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on brainrot for a certain couple, so inspired by them, hereās how gojo satoru would be when heās jealous
aka : male! reader being in a private somethingship with co-celebrity (idol/actor) gojo satoru
you werenāt official.
not publicly. not even privately, if you were to be honest.
what you were, was complicated. charged. tense.
late-night rehearsals bleeding into early-morning car rides back to your apartments. shared hotel rooms and beds for āconvenience.ā
the occasional excuse to sit too close because there āisnāt enough space.ā the half-held glances that you both pretended not to notice. the discreet skinship that you insisted was accidental.
it was backstage at a music show when it happened.
you were dressed in this flawless, pressed, immaculate stage persona. eyes lined, jaws sharp, and the deep navy silk of your shirt tucked in just right. gojo had barely looked at you all evening, except for a few long, hungry glances.
you were used to his teasingā had been exposed to the flirty flurry of his words moving about like sunlight. you were used to gojo satoruā cocky, charming, obnoxious.
but that night?
something was different.
the both of you just finished an on-stage bit for the show. youād exchange a playful hug with geto suguru, a well-known actor and host. youāve known him ways back, so it was nothing unusualā a friendly arm over his shoulder, a lean-in joke to his mic, some laughter from the crowd.
but when you stepped backstage and got back to the comfort of your dressing room, gojo didnāt say a word. no teasing remark, no obnoxious joke, not even a playful banter.
gojo walks up behind you. just close enough that the heat of him pressed through the fabric, through your breath.
the room was quiet, save for the beat of your heart that you swore could be heard by the people outside.
you turned slowly to look up at gojo and simply uttered, āwhat?ā
he doesnāt smile.
gojo leans in, caging you with his arms; one hand to the mirror behind your head. the other rested on your hipā not tight, but firm.
a beat passes by before he says anything.
ādidnāt like that,ā gojo muttered.
you blink as you feel your heartbeat skip, ādidnāt like what?ā
āthe way he touched you.ā his voice was low. not angry, but dangerous. jealous in a way you had never seen before on a man like gojo satoru. āput his arm around you like he could.ā
you breathe, suddenly feeling warm.
āhe couldnāt,ā you said, although unsure why you even needed to explain. why you had the urge to placate the man before you.
gojoās fingers curled slightly, āi know. but still.ā
still.
that word echoed.
your breath gets stuck in your throat as his hand moves, slowly sliding from your waist to the small of your back as he turns you toward him. it anchors you in a way thatās possessive. not aggressive. just⦠there.
āyou like that?ā gojo asks, head tilting as his mouth achingly stays a few inches away from yours. āwhen i get like this?ā
something in you wanted to say no.
you wanted to say that it was ridiculous. that he was overreacting. that all of this was unnecessary. that it was all for show.
but insteadā
you feel your eyes flutter shut and you clench your hands in his shirt and you whisper a weak āā¦yeah.ā
gojo exhales like a man relieved. as if heād been holding back and just got permission to stop.
he kissed you then. deep. slow.
with claiming in it.
and that was the moment you realized that you loved it.
you loved being gojo satoruās.
not just in the playful ways, the teasing bits on camera, or the flirty exchanges in interviews.
no. you loved this. the rawness of it all. the way gojoās need slipped beneath his skin like heat. the way it melted all that ingrained stage-polish and control off him in seconds.
the way it said: you donāt belong to anyone else. youāre mine. iām yours.
you didnāt need the words.
you just needed the look. and the hands. and the way gojo kissed you like you were his biggest secret heās struggling to keep in.
you get into a fight with suna and you're just so unbelievably pissed off in the wake of it that you can't even stand to be in the same room as him, so you cloister yourself in your bedroom to sulk. you see his cellphone resting on the edge of the table on his side of the bed, and are equal parts smug and irritated all at onceābecause you know he's usually so glued to that thing that he's practically lost without it, but that means he's probably already noticed it's missing and is bound to come looking for it soon.
you pick up the phone with half a mind to hurl it out the window in retaliation for your current annoyance, butāmore out of concern for passing birds or pedestrians in the street below than anything elseāyou ultimately decide better of it. instead, you flop down into your bed and unlock the device with the passcode rintarou had given you a suspiciously short time into your relationship.
once unlocked, you start scrolling through the phone aimlessly.
part of you distantly wonders what exactly you're hoping to accomplish with this. you're not snooping per se. there's nothing you're looking for, in particular. you don't even suspect that there's anything your long-term, live-in boyfriend is hiding on there. but you keep digging anyway, as though looking for fuel to keep that kindling anger burning in the bit of your stomach. you keep seeking out something that the muffled voice of reason in the back of your mind insists would only end up hurting you.
you smother that nagging feeling and keep going, opening up the camera roll and swiping through to the gallery.
you scroll up once, then twice, then a third time. you pause, taking in what you see on the screen. you scroll again. then again. each swipe a little faster than the last.
the first tear hits the back of your hand, and the phone slips from your fingersāit barely has time to settle on the mattress, abandoned with the screen still lit and open to the camera roll, before you've already made it out the door.
rintarou is still in the living room where you left him after your argument, only now he's face down on the sofa with his left arm and leg dangling pitifully off the edge.
"rintarou," your voice is shaking when you call to him, weak and watery and strained.
he's upright in an instant, his eyesāa little red at the corners but wide with concernāon you.
you don't say anything. you just... look at him for a moment.
the tears that you've been only half-successfully fighting against swell unexpectedly, and a little sob rips through your chest. you cover your face in embarrassment, but there's no concealing your tears now.
"hey," rintarou is in front of you quicker than you can follow, prying the hands you've hidden your face under away so that he can see you. "what's wrong, baby?"
"i'm sorry," you croak out, your voice breaking halfway through the apologyālike an audible testament of the moment your pride finally gives away. "i'm really sorry."
"oh," rintarou's tone is gentle as he tugs you against his chest, a hand cradling the back of your head. "it's okay. it's okay. it was just a little argument. it was my fault, too."
you lean into him as he runs his hand down your back, comforting you.
"it was so stupid," you say.
"yeah," rintarou agrees in a way without any condescension or condemnation. he just holds you a little tighter.
"i was mean," you whisper, your tears still falling and soaking into the front of your boyfriend's hoodie.
"well, i was being an idiot. and you know i kinda like it when you're mean," rintarou offers in a misplaced but completely well-intentioned effort to console you.
you snort, a sort of gross, wet sound. when you finally peel yourself away from him to look up at his face, that same expression is still there. the one you've seen so many times. the one that made you feel so guilty. the one so full of love it eats away at youāthat softens you like a tide erodes a shore.
"how can you still be a pervert when i'm getting snot all over you?" you ask him with a weak laugh, scrubbing at your face to wipe away the mess of tears and god only knows what else you've got all over you. rintarou stops you, nudging your hands away and using the cuff of his hoodie's sleeve to take up the taskāin a much gentler way than you had been.
"because i love you," he says softly, wiping a tear off your cheek. it's so earnest. so honest. it's his own apology, in a way, even without saying the words.
and you know he means it.
because he doesn't care about getting your snot all over his favourite hoodie. because all those years ago he gave you his passcode without a second thought, and he hasn't changed it since. because no matter how far back you scrolled, his camera roll is full of photos of you.
every once in a while you get an ao3 comment that totally floors you and goes "holy shit my writing maybe DOES matter to someone" and you just. stare at the wall for a little while with happy tears in your eyes
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synopsis: Youāre a thief. He's a legend.
All you wanted was the artifact ā not a partner, not a bounty, and definitely not feelings. But thereās only one bed, one bullet, and maybe one shot at making it out alive. (And gods help you, youāre starting to like him.)
content warnings: 18+, outlaw/thief dynamic, bottom male reader, heavily inspired by puss in boots, Gojo is feral in a silk shirt, slow burn with explosive payoff, community bathhouse smut (fingering, p in a, reader receiving), one bed trope, fake marriage but the feelings are real, suggestive swordplay, magical artifact slowly corrupting the reader (heās fine. probably), minor blood and injury, mutual possessiveness disguised as banter, major character death, emotional vulnerability in stolen clothes, they save the day but lose some of themselves, Gojo probably steals your boots.
word count: 10.5k šŖš¼
You were two clicks away from glory.
The last mechanism in the vault lock was nearly purring under your tools, an intricate thing of gears and whispers that had taken you three nights to decode. The room was dim, lit only by the warm flicker of a stolen lantern and the soft red glow of rune-etched stone along the floor. Whoever built this place wanted the treasure buried and forgotten, but they hadnāt counted on you.
You adjusted your gloves, fingers nimble as the final latch gave the faintest click. Satisfaction hummed through you, the kind that only came from outsmarting kings and walking away richer.
And then you heard it.
A crunch.
You froze.
Not the stone-shifting crack of an ancient trap. Not the telltale grind of armoured boots. Noāthis was sharper. Wetter. Smugger.
You turned your head, slowly, already dreading what youād find.
And there he was.
Satoru Gojo. Leaning casually against the far column, biting into a red apple like heād strolled into a marketplace instead of a cursed nobleās vault. White hair gleaming. Mask angled just enough to be obnoxious. His boots were dusty, his grin shit-eating, and his eyesāfuck. Of course, he didnāt bother hiding them.
"Donāt stop on my account," he said, juice running down his wrist. "You looked so focused. It was adorable."
You stared.
Then blinked.
Then said, flatly, āWhat the fuck.ā
He gestured with the apple. āHi.ā
āDid you follow me?ā
āTechnically, I was here first. I just took a more dramatic entrance route.ā Another bite. āRooftops. Rope. Possible broken window.ā
You looked past him, and sure enough, one of the stained glass panels high above was cracked open, edges glittering with fresh damage.
āYouāre a fucking legend,ā you muttered, turning back to the vault.
"Aww, you do know me."
āI also think you're a fucking nuisance.ā
Gojo laughed, low and pleased. "You say that like itās mutually exclusive."
