Frost

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/48480988.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime)
Relationship: Gojo Satoru/Iori Utahime
Character: Gojo Satoru, Iori Utahime, Ieiri Shoko, Kusakabe Atsuya
Additional Tags: Soft Gojo Satoru, of course, Mutual Pining, Utahime has a crush,
Sexual Tension, Gojo-related mischief and hijinks, Protective Gojo
Satoru, Gratuitous Smut, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex,
Flirting, General thirstiness, Gojo has a crush too, marking kink, GoUta
Week 2023 (Jujutsu Kaisen), Dominant Gojo, Cock Warming, Edging
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-07-10 Completed: 2023-07-30 Words: 15,020
Chapters: 2/2

Frost
by journie19

Summary

Gojo lifted her wrist slightly up, the sleeve of her kosode still bunched by her elbow. Her
skin was smooth, pale, unmarked even though Utahime could feel the swirls of ice on it.
Gojo cocked his head, his frown deepening, and pulled her wrist closer to his face as if he
could see something.

“What is this?” he murmured.

He tugged at his blindfold with his free hand, pulling it down around his neck. His hair fell
over his forehead, soft white above the glittering blue of his eyes, now fully visible.

“Utahime—“

Gojo’s eyes traveled from her wrist to her face, and then back down again. His fingers
traced a line over her, and Utahime sucked a breath in, because he followed the path of the
cold perfectly, his thumb over one of the swirls.
 Chapter 1

Hi friends! This is loosely based off of an absolutely wild (in the best way) doujin of these two by
yagou_san on Twitter and will be a two-parter that concludes during GoUta week. I hope you
enjoy!

***

Iori Utahime could see the residuals of the curse’s energy as she walked up the stairs to her
apartment. Little electric blue splotches that trailed along the wall, winding down the stairs,
curling around the bannisters as if it had taken the liberty to leisurely explore her building, slowly
exploring. She could feel it, a blip on the edges of her senses. It was small, she thought. Small but
fairly strong, with energy that pulsated rapidly, like a tiny heartbeat.

Utahime's fingers found the leather-bound handle of the cursed tool that she kept tucked away
within the layers of her miko attire as she walked, and she drew it, a comforting weight in her hand.
She felt the pulses of the curse's energy grow stronger, and her own energy began to twine within
her, a careful dance, a slow strengthening. Utahime almost laughed at it, or perhaps at herself—
over-preparing to the last.

She kept her footfalls silent as she rounded the stairwell, following the splotches of blue energy
down the hallway. A grim smile tugged at her lips when she saw that they led in the direction her
apartment, feeling a little thankful that at least it had not floated in the direction of her neighbors.
She tightened her hold on the handle of her cursed tool, and wondered absently whether she ought
to get a new one, the leather feeling worn beneath her fingers.

The curse's energy began to flutter, displeased at what it could sense coming for it, and Utahime
suddenly spotted it as she rounded another corner, a glowing mass of blue floating right in front of
her door. There were tentacles trailing from the mass, little stringy things, thinner than hair.
Utahime watched them undulate, a slow wave of motion that rocked them, oddly entrancing. They
waved again, another slow motion that reflected oddly off of the walls.

So pretty, Utahime thought, watching the wave again. It was late, the sun already set, and the glow
of the curse reminded her of a star, shiny and sparkly. She wondered why there was no white
amongst all the blue, because she felt that there should be, perhaps an extra glow woven in. It
bothered her, the visual before her feeling intrinsically incorrect, and she kicked her ankle as
something cold brushed across it, her fingers loosening around the handle of her cursed tool.

There was another wave, another brush of something cold, but around her wrist this time, then her
arm, then her elbow. Utahime shivered, not liking the cold as she felt it wrap around her neck,
snaking over her shoulders, down to her stomach, around her thighs. She felt it on her tongue, her
toes, over her chest and around her hips. She shivered again as she watched the curse move, its
body still waving.

Such a bright blue, but there was no white. Something—something wrong.

What had happened hit her very suddenly, a heavy realization that felt like another wave, but a
crashing, rolling one this time instead of something entrancing.
Utahime blinked as a haze seemed to lift from her, and she took an unsteady step back,
bewilderment brimming when her movements were limited, something forcing her to be still. She
looked down at herself, and anxiety rapidly unfolded within her as she saw that the curse's thin,
hair-like tentacles had wound themselves around her body, crossing over, lines of ice that made
intricate swirls. They had slipped beneath her clothes, into her mouth, up by her eyes. They burned
for a moment, a searing cold, and Utahime cried out. She yanked her arms back roughly, trying
again to step back before she could attempt to think of something more rational to do, and surprise
flared brightly within her when it worked. There was a snapping sound, something else that pinged
off of the walls, and the layers of tentacles on her body faded away, taking the burning cold with
them. She thought she felt a spot, only a pinprick of ice beneath her ear that lingered, but then it too
faded as the curse reverberated back from her, its body thudding against her door.

Utahime looked at it, waiting for the shock to filter from her body, her pulse thrumming rapidly. It
remained motionless, but she could feel the cold that radiated from it, chills that spread over her
body, down to her fingers whose grip was once more tight around the handle of her cursed tool.
Utahime glanced to it, the blue glow of the curse reflecting off of the blade, and she slashed
forward quickly, cutting through the middle of its body before it could react. It shook, the tentacles
waving angrily, and then exploded in a quick flash of blue, everything dissipating. The spot of
coolness that had lingered beneath her ear returned with a sting like the prick of a needle before it
again disappeared.

Utahime stared, her pulse still too swift, at the place where the curse had floated, feeling a little
shaky that she had been so easily ensnared. She sheathed her cursed tool without paying much
attention to it, her fingers rubbing over the place beneath her ear. She thought she felt a cold burn,
and rubbed over the place once more as anxiety began to pool in her gut, some sort of
uncomfortable, instinctual feeling that made her frown. But there would be a staff meeting in
Tokyo tomorrow, Utahime remembered, her frown shifting to a small, secret, smile. A staff
meeting, and so it would be simple enough to seek Shoko's help if indeed something was amiss.

Utahime tried, as she always did, to stop there. She would go to see Shoko, and Shoko would be
able to help. But, as was her habit, Utahime quickly gave into the temptation to conjure up
impossible, imagined scenarios, letting her mind wander too freely. It would be easy, she thought,
to ask him to take a look. He would be able to spot if something wrong in an instant.

She shivered once more, but not from cold this time, as she envisioned Gojo's broad fingers sliding
up her neck, tipping her head forward, finding the coolness behind her ear. She could almost hear
what he would say, thinking of how his tone would fall into a familiar teasing lilt, annoying
enough to make her scowl, endearing enough to squeeze at her heart. He would laugh, Utahime
knew. He would laugh, and she would roll her eyes at him, and he would say something that would
make her want to punch him. And then—

Utahime’s frown returned, because he would tell her to go to Shoko, too. He wouldn’t be able to
help her. Her fingers slipped from the place behind her ear, and Utahime brushed them through her
bangs once to try and clear her head. It didn’t work, really—the sound of Gojo's laugh still rang in
her ears, the imagined sensation of his fingers on her neck too tangible. She sighed softly,
frustrated at herself as she unlocked her door, closing it firmly behind her. And, just once more,
Utahime let herself think of bright white hair and shining blue eyes, a long body that moved in
irritating gracefulness, and a smile that had always been too perfect for her to look away from.

The spot beneath her ear felt cool again, only a little, as if it sensed the gentle sadness within her.
Utahime pushed that sensation away too, locking all of her thoughts into a neat box in her mind,
tucking the key safely away. She chastised herself, because she really ought to be better about
stopping these thoughts before they slid into her mind.
She ought to be better about it, but Utahime knew she wouldn’t be. She would let herself think
about it again, and imagine, and she would feel the gentle sadness. She always had.

***

The train ride into Tokyo felt quick the next day, and Utahime was able to catch a cab with no
trouble, letting it drop her along the edge of campus. She had arrived slightly early, as she always
did, and so she took her time walking across campus to the staff building, enjoying the feel of the
sun, of the warmth of early spring. The cherry blossoms were just beginning to bloom, soft pink
buds decorating the trees. She loved it here, this small piece of home, filled with memories of her
teenage years and the time that had passed since then, as she had turned from young sorcerer to
teacher. She had grown strong here, she had learned.

Utahime let herself continue reminiscing, memories flashing perhaps a bit too vividly in her mind
as she tried to keep her thoughts under control. But already they began to slip as the box she had
locked them in opened, the key coming rebelliously out of its hiding place, because she could sense
a familiar presence as she approached the staff building, a well of cursed energy that had no end,
and no beginning. It made Utahime’s heartbeat pick up, and her stomach swooped in excitement
and dismay, because Gojo was early. She hadn’t counted on that—he usually arrived late, giving
her plenty of time to situate herself in the back, a wall on one side of her and Shoko on the other,
with no room for him to sit beside her.

He always tried, though, grinning at her in the way he did, an innocent sort of smile while he asked
her to scoot over. Utahime would, of course, and she would be secretly thrilled that he had chosen
to do such a thing. And then she would spend the meeting with her eyes trained studiously forward,
because he would know if she looked at him. She wondered if he already did know, with those
eyes of his. A proclivity that should not be there, feelings that were unreturned, her gentle sadness.
The idea made her feel slightly anxious, her fists clenching nervously by her sides as she made her
way into the staff building.

