#because what if this feeling never goes away no matter what?

[yestrday]

: ̗̀➛ DESPERATION INCARNATE yan! xiao / gn! reader

in every life, he had sworn to protect you. in every life, he had failed. in this life, he'll make sure that it won't happen again. to keep the you in this life from ever slipping away from him like you did so many times before.

in which xiao falls in love with you in every life and slowly goes insane.

( reincarnation au, w4r, lots of blo0dshed and decápitation, graphic description of vi0lence, mention of xiao's sl4very, deáth... lots of it, sort of enabler aether but for a lil bit, the beginnings of a yandere, angst. lots of it as well )

“you know, yéyé says that if you make a wish on a dandelion seed, then your wishes will come true!”

the unnamed adeptus fixes his golden gaze on a fellow prisoner, sitting across from him with a bright smile. the prisoners around them have given up already, with their dull, glazed eyes and the repeated prayers of deàth spilling from their cracked lips. but this odd one, although their face caked with grime and their hair matted from bloòd, smiles at him from the darkness.

“... dandelion seed?” he goes, not bothering to wince or be embarrassed by his raspy voice. this dull life strips you of your dignity and pride. there’s no use in saving face when you’re looking at deàth right in the eyes. “i have never heard of such a thing.”

“oh, you don’t know?” the little prisoner cocks their head at him. “it’s a curious thing! it’s a flower with fluffy petals covering the middle part. yéyé said that whenever he takes a walk on the borders between liyue and mondstadt, he’d pick some for himself and make a wish!”

the adeptus scoffs. “wishes have no place in my world. actions must be taken if you want results. your grandfather sounds foolish. now be quiet, lest you want the god to take care of that noisy tongue of yours.”

his fellow mate sticks said tongue out at him and gives him a dirty glare. “how rude! my yéyé is the smartest one in our village, you know. he takes a record of all the crops harvested. he’s veeery important! besides, don’t you want to know what he wished for?”

he sighs. it wouldn’t hurt to indulge this one’s yapping for a little more time. the painful groans were starting to take a toll on him and conversation, no matter how foolish the premise sounded, was a nice change of pace. even if his throat was hurting from use because of the god’s neglect to give them drinkable water. “what is it, then?”

they grin at him. “he wished for mondstadt’s harsh winds to disappear! isn’t he cool?”

“why wouldn’t he use the wish for himself?” he cocks his head. “it seems to be more efficient and logical.”

the little prisoner stares at them from behind their bars.

“... what.”

“you are so dull to talk to.”

ugh, this little—! they were the one who started the conversation! before alatus could snap something back, they fall back dramatically and shake their head at him in a pitying manner. “wishes aren’t made to be efficient and logical, stupid! they won’t always work! that’s why they’re just wishes!”

he decides that this thing is absolutely aggravating to talk to, but he won’t deny that he likes their company. “then what’s the use of doing something so useless?”

they laugh. it echoes through their cell, a pleasant tune before it escapes through the bars and gets lost in the sad symphony of groans and lifeless pleas. they continue to laugh like they were underneath liyue’s vast blue skies instead of an underground tomb. “isn’t it obvious, mister adeptus? it’s for hope!

“if you wish on a dandelion and blow the seeds away, your wish will be carried for all of teyvat to hear! and then– and then! even if it’s just a teeny bit of hope, you’ll start to feel that everything can be possible!”

“sounds inefficient.”

“that’s why i said you’re so dull to talk to.”

“hmph.”

“i don’t understand why you keep coming back down here, mister adeptus,” comes the familiar cheery voice of his once prison mate. the surrounding cells are all empty, filled with corpses of the dead long gone. the young god has no time to spare any thought for the useless mortals hanging in his underground prison. the adeptus slides a tray of milk and bread between the bars and into the lap of a grinning face.

even you, he thinks as he examines their sallow face and dry lips. you have been forgotten.

 “you have plenty of companions upstairs. shouldn’t you be celebrating and parading around with them? i heard through the cracks that you’ve got plenty of rice wine to waste.”

“they are not my companions,” he snaps, but they don’t flinch as they snack on the food. “they’re fools who waste their time mindlessly partying and deriving pleasure from the pain of the weak. and i’m… i am nothing more than the god’s plaything.”

he sinks to the ground, sighing. “... [your name],” he whispers, staring at them tearfully from behind bars. “i will get us out of here, i promise.” his hands, shaking and caked with blood, gently reach for their cheek. it’s rough and awfully thin, and something in his chest breaks whenever he sees such a beautiful thing covered in dirt like they were nothing. “i’ll get you back to your village. i’ll make sure that you’ll see your grandfather and your siblings again.”

their hands squeeze his lightly, not having the energy to reciprocate his tenderness like they used to. “i know,” they whisper back to him. they smile up at him, though it is now weak and shaky. “... your hair is green.”

his brows knit together in confusion, but they brush back a few stray strands and smile at the feel of it in their palm. “... i’ve never seen a dandelion, you know. but my yéyé says that dandelions are green. i don’t know if it’s this shade of green but…” you close your eyes and chuckle. “it’s nice to know that i have my own dandelion right in front of me.”

“...?!”

“my dandelion… i have a wish to make,” you mumble to him. alatus closes in, ready to serve you your heart’s deepest desires.

“anything… anything you want, [your name], i’ll make it come true. so…!”

“smile for me, will you?” you peer up at him, watching confusion take over his delicate yet rough features. “you always look so sad. as my dearest friend…

“my only wish is that i see you smile. even if it’s just once.”

the adeptus returns the next day, milk and bread on a tray once more. they are wasted on the floor.

a corpse smiles from the shadows of the cell.

he thinks back to the wish he couldn’t fulfill yesterday. try as he might, it’s hard to stretch his lips into a genuine smile.

maybe it’s because he’s collapsed on the ground, yelling in pain as his whole world blissfully sleeps in the corner.

maybe it’s because whenever he tries to smile, it doesn’t feel right.

not when there’s no one to smile for anymore.

the end is nowhere in sight, yet rex lapis keeps pushing forward.

alatus’ spear plunges into the guts of the demons, spurting black blood over his lithe body as he pulls it out. around him, his fellow yakshas are also hard at work. bosacius tears bodies apart with his four bare hands, splattering more blood and leaving a gruesome sight behind. menogias clicks his tongue and furrows his eyes at the electro yaksha in disapproval.

“can’t you be a bit more graceful, bosacius?” he steps out of the way as bonanus and indarias team up to fling a particularly mighty foe across his way. “these corpses are dismal to look at!”

bosacius laughs boisterously, hoisting an enemy up in the air and cracking their skull on a rock in one fell swoop. “i can’t be bothered, brother! this is the way bosacius fights! with bare hands and strength! corpses are not meant to be looked at anyway!” crack. crack. the gruesome sounds of his fighting are lost in the sounds of war around them.

with a clever twist of his body, alatus sends a corpse to the four-handed idiot to which he skillfully catches without even sparing a glance. “less talking, more fighting,” he says ever so curtly. “rex lapis requires our immediate assistance. do not dally.”

bosacius and menogias send each other a knowing glance, quite familiar with alatus’ undying loyalty to their senior adeptus. the fighting continues and alatus continues to let himself get lost in the chaos, never minding the mysterious ache that binds his chest tighter and tighter with every demon purged. when the battle is won, no one celebrates. it’s hard to, when you feel the blood of the thousands you have massacred drying on your skin. alatus approaches rex lapis, his toned back shadowed by the rising sun as he overlooks the aftermath of the war.

“you’ve fought well, alatus,” rex lapis’ deep voice acknowledges him, brown eyes still steady on the horizon. “you do well to keep the contract.”

“i do not need a contract to serve you, rex lapis,” alatus starts humbly, lowering his gaze in respect. “i owe you my freedom and life.”

“you say that, yet i now have you enslaved to kill for another cause. to me, there is no difference.” rex lapis casts a glace on his most loyal follower. “yet you say that i have given you freedom.”

alatus takes note of the dry bitterness underneath rex lapis’ otherwise gravel tone. “i have signed the contract of my own free will,” he professes, daring to gaze his golden eyes into his lord’s similar ones. “you need not worry about me, my lord.”

rex lapis chuckles, before beckoning alatus to his side. “look at her harsh winds and cold peaks,” the senior adeptus muses. “our nation is blessed with vast plains and tall mountains, but our neighbors shoulder the bitter cold while fighting their side of the archon war.”

“indeed,” alatus could only say. “but your victory is sure now, my lord. soon you will rebuild liyue to glory once you’ve taken the seat of the seven.”

“mmm, yes,” rex lapis hums. “the war nears its end. seven victors from different nations, including bitter and wintry mondstadt. i wonder what sort of archon will rise from mondstadt. our borders are joined together— while violetgrass root themselves on the stony sides of our mountains, their dandelions withstand harsh winds even as their seeds threaten to fly. perhaps their new archon can give them a home where they can grow unbothered, while i build our citizens to be as resilient as a violetgrass.”

… dandelions…

“apologies for the unnecessary question, my lord, but… have you seen a dandelion?”

“oh, they’re curious little things indeed. native to mondstadt. if guizhong had time, she used to walk by the borders and pluck them to make a wish.”

alatus’s breath hitches at the familiar tale. “... what did she wish for, if i would be permitted to know?”

rex lapis’ lips turn into a half-smile, hardened eyes softening at the memories of a dear friend long gone. “she wished for liyue to prosper under my rule. never used a wish on herself.”

“... huh.” the wind blows back alatus’s matted hair, revealing forlorn eyes as they gaze at the sun. “... i wonder why they all do that.”

“does this all sound familiar to you, alatus?” the younger adeptus looks up to see his lord gazing at him with a soft look. alatus shakes his head and straightens his back, taking on the stance of a soldier once again.

“no. this is not the time for me to be concerned with another nation’s trivialities.” he bows his head to the adeptus and starts to make his exit. he doesn’t know why, but a gloved hand takes one of the stray strands of hair self-consciously and turns back to rex lapis. “another question… if i may be so impudent to ask.”

“impudence is not a word to be used on you, alatus. go ahead.”

for a moment, alatus’s confused and conflicted face makes him look like the young adeptus rex lapis saved from the hands of a cruel god. now he is not a battle-hardened soldier, but a lost boy who doesn’t know what to do. “... is the shade of my hair… similar to that of a dandelion?”

the older adeptus cocks his head at the unusual question. “far from it, no.” he studies alatus’s look of disappointment as he lets go of the strand. “why do you ask?”

“... nothing, my lord.”

moments of respite like this are rare in this current era of warfare, so soldiers cherish every single second of it. but for alatus who has only known bloodshed ever since his days at the mercy of the young god, this temporary peacefulness is a waste of time. in a camp just outside of liyue harbor, alatus and his fellowmen idle around a crackling campfire.

“you’re too fidgety, alatus-gē,” pervases laughs as he takes a bite out of his grilled ticker fish. he raises one to alatus’s face. “care for one?” when the senior adeptus scowls and turns his head away, he shrugs and scoffs it down stick and all in one gulp. “more for me then.”

