Y/n: *holding The Baby* Nine Months In My Womb....making Me Suffer.....

Teahouse Jealousy

"He was honest about his desires. That is a swordsman who knows the shape of his soul."

~

Things have been building for a while. Mizu is happy to avoid the topic, in favor of focusing on her mission. Finding yourself exasperated, you accept some help from an unexpected source.

~~

A/N: ITS DONE, FINALLY. Fucking 7600 WORDS of slow-burn mutual pining, bad communication, and jealousy. But hey, I did manage to fit in some spice at the end, hey?

Anyway, this is my first actual fic on here, so lmk what you guys think? Should I stick to lists? :,)

WARNING: this is REALLY LONG. I'm very sorry.

TW: jealousy, mentions of murder, mentions of sex work, SPICE

For this outing, Mizu insists on the boy disguise, your least favorite. You greatly prefer it when you can pretend to be her wife (of course), or even possible meat for the flesh market–because then she plays it up, a hand on your lower back, her voice dropped to an extra raspy register. But that last one is rare; you know the cost that playing that role seems to take on her, and you don't encourage it, despite the tingles it sends up your spine.

And you certainly don't complain about the freedom the boy disguise gives you for movement. But it does limit your ability to speak, as well as blocking your ability to get close to her side…you would never admit the reason you don't like it, but your reproachful expression says enough. She huffs out a sigh.

“Nobody brings a maiden to a brothel. You'll make us look odd,” she tells you, in the tone of voice that brooks no argument.

You wilt further the second she mentions a brothel, zoning out Ringo’s anxious questions; it was bad enough clenching your fists and staying silent while those two women ran their hands over her in Kyoto; now she's actually seeking such a place out? Your stomach squirms. Kyoto, and every moment of that visit, are burned into your brain. You share a trepidatious look with Ringo. You vow not to leave her side for even a second.

~~

Your explicit instructions were to “just look flustered and don't say anything”. That's not hard. You avoid eye contact with the working girls, and stare down at the table while you all wait for Kaji. The atmosphere of sexuality is stifling; it mingles strangely in your stomach with your feelings for Mizu, leaving you feeling on-edge, paranoid about being caught out. You could almost believe that these women, of anyone, will be able to smell the desire on you at a single glance. You've got Mizu’s fingerprints denting the very clay of your soul.

Madam Kaji, when she appears, does nothing to set those fears at rest. Her voice may be melodic, but you can feel her eyes scrape over you like a razor, as if they could peel back your skin and see underneath. You do your best to mimic Mizu's flat stare; after this long traveling together, you usually manage rather well. You've even managed to shoo off a few bothersome pests of your own in the past. This time, though, there's a hard edge to her smile that makes you wonder how much slipped through.

~

For all Ringo says about an apprentice should stay with his master, you somehow seem to lose sight of him in the walk from the corner where you were sitting to the hallway Madam Kaji pauses in. You remain by Mizu’s side. You don't feel any scorn towards Ringo for this. Nobody could say he isn't as loyal as they come, but desire is a powerful force.

Desire. Need. It's why Ringo disappears, and why you don't. He has his own desires to attend to, and you can respect that. But there's nothing in this brothel that you desire more than what you're already standing next to.

Madam Kaji motions to a small pocket of light at the base of one of the hallway panels. There’s a pause. When Mizu doesn't move to look through the peephole, Madam Kaji motions in your direction. “Perhaps the gentleman's apprentice would like to show him that desire is nothing to shy away from?”

You freeze like a cornered deer, meeting her taunting gaze with wide eyes. Her expression says it all; there's a test in this somewhere, a challenge.

Where the hell is Ringo. Trust him to be gone when there's something he would actually want to do. Nevermind on that whole no-scorn thing! You're going to kick him next time you see him.

Your pleading glance at Mizu produces no reaction; she doesn't even look your way. She's simply glaring at Madam Kaji. Challenges have never bothered her; if she doesn't want to do something, she just doesn't. Ugh. Someone needs to do something.

You look through the hole.

…Hm.

Honestly…it's not that bad.

Strange, certainly. The men in ropes, the writing, but you find yourself privately siding with Madam Kaji; it's nothing shameful. Just more of what you had observed while waiting in the main teahouse room. They're not bothering anybody. You consider that there have been worse atrocities you've seen in your travels with Mizu, all the way back to your first meeting.

You shrug up at Mizu. It’s nothing she'll be interested in, nor that she needs to see. She just looks even more impatient at the delay, fingers tapping on her crossed arms. The expression she shoots at Kaji is her classic get on with it glare.

Smirking, Madam Kaji motions to the final peephole. By now, you've lost your hesitation. If you feel anything, you're relieved that this is the last one. This shuffling around on your knees is not only making them sore, it's embarrassing to do with two people standing silently over you, eyeing each other warily.

You peer in.

At first glance, it seems to be just a man and a woman–nothing so strange as the other ones. The man is dressed in dark blue, his hair tied up in a knot like Mizu’s. But then the girl turns to the man, pushing his yukata off his shoulders; it's not a man, but another girl, bared to the touch of the first woman. They kiss, bodies molding together with no hesitation.

You tumble back abruptly, eyes wide, feeling your face flush so fast that the skin on your neck is prickling.

“What? What?” Momentarily distracted from glaring, Mizu looks startled by your reaction. When you shake your head in silence, worried that explaining would give your secret away, she glares suspiciously at Madam Kaji. She's clearly bristling at your apparent distress, assuming you've had a trick played on you. She reaches down to haul you to your feet with a rough tug to your arm, shoving herself half in front of you. “What did you show-...him?”

Kaji’s eyes narrow a fraction at Mizu’s brief stumble on your pronouns, and she smiles, sharp as a knife. With a little click, she slides the peephole shut. “Desire. A complicated thing,” she murmurs in that teasing, seductive tone. “We are not always ready to face it when it first finds us.”

She slides open another full panel, revealing a pleasantly decorated little room. A couple of the girls are in there, already, setting up a table with ink and paper. They look up and giggle when they see you both, their eyes lingering on your flushed cheeks. You can feel them darken again under the scrutiny, and drop your eyes to the mat until the girls leave. When you hear the panel slide shut, you look up to see Madam Kaji’s eyes on you. As soon as you make eye contact, her gaze slide away, to Mizu.

She doesn't look at you again until the moment of Mizu’s proposal.

You both can see the moment that the refusal in Kaji’s eyes wavers, but something else flickers in their depths when she glances between you, and you know what's coming. She wants to talk to Mizu alone.

With Mizu's husky name your desire still bouncing around in your head, obliterating your every other thought but how much you want her, Kaji's desire to exclude you makes you want to bite the woman like a territorial dog. You take a half-step closer to Mizu as Kaji suggests that she take a walk with the gentleman “one-on-one”.

“Perhaps the gentleman’s apprentice would like to enjoy some of the pleasures of my teahouse while…he waits?” She asks sweetly, her smile warm and her eyes hard as gemstones.

Mizu looks at you expectantly, seemingly unbothered by this; she'd probably agree to making you wait on the roof if it got her the information she wanted. You shake your head instead, giving her a look of incredulity in return. Obviously no. When is she going to start trusting you to stay at her side? What do you have to do to prove yourself?

“I haven't got any money,” you reply cleverly, keeping your voice as hushed as you can to disguise it, your eyes flicking up to meet blue orbs like a challenge. You can't really refuse, given that you're playing at master-and-apprentice, but you can make it hard. She can't keep shutting you out. Not this time; now you have an excuse. What prostitute will keep you busy for no money?

A brief light of pure, gremlin devilment comes into her eyes–it doesn't happen often that her rare sense of play is roused, but from what you've seen, that never means good things for the recipient. You should have known better; Mizu never tolerates being maneuvered into allowing something she doesn't want.

She holds the money bag out to you with a little shake to jangle it, and you deflate visibly.

For a moment, there's an unspoken moment of confusion and communication both ways; at first, Mizu holds the money bag out with an almost teasing smirk, clearly indicating let’s see how you manage this one. She doesn't see any danger in it. You can always just sit in the room alone. She's only interested in making a point; this is about negating your excuse.

But when you slump with such an obvious air of rejection, the playfulness drops from her gaze, replaced with a bemused concern. She'll be back in a handful of minutes, why is it such a big deal? This isn’t your fight, you don't need to be here to begin with, much less be stuck with her every moment of the day. So… why does she feel such a pang at your hurt face? You in turn see the momentary flash of confused guilt in her eyes, before she drops the money bag in your hands.

It startles you. You didn't expect that she would care.

Madam Kaji, watching all this and not missing a single beat, says nothing. She claps sharply. Two girls pop out of what seems to be nowhere, taking your hand with an air of false promise in their eyes.

“Ooh. you’re a pretty one,” one purrs, tilting her head with carefully practiced flirtation.

“We almost never see any young and pretty boys,” the other concurs. It’s like being slowly engulfed by the coils of a very nicely perfumed snake. At Madam Kaji’s nod, you’re tugged away, looking over your shoulder at Mizu with a distinct air of betrayal. You fully expect her to turn away, but she keeps staring as the girls lead you back into the room, her expression unreadable.

Even after the door slides shut, she doesn’t move, listening to the giggling emanating from inside, her hand clenching unconsciously on the hilt of her sword. It takes a prompt from Madam Kaji to get her moving again. Face snapping into its usual scowl, she turns and stalks away, leaving Kaji to try and match Mizu’s longer stride in the confines of her kimono.

~

“So, pretty apprentice, what can we do?” Asks the one in green, her dark eyes sparkling as they flick to the money bag still clutched in your hand. “How can we serve your pleasure?”

As attached to Mizu as you are, you’ve never been flirted with by a woman before, and you can’t help the blush. But even that isn’t enough to distract you from the melancholy of being left behind like a pet yet again. Waiting in the cold for hours on the bridge to Shindo Dojo, left in town with Ringo in Mihonoseki, watching her leave with Taigen down that narrow chasm… You shake your head, mouth twisting in tandem with your guts. What if Mizu never comes back? You know the trick she played on Ringo; you giggled about it at the time, you recall guiltily. But you can’t track like he can, even if you’re faster than him. And if she leaves you alone for something like this, what is she planning for the actual attack on Fowler? Maybe you really are just a burden she can't figure out how to shake…

“Why so sad?” The one in gold asks, her sympathy syrupy-sweet. She puts a hand on your arm, but you shift away.