She thought, as she slipped down the halls, seeking the room in which the meeting would be held,
that she felt the spot beneath her ear flare with a slight cold, too faint to truly be sure. But Utahime
forgot about it too quickly, because she heard a familiar laugh echo down the hallways, a pleased,
satisfied sound that worked straight into the core of her, making her stomach flutter. She schooled
her expression, setting a scowl onto her face before ducking into the meeting room, exasperation
rising in her because her eyes found him immediately, the only other person who had elected to
arrive early.

Gojo looked quite comfortable, sitting in exactly the spot where Utahime usually situated herself,
one shoulder against the wall, his legs stretched lazily out in front of him. He wore a dark blindfold
today, and so she couldn’t see his eyes, but his grin was present, a delighted, playful cock to his
lips. Utahime narrowed her eyes at him, her scowl wavering as he tipped his head back, his laugh
sounding out again. She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

“Were you going to sit here, Uta?” Gojo asked in between laughs, cracking his knuckles, rolling
his wrists.

Utahime managed to glare at him, stopping just inside the doorway.

“No,” she said firmly, and then winced, because the place beneath her ear turned unmistakably
very cold, the edges of it seeming to grow.

Gojo’s grin shifted, a knowing amusement gathering at the corners of his mouth.

“Weren’t you?”

“No,” Utahime muttered, sounding appropriately grumpy. She made her way to the corner opposite
him, her fingers circling over the coldness on her neck as she walked. “I was going to sit here.”

Gojo laughed again, making her grimace, because it was her favorite laugh from him, deeply
amused, deeply mischievous. The sound stuttered out abruptly, and Utahime gasped, sitting
hurriedly down. Her back crashed against the wall in her rush, her thighs landing roughly onto the
wooden floor.

She wasn’t a moment too soon—Gojo appeared out of thin air a second later, landing solidly atop
her lap as he once more attempted to steal her seat. One of his hands slammed against the floor to
steady himself, his laugh still echoing.

“Get off me, you idiot,” Utahime hissed, her face squished into his back.

She shut her eyes for a moment, hoping he couldn’t see that her cheeks were flaming, or feel that
her pulse was racing.

“Insults,” Gojo chided, not moving. “That’s not very polite, Utahime.”

Utahime shoved at him, her hands finding his shoulders. She could feel the fabric of his uniform
jacket, and her cheeks heated afresh at his Infinity being lowered, cursing herself for being
ridiculous.

“You’re heavy,” Utahime complained, shoving at him again.

Gojo shifted slightly, but not in the direction she was pushing him. He twisted his shoulders, tilting
his head down to her, and Utahime thought she saw a faint glitter of blue beneath his blindfold.

“No, you’re just small,” Gojo replied, his teeth flashing as his grin returned.

His smile stayed in place as he peered down down at her, a light silence settling. Utahime pushed
at him once more, but she put no force behind it, the sleeves of her hakama sliding down her wrists
and catching on her elbows. Her legs began to go numb beneath his weight, and she started to
contemplate the rather mortifying possibility of any of her colleagues catching her in such a
position.

Utahime opened her mouth to scold him, but then Gojo's smile softened, turning slightly
affectionate. She forgot instantly what she was going to say, her words getting stuck somewhere in
her throat. She thought she heard a door slam somewhere in the distance, and then footsteps that
grew gradually closer, a steady sound coming from the hall.

“Gojo,” she whispered urgently, remembering how to speak. “Get off—“

It happened in an instant, just as her eyes rested again on the faint glimmer of blue that shone
through his blindfold. A flash of cold beneath her ear, and then a rapid spread, spiderwebs of ice
stretching over her body, winding down, trailing across. It burned, a stinging ice that made her
stiffen, a gasp of surprise and pain slipping through her teeth.

She saw Gojo’s smile stutter before it shifted to a frown, and she suddenly felt warmth beneath her
rather than the coolness of the floor, her back against the solidness of Gojo’s chest instead of the
wall as he switched their positions, his arms wrapping around her.

“Uta, what’s—“

Utahime’s heart jumped, and her body did too as Kusakabe Atsuya strolled in, his hands in his
pockets and a sly grin forming on his face as he beheld them; Utahime’s precarious, unsure perch
on Gojo’s lap, his face tilted down to hers, hers tipped up to his. Utahime mentally slapped herself,
her cheeks heating yet again as she looked to the doorway, her eyes wide and embarrassed. She
glanced to Gojo, his face infuriatingly calm. A hint of white peeked over the top of his blindfold as
he raised his eyebrows at Kusakabe, whose grin grew a little wider before he backed gradually out
of sight, a wry chuckle ringing out from the hall.

Gojo turned his head immediately back to her as if nothing had happened, his frown still in place,
his eyebrows still raised. Utahime stared at the empty doorway for a moment longer, annoyed
because some part of her felt inappropriately gratified at being caught in such an intimate position
with him, and then turned her full attention back to Gojo, her eyes finding his through his
blindfold. She tensed, hissing as another wave of cold flowed through her body, more ice
spiderwebbing.

“The fuck happened to you?”

Utahime jumped as Gojo’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, a ring of heat amongst all her ice.

“Nothing,” Utahime said quickly.

She recalled, just for an instant, her errant thoughts from the night before, Gojo’s fingers trailing
up her neck—

“Something,” Gojo argued.

He lifted her wrist slightly up, the sleeve of her kosode still bunched by her elbow. Her skin was
smooth, pale, unmarked even though Utahime could feel the swirls of ice on it. Gojo cocked his
head, his frown deepening, and pulled her wrist closer to his face as if he could see something.

“What is this?” he murmured.

He tugged at his blindfold with his free hand, pulling it down around his neck. His hair fell over
his forehead, soft, lovely white above the glittering blue of his eyes, now fully visible.

“Utahime—“

Gojo’s eyes traveled from her wrist to her face, and then back down again. His fingers traced a line
over her, and Utahime sucked a breath in, because he followed the path of the cold perfectly, his
thumb over one of the swirls.

“It’s nothing,” Utahime insisted, not able to bring herself to yank her hand out of his grasp. “Shoko
—“

“Right,” Gojo muttered, staring intently at her wrist now, moving his thumb again over the pattern
she could not see. “Let’s go.”

Utahime yelped, the sound abruptly muted as the world disappeared, the staff room folding into
nothing. The morgue appeared second later, cool air sliding through her hair as Gojo landed on his
feet, his arms curled tightly around her, one around her back, one beneath her knees.
“Gojo,” Utahime protested, too aware of his firm grip, the warmth of his hands as they held her.
“Put me down. I’m fine—“

“This shit’s all over you,” Gojo interrupted, catching her eye. “What—“

“Residuals,” Utahime broke in, thinking of the curse’s undulating tentacles, a wave of glowing
blue.

It had been the same shade, Utahime realized, staring up at him. The curse had been the shade of
blue as his eyes, electric and crackling. She wondered if that was why she thought it had been
missing something, no white tied in with the blue as it should have been.

“A curse,” she breathed, studying his face. “A curse touched me. Its energy must’ve—stuck.”

Gojo grunted, and his eyes left hers to travel the length of her body. She saw something dark
manifest amongst the depths of them, his jaw tightening.

“Come on.”

Gojo’s voice sounded slightly angry as he carried her further into the morgue, past examination
tables, seeking Shoko’s office. Utahime thought about insisting again that he set her down, but
found herself instead settling into his chest, his warmth a comfort against the cold that covered her.
Her teeth began to chatter, another shiver working its way up her spine.

“It’s cold?” he asked, his voice softening slightly.

Utahime nodded, her cheek rubbing against his jacket with the motion. Gojo didn’t say anything,
but she felt him adjust his hold on her, urging her more securely into the heat of his body as he
walked, further relieving the edge of the ice. He stopped only a moment later in front of a familiar
doorway, murmuring Shoko's name in greeting.

Utahime heard a laugh, gentle and kind, and she twisted her head over her shoulder to see Shoko,
seated at her desk and clearly trying to keep her face neutral, a smile threatening.

“Don’t we have a meeting?”

Shoko's gaze was friendly, questioning and assessing, still almost smiling.

“She’s hurt,” Gojo explained.

“Residuals,” Utahime corrected, glaring up at him. “I’m fine .”

Concern fixed onto Shoko's face, and she stood quickly, her hands already beginning to glow
white.

“I don’t see anything,” she said, coming to stand in front of them, her brow furrowing in
concentration.

“It’s there,” Gojo muttered, his eyes on Shoko’s hands as she lowered them to Utahime’s body.

Utahime felt her body relax, because Shoko’s energy was as gentle and soothing as ever, a
pureness that washed over her, healing and sweet. The cold began to retract, a tightening over her
body and then a withdrawal, the ice melting over her limbs, her stomach, her torso, her cheeks. It
all narrowed, concentrating, and Utahime wasn’t sure if she could even feel the coolness behind
her ear anymore, Shoko’s energy too much for it to handle.
Gojo exhaled, and his shoulders slumped slightly, as if he were relieved. A warmth bloomed in her
at this, something tender by her heart, and Utahime glanced to his face, meeting his eyes as they
settled onto hers. The soothing feeling of Shoko’s energy disappeared as she pulled her hands
away, her job done.

“Better?” Gojo murmured, his fingers pressing into her, his hold on her body still firm.

Utahime nodded up at him, biting the inside of her cheek. Gojo’s smile was soft as he set her
slowly down at last, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. He rubbed a circle over her
collarbones with his thumbs.