“those malevolent gods continue to let their underlings rampage as we sit here and idle,” alatus frowned at the seemingly peaceful campsite of his fellow yakshas and even a few outstanding mortal warriors. “we should be making plans and calling reinforcements. the war will not end unless we bring that monster down to its watery grave.”

“oh my,” comes a motherly sigh. a young woman with silvery gray hair smiles slyly at alatus. her slender figure stretches across the log serving as a seat in front of the campfire, the cleansing bell tinkling delicately at her side. “you youngsters are quite eager to get into danger these days. not everyone has the energy to keep battling, you know? why i—” she sighs mournfully, pressing her fingers to a supple cheek “— even i need my beauty sleep. charging into the fray daily with no rest is just too much!”

“ping,” he addresses the newcomer. “i see that you are as vain as ever. if you’re not willing to put your all into this war, why did you even enter the contract?”

“i am upholding my end of the contract,” huffs ping. “but only within reason! you’re the one who’s out of reason.” she waves him off with her hand, shooing him off like a stray dog. “take a walk or something. call it a night patrol to ease yourself. i’m afraid your scowl is going to affect me and give me wrinkles.”

alatus takes a good moment to ponder the suggestion before he feels ping’s eyes narrowing at him threateningly. with a deep sigh, he takes his spear with him and teleports himself to a quiet walkway some ways off the guili assembly. war had touched this side of liyue too, it seemed, with swords rusted with blood plunged to the ground and tattered kerchiefs belonging to soldiers waving solemnly in the air. alatus knows this place to once been the safe haven of rex lapis and the late guizhong’s people before the war took the sweet goddess’ life and perished her to dust. now it is mere ruins, a reminder of the evil deities are willing to commit for power.

alatus has years of battle experience under his belt, but it doesn’t make the feeling any better as he stares at these relics. he focuses his gaze on the moon and walks by.

… rumble rumble…

a weathering wall shakes just a few steps away, alerting alatus’s senses. he quickly arms his spear as he vigilantly approaches the spot. the place is teeming with ruin guards and other dangerous mechanisms and although mindless machines are no match for him, alatus is not one to underestimate an opponent. when he peeks around the corner, it is not the eerie glowing eye of a machine but a pair of eyes about to glaze over.

covered in soot and dirt, a raspy voice tries to speak out, “w… wa… ter…”

alatus blinks in surprise when he finds a human instead but quickly teleports somewhere to get drinkable water. in a moment, he appears again in front of them and swiftly tips the saucer into their mouth. gently lifting their head, he watches as they desperately glug down the water. some of it spills from the sides, but the light in their eyes quickly revives until they pull away with a gasp.

“ugh… ha! i thought i was a goner there!”

alatus freezes.

two shining [eye color] eyes peer up at him gratefully as a wide grin spreads across their face.

“thanks a lot, mister adeptus.”

they are escorted into liyue harbor. alatus does not talk to them or even spare them a glance, afraid of whatever feelings that may arise should he do so. he’s aware of the curious glance they send his way, scrutinizing his every inch. he doesn’t like how they stare at him with awe and absolute trust. this is an era of warring gods, where adepti like him dig into flesh and blood to pursue their ambition. fools who cling to whoever feeds them die easily.

they continue staring. it feels like fire as his guilt and memories long pushed away pour from his heart and threaten to consume him whole. his steps feel heavier, as if any second now and the earth will cave in and send him straight to hell. unconsciously, his eyes glance back to them and they… smile.

it hurts.

flashes of a corpse long gone come back to him and he tears his eyes away. he shakes this haunting feeling away, yet their stare that bears the weight of decades' guilt continues to burden him all the way to camp.

"ping," he says gruffly, catching the attention of the group. everyone's a bit startled at the arrival of a newcomer, a dusty and malnourished one at that, but even more so that alatus decided to trek uphill instead of just conveniently teleporting himself. "take care of this one," is all he curtly says before plopping down underneath a tree and closing his eyes.

ping huffs in disdain and gives him a dirty look, but quickly changes it to give the newcomer a warm smile. “come now, sweetie,” she coos, placing a comforting palm on the small of their back and escorting them to the bonfire. “you’re positively shivering! it makes sense, given that that yaksha’s always so cold.” at this alatus grunts, but she doesn’t pay him any mind. “here’s some soup and a blanket to cover you with. my gosh, you’re so dirty! what have you been doing? playing around in the mud?”

you eagerly take her up on her offer, and soon you’re swaddled in a thick blanket and bowl of carrot soup to enjoy in front of the fire. “i was actually studying some of the leftover ruins at the assembly. i thought that maybe i could get some useful things and use them for myself.”

ping gasps dramatically at your story– a young adult scrapping for leftovers in the middle of the war– and alatus rolls his eyes. “poor, poor thing!” she cries and draws you in for a hug. “don’t worry. here at morax’s camp, you won’t have to suffer through that anymore! you’ll be cared for until we can find a suitable place for you and the other survivors to live!”

you laugh. “i think you have the wrong impression, ms. adeptus, i’ve had it pretty easy compared to others during this war. what i’ve been scrapping are materials!”

ping cocks her head, and alatus even peeks out from the tree he’s hiding behind. “materials, darling?”

“yes! screws, tree bark, metal, you name it. i’m finding them so i can continue making my gadgets.” you fish into your bag, and they can hear the clanking of metal and other stuff as you sift through the mess. “ah, here it is, one of my favorites!” you pull out a curious box, the cuhui wood engraved with liyuean details. you gently snap the box open and reveal a little figurine made out of precious stone, frozen in an elegant twirl reminiscent of liyue’s traditional dances. you begin to crank the little knob at its side, and when you release it a pleasant tinkling of sounds fills the night air.

ping stares wide-eyed at the pretty treasure, listening to its sounds with a fond look on her face. even pervasive hums as he gnaws on his nth fish, his scratchy voice humming along with the old lullaby. other nearby campers close their eyes and let their minds wander for a while, to a place where lullabies such as this sang all day and wars didn’t raze grass and civilians to the ground. for a moment, they let themselves be deluded into a moment of peace.

when the tinkling fades away, only the crackling of the fire remains. “pretty, isn’t it?” it takes ping a moment to snap out of her trance before nodding enthusiastically.

“quite! oh, if it didn’t look so perfect slotted between your hands, i might have snatched it for myself! although,” she nervously chuckles, feeling the stern gaze of the silent adeptus lounging behind the tree. “i might not have the chance anyway. a certain someone has been glaring at me ever since i conceived the thought.”

“maybe he wants it for himself?” pervases jokes. “he could do with it, what with all that stress.”

“hmph, i’ve no need for such trivial things.” he goes back to resting against the trunk without another word.

ping sighs and shakes her head at you, like a disappointed mother. “he’s always like that,” she laments. “he’s morax’s most faithful servant, i’ll tell you that, but sometimes it makes me wonder what will happen after this war is over. surely he won’t be going around slaughtering monsters?!” she raises her hand to her mouth like the thought was too unforgivable.

pervases hummed, thinking hard and long about how his senior would act in a time of peace. “hmm… i think alatus-ge would like to fish. he seems like the type.”

the image of the bloody general fishing floats above your three heads. ping waves it away. “as if!” she scoffs. “he’d just spear the fish and be done with it!”

“what kind of person do you think alatus-ge is…?”

“alatus, alatus!”

something twists at his gut, a mix of anticipation and dread, but he stops in his tracks to wait for you. you catch your breath beside him. “you’re so fast for someone so short!” you complain. “how do you do it?”

“slowness isn’t an option on the battlefield,” alatus curtly says before turning to assess. you’re covered head to toe in dirt, and your fingers are covered in grime like you’ve been digging. he sighs and rubs a speck of dirt from your cheek. “another one of your foraging hunts? you can always tell me if you need something. it’s too dangerous outside the camp.”

“i used to tell you, didn’t i?” you pout. “but you can’t tell the difference between a cork and a screw!”

alatus blushes. he can’t really wrap his head around these machineries. whenever you and cloud retainer got into one of your excited conversations about tinkering and machinery, alatus could only pretend like everything you just said didn’t make his head spin. if you got into another of your rants about the intricacies of machines or whatever, everything you said went into one ear and out the other.

“but you still listen, don’t you?” ping and pervases teased him with knowing grins. he had hit them over the head after that.

“... tus! alatus! ugh, you’re not listening again!” you had gotten into a lecture of the differences between corks and screws, but now you shake him by the shoulder with furrowed brows. “you’re always like this. is machinery really too hard for you?”

“everyone has their strengths.” he ruffles your hair, smiling softly when you visibly relax. “you wouldn’t want me to tell you about how to efficiently kill geovishaps, do you?” when you make a face, he laughs slightly. “thought so.”

“they just… ugh. they just smell so bad!”

“... they smell like rocks.”

as the two of you finish the rest of his patrol, alatus doesn’t miss a moment to watch your every movement. here, under the red rays of dusk, you look so alive. your cheeks could be healthier, but alatus is comforted with the knowledge that you stuffed yourself full this morning. your eyes have a twinkle in them, not the last sparks of ember that you had tried to hold on for so long. and you smile… because you want to. not because you had to. not because you had to comfort your fellow friend in prison.

“looks like we’ve walked too far,” alatus comments, sighting the dandelions swaying in the distance. “we should head back to camp before it gets too dark.”

“oooh, dandelions,” you muse. you and alatus stand side by side, taking in the dandelions swaying in their pastel heads swaying in the wind. “i heard they were pretty, but seeing them in person is better.”

standing by your side, alatus takes in your countenance. there is an indistinguishable look in your eyes as you watch their seeded heads bob and sway, your smile somewhere between content and forlorn. the setting sun paints your face with an orange hue, only serving to make you look as if you’ve come out of an oil painting itself. alatus’s breath hitches and he tears his eyes away from you.

self-consciously, he rubs a teal strand of his hair before tucking it back. “do… does my hair…” you turn your gaze to him questioningly, and his pale face burns at the embarrassing predicament he’s put himself in. “does my hair look like the dandelions?”

you stare at him for quite some time, only blinking and not saying anything, before you tilt your head back and laugh. alatus’s face only reddens further and he hits you with his elbow in his embarrassment. you only continue to laugh, even as alatus is beginning to throttle you and beg you to pay no heed to his words. when you’re done laughing, alatus huffs at you and refuses to look at you.

“oh, you… silly adeptus, i would have mistaken you for a pure-hearted maiden there!” you giggle into your hand, and alatus’s brows knit themselves in huffiness as you continue to tease him. “come on, you have eyes. they’re not even close in color!”

he kicks you lightly in the shin, before turning around and walking off to the distance. “come on. let’s head to camp before night,” he says as if nothing’s happened. you stare at his back for a while, a teasing smile on your face, before shaking it off and hurrying to catch up to him. when you catch up to him, you leap at him with your arms around his neck, ruffling his hair with a bright smile on your face.