You exhaled slowly, jaw tightening. āYou planning on standing there eating fruit while I do all the work?ā
āActually,ā he said, and there was the sound of something metal shifting behind you, āI was thinking Iād help.ā
You spun, knives drawn in a blur.
But Gojo wasnāt threatening youāhe was kneeling beside the pedestal now, peering at the exposed vault like it was a puzzle box.
He whistled. āDamn. You already disarmed the pressure plates?ā
āYouāre loud,ā you said, circling him warily. āAnd messy.ā
He looked up at you, bright-eyed. āBut cute, right?ā
Your blade hovered an inch from his throat.
āYouāve got five seconds to leave.ā
āOh?ā His smile widened, infuriating. āOr what? Youāll stab the most charming outlaw in the land?ā
āIf it shuts you up, absolutely.ā
āHarsh.ā He leaned in, voice lower now. āYou always this violent on first meetings, or am I special?ā
You narrowed your eyes. āYouāre impossible.ā
"And you're hot when you're mad."
The moment stretched between you like a tripwire. His smile didnāt falter, but his fingers twitched near the hilt of the blade at his hip. Not drawn, not threatening. Just⦠prepared.
So he wasnāt an idiot. That was disappointing. You liked idiots. They bled easier.
āI know who you are,ā you said finally.
āEveryone does.ā
āI donāt mean your wanted posters. I mean your real reputation. You get people killed.ā
His expression didnāt change, but something cold flickered behind his smirk. āPeople get themselves killed. I just make it interesting.ā
You hated how good that line was. Hated more that it made you want to smirk back.
Instead, you sheathed your knives and moved past him to the artifact.
Small. Black. Humming with a pulse you felt in your ribs. The voidseed, they called it. One wish. One curse. Same odds, depending on how desperate you were.
Gojo stood too, closer now. You felt him behind you, tall and warm and irritating.
āAny chance youāll split it?ā he asked.
āNot even if you begged.ā
āMmm. I am good at begging, though.ā
You straightened, turned, and faced him properly for the first time.
Sharp white hair. Lashes too long. Lips still stained from that damn apple. He was every kind of trouble, wrapped in silk and arrogance, and now he was standing between you and the exit.
You sighed. āIām not fighting you in here. Too cramped.ā
āShame. I like it cramped.ā
You stepped around him, slow, purposeful. āTouch me again and Iāll bury a dagger in your throat.ā
He chuckled, following. āThatās not a no.ā
You reached the exit passage, then paused. Looked back at him.
āYou planning to follow me out?ā
Gojo shrugged. āIām not leaving empty-handed.ā
āSo rob someone else.ā
āBut youāre so much more fun.ā
You stared. He smiled.
Then you threw a smoke vial to the ground and vanished into the haze, vaulting up the hidden escape shaft youād scouted days ago. You didnāt bother looking back.
Let him chase you if he wanted.
Youād cut him off at the knees later.
---
The city was quieter at nightāif you could call this a city. It was more like a stitched-together sprawl of forgotten temples, crumbling stonework, and wealthy cowards playing noble. Beyond the roofs stretched the distant outline of forest, where the real dangers lived. Where you were planning to disappear.
If not for the man currently chasing you.
You moved fast, vaulting from rooftop to rooftop, leather boots gripping slick clay tiles. The wind tugged at your coat and hissed in your ears. You landed, rolled, and sprang again without pauseāmuscle memory and adrenaline making you feel half-feral, half-myth.
Gojo was still behind you.
Gods, how was he still behind you?
You glanced back just as he landed a story down, arms outstretched like a damn acrobat, long coat flaring, silver hair glowing in the moonlight. He looked delighted. Delighted.
āThis is the most cardio Iāve done all year!ā he called, grinning. āIs this foreplay? Feels like foreplay.ā
āTry dying!ā you shouted back, and dropped smoke behind you again.
But he didnāt slow. Didnāt stumble. If anything, he laughed harderālike this wasnāt a chase at all but a fucking game, and you were the only one pretending to play it seriously.
You hated how good he was at this.
You hated that it was kind of fun.
You pivoted hard, ducked under a broken arch, and slid down the angled side of an old cathedral roof, boots skimming the rain-slick edge. You landed in the alley with a sharp grunt, breath visible in the cold.
Then silence.
No footsteps. No Gojo.
You waited five, ten secondsāears strainingāthen exhaled slowly and melted into the shadows, slipping through the gap between buildings youād marked earlier. It led into the narrow passage behind the bell tower, where the stone was warped from age and easy to scale.
You climbed three stories before you heard it again.
Crunch.
You looked up.
There he was.
Leaning against the spire like a gargoyle, eating another fucking apple.
You stared. āHowāā
āIām very light on my feet,ā he said cheerfully, tossing the core into the dark. āAlso, you take the exact same route every time. Predictable, but sexy.ā
Your hand twitched near your knife. āIf I kill you, does the bounty double?ā
He cocked his head. āAre you flirting?ā
You didnāt answer. Instead, you reached the top of the roof and sat, boots swinging over the edge, chest rising and falling from the sprint. Gojo watched you, then flopped down beside you like this was all part of the plan.
Below, the city was a patchwork of flickering lamps and watchfires. The guards hadnāt spotted either of you yet. You could still vanish. You could still shake him. But for some reason, you didnāt move.
āI should stab you,ā you muttered.
āYou keep saying that,ā Gojo replied, voice lighter now. āBut here we are.ā
Silence stretched between you. Not tense, exactly. Just fullāwith things you werenāt going to say and things he probably already knew.
Gojo broke it first. āThat vault was yours?ā
āObviously.ā
āYou cracked it clean.ā
āObviously.ā
He grinned. āIām impressed.ā
You glanced at him. āThat doesnāt mean anything coming from you.ā
āIt does to me.ā
And there it was againāthat thing he did, that flicker behind the jokes and showmanship. Like he saw something in you that he wasnāt supposed to. Like he was trying to get under your skin on purpose.
āWhy do you keep chasing me?ā you asked, finally. āYou could be halfway to the next kingdom by now.ā
Gojo stretched his legs out, boots scuffed and dusted with rooftop grit. āMaybe I like shiny things.ā
You rolled your eyes. āYou didnāt even want the artifact.ā
āNope.ā
āThen whyāā
āI wanted to see who got there first.ā He looked at you. Really looked. āAnd what theyād do with it.ā
You met his gaze and felt something tighten in your chest.
āYou think Iāll use it?ā
He shrugged. āI think youāre not as heartless as people say.ā
You laughed once, short and bitter. āAnd what gave you that idea? The knives or the running?ā
āThe way you looked at it. Like it scared you a little.ā
You didnāt answer.
He leaned back on his elbows, tilting his head toward the stars. āIāve seen men go mad for things like that. Or worseāget hopeful. Thatās always when it breaks them.ā
āHope?ā
Gojo nodded. āItās a fragile thing. Makes people desperate.ā
You turned away. Looked down at the artifact in your coat pocket. Still warm. Still humming. Like it was alive. Like it knew it had just become yours.
āIām not desperate,ā you said quietly.
āNo,ā Gojo agreed. āYouāre angry.ā
You didnāt ask how he knew that. Maybe he didnāt. Maybe he was guessing. Or maybe he really did see straight through people the way they said he could. Whatever it was, it made your skin itch.
āYou gonna tail me all night?ā you asked, voice back to flat.
āDepends,ā he said, stretching. āAre you gonna make it worth my while?ā
You stood abruptly. āDonāt follow me, Gojo.ā
He didnāt rise. Just watched you from where he lay, too relaxed for someone who could be skewered in two seconds.
āYouāre not the only outlaw after that thing, you know,ā he said casually. āYou might want backup. Or a partner.ā
You looked over your shoulder. āI donāt do partners.ā
āYou might change your mind.ā
āI wonāt.ā
Gojo smiled, softly this time. āIāll see you again anyway.ā
You disappeared into the shadows before you could give him the satisfaction of a reply.
And still, somewhere behind you, you heard him laughing.
---
You smelled blood before you stepped inside.
The tavern was quieter than you remembered, and that was saying somethingāit was already a shithole on a good day. Youād holed up here before: halfway between two borders, just obscure enough to be ignored by local law. Perfect for laying low after a heist. Perfect for disappearing.
But tonight, something was⦠off.
You kept your back to the wall and your hood up, fingers tracing the hilt under your coat as you passed between half-empty tables. A few men looked upāone blinked too slow, anotherās hand twitched toward his belt. You kept walking.
The barkeep didnāt speak. Just jerked his chin toward the back room.
You slipped through the curtain.
Kaito was waiting. Ex-fence, part-time drunk, full-time coward. But usefulāif you were willing to stomach the smell.
You didnāt answer. You pulled the object from inside your coat, still warm and faintly pulsing. The voidseed sat between you like a heart torn from a god. Kaito leaned forward, reverent.
āShit,ā he whispered. āYou really pulled it off.ā
āI need papers,ā you said. āNew name. New country. And I need it fast.ā
Kaito nodded too quickly. āYeah, yeah, I got a guyāwait, noāhad a guy, he moved east, but I can getāā
The door behind you slammed open.
You turned just as the first knife whistled through the air. You ducked. It hit the wall behind you with a dull thud.
Four bounty hunters. Maybe five. All armed. All grinning.
You moved before they could surround you, flipping the table and vaulting over it. The room exploded into motionāKaito shrieked and disappeared under a bench, typicalāand you drew both knives in one smooth motion, spinning as the first man lunged.
You slashed his thigh, ducked a club, kicked the third in the stomach hard enough to hear ribs crack. It was fast. It was brutal. But they kept coming.
They werenāt just here for blood.
They were here for the artifact.
Shit.
You were outnumbered, boxed in, andā
The window shattered.
Something slammed into the room in a blur of white and blue. The air twisted, and suddenly three men were on the floor, groaning or unconscious. One tried to crawl away. A boot stepped on his hand.
Gojo.
āMiss me?ā he said, smile sharp and stupid and radiant.
You didnāt answer. You threw a bottle at the last standing hunter and watched it explode against his face.