“Good.”

Utahime thought her heart felt as if it had stalled in her chest, everything stilling under his gaze. It
had been a long time, she thought distantly, since she had seen him without any sort of eye
covering, his face bare. She looked for a while, knowing it was too long, before turning to face
Shoko, whose smile was back in place, a knowing curve of her lips.

“Thank you,” Utahime said quietly, feeling suddenly apprehensive, Shoko's gaze too perceptive.

Shoko inclined her head as a response, and shook some of her hair out of her face, crossing her
arms over her chest. She seemed to be waiting for something, her smile turning expectant.

“The meeting?” Shoko said after a moment passed, laughing gently again.

Utahime felt Gojo’s hands tense on her shoulders, and then he laughed, too. He squeezed her once
before he opened his arms wide, shifting on his feet.

“Hop on,” he said, his voice as teasing as it always was, mischief sparking.

Utahime felt something quiver within her at his tone, and she looked to the ceiling rather than at
Gojo as he gathered both of them close, his arms curling over their shoulders, his fingers clasping.
She thought she felt him lean slightly closer to her in the split second before he warped them, the
movement so slight that it felt like a secret.

She had a very quick flash of a frightful, hopeful thought as Gojo led them into the darkness
between worlds. She tried to lock it away, knowing that was the safest option, but considered it
anyways: the far-fetched possibility that maybe she had been wrong in her assumption that the
feelings that she had, her own secret, were not entirely unreturned.

***

It was nearly a week, the incident with the curse almost forgotten, before Utahime felt it again.

She had been asleep, her mind tucked away in dreams she only faintly remembered, her muscles
lax. And then it happened, an ice that spread rapidly across her body, curling around and around as
it made a pattern, whorls that felt as if they covered all of her, every inch. Utahime sat sharply up
as she was jerked from sleep, her toes numb, her lips feeling as if they might be blue.

Her thoughts were fragmented and disjointed, her mind confused as everything froze, her body
trembling as the tendrils of ice seemed to thicken, constricting around her, squeezing. She reached
blindly for her phone, feeling surprised that she could move at all, having expected her limbs to be
stiff and frigid, held taut like they had been when the curse had ensnared her.

Utahime found it after a moment of groping, her fingers tapping the screen, a light flaring. She
blinked at the sudden brightness, and grimaced at her arm, now illuminated. Utahime squinted,
flipping her arm over under the light in search of the fine tentacles, but as it had been in Tokyo, she
saw only bare skin, smooth and unmarked, her own eyes still unable to perceive the ice that she
could feel so clearly. She stared until her phone screen went dark once more, her thoughts ordering
themselves as she began to contemplate her options.

She remembered the glowing white of Shoko’s energy, and the way the ice had fled from it,
folding away. It must not have disappeared entirely, Utahime realized grimly, hissing out a breath
as the cold began to burn, frigid flames licking over her skin. She stiffened, squeezing her eyes shut
for a long minute, opening them again once the flames faded back into a dull freezing.

Utahime wondered, beginning to shiver from the cold, if the residuals from the curse had simply
hidden themselves from Shoko’s energy rather than actually being affected by it. The prospect was
troubling, and Utahime stiffened again at another wave of icy flames, her fingers clutching at the
blankets that had fallen to her waist.

A thought alighted, a quick yearning that Utahime tried stubbornly to push away under the excuse
that it was ludicrous, simply an option that had come to her mind because she was disoriented,
hurting and a little lost in the darkness of her room. But Utahime thought of him again, and then
once more, feeling angry because she had already partially given in, her willpower crumbling. She
had been dreaming of him, she realized suddenly, remembering hazy flashes of white and blue,
thoughts that had taken up residence in her mind even when she had been unconscious. And
perhaps—perhaps it made sense, to call him. He would be able to arrive quickly, after all.

Gojo answered on the second ring, too quickly for Utahime to even begin to rethink her decision.

“Hime?”

His voice was rough, as if he had also been sleeping. Utahime felt her stomach flip at the sound of
it, a small spark of heat buried by cold.

“Um—“ Utahime stammered, forgetting suddenly what she had intended to say.

“What’s wrong?”

A wave of ice rolled through her, burning her tongue, her throat, stinging frost over her cheeks.

“Cold,” Utahime exhaled through her teeth, her muscles tight.

Gojo swore, and the line clicked abruptly.

There was a silence, a moment that lingered long enough for her nerves to thread through the ice
that covered her before Utahime heard a whoosh, and then her eyes found a tall shadow in the
darkness of her bedroom doorway. She sat up further, seeing the faintest glitter of blue near the
outline of his hair; the slight glow of the Six Eyes, uncovered as Gojo peered back at her.

“Hey,” he said softly, the roughness in his voice settling, turning deeper.

Her floor creaked as he moved closer to her, Utahime’s eyes tracking his shadow as he knelt beside
her futon. He grasped the blankets that covered her legs, and Utahime didn’t think to protest as he
peeled them away, the oversized t-shirt that she had slept in bunched around her thighs.
“It’s everywhere,” he murmured, the glitter of his eyes brightening as he studied her. “It’s—it’s all
over you, Hime.”

“I know,” Utahime bit out, trembling without her blankets, the cold flames licking over her again.

Gojo covered her again in an instant, his thumb pressing once to her shoulder, directly atop a whorl
of ice.

“Move over.”

“What?”

Gojo sighed, exasperated, and touched his thumb back to her shoulder, using a gentle pressure to
nudge her flat onto her futon. Her stomach did another, fiercer flip as he maneuvered himself,
slipping slowly down beside her, tugging the blankets up and over both of them.

“Gojo,” Utahime breathed, wondering if he could hear the heavy thud of her heart.

He had positioned himself carefully, not quite touching her but close enough that she could feel the
promise of his warmth, the hint of his skin against hers. The swirls of ice on her body tightened,
like they were angry at his proximity, making her grit her teeth.

“Come here,” Gojo said, his voice steady.

Utahime blinked, swallowing, and once again realized she had already given in, the decision
already made.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Gojo grunted softly, and hesitated only for an instant before scooting closer to her, sliding one arm
beneath her back and the other over her shoulders, urging her body into the shape of his. Utahime
let him, a quiet sound of sheepish contentment breaking out of her throat as she settled into him, her
elbow crooking around his waist, her cheek against his chest. She pressed her lips together before
another sound could sneak out between them, surprise and something else flaring in her belly as
she realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

She shuddered as his warmth cut cleanly through the ice, the tightness of the swirls easing
somewhat.

“This helped,” Gojo said thoughtfully, his chin atop her head. “Last time.”

“Yes,” Utahime spoke into his chest, remembering how he had held her when he'd taken her to the
morgue and the instance of relief against the cold that she had experienced.

“But reversed-curse technique didn’t work,” he mused, his abdomen tensing when she shuddered
again.

Utahime shook her head, sliding her arm further around his waist, the pads of her fingers on his
spine. Her mind felt blissfully quiet, her thoughts for once silent, everything calm in the wake of
his embrace.

Another troubling prospect, Utahime thought, a singular worry breaking through the tranquility in
her mind before it fizzled slowly away.

There was a silence in the dark, softly peaceful as Gojo began to stroke shapes on her back, his
fingers crossing over the paths of the ice. Utahime couldn’t help another noise of contentment, and
she felt Gojo’s abdomen tense again, his breath catching at the sound. The waves of frozen flames
gradually lessened, but the icy tendrils remained. She could feel them, still intricately wound
across her body, still deeply cold.

“Any ideas?” Utahime said after a while had passed, only half-joking.

Gojo chuckled, a low rumble that she felt as it rose through his chest.

“A couple. Or—one.”

She edged slightly back from him in mild astonishment, tilting her head so she might see the
shadow of his face.

“Really?”

Gojo’s teeth flashed in the dark as he grinned.

“Only a hunch,” he said, sounding familiarly mischievous. “And you won’t like it.”

Utahime frowned at him, unsure as to whether he was teasing or not.

“I won’t?”

Gojo was silent, a long moment passing before he answered.

“No,” he said carefully. “But I’ve been wrong before. Occasionally.”

“ All the time,” Utahime muttered, disgruntled.

Gojo chuckled again, the sound making Utahime flush because there was a thread of fondness
woven in.

“I might,” she said softly, after his laughter had faded, wondering what they were truly discussing.

“You might what?”

Utahime thought she could hear her heart thudding again, each beat cracking some of the ice that
covered her.

“Like it,” she breathed.

The faint glitter of blue that she could see shuttered as Gojo closed his eyes. His fingers on her
back stopped their slow tracing, the tips of them pressing into her through the cotton of her shirt.

“Would you?” he asked slowly, sounding suddenly serious, the last of his mischief slipping away.

Utahime nodded before she could hesitate, a wave of something tremulous making her chest ache.

She heard Gojo’s inhale, a quick hold before he let the breath out again. He inched closer to her,
and she felt the stretchy fabric of the pants he was wearing rub against her thighs.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Hime, really?”

“Yes,” Utahime whispered back, the word feeling heavy as it left her tongue.

Her back arched as the ice burned again, and she gasped through a surge of pain before the flames
settled back into the dull, winding coldness.

She lifted her gaze to Gojo’s face, feeling exhausted as she shivered.

“What’s the hunch?”

Gojo cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders. One of his hands left her back, and he touched his
thumb and forefinger to her chin in a light grip. The blue glitter of his eyes deepened as he looked
at her, a gradual darkening.