“don’t be too grumpy, alatus!” you laugh, even as he sends you a look of frustration. “once this is all over, we’ll come back to this place and make wishes on those dandelions!”

“don’t forget about me, mister servant,” you lightly laugh behind your bars. “bring me lots of food, okay? then once you get me outta here, we’ll have a big ol’ feast at my yéyé’s.”

one of the guards tug at alatus’s shackles but he clings to your cell even as they grunt and pull. “[your name], i’m not leaving you! i can’t! i won’t!”

you chuckle. “stupid mister adeptus. who’s going to swipe cake for me then? now go, shoo.” you wave him away, smiling weakly. “i know you’ll come back for me. you always will.”

you’ve always had a knack for being the unluckiest person alive. even if your smile was so bright that it seemed to ward off evil, tragedy always seemed to tightly coil around your neck like a noose. he wanted to be the one to cut it off, in both the last life and this.

once again, he always seemed to be too late.

“they’ve broken through the formation!” indarias yells, slamming a fiery fist through her enemies. the pyro-blessed yaksha, usually so playful and coy, looks at her comrades with panic. “there’s no one left at the camp to defend them anymore. they’re— they’re all—!” she swallows down the bitter reality, pervases and her other comrades’ gored bodies flashing through her mind. “the civilians can’t defend themselves from all those monsters!”

“shit.” menogias slices through a foe and turns to their youngest, standing atop a pile of bloodied corpses. karmic debt wraps him and the other yakshas like a dense fog, and it gets harder to breathe with every passing second. still, he calls out to him.

“alatus—!”

the young yaksha only spares him a golden glance, before slipping the bloodied mask on. “you don’t have to tell me twice.” and he disappears into the air.

you are not there when he reappears at the camp. no one is. everything is on fire, and he can barely see what’s in front of him thanks to all the smoke and ashes polluting the air. he hisses at the burning in his lungs, but he perseveres forward as he strains his ears for any signs of life. the faint clashing of weapons and maniacal laughter is far away, but they grow stronger as he continues.

he steps on something… fleshy. growing dread rises within him as he slowly looks down.

that… is a severed hand.

biting his tongue, he rushes forward through the sea of flames. more and more decapitated limbs and bodies litter the area. arms, legs, torsos, feet… the handiwork of psychopaths, no doubt. because an ordinary soldier would not do this. not to civilians. not to people who could not defend themselves. he sees no face to mourn for. he sees no head to remember.

roars of laughter peal through the air as he braves a wall of fire. as the sky is dyed red with both fire and dawn, alatus’ face pales when he sees the enemies marching around as they shout triumphantly into the chaos.

your head, beautiful as he had always remembered, parades past him on a wooden stake.

when karmic debt takes over, he doesn’t remember anything the next morning when he sobs and cradles your sleeping face, surrounded by the bodies of foes and allies alike.

in your next life, you are both strangers. he looks high and low for you in liyue, but he does not find you.

celestia orders the seven archons to launch an attack on khaenri’ah, and alatus and whoever is left of the adepti is ordered by rex lapis to stand by in liyue and eliminate any escaped khaenri’ahns. although he has nothing against them, he is more than happy to follow his lord’s commands, because he has nothing else left to do but do his duty.

surely enough, the khaenri’ahns have found some escape route that leads up to liyue. unfortunately for them, alatus and the others are there to massacre them without hesitation.

in one of the escapees, his eyes widen behind his mask as he meets your scared eyes. in this life, they have diamonds in them, and they stare back at him with fear and unfamiliarity rather than mischief and friendliness. he thinks you still look beautiful.

even as he drives a spear through your chest.

when the massacre is finished, he tries to find your body. but there are too many of you, bodies upon bodies and the stench of death heavy in the air. he cannot find you, his pearl, in this bloody sea of corpses.

years have passed, and he has not seen you since.

well, that would be a bit false. he does see you, but not… you. he does not walk with you in flower fields to admire your face bathed in sunlight nor does he watch you rummage through ruins for scraps of metal and machines. he does not idly chat with you behind bars to pass the time away nor does he help soft bread to your chapped lips as he comforts you with promises of your freedom and your yéyé.

he sees an image of you, the hallucination that his karmic debt has conjured for him in his nightmares. you smile at him ever so sweetly, joining him in his bed at wangshu inn. you’re always so pure and pretty in your nightdress when you sidle up to him to share in his warmth. but when you lean over to press a kiss to his cheek, alatus’ eyes shoot wide open as he feels your hand wrap around his neck and squeeze. he should fight, he could fight, but how could he? your face is twisted in hatred and disappointment, whispering to him about his betrayal and failure to save you. ‘you killed me, you left me, you fed me to the dogs.’

how could he fight back, when all you have said is the truth?

and so alatus, now named xiao, wakes up for another day drenched in his sweat and tears.

he is patrolling guili plains when he spots a familiar head of gold and the tinier head of white walking idly through the grasses. it’s not unusual for aether and paimon to be here, but they’ve thoroughly explored and exhausted this area of any treasures, and last he heard they were in fontaine. he hides away in a tree, observing their usual back and forth as they seem to wait for someone.

“like i’m saying, they’re an hour late!” paimon fumes, stomping the air as she throws a tantrum. “what if someone happened to them? oooh, paimon knew we should’ve picked them up from mondstadt! they’re always so clumsy!”

“oh, don’t get your crown in a twist, paimon,” aether says, nonchalant as ever. he glances towards xiao’s way and hums to himself, as if partaking in a fun little secret (he’s always been so perceptive, xiao muses), and takes a bite out of his sunsettia. “geniuses like [your name] are always like that. losing track of time, getting caught up in some curious thing they encountered on their way… they’ll be here soon, promise.” he hands out his half-eaten sunsettia to paimon. “sunsettia?”

“ew, gross! don’t hand paimon your leftovers!”

xiao perks at the familiar name, opening one eye as he lazily ruminates the familiar syllables in his head. [your name], [your name], [your name]... like he could ever forget that. he whispers it in his sleep, prays to your hallucination like a god, screams it every morning… [your name], [your name], [your name]... he watches aether finish his sunsettia and sighs to himself. he shouldn’t be silly. numerous people with your name have appeared in liyue ever since he’s last seen you, and not one of them was you. he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

“— iiii’mmm! so, so sorry!” a sobbed yelp breaks the peace of the plains from the distance. a hefty backpack overshadows the figure carrying it, running as fast as they can with the weight on them. they skid to a stop in front of the traveler and paimon, who greets the newcomer with an amused smile and a huffy face. the backpack ungracefully lands on the grass with a loud clang, and its owner falls alongside it as they try to catch their breath. “i’m so— huff— sorry! i was— hah— on my way here when i— huff— came across a travelling merchant. they had all these goods from fontaine and i— hah— couldn’t resist!”

paimon once again stomps the air. “well, you should try to be more mindful from now on! it’s rude!”

“i’m so~ory,” the eccentric figure whines pitifully. they rummage through their bag and pull out a pretty tin box, the kind used to store cookies. “forgive me, paimon?” in the usual paimon fashion, her eyes twinkle upon seeing the pretty sugar cookies stored inside, and upon the first bite all is finally forgiven.

“hm, is it just me or is someone watching us…?” they wonder, looking around the guili plains for any signs of life. “i feel this, uh, weird pressure. or am i just delusional…?”

when they turn, xiao catches their eyes through the canopy of leaves on the tree he’s occupying. his breath hitches, his eyes widen, and the world seems to halt to a stop.

you unknowingly lock eyes with the adeptus, cocking your head as you try to find the stranger peeking on your little group.

you blink when the pressure is finally gone, and you look back at the highly perceptive traveler in confusion. he only regards you with a small smile and shrugs.

“you’re awfully interested in the engineer, don’t you think?” aether playfully muses as he walks in on one of xiao’s rare times of relaxation. he lounges on wangshu inn’s balcony as he overlooks the scenery beneath him, almond tofu in hand. “why don’t you greet them for yourself then?”

xiao doesn’t spare him a glance as he brings a spoon of the silken food to his mouth. “unnecessary.”

aether rolls his eyes, taking the spot next to xiao as he studies the adeptus with a smile. “don’t be like that, you introvert. you’re always following us around while they go study liyue’s machines. i’m sure zhongli would be pleased to know that you have friends outside of us and the other adepti.” xiao scowls when aether uses his lord as a guilt trip, but doesn’t comment any further. “[your name]’s a wonderful person, if not a bit ditzy at times. i think they and cloud retainer would get aloong quite well if they ever met each other.”

he thinks back to your second life, where you chattered the night away with the crane adeptus about machinery and the like. bathed in the glow of the campfire, alatus would only dare observe from a distance as you talked passionately with stars in your eyes. aether observes as xiao’s eyes soften. “they did.”

the traveller huffs a laugh, slumping his cheek against the wooden railing as he looks out to the scenery too. “reincarnation, huh? there were things like that in other worlds as well.”

he’d never admit it, but he had always been pleased by the fact that aether had the shared experience of living for eras, if not longer. the other adepti were never close to humans, but aether and his sister had always walked alongside mortals in order to observe their stories. xiao lets the wind graze his cheek. “... did you ever have someone you wanted as well?”

“i made many friends but…” aether quirks a small smile, tapping his fingers on the wood lightly. “my sister was really all i needed.” he notes the hidden pain in his voice. “we’ve traversed many worlds together, and we will always have eternity together. but you don’t have someone like that.”

golden eyes meet golden, and xiao shudders at the sly look that aether gives him.

“well, unless you do something to change that.”

‘damn you, aether.’ the traveller’s always been sort of a bastard hiding behind gentle manners and a pretty smile, but he never thought that he’d stoop so low as to awaken the dark feelings that he’s kept repressed for so long. ‘sly dog.’ he makes a mental note to not react when aether calls for him next as some sort of petty revenge.

today, you are alone. your backpack is lighter, thankfully, otherwise you would not be able to travel through the huaguang stone forest’s cliffs and falls. he’s joined you on this journey since you started a few days back, but he continues to grow with paranoia every time he sees you walk too close to the edge. he’s also saved you a few times, summoning wind to stabilize a shaky glide or carrying you further away from the edge when you started rolling in your sleep.

his heart twists when he settles you back in your sleeping bag. he takes in your sleeping face, murmuring nonsense in your sleep, and the sides of his lips tug into an unconscious smile. you’ve always had that habit in the lives that he’s known you in, and he pushes aside the strands of hair to take a clearer look at your face. when the babbling subsides, your dopey grin relaxes itself, and the heartaches begin once again. so many times he’s watched over you like this, but the last time he had was… was when you were…

your face, peaceful and oblivious, overlaps to a bloody, dismembered one. xiao inhales sharply and shakes the image out of his head.

he starts with your cheek, caressing it softly with his calloused fingers as he revels in your warmth. they trace every feature— your fluttering eyelids, the in-betweens of your eyes, your twitching nose— until his thumb presses on your lip. this was not a luxury he could afford back then, but now, now.