āCharming,ā Gojo said. āDidnāt know you could throw like that.ā
āIāll throw you if you donāt explain how they found me.ā
Gojo crouched, yanked a bounty poster from one of their belts, and tossed it to you.
You caught it.
And froze.
Your name.
Your faceāsketched, but unmistakable.
And scrawled beneath it in fat, blood-red ink:
WANTED ā DEAD OR ALIVE ā POSSESSION OF AN ANCIENT CURSE REWARD: 5,000 GOLD COINS
You stared. āFive thousand?ā
Gojo whistled low. āEven Iām not worth that much.ā
āThis wasnāt here yesterday.ā
āWhich means someone talked.ā
You turned to Kaito. He held up his hands. āI didnāt say anything, I swearā!ā
You kicked over his table. He screamed and ducked.
Gojo chuckled. āSo. Whatās your plan now?ā
āRun,ā you snapped. āFast and far.ā
āYou wonāt make it through the border checkpoints with that poster circulating. Every pair of eyes from here to the capitalās gonna be looking for you.ā
āNot if I move fast.ā
āNot if you move alone.ā
You stopped.
Gojo smiled, all lazy amusement. āTravel with me. Weāll cut through the cliffs and loop around the marshlands. No patrols, no checkpoints. Iāve got people there. Weāll be ghosts.ā
āI donāt trust you.ā
āThatās mutual.ā
You glared. āThen why help me?ā
He looked down at the voidseed, then back up at you.
āBecause,ā he said, voice lower now, āyouāre not the only one who wants to know what that thing does. And Iāve got a map.ā
You paused.
He added, āTo the place it came from. The one no one dares go near. Not unless they want answers. Or power.ā
You didnāt move.
Didnāt speak.
You could stab him. You could go alone. You could disappear into the woods and take your chances with the bounty on your back and the hunters at your heels.
Or you could take the risk.
You sheathed your knives. āFine. One week. Then weāre done.ā
Gojo grinned. āWhatever you say, partner.ā
āIām not your partner.ā
āWeāre travelling together. Youāre not not my partner.ā
You shoved past him. āIf you talk this much while weāre walking, I will kill you.ā
āThatās fine. Youāll miss me.ā
You didnāt answer.
But you didnāt look back, either.
Because for the first time since stealing the voidseed, you werenāt running alone.
And you hated that it made you feel a little less doomed.
---
You hated traveling with other people.
They slowed you down. They made noise. They had opinions about things like ābreaksā and āwhich direction the cliffs areā and ānot threatening every barkeep you meet.ā And yet, here you were.
With him.
Gojo Satoru walked like a man whoād never feared a fall. Long strides, loose limbs, like the world was his to trip through. He hadnāt shut up for hoursāabout the voidseed, about local legends, about a mythical hot spring he swore was nearby and probably full of naked people.
You barely grunted in response.
Mostly to stop yourself from saying something youād regret.
He didnāt seem to mind.
āSo,ā Gojo drawled as you both passed through the last arch of the ruined bridge, the cliffs yawning on either side like jagged teeth, āare you always this fun, or am I just special?ā
āYou talk too much.ā
āAnd you glare like itās a love language.ā
āIām thinking.ā
āAbout killing me? Or kissing me?ā
You didnāt answer.
Gojo laughed. āAh, so both.ā
The path ahead narrowedājust a crooked trail winding down into the ravine. No signs, no markers. You knew this route, barely. Smugglers used it sometimes, but it wasnāt exactly a highway. The wind picked up as you descended, sharp and biting, tugging at your coat and snapping branches overhead.
Behind you, Gojo sighed dramatically. āSo⦠whatās your plan once we get across? Sell the voidseed? Hide it? Build a shrine and worship it?ā
You glanced over your shoulder. āYou really think Iād tell you that?ā
āNo,ā he said. āBut I like your voice. Could listen to it for hours.ā
āYouāre lucky I donāt slit your throat in your sleep.ā
āI am lucky,ā Gojo agreed. āEvery day.ā
You rolled your eyes. And stillāsomehowādidnāt stop walking next to him.
You camped that night in a hollowed-out cave, tucked into the cliffside like a secret. Youād found it years ago, when you were still running jobs with people who were now either dead or very, very far away. It was dry. Sheltered. Just big enough for two.
Which was annoying.
Gojo flopped down beside the fire you built, unbothered as always. He peeled off his coat, set down his sword with something resembling care, and stretched like a damn cat.
āYou know,ā he said, watching the flames dance, āyou snore.ā
āNo, I donāt.ā
āYou do. Itās kind of endearing. Like a very angry bear.ā
You threw a twig at his face. He caught it, grinning.
āYou know youāre insane, right?ā you said.
Gojo shrugged. āTakes one to know one.ā
You didnāt reply.
The fire popped softly. Outside, the wind howled through the canyons like a warning. But in here, it was warm. Almost⦠peaceful.
You hated it.
āYouāve done this before,ā Gojo said, after a beat. āStolen something dangerous. Run from a bounty. Lived with a target on your back.ā
Your jaw tensed. āYou havenāt?ā
āOh, I have,ā he said lightly. āBut I tend to leave a trail of ash and broken hearts. Youāre more subtle.ā
āYou say that like itās an insult.ā
Gojo turned his head, looking at you through the flickering light.
āNo,ā he said. āItās impressive.ā
You stared at the flames. Let the silence grow teeth again.
āIām not interested in your compliments,ā you muttered.
āAnd yet, here we are,ā he murmured. āSharing fire. Sharing risk.ā
āNot a team.ā
He didnāt argue.
Didnāt need to.
The next day, you crossed the ravine and headed toward the outer reaches of the valleyācloser to the forgotten routes that led to the Wastes. Thatās where Gojo said the answers were. Where the voidseed had been found once before.
But first, you needed supplies.
And supplies meant towns.
You picked a smaller one. Backwater. No central guard. Fewer chances to be recognized.
Or so you thought.
The minute you stepped into the town square, Gojo nudged your side. āDonāt react.ā
You didnāt move.
But you saw it.
A new bounty poster.
Your face, again.
And Gojoās. Right beside it.
Same scrawled headline:
WANTED FOR THEFT OF AN ANCIENT RELIC ā EXTREMELY DANGEROUS REWARD: 7,000 GOLD ā DEAD OR ALIVE
āDidnāt know you were that popular,ā Gojo muttered.
āI thought you said your contacts were clean.ā
āThey were. Someoneās really invested in finding us.ā
You ducked into a side alley, heart thudding. Gojo followed.
āWhat now?ā he asked.
You were already scanning. Thinking. Calculating.
āTheyāve got spotters,ā you said. āWe canāt stay long. We grab supplies and get out.ā
āTheyāll flag the wanted faces the second we walk into the market.ā
āThen we wonāt walk in as us.ā
He blinked. āYouāve got disguises?ā
āBetter,ā you said grimly. āA local custom.ā
Gojo raised a brow. āOh no.ā
āOh yes.ā
Two hours later, Gojo stood beside you in front of the town registrar, wearing ceremonial robes that didnāt fit and smiling like he was having the time of his life.
You, on the other hand, were trying not to punch someone.
The registrar blinked down at the paperwork. āSo⦠youāre here to register a bond?ā
āJust passing through,ā Gojo said brightly, sliding his arm around your waist. āBut my beloved and I are finally tying the knot. Isnāt that right, sweetheart?ā
You gritted your teeth. āEcstatic.ā
The woman beamed. āWell, congratulations! Iāll just need you both to sign hereāā
You grabbed the pen before Gojo could write something stupid.
You didnāt look at him when you scribbled your nameāfake, of courseābut you could feel his eyes on you. Amused. Curious. Warm in a way you didnāt want to think about.
āDone,ā you said. āCan we go now?ā
The registrar handed you a scroll. āWelcome to marital bliss!ā
Gojo winked. āWeāll try not to kill each other.ā
āPlease donāt!ā she called cheerfully as you walked away.
Later, back in the woods with the supplies stashed and your cover intact, Gojo laughed until he almost fell over.
āOh my god,ā he wheezed. āWe just got fake married.ā
You didnāt respond.
āDo I get a honeymoon? What about a kiss? Should we consummate the union?ā
āShut up.ā
Gojo slung an arm around your shoulders. āCāmon, hubby. Admit it. You liked holding my hand.ā
āI was restraining you.ā
āSemantics.ā
You elbowed him in the ribs. He laughed harder.
And somehow, you werenāt annoyed.
Not really.
Because for the first time since this whole cursed job startedāyou didnāt feel like you were running. You felt like you were walking beside someone who might actually survive the ending with you.
Maybe.
If he didnāt die first.
---
You knew something was off the moment the birds stopped singing.
It was dusk. The sky had softened into gold, trees slicing the light into ribbons as you and Gojo crept along the overgrown trail just past the ridge. You were supposed to be half a day ahead of any bounty trackers. Supposed to be deep enough in the forgotten woods that no one would dare follow.
But the silence gave it away.
Not natural. Not safe.
You stopped moving.
Gojo stopped too. āWhat is it?ā
You didnāt answer. Just drew one of your knives and slipped into the trees.
Behind you, Gojo made a low soundāapproval, maybe. He followed without complaint. Quiet. Efficient. Annoyingly graceful.
Then the first arrow struck the dirt near your boot.
You reacted instantly, diving behind a fallen log as the air exploded with motion. Figures burst from the brushāfive, six, maybe more. Faces masked, blades out, a full ambush party and not the amateur kind. These werenāt bounty hunters.
These were bounty killers.
Gojo cursed behind you. āFriendly crowd.ā
You gritted your teeth. āThey were waiting.ā
āFor us?ā
āFor me.ā
āGod, youāre popular.ā
You didnāt dignify that with a reply.
Instead, you moved.
Two in front. One on the ridge. Another circling left. You lunged for the closest figure, catching them by surprise, your blade slicing across their thigh as you twisted to avoid a second strike. Blood splattered the leaves. They went down with a grunt.