“This is a mark,” he murmured, dragging his thumb along the line of one of the swirls of ice by her
jaw, the frost that only he could see.

Utahime drew her eyebrows together, tucking her lip between her teeth to keep herself from leaning
into his touch.

“Gojo—“

“Can I try something?”

His voice hitched, a hint of roughness layering in. And Utahime nodded, the tremulous ache in her
chest tugging again. Gojo made a quiet sound in his throat, and he eased slightly back from her,
pulling his other hand from her back, propping himself up onto his elbow. His fingers on her jaw
stroked one more line before they moved to brush some of her hair over her shoulder, and Utahime
felt her eyes widen, her breath stuttering.

“Keep still.”

Utahime exhaled an agreement, so quiet that she barely heard herself. He leaned slowly over her,
and Utahime swallowed a whimper as she felt the ghost of his breath tingle across her cheek, a soft
warmth. A cross-section of ice flared over the pulse point on her neck, freezing further in rebellion.

“What are you doing?” she breathed, feeling her eyes flutter.

“Just keep still.”

Utahime felt an argument rise up, a habitual rebuttal—and then it died before she could speak,
something else that fizzled gradually away into the blanketing quietness. Gojo studied her for a
moment before he slid his thumb over her neck, finding her pulse, the place where the ice had
frozen only moments before. Utahime fluttered her eyes shut, wondering if she was still dreaming
as Gojo's thumb made another pass over her before he slowly pulled his hand away. She felt his
breath again, her lips parting at the pleasant sensation of it, and then she felt him adjust his
position, the length of his body shifting as he dipped his head, and touched his mouth gently to her
throat.

There was a pause, a moment during which the press of Gojo's lips was chaste, hesitant, only a
glimmer of heat amongst the cold. The ice wrapped around her body seared before it calmed
slightly, as if it were confused, and Gojo made a quiet sound like he’d felt the motion of it, his
mouth still on her. Utahime could hear herself breathing, a rhythm in her ears that was beginning to
turn unsteady, and she could feel a tension in Gojo’s muscles, everything tight.

A pause, a moment of stillness.

And then Gojo's fingers threaded into her hair, and he tugged her head to the side with a grip that
made her earlier whimper slide up and out of her as a fierce thrill heated her body. His lips dragged
against her skin as he opened his mouth, and Utahime's neck arched helplessly up, her head
pushing back into her pillow as Gojo licked a slow circle over her pulse, her heartbeat a heavy
throb against his tongue. She felt confusion, bewilderment in the face of rapidly building arousal as
some of the freezing ice began to melt, and Gojo made a ragged sound before he pressed his mouth
harder against her, suckling against her neck.

The patch of ice beneath his lips spiked, cracking, and then dissolved entirely, a spot of blistering
warmth in the midst of all the cold.

“Satoru,” Utahime gasped, a wild recklessness urging her eyes open.

Gojo exhaled thickly against her, pulling his mouth away but only by an inch.

“It’s a mark,” he said, his voice low, weighed down by an emerging awareness. “But—when I
leave some of my own—“

He raised his head, his eyes flickering to hers as something portentous sank through the depths of
the blue. Utahime wasn’t sure what she felt as she stared back at him. Devastated and thrilled, she
thought, realizing she could see him clearer now, the sky outside beginning to lighten to the grey of
the very early morning. Utahime watched, captivated as his cheeks slowly flushed, a faint pink that
worked down to his jaw, his lips slightly swollen.

It made her heart race, some kind of awareness curling within her too, and she reached for him,
sliding her fingers into his hair, a softness that, frustratingly, she had always wanted to feel.

Gojo blinked, and leaned into her touch for a moment, his breath shortening. And then he smiled
again, and he held her gaze as he bent back down to her, his mouth finding another swirl of cold at
the hollow of her throat. He wasn’t hesitant this time, groaning softly as he licked over the ice,
biting carefully down after the thaw. Utahime gripped his hair, and she could not help the moan
that slipped from her when he sucked again, a twin mark to accompany the first.

Gojo pressed his lips to the underside of her chin, making Utahime jolt.

“Fuck.”

His voice was muffled as he spoke into her, and he tipped his head again to see her face. His
eyelashes fluttered, his gaze hooded as he looked back at her. Utahime felt her belly tighten at this
visual, her teeth setting into her lip.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed, feeling almost as if she could laugh. “Please.”

She heard another groan build in his throat, quiet and deep with realization, and it surprised her
because she had expected a joke, a teasing jibe. His eyelashes fluttered again, a bright white that
framed the blue, and Gojo laughed in the way that Utahime had nearly done herself, helpless and
slightly rough; too revealing, too vulnerable, to be teasing.

“I don't want to stop," Gojo said, in a tone that matched his laugh. "Hime."

And as he let his eyes wander over her once more, seeking the ice that she could not see, Utahime
wondered if she would ever again be able to lock her thoughts safely away. The key, she realized,
had always been white and blue.

***
more to come <3
 Chapter 2

Well, I'm over a week late for the GoUta week prompt, BUT HERE WE ARE. ENJOY <3

***

Gojo looked at her for a long moment, his eyes roaming over her. They were almost mirroring each
other, Utahime realized, letting herself gaze up at him. She was gripping his hair, and Gojo was
gripping hers. Her thumb was over his temple, and his was by her ear. Utahime felt a strange
satisfaction glimmer within her at this, although she could not say why. It felt nice, she thought,
considering it. Symmetrical. It made her think again of the fleeting hope that she had already
classified as far-fetched—the idea that perhaps, just maybe, the feelings she had for him were not
unreturned.

A little disastrous excitement began to curl in her, and Utahime found, as she had suspected, that it
was impossible to lock the thought away once she had given it purchase in her mind. Not when the
deep blue of Gojo’s gaze was trained so intently upon her, not when her fingers were wrapped in
the soft white of his hair.

Not when she could still feel the imprint of his mouth on her skin, two spots of blazing warmth that
shook at the strands of ice that covered her.

Gojo was the first to move, but only a little as his fingers slid out from her hair and down the side
of her face, his thumb pressing to a whorl of frost that burned at the very edge of her jaw beneath
her earlobe. Utahime shivered, because the pad of his thumb was rough and warm, and it
contrasted sharply with the ice. Gojo’s eyes flared at her movement, and slowly, watching her, he
slid his thumb along the line of the ice, following the path of the whorl as it curved down towards
her chin, and up to the other side of her face.

Utahime made a small, uneven sound, her breath hitching, and she saw another flare in Gojo’s
eyes. A slight tremor rocked his hand. He studied her face, and her excitement wobbled because
his cheeks were still slightly flushed, his lips still swollen.

“It’s all over you, Hime,” he said carefully, as if he were waiting for her to realize the meaning.
“It’s everywhere.”

Utahime felt her hair bunch against her pillow as she nodded at him, the meaning already
understood.

Gojo’s tongue touched to the corner of his lips, and his hand left her face to grasp her wrist, a
gentle grip as he eased her fingers out of his hair. Utahime felt anxiety pull, something sinking
through the arousal and tremulous excitement that had built in her body. She wondered nervously if
she had gone a step too far in touching him so intimately, but Gojo only sat up beside her, letting
her hand fall onto her futon as he tugged the blankets that covered them out of the way.

She shivered, a wave of heavy cold washing over at being uncovered, and her heart made an
unsteady beat against her ribs as Gojo shifted onto his knees, his hair falling over his eyes as he
tilted his head down to her.
“I don’t know how this works,” he said slowly, his eyes roaming over her again.

Utahime laughed softly, some of her nervousness slipping away. She looked down at herself, her t-
shirt that was still bunched around her thighs, her skin that looked unmarked save for the two on
her neck.

“Neither do I.”

Gojo cracked a grin, his eyes lighting.

“Hell of a curse, though,” he said, in the familiar, teasing way that made her feel warm all over
despite the ice. “Really doing me a favor, isn’t it?”

Utahime thought she caught, in the instance before she threw her pillow at him, a thread of
seriousness, something tangible, buried into the lightness of his tone. She thought it was there too
amongst his laugh, which broke out of him the moment her pillow left her hand. Gojo swung an
arm out to snatch it smoothly out of the air as she had known he would, the fingers of his free hand
landing on her thigh to keep his balance. More of her nerves slipped, suddenly unable to occupy
her mind as a feeling stirred in her belly.

Gojo’s laughter faded to a smile as he settled back solidly onto his knees, her pillow still clutched
in one hand. His eyes found her face, and Utahime saw his smile shift, slowly softening to the
affectionate curl that she sometimes coaxed out of him. Her heart made another unsteady beat in
her chest, and Gojo’s smile grew, his hand on her thigh squeezing gently.

He did it once more, another slight squeeze, before his eyes widened, flicking quickly down like he
had not noticed where he was touching her, or perhaps that it was bare skin beneath the heat of his
palm. Gojo’s smile did another shift, his lips parting, and he leaned slowly to the side, setting her
pillow to the floor.

Utahime stiffened as he moved, hissing out a breath as everything flared cold, her body slow to
relax after the wave. Gojo pressed his fingers harder into her, his eyes glinting with a sudden
sharpness.

“I don’t know how this works,” he said again, a new edge roughening his voice, something
different from the sleepy rasp it had been before. “But—“

He paused, rubbing a circle on her thigh with his thumb. Utahime trembled, a helpless little shake
that she knew revealed too much, and she grit her teeth to steady herself.