‘i can protect you in this world.’ he thinks. his lips brush against yours, but he does not lean in further.

‘all my past transgressions, i will make it up to you.’

you smile in your sleep peacefully, just as you did... so many years ago.

you appear in xiao’s dream once more.

it starts off the same as always. you are draped in fine liyue silk, batting those innocent eyes at him as you call him to your shared bed. he knows what will happen next, having relieved this for centuries on end. you will crawl upon him, you will wrap those hands around his neck, and you will admonish him. xiao stares at the alluring image of you and does not budge from the foot of the bed.

“[your name], come to me.” your image cocks its head in confusion, but you follow anyway. now that he’s met the real you, he can clearly see the difference. your hair isn’t that shade, your eyes are much too wide and— ah, his image of you has slowly been creeping away from his mind after years of separation. the thought of it twists his heart.

he watches you crawl over to him, tempting and innocent like a newly wed bride. you sit on your knees dutifully, awaiting his next command. he reaches out, strokes your hair— it’s not as soft as this in real life— and smiles darkly.

“i love you, [your name].”

you smile. “i know.”

“i always have. even after all these years.”

“i know.”

your eyes held so much light and passion than this blank-minded image of you. he inhales. “i’ll miss you.”

you furrow your brows, frowning in confusion at the sudden confession. “alatus, what are you talking about—?!”

xiao’s face is unmoving as he watches you choke on your blood, staring up at him wide-eyed as your hands shakily reach up to the spear embedded through your chest. “a– la– tus…?” he does not respond to your weak call, yellow eyes dull as you bloody his spear and heave with every gasp. “wh– how could…?”

“i’ve met you, [your name],” he whispers. he thumbs away the blood trickling from your lips. he breathes in slowly, knocking his head against yours. your image stares at him in betrayal and fear. “in this life, i’ve finally met you.” he feels your image dissipating and he brings you in closer. “finally. after all these years.”

“a… la… tus…”

“this time. this life. i promise you.” he entangles your bloody hand in his and presses a kiss to it. “we will finally be together.”

“no matter what.”

[shiroxichigo]

Ichigo gets a lot of shit (typically from outside of the Bleach fandom) for being a character whose wants/goals never change from beginning to end of his series. He always wants to protect people (and even though I could argue that he went from only wanting to protect those close to him to wanting to protect everyone he can, that's not the point I'm making with this post).

I think a lot of people who only give Bleach a passing glance fail to see Ichigo's true character growth. It's not about what his goals are or who he's trying to protect, but rather, it's about how he achieves it.

Ichigo is very self-sacrificing in the first third of Bleach. He believes that if the mission is successful, then it doesn't matter how broken or close to death he gets. The mission, saving Rukia (and hurting/killing as few people in the process), is all that matters.

Then, when a part of himself (his inner hollow) emerges, and says "hey yeah no, I'm not letting you get yourself killed and I'm also not letting you hold back against your enemy", Ichigo immediately rejects it.

It's not until he defeats his inner Hollow that we see Ichigo really dive into a fight with the intent to kill. The problem is, once his Hollow is defeated, he thinks that's it. He's freed himself of that part of him and he can go back to being self-sacrificing.

We see this throughout the Hueco Mundo arc. It's why saving Orihime parallels saving Rukia. Ichigo naively thinks he can suppress a part of himself. He bottles it up until it explodes, coming back to haunt him in his fight with Ulquiorra, etc. He learns that side of himself isn't so easily tucked away, and if he recklessly endangers himself, he could end up endangering his friends too. At his own hand, no less.

Then Ichigo discovers he can commit the ultimate sacrifice. Final Getsuga Tenshou. He can throw away these powers and the parts of himself that he doesn't like, and he can get rid of Aizen all in one go. He's lucky that it worked, but only because Kisuke was there.

Then, once Ichigo is powerless, he learns that's not what he really wants. Life doesn't "go back to normal". The can is open, and there's danger out there beyond just Aizen. And Ichigo can't do anything to stop it unless he gets his powers back.

So he does. Then he cuts down the threat to his friends and family. And he doesn't hesitate this time. Yes, he still has compassion for his enemies (he even goes to the Soul Society to ask for Ginjo's body so he can give him a proper burial), but he's learned not to hold back and he's learned that new threats will appear and he'd rather have the power to face them head on.

So then comes TYBW, and Ichigo is facing battles head-on without hesitation. He goes straight to the "bad guys" with the intention of cutting them down. He learns the truth about who his Inner Hollow is, and he accepts it. He's even willing to accept whatever consequences may come from training in the Royal Palace and becoming stronger. He accepts his power and potential fully, and learns that he has what it takes to protect his loved ones with his strength, and not with a sacrifice.

Ultimately, he heals the part of himself that thinks his life is worth less than other people's. He heals the part of himself that blames himself for not protecting his mother (when he was 9!! Like come on Isshin, put the kid in therapy!! Anyway...) He grows into someone who knows his self worth. And I think, for me at least, that makes him one of my favourite protagonists of all time. Because can't most of us relate to feeling worthless at times? And don't we also wanna overcome that?

Thanks for reading my ramble lmao, I'm sure this could have been more elegantly written but I'm very sleepy and just wanted to get my thoughts out there.

[lexirosewrites]

Slick Sundaaaaaaay!

I see a lot of ABO steddie fics featuring Omega Steve who is self conscious for one reason or another because he doesn't have a typical Omega physic and/or behaviors (which is super tasty yum yum) but I live the idea of Eddie being the more swlf conscious one.

Like, Eddie who is not deceptively strong for his size (he has a little bit of natural muscle tone as an Alpha but he never puts it to good use), and who is a little weasel who like to agrivate people but runs away from any kind of real conflict and doesn't have a strong manly scent or any desire for a high powered job to take care of an Omega unless you count is half fleshed out dreams of being a rock star.

Dealers choice of how it happens but Steve basically asks Eddie if he would be interested in couting the Omega and Eddie isn't blind, stupid, or heartless so he jumps on the chance to be with the Omega of his dreams but very quickly finds himself self agonizing about how to be the "right kind" of Alpha for Steve.

So decides he needs to start working out so he can keep his Omega safe even if he knows Steve is more than capable of taking care of himself in that department but his first workout sends him into an asthma attack for the ages so he decides it's more important for Steve to have a living Alpha than a fit one.

There's nothing much he can do about his wet concrete and grass scent which on paper sounds super manly but mostly just smells like a suburban morning so he goes down the employment seeking rabbit hole. He applies for what feels like every Alpha-y job in the Hawkins area but his reputation proceeds him and he never makes it past the first interview. Eventually he gets a call back from a place he applied for after reading the word "painter" and wrote down the number in his notebook with no notes (he didn't say he had a good system) but it turns out to be someone two towns over looking for someone to freelance the painting of dnd and other such figures to sell in a games shop two towns over. It's an ideal job for Eddie but it's deeply entrenched in his need shit and not the kind of thing he was looking for to impress Steve and show him he can provide for him and their future pups. He still takes it because even if it doesn't pay a tone, whatever he DOES make can go toward pampering his Omega and saving up.

It all comes to a head when they go out and Eddie is feeling pretty down on himself after so many failed attempts to "improve" for his Love. Some guy is hitting in Steve while Eddie is RIGHT THERE even though Steve has said no many times and has told him he's there with his Alpha. The guy just keeps leaving and coming back and on his fourth return to their spot Eddie just launches is fist no warning into the guy's face.

That was NOT what he meant to do, he was just getting so fed up and territorial and he was gonna really tell the guy to piss off but the little goblin inside him made him throw a pretty pathetic punch that results in a busted knuckle for him and a slightly bruised and irate beta in front of them.

Steve drags him out and takes him back to the trailer, grumbling the whole time about "stupid Alphas and their stupid instincts" and finally snaps and asks Eddie what the hell has been up with him lately. Eddie just blinks his big dumb eyes at Steve as he points out the job search and the asthma hospital visit and the more expensive gifts and finally asks why he's been acting like such a knot head.

So they talk it out and Steve makes Eddie hold him in his lap so he can tell him all the ways, the ways that matter to Steve, that Eddie takes care of him. Tells him how he doesn't need an Alpha to fight for him but he's never had an Alpha offer him sanctuary like Eddie does. Eddie who never makes him feel stupid for his questions and reads his assigned books to him even though the Alpha is behind on his own school work and let's him build a nest in his bed.

Tells him that he appreciates Eddie trying to make money for their future family, loves that even, but what use does he have for fancy jewlery or a full bouquet of roses? Like, he doesn't even like jewlery that much and he gets much better use of the brand new wool socks Eddie thrifted for him last month in an Indiana winter and the wild flowers he brought him for their first date are much easier to press than huge roses.

Just a series of misinformed adventures for looser Alpha Eddie that end in comical disaster and his Omega who is utterly charmed his his earnest attempts to be a good Alpha but who really just wants a loving mate and partner.

oh i love this😭😭😭 Eddie just wants to be the perfect mate and alpha for his omega, meanwhile Steve can’t figure out what’s going on with the love of his life who is already perfect to him!!!!

[electraslight]

heyo, its been a long time since i did an analysis!! this time on a more controversial subject: Rook Blonko. And how I think he was robbed.

When you actually look at the way Rook is written in omniverse, they dont give him very much to work with. like revvonaganders and their culture are cool, but rook feels so underdeveloped as a person outside of his culture. hes kind of a gwen in a way; hes got bare minimum flaws but he's treated like hes in the right when hes doing something actually flawed. hes never condemned for treating ben the way he does and he doesnt even have a consistent arc. he doesnt feel like a teenager, he doesnt feel like he has any sort of character progression, hes just kinda there, and his lack of depth in character-to-character situations is only amplified by the lack of holding him accountable for negative traits he possesses, instead punishing ben or ignoring the behavior. Instead of writing a scenario where Rook is in the right and ben is in the wrong, or showing rook behaving poorly and have him learn from his actions, i can hardly think of a time where rook was shown to be wrong for his treatment of ben.

For example in a scenario where Ben is keeping personal information from Ben, and rook wants to know it for the sake of their partnership, instead of portraying Ben in the wrong properly by showing his keeping of said information being harmful to the public or his friendship to rook, or have the information be personally important to rook making Ben's keeping of it harmful, instead rook has scoured Ben's file for all information and is asking about something that is of no matter to him entirely because he doesn't know it. He pesters Ben incessantly even when Ben has told him firmly no. Tjis is a recurring issue, where it seems like the story wants rook to be right but is ignoring context and the way he goes about it.

This would be an aggravating issue but ignorable if rook had anything resembling a consistent arc, but he doesn't. the conflict of rook idolizing ben and meeting him and realizing hes not what rook thought he was is interesting, but its always treated as if bens in the wrong for not living up to rooks expectations. rook overstepping his boundaries with ben due to being a huge fan and maybe cultural differences is interesting, but its never portrayed as a flaw on rooks end, more like bens fault for keeping the information. his struggle with his culture and staying connected with it, his conflict with his father about his career path, his relationships to his siblings, him slowly watching revvonah be plundered for its resources as the series goes on, i love that, thats genuinely interesting. but they never talk about it outside of those episodes. rook is in the wrong often and it brings up a lot of interesting questions about him as a person, but they dont talk about that in favor of treating him as bens babysitter, or setting up a joke where ben is the punchline.