Gojo was beside you in a blink, staff spinning, cracking skulls with that infuriating ease of his. But you could tell he was holding back. Always did. Like he was dancing, not fighting. Like none of it really mattered.
Until it did.
Because one of them got closeācloser than you expected. A blade slashed across your arm. Hot pain bloomed. You staggered, just a second too slow.
Gojo turned, face shifting from amused to lethal.
The man didnāt even get to scream before Gojo drove his palm into his chest with a sickening crack.
Then silence.
Not quiet like before. Not suspicious.
Just stillness.
Bodies on the ground. Blood steaming in the cool night air.
You hissed, clutching your arm. āFuck.ā
āLet me see.ā Gojo stepped closer.
āIām fine.ā
āYouāre bleeding.ā
āNo shit.ā
āStop being difficult,ā he muttered. āYouāre not impressing me.ā
You glared at him but let him push your coat off your shoulder. He knelt beside you, fingers brushing the torn fabric gentlyāalmost too gently. His hands were warm. Steady.
āNot too deep,ā he said. āBut itāll scar.ā
āI donāt care.ā
āI do.ā
You froze.
Just for a second.
Then you scoffed. āYou care about a lot of things that donāt concern you.ā
Gojo didnāt answer.
Just tied the bandage tight and stood.
You stood too, slower this time. Wincing. You wiped the blood off your blade and sheathed it again, staring down at the bodies.
āThey knew we were coming,ā you said.
āLooks like it.ā
āWhich means someoneās tracking us. Close.ā
Gojo was quiet.
Then: āGeto.ā
You looked up.
He wasnāt joking. Wasnāt teasing. That brightness he usually wore like armor had dimmed, pulled back like a tide.
You swallowed.
āYou think he sent them?ā
Gojo nodded once. āYeah.ā
You didnāt ask how he knew.
Not yet.
But something in your chest twisted.
You made camp deeper in the woods, away from the blood. The night was colder now, as if it knew something had changed.
Gojo didnāt joke. Didnāt chatter.
You didnāt push.
Instead, you sat with your back to the fire, knife in your hand, watching shadows flicker against the trees. You could still hear the sound of that last manās chest caving in. Still feel Gojoās hands on your arm. Stillā
āYou were good today,ā Gojo said softly behind you.
You didnāt turn. āIām always good.ā
He huffed a laugh. āYeah. You are.ā
Another pause.
Then:
āThanks for not dying.ā
You looked at him then. Really looked.
He was leaning back, arms behind his head, hair messy, eyes soft and unreadable in the firelight.
And for once, he wasnāt smiling.
You didnāt know what that meant.
So you said, āDonāt thank me yet. Weāve still got a long way to go.ā
He met your gaze.
And this time, he didnāt look away.
---
The village wasnāt on any map. It didnāt even have a name, just a rusted sign by the gate that read STAY OUT in faded red paint. That didnāt stop Gojo from walking right in, of courseāwhistling like he owned the place.
You followed him reluctantly, steps slower, warier. Something about the place made your skin itch. The houses were squat, sagging under their own weight, and the streets were too quiet. Not the kind of quiet that comes with sleep or peaceābut the kind that settles when something is wrong.
You passed a farmer hammering wooden planks across his windows. He didnāt look up.
You didnāt smile. āLetās find a place to rest. In and out. No distractions.ā
Gojo just nodded, but you knew better. The man couldnāt resist poking the bearāespecially if the bear was cursed, dangerous, or full of secrets.
It wasnāt hard to find the inn. It was the only building still standing straight. The sign above the door read The Hollow Lantern in cracked gold paint. You pushed the door open, and the air inside smelled like dust and oil and something faintly metallic.
A woman sat at the counter. Her eyes flicked to you, then to Gojo. āRooms?ā
āTwo,ā you said quickly.
She shook her head. āOnly one left.ā
Of course.
Gojo didnāt miss a beat. āWeāll take it.ā
You didnāt protest. Not out loud. But the look you shot him couldāve burned a hole through stone.
He just grinned.
The room was smallābarely enough space for your bags, your weapons, and the one creaky-looking bed shoved up against the far wall.
The silence stretched.
Gojo flopped onto the mattress like it was a kingās feast. āNot bad! Sheets even smell clean.ā He rolled onto his back, arms behind his head. āYou want left or right side?ā
You stared at him. āIāll take the floor.ā
āNo you wonāt. Youāre still injured.ā
āIāve had worse.ā
āDoesnāt mean you have to suffer through worse now.ā He patted the space beside him. āCome on. I promise I wonāt biteāunless you ask nicely.ā
You flipped your knife once between your fingers before sliding it back into your boot. āKeep your hands to yourself.ā
Gojo smiled, but didnāt answer. For once, he let it be.
You didnāt lie down. Not yet. Instead, you stood by the window, eyes scanning the dark street below. Somewhere out there, the forest still whispered. The same forest that had nearly buried you both in bodies just hours earlier.
Something wasnāt right.
You turned to Gojo. āWhy this village?ā
He blinked at you, sitting up. āWhat do you mean?ā
āYou didnāt ask. You didnāt hesitate. You just⦠walked in. Like you were looking for it.ā
Gojo looked away then, expression shuttering. His smile fadedājust for a moment, but enough to catch.
āThereās a rumor,ā he said finally. āOld one. Says this place was cursed after a voidseed burst under the mountain. Says anyone who stays too long starts hearing voices in their sleep. Seeing things that arenāt there.ā
You raised an eyebrow. āAnd you thought we should spend the night here?ā
He shrugged. āIf itās cursed, it means no one will look for us here.ā
You didnāt have a counter to that.
But you still didnāt like it.
You lay down reluctantly that night, fully dressed, your back to Gojo, your hand never straying far from the hilt at your hip. The bed was warmer than expected. You hated that. Hated the way your muscles loosened despite yourself. Hated the way Gojoās breathing, soft and even beside you, almost calmed you.
Almost.
āYou awake?ā he asked.
You didnāt answer.
He continued anyway. āI get why you donāt trust me.ā
Your jaw tightened.
āBut Iām not your enemy.ā
You turned your head slightly, just enough to see his profile in the moonlight leaking through the cracked shutters. His eyes were open. Bright. Watching the ceiling like it held the answers.
āIām not anyoneās ally either,ā you said. āI work alone.ā
āI know.ā
Another pause.
Then softer: āYou donāt have to, though.ā
You closed your eyes. Tried to pretend it didnāt make something sharp twist under your ribs.
You dreamed that night.
Of fire. Of eyes in the trees. Of a voice calling your name in someone elseās tone. You woke up in a cold sweat, heart poundingāand Gojo was already sitting up beside you, alert. Barefoot. Shirt rumpled.
He looked at you like heād seen something too.
āYou felt it too?ā he asked.
You nodded slowly. āSomethingās here.ā
Gojoās voice dropped. āVoidseed.ā
You stared at him. āHow do you know?ā
āIāve felt it before.ā
There it was again. That crack. That space where the mask slipped.
You sat up. āHow many times?ā
Gojo didnāt answer. Instead, he stood, crossing to the window.
āGeto used to track them,ā he said finally. āYears ago. Said they were pieces of a bigger magicāolder than anything in this world. Said if you collected enough of them, you could change fate.ā
āAnd you believed him?ā
Gojo gave you a sad smile. āI believed in him.ā
You stood too.
And the floor creaked between you, quiet and heavy, like it was holding its breath.
Morning came gray and slow. You packed in silence. Gojo didnāt press you again. But something had shifted between you. Not quite trust. Not quite warmth.
But something.
You left the village by noon. The innkeeper watched you both with tired eyes. And just as you passed the edge of the woods again, Gojo looked at you sideways.
āOne bed,ā he said casually.
You grunted. āWhat about it?ā
He smirked. āYou didnāt stab me.ā
You didnāt smile.
But you didnāt deny it either.
---
Youād barely made it past the village border when Gojo started whistling again. Same tune, same arrogance, like the ambush, the cursed bed-sharing, and the voidseed whispers hadnāt left even a scratch on his soul. You, on the other hand, were nursing a splitting headache and a very real ache in your side that you absolutely were not going to let him notice.
āStop that,ā you muttered.
āStop what?ā he said, cocking his head with a mock innocence that didnāt fool you for a second.
āThat noise.ā
āIām creating ambiance. Mood. Vibes.ā
āYour vibes are making me homicidal.ā
Gojo grinned, āWell, at least theyāre working.ā
You didnāt dignify that with an answer. Just adjusted your coat, made sure your dagger was still where it belonged, and scanned the horizon ahead.
A town lay a few miles outāmarked on Gojoās stolen, half-burned map as āRookridge.ā Heād claimed there was a shortcut through its back alleys that would take you both to the pass ahead. You didnāt trust him, or the map, or frankly even the ground beneath your boots right now. But it was the only real lead you had. That, and the faint whisper of voidseed still lingering like smoke on the wind.
The town looked normal at first glance. Dusty. Quiet. The kind of place where people didnāt make eye contact unless you paid them for it. But Gojo slowed slightly as you entered the main square, steps lighter than usual. His hand brushed yoursābarely.
āCareful,ā he murmured, just for you. āWeāre not alone.ā
You didnāt ask how he knew. You felt it too. That ripple in the air. That hunterās tension curling along the back of your spine.
And then they stepped into the street.
Two of them. Dressed like theatre villains, all leather and buckles and unnecessary capes. One was tall and lean, with a blade so polished it shone like a mirror. The other was shorter, broader, and carried a spiked flail that looked like it belonged in a torture museum.
But it was their faces that made your stomach sink.
They were smiling. Like theyād been expecting you.
āWell, well,ā the tall one purred, pointing his sword lazily between you and Gojo. āIf it isnāt the infamous sorcerer and his grumpy little bodyguard.ā
āI wonāt,ā the shorter one said, cracking his knuckles. āThe price on your head is enough to buy a kingdom.ā
You tilted your head. āWhose head?ā
Both bounty hunters blinked.