Gojo’s lips twitched, and he rubbed another circle on her thigh before he slid his fingers to her
hand, pulling to urge her upright. It hurt, a surge of cold making her gasp. She saw a flash like
lightning in Gojo’s eyes, but he said nothing as his fingers slipped from hers, the tips of them
grasping the hem of her shirt as he raised his eyebrows at her in silent question.

Utahime bit her lip, looking at him through a slight haze and wondering for a brief moment if she
was dreaming. But she raised her arms above her head anyway, and she felt the brush of Gojo’s
knuckles against her skin as he pulled her shirt up and over her head. Her eyes slipped closed as it
fluttered to the floor.

She heard Gojo’s chuckle, mildly irksome at the same time that it made her ache a little because it
was more breathless than usual, a little ragged. It cleared her mind somewhat, a small piece of
familiarity that Utahime latched onto, letting the sound pull her eyes open and her gaze to him. She
felt oddly steady, even in her almost-complete nakedness, unclothed but for her underwear.
“Shit.” Gojo breathed out a long breath, his eyes moving from the lightest blue to something
deeper before curling back again, a whirling storm. “Utahime.”

The soft curl to his lips returned, the slight flush on his cheeks extending back down to his jawline.

He looked at her face for a moment, and his expression turned to something Utahime had not seen
on him before, the thread of seriousness she had picked up on earlier thickening. He slid his eyes
down as his hand reached up, two of his fingers pressing to her shoulder as he looked at her.
Utahime’s nerves returned, little spirals jumping in her belly at Gojo’s silent study of her body.

She saw him find the swirls of ice, his gaze following patterns she could only feel, and she saw his
focus slip halfway through, a cloud coming into his eyes when they lingered on the curve of her
hips, her nipples that were peaked. He swore again, a rough whisper that made Utahime clench her
fists in another attempt to steady herself.

Gojo pressed his fingers more firmly into her collarbone before he stroked along the length of it,
his eyes flickering as her skin jumped at his touch.

Utahime wondered suddenly, as Gojo’s fingers brushed over her collarbone once more, if this
would be something irreparable; a severance of the playful, irritating friendship she had with him.
She felt confused at the question, because she wasn’t sure she had ever truly classified Gojo as a
friend, the nature of their relationship often feeling ambiguous rather than certain. She had always
been hypnotized by him, Utahime realized, another feeling stirring in her belly.

She had never been able to look away.

“It’s blue,” Gojo said slowly, his eyes tracking a curve of ice that burned over her stomach. “The
curse.”

He tilted his head, his eyebrows drawing together. He opened his mouth, and seemed to realize
something before he spoke, another cloud floating across his eyes.

“It looks like—“

Utahime felt color flood her cheeks as Gojo let the end of his sentence fall into silence. Her legs
jerked slightly, and she felt the soft material of Gojo’s pants rub against her thigh, unintentionally
brushing against him.

Blue like his eyes, she remembered. The curse had been blue like his eyes.

Gojo eased out another breathless chuckle, soft rather than teasing, and Utahime again experienced
the feeling of her nerves slowly slipping away.

“Is it?”

Gojo nodded, and he blinked slowly, scrutinizing her own eyes. Utahime felt something twist in her
stomach as Gojo’s expression brightened in the way it did when he made a connection, or had
figured something out.

“Interesting,” he said quietly, barely louder than a whisper.

Gojo let this sentence fall away as he had done the last, clearing his throat to cover the silence.

He pulled his focus from her eyes after a moment, sliding his fingers across her shoulder and down
her arm, wrapping them around her wrist. He lifted her hand up by his face, gently uncurling her
fingers from their fist as he examined her. Everything felt serious suddenly; Gojo’s touch too warm,
too solid, to be a dream. Utahime wondered if he could feel the quickness of her pulse as he
squeezed her slightly, his thumb on the inner curve of her wrist.

Another shiver wracked through her, goosebumps rippling over her skin, across her shoulders,
down to her breasts. Gojo’s nostrils flared, more lightning flashing in his eyes as he slid them back
to her face.

“Did you kill it?”

He spoke in a way that made more goosebumps ripple, her body recognizing the threat buried in
the darkness of his voice. Utahime nodded, recalling how the curse had exploded, a burst of blue
before it had slowly dissolved.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he muttered, his voice still dark.

She saw the tension in Gojo’s jaw as he tipped his head forward, but his lips were soft as he
pressed them over the place where her pulse thrummed. His eyelashes fell down slowly, his gaze
heavy as he opened his mouth against her, his tongue making a quick circle over her skin. Utahime
shuddered, because it felt the same as it had on her neck, a blistering warmth that shrank at the ice,
forcing it to nothing. It was the sweetest relief, immediate and consuming as Gojo sucked gently
before licking up her palm, a line across the middle.

More ice dissolved, a spiderweb disappearing to nothing against his tongue.

Gojo made a noise of satisfaction that Utahime echoed, disbelief brimming that this— the glide of
his warm mouth over her skin, of all things, forced the cold so thoroughly away.

Utahime met his gaze, still hooded and heavy, and he paused briefly, his thumb resting on her
palm. She realized suddenly how quiet it was as she looked at him, her bedroom silent but for the
sound of their breathing, Gojo’s as quick as her own.

“Cold?” Gojo broke the silence softly, stroking his thumb over her palm, her skin slick from his
tongue.

Utahime nodded, too frozen, too stunned, to speak.

He flipped her hand over, and stroked over her once more before gripping two of her fingers, the
storm in his eyes whirling again as he surveyed them. He laughed once, a little dark mischief
alighting, and Utahime felt shock and desire, more disbelief and something wilder fizz in her belly
as Gojo flicked his eyes up to hers, his smile faltering as he slid her fingers smoothly into his
mouth.

“Fuck,” she breathed, shuddering as another wave of the deepest relief washed over her, a fierce
tightness building between her legs.

Her body tensed and relaxed as Gojo made a hollow for her fingers on his tongue, sliding them
deeper as he sucked gently. She felt the vibration against her skin as he groaned, and Utahime
could not tell if it was her eyes or his that fluttered at the sound, his knees pressing into her thigh as
he scooted closer to her.

Gojo lifted his mouth from her before lowering it quickly back, making another hollow on his
tongue for her ring and pinkie fingers, sucking at the ice until it faded away. A heavier warmth
settled, something palpable that almost made her whimper as Gojo swirled his tongue over her
thumb, freeing her hand completely from the ice.

She began to worry, small anxieties splintering through her disbelieving bliss as Gojo trailed his
lips up her arm, his eyes on hers as he worked at the ice. She felt the relief of it, a shimmering
goodness as the ice melted, his expression something she couldn’t read. She tried to decipher it as
she looked back at him, ensnared by the vision of him as he licked over her forearm.

The intimacy of the moment seemed to hit her all at once—his mouth on her body, her semi-
nakedness, his own similar state of undress.

It’s everywhere, Hime. It’s all over you.

She had not hesitated to acknowledge the meaning of Gojo’s statement only moments ago, but it hit
her now in a new light, entangling her mind. She wondered again if this would mean a friendship
ended, something irreparable. Confusion felt like a thick sludge, a sadness in her thoughts that
quickly evaporated, the gap filled by more disastrous excitement as Gojo leaned closer to her,
pressing his lips to her shoulder.

She whimpered, both in pain and in pleasure as the thick tendril of ice beneath his mouth fractured
and disappeared, the other swirls on her body searing her skin in protest. She could feel his breath
ghosting over her neck, his eyes still storming as he eased slightly back from her. She saw him look
down over her, another slow study of her body—her abdomen that was tightly clenched, the curve
of her breasts, her underwear that was slightly askew over her hips.

Utahime made the same study of him, an emotion settling in her as she let herself truly look. She
thought, feeling suddenly sure, that the emotion might be joy, her eyes taking in the broad set of his
shoulders, the grace in the slant of his hips, the lines of his obliques, the scant trail of white hair
that led down from his navel. She made a small sound, her blood feeling suddenly very hot as it
rushed through her because he was hard, the stretchy fabric of his pants pulled taut for his erection.

Gojo did not make any effort to hide himself from her as she looked, but instead shifted in a way
that made the band of his pants slip a little lower on his hips. She made another sound at seeing
more of him, the line of hair trailing from his navel tapering outwards, growing slightly thicker as
it neared the base of his cock.

Utahime’s eyes flew up to his face, and she saw that more of his hair had fallen over his eyes,
white over blue. She saw his eyelashes flutter through the strands.

“Jesus. Hime—“

Utahime shuddered, gasping as the ice flared cold, fire skittering across her skin. Gojo’s eyebrows
knit together, and she saw more lightning flash in his eyes, a crackling threat.

“You killed it?” he asked again, his voice like the deepest shadow.

The movement of her nod was slow, her muscles tight, but Gojo didn’t seem to relax at her second
confirmation.

“With what? Tell me.”

“A knife,” Utahime breathed, a little frightened by the sudden depth to her arousal and a quiet
anger that was etching into his face, his darkly clouded eyes, his hard voice.

She glanced to the corner of her bedroom, spotting the leather-bound handle of her cursed tool
propped against the wall. Gojo followed her gaze, and she saw a slight relaxation pull at his body.
His eyes flashed back to hers.

“I’ll get the rest,” he murmured, a low promise. “I’ll make you feel better, Hime.”