It's disappointing to me that rook was never given the attention he deserved. Like i said, there's a lot of good stuff in his framework that's just begging to be explored, but his lack of an arc makes him feel so one note after a while and really dampens his relationship with ben. Since rook is not a character on the same level as ben, he feels less like an equal like they tried to illustrate and more of a plot device. They even threw away the most interesting conflict between ben and rook; rook being book smart and ben being street smart, experience over training. Ben and Rook hardly ever have issues based on this other than rook misunderstanding a joke. This is why rook and ben feel like such a flat relationship to me.

all of this to say: rook fans. Please, for the love of god, work your magic. He's got all the pieces there, and i am certain you can do something special in fanworks about him. Don't let the show being lackluster hold you down.

[gabessquishytum]

Hob Gadling has a small cock. He’s never put up with anyone saying anything though- he’s given black eyes to a lot of locker room assholes who thought they could joke about it, and more than proven that size doesn’t matter to his lovers. He’s a proud bastard and refuses to feel any other way.

Until Dream that is.

Something about that smooth, deep voice degrading him just does something to him. The first time he goes to bed with Dream and he starts talking about Hob’s useless little prick, Hob tries sooo hard to snap back. He puffs up, snarls, threatens to kick Dream out, all with his face bright ready and confusing arousal in the pit of his belly. Dream lets him get it out of his system, no reaction except a raised eyebrow and a pointed look at the way Hob’s tiny cock is hard and leaking.

To make matters worse, when Dream moves away from him Hob can’t hold back a whimper.

Dream just smirks victoriously. But he insists he’ll take Hob at his word. If he doesn’t want Dream’s help with his little problem, fine. But if he does? He’s going to have to beg. For exactly what he wants.

-🦇

I do very much enjoy the small cock Hob content. Very much indeed.

Dream thinks that Hob's cute little cock is even cuter when he's being all macho manly and getting angry, telling Dream to shut the hell up, getting all red in the face. It makes such a lovely contrast to that cute pink prick. Dream would love to paint him, or take a photograph perhaps: Hob’s rage perfectly captured and yet totally undermined by his (small) arousal. Making Hob beg for his attention is so satisfying - Dream can practically hear Hob’s teeth grinding together as he begrudgingly admits that he wants to be touched. Except... Dream just isn't convinced. He'll need a better performance. He needs Hob to truly demean himself, because he's going to look so pretty when he does.

How long does it take Hob to give in and start babbling about how he wants Dream’s hands to please, please please touch his tiny, hard little dick? Not very long at all in the grand scheme of things. He's very willing to abandon his dignity if it means that Dream will finally get him off. And Dream is so sweet with him after that. He cooes over Hob’s inches, and sucks him delicately between pouting lips. It's the attention that the adorable little thing obviously deserves! Maybe next time Dream will tie it up with a pretty bow and get Hob to show it off properly. Pretty things should always be admired, right?

[natasha-in-space]

✦ In The Dark ✦

Pairing: Suit!Saeran/gn!reader.

Summary: Power outages are never a pleasant hurdle to deal with, especially in a thunderstorm. Having to keep an eye on an annoying toy like you on top of that is a disaster waiting to happen. But Saeran is stubborn, and so are you.

Notes: 'Realizing you've reached the point of no return' promt for anon! Some heavy kissing and lots of conflicting feelings involved. You and Saeran have a rocky dynamic.

AO3 Link - 4k words.

Credit: dividers by @/saradika-graphics.

"For God's sake, will you just shut the hell up already!?" 

Saeran's voice rang out harshly, the high-pitched tone bouncing off the walls of your room and hurting his own ears with its volume. The deafening rumble of thunder rattling the entirety of Magenta to its very foundation right after felt almost like a wordless retaliation of Mother Nature herself in response to his outburst. He certainly interpreted it that way. Right now, it felt like everything was purposefully trying to get under his skin. And it was working. 

Despite his full intention of hopefully scaring you off enough to finally make you go silent on him, his voice came out way harsher than he intended. Which only added to Saeran's steadily growing restlessness and frustration as he turned away from you, raking a hand through his tousled hair for the upten time already, his fingers shaky and his knees weak. 

He never liked rainstorms, and he especially did not like thunderstorms. No matter how old he got and how strong he grew, one boom of thunder would instantly send his heart flying up into his throat, making it hard to breathe. He wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and slither away into some faraway dark corner where it's safe. And that's no way for the strongest member of Mint Eye to think or feel. 

Saeran hated rainstorms because they were a cruel reminder of a weakness he couldn't overcome, no matter how hard he tried. 

He never liked you, either. Not one bit. In fact, he despised you. You were a damn thorn in his side, nothing but stubborn and infuriating since day one of his introduction to you. Always having way too much to say and refusing to back down no matter how hard he pushed. It was like the two of you were always at each other's throats, bickering and fighting over the smallest of things. And, really, that would be fine with him. Hell, that would be great, actually. Saeran would love nothing more than to laugh straight in Ray's face the moment his precious innocent angel turned out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. 

No, what he hated the most about you, was how, despite all your senseless squabbling with him, you were never truly cruel to him. You would throw his harsh words and insults right back into his face, but you never put him down. You would get smart with him for the sake of nothing but getting on his nerves, but you never kicked him when he was down. He couldn't understand you. How you could be so damn assertive and cocky without having to be cruel like him.

Much like rainstorms, you were a constant glaring reminder of his weaknesses. It goes without saying that putting the two together would leave him on edge, to say the least. 

So the fact that he was now pretty much stuck alone with you in the cramped space of your room for God knows how long? With nothing but your annoying presence, your petty comments, the stupidly pink colors of your room, and your maddening scent to keep him company?

To say that Saeran was in a sour mood would be like saying nothing at all.

Of course, no one was making him stay here. But he wasn't naive enough to let you out of his sight during a power outage. Like hell he would. He just knew you'd try to do something stupid and annoying, as you always do. Like escaping. Or making him look bad in front of the Savior on purpose as revenge for everything he put you through. Or sabotaging their paradise by seeking out that cursed liar that was like a cockroach you couldn't kill no matter how much you stomp on it with the heel of your boot. Just because you never tried doing any of that before didn't mean he would let his guard down for you. He knew you'd take advantage of that as soon as you could.

Not on his watch, you won't. He was going to sit right here with you and watch over your every move until he could continue to do so from his cameras like usual. Even if the sight of you was as irritating as a fly buzzing in front of the screen. 

Though what he truly hated the most about this entire predicament was how you somehow managed to make him look like the more anxious one between the two of you. 

Because he wasn't anxious.

Not one bit. 

And the booming sounds of thunder rumbling through Magenta had no effect on him. 

Nor was he on edge because of the storm outside throwing long branches of surrounding trees against your window with every gust of wind.

It was you.

It was always you.

Everything was your fault.

“-No, I will not shut up,” you grumbled, pulling him out of his angry spiral. Your arms were crossed over your chest defiantly as you huffed and shifted in the chair you were seated in, your eyes following his every move as he paced around your room like a lion in a cage. The chair creaked and groaned under your weight, the sound only irritating him further. A small part of him thought of stealing that damn chair from you and making you stand just for the sake of it, but that was way too childish even for him. At least he could see that it was kind of uncomfortable for you. The back wasn't tall enough to reach your shoulders correctly, making your back a bit stiff. Or maybe it was his presence making you tense up so much. He could live with that. Though, that self-assured look you were giving him was really getting on his nerves. “It’s not my fault you guys forgot to schedule a thunderstorm into your plans. And I'm not forcing you to stay here, either. So quit yelling at me already.”

Did you have to always talk back to him like that?

"Well, it's not my damn fault either,” he snapped back at you as he moved away from the wall he was currently leaning against, stomping up to your bed, a heavy sigh escaping his lungs, betraying the exhaustion he was feeling on the inside. God, he hated how soft and inviting that bed of yours looked. Like a forbidden fruit calling out for him to give in and try a taste of its promise of rest. He hated how you could snuggle up under those plush bedsheets comfortably while he was left to sleep, sitting at his desk for thirty minutes at most. Suffering from nightmares more often than not on top of that. So, he falls back onto your bed unceremoniously, feeling the soft material welcome his added weight as it dips under him.

He was only able to lie back for a minute, though, your scent quickly assaulting him stronger than ever before, making him get up again and start pacing around your room, agitation rolling off of him in waves. His irritability was increasing by the second, and you were the only one he could turn his anger towards. As you often were.

“But you're still pissing me off.”

“-Oh, I’m pissing you off, am I?” 

His head snapped in your direction, watching you stand up from your seat, crossing your arms again. Deep down, he knew he was being unfair to you, really. Of course he knew that. Saeran wasn't an idiot, nor was he naive. In a way, that was the point of it all. And he sure hoped you would finally break and prove him right. Give him something he could throw back into Ray's stupid face next time he whines about you being this devoted and perfect angel that cares for them in a way no one else did. 

That was just a load of bullshit.

So, he let you walk up to him, a heated glare to your eyes that rivaled his own. Some part of him was expecting you to hit him, his muscles tightening up under his tight suit like a coiled spring, fully ready on jerking away and covering his face in a movement that was way too familiar to him. Instead, you simply leaned towards him, backing him up against the wall until his back gently bumped against the smooth surface, your hands now resting on both sides of his arms, caging him in. Though, there was still a significant distance between the two of you. You weren't necessarily looking down at him, nor were you trying to make him shrink away from you. 

A big part of him wished you did.

“You’re the one who came here, Saeran. I told you I wouldn't do anything. You just never listen to me." Your annoyed voice practically hissed into his ear, your breath fanning across his skin in warm puffs of air, contrasting against the anxious chill overtaking his body. He suppressed a shiver. He figured it was a shiver of disgust. It must have been. He sneers, his nose scrunching up in displeasure as he returns your heated glare with one of his own, his shoulders squared and his chin raised up high, refusing to show any weakness. 

“What, and listen to you? Don't make me laugh." Saeran mocked, pushing back against you, his eyes narrowing with simmering frustration that was just waiting to spill free, like a bubbling cauldron slowly coming to a boil. He leaned in so he could be eye-to-eye with you, not being intimidated in the slightest. Because that's what you were doing to him, surely. Trying to intimidate him. Scare him off. Break him. Well, he wouldn't let you. He tilted his head to look at you, his gaze filled with a silent challenge. “Forgive me for not taking orders from someone who's only good enough to be a helpless prince/ss and a useless toy."

A cocky smirk pulled at the corners of his lips as another teasing comment flew off the tip of his tongue with ease, fully intent on getting under your skin and riling you up further. Although his tone was mocking, his body was tense, his palms sweaty as he balled his hands up into tight fists. You backing him into a wall with your face so close to his didn't help at all with the rising tension in his muscles whatsoever. If anything, it made it worse. 