Gojo elbowed you lightly. āAw, donāt be shy. Theyāre clearly here for me.ā
āYou wish.ā You rolled your eyes, but your hand was already on your dagger.
āDonāt fight over me,ā Gojo sighed. āThereās enough bounty to go around.ā
The tall one moved firstāfast, practiced, but not fast enough. Your blade met his mid-air with a clash of steel and a flick of your wrist that sent him staggering back.
āWhoa!ā Gojo laughed. āLook at you go, sweetheart!ā
You didnāt answer. You were already movingāducking a strike, spinning, slashing low. The flail swung behind you, a whistle of iron in the air, and Gojo intercepted it with a wall of crystal-clear magic that cracked the earth.
āOh, come on!ā the shorter bounty hunter shouted. āMagic?! Thatās cheating!ā
Gojo grinned. āI know.ā
The fight spilled into the square, drawing attention from the nearby tavern and market stalls. But no one stepped in. They just watchedāsilent, sharp-eyed. Rookridge didnāt seem like the kind of place that interfered.
The tall one tried a fancy moveāflipping off a crate and aiming for your head with a scream of overconfidence. You ducked, grabbed his belt mid-air, and slammed him into the ground.
He groaned. āYouāre⦠stronger than you look.ā
āYeah,ā you said, flipping your dagger once, āI get that a lot.ā
Gojo, meanwhile, had turned the fight into a performance. He was laughing, spinning, summoning brief flashes of light to blind and dazzle. Every move was unnecessarily theatrical, but undeniably effective.
The flail came flying again, and Gojo sidestepped with a flourish. āYou know, I thought about becoming a dancer once,ā he mused. āBut bounty hunters make such terrible partners.ā
The flail-wielder screamed in frustration and charged.
Gojo just blew him a kiss and raised his handāboom. A pulse of energy sent the man flying into a water trough.
Silence settled.
You stood over the tall one, breathing hard, dagger pressed to his throat.
āStill want that bounty?ā you asked.
He wheezed. āYouāre⦠both insane.ā
Gojo popped a piece of dried fruit into his mouth and winked. āAnd youāre boring.ā
The bounty hunters crawled off eventually, muttering curses and threats. You didnāt follow. Youād made your point.
āDo you always piss people off that quickly?ā you asked Gojo, wiping blood off your blade.
āOnly the people worth pissing off,ā he said cheerfully. āThat guyās sword was too clean. He needed humbling.ā
You glared at him. āThey couldāve killed us.ā
He tilted his head, mock-thoughtful. āBut they didnāt. Because youāre terrifying and Iām fabulous.ā
You exhaled hard and kept walking.
That night, you ended up at a tiny tavern on the edge of Rookridge. The innkeeper gave you both a once-over, eyes narrowing.
āYou bonded?ā
You blinked. āWhat?ā
āTownās prepping for the Moonbind Festival,ā she said. āOnly bonded pairs can stay the night. Security measures. Too many outlaws and opportunists about.ā
You turned to Gojo. āTell her weāre not staying.ā
Gojo slung an arm around your shoulders before you could move. āOf course we are! My darling and I just survived a double bounty ambushāwe deserve a real bed.ā
The woman squinted at you both.
You forced a smile. āWeāre very happy.ā
She handed over a key. āOnly one bed.ā
Gojo winked. āEven better.ā
You didnāt punch him. That counted as restraint.
---
You woke up to the sound of bells.
Not the sharp clang of alarms or the echo of church towersāthese were delicate, wind-chimed things, threaded between banners overhead and strung along doorways like blessings. The whole village had changed overnight. Rookridge was unrecognizable. The market stalls were blooming with silk and smoke, incense curling between jewel-toned tents, and the streets were packed with masked dancers who moved like water.
Gojo was already outside when you stumbled down from the room, leaning against the innās outer wall with a pastry in one hand and glitter on his cheek.
āHappy Moonbind,ā he said, offering a bite like you hadnāt nearly murdered him in the night for stealing the blanket.
You took it anyway. āWhat the hell is Moonbind?ā
āSeasonal festival,ā he said, chewing lazily. āMagicās thin during the solstice, so towns get nervous. The masks confuse spirits. The dancing keeps things grounded. And the bathsāoh, those are for purification.ā
You arched a brow. āYou sound like a tour guide.ā
He winked. āI did a season as one. Got fired for seducing the clientele.ā
You didnāt respond. Mostly because you were too busy trying to ignore the fact that he looked really good in the morning light. Loose shirt. Messy hair. Smudged charm and the kind of smile that had ruin me written all over it in invisible ink.
You hated him. You hated him.
You were starting to like him.
The festival carried on around you, full of performances and half-magic rituals. You watched a child pluck fire from a bowl with bare hands and turn it into confetti. A woman offered to tell your fortune for a coin and a strand of hair. Gojo convinced an illusionist to make him float six feet in the air, lounging like a cat on an invisible hammock, just so he could yell at you from above: āYou should try smiling sometime, yāknow!ā
You did smile. A little.
Just not at him.
Not that he noticed.
Or maybe he did. Bastard probably noticed everything.
By midday, you reached the temple.
It looked abandonedāhalf-sunken stone and creeping mossābut the inside pulsed faintly with something ancient. The puzzle room was beneath it, down a spiral staircase so narrow Gojo kept bumping into you āon accident.ā
āYou donāt have to keep touching me,ā you said.
āI know,ā he whispered, too close. āBut itās more fun if I do.ā
The trial was designed for two. Pressure plates. Mirrors. Glyphs that lit up when touched simultaneously from opposite ends of the room. It was built for partnership. Trust.
You hated it.
But you worked through itātogether.
You read the symbols. Gojo solved the riddles aloud like a smug professor. At one point, he grabbed your hand to guide it toward a panel and didnāt let go.
Neither did you.
Not immediately.
At the end of the trial, a vision struck.
You touched the relic in the center of the roomāand it hit you like a punch to the chest. You saw yourself, older. Alone. Blood on your hands. Gojoāgone. Or worse.
You stumbled back, dizzy with the weight of it.
Gojo caught you. Didnāt say anything. Just braced your fall like heād known it was coming.
āDonāt touch it again,ā he said softly, voice suddenly too serious.
āWhat did you see?ā you asked, still breathless.
His smile didnāt reach his eyes. āSomething I deserved.ā
You didnāt talk much after that. Not through the walk back, not through dinner, not even when Gojo tried to distract you by juggling apples for a group of children.
You kept thinking about what youād seen.
Not just the blood. Not just the loss.
You were starting to understand why he moved the way he did. Like he was running from something.
Same as you.
The bathhouse was empty when you entered.
Steam curled along the surface of the water, warm and thick. The stone walls were carved with crescent symbols, and candles floated in little wooden bowls, their reflections soft and golden.
Gojo was already in, of course. Neck deep, hair slicked back, eyes half-lidded.
āYou coming in or just planning to stare dramatically from the doorway all night?ā
You didnāt answer. Just undressed, slow and deliberate, like it didnāt matter.
But his eyes tracked every movement.
You slid into the water across from him and leaned back.
Neither of you spoke.
The silence was chargedāthick as steam, warm as blood.
Gojo broke it first.
āYou really trust me this little?ā
You opened one eye. āItās not about trust.ā
āWhat is it about, then?ā
You hesitated. āI donāt know.ā
He moved through the water slowly. Closer. Close enough that his knee brushed yours.
āYou looked scared today,ā he said. āWhen the relic showed you something.ā
āSo did you.ā
āYeah,ā he admitted. āBut Iāve been scared of that future a long time.ā
You watched him.
He wasnāt smiling now. No jokes. No theatrics. Just Gojoāquiet and tired and real.
And maybe it was the warmth. The silence. The ache in your chest that hadnāt left since the trial.
But you moved.
Just a little.
And he moved too.
When your mouths met, it wasnāt a kiss. It was a collision. Desperate. Sharp. You gripped his hair. He tugged you closer. Water splashed between you, arms and mouths and heat tangled like you were both afraid the other might disappear.
His lips trailed down your jaw. āStill hate me?ā
You exhaled hard. āYou talk too much.ā
He laughed, breathless, and pulled you into his lap like it cost him nothing.
But it did. You could feel itāin the way his hands shook slightly when they touched your waist, the way he kissed like someone trying to memorise the taste of safety.
You let him.
Let him press against you, skin to skin, steam rising around your joined bodies like a prayer.
It wasnāt soft.
It wasnāt rough either.
It was real.
Slow, gasping, fingers on hips, lips at neck. Your body burned. His voice broke. And for the first time in a long time, you didnāt feel hunted. You didnāt feel like an outlaw.
You just felt wanted.
After, you stayed in the water.
Gojo rested his head against your shoulder, quiet. For once.
You let him.
You didnāt say it. Not out loud.
But you were falling.
And it was already too late to stop.
---
The last time Gojo saw Geto Suguru, the world was on fire.
Not metaphorically. Not emotionally. Literally. Flames licked the rafters of the old church theyād hidden in for weeks, smoke curling like claws through the broken windows. Geto had been standing at the centre of it all, calm and golden and furious.
āYou were never going to stay, were you?ā he asked.
Gojo didnāt answer. He was too busy choosing which lie would hurt less.
Geto already knew the truth.
Theyād grown up togetherāsame orphan network, same underground circuit, trained to steal from sorcerers and run cons on temple grounds. Geto was the planner. Gojo was the charmer. And between the two of them, there wasnāt a vault in the empire they couldnāt crack.
Theyād talked about building something. Not a gangāa sanctuary. A real home. For people like them. Outlaws. Half-magic runaways. Curse-born kids. No one else would give them peace, so theyād make their own.
But then the Voidseed came into play.
An artifact that didnāt just show the futureāit rewrote it, anchored by whoever held it long enough to burn their soul into it. And Geto... Geto wanted to use it. Not to steal gold, but to change everything. Uproot the monarchy. Collapse the sorcerer courts. Win.
Gojo said no.
It wasnāt because he disagreed. It was because he knew what it would do to Geto. And to himself. You donāt touch a god and walk away unchanged.