“I'm sorry,” You say, distractedly. You aren't watching your tone as well as you should be. “I would rather be alone. Thank you.”

Silence. They don't move to leave, nor do they try to further convince you. You look up from your despair after a moment, becoming aware of their lack of response.

They're both staring. Studying you. Then they look at each other.

Before you can parse why, the gold-clad girl suddenly lunges forward, catching you by the chin and jerking your chin up, staring at your neck. Your smooth, Adam's-apple-less throat.

“Hey!” You yelp, knocking her hand away; she lets you go readily, already smiling with a distinctly cat-got-the-cream air.

“So that's it,” she says, smugly. “I suspected as much.”

“Is it…?” The other asks fascinatedly. Your eyes dart between them, confused, forboding building in your gut.

“Definitely,” says the first. They both turn to you, looking amused and intrigued.

“Playing dress-up, girl?” Asks Green, smiling archly.

Oh….oh no.

You go cold. “I…I don't know what you…”

“Re-lax. You think you're the first to put on men’s clothing in here? Didn't you see the little show we put on for you?” Gold waves a hand dismissively, talking out over top of you.

“It happens all the time. So, what does your man want? To pretend you're a boy? A new flavor to try? Or some training for you?” Green cuts in, raking her eyes over you. “Is he selling you?”

“He’s–…not–...my man,” you stumble. How to even explain that tangle? Clearly they believe Mizu's disguise, if not yours. You're not about to spill any of those beans, more than you need to. “And I would never stay here.” You pause, suddenly hearing yourself, and bow apologetically. An aching heart is no reason to be rude. “Not that I mean to degrade your work. I'm sorry.”

Both women look at each other, then start to laugh. Clearly they've heard worse.

“Then why do you look so sad?” Asks Gold once her laughter has passed, and this time she sounds almost genuinely interested. She pets your hair, gentle, like an older sibling. “Come on, girl, you can tell us.”

You should just tell them to go. But the room is quiet, and warm, and clean, after months of shacks and forest camping and inns full of leering men. And gods… you're so tired. To unburden yourself to someone would be such a relief. You haven't ever been able to talk about these confusing feelings; the only confidant that you have is Ringo, and you do not trust him with that kind of conversational grenade.

Discretion is the whole point of this place right? There are far worse secrets that they must keep.

Green leans against your shoulder, and this time it feels less sensual, and more like a friendly touch. You're surprised by how it loosens a knot in your chest that you hadn't recognized until now. When was the last time you were hugged?

You sigh. “It’s a long story…”

~

As it turns out, it's a long enough story to require two pots of tea–and then a relocation, as the girls drag you back to the dressing room to re-tell all the juicy details to the rest of the girls.

It's…therapeutic, to bare your heart to a group of open-minded, half-drunk women. They’re clearly connoisseurs of gossip, and they make extremely good listeners; gasping in all the right parts. You can't help but enjoy it a little, finally just venting it all out, lounging with the ever-shifting number of girls as sake replaces the tea. Girls come and go from the room as they head to various clients, but except for one they call “new girl”, who keeps her face turned away from you, they all come over to listen for a while.

(As you're surrounded by girls, slowly explaining the tangled story of your time with Mizu, Mizu returns from her walk with Kaji to find the room empty of you.

She pauses, surprised by her own disappointment. She can't admit it to herself, but she had expected you to have shaken off the girls and be waiting for her. You're always there when she comes back. Something burns in the pit of her stomach to find you gone; after the heavy deal she just made, she has need of the comfort you bring her–not that she'd admit that to herself, either. The images of you, somewhere in the brothel at this moment, half-dressed and flustered, makes her stomach flip. But then she imagines you under some faceless nude woman and her throat tightens. She sits down with a thump in front of the mirror and removes her glasses, studying her own face critically. It must be nice for you to be seeing pretty women for once, instead of her…)

“But why him?” One finally asks, wrinkling her nose, as you pause for breath. She's in a pink kimono–you think the others might have called her Ise. “You're a pretty girl, even in disguise. You could do better. He's hardly a looker.”

Your head snaps up, frowning in offense. The girls giggle at your suddenly icy glare, all warning Ise to duck, and Ise dramatically throws her hands up in front of her defensively. “Alright, alright, don't get your sword in a knot. I'm just saying…”

A couple girls nod in agreement. “Those eyes…” one murmurs. The white-haired girl in the corner turns to glare at her as a few others titter.

“Like a demon,” another says with a shudder.

Your fingers clench against your thighs, brow darkening. “I think they're beautiful.” Your voice is quiet, but hard as stone; the girls all fall silent, looking at each other uncertainly. There's a world of emotion in your heavy tone; a sincerity that they know, better than most, is rare and precious.

It’s Ise that smiles, slowly, with a dark, wicked gleam in her eye. “Do you want an answer?” She asks you bluntly, making you forget your anger in confusion.

“To whether he wants you,” she clarifies with a sigh.

You hesitate. Do you? If the answer is no… gods, that will hurt. And you know in your heart that you won't stop holding out hope, even then. You'll stay. You'll keep loving her. So does it matter?

But what if the answer is yes?

Slowly, wordlessly, you nod, stomach clenching. Ise smiles wider, and reaches for your topknot. “I know a method that never fails.”

~

Mizu looks up when you slide the panel open a crack, brow plunged in a deep scowl.

“I said I didn't–...Oh.”

You duck your head, wordlessly apologizing, even though you’re not even sure why. She only looks marginally less annoyed, watching you come in and sit down against the wall. Ringo is there, too, and he greets you brightly, looking rather pleased with himself. His kimono is slightly askew.

“Where have you been?” Her tone is sharp, her eyes sharper, as she takes in the tousled hair and haphazardly tied clothing on you. The girls had agonized over exactly how much to tousle you. That had honestly taken up the most time.

You shrug a little sulkily, keeping your eyes down. Part of you wants to abandon the idea, now that you've gotten snapped at–is it worth the risk of antagonizing her?--while part of you is still upset at getting left behind again. But the thought of Mizu picturing you doing… that…is making you blush yet again. Ise had explained what they were going to imply you did, which gave you a mind full of images that you know will probably haunt you worse than they haunt their intended target. What if Ise was messing with you? This is never going to work, you're already botching it by getting flustered.

In your mind, your avoidance is a dead giveaway that you're being shady…but to Mizu, the tousled appearance and shamefaced blush give exactly the impression Ise planned, and her fingers clench again, until the knuckles crack. Her lips tighten and thin, but she says nothing further, turning back to the mirror with a faint huff. Silence descends, but there’s a strange tension to the air that even Ringo notices. He glances between you two, gaining the worried expression that always makes you want to immediately reassure him.

“So, how much of my money did you spend?” Mizu abruptly spits at you, as though she's finally thought of an excuse to be angry. There's an unusual amount of venom behind her tone, harsh enough that Ringo’s eyes widen and he sits up a bit straighter, while you shrink in on yourself a bit. Wordlessly, still avoiding eye contact, you reach into your haori and pull out of the money pouch, tossing it to her.

She can tell as soon as she catches it that you haven't spent a single coin. “...Hm,” she says again, heat immediately bleeding out of her voice as her expression lightens. She surveys your disheveled appearance again, quirking an eyebrow.

“So why are you–” she starts, before there's another knock at the door. The panel slides open a crack as Mizu heaves a loud sigh of exasperation, her eyes rolling.

But before she can reiterate yet again to leave her alone, two girls’ heads poke in, and they aren't looking in her direction. They're whispering and giggling, completely unprofessionally, nudging each other, and staring at you.

“That's him,” one points.

“No! Is it really…?” The other gasps.

Both Mizu and Ringo turn to look at you, mirrored looks of confusion on their faces. Your expression is that of a dog facing down a speeding horse cart, unable to move, wide eyed. You regret agreeing to this; you want to sink into the tatami.

Their next whispers turn all three of you into statues.

“Ise says she finished three times…”

“Didn't even charge him…”

“He never even undressed–”

Ringo’s eyes and mouth all drop wide open, looking avidly between you and the door. Mizu is… frozen. Her face has taken on that blank expression that you've learned has all the safety of a rumbling mountainside. You don't dare shift an inch, but you can't help but stare at her. Your eyes slide from her stricken face to her hands; they're slowly curling into fists. Is it… working?

More giggling from the hallway, and something thumps the panel. It sounds like there are more girls gathering in the hallway. Another head pokes in, gets pushed back, and more sounds of muffled tussling leaks into the room. It sounds like most of the girls in the teahouse are having a little too much fun with this; they're probably thrilled to get to act out a little.

“Don’t shove–”

“Let me see! I want a turn–”

“... haven't had an orgasm like that in forever–”

“I can't wait to have a good scream–”

Oh gods above. Your face is crimson. You should have expected that they would go straight to vulgarity. Ringo chuckles with surprised and impressed delight, thumping you on the shoulder with one wrist like a comrade. This is so embarrassing.

One of the girls, braver than the rest, managing to wrestle the others back, calls out, “Mr. Samurai, can we borrow your apprentice?” This produces an absolute cascade of giggles and more heads poke into the door again.

“Yeah, me next!”

“Only after me!”

“You don't need him tonight, right, Mr. Samurai?”

“We promise not to break him–”

Mizu finally moves, moving towards the door with a speed that actually makes your heart clench with fear for the prostitutes. They all fall back, a chorus of shrieks and yelps echoing in the hallway as she almost seems to abruptly materialize in front of them.

“We're busy.”

Oh.

Her voice is so frozen with fury that it's a miracle she doesn't breathe out icy smoke. It’s a tone you've only heard a handful of times, always followed by blood spattering across snow. You can feel that familiar twisting ache of mingled fear and arousal in your core that you've grown to associate with Mizu at her most deadly. But this time it's complicated by a second layer of blending; uncertainty–is she just irritated by these twittering women?--and hope, delicate, frail, slowly blossoming.

Is she…jealous?

She slams the panel closed hard enough that there's an ominous wood crunching noise.