He was struggling to gather his thoughts, which only made him feel even more angry. Both with you and himself. He was usually very in charge of himself when he was in front of the other believers, but having you here—being pressed right up against him like this—left him completely unprepared. He had to struggle to stop himself from staring at your lips, a notion that scared and confused him all the same.

Much to his frustration, however, your lips only tugged upwards with a slight smirk of your own in response to his attempts at getting back at you. The fact that he almost had to look up at you in order to even glare at you properly pissed him off quite a bit. He did not like feeling small. He wanted you to think that he was big and imposing. Not someone who could be backed into a corner and looked down at. But you kept him firmly against the wall, preventing him from walking away without you directly letting him. It was supposed to be the other way around. And, in a way, he recognized that this was not the first time you were like this. Only your roles were reversed. And now it was you making him feel smaller than he really was. 

As his head tilted back, your own leaned in even closer to him, the smirk on your face only growing bigger. He'd like to say that it was cruel and mocking, but it was really more playful and amused. Which wasn't much better, considering the circumstances.

“...You sure have a sharp tongue, I'll give you that.”

He was making a genuine effort to ignore you now. He really was, but he felt his control slipping through his fingers like sand as your face got so impossibly close to his. He shifted against you, his jaw locked in place as he stubbornly looked away from you now instead of holding your gaze, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of seeing him break. In part, because he was breaking. His breathing was starting to get a little labored as he tensed, his arms twitching with the need to either pull you closer and pin you against this damn wall to show you who's really in charge here or grab you by the waist and shove you away so that his heart stopped beating so impossibly heavy in his chest. He didn't know which one of the two he would choose when push comes to shove, and that indecisiveness was making him more anxious than he was willing to admit. 

“And you're acting like you're in charge, stupid toy. Again.” His retort wasn't nearly as sharp of a response as he was hoping for, but his brain was far too jumbled to come up with anything more coherent. 

Your smirk faded and a frustrated frown took its place. Despite his initial glee at your annoyance with him, he really didn’t like it when you challenged him or disrespected him like this. Then again, he didn't like you no matter what you did. The main reason your presence was so damn infuriating to him. You looked like you really wanted him to shut up. A sentiment that was mutual on his part. But before he could muster up some other cold remark to crush that spirit of yours, you suddenly placed one of your hands down on his hip without giving him much of a warning. His breath stuttered slightly in his throat, his fingers twitching at his sides as he looked down at your face, eyes widening. The force with which he was clenching his jaw was causing it to ache slightly, but he refused to relax.

What were you getting at here? And why did your touch feel like hot iron being pressed up into his side? Or was it his body that was suddenly far too warm for comfort?

What were you doing to him...? 

You leaned in even further until your face was almost level with his, your breath mixing with his and fanning against his skin gently. 

“...Watch it. Or I might just shut that sharp mouth of yours up myself.” Your voice lowered into a low whisper as you spoke, a quiet warning. Or a promise. He couldn't really tell. Being so close to you made it more difficult to think clearly. He opened his mouth to say something, to protest against your audacity to speak to him in such a bold manner, yet nothing but a shaky exhale came out. His mind felt too empty and full at the same time, his eyes subconsciously darting down to your lips for the second time. A notion that you definitely took notice of, judging by how intently those eyes of yours were watching him. When the thick silence between the two of you remained unbroken for another long minute, you continued, your thigh now gently and slowly sliding between his legs to rest your knee against the wall behind him, bringing your body that much closer to him. Your scent hit his nostrils like a hurricane that made his head spin. "Or maybe... that's what you want me to do...? To make you stop thinking for a while?" 

He knew you wanted him to shut up and let you win this. But he was not going to let you. And this ploy of yours, whatever it was, was bound to fail. So, he was quick to open his mouth to retort with some sort of insult that would hopefully put you in your place. That’s when he saw it in your eyes. A sort of 'screw it' look, one you'd get when you felt like you had nothing to lose. And then you leaned forward just a tiny bit further and took hold of his chin with your free hand, making him look at you directly. He was prevented from doing or saying anything more by you practically slamming your lips against his, making him gasp sharply against your mouth.

It killed any words he had on his tongue. It took Saeran a second to process what you were-

Oh.

It was like a switch got flipped off inside his head. One part of him was utterly stunned and lost. The last thing he expected was for you to go and kiss him. Without him prompting for it or you pleading for your sweet Ray to return. Was this what you meant when you said you were going to shut him up? He knew of screaming at someone or hitting them to do that, but kissing? There must be something seriously wrong with you. 

And what's worse is that you were not kissing him like you kissed Ray out in the garden. This was rougher, more fervent, and raw. This was a memory being created between him and you. Not a recreation of something that already happened. And Saeran did not know how to deal with that. How to accept that you were kissing him. As Saeran. The same Saeran that did everything he possibly could to make you break, to hurt you, to use you to feel strong and invisible. 

Your lips were warm and soft against him, even as you pressed them against him with more force than he expected. There was no pain in this action. He didn't know much, if anything, about kissing. What to do, or how to reciprocate. But a big part of him expected you to sink your teeth into his lip and draw blood. You didn't. You were simply brushing your lips against his, the hot touch making his blood boil in his veins. You didn't go any further than that, starting to pull back from him all too soon. Maybe because he just stood there, frozen as a statue.

He didn't want that. 

He didn't want to confront what you just did or what it meant. 

He didn't want to admit to himself that he wanted more—to explore what this connection between you would bring. A connection between him and you. Between Saeran and you. He refused to admit that he wanted to know what it feels like to be Saeran, and not a tool or a shield.

That's a wish he couldn't allow himself to fulfill. And in some backwards streak of desperation to avoid dealing with all these feelings that were about to swallow him whole, he refused to let this end.

He switches immediately, his hand moving to the back of your head as he pulled your body flush against his and chased after your lips before you could pull back from him completely. He didn't give his action much thought. It was clumsy and desperate, his movements making it crystal clear he had no idea what he was doing, teeth clashing together and lips smacking at an awkward angle. He hated that you had the upper hand on him even here. You seemed surprised by his rather intense reciprocation, a muffled noise of surprise escaping you, but you don't push him away. You kissed him back, your own hand raising to cup his cheek, and he did his best to follow your movements, copying your motions the best he could. 

His hand on the back of your head grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging on it slightly, making you emit a brief hiss into his mouth, one that he hungrily swallowed, his heart left stuttering in his chest for a completely different reason from before. It made him feel alive. He wanted more of it. More of you.  His other hand found your thigh on a primal whim, and he grabbed at it absentmindedly, to which you lifted it up to wrap it around his waist, the increased closeness between you two making him shudder against you, something between a whine and a growl rumbling at the back of his throat. He was not thinking clearly at all; he just knew he wanted you to be as close to him as possible right now.

To make the deafening thundering of his heart against his ribcage draw out the roaring of the storm outside that kept him so on edge in the first place. To stop him from thinking. He wanted his head blissfully empty for once in his miserable existence.

Only you.

Your touch.

Your warmth.

Your smell.

You.

He pushed you backwards, breaking the kiss for just long enough to stumble you both to the bed, pushing you down onto your back without a word being spoken, and climbing on top of you immediately.

You managed a quiet grunt, your eyes widening as he climbed on top of you. Feeling your shared weight dip the soft blankets and bedsheets of the bed, he let out a small noise of protest as you wordlessly rest your palms against his chest, preventing him from diving for another kiss with you. Your lips were parted as you finally regained your breathing a bit. Whether that was from the kiss itself or the sheer emotional intensity of what this all meant for you both from then on, he didn't know. A soft, slightly shaky exhale escaped you both almost in unison, and he was now left to stare down at you as your chest rises and falls slowly. Your expression was a mix of surprise and desire as you looked up at him, stunned and mesmerized. And that... scared him. It scared him because he hadn't expected you to like being close with him like that. He wasn't Ray right now. He wasn't even trying to pretend to be Ray for you. He was just... Saeran. In all his messiness and ugliness. 

And, most of all, it scared him because it felt so goddamn good. Because your warmth made all the buzzing thoughts that were constantly screaming at him at the back of his own skull quiet down. You were crumbling his fragile facade into a thousand pieces. And you were simultaneously making him feel more at ease with that than he ever felt.

He definitely was not expecting you to be so bold, either. It goes without saying that his goal of making you terrified of him has failed rather spectacularly. 

Your hand found its way to his waist again, resting just over his hip. Surely you could feel just how thin and boney he was under this tight-fitting suit. The truth of him being far weaker than he let on. But you didn't grab at him, nor did you push him off. Your fingers just squeezed him enough for him to feel the heat from your palm seeping through the multiple layers of clothing, soothing his cold skin.

“...What happened to the snarky comments? Feeling a little speechless now, are we?” you flirted, breaking through the silence, your voice coming out in a breathless murmur. The hand on his hip moved and settled over his stomach, with your thumb tracing a small circle against him. He shivered, his breath hitching sharply.

He had a hard time overlooking just how good you looked sprawled beneath him like him. The sight alone was making his suit feel a bit hotter than it should. You looked almost ethereal like this. Nothing but the faint light from the window eluminating your features, an occasional flash of lightning giving him just the briefest of glimpses of you as a whole. Your lips parted just slightly, reddened in color from the heated kiss you've just shared with him, your cheeks a noticeably deeper shade than they were before. Your eyes half-lidded and twinkling as they looked back at him. Seeing him. Not Ray. Him. 

He made you look like this. 

Saeran swallowed, his hands shaking as they rested against the plush mattress on either side of your head. He knew, in that singular moment, as he tried his damnest to even out his breathing, that there was no coming back from this. You saw his weakness, and he did nothing against it. 

And he liked it. 

"You... I hate you," he muttered, his voice hoarse and shaky, barely audible over the sound of rain drumming against the window.

"No, you don't," you simply responded, your free hand reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb swiping just under his eye. He grabbed at your hand, keeping it there. He did not argue with you.

"...Kiss me again." 

[all-pacas]

OKAY. 13 AND CHASE IN AFTER HOURS THO

The fact that when 13 needs help, she calls Chase. Why does she call him? Why doesn't she call someone else? She needs someone to deliver her a portable ultrasound, and okay, you could argue Foreman is a bad call because he's her ex and would pry. That House would just refuse. Taub would have been a good pick tbh, he would drop it off and just go home no questions asked. But no, she calls Chase

(And I love that call. "You doing anything?" "Oh, yeah, I'm just about to go out," Chase lies blatantly, asleep in bed with a book on the crusades on his chest. Like the loser he is. I don't know that it was done well but I love how S7 examines his Dumb Whore tendencies: it isn't really him, it's a rebound. He does it again when he gets stabbed.)

And of course the second he shows up he immediately sees through 13's excuses and pushes his way into the apartment. Because we love Chase's observation skills triumphing over his laziness.