“Satoru,” Utahime whispered, hoping that he, unlike herself, would know what she wanted to say.

She saw Gojo’s body jerk as his fingers reached out to grip the bend of her elbow. His jaw
softened, a hint of a secret peace edging into the anger in his expression, his eyes still fixed on
hers.

It seemed to happen naturally, easily. Gojo’s fingers left her elbow to curve around her cheek
instead as she whispered his name again, his thumb over her scar. And as if she were watching the
whole thing in the mirror, a reflection of her own desire in the storm in Gojo’s eyes, Utahime made
the same motion, lifting her hand so that her palm settled on his cheek.

Would it be something irreparable? Utahime saw two paths stretch out before her, twining together
and swirling, each feeling as likely as the other. One was frigid, cold, a friendship severed, a
playfulness lost to something more awkward and distant. And then the other, equally petrifying
option—a beginning, something forged anew.

She thought Gojo could see the paths too, the clouds in his eyes missing nothing, everything
revealed under his gaze. Utahime tried out of habit to lock everything away, all her errant thoughts,
the wanting. It was a useless effort, fruitless as Gojo looked at her, as he traced his thumb over her
scar, stroking thin flakes of ice.

Would it be something irreparable?

Utahime wasn’t sure it was a conscious decision or rather something that simply happened, Gojo’s
body drifting into hers as if pulled by the tide, and hers into his. Her fingers were still damp from
his mouth as they curved around his cheek, and she could feel the faint sensation of his breath
against her lips now rather than her neck. The clouds in his eyes darkened further into a furious,
roiling hurricane, and then they slowly closed, white lashes joining together as he bent to receive
her kiss.

She had expected softness, caution, perhaps something hesitant even though so much had already
happened, her t-shirt flung away and her almost-naked body so close to his. But Gojo, as he tended
to do even after years of knowing him, surprised her as he grunted quietly against her lips, a little
forceful push of his mouth as he leaned into her.

Utahime gasped, wondering why she felt bewildered at liking this after all her years of wanting,
and the excitement in her belly sparked up through her body as Gojo slid his thumb to her chin, an
insistent press until she opened her mouth to him. She felt the deep, fracturing relief as the curls of
frost on her lips melted away, the ice on her body trembling and shrinking, fleeing from his kiss.

Gojo broke from her suddenly, his eyes as wide and dark as hers felt, his breath rapid and uneven.
His thumb was still on her chin, her palm on his cheek. He licked once over his lips while he stared
at hers, and Utahime felt heart do a flip in her chest, her blood rushing again, as Gojo glanced up to
her eyes. She saw him take a deep breath, air passing slowly out between his lips.

“Shit.”

He moved before she could see it, and she registered the pleasing roughness of his palms on her
ribs, the small calluses at the bases of his fingers rubbing against her skin as he tugged her sharply
forward into him. He fell backwards off his knees, letting her body tip his, a heavy thud as his back
slammed against her floor. The sound of the impact rattled through her, but Gojo seemed to have
felt none of it as he yanked her overtop him, parting her thighs with his own so that she straddled
him.

Her heart pounded, her blood rushing again as he slotted his lips back with hers, forceful again, his
tongue pushing into her mouth as he held her body firmly against his.

Utahime felt electrified, craving more of his roughness, his urgency resonating. Her thoughts ran
freely, a race in her synapses as Gojo sucked at her tongue, melting the spiderweb of frost
imprinted in the center. She realized, pushing back into his kiss with equal force, that she wanted
everything from him—she wanted to feel his body move with hers, she wanted to hear him groan in
pleasure. She wanted to feel him inside her, and she wanted to give herself to him. She wanted him
to smile at her in the secret, affectionate way that she liked so much, and she wanted to make him
laugh in the way that irritated her, a grating echo that tugged at her heart.

It made her tremble a little, her mind aching at the awareness as Gojo’s mouth moved from hers,
finding a tender spot on her neck. Another spiderweb of frost faded away as he replaced it with a
mark of his own, his teeth sinking into her, gentle but sharp. She threaded her fingers into his hair
and she heard Gojo swear, his lips pausing on her neck, his forehead resting against her cheek.

“Hime—“

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded softly, leaning into him, pressing her tits to his chest.

“I don’t want to stop,” he said quickly, sliding his hands over her in a way that felt selfish, his
palms skimming over her ass and along the thick swirls of ice imprinted on her spine. “I want—“

She felt his fingers clasp in the middle of his sentence, meeting behind her back. The world folded
in an instant, her bedroom disappearing to be replaced a short second later with a different room,
Gojo’s body still slotted with hers as they landed on top of something soft.

It was another bedroom, and the thing they had landed on top of was a mattress, her knees sinking
into the fibers of it rather than rubbing against her floor. The room smelled familiar, like Gojo and
wood polish, making her think of her youth and staff meetings on Saturday mornings. She turned
her head to the side, seeing sparse, school-issued furniture, a large jacket slung over a chair in one
corner. A phone was haphazardly balanced on the nightstand beside the bed, like it had been set
there in a hurry. The blankets beneath her knees were gathered together in a twist, all shoved to one
side, and she pictured how Gojo might’ve thrown them out of the way to get to her in the dark.

“Here.” Gojo’s voice was hoarse as he spoke into her ear. “I want to do this here.”

It was his room, Utahime realized, a tentative happiness swimming up through her stomach. She
turned her head back towards him so that her lips were by his own ear, a small confessional.

“Why?”

“Because,” he said softly, as if this was a sufficient enough explanation.

He breathed slowly out before he thrust his hips up into her, his cock pressing against her through
her underwear. Utahime shuddered, realizing how wet she was, and then grit her teeth at the
sudden, angry flare of cold, the swirls of ice on her body furious at being momentarily forgotten
amongst the urgency of her desire.

Gojo stiffened beneath her, a little edge coming into the sound of his breath, and he rolled them
slowly, settling her back against his mattress as he rose up to his knees between her thighs. His
expression was fierce, tight and angry, but his fingers were gentle as he tugged her arm that was
still frozen up to his face.

He smiled in the way she liked, a gentle curl of his lips softening his mouth before he touched his
lips to her knuckles. It was an instant relief, a flood of warmth across her hand that made her press
her head back into his pillows, her back arching. She felt Gojo’s smile shift against her skin, and he
did the same thing that had shocked her before, hollowing his tongue as he slid two of her fingers
into his mouth. He sucked, making her moan, a gasp of pain cutting through as the ice on the rest
of her body froze further, sinking deeper.

“Tell me what happened,” he murmured, his voice a shadow again, the sharpness of a threat
glinting.

His eyes caught the light of the rising sun, gold and blue mixing together as he began to work his
way down her arm, licking over the delicate bones of her wrist.

“Tell me, Hime.”

“It was—so blue,” Utahime whispered, remembering the entrancing undulating of the curse’s
tentacles, a blue so electric, so breathtaking, that she hadn’t been able to look away.

Gojo bent forward as he trailed his lips up her arm, kissing the inside of her elbow, biting her
bicep. He left a mark, a small bruise over a criss-cross of ice, a satisfied gleam in his eyes when it
melted away.

“And it touched you?”

“Yes.”

Gojo stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, biting again at her bicep before letting her arm
fall back onto his mattress, no longer frozen.

“Where?” he asked a little savagely, his eyes sliding over her body.

He flicked his gaze up to hers, the storm in his eyes swirling like he already knew the answer.

“Everywhere,” Utahime whispered, feeling a little breathless as Gojo lowered himself to her, his
head dipping as he pressed his mouth to her sternum.

A chaste kiss, only a soft press of his lips.

“Tell me how you killed it. I want to know.”

His voice was rough as his mouth moved against her skin, another press of his lips that shook at
the whorl of ice curling down between her breasts.

“I—“

Utahime’s voice faded into a gasp, her hand cupping the back of Gojo’s head as he slid his mouth
to her breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth. He swirled his tongue, carefully teasing, biting
gently before swirling his tongue again.

“Hime. Tell me how you killed it.”

“It caught me.” Utahime whimpered softly as Gojo licked a trail to her other breast, his thumb
brushing once over her nipple before his mouth took its place. “It had tentacles—

“What did you do to it? How did you free yourself?”

“It wasn’t…right,” Utahime breathed through her teeth as Gojo sucked at her breast above her
nipple. He bit over the mark he left, tendrils of ice cracking in the wake. “So cold. And it was just
blue, no—“

“No what?” he interrupted sharply, his chin pressing into her chest as he looked up at her.

“No white,” Utahime said softly, staring at the beauty of him.

She thought she saw a softness creep into his eyes before he bent back down to touch his mouth to
her, sliding his tongue along the ice that made figure-eights across her stomach. Utahime arched
again, her fingers threading into his hair and gripping tight.

“It let me pull away,” she continued, her voice unsteady. Gojo’s hands slid over her ribs and down,
his long fingers wrapping around her hips. “So I used my cursed tool—“

Gojo bit over her navel, his tongue darting out to soothe the small hurt. The frost spiked and
crackled, a gradual dissolve.

“It was quick?” he rasped quietly against her, his thumbs pressing into the hollows of her hips.

“Yes.”

He made a rumbling noise of disappointment, a quick anger as the sun shone in through his
windows, illuminating him in a soft golden light. He kissed the soft skin of her belly once before
he slid his fingers purposefully down, bending them around the band of her underwear. His lips
were on her belly again, his tongue tracing over a line of ice, when she heard a ripping sound, and
felt the fabric of her underwear cut into her skin before it was torn away, scraps of it hanging
loosely over her hips.