Silence falls. You watch Mizu, warily, as she stands at the door, her fingers still white-knuckling the edge of the panel.

“Wow, what did you do?” Ringo demands. You turn to look at him, startled. You were so focused on Mizu's reactions that you almost forgot he was a second witness. “How does that even work?”

“U-uh…I…” Oh gods, what do you say? You didn't actually do anything! Your idea of arousing is Mizu standing over you after a spar, the tip of her sheathed sword digging into your throat, an icy, smug satisfaction in her eyes. What do normal women find titillating?

“Come on, you gotta tell me. I wanna get with prostitutes for free, too!” Ringo gives you puppy eyes. “How'd you do it without them finding out… you know.” He gestures at your clothing. “Was it your hands? Is that the secret?” He asks, holding up his wrists and looking at them worriedly, as though hoping that that isn't the answer. “Wait–” he squints at you. “Where did you even learn to do anything like that anyway–”

“No more questions.” Comes the snarl from the door.

You glance away from Ringo to Mizu.

She's still got her back to the room. Her shoulders are drawing up in a hard hunch, free hand clenching tight again. The rumbling from the mountain is getting louder. You're not sure whether you should be exulting that she actually seems bothered, or be worried about the upcoming danger if she pops. She's not usually the type to explode, but when she does…

You both fall silent, watching as her shoulders heave in one deep, steadying sigh, before she finally turns around. Her face is composed, back to its usual resting glare, and you feel a bit let down. Maybe she just found it all annoying. All that, for no real answers…

Ringo stays quiet long enough for Mizu to return to her seated position by the mirror, but you can see him fidgeting. Before long, he leans over closer to you. His voice is hushed, trying to be discreet. For Ringo.

“So was it a tongue thing, or–”

THUNK. Mizu’s fist strikes the lap table hard, hard enough to upset the elegant centerpiece. You both jump and turn to look at her, freezing in place.

“If you want to know so badly, go ask them yourself.” Every syllable burns, blue eyes blazing.

Ringo, undeterred as ever, leaps to his feet. “I will!” He chirps, padding quickly over to the door. There, he pauses, bowing to Mizu. “Thank you for the permission, Master.”

Mizu watches him leave, her glare never wavering. After the door shuts, she snaps her gaze back to you. Your heart beats a little faster, as ever, feeling that little tingle that comes with getting her focused attention.

“You.” She jabs a finger at you; you flinch. “You. Don't. Leave this room again tonight. And nobody but Ringo comes in. Got it?”

Oh gods, she's jealous, she has to be, she's actually–

Now probably isn't the time to be cheeky and point out that she didn't put herself on that list. You nod. You've never been so happy to be glared at before. She wants me here. With her.

“Of course,” you say. “That's fine.”

Her glare softens at your voice.

You can see the way her eyes flick to your mouth as you form the words, and your heart flutters again. It's real, it must be, oh gods above– no way that this is happening, no way– You open your mouth again, unsure what else to say, but wanting to reassure her, to tell her that here is the only place you want to be. But before you can do that, there's a knock at the door again.

Mizu’s eyes blaze. She actually growls this time, turning towards the door with the feral speed of the truly enraged.

“I said we're busy,” she snarls, whipping the door panel open hard enough that it rattles the entire wall.

You see her freeze, as a soft, delicate voice rings through the room. “May I serve you?”

A pit suddenly opens in your stomach at the absolute stillness in Mizu’s posture. Even from behind you can tell she's staring at the girl’s face. The voice is so pure, so sweetly feminine that you can picture the kind of face it must belong to; a perfect doll, sparkling eyes, symmetrical features, neat teeth behind full, petal-soft lips. No blemishes, no scars, no days of sweat and greasy hair after too long on the road. Your heart twists; finally, finally Kaji has found someone perfect enough to take even Mizu’s breath away, and your chance with her is gone.

Is this how your little trick made her feel? This pain in your chest must be karma come knocking. The second you're away from this brothel, you’re coming clean; you can always say they just wanted to prank her. But you won't leave her believing it truly happened. No more of this back-and-forth of jealousy–if it ever was that on her end.

But then maybe she won't care by then. And I would deserve that. This pain is wrong, it was wrong to bait her because you were too cowardly to be honest about your feelings. She may have given you moments of jealousy before but they were never intentional. And now–

Mizu takes a step away, turning away from the girl towards you as she walks back to her previous seat. Her expression makes you pause on your internal journey of self-pity. It isn't lovestruck, or lustful. Not a flicker of a blush; she's all business. Her eyes seek yours out, a split-second look that you know all too well. The look that comes with a new, unexpected layer of trouble.

Your eyes flick towards the girl, now revealed as she steps into the room. She's as lovely as her voice would have suggested, tiny, exquisitely made up. But it's not your accurate prediction of her perfection that makes you freeze just as Mizu had. It's that you know her, from that bridge in Kyoto. As before, your every memory of that trip is seared in.

You don't dare try to catch Mizu’s eye again; this might be a problem, but for the moment, the girl clearly doesn't realize her hand has been revealed.

Just like that, the jealousy and pining take a backseat, as they so often have on this shared journey. Once again, you and Mizu are a united front, dealing with a new threat.

And through the chaos that quickly devolves around you, clarity comes to you. You didn't need to play this charade. All this time, all the worrying about who feels what, when that look Mizu shot you a moment ago says it all. In the moment where things got serious, upset with you or not, she trusted you to understand immediately. In the moment of trouble, she looked towards you.

–

When she comes back from her mysterious task, you're waiting in the hallway, too restless to stand Ringo’s chatter and Akemi’s sniping. Akemi had heard it all, of course, in the women’s dressing room, and she wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to needle you, since she couldn't seem to needle Mizu effectively. You don't doubt she'll blurt the whole sorry tale out to Mizu at her first opportunity, and standing in the dark in the hall leaves you with little to do but fret about that.

It hasn't been as long as you would have expected, when she comes back.

You look up at the quiet footfall, and pause, heart clenching at the sight of her face in the shadowy hall. Mizu pauses, too, stopping a little distance away from you, as if afraid to get too close. She's carrying her hat under her arm, and her face looks…gods. You've seen her furious, cold, exhausted, conflicted, even amused.

This is something else, something worse than anything you've ever seen. She looks bereft, hollowed out, her eyes staring ahead as though looking at some horror no one else can see.

In that moment, you move without thought of rejection. Something in her face just calls to you, more deeply than words, drawing you together like magnets.

You push off the wall and step up to meet her.

“Mizu…?” You keep your voice as soft as you can. She doesn't raise her eyes. Instead, you can see the lids lower until they fall shut.

Slowly, you reach up to cup her face; you expect her to push your hand away, but you would have tried anyway. It’s your heart reaching out to touch hers in the only way you can, and it cannot be suppressed. In this moment, even though it's the closest you've ever been, you're not thinking about wanting her, only wanting to soothe her. Strange that your first moment of deeper intimacy should come from this clear pain, surrounded by the trappings of lust itself.

She doesn't fight you. When you bring your hands to the sides of her head, slowly pulling the glasses away, she lets you guide her face down to you, until her head is resting heavily against your shoulder. Her arms remain at her sides, hanging limp. When your hands cradle her head, her hair, she shudders violently for a second with a little choke, remembering the way she cradled another head, and then subsides.

You stand that way for a long time, in utter silence, utter stillness. The only movement is a very faint shivering that suffuses her frame. She's breathing slowly, with an exaggerated evenness as though deliberately forcing herself to do so. Your mind is racing; what on earth could have produced such a response?

Mizu… what did you do.

You already know you aren't going to ask, and make her relive it. Maybe someday, if she wants to unburden herself… but it doesn't matter now. It doesn't really matter at all; you know there's very little you wouldn't forgive her for. And you could see the regret in her eyes, that no matter what heinousness produced this, she feels no peace in the aftermath.

“It was a girl.” You can barely hear her.

“What?”

“I killed a girl tonight.”

Your heart constricts at her quiet voice. She says it tonelessly, unemotional, but you can feel her shoulders tensing under your hands. To her, this is the moment; you, seeing the monster that she is, pulling away, refusing further comfort.

“A girl?”

A faint shift of her head against your shoulder that might be a nod. A chill runs through you; she feels your shudder and braces for the shove, the exclamation of horror.

“Was it…necessary?” You ask slowly, instead, trying to understand. You've never known Mizu to kill an innocent before. There must have been a reason.

You can feel the way the question strikes her, unexpected. When was the last time anyone asked her about why she does what she does?

“...I don't know,” she says bleakly, her voice cracking.

Another long silence; the shoulders grow even more tense. She almost seems to stop breathing. You turn your face to her hair, silently, and feel her body go loose again. There's nothing you can say to fix this; only offer your steady presence.

“... Thank you.” This time the voice has a hoarse, shaky edge. You make a questioning noise, your fingers stilling. You hadn’t realized you'd been stroking her hair.

“For not…pulling away.” Her voice is growing quieter and quieter with each word; she turns her face harder into your shoulder, as though she can hide her vulnerability along with her face. “For not… thinking ill of me.”

“Never.” Your whisper is vehement, your fingers tightening against the back of her head.

“You should.”

You pause; the contrast of her gratitude and disapproval flummoxes you for a moment. You have no recourse but to be honest.

“I knew what this path would be when I chose to follow. I will not reject you for following your ember.”

You're shocked to hear a faint sniffle before she straightens, and even more shocked to feel wetness cooling on your shoulder. She hadn’t made a single sound of weeping; not a sob, not a hitch of breath. You saw no tear slide down her face.

Her expression is a different story; as stoic as ever but for those red-rimmed, haunted eyes. She’s still staring into the middle distance, unfocused. At the sight of her, your resolve snaps; you blurt it out. You can't fix this pain killing her inside now; you can only right the wrong you had done earlier.

“It didn't happen.”

“Mm…?” she looks at you, finally, but it's as if she is seeing someone else.

“The… the girls,” you stumble on your words for a moment. You want to be honest about what happened, but now doesn’t feel like the time to confess love, not when she's so wreathed in this empty sadness. You settle on, “I didn't do anything with them.”

She blinks, starts to focus a tiny bit. “Then they-…and you never…”

You shake your head.