13 tells Chase the prison backstory. Like! It's kind of glossed over. She hasn't told this to anyone else. She doesn't hide it. I killed my brother. It wasn't murder. Chase is just pacing, you just know he's twigged as hell, he's so anxious all at once as she tries to brush past it. The idea that 13 kind of had to tell him to explain Darrien's presence but she's also — House is the only other person who knows.

CHASE: Have you talked to anybody about it? I mean, are you okay?

Like we know this immediately triggered something in Chase, but 13 doesn't, and seeing him so anxious and pacing and ignoring the bleeding dying woman as 13 works, it's just. Incredible. It's good. He cares immediately, he's relating to this immediately.

But I love seeing them work together. Like they just immediately go in sync, Chase offering suggestions and 13 doing the work. They're just. It's nice.

SIDE NOTE: House says he called everyone before he called Cuddy. We see him call 13 and Taub. Chase is off picking up drugs, we don't see House call him, but like. He had to have called Chase first, right? Did Chase not pick up? Did he blow him off because he already was dealing with someone bleeding to death in someone's apartment??

The way they fight oh my god. The way 13 just is trying to fucking murder Chase. She punches him, she claws and shoves him, and then he just clocks her and stares horrified as she falls to the floor. Like it's an actual fight, it's brutal, it's so good. They hurt one another. I can't explain it but I love how brutal it is, that they both walk away with bruises, that it isn't pretty. Incredible. Amazing scene.

CHASE: You were defending your friend beyond all rationality, granting her the right to die in your bedroom. Was it really all because of a promise? 13: That word means something to some people. CHASE: Not that much. […] CHASE: You promised your brother you'd euthanize him and you think you won't feel bad about it as long as you can blame it on the promise. That's why you have this twisted obligation to keep all promises… or your carefully constructed defense mechanism could crumble down. 13: I saved my brother from a lot of pain.

!! Chase keeps bringing it up, he keeps bringing up her brother, not out of I can't believe you did a murder or I can't believe you went to prison but: you must hate yourself. He's calling her out on her coping mechanisms, he's calling her out on her guilt, and it's so fucking clear what he means is I get it but he's not saying that part. 13 killed her brother and now has to believe she did the right thing, no matter what, no matter how she feels. She's taking away her own agency: it was for a promise, it was his decision, she had nothing to do with it, it's fine, it doesn't feel bad. Chase killed Dibala and told himself it was for the greater good, it was morally just, it was the right thing to do, it doesn't feel bad. And it nearly destroyed him. And so he's pushing and pushing at it. He never goes 13 went to prison! he never goes it's so crazy you did that! Whenever he brings it up it's only in the context of how worried he is about her. Has she spoken to someone? Is she coping? Is this healthy? Is she okay? He's so worried. He cares so much.

I adore 13 and Chase running out of ideas with Darrien and calling dad. Most sibling coded of all time. Just. And the fact that House doesn't allude to also being in the hospital, actively bleeding and in pain, just, yes, we gotta help bail you two idiots out. Beautiful moment.

Chase getting 13 ice and coffee and still feeling guilty for punching her out, and 13 not blaming him at all. Like. You know. Don't beat people up. But in this one case I totally approve. Because I love it.

13: Darrien had to shoot that kid. It was the right thing. Completely justified. But it didn't matter. She destroyed her life trying to forget. I'm afraid that's what's gonna happen to me. CHASE: You really should talk to someone. 13: I've talked to a therapist. It didn't help. CHASE: Well, maybe you should talk to someone who isn't a therapist. 13: Do you really think you have any idea what it's like to live with something like this? CHASE: Let's grab a coffee.

Since the second Chase found out, this is what it's been leading towards. I love that he doesn't answer, he doesn't say a thing, but this is what he's been thinking all episode, why he's been pushing, why he's been so worried and caring: talk to me. Tell me you're not okay. Tell me everything isn't fine. And 13 holds it back until the end of the case, until it's over and she has no distractions. It's not at all clear Chase himself has talked to someone about Dibala, btw. He probably hasn't.

And how insane is that. He never told Foreman or House; they figured it out. He told Cameron: she left him. (Imagine being 13, hearing this. Realizing the timeline. She went to their wedding. What did she think happened when Cameron just … left? How quickly does she figure it out now?) House told Chase to talk to someone, Chase tried Confessing, but whenever he's tried to tell anyone it's gone terribly for him. I don't think he has talked to anyone. But he repeats House's advice to 13: talk to someone. (Talk to me.) He's offering her what he never got. And their situations are different, hers is much more sympathetic and easy to accept than his. Chase never goes I never got help or you have nothing to feel bad about or implies he doesn't think it's a big deal: his entire reaction is just empathy. He wants 13 to get what he didn't get, he wants to help.

The song that plays over the end of the episode is Bon Iver's Flume. And as much as you can apply it to House, and Cuddy, and Wilson, and all of that — it's a song about feeling isolated, feeling alone and being afraid of letting go. Of holding on to things that stain and hurt. The lyrics that play while 13 and Chase are having their coffee in the conference room, though:

i wear my garment/so it shows now you know

And I just! I love! Them! The ways 13 and Chase are so alike and so damaged, the way Chase reacts with empathy and care and wants her to have what he didn't, the way they know one another's secrets and worst moments and rely on one another so easily. 13's secrecy is a meme, in and out of universe, but Chase is absolutely no better: he won't even admit he's Catholic when talking to a nun. They're private to faults, they mask by sleeping around and taking risks and pretending not to care, they hide their hurts and then somehow, they punch one another in the face and know everything. I'm just. I'm so obsessed with them. I want them like this always.

[naussensei]

Satosugu's First Mission

“Not gonna lie, this is a little depressing.” Said Suguru, kneeling to inspect the lower Ferris wheel carts. “Why did our first mission together have to be in a grim place like this?

“Easy.” Said Satoru, he was doing the same thing on the other side of the ride. “Places like this hold large amounts of cursed energy. All the emotions from the people who came here. It lingers.”

“I would’ve thought this was a place for happy memories only.” Suguru said, trying to pry open a rusty door handle. He grimaced as it fell off, and he wiped the rust off his hand with a look of disgust. “Isn’t this where kids come for birthdays or something?”

“And where couples come for dates and stuff. Exactly.” Satoru agreed as he stood up. “But anywhere people gather can turn into a curse hotspot. Subway stations, shopping centers, amusement parks. Just imagine – the kids scared of heights, couples breaking up, parents arguing… the list goes on.”

It was no surprise to Suguru now that Satoru could be quite knowledgeable sometimes. Not that he would ever tell him that to feed his ego, but he could still acknowledge it in his mind. 

They continued to inspect the ride together, Satoru in the front, climbing up the next cart, pulling Suguru up. He was just about to keep climbing when something occurred to him.

“So, couples, huh?” He said in the most nonchalant way he could manage, to hide his discomfort with the subject. He didn’t know a single thing about dates, or amusement parks for that matter, he had never been to either of them, and the thought of Satoru having more experience than him was almost humiliating. “Is that like, a thing? People go to theme parks for dates?”

“Duh, obviously.” Satoru said with a confident grin, then paused for a moment. “I mean… I guess. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”

Suguru’s curiosity was piqued. “Have you ever been on a date?” he asked.

Satoru scoffed, inspecting the inside of the cart. “Do you think the strongest sorcerer has time for dating?”

Suguru couldn’t help but grin. “So you haven’t.”

“Have you ?” Satoru countered.

“Me?” Suguru said, smiling with resignation. “Do you think the biggest weirdo in the normie world has time for dating?”

Satoru turned to him then, and Suguru was taken aback for a moment. The moonlight poured through the shattered window, casting a faint glow on Satoru’s face. Suguru couldn’t see his eyes behind the shades, which made him feel a bit uneasy, but by Satoru’s expression he seemed to be assessing something carefully, something that Suguru could not quite figure out.

“Fair,” Satoru finally said, and the moment he turned away again, Suguru caught a glimpse of a faint smile. The slightest feeling of satisfaction warmed Suguru’s chest when he did, because for once, he’d made Satoru laugh more than once in a night. Suguru’s own smile grew then, too, because he knew the meaning of that subtle smile. It was the perpetuation of a silent ‘were not that different after all’ that Satoru would never voice, but he didn’t have to. 

“By the way… Shoko has never been on a date either.” Satoru said with putty lips, as if that made the situation more acceptable for them.  “Not that I know, anyway. I never see her talk to any guys, other than Kusakabe.”

“Uh, right…” Suguru uttered. He had a good idea as to why he hadn’t seen her talking to guys, but he would not be the one to tell him that. For all he knew, Satoru could be interested in her. He’d rather redirect the subject to them again.

“16 and not a single date.” Suguru said, taking a seat on the worn bench to look out the window. “What a bunch of losers.”

“I’m still 15 for your information.”

“Yeah?” Suguru’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “When’s your birthday?”

“Why?” Satoru’s eyebrows rose even higher than his as he grinned. He bent down to Suguru’s eye level. “Are you gonna buy me a present? Otherwise I won’t tell you.”

Suguru sank back into his seat a little, yet held his grin. “Sure. I may, actually. That’s… if we don’t die tonight.”

“Dumbass.” Satoru scoffed, rising to kick Suguru softly on the shin. “Nobody is dying tonight.”

He collapsed on the seat in front of him, hands still in his pockets, the weak cart wobbling a little as he did. Then he looked outside the broken window. Suguru did so as well.

The night was still as ever, a cool breeze seeped through the hole in the window. It was dark and cold, but somehow, it was not unpleasant at all. Suddenly, Suguru did not feel like moving anywhere.

“December 7th,” said Satoru all of a sudden.

It took a moment for Suguru to realize he was talking about his birthday. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a smile.

Satoru cocked his head at him. “Yours?”

“February 3rd.” Suguru shrugged, giving him an apologetic smile. “Turned 15 this year.”

“Ah, that’s not fair.”

“You kinda already gave me a birthday present.” Said Suguru, taking out his new phone from his pocket. 

“Oh, that’s right!” Satoru said excitedly, moved to sit beside him and take the phone from him, no permission asked whatsoever. His face glowing with an excitement that Suguru could not relate to, but enjoyed watching in Satoru either way. “Did you change your wallpaper already? What tune did you customize it with?”

“I haven’t.” Admitted Suguru, slowly taking his phone back and moving closer to the window to make some space between them, and felt that if he moved any further he would fall out the cart. “We’re on a mission, Satoru. Now it’s not the–”

“Oh, give me that. It takes five seconds. I’ll send you one from my phone.” Said Satoru, his fingers already working on it before Suguru could even decline. 

Suguru watched him do so in silence. It was a good thing at least one of them seemed to be entertained.

“Here you go, loser.” Satoru said as he threw his phone back to Suguru with a playful smile.

“Thanks.” Suguru chuckled. “So, how does it feel to know you're just as much of a loser as I am when it comes to dating?”

Satoru rested his hands behind his head and sighed. “Feels pretty fucking terrible, not gonna lie.”