Her body jumped, quivering in excitement and nervousness as Gojo’s hooded gaze lifted slowly
back up to hers.

“That’s a shame,” he muttered, the roughened edge in his voice slightly darker. His eyes flicked
down to her cunt, his exhale slow. “I would’ve taken my time with it.”

Utahime hitched out a shaking, trembling laugh, watching as the clouds in Gojo’s eyes seemed to
split at the sound, the blue clear and pure, wild and bright. They fluttered closed, his face still for a
moment as the flicker of peace she had seen earlier in his expression manifested once more
amongst the sharpness of his features. She felt him urge her thighs slightly further apart, his hands
lifting them easily up and onto his shoulders.

“Satoru—“

The feelings that had stirred in her belly before seemed to shimmer all throughout her now, a
jumble of emotions that she wanted to put words to. She wondered suddenly if Gojo could see them
as they articulated within her, luminous as they felt, perceptive as he was. But Gojo left his eyes
closed, his face still peaceful as he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. He opened his mouth, a gentle
bite to melt the tendrils of ice that had joined together to form a thick coil that curled over her thigh
to her ass, winding down her leg and around her ankle, spreading over her toes. It worked, the coil
shivering and shaking beneath his lips, burning and then slowly melting, the deep cold slipping to
warmth. He repeated his action, mirroring it on the other side, and Utahime sighed, a tightness in
her body relaxing.

She could feel the ice that remained, a heavy ridge on her spine that unfurled over her shoulders
and the back of her neck, and the small smattering of snowflakes that covered her cheeks like
freckles. They stung obstinately, stubbornly frozen when the rest of her body had been freed.

Gojo’s eyes cracked open, glowing like the first light of day as he looked at her. He was silent but
seemed to speak with the small wavers in his expression, sometimes a storm, sometimes a deep
peace.

It was natural, simple. Easy.

Gojo’s hands were firm on her hips as he tugged her down onto him, the sheets sliding against her
back. Utahime jolted, a whimper in her throat as the warmth of his mouth touched her clit, two
kisses, one after the other. She pulled a little roughly at his hair, lifting her head off of the pillows
to better see him—his head wedged tightly between her thighs, his eyes back to an unrelenting
storm as he gazed up at her.

He was a slow tease, humming softly against her as his tongue moved in tight circles over her clit, a
deliberate pressure that made Utahime aware of how tightly wound she was, how badly she wanted
him. She could feel him losing his breath, his fingers pressing hard enough into her hips to bruise.
Utahime hoped she did bruise, wanting the small reminders of this pleasure as Gojo groaned
against her cunt, a sweet melody.

Her heels pressed into his back, her thighs trapping his head, and she thought she could not even
feel the ice anymore, the burning on her spine and cheeks unnoticeable, unimportant as Gojo slid a
finger inside her, a slow, long thrust. Utahime gasped, a wave of satisfaction rolling upwards at the
fullness, her thighs trembling against him, her fingers in his hair. She saw a feeling fall through his
eyes, more softness glimmering in his peace and in his storm as he curled his finger inside her,
thrusting deep.

Everything began to build to a peak, a slow and carefully wrought pleasure that made Utahime
wonder where his roughness had gone, remembering the sound of him falling back against her
floor, the selfish glide of his hands over her body.

She realized again that she wanted everything from him, the peace and the storm, the gentleness
and the roughness around the edges, clutching at his finger as he fucked her with it, his tongue still
making tight circles over her clit. She felt the quickening of orgasm, a tight sensation beginning to
gather deep in her belly. The feeling in Gojo’s eyes brightened, turning palpably sharp as he
watched her, his tongue flattening against her clit. She trembled, gasping softly, her thumbs on his
temples.

And then the world tipped, her hair whipping out around her, the sights of Gojo’s room blurring as
she was flipped suddenly onto her stomach.

Utahime’s breath slid through her without substance, her body confused, pleasure too close for her
to properly think, the absence of Gojo’s mouth on her clit making her bite the pillows she’d been
thrown into.

“Not yet,” Gojo said from somewhere behind her.

His voice was unreadable, hard but soft, kind but furious. He pressed his fingers into her ass,
tugging her back onto her knees, her palms falling flat against his sheets. Utahime twisted her head
over to look her shoulder at him, knowing her eyes were widened, soft sensation still unfolding
through her body.

“Not until I’m done,” Gojo murmured, sliding two fingers along the length of her spine, over the
thick ridge of ice, the last frost. “Not until I’m inside you.”

Utahime felt a moan slip out of her, her mind suddenly filled with the visual. She stared at him, his
parted, slick lips, the graceful shape of his torso and the muscles that lined his abdomen, the thick
shape of his erection in his pants.

“Fuck,” Gojo bit out, a new, sensual deepness weaving into his unreadable voice. “Keep doing
that.”

“Keep doing what?” Utahime breathed, her words punctuated by a gasp as he trailed his fingers
along her spine again, his thumb following a swirl of ice that spiraled out over her ribs.

“Keep looking at me like that.”

Utahime wondered if he knew that she had always looked at him like this, or at least that she had
always wanted to. She thought back to how she always was sure to keep her eyes trained forward in
meetings and her blushes hidden, her thoughts locked safely away.

She settled her chin on her shoulder, gazing steadily back at him, feeling the want bloom on her
face. Gojo closed his eyes briefly, the first smile touching his lips for a long while.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Like that.”

Utahime looked until he moved out of the orbit of her vision, tipping her head forward and down as
he bent into her. He curved his body into the shape of hers, his hips fitting neatly against her ass,
one hand resting over hers on his mattress and the other reaching around her to splay across her
belly, holding her securely to him. She felt the shape of his mouth, still slightly smiling as he
stamped a kiss to the base of her neck.

A soft, desperate moan of pleasure slipped from her lips as Gojo slid his tongue over her, the ice
slow to melt as he bit at the junction of her neck and shoulder, sucking hard to leave a mark. She
shook, overstimulated, the press of his body into hers feeling significant.

His hand on her belly traveled slowly up to cup her breast as he licked another curl of frost on her
neck. His thumb circled her nipple, and she wondered if she could come from this alone, hearing
Gojo chuckle softly when she trembled against him. A wave of flaming cold passed through her,
but it was feeble, weak, nearly defeated as Gojo moved his mouth over her, nudging her head
slightly to the side so he might lick up to her ear, his tongue on the shell of it.

“It’s brighter here,” he murmured, his breath tickling her, a warm wash against her ear.

He rocked his body into hers, a hint of friction that made her twist against him in search of more,
his thumb still circling her nipple.

“What?”

She heard him chuckle again, his teeth grazing against her earlobe. He rocked into her once more,
a slow thrust of his hips, and her exhale was shaky.

“The curse.”

His hand slid back down from her breast, over her ribs and past her belly, his fingers easing
between her legs.

“ Oh ,” Utahime gasped softly.

She remembered from a great distance how the residuals of the curse had seemed to linger behind
her ear before Shoko had healed her, a hidden spot of cold that had stung like the prick of a needle.

“I’ll get it,” Gojo assured her, rasping slightly as he stroked his thumb over her clit, his body
making another rocking motion into hers.

He nudged her head further to the side with his nose, and she felt his sigh, satisfaction zipping
through the corners of her body as he slid his finger back into her, a second joining the first. He
thrust deep, groaning low in his throat when she clutched at him, fucking her a little harder than
he’d done before.

“Don’t come,” he instructed quietly, licking over the shell of her ear again, rutting into her. “I want
to feel you on my cock first.”

Utahime shook, Gojo’s voice too low and rough, his fingers too long as they moved in her, for her
to be sure that she could obey his instruction. The visual burst into her mind again, an image made
clear because it was coupled with the sensation of his fingers inside her—how his eyes might focus
on her, a darkened gaze as he fucked her, the sound he might make when he came.

“Does that feel good?” he breathed. “My fingers inside you?”

He curled his tongue over the place beneath her ear, and a sharp bolt of heat shot down her spine,
the warmth spreading to the ice that curled outwards over her back and her shoulders. She felt the
reverberation of it on the snowflakes along her cheeks and a stray swirl of frost on her jaw.

“ Yes ,” Utahime whispered, biting the inside of her cheek as pleasure built again, her breath
coming in short gasps.

“Have you thought about it? This? With me?”

He licked again over the place beneath her ear, beckoning inside her, his thumb on her clit. She felt
the ice begin to crack, another bolt of heat shooting through her, everything melting, winter turning
to spring.

“Have you?”

“Yes,” Utahime choked out.

A blinding relief spread over her body as the ice fractured fully, the ridge on her spine turning to
small shards, the snowflakes on her cheeks melting away. Gojo groaned, a muffled sound as he
pressed his mouth into her, licking again before he suckled hard. She felt the bruising sensation, a
soft intensity on sensitive skin, his teeth grazing.

It seemed to happen in an instant, the last of the cold on her body shimmering to nothing as rapidly
as it had taken over her; a true, acute warmth articulating over her from within to replace it. It hurt,
an edge of pain making her hiss, as if the curse had not yet finished its work, her body too welcome
a host for the remnants of its energy. But Gojo pressed the flat of his tongue over the mark he’d
made, his breath gently calm as it blew over her, and the pain faded away too.