She blinks, then blinks again. She doesn't look immediately relieved, at least not straightforwardly, but she looks strangely more alert. It's as if the weight on her shoulders was heavier, but it was a weight she was more willing to tolerate. Her brow pinches as she seems to think of something.

“I'm…sorry you had to look through those holes,” she says finally, staring down at your feet. Her voice is soft, barely above a breath. “You're… not meant to see all of this.”

“It wasn't so bad,” you reassure her. “I can handle it.”

She shakes her head impatiently.

“This isn't how you should be seeing…I'm…supposed to–…” She stops, looking confused by her own words. You stare at her in surprise. Supposed to what? Protect me? That would be a departure indeed from her constant insistence that you are here of your own free will, that she isn't responsible for you, that she isn't your protector… and so on.

You laugh a little, warmly. It's not funny, any of this, but there's a tiny bubble of something warm glowing in your chest, something that feels as though it's solidified between you, and the icy wall of uncertainty that plagues your every step has begun to trickle away.

“I can protect myself now, thanks to you,” you murmur, ducking your head a little to try to meet her gaze as she hangs her head. The next words are hard to say, but you want her to hear them. “And, truly…I don't think there's a better place in all of Japan than next to you.”

She looks up at you, eyebrows quirking up in surprise; it's the last sentiment she would expect to hear from anyone right now. The eye contact in this moment is lightning-sharp; a myriad of emotions run through her gaze, her face twitching through what looks like guilt, shame… and then a deeper, aching longing. The potency is as intense as every other emotion in her, and it arrests your very breathing.

You know. In that moment, you know; the trickle becomes a meltwater flood, soaking warmth through your ribcage. You’re pulled into the undertow of ocean eyes that glow in the cocooning darkness.

Her lips press together tightly as her eyes flick to your mouth as they did once, hours so. She looks suddenly lost; too emotionally overwhelmed by the events of the night to keep her walls up any longer. Distraction, validation, reassurance… human weaknesses she normally scoffs at. Tonight, her last rest before Fowler, before possible death, she'll let herself be human. She will seek comfort from someone that will touch her like she isn't a monster, confirm to herself that she can be capable of love, softness. That after her revenge, a happy life could be possible for her.

“I'm glad–...” her voice hitches as she leans closer to you, then sways back again, uncertainly. In the dark, her blush doesn't show, but the flustered expression is enough to make your heart suddenly race. “I'm glad that… you didn't. With them.”

You can't breathe. Your heart is in your throat; its rabbiting beat is making you shake so strongly with adrenaline that you have to force your teeth not to chatter. You've been waiting for so long, with never the slightest inkling of hope…

“...I am, too.” In the intimate darkness surrounding you, your whisper feels loud. Her gaze focuses in like a beam of burning light; your own expression says everything.

This time she steps closer again without flinching, and you feel like you might pass out. The hesitant look flickers across her again for a moment, before her brow suddenly furrows. You have a half second to recognize the familiar look of determination that precedes every risky move before there's a long fingered hand curling around your nape, and a pair of thin, sculpted lips on yours.

Oh.

It's as though every muscle in your body melts away in an instant. The second you lean into it with enthusiasm, you’re enveloped; her arms are like iron, clutching you tight. It's every bit as mind-numbing as you had fantasized; the taste of her lips is tea and copper, blood-hot as her tongue slips against yours. Mizu does nothing halfway. She kisses like she fights; overpowering, ruthless, clever and swift. Every twitch of reaction is caught and dragged free of you again and again as that famous adaptability is turned on you and achieving your pleasure. Her hands roam restlessly, mapping over the lines of your body, prompting a squeak when they suddenly squeeze tight, nails dimpling your flesh, before sliding on. You hope that every time her fingers sink in, there's a mark you'll see tomorrow, until she's littered every inch of your skin.

Your mingled breaths are loud in the silence of the hall. Your own hands are in her hair, slipping down her neck, reveling in the shift of the muscles in her shoulders; you can touch her now, you can touch her, she's kissing you, she wants you, gods above–

“Mizu…” You can't stop the soft whine, muffled by her lips; it thrills you to feel her shudder in response to it, her arms tightening around you with a hushed groan. The hand at the back of your neck grasps a hank of your hair like a handle, tugging your head to the side with accidental roughness. The pain sparks like flint against the heat building between your thighs, flaring it to a roar. Your little hiss is choked off by a gasp as she buries her face in your neck and inhales you, deep and greedy, indulging herself, before biting down hard on the soft skin below your ear.

Your grip on her shoulders tightens with a bitten-back cry, lust shooting through you like a grassfire. It runs molten between your thighs, softening your legs until your knees buckle–swift as an arrow, your world spins.

Your spine thumps into the support beam, her front molded to yours as she pins you against it; you can feel her heartbeat pattering against her bindings, the sharpness of her hipbones against your belly. Everything in your body pulses with one hard beat of desire; it thuds from your throat to your fingertips every time you hear that harsh inhale of her panting through her nose between kisses, the soft grunts of response to each slide of tongue and teeth. You don't notice your haori part until cool fingers slip along your ribcage. You flinch with a gasp, your back arching wanton and shameless into the touch. The husky chuckle at your ear makes your core throb so hard it hurts.

Your thighs tangle together without a care to your surroundings. “Ngh–” Another desperate, muffled groan vibrates against the side of your throat when you press your leg up between hers. Her hips spasm and buck, her groan fracturing into something soft and needy–“ah-...ahh”--breath puffing faster over your skin; there's a searing softness pressing against your thigh, already damp through the thick fabric of her pants. In response, the lean muscle of her own leg presses up between yours, hiking you higher against the wall until you’re spread across it, your own weight bearing you down against it with a cruel pressure to the very source of your ache. As you’re yanking her hair free with a high-pitched moan of her name–

The soft sssh-thnk of a door panel makes you both freeze.

“Master? Are you out here? I heard–...oh.”

Mizu slowly raises her head from your neck as you turn your head. Is this how you die? Of embarrassment?

Ringo’s eyes are like saucers; behind him, the faint sound of Akemi protesting spills out into the hallway as the three of you stare at each other in silence. “What? What is it? Ringo? Hey! Untie me! Let me see!”

Ringo opens his mouth, then closes it again. A wide, delighted grin slowly spreads over his face. Without another word, he slowly leans back into the room, shutting the panel behind him.

You both stare at the door for a minute. Akemi's complaints can still be heard from inside. Then you look at each other.

You giggle first, trying to stifle it, horrified at yourself as it bubbles free. “Sorry, s-sorry–” you hiss, more giggles escaping you, edged almost hysterical. It's not funny, at all, but you can't seem to stop.

Mizu watches you, perplexed at first, her mouth twitching as though she's not sure whether she should be laughing with you, or not. Finally she just sighs, too exhausted to give a damn, leaning her head on your shoulder again. This time you don't hesitate to wrap your arms around her, nuzzling into her hair as her own arms curl around you tightly.

It's not okay, nothing is okay, but, this… this is good.

Into the silence, a woman screams.

mark grayson & fem!reader, MDNI cw. unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy

"ow, ow, ow." you whined.

"sorry." mark whispered, loosening his grip on the fat of your waist. "sorry."

"s'okay." you hummed, shifting on top of his lap. the second you moved, he was gripping you again, hissing as his fingers dug into you painfully. "mark!"

"i'm sorry!" he said hurriedly, snatching his hands from your body completely and curling them in fists at his side. "maybe this was a mistake."

the mistake? letting him fuck raw. it started as a joke, like "oh baby, i love you so much i wish i could get rid of this thing keeping me away from you," as if it wasn't just a flimsy barrier of latex, so thin, but apparently enough to create a distance for him.

he laughed when he said it, like it was a far fetched idea that would never come to pass. but nothing is off limits with you. not where he's concerned.

naturally, he did not expect you to agree. couldn't stop the rush of blood to his dick when you said, "you can get rid of it, as long as you pull out."

those were magic words if he's ever heard any, and who was he to reject the gift you've given him?

"just..." his breath caught in his throat, groaning involuntarily when your nails scratched the back of his neck. "stay still."

"mark," you whine. "i don't have super strong legs like you do."

he was on his back. you straddled him, legs folded in a squat so low that your heels poked just underneath your ass. you tried your hardest not to sink down on him completely. he was barely halfway inside your pussy when he begged you to stop with an urgency. but it was getting harder and harder now that you could feel every groove and vein of his cock twitching inside your walls.

your hand curled around the base of his neck while the other clung to his broad shoulders, the sweat of his skin making your palms all clammy.

you pouted, huffing impatiently. "you were the one that wanted this."

"i know, baby." he hummed hoarsely. he looked like a virgin, all tense underneath your naked body. besides his curled fists, his head was thrown back and his eyes were closed. "but i'm gonna cum if you move."

you blinked down at him, fighting the urge to laugh and failing. "seriously?"

his body heats up at the sound and he peeks open one eye, brows furrowed in offense. "don't laugh."

"it's kinda funny." you hum and lean down. "kinda cute."

mark catches the way your eyes were lidded, the way you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to stop your sweet giggles. the swell of your tits, hard nipples pressing against his chest, your hair brushing against his skin as you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth—

"fuck," his hips bucked up, jolting you in his lap. you squeaked as your hips were finally seated flush against him with a wet plap! you tumbled against him, face planted into the crook of his neck.

fully sheathed in your gummy walls, mark thinks he's found heaven. you were so warm, so wet, so soft. and squeezing the life out of him—he was this close to getting you pregnant, he could feel it.

the satisfied moan that leaves your lips almost made him feel bad. but for the sake of your future, he had to take extra caution.

"okay, wait." mark inhaled a shaky breath before gripping your arms, pushing you up and away from his face. a shiver snakes its way down your spine at how easily he manhandles you, keeping your torso upright above him. he has to physically turn his head to stop his eyes from trailing along the delicious arch in your back. "don't move. i'm gonna—" he starts to pull his hips back ever so carefully. "slowly—"

"mm..." your thighs press tight around his hips, pussy tightening around him like it was begging him not to leave, to stay warm and deep inside your pretty little cunt.