So he stole it.
And ran.
Geto found him three days later with blood on his sleeve and the Voidseed gone.
āYou always think you know better,ā Geto said, voice like thunder in the silence. āYou always think youāre saving people. But you only ever save yourself.ā
The building collapsed before they finished that fight.
They havenāt seen each other since.
But Gojo still wakes up some nights with ash in his lungs and Getoās words etched into his ribs like scripture.
---
You didnāt talk much after that night.
Which was funny, considering the things youād done to each other in the water.
Gojo didnāt seem interested in defining anything. Just kept walking beside you like alwaysācracking jokes, stealing fruit, humming off-key under his breath like nothing in the world could touch him.
But it had.
You saw it in the way he paused before reaching for you now. The way his smile lingered longer than necessary. The way he said your name softer, like it meant something new.
He didnāt push. You didnāt ask. Whatever this was, it was becoming something more. And it terrified you.
The forest had grown thicker the closer you got to the outskirts of Serinfall.
Birdsong had vanished. The air was too still. Even the trees seemed to lean in, eavesdropping.
Thatās when you felt it.
Pressure. Wrongness. Like the kind of curse that leaves no mark but still crawls into your bones.
You stopped walking.
āDonāt move,ā you muttered.
Gojo froze, one hand halfway to his coat pocket. āYou sense it too?ā
Three shadows dropped from the trees. Silent. Sharp. Their movements werenāt humanāsmooth like oil, reeking of borrowed magic and blood money.
One of Getoās, you realized. Or maybe all three.
āWell, well,ā the tallest one said, voice like spoiled honey. āLook what the moon dragged in. Satoru Gojo and his latest fling.ā
Gojo didnāt rise to the bait. He just tilted his head and smiled like he was bored. āYou shouldāve brought more than three.ā
You didnāt wait for them to strike.
You moved.
It wasnāt clean. Fights never were.
Steel met steel. Cursefire crackled in the underbrush. You ducked, rolled, blocked a blade with your forearm and sent your dagger into the bastardās throat before he even blinked.
Gojo handled two of them at once. No blindfold this timeājust power barely held in check, lighting his hands like wildfire. He moved like sin, like something too beautiful to survive this world. You hated how much you liked watching him fight.
When it was over, you stood with blood in your mouth and a tear in your sleeve.
Gojo looked worseācut lip, bruised cheekbone, smile still in place.
āYou alright?ā he asked.
You stared at him. āDid you let one of them punch you?ā
āā¦Maybe.ā
āWhy?ā
āI wanted you to worry about me.ā
āYouāre insufferable.ā
āYouāre in love with me.ā
You didnāt answer.
Because it was starting to feel a little bit true.
You set up camp that night under a sky full of stars.
The fire crackled. The silence stretched. Gojo poked at the flames with a stick like a bored child.
You finally broke it.
āWhyād you leave him?ā
He didnāt pretend not to know who you meant.
āI thought I was saving him,ā he said, softly. āAnd I was wrong.ā
He didnāt look at you. Just stared into the fire like it held the answer to a question he still didnāt want to ask out loud.
āHe had a plan,ā Gojo continued. āA big one. Clean the slate. Destroy the courts. Give power back to the cursed-born. But the relic⦠it doesnāt work like that. It takes. It always takes. It would've eaten him from the inside out.ā
āSo you stole it.ā
āI stole everything,ā he said. āHis trust. Our future. Maybe his soul.ā
You sat there in silence for a long time.
Then you leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder.
āYou donāt look like a hero,ā you said.
He huffed a laugh. āYou donāt either.ā
You let his hand find yours in the dark.
Neither of you said anything after that.
But the fire burned warm, and the stars didnāt feel so far away anymore.
---
You felt it thrumming.
Like a heartbeat that didnāt belong to you.
The Voidseed.
Still tucked safely in the hidden lining of your coat. Still pulsing like it knew you were close ā too close. It had started earlier that morning, a low buzz under your ribs, and hadnāt stopped since.
āYouāre twitchier than usual,ā Gojo said, walking just behind you.
You didnāt turn. āTwitchier than you when someone tells you no?ā
āPlease. I thrive on rejection.ā
The path narrowed as the trees thinned into pale, bone-dry rock. You could smell the vault now ā stone and decay and something that didnāt belong in this world. A place that had been locked away for good reason.
And yet, you were headed straight for it.
Gojo adjusted the strap of his pack with a whistle. āSo. End of the road.ā
You exhaled. āNot yet.ā
āClose enough.ā
He caught up, his shoulder brushing yours. You didnāt move away.
āItās still with you, right?ā he asked, voice low but easy. āThe Voidseed.ā
āYeah.ā
āNo sudden urges to use it? Wield a little death? Rewrite the laws of the known universe?ā
You rolled your eyes. āNot today.ā
āGood. Wouldāve hated to kill you before dinner.ā
You almost smiled. Almost.
The vault sat buried beneath the ruin of a forgotten temple ā jagged stone stairs leading down into shadow. The door was etched in old language, crawling with vines. No lock. No trap. Just a sense of wrong that made the skin on your arms rise.
Gojo stood beside you, quiet for once.
āWhat happens if we open it?ā you asked.
He didnāt answer right away. Just stared at the door like it had whispered something only he could hear.
āDepends,ā he said eventually. āWhat Geto wants⦠itās not just power. Itās change. Revolution. Burn-it-all-down kind of change.ā
āAnd you donāt?ā
āI wanted it too,ā Gojo said. āOnce. But not like this.ā
He looked at you, eyes clearer than they had any right to be.
āI want to live. Thatās different.ā
You looked away.
Because suddenly the Voidseed felt heavier.
Because his hand was brushing yours again, and you didnāt pull back.
Because you werenāt sure who you were anymore without the violence, the chase, the lie.
And because you might want the same thing.
---
The air changed the moment you stepped inside.
Colder. Thicker. Like something was pressing down on your lungs, or maybe pressing ināwatching. The stairs spiraled tight, stone slick with condensation and old blood. Each step you took felt louder than the last.
Behind you, Gojo didnāt say a word.
He hadnāt spoken since the door unsealed itself at your touch.
Didnāt have to.
You both knew what this place was.
Not just a vault. Not just the end of the map.
It was the place the world came to die.
At the bottom, the space opened wide.
A dome of black stone, pulsing faintly with light from no source at all. Runes crawled across the walls like scars. And in the center ā a dais. Empty. Waiting.
You felt the Voidseed in your coat begin to ache.
Gojo stepped forward slowly, gaze moving across the carvings.
āThis is older than the clans,ā he murmured. āBefore the curses. Before the courts. Before the Nine.ā
āYou think Geto knows that?ā
āI think he doesnāt care.ā
He turned, eyes meeting yours.
āYou know heās here, right?ā
Your jaw tightened. āHow long?ā
āSince the last town. Maybe longer.ā
You exhaled through your nose. āAnd you didnāt say anything?ā
āI didnāt want to ruin the honeymoon.ā
You almost laughed. Almost.
But the temperature dropped againāhard.
The shadows in the corners moved.
And then he stepped out.
No disguise. No mask.
Just Geto Suguru, dressed in travel-worn robes and half a smile.
He looked like a man whoād already won.
āHello, boys.ā
Gojo didnāt flinch. āYouāre late.ā
āI figured Iād let the newlyweds have their privacy.ā
He glanced at youāat the Voidseed you hadnāt yet drawn.
And smiled.
āYou brought it,ā he said softly. āI knew you would.ā
You held your ground. āI didnāt bring it for you.ā
āNo?ā Geto tilted his head, almost fond. āThen why come at all?ā
Gojo moved slightlyājust a step, a shift in weight, the start of something violent.
And Geto raised one hand.
The air shattered.
A blast of cursed energy slammed the space between you, forcing you back.
Gojo caught your wrist to steady you, his own energy flaring like lightning beneath skin.
Geto didnāt press.
He just looked at the two of you like something hurt.
āYou couldāve come with me,ā he said. Quiet. Intimate.
āYou couldāve stayed,ā Gojo answered.
Their gazes locked. A thousand memories between them. All knives.
And you stood between themāVoidseed burning against your ribs, heart in your throat.
Because the real question wasnāt who was right.
It was who you were going to choose.
---
The air cracked.
No warning, no flare of ego, no last chance to runājust Geto, moving. His cursed energy split the silence like a fault line, and suddenly you were airborne, legs kicked out from under you by a wave of force that struck faster than thunder.
Gojo caught it before it could reach you againāhis arm out, barrier flaring with that same searing white-gold burn that lived behind his blindfold.
āLanguage of violence, huh?ā he muttered. āGuess weāre skipping the dance.ā
You rolled to your feet. āWerenāt you the one saying he was sentimental?ā
Gojo grinned without humor. āYeah, and now I remember why thatās terrifying.ā
Geto didnāt wait.
Another flick of his wrist and the temple shuddered, a wall of blackened energy exploding upward like a tideājagged, writhing, wrong. Gojo met it mid-air, a flash of his Limitless energy spiraling into the blast and cracking it apart like glass.
You moved then. No hesitation. No warning.
Your daggerāyour favorite one, the one hidden in the boot heel you never took offāwas in your hand before your mind caught up, your body cutting toward Geto in a blur. He saw you coming. Let you come.
āYouāve been walking with him all this time,ā he said as you struck. āDoes he even know what you are?ā
You didnāt answer. Didnāt need to. Your blade met the edge of his cursed barrier and burnedānot from contact, but from your own energy spiking harder than you expected. The Voidseed pulsed once against your chest, like it wanted out.
Getoās eyes flicked to it.
And then he struck.
A cursed lash shot out from his palm like a whip of shadow, aimed not at you but through youātargeting Gojo. You twisted, took the hit sideways instead of clean through. The energy scraped through your side like acid, but you didnāt fall.
You screamed something raw and wordlessāmaybe Gojoās name. Maybe just rage.
Gojo answered with silence.
And violence.