“Hmm,” Suguru brought a hand to his chin and looked up, thoughtfully. “Well, we can count this as a date. Kinda feels like it, doesn’t it?“

“Uh, no… pretty sure it doesn’t.” 

“How would you know if you've never been on a date?”

“Right,” Satoru scoffed, “because chasing cursed objects in a shitty place like this sounds very romantic.”

Suguru’s smile was smug. “Didn't take you as a romantic.”

“I’m not.” Satoru elbowed him softly. “Now stop talking and focus on the mission. ”

“Why?” Suguru’s grin grew wider. “Are you embarrassed?”

“I’m not.” Satoru said, averting his gaze, hand still behind his head. “I just wanna get this over with quickly. I don’t want Yaga or Yamato to yell at us for taking so long.”

Suguru leaned forward, seeking Satoru’s avoidant gaze. “We can still count it as a date and feel a little better about ourselves.” He said with a comforting smile, but Satoru had just stood to move out of the cart and begin their descent. Suguru followed closely behind.

“We’ll just omit the part about it being with a friend.” He insisted as they landed on the ground. Seeing that Satoru would not react, he added with a playful wink. “I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”

“Ugh,” Satoru hung his head forward. “Why are you talking so much today? You never talk. I liked you better when you were quiet.”

“Oh?” Suguru speeded up the pace to walk by his side. “Are you saying you did like me before?”

“Do you ever shut up?” Satoru whined as he dragged his feet to continue their way to the next ride. 

Suguru circled closely around him to walk on his other side.  “But you’re always complaining that I’m too quiet and boring, and that I try to be ‘mysterious’ and don't share enough about myself, and now suddenly you don't want me to talk?”

Satoru rolled his eyes and made a disgusted face. “And you couldn’t have picked a better time than in the middle of a fucking–”

Suguru could not hear the end of Satoru’s sentence. His voice was swallowed by the deafening roar that came from under their feet, the same kind they had heard back in the shopping mall earlier, but several times louder and more unsettling. They looked at the ground, exchanged a glance, and looked down again. The earth rumbled under their feet briefly, until it went quiet again.

“What was that?” Suguru said, catching his breath, his heart still jumping in his throat.

“A curse, evidently.” Even Satoru seemed a little startled. Though he quickly composed himself, and was now gazing up at the buildings, eyes moving rapidly, as though machinating a plan.

“Curse?” Suguru chuckled ironically . “More like a giant animal. I thought we were after a cursed object, not freaking Godzilla.”

“It definitely seems like a big one.” Satoru agreed, gaze still upwards as he began to look for a way up. “We should climb higher, to get a better visual. It may not be the only one around.”

“Wait,” Suguru stopped in his tracks, holding Satoru by an arm. “I have an idea.”

From: Our Last Summer in Ao3

[runabout-river]

No matter what Gege does with Gojo, I don’t think it will be satisfying for me

I considered every option for what could possibly happen with Gojo, regardless of how likely I think they are, and I genuinely can't find myself considering any of them a satisfying conclusion.

**1. He is dead and no one will mention him in the last chapter.**

Hate this. So much. Random civilians in Shibuya were shown respect by Yuji in the middle of chaos and panic, but nobody has ANYTHING nice to say about Gojo?? Since the fight ended, we got Kusakabe saying he is at fault for not killing Yuji and Shoko calling him an idiot (endearingly) for not destroying Geto's body. Lovely.

**2. He is dead and somebody will say something or we will be shown a grave.**

Better but still bad. I feel like the ship has sailed at this point. They had a chance while reflecting on the fight and we got nothing. Megumi and Shoko were at Tsumiki's grave and... we got nothing. I think it's pretty safe to say no one will be mourning him in the last chapter, they're already going on missions after all. And a simple mention feels incredibly cold and empty.

**3. He is dead but will come back to life due to his soul still not departing and sacrificing one of the Six Eyes in a binding vow.**

I won't comment on how possible or not this is because Yuta managed to return to his body simply by being in proximity of Rika. If Gege wants to write it, he can. However, we are talking about the last chapter of the manga and this would absolutely take away the spotlight from Yuji. Not to mention that this route needs groundwork that I don't think 19 pages can provide for. ALSO, this still doesn't explain why nobody is sad or willing to acknowledge him because, to them, he is dead.

**4. He is actually alive and that's why nobody has been shown to be sad about him.**

Would make sense in terms of characters like Yuji and Yuta not showing any emotion towards him. But this isn't like Nobara's situation. Like I said, it needs build up. A character like Gojo should be shown making his choice, not just appearing out of nowhere. It would add absolutely nothing to his arc and would honestly be pure fanservice.

**5. The dream theory.**

I don’t know how much you've heard about this but there is a theory going around that these last chapters or more have all been a dream. I won't do any analysis on the validity of it because this isn't important to my point. "Who's dream?" is the actual question here.

**a) It is Yuji's dream.**

You want to tell me somebody as kind and compassionate as Yuji has no place for his teacher in his dream of a happier tomorrow? Get out of here.

**b) It is a collective dreamlike state, a product of Sukuna's activation of the Merger despite the rules imposed on it.**

Again, nobody, not a single soul, has it in their heart to include Gojo in their dream? In any way other than criticizing him? It would go against all the care Yuji and Yuta have shown for him and be a genuinely awful characterization. It would show he was actually not loved at all, something we know isn't true.

**c) It is Gojo's dream.**

So, Gojo is dreaming of a world where his body is used as a weapon, his students don't care enough to even mention his name and life goes on as if he never existed? He can imagine himself being blamed but not having a place in his ideal future? Do you want me to kill myself?

I would really like to hear opinions or other options if you have any. Right now, this is all just sad.

*Cracks Knuckles*

First of all, I have read the dream theory and I believe it's possible but for now we take the last chapters at face value.

Yes, the lack of any mourning for Gojo (and Choso) is sad and a sour note at the end of the manga. We already had this lack of regard for his death during the Shinjuku fights. There I could understand though how the characters pushed all their feelings to the side once Gojo had been defeated.

They needed to act fast and steadfast, so we got most of their concern and other emotions while Gojo was still fighting.

Now though there is no excuse anymore. JJK had alwasy been a little loose when it came to the slower and reflective moments but Gege had the space the previous chapter to fill it with somehting meaningful. Instead we got an unnecessary explanation of the New Shadow Style school system that's just plain unimportant three chapters before the end.

So in that regard, yes, Gege fumbled it. Even in the driest part of Gojo's death, there still should've been an earth-shattering shake up of the status quo the same way his birth had changed the jujutsu world. But that was also lacking because chapter 270 basically erased all conflict in the story.

So what will happen now?

Your option 1) hate it, too :D

Option 2) nothing to add. Perfectly said how Gojo should've already been talked about instead of letting it go to the last chapter where he most likely won't get centre stage.

Now to Option 3/4) First, the last chapter will be longer than 19 pages. It was either double or tripple the length of a normal chapter so there is more time to flesh the last things out. Second, I have my own theory on how Yuta using Kenjaku's CT on Gojo's body and then getting ejected from it, might've have permanently revived Gojo.

I don't like Gojo being just alive though because that would be anticlimatic and detrimental to the high stakes and emotions that came before. It would be just one more thing in this super happy ending everyone got (except Choso). What could work though is Gojo's body being alive but in a vegetatitve state. Then it would be open ended how his story would go on.

Now the thing about the dream theory is: Yuji only imagines the good things. That's why characters where their death was ambiguous are all alive and only those who had been 100% confirmed dead are dead. With Yuji doing the dreaming, he would push negative feelings about death away and mourning is one such feeling and he had done exactly that previously as well.

If this theory comes true, Yuji would be mourning way more than just Gojo's death at the end. He would also be mourning the good end he envisioned for everyone. And that's sad but also... what I would prefer in contrast with this sugar cloud of a happy ending.

[oh-katsuki]

being a writer and putting my work on the internet can be a little hard (rly hard), especially when i don't post fic often or frequently or spend a lot of time on one fic in particular.

like as a writer, i know i have a lot to work on. i constantly see things that need improvement or change. lots of fundamental parts of my stories are full of things or centered around things that i'd like to improve on. and i recognize that. i always have room to grow and get better.

it's tough though because being able to see and be critical of what i'm lacking as an artist makes it really hard to post a story or fic with confidence. even a finished story has things i'd like to change or improve on, though most of the changes are entirely structural or habitual, which are really hard to correct without rewriting the fic entirely. for example, as i was beta reading the notebook theory, i realized that a lot of my long fics follow the same story structure with little variation (specifically when it comes to smut). i tend to write within the same confines of storytelling with a shift in plot, motivations, themes, and characters. outside of that though, i've realized that a lot of things that i write are, more or less, very similar.

this could be because i have not been very into writing smut in the first place recently so the insertion of the scene feels unnatural and repetitive, or because i have written within the same genre of pining romance for about a year and a half now, or it could be something entirely different. it's probably a plethora of short comings that i have as a writer that i need to address one by one.

anyway, all of this to say that knowing those things and being in a stage of my writing journey where the places i need to improve are GLARINGLY obvious, makes it super hard to feel secure posting. i'm having trouble feeling proud of what i write. being honest, it feels like my stories and fics go absolutely nowhere and say absolutely nothing, though i hope that they don't come across that way to others who read them.

i'm having trouble seeing the value in my work because of it, which is a really tough pill to swallow. that sucks too because i write what i do for myself and not being able to see the value in it makes me really frustrated. i guess the best way to describe it is that even after finishing a long fic, i feel very stuck. frankly, i've been feeling this way since i started writing the inbetween, but i think i've only just put my finger on the reason. i think im frustrated with my writing style and the types of stories that i tell, which is difficult because i really like the genre i write in. they feel very stale to me and i'm having trouble viewing myself as a good writer, within or outside of that genre. it's not that i have to be good, but i want to be and i want to continue improving, i just feel like i've hit a ceiling that i can't move beyond.

and all that makes it a little scary to post something or to start something. i'm kind of sitting here now, adding the final touches to the notebook theory, and wondering if it's even worth posting. which i know is stupid because i worked hard on it and it doesn't have to be perfect. idk i guess lately all of the things i write have this perpetual feeling of incompletion that i can't seem to get rid of no matter what i change, rewrite, or edit.

anyway, that's all. these are just some thoughts i've been having.

[twilightarcade]

huge fan of married in red's lack of winning and losing and heroes n villains yknow

[miamicommune]

thinking abt how nemesis kind of sets up what should be the most thematically interesting ambition in FL and how quickly that fades as it goes

[just-rogi]

.

[doctorweebmd]

i have been experiencing The Agonies with some increasing frequency over the past month and at least TRYING to put in The Work to keep myself mostly functional and human which is great and all but now since I’m Managing the overwhelming guilt of Not Managing Enough is quite stifling. Like i feel ok enough to be guilty about not feeling more okay does that make sense 

[tonycries]

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[mgsdelta]

being poor is literally so miserable