"fuck—babe," he whined, brown eyes pleading as they gazed up at you. "you're not helping."

mark was gripping you way too hard again, his hips stuttering in place. you were squirming in his lap, grinding against him and he grunts, eyes screwing shut.

"mmf, m'sorry, you just feel sooo good." your eyes flutter, whimpering breathily when your aching hole was finally, finally getting the attention it needed. not enough, but still better than nothing. "we need to do this more often..."

the fact he was doing this at all coupled with the thought of doing this a second time made his head spin.

"i seriously wasn't—ah—kidding before." he choked on his words when he felt your glossy pussy clench around him, spilling slick around his pulsing red tip.

think about anything else, he begs himself. there was a new issue of seance dog coming out soon. oh, and a collectible. did he have enough money for that? holy shit, he could hear the smack of your ass against his thighs loud and clear.

his eyes flickered to your face, twisted with pleasure. you were so pretty. he loves you. he wants to grow old and retire with you. leave this fucked up hero thing behind someday. how many more times will he get to lose himself in your soft skin, body rolls, and perfect tight pussy before he kicks the bucket? he could've died happy even after the first time with you.

"y/n—"

"cum inside," you demand, brows furrowed in exertion from holding back. you wanted him to fuck you like he meant it, like how he usually does.

mark's heart lurches in his chest, his cock twitching inside you that pulls a string of moans from your pretty lips. his cheeks heat up. "y-you don't mean that." you couldn't mean that. "you said—"

"forget what i said." your head hung loose above him, upper body still suspended in the air. "cum inside." your voice was pleading, a near sob as you begged for him. "please?"

mark never told his girl no and he wasn't going to start now.

he brought you down against his chest, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. cradling you close as he pistons his hips deep inside your cunt. "yeah," he grunted, shifting his hips to get some better leverage, slamming up into you without any inhibition. "you're so fucking hot, god, you feel so good—"

all you could offer him was a strangled moan, feeling him in your stomach, chest, throat.

"fuck. i love you," he whined so sweetly, hugging you close and sinking his teeth down onto your shoulder. "m'gonna cum, but i'll make it up to you, baby, promise—"

within the next second, you felt his body tense. his grip on your ass was bruising, heavy balls tightening and spilling hot strings of cum deep inside you. his cock was coated with his own release, a milky white ring collecting at his base. you moaned softly against his skin, feeling warm and full, satisfied with the way he panted in your ear.

he didn't bother to pull out. he pumped into you slowly, fucking his cum deep inside. if he was gonna do it, might as well do it right.

then he rolled you over, laying you delicately against the sheets with a breathy chuckle, like he'd just won the jackpot. he brushed some hair out of your face and kissed your forehead.

"you're right, we do need to do this more often." he hummed, pinning your wrists beside your head and intertwining your fingers. "now, how do you want me?"

© invoncible

Who Let Gojo Have A Baby Carrier

Contains: Getou x Satoru, baby reader, gender-neutral reader, spoilers for the anime, might expand these into headcanons, not proofread

-

Episode 2 - Megumi although wouldn’t openly admit his trust in Gojo’s abilities to keep you safe and unharmed, that doesn’t mean he’ll let the dumbass fight Sukuna with you in a baby carrier strapped to his chest. “If you don’t give (Name) to me, I will call Getou.” He threatened and Satoru waited no time doing just so not before calling him a big meany. Unfortunately, Satoru had made the mistake of sending Suguru a photo of Megumi ruffled up when he had sent them to the second year.

~

Episode 3 - Nobara’s first impression of her new teacher was anything but good. So to see him with an adorable baby dressed in bright-colored clothing in his arms, she had to assume he was just babysitting because there was no way he was responsible for such cuteness. She even noticed Megumi giving Satoru the stink eyes which confirmed her thoughts. Especially, when the man had lied about taking them to Roppongi and instead to a rundown building with a curse in it. “First, you lied! Then you bring someone else’s baby to such a dangerous place! What’s wrong with you!”

Satoru pouted, “I’ll have you know this baby is my munchkin, I’ll be out here while you and Yuji will be dealing with the cursed spirit!” While placing you in the baby carrier facing him and gently rubbing a single knuckle against your cheek.

~

Episode 7 - Jojo assumed Gojo was foolish to face him head-on. Sure, Gojo had come out unscathed from his first attack but he wasn't to see you, an infant, strapped to the man’s back also unharmed. You had let out a couple of coughs followed by a whimper prompting Gojo to turn his attention to you. “Oh! Give me a moment,” Jojo was annoyed how unbothers Gojo was and had to watch as the man readjusted the strap so you comfortable resting on his chest.

Jojo tsked, he this was his prime opportunity and he was going to take it. Besides Kenjaku had informed him about how beneficial it would be to use you against Gojo and Getou. All it was for him was to figure out how to separate from the two of you or he could just kill you both. “Ember Insects!”

“Well, that's not very nice.”

~

Added Bonus: Ijichi may fear Gojo, but he tends to forget how Getou can be way scarier because not only was Gojo late, he was supposed to arrive with Gojo Satoru especially when he had you with him for a meeting with Principal Yaga and Getou, but he had allowed the both of you to exit the vehicle a random location for unknown reasons.

Choso x fem!reader

cw: smut

You are currently laying on your stomach, exhausted from the hours spent love making with your boyfriend. Your head is resting on the pillow and you’re hugging it, your eyes closed as you breathe softly. The air smells like sex, but you revel in it, reminding you of the love you share with your boyfriend.

Choso is propped up on a elbow while he looks down at you with a little contented smile gracing his lips, tenderly tracing patterns on your back. You let out a soft sigh at the feeling, relaxing further under his touch. You shift slightly in bed when you feel your boyfriend’s cum slowly oozing out your hole and you clench your thighs together. Your body is sore, but it’s a delicious pain reminding you of what you just finished to do with your lover.

“Baby…,” your boyfriend whines softly, glancing at your legs’ movement before leaning down to place soft kisses on your temple and side of the face. “Mmh,” you answer, eyes still closed and smiling when you feel choso’s lips on your skin.

His hands go lower, caressing the outline of your asscheeks and the back of your thighs. There is a lovestruck look in his half lidded eyes as he looks down at you, and his lips are swollen from all the kisses you shared. “One more time, please?,” He asks softly against your skin, moving his hand to stroke away your hair from your face and look down at you with tender eyes.

You let out a groan mixed with a chuckle and turn your head to the other side, playfully ignoring him. “I’m tired and sore, Cho,” you tell him, your voice muffled against the pillow. It’s followed by a little whine from your boyfriend and you feel him getting closer against your back.

“I know, i know… I’ll be soft, mh? Please, love,” he goes on, pressing soft kisses along your spine, his hand going back to caress the back of your thighs. You let out a soft hum at his words, and he knows that you’re giving him permission.

With that, he grips your hips and moves you on top of him, until you’re laying on his chest and your legs are on each side on his waist. Your face is buried against his neck, and you sigh softly when you feel him caress your thigh with one hand and guide his cock to your hole with the other.

“Mmh, Cho…,” you whine softly against his skin when his cock easily slips inside you, facilitated by both his cum and your juices spilling out of your hole. You arch your back and bite your lower lip as you raise your head from his neck to look down at your pretty boyfriend. He slowly thrust inside of you, dragging his cock against your walls which grips to him tightly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning up to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss. You moan when you taste his tongue, sucking it gently in your mouth. He keeps fucking his cock up inside of you, while his hands roam lazily across your back.

You pull back to breathe and rest your forehead against his, feeling your lips brushing against each other and your breaths mingling together. “I’m c-close, princess,” he moans after a few moments, squeezing his eyes shut as he brings his hands to grip your asscheeks and thrusting slightly harder into you. Both of you are still overstimulated from the previous session, and you already feel getting closer yourself.

“Fuck… yes, please, Cho,” you whine, reaching between your bodies to rub your clit, wanting to reach your orgasm with your boyfriend. He keeps drilling his cock inside you while moaning against your lips, until he stills and spurts his cum inside you. You come soon after, your walls spasming around him and milking him dry.

“O-ooh, god… fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs breathless, still thrusting mindlessly inside you, wanting to keep his cum nestled in your walls. You sigh and relax against him, burying your face against his neck and smiling softly. “I’m tired…,” you murmur against your skin and Choso smiles.

He caresses your back, gently sliding out of you as he leaves soft kisses against your temple. His cum oozes out of your hole in fat globes, and slides down over his soft cock. “I know, I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs between kisses, holding you tightly against him. In that moment, it’s like the world around you two doesn’t exist and the only important thing is you two, together.

(m.list)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ༘⋆ rizz? oh, you mean my autism?

★彡 synopsis: jjk boyfriends' ways of loving an autistic reader.

characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, choso kamo, toji fushiguro, hajime kashimo.

bella's note: my new year's resolution? to be way more self-indulgent!

.ᐟ.ᐟ KENTO 'QUIZ TIME' NANAMI

The first time it happened, Kento assumed you were way too focused on work to cook something before you were about to faint. The second time, maybe you were distracted. From then on, it was a pattern Kento couldn’t unsee.

Arms shaking as you cook. Changing the shower temperature when your skin is burning hot. Only washing your glasses when they are so dusty he could draw on them. Waking up on the middle of the night to use the bathroom.

You only listen to your needs when your body screams.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: “Do you need a drink?” — “Have you eaten anything? That doesn’t count.” — “Want me to close the curtains?” — “Come clean your glasses with me. I could clean yours, but you would need to clean mine. That’s what I thought.” — “Did you pay your bills this month?” — “Have you watched that movie you told me about?” — “Are you going to bed or I’ll have to start undressing? Oh, so now you hear me?”

.ᐟ.ᐟ CHOSO 'ACCIDENTAL MIME' KAMO

Choso would’ve never noticed if you hadn’t got mad at him. Mocking you? of course he was not! That’s so mean, Choso would never do that to someone he loves.

You have this habit. Of repeating words or phrases others use. Choso thought it was sweet. It showed that you were paying attention to every conversation. He started doing the same for you to know that he was listening, too.

Choso would’ve never understood if it wasn’t for Yuji. Echolalia. You weren’t doing it on purpose. It was automatic. What he saw as a habit was something you have no control over. When Choso started doing the same, you thought it was his way of saying “stop that, you’re bothering me.”