He vanished. Reappeared behind Geto with that cruel smirk he wore like armor. His hand curled around the base of Getoās skull and slammed him forward, into the stone floor. The ground cratered. Dust filled the vault.
Geto coughed blood, cursed energy flaring around his body like a second skin.
āStill hiding behind your pretty face, Satoru?ā he rasped. āStill scared of what you could be if you stopped playing the hero?ā
Gojo didnāt reply.
This wasnāt about philosophy.
This was about the Voidseed. About you. About the temple that was not meant to open, and a past that refused to stay buried.
You pressed your palm to the wound on your side, felt the hot, slow trickle of blood. The Voidseed thrummed harder now, wild and hungry, like it was tasting the end before it came.
The world narrowed.
Geto was rising.
Gojoās hands curled into fists.
And you?
You moved toward the center.
Toward the dais. Toward the thing youād carried through storms and near-death and stupid arguments and fake marriages and quiet, aching mornings where Gojo let you rest your head against his shoulder and didnāt say a thing.
It was time to decide what to do with it.
Whether to keep running.
Or finally let the whole world burn.
---
The Voidseed was screaming now.
Not with sound, but with want. With a pressure behind your eyes, a song in your teeth. Your skin burned where it touched your chest, your blood responding in time to its pulse. It wanted to be used. To become something.
You staggered toward the dais, vision tunneling. Behind you, Gojo and Geto were still locked in warāflashes of cursed energy so bright they lit the room in strobes, tearing cracks through ancient stone and memory alike.
āSatoru,ā Geto was snarling, somewhere in the wreckage. āYou always were too soft.ā
āAnd you were always too bitter to admit you lost me first,ā Gojo spat back. āDonāt take it out on him.ā
On him.
You turned sharply. Gojo wasnāt even looking at Geto anymore. His eyes were on you.
Blood dripped from his temple. One arm hung at an awkward angle. His barrier flickered like a dying starābut his focus was clear. Steady. Like you were the only thing keeping him upright.
āHey,ā he called out, half-laugh, half-desperation. āDonāt let it eat you. Youāre more stubborn than that.ā
Geto moved to strike him down. A flick of the wrist, a curse erupting in a black waveā
ābut you moved first.
You didnāt think.
You threw the Voidseed.
It spun in the air like a star too bright to touchā
āand exploded.
Not outward. Not in heat or fire or destruction.
It unfolded.
The world warped inward, colors leaking, time hiccuping. Everything twisted like you were looking through broken glass. You felt your feet leave the floor. The dais cracked beneath you. Gojo and Geto were both flung backward like dolls caught in the mouth of a storm.
But youā¦
You were still standing.
Because it had chosen you.
You donāt remember grabbing it again.
But suddenly, the Voidseed was in your palm, blooming like a flower carved from shadow and light.
And Gojo was dragging himself toward you, chest heaving, hand outstretched.
āDonātāā he said, voice wrecked. āDonāt use it. Not like this.ā
Geto, on the other side of the rubble, laughedāragged, ruined.
āYou think he hasnāt already?ā he spat. āYou think heās yours now?ā
Gojo didnāt look away from you. Not even for a second.
āHeās his own.ā
You looked at him.
At the man who saw you break open a vault, who shared meals and bathtubs and one stupid bed. Who let you steal the Voidseed and never once asked you to give it up.
And something inside youāsomething poisoned by rage and survival and so many lonely nightsābroke.
āIām tired,ā you whispered. You werenāt even sure who you were talking to.
Gojo was there in an instant. Hands on your wrists. Warm. Real.
āI know,ā he said. āI know. Just stay here. With me.ā
The Voidseed flared.
And thenā
You turned.
You faced Geto.
And you chose.
---
You didnāt remember lifting the Voidseed.
You just remember how quiet it got.
Geto rose from the rubble, his body wrecked and bleeding, but still standing. He looked at you like he pitied you. Like he thought you were still small.
āYou donāt know what that thing will do to you,ā he said softly, like a prayer gone bitter. āItās not a weapon. Itās a mirror.ā
You stepped forward, past Gojoās outstretched hand.
Past his warning.
Past your own fear.
āI know,ā you said. And you let it bloom.
The world peeled open.
No light. No sound. Just pressure ā the unbearable density of everything at once. Your breath caught as the Voidseed unraveled in your chest, carving lines of raw power across your skin like constellations.
Geto braced himself. Raised his hand.
But he wasnāt fast enough.
The Voidseed reached out like a second spine, like your soul had teeth, like the universe remembered you owed it something ā and this was how youād pay.
You spoke his name.
Not out loud.
Not in a language with words.
You just spoke it, and the power knew what to do.
Geto didnāt scream. He justā
folded in on himself.
Unmade. Quietly.
Not as revenge. Not even as punishment.
Just as balance.
When the light returned, the temple was cracked open like a wound.
You were still standing. Barely. The dais had crumbled beneath your feet, the Voidseed now dark in your palm ā used, emptied, but still warm. Like it hadnāt left, just gone quiet.
You dropped it.
It didnāt bounce.
Gojo caught you before you fell, one hand steady under your ribs, the other cradling the back of your head like something fragile had survived.
āI thought I told you not to use it like that,ā he murmured.
You blinked at him, blood in your teeth. āYou also told me not to flirt with bounty hunters. We both ignore good advice.ā
He laughed, then kissed your forehead like he needed to know you were real.
You didnāt speak for a long time after that.
You sat with him in the broken vault, backs against the ruins, breath syncing up again. The kind of silence that meant you werenāt running anymore. Not today.
Eventually, he nudged your shoulder.
āYou still got one bed in you?ā he asked. āBecause Iām thinking hot springs, low ceilings, terrible fake names.ā
You looked at him ā messy, bleeding, half-destroyed.
Thinking about how when you start dating satoru, you NEVER shower alone again.
Like, heās making dinner and he hears the water start running? Heās barely remembering to turn the stove off before tearing through the house towards the bathroom, peeling his clothes off as he runs and almost eating shit in his haste.
Itās not even entirely for sex reasons, (though that is a strong motivator for him most of the time) sometimes heās pulling back the shower curtain and slipping in beside you just to wash your hair, just to scrub that one part of your back you canāt quite reach. He loves rubbing the soap suds into your skin and watching you melt under his ministrations, loves the way you look so vulnerable with your hair dripping wet, completely naked and comfortable with him, and only him.
Even if heās already had a shower that day, just a few hours earlier (the whole time he was waiting for you to slip in next to him- going as far as washing his hair three times, just to stall- but you werenāt quite at his level of freak, yet) the second he hears you grabbing a towel from the cabinet, heās jumping up from his spot on the couch and running over the the bathroom, only to despairingly find the door locked.
āHoney, why is the door locked?ā His words come out accusing, like youāve committed some heinous crime instead of simply protecting your peace. Heās jiggling the door handle like a child whoās made it to the car before his mom has unlocked the door, impatient and irritated.
You huff, naked on the other side of the door, afraid the hinges might give out from his insistent jostling.
āBecause!ā reasoning with him is useless, and yet you still try. āI need an everything shower and youāre just going to distract me!ā
A pause on the other side of the door, the squeeking of metal protesting under his strength stopping, before it starts up again, harder. āI am your everything shower!ā
if you guys knew the extent of my brainrot for an idol/actor gojo x idol/actor male reader series ā¦
š§š»lich rally brought me back from my very long writing slump because of uni (couldnāt bring myself to write ever since it started in january)
iāve already got everything planned š from how they get together, how iād like for their relationship to progress, even up to situations in a jjk-universe setting for the gojo x male reader
terrible terrible brainrot.
itās only a matter of when iāll decide to indulge š
on brainrot for a certain couple, so inspired by them, hereās how gojo satoru would be when heās jealous
aka : male! reader being in a private somethingship with co-celebrity (idol/actor) gojo satoru
you werenāt official.
not publicly. not even privately, if you were to be honest.
what you were, was complicated. charged. tense.
late-night rehearsals bleeding into early-morning car rides back to your apartments. shared hotel rooms and beds for āconvenience.ā
the occasional excuse to sit too close because there āisnāt enough space.ā the half-held glances that you both pretended not to notice. the discreet skinship that you insisted was accidental.
it was backstage at a music show when it happened.
you were dressed in this flawless, pressed, immaculate stage persona. eyes lined, jaws sharp, and the deep navy silk of your shirt tucked in just right. gojo had barely looked at you all evening, except for a few long, hungry glances.
you were used to his teasingā had been exposed to the flirty flurry of his words moving about like sunlight. you were used to gojo satoruā cocky, charming, obnoxious.
but that night?
something was different.
the both of you just finished an on-stage bit for the show. youād exchange a playful hug with geto suguru, a well-known actor and host. youāve known him ways back, so it was nothing unusualā a friendly arm over his shoulder, a lean-in joke to his mic, some laughter from the crowd.
but when you stepped backstage and got back to the comfort of your dressing room, gojo didnāt say a word. no teasing remark, no obnoxious joke, not even a playful banter.
gojo walks up behind you. just close enough that the heat of him pressed through the fabric, through your breath.
the room was quiet, save for the beat of your heart that you swore could be heard by the people outside.
you turned slowly to look up at gojo and simply uttered, āwhat?ā
he doesnāt smile.
gojo leans in, caging you with his arms; one hand to the mirror behind your head. the other rested on your hipā not tight, but firm.
a beat passes by before he says anything.
ādidnāt like that,ā gojo muttered.
you blink as you feel your heartbeat skip, ādidnāt like what?ā
āthe way he touched you.ā his voice was low. not angry, but dangerous. jealous in a way you had never seen before on a man like gojo satoru. āput his arm around you like he could.ā
you breathe, suddenly feeling warm.
āhe couldnāt,ā you said, although unsure why you even needed to explain. why you had the urge to placate the man before you.
gojoās fingers curled slightly, āi know. but still.ā
still.
that word echoed.
your breath gets stuck in your throat as his hand moves, slowly sliding from your waist to the small of your back as he turns you toward him. it anchors you in a way thatās possessive. not aggressive. just⦠there.
