#im not trigger warning and im sure you can understand why

[dancingastralwitch]

I hope you're all aware of what's going on in Palestine. If you're not, they lost contact with wifi yesterday night and Israel are bombing hospitals, houses, shelters, and