Once Choso explained himself, it was your turn to think it was a sweet habit.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to.” — “Choso, you’re very beautiful. Wait.” — “Can you shut up? Sorry.” — “Do you want to go out? I would love to.” — “Fuck that. Hey, Yuji, don’t use those words.” — “Babe? Yes?”

.ᐟ.ᐟ SUGURO 'SOCIAL CLUES TRANSLATOR' GETO

People, most often than not, will say things without actually saying them. The first time the meaning behind someone’s word were completely lost once they reached your ears, Suguru thought it was amusing. But then he understood some think it’s only logical to blame you for not getting what they chose not to say.

Arguing with someone unwilling to change their ways is pointless. If they don’t want to communicate with others, so be it. Suguru would pity them for wasting their chance of knowing you, but he prefers when you spend your time with him.

In important events, Suguru will tell you what to expect. Out with friends, he may warn you about someone not being very happy. Oh, the countless times Suguru was the one to explain that “no, honey, they didn’t mean it literally.”

Suguru would rather not being called tutorial mascot by his partner, but if you’re happy… so be it.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: “Hyperbole.” — “I think that was her polite way of spitting on his face. It gave me chills.” — “I also don’t know what he meant by that.” — “She’s definitely lying.” — “Not literally.” — “Shit. Satoru will ask me to give a speech. You will pretend to be sick? ... I love you.”

.ᐟ.ᐟ HAJIME 'TELL ME MORE' KASHIMO

Hajime WILL know about all your special interests. You have no say in this matter. He wants to know everything about you that there is to know. After all, what is love if not seeing the other and accepting them entirely?

He prefers to do it while he trains. Hajime will practice his techniques with your voice to sooth his muscles. Don’t matter what is on your mind, he wants to hear it all. A specific actress, some movie you saw, penguins? Lovely, keep going.

It's endearing the way you know so much about what you love. Makes Hajime want to ask you what you know about him. Just to check.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: "No, no. Please, keep going." — "And that was created when?" — "Your voice is enchanting." — "How did you discovered that?" — "I think, when I was young, I read a book that mentioned this." — "Talk to me. I want to listen."

.ᐟ.ᐟ TOJI 'HUMAN FURNACE' FUSHIGURO

Toji knows how to read someone. It's useful. If he can understand their desires and fears, then he knows what to expect. When it comes to you, what surprises Toji is that he uses this skill to help instead of getting something for himself.

He learned to read you. To understand what your body tells without the need to hearing it from you. Toji understands when something makes you upset, mad, uncomfortable. Even when you're drowning on your emotions and nothing else makes sense: Toji knows you.

And what he learned is that, to silence your mind from all those confusing thoughts, something bigger against you can be distracting enough. To be more exact, to have Toji against you. On his lap, between his arms, beneath him on the couch.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: "I'm warm? How sweet of you." — "Can you hear me now?" — "You feel like you can’t breath? I'll let you go when you get sure of that." — "How's your mind now? Too crowded?" — "Forget about them. Just look at me. That's right. It's you and me, nothing else matters."

.ᐟ.ᐟ SATORU 'DEFENSE ATTORNEY' GOJO

Has someone been harsh to you? A boss ignored your rights? A doctor diminished your requests and questions? You know who to call: Satoru Gojo, your beautiful, funny, interesting, inteligent, kind, considerate [50 adjectives later] boyfriend!

Satoru WILL fight anyone that tries to disrespect you. Don’t matter who, don’t matter why. He's ready to throw hands (or cursed energy, to specify). It can be your mom, he doesn’t care. No one messes with you.

But he also defends you in more pacific terms. He will give whole ass lessons to people that tried to argue with you. He will keep talking until they get it right. If someone tries to embarrass you, Satoru is embarrassing them. He doesn’t care about anyone. If they were able to make you uncomfortable, than they are able of dealing with some discomfort too.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: "Well, actually..." — "I understand what you're saying. Completely. But you're wrong and I will tell why exactly why." — "Say that again." — "You must think you are so funny." — "You think so? Ok, sit down. I'll explain it all to you."

© all rights reserved to MADWOMANSAPOLOGIST

“it’s not that bad, baby, can’t we just try again?”

virgin!satoru looks up at you from where his chin rests on your stomach, though you aren’t sure you can call him a virgin anymore. he holds your thighs apart, your sore pussy on sweet display for him. he presses a gentle kiss to your clit, which pulls a moan from you, but you stand strong.

“no way,” you shake your head. “absolutely fucking not. you’re… way too big.”

satoru grins, “thank you!”

“i’m not complimenting you, asshole,” you try and shift away from him, but gojo has your hips pressed into the mattress. “it hurts, toru. it’s too much.”

another kiss to your clit. “but she’s so needy for me,” he whines. “cant you see? so fucking wet… she can take me.”

“i can’t. it won’t fit.”

you didn’t think his pretty baby-blues could darken, but they do. satoru, your sweetheart, nips at your clit—only barely, but enough to make you gasp.

“you will,” he says, voice low. “i’ll make it fit.”

you can’t deny it, his tone only makes you even needier. you write under his grip, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips—he’s appraising you, studying his prey before bouncing. and he’s the virgin.

“oh, and after i fuck you, can we go get sushi?”

you blink at him. “what?”

“you know,” he scoots himself up and taps the head of his aching cock against your clit a few times. “to celebrate making it fit.”

#946C47 | SUN WUKONG.

genre | fluff

word count | 3738

warning | minor lewd thoughts from wukong / potential ooc + not accurate to jttw​

note | annoying monkey man i was forced to study back in middle school came back hot?

The ripe peach in front of you looked suspicious. Even though you thought yourself hungry enough to eat the fruit in one bite, you held back and raised a brow at the monkey sitting cross-legged in front of you instead. 

The river stream flowed like it had never seen disaster once, and perhaps the bed of clear water really hadn't. You wouldn't know until you figure out where you are, which has proven itself to be a difficult feat. You have prioritized coming to terms with the fact that you’ve been transported inside a fictional story above all else. 

Part of you wanted to say you were on Mount Huaguo because it was where you met Wukong, but the grouping of Bajie, Sanzhang, and Wujing told you otherwise. If you remember the tale you studied in high school, they should be on their trip to acquire scriptures. You have yet to figure out which of the 81 catastrophes they were facing, and you would like to stay in the dark about that, as figuring it out would mean you've been roped into one of them as well. 

To be fair, you might have accidentally become the 82nd catastrophe Wukong has to face by accidentally teleporting to his world. If helping a modern person return to their home was such a huge issue. 

You thought it must be, though, because the group had collectively decided to halt their significant journey so Wukong could focus on taking you to the celestial court, where you were more likely to find people who could bring you home. 

It was a huge sacrifice on his part, considering his interesting experiences with the likes of those associated with heaven. That much you understood, and you would thank him a million times and more if he was more serious about the concept of communication. Sometimes, trying to chat with him was like talking with a middle school kid who still finds fart jokes humorous.

"This is a regular peach," you said, your voice filled with doubt. 

“No, it’s a rock I changed into a peach. I want you to lose all your teeth!” Wukong exclaimed. He pushed his fingers at his upper lip to reveal his canines, but his grin faded when you responded with deadpan eyes. Retracting his hands, he blinked at you incredulously, the hair around his eyes swaying in disbelief over your distrust. Pulling a face at your seriousness, he nodded. "Yes. It is a regular peach."

"You picked it from a tree," you said. 

"Yes," he replied nonchalantly. 

"How come it took you so long?" 

“Peach trees don’t come for free. The closest one was far away.”

"I thought you were a fast monkey."

"I was taking a stroll through the forest."

He would do that. You told him you were hungry, and he had repeatedly made fun of your stomach growls. He knew you were starving for food—the kind of food you were used to eating, which was limited to the fruits growing on trees, and you wouldn't be surprised if he took his sweet time picking a single peach anyway. 

"Okay," you said as you picked the peach up and weighed it in your palm. It was useless. You never learned how much a real, good peach should weigh. "I'm not going to accidentally bite down on a clone."

"Oh, dear," he mused, putting a hand over his heart to feign disappointment. "That is most terrible! I would never do that to you!" 

“You have, for more times than I can count with both of my hands, shape-shifted into a rock just to watch me panic.”

"That I did! But the real issue is, you gullible one–“ he picked up his staff and playfully knocked the end against your head–“you fell for it more than ten times!”

You pursed your lips at his reaction. The trickster smile playing on his lips provided you no reassurance that he hadn't planned a prank to pull on you. At the same time, you realized the trick he was pulling may be paranoia, where you were the butt of the joke for believing he would waste a pluck of his hair just to watch you freak out over biting his clone.

Or perhaps the Wukong in front of you was the clone, and the real one was the peach in your hand.

"Wukong," you called softly, an exhausted exhale burning through your lips. "I'm really hungry."

He softened after a few seconds, his lips tightening into a thin line as he awkwardly looked away. 

You’ve fallen for his tricks multiple times despite knowing what kind of character he was. 

Him pushing you off tall cliffs just to catch you with the nimbus cloud; him turning himself into a rock so you’d think he had abandoned you in the middle of a forest full of monsters; jumping around trees and bursting through bushes like a maniac to scare you at night—repeatable pranks that overwhelmed you with fear and anger. 

You were too gullible was his accuse, but he knew more than anyone the problem was his tendency for trickery. You were never wrong for trusting him, and under particular circumstances, Wukong’s loyalty to you was engraved in his bones. It was evident in his ever-near presence and readiness to protect you from danger.

Otherwise, though, acting rather barbaric wasn’t a habit he could completely rid himself of. 

He didn't used to care at all about how you felt. Without Sanzhang here to tighten his gold fillet, he had been free to fool around at will until one incident when he accidentally dropped you in a cave that was the home to a wild yaoguai and ignored your panicked cries for help in an attempt to garner his sympathy.

You hadn't the energy to be mad at him after he saved you. He was used to your anger, your strengthless fists knocking at his chest, and a mouthful of empty threats he never took to heart. You didn’t do any of those that time, and neither could you move on from the corner you had scrambled toward after he hopped down to defeat the monster. 