āyou like that?ā gojo asks, head tilting as his mouth achingly stays a few inches away from yours. āwhen i get like this?ā
something in you wanted to say no.
you wanted to say that it was ridiculous. that he was overreacting. that all of this was unnecessary. that it was all for show.
but insteadā
you feel your eyes flutter shut and you clench your hands in his shirt and you whisper a weak āā¦yeah.ā
gojo exhales like a man relieved. as if heād been holding back and just got permission to stop.
he kissed you then. deep. slow.
with claiming in it.
and that was the moment you realized that you loved it.
you loved being gojo satoruās.
not just in the playful ways, the teasing bits on camera, or the flirty exchanges in interviews.
no. you loved this. the rawness of it all. the way gojoās need slipped beneath his skin like heat. the way it melted all that ingrained stage-polish and control off him in seconds.
the way it said: you donāt belong to anyone else. youāre mine. iām yours.
you didnāt need the words.
you just needed the look. and the hands. and the way gojo kissed you like you were his biggest secret heās struggling to keep in.
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.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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on brainrot for a certain couple, so inspired by them, hereās how gojo satoru would be when heās jealous
aka : male! reader being in a private somethingship with co-celebrity (idol/actor) gojo satoru
you werenāt official.
not publicly. not even privately, if you were to be honest.
what you were, was complicated. charged. tense.
late-night rehearsals bleeding into early-morning car rides back to your apartments. shared hotel rooms and beds for āconvenience.ā
the occasional excuse to sit too close because there āisnāt enough space.ā the half-held glances that you both pretended not to notice. the discreet skinship that you insisted was accidental.
it was backstage at a music show when it happened.
you were dressed in this flawless, pressed, immaculate stage persona. eyes lined, jaws sharp, and the deep navy silk of your shirt tucked in just right. gojo had barely looked at you all evening, except for a few long, hungry glances.
you were used to his teasingā had been exposed to the flirty flurry of his words moving about like sunlight. you were used to gojo satoruā cocky, charming, obnoxious.
but that night?
something was different.
the both of you just finished an on-stage bit for the show. youād exchange a playful hug with geto suguru, a well-known actor and host. youāve known him ways back, so it was nothing unusualā a friendly arm over his shoulder, a lean-in joke to his mic, some laughter from the crowd.
but when you stepped backstage and got back to the comfort of your dressing room, gojo didnāt say a word. no teasing remark, no obnoxious joke, not even a playful banter.
gojo walks up behind you. just close enough that the heat of him pressed through the fabric, through your breath.
the room was quiet, save for the beat of your heart that you swore could be heard by the people outside.
you turned slowly to look up at gojo and simply uttered, āwhat?ā
he doesnāt smile.
gojo leans in, caging you with his arms; one hand to the mirror behind your head. the other rested on your hipā not tight, but firm.
a beat passes by before he says anything.
ādidnāt like that,ā gojo muttered.
you blink as you feel your heartbeat skip, ādidnāt like what?ā
āthe way he touched you.ā his voice was low. not angry, but dangerous. jealous in a way you had never seen before on a man like gojo satoru. āput his arm around you like he could.ā
you breathe, suddenly feeling warm.
āhe couldnāt,ā you said, although unsure why you even needed to explain. why you had the urge to placate the man before you.
gojoās fingers curled slightly, āi know. but still.ā
still.
that word echoed.
your breath gets stuck in your throat as his hand moves, slowly sliding from your waist to the small of your back as he turns you toward him. it anchors you in a way thatās possessive. not aggressive. just⦠there.
āyou like that?ā gojo asks, head tilting as his mouth achingly stays a few inches away from yours. āwhen i get like this?ā
something in you wanted to say no.
you wanted to say that it was ridiculous. that he was overreacting. that all of this was unnecessary. that it was all for show.
but insteadā
you feel your eyes flutter shut and you clench your hands in his shirt and you whisper a weak āā¦yeah.ā
gojo exhales like a man relieved. as if heād been holding back and just got permission to stop.
he kissed you then. deep. slow.
with claiming in it.
and that was the moment you realized that you loved it.
you loved being gojo satoruās.
not just in the playful ways, the teasing bits on camera, or the flirty exchanges in interviews.
no. you loved this. the rawness of it all. the way gojoās need slipped beneath his skin like heat. the way it melted all that ingrained stage-polish and control off him in seconds.
the way it said: you donāt belong to anyone else. youāre mine. iām yours.
you didnāt need the words.
you just needed the look. and the hands. and the way gojo kissed you like you were his biggest secret heās struggling to keep in.
coming back to tumblr after so long (jus a few days) to learn that you guys went crazy on tne hjh ficā¦
āve got a few wips iām finishing so i could post before i go silent again cos the semās ab to start ⦠but thank yew guys for going crazy on the hjh fic j Appreciate the unhinged reblogs
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.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
myunggi nsfw and sfw headcannons please please please I can't find much of his ficsššš
lee myunggi headcanons (sfw & nsfw)
a/n: thereās not enough content for this man on this app PLEASE ! TT
S2 SPOILERS!
nsfw under the cut. MDNI
sfw
dating him prior and outside of the games
heās charismatic and witty, as evidenced by his influencer background
and heās got you under his charms too :)
yes, itās a you fell first he fell harder type of situation.
when you first start dating he may try to act cool
when he becomes fully comfortable, the silly guy in him will come out
despite his growing channel (before he delved into crypto scam), heād prefer cute and simple dates at home
if you go out, it would be to the arcade
heās shit at claw machine games, mid at gun fighting games, and questionably good at dance dance revolutionā¦
mans is also surprisingly good at karaoke
when he discovers you like his singing voice, he makes it a point to send you a voice message of him singing if you ask for it :)
he sees youāre stressed? he urges you to cuddle (him as the big spoon [for now]) so he could sing to you softly
he wants to annoy you? he sings some random commercial song too many times it becomes an ear worm
main love languages: acts of service, physical touch
if he could, he would!
he likes to be depended on. likes it when heās able to make you happy with his actions
actually even if he couldnāt⦠he still wouldā¦
what i mean is⦠i see this man not being able to cook (at least not as good as you) but heād still attempt it
what do you mean you canāt burn soup? he just did š he forgot to turn the stove off, ās all!
at least you let him cook the rice�
hey⦠no oneās perfect!
heās big on physical touch in private :] might be a little more reserved in public. the most heād do is a lil peck on the lips
but when youāre in private, this man is going nowhere. his hand has to be on you at all times
has a jealous streak >__< gets angry when someone gets too close but you then get mad when he gets too possessive
because myunggi why are you fighting a child who declared he marry y/n? thatās literally⦠a child.
he stands his grounds and gets all huffy
so then you get mad at him
which makes him regret it a bit⦠and equips his get along tactic
his get along tactic with you, when youāre angry at him, is to hold your hand tightly and follow you whereverā¦
so now you have this tall puppy of a man anchored to you⦠please stop being angry at him. no he wonāt let go until youāve gotten along again.
when heās angry at you, he does the same :] šš» he tries to ignore you at first but it makes him sad so he uses his get along tactic
when he starts to go into the deep dark rabbit hole of crypto scam and his MG Coin YouTuber persona, he unfortunately changes a bit
the stress of it allā the accumulating debt, the anger of fans-turned-hatersā it makes him lose sleep
he develops insomnia from it all unfortunately
youāre the only one that can anchor him. this also means he becomes more clingy, more desperate for your love
but when people start to go after you for his faults⦠heās unable to bear it all. his breaking point is seeing threats directed at you for his debts.
suddenly he just disappears⦠:( and all you can find from his apartment is a brown card with shapes on the front and a bunch of numbers on the back
if you meet him during the games
you noticed player 333 before the first game started.
heās admittedly cute and youāve seen him on youtube before (you just didnāt get into crypto because it seemed complicated)
but heās got enemies in the game youād rather not cross (you really donāt want to fight with the grape-haired rapper and his lackeyā¦)
when you get back to the sleeping quarters after the first game, safe to say youāre traumatized. youāre stuck in a big death trap with a bunch of lunatics you donāt knowā¦
in the second game, you unwillingly befriended player 333 (who you learned was named myunggi [cute name], aka MG Coin) when you got into a group with him and some other people
the desperation of it all made you and him closer after you survive the second round
although itās a bit hard to get him to talk, heās become more open in reciprocating the conversation than when you first started
he learns about your backgroundā how you ended up there for the sake of medical bills. you learn about hisā although you already had some inkling
he begins to admire your bravery⦠for staying in the games despite the fear of going through all of it again. so he vowed to help you get through it
he becomes attached during the third game. you held on to his hand out of fear when the platform first rotatedā¦
but he also never let go.
when someone tries to sabotage you by forcibly pulling you out of the room, he comes to the rescue and removes you from that someoneās grasp so you could be safe
when the rebellion starts and you tearfully beg him to stay, he stays.
hereās to hoping for yours and his survival⦠but at least youāve got someone close with you through it all :)
MDNI UNDER THE CUT. interact at your own risk, you have been warned.
nsfw
when i say he values physical touch, i mean it.
he has to have his hands on you
he likes to hold on to your waist the most
in private, he uses your chest as stress balls šš»
but heās somehow more of an ass and thighs man ⦠he likes to hold on to your thighs when you have sex
so yes⦠he likes missionary best. to see you writhe under him while he tightly holds on to your thighs sends him to heaven every time
does foreplay for you :]
big big big on aftercare. likes the intimacy of it all :)
doesnāt like toys i feelā¦
has a jealous streak, as iāve said
if he definitely is jealous of some guy/girl, heād take it out on you !
does angry sex best that it would have your legs shaking. best believe youād be stuck in your bed til the next day
goes fast and hard when angry! this man !!! this man !!!!!
definitely has a breeding kink !
big acts of service typa man heād prefer to eat you out than the other way around
whiny when you tease him and ride him out slowly :] dEAR LORD THIS MAN !!! when he has enough of your games he will take control, get ahold of your hips tightly and thrust into you as he likes