Utahime thought she might cry, realizing now how deeply cold she had been, how very frozen. She
felt briefly numb, shuddering, her body too hot after the thaw, and then everything settled, slowly
regulating, turning back to normal, no lingering pinpricks of frost.

She whimpered, because everything felt much more real suddenly, pleasure flooding through her at
her new warmth and at Gojo’s hips rocking a little roughly into hers, his fingers still fucking her.
She felt a tension leave his body, a relieved sigh brushing against her ear.

"Got it," he murmured, kissing her hair. "Cold?"

“No,” Utahime gasped, her body jerking, pleasure close. "Satoru—"

She felt the tipping, the world overturning and then reorienting itself right ways up, her back
arching against Gojo’s mattress instead of her knees pressing into it. Her hair fell loosely over her
shoulders, everything settling as her body slid back down the peak it had reached, not yet allowed
to topple over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck,” Utahime swore, moving restlessly, her fists grappling with the sheets, her toes curled,
her cunt clenching around nothing.

Gojo’s gaze flickered over her, his face unexpectedly tender as he watched her wrestle with the
sensations. He was kneeling between her legs again, his fingers tucking beneath the band of his
pants.

“Not until I’m inside you.”

He sounded almost distracted as he watched her, his eyes still a storm.

“You’ve thought about this? Me?” he asked again, a soft, hopeful curiosity layering into his voice.

Utahime nodded up at him, feeling herself flush as her heart raced from the weight of her
confession and a strange mixture of sexual frustration and gratification.

Gojo’s eyes glittered, a shudder making his shoulders shake.

“Good,” he said simply. “So have I.”

He kept his eyes on her as he maneuvered himself, slipping slowly out of his pants before he eased
back to his knees. Utahime watched, feeling overwhelmed as she took in his nakedness, his hard
cock, his beauty. He reached for her, two of his fingers slick as he wrapped his hands around her
legs just above the knee, drawing her fluidly into him. Her thighs layered over his as he dragged
her forward, his cock flush with her cunt.

Gojo paused, smiling in the soft, affectionate way, a little dark satisfaction edging in as he looked
at her—her legs spread for him, her color high with pleasure and warmth, marks from his own
mouth littered across her body rather than ice. Utahime felt herself smile tentatively back at him,
affection woven into the curve of her lips too.

His smile faltered, his hips stuttering, and he gripped her tighter in something like disbelief. He
laughed in a softened version of his usual way, the corners of his mouth deepening.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, Utahime.”

Gojo didn’t let his confession settle, but rather used the moment of her own disbelief to thrust into
her, his hips tilting forward.

“Oh shit,” he groaned, his abdomen clenching as he slid deep, a sweet stretching glide. “ Shit .”
Utahime made a sound like a sob, trembling already, her body feeling like it was coiled tight as a
spring. She watched his eyes, entranced by the glitter in them and the set of his mouth, his lips wet
and parted, a flush on his jaw. She looked to where they were joined, his body briefly stilling, his
cock fully seated inside her.

Everything.

“Let me feel it now,” Gojo breathed as he slowly withdrew, a satisfying drag against muscles that
were tensed around him. “Come with my cock inside you.”

He was not slow as he thrust back into her, an intent roll of his hips that made Utahime cry out, her
grip on his sheets tight enough to hurt. Gojo made a low, pleased sound as he fell into a rhythm, his
hands cupping the backs of her knees as he pushed her thighs against her chest, his gaze darting
between the slide of his cock into her and her eyes that were filled with unabashed want.

“Satoru,” Utahime stammered, feeling the shimmering sensation, a peak reached once more.
“Satoru—“

“Give it to me,” Gojo said roughly, his eyes wild and furious as he fucked into her hard. “Hime.”

Everything.

She felt her body stutter, everything contracting as he thrust, his hands behind her knees pushing
her legs wide. It was a breathless pleasure, a wave that ripped through her and stole her voice, her
neck arching and her eyes fluttering. She saw Gojo smile, a quick, fierce grin knifing across his
face before she felt him fall forward over her, his lips slotting with hers. He fucked her through it,
greedily taking her body for himself, groaning into her mouth.

“Holy fuck,” Gojo whispered against her lips as her legs hooked around his waist. “Fuck —“

Utahime locked her arms around his back, fighting to catch her breath as she shuddered, a slow
spiral back to earth. Gojo stilled for a moment, letting her settle, and then he rolled onto his back,
lifting her easily atop him and sheathing himself again before she could process his absence.

The clouds in his eyes suddenly split again, the bright light of a sunny day filling them rather than
the storm.

“Ride me,” he said in his quiet, instructing way. “Show me how you like to fuck.”

Utahime felt the shockwave of his words zip through her, her mind a little stunned at the vision of
him beneath her and the sensation of being full of him, almost too much, almost too big.

She had always thought about this.

She stretched her palms across his chest as he wrapped his hands around her hips, his expression
soft again. There was a slick sound, a little obscene noise as she rolled her hips, her cunt clutching
at him in a way that made him grunt. He grinned, flushing, and nodded in encouragement as she
did it again. The light in his eyes glittered as she slid her body forward over his, their abdomens
fitting together as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, one of her hands slipping beneath
his head.

She could hear the ragged sounds of his breath, and she tasted the faint salt of his skin as she
pressed her mouth to his jugular, his pulse a heavy throb against her lips. Gojo’s arms interlocked
around her back, holding her close as he fucked up into her in long, even strokes.
“Do it,” he rasped, guessing her intentions.

His voice was ragged and uneven, his hands gripping her tight. She felt him tremble slightly,
gasping in satisfaction as her body moved with his.

Wasn’t this a reflection of how this had started? Wasn’t this just like how it had begun? He had
pressed his lips to her throat, a blistering warmth amongst the ice.

Utahime licked a circle over his pulse, moaning softly because everything felt intense again,
pleasure building as Gojo fucked into her harder, her hips rolling with the rhythm of it. He gasped
out another breath, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head, pressing gently to urge her on.

She suckled against his skin, biting softly as her body began to tremble, sucking again as she tipped
over the edge. Gojo murmured in low appreciation as she came, pleased at her gratification, a
gentler wave this time, sweeter than the last had been.

Utahime pulled her face from the crook of his neck as her trembling eased, Gojo’s fingers stroking
through her hair, his body still moving with hers. She saw as if she were looking through a dream a
gentle redness on the side of his throat, a mark on the skin of someone who was supposed to be
untouchable.

“Look at me,” Gojo said as his rhythm began to falter, his voice rough as a clap of thunder.

Utahime met his eyes, crying out as he fucked into her hard, once more realizing—

Everything.

Soft sounds broke out of his throat, his hand cupping the side of her face, his eyes sometimes the
brightness of the morning and sometimes the clearness of midday, sometimes calm and sometimes
a storm.

“Utahime—“

“Give it to me,” she whispered, his words from earlier spilling out of her. “Satoru.”

He groaned, pressing his hand into the side of her face, shaking in a way she had never known him
to do before because was always so solid, so immovable. She watched, hypnotized by the sight of
his lips parting as he came inside her, his cum feeling hot as it spilt into her.

He urged her face down to his by the pressure of his hand on her cheek, his lips meeting hers
through the last aftershocks of his pleasure, the storm beginning to soothe.

Utahime pressed into his kiss, already trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts and feelings
welling up in her, wondering again, suddenly very sharply anxious, which path would be the one
next walked upon. She could see them, her two options—the loss of friendship and feelings on one
side, and the petrifying but desirable alternative on the other: a beginning, something forged anew,
a togetherness.

Gojo edged slightly back from her, not kissing her but leaving his mouth pressed to hers, sharing
her breath, holding her body in his arms.

“Utahime,” he breathed into her.

He slid his fingers from her cheek to stroke down her back, and Utahime knew he felt no frost on
her skin, her warmth complete.
“Yes?”

“I want this,” he said quietly, firmly. “Do you?”

Utahime quivered softly in his arms as the first pathway seemed to fall away, the alternative of
togetherness all that remained. She thought of a bright, electric blue, an entrancing undulating and
the burning cold—and she wondered if the curse had been made up of desires and secrets, longing
and pain, a deeply intimate burden to bear.

No wonder it had ensnared her no easily, no wonder it had hurt so much.

“Yes,” she answered steadily. “I do.”

She felt Gojo’s nod, his voice turning sleepy.

“Good.”

His cock was still seated inside her, softening slightly, his cum beginning to slide out of her body
and down onto his thighs beneath her. Gojo didn’t seem to care, and he made no move to withdraw
from her as his breathing turned deep and even, a calm slowly falling over them as he stroked down
her back again, his fingers making a shape.

She settled her face back into the crook of his neck, her lips over the mark that marred his skin.

“Sleep,” he murmured, sighing in heavy satisfaction. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“It is morning, you idiot,” Utahime said fondly.

She kissed his throat, and felt a little excitement bubble in her because Gojo sighed again in gentle
enjoyment of her touch.

“The afternoon then,” he said, sleepily rebutting. “Since you woke me up. Not very nice, Hime, to
call in the middle of the night.”

Utahime giggled softly because it all felt so familiar, his teasing, his playfulness. Gojo’s lips
pressed to the side of her cheek, and she felt the affectionate curve of his smile.

It was easy to fall asleep, wrapped up in him as she was, full of him still. And she knew, as she
slipped into a dreamless peace, that he would be there when she awoke, teasing and sweet,
infuriating and strong.

She had always thought about this.

***

as always, more to come <3