Rigid like a stone and unresponsive as if you couldn't hear him, it didn't take Wukong long to realize you were in shock from almost being fatally attacked. 

He had to pick you up and carry you for the rest of the day. Your legs had been as weak as jelly, and all you did was cry to his shoulder, your arms curling around his neck as if he were a genuine savior. It hit him like an earthquake how small you were compared to himself—your muscles lacked confidence, and your movements were without skill.

You weren’t immortal; one mere strike would end you.

Wukong almost choked himself at the thought. His grip on your back and under your knees tightened to pull you closer to him. He didn’t apologize, but he swore on his many immortal lives that he would never pull any pranks on you again. 

Sanzhang has the tightening spell to stop the monkey king from fooling around. All you needed to carry was yourself. 

"Of course, you're hungry. You're such a picky eater," Wukong scolded as he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just a peach. I promise."

You squinted at his honest face, then leaned in to catch yourself in his eyes. he tensed up, his breath stopping in his nose and the hair on his neck standing abruptly upon the proximity. The contrast of a physiological response to extreme cold to the burning heat souring his veins was uncomfortable, not in a way that produced hatred but rather a reawakening. 

A reawakening that, within these past few months, on your journey together to get you the help you needed to return home, he has developed an attachment to you. 

“It's a normal peach! Take it or leave it!" 

You scoffed and leaned back, ignoring his attitude. Wukong pressed his palm to his jaw and rested his weight on it. His eyes darted away to avoid you, but once the shyness reduced from his body, they slowly returned to watch you admire the ripe peach in your hands.

"Boo!" he screamed when you bit the fruit. 

"Ah!" You flinched and dropped the fruit from your palm. A golden glow engulfed it before hitting the floor, stilling the fruit in the air. You clicked your tongue at the sight and perked up, your furrowed brows not at all intimidating. "Sun Wukong!" 

He laughed. The sound was boisterous as usual, enough to make the leaves roar and the crows fly. "You're such a scaredy cat!" 

"I'm–" you held back a denial–"I just didn't want to hurt your clone."

His laughter slowed to a final chuckle, and then he shrugged. It was a useless precaution, but he warmed at the fact that you even thought about it. "You can't hurt me." 

"Well, I don't intend to," you said after you caught the peach in your hands. You nodded at him. "Thank you for the food."

You began to admire the peach again, then you took a bite and marveled at its taste. Wukong snickered endearingly at how you acted like you've never had a good peach before. His heart rested easy as you devoured it whole, and he ignored how your lips glimmered beneath the coat of your saliva. 

Apparently, promises meant nothing to the monkey king because a few weeks or so after you took a bite of the peach, you two were taken to the celestial court for a crime. 

It took him so long to find a peach on a tree, which the forest was riddled with, was because it wasn't a regular peach you ate. It was an immortal peach. He went to steal it from the peach garden in heaven. 

“Have you any idea what you’ve done?”

"Good grief, you really are handsome."

"What?" Wukong's questioning voice snapped you out of your trance. 

You shook your head and blinked harshly to rid yourself of the embarrassment. You have just been notified that you were granted 3000 years of life because you ate a forbidden fruit from a place you didn't even believe in ten seconds ago, and all you could exclaim was that Erlang Shen has got to be the most attractive man you've ever seen, just as the stories described him as. 

His third eye was off-putting, though. It was not because you weren't used to seeing a person with an extra eye, but because you didn't like that he could see through you like transparent glass. You tried to focus on the bright side of it—he would know that you and Wukong were telling the truth, that you were not a fraud. 

"I'm sorry. I don't..." your breath hitched when you noticed the four heavenly kings staring at you. You wondered if they even heard your meek voice. Stepping back, you hid behind Wukong, shrinking your shoulders and lightly grasping his sleeve. "I don't know."

He glanced at your grip on his battered shirt. Your reliance on him sent a shiver down his spine. Looking up at Erlang, Wukong shrugged. “I did what I thought was best.”

“Care to elaborate, monkey?”

“This mortal is not of this world. The only reason I even traveled all this way to face you insolent lots was because my master and I have decided you may be the only ones capable of sending them back!” Wukong clarified. 

“He's not lying!” you added hastily, unaware of where the abrupt courage came from. “I am not from here. I came from the twenty-first century–uhh…” You sighed defeatedly. “You won’t know what that means.” 

“The path to the celestial court is too rigorous. For the mortal’s safety, I must provide them with a second option.”

Erlang frowned. He couldn’t deduce an ounce of deception from Wukong or you. Your words were confusing, but they rang true. He tilted his head, accessing you further with his third eye, and then he hummed, “Where did you come from?”

“I… um…” you fidgeted with your fingers. “I was on a plane. There was awful turbulence, and I think it was crashing. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I was here.”

“Monkey, do you understand their words?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Wukong replied. “They have attempted to explain things to me, but it all sounded like impossible ideas. A flying building that can carry more than thirty people at a time? There’s simply no way.”

“It’s not a building. It’s a plane,” you clarified. 

“You said it’s as big as a building!” 

“I am comparing the sizes so you have a better idea of how big a plane is,” you said. “I’m not saying a plane is a building.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“Silence!” 

Goosebumps appeared all over your skin at Erlang’s holler. Wukong shut his eyes and clicked his tongue in annoyance, unfazed by the wind that blew past you both.

“It was a good choice not to deceive me,” Erlang said. “But even then, nothing explains why you stole an immortal peach from the garden and gave it to a human.”

“The path to the celestial court is rigorous,” Wukong argued. “It is riddled with yaoguais, abandoned murals cursed to hell and back, and uneven grounds. A mortal would die before they make it here.”

“That’s because they weren’t supposed to.”

“How do you suggest they return home, you three-eyed freak?” Wukong said. 

“They cannot,” Erlang informed. “ After eating the peach, we mustn’t allow their departure with 3000 years of life. You shouldn’t have given them one.”

“I gave them one so they can have a shot at getting all the way here to seek the help they need! My actions are justified!”

Erlang remained silent for a moment. His eyes darted between you and Wukong. One of you reeked of partial deception; his third eye gleamed with an uncomfortable redness that forced you to look away. Before you could, your attention shifted to the man who called upon you.

“Mortal,” Erlang started with a calculative smile. He released his weapon into thin air, and it vanished. Then, he placed a hand behind his back and the other before his abdomen. “Have you any idea what this monkey thinks of you?”

“Huh? I–“ You looked at Wukong, who glared at Erlang with a conversation you couldn’t hear. “I don’t know. He protected me all this time so I suppose we are good friends.”

“Good friends!” Erlang boasted. He turned to Wukong, nodding humorously. “Did you hear that, monkey? After all the effort!”

“Erlang.”

“Mortal! Do you know the monkey dreams about you intimately?” 

“Erlang Shen!”

Wukong’s staff appeared in his hands as he lunged at the man. He raised it in the air, ready to pierce the pole through his forehead, only to catch Erlang raising his hand and motioning it toward your direction. Wukong swallowed a gasp, his head snapping over to where you stood. His body maneuvered away from Erlang to you, and a bolt of lightning hit the gold staff along with the spear before dissipating. The spear, too, returned to its owner. 

You blinked. Not a flinch ripped over your body, and that was not the result of a delayed reaction but rather a learned response. For as long as you have stayed with Wukong, there has only been one occasion when danger barely scraped past you. Besides that, you have never been scratched. Wukong hasn’t allowed one mistake. You’ve gotten so used to his presence as a symbol of safety that you didn’t flinch when Erlang Shen threw his spear at you.

Wukong would catch it. You knew, and he did. You remained unscathed.

Erlang stilled his movement to wait for the unfolding of the interaction to be contrived. He didn’t need to do anything physical to Wukong. This confrontation would probably be punishment enough. After all, the monkey king has fallen in love with a mortal. 

Staring up at the back of his head, you twirled your thumbs as you recalled what Erlang said. “Wukong… you…”

He hissed timidly, sparing a short glance behind his shoulder before looking away as he lowered his staff. How could Erlang have figured that out so quickly? It must have meant those thoughts consumed him, and indeed they did. Every night, at the very least, when you slept next to him. He tried not to look at you a lot, staring at the moon to distract himself. Yet, his mind remained full. 

The moon's beauty wasn’t enough to deter him from thinking about you. Skin bare, clothes torn; trapped beneath his weight, hands restrained, eyes barely opened; glistening with sweat and drool, trembling between uncontrollable pants of his name. What nonsense that he thought the moon could distract him. If the moon saw what he dreamt of, she would even have to stand and admire you. 

“I’m sorry,” Wukong muttered. “I’ll cease my mind of such impurities at once.” 

“No, that’s–I’m…” you shook your head. 

The notion of him thinking of you in that light was surprising, but to say you weren’t the slightest bit flattered was a lie. Nobody back in your world has ever taken a liking toward you. Yet, all of a sudden, possibly the strongest being in this set universe has a thing for you? You didn’t mind it at all. How many people could proudly say the sun Wukong was attracted to them? Not a lot! Granted, people back in your world would consider you insane, but still! what an exciting achievement!

That wasn’t the issue, though. 

“You could have brought me here long ago,” you said.

He made a roundtrip to and from heaven’s peach garden within a few minutes just to get you that immortal peach. The trip to the celestial court was unnecessary. He could have escorted you there in a week. Plus, the extended lifespan given to you by the immortal peach—after all the meddling with the celestial court, he must have known that you wouldn’t be allowed to leave this place with it, too.

“You don’t want me to leave,” you whispered. “You did this on purpose.”

Erlang clapped. “Very well deduced, mortal.”

“You!” You whipped your head over at his joyous demeanor, your nose scrunched and your eyes scratching up a fire, ready to burst through your lips. With hands curled into fists, you stomped over to the man with an accusing finger in the air. “You find this so amusing, don’t you?”

“Wait, don’t!” Wukong reached a hand out for you a second too late. 

“All you care about is your feud with Wukong, and you don’t notice how a single, stupid peach has disregarded all my effort to get here!” you exclaimed in Erlang’s face, frustrated tears rounding your eyes. “This is my livelihood! Do you understand that? I came to you for help, and you pawn my life for a moment of triumph against the monkey!”

“He’s not the terrible one. You are!” 

“Hey! Calm down–“ Wukong gripped your arm and pulled you behind him, shielding you as he stared at the three-eyed man stunned.

He wasn't sure how Erlang would react to your outburst, especially when you associated him with traits he despised. No mortal has ever been bold enough to speak to a God with such aggression, even when deeply angered. Watching the long-haired man like a hawk, ensuring he could catch even the faintest twitch of a finger, Wukong lowered his voice when he spoke for your sake.

“Erlang, they didn’t mean it." He blocked your whole figure behind him when Erlang looked up. "They’re very family-oriented and don't take any setbacks lightly.”

The God didn't speak for a while, and you almost took his silence as a sign that he felt disrespected. He should; you did disrespect him!

“No, I understand. I’ve also gone through quite the ordeal for my family,” Erlang muttered, though his eyes seemed lost in the clouds from your accusation.

Clearing his throat, he met your surprised eyes carefully and sighed. You were right. This didn't concern his relationship with Wukong. Even the monkey has enough heart to return to this damned place just to get you some help (disregarding the tricks he's done). He should be better than that.

“I will ask around to see if there is any way to send you home, but something must be done to take away the 3000 lives before you return.” 

You sniffed away the tears. “What do you suggest?”

“There are temples scattered across the path to the West. Each housing a Buddha with the power to take one’s soul. Travel to them and ask for their help,” Erlang said. “I don’t recommend too much at a time, as the ordeal is a mimicry of death. I don’t believe a Buddha would be willing to descend so much pain at once either.”

You closed your eyes. You anticipated that hurdle. “Thank you.” 

“You’re most welcome,” he replied. “I wish you luck. I wish both of us luck.”

With a light shove of his hand, a strong wind blew you off the cloudy ground, and you quickly fell toward the ground. Wukong hopped onto the nimbus cloud and chased after you, catching you swiftly in his arms.

“Let’s go find my master,” he muttered. “He should know what to do from here.”

“Okay,” you said. “3000 times, that’s a lot.” 

“I’m sorry for everything,” he said. 

You were upset with his decision, but logically, you also understood why he did it. If you fell in love and found out they would soon be leaving you, you’d do anything to delay the inevitable, too. The methods would be mundane for you because of the lack of magic in your world, but judging by that logic, feeding you an immortal peach was also mundane to Wukong.

“If there’s a way for me to die those 3000 times for you, I will,” he added. 

You bit your lower lip to hide the unexpected smirk. Perhaps part of you were relieved that you got to stay with him longer. Clutching his shirt in your hand, you leaned against his chest and watched the world pass you by.

“Wukong,” you called suddenly. There was something you wanted to ask him. 

“Yeah?”

“What exactly happens in your dreams about me?”

Random Texts with the jjk men.

includes: nanami, sukuna, toji, geto,gojo

warnings: crack, slight suggestive, honestly this was just for laughs

want to join my general taglisting? click here

Was rewatching a documentary on long tailed macaques (which I tend to imagine Wukong is based on), and they show how the alpha male will make this rough throaty sound that means it's time for everyone in the troop to climb up a sleeping tree and turn in for the night. Then I started thinking of Wukong (as I always do) and then…*gestures vaguely*

Can be any Wukong really, I didn’t have a specific one in mind when writing.

The fire crackles and pops in front of you, warming your feet and hands as you unwind from a long day. The trek over the mountain range is a draining one that leaves your feet sore and your lungs burning.

Bai Long Ma is settled down under the shady branches of a tree, his body curled protectively around Tang Monk even as he succumbs to sleep. The deep, even motion of his breathing doesn’t seem to bother Tang Sanzang, his eyes closed and back straight as he counts prayers on his mala. Wujing is propped up against the group's luggage, book in hand as he idly flips the pages. Bajie is curled up not far from the ogre, snoring away without a care in the world, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. You glance over your left shoulder, then your right, searching for the last member of your group. Where could he have-?

A rough chirping noise sounds from above, and you look up to see Wukong crouching in the tree above you, his tail curled around the branch he sits on.

“Oh, there you are-” You begin, only for him to interrupt you with a new sound from his throat. It’s different than the chirps he normally gives when he sees you or when going about the day. It’s a rougher sound, one that starts and ends in his throat, almost like a growl but…doesn’t sound aggressive. You raise an eyebrow, watching him carefully.

Your relationship had only recently changed, longing stares and subtle touches finally recognized and acknowledged. It was still very new territory for you both, and some hidden barriers between culture and language were being tested and explored. In the months you two have been traveling together, he’s never made this sound at you before.

“Everything okay Wukong?” You ask, slowly rising to your feet as you watch him. He mirrors your movements, hopping down from the tree and standing before you, his tail moving in a slow, lazy arc that you’ve come to recognize as relaxed but intent. When Wukong wants something done, he intends for it to be done, even if he has to step in and do it himself.

You just have no idea what he wants you to do.

He doesn’t respond with words, only making that throaty noise again, his eyes darting up and down your body as if to say ‘what are you waiting for?’. You take a guess and step closer, grabbing his hand and smiling at him. Wukong blinks, heat rising to his cheeks that you can see despite the fur. He huffs a quick sigh, rolling his shoulders and turning away from you, tugging your hand behind him. You follow dutifully, trusting him with your safety.

He leads you only a short distance away from camp, the fire still clearly visible between the trees, but with a little more privacy. He stops suddenly at the base of a large camphor tree, and at the base, nestled among the roots is a sleeping spot already prepared. Your bedroll is even here already, propped up with leaves underneath to act as a cushy place to sleep for the night. Wukong undoes his tiger sash from his waist and hangs it over a low hanging branch before settling down on his own bedroll, tucked in right next to yours.

Charmed by the sight, you settle down next to him without complaint. The spot he picked has thick roots on either side to keep any chill in the air at bay, and you know you can rest easy that your companions are safe just a few feet away from you. You give a happy wiggle into your monkey’s warm side, pleased when he wraps his arm around your shoulders. When he tugs you to lay down beside him, you do so without complaint.

You’re face to face with him now, his intense eyes studying you. One of his hands comes up and brushes against your cheek, fingers tracing the curve down to your throat and over the hill of your shoulder, down your arm until his hand reaches yours. You tangle your fingers together, enjoying the warmth of his calloused palm against yours.

“Is this all you wanted? Some alone time?” You whisper to him, smiling in amusement at his silly ways.

He blinks at you for a moment, as if confused. Then his expression changes to one of realization, and he rolls his eyes up as he gives a defeated sigh.

“I haven’t taught you what the sound means yet, have I?” The hand not tangled with yours comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and you giggle at his exasperation.

“No, no I don’t think you did~” You coo. “I was so confused, I didn’t know what you wanted!” 

He joins in on your chuckling, pressing his forehead closer to yours and sharing your breath. You move your legs closer to his, happy when he returns the motion and slots his thigh in between yours. You can feel his opposable toes flexing against your calf muscles and see his tail curl into a comfortable position behind him. He repeats the sound from earlier, the rough not-quite-a-growl noise.

“That sound means bedtime.” He starts. “Monkeys in charge of a family will give that call when it’s time for everyone to climb into the safety of a tree for sleep. When I was…” He pauses for a moment, his eyes looking distant and sad. It’s an expression you’ve seen before, one he always gets when thinking of Mount Huaguo. You press a soft kiss to his lips to bring him back to you in the present.

It works.

“...Back home, when it was time for bed I would give that call. All the monkeys on the mountain, yaoguai or not, would listen. They would climb into Water Curtain Cave and find some place to settle down with friends and family. Regular monkeys preferred the giant trees in the cave, the yaoguais would go into our giant stone palace…” A gentle smile spread across his muzzle, one of his canines peeking out from under his upper lip.

“Not that I had strict rules about sleeping places. Some regular monkeys liked sleeping on the beds and some yaoguais never grew out of the habit of sleeping in the trees. As long as everyone was inside the safety of the cave and sleeping together, that's all that mattered to me.” He gives a small shrug, wrapping his free arm tight around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him. His hand still holding yours moved up so he could press a gentle kiss against the back of yours, his lips soft and warm where they touched you.

“Well,” You breathed, chest feeling heavy with emotion. It always rocked you to your core when he would be vulnerable like this with you, letting you see parts of him no one else had. Some would argue such tenderness didn’t exist in the Great Sage, but you knew better. “I’ll be sure to remember it now. Bedtime and bedtime cuddles for my sweet monkey when he calls for it~”

His face immediately burned at your words, his cheeks bright pink and his eyes looking down at your pressed together bodies instead of your own smiling face.

“S-sure. Just don’t…uhg-come here-!” He pulled your face closer, burying your head in the crook of his neck as he curled his warm body around you. Your giggles were muffled against the soft fabric of his clothes, his smell surrounding you on all sides.

Within minutes you were asleep.

Tutorial on how to defeat a curse

✨ Reader letting their intrusive thoughts win Edition✨

Yuji, being verbally attacked by Sukuna: Shut up already!

Reader, holding a coke: Yuji

Yuji: Huh?

Reader, shaking the can of coke like a maraca: hold still

Yuji: Wha-

Reader, grabs his face and proceeds to chug the shaked coke on the visible mouth on Yuji's cheek till its empty: there we go

Yuji, gags: i can taste it!

Sukuna, currently unresponsive:

Reader: You see that people? That's how easy it is

This but with a can of sprite or anything that could put this bastard into a coma.

The moment sukuna opens his mouth, you’ve already shoved a ghost chilli pepper into his mouth, and all of a sudden the almighty king of curses is now your bitch considering how quickly he’s kneeling over in front of you.

Poor yuji, while thankful for you shutting sukuna up, is terrified of what else you’ll do just to get what you want. Utter silence.

Pepper spray his eye? Absolutely. No doubt about it have you sprayed pepper spray into his eye on multiple occasions because you thought he was looking at you funny.

Sour sweets such as warheads? Never have you seen sukuna shrivel up like a prune as fast as you have. Hell! You’ve even used sparking water to subdue him on several occasions also.

Still to this day sukuna wonders why people drink such utter shit as sparking water.

Needles to say he chats shit when you’re not in sight, not because he’s afraid of you’ll torture him with something else, defiantly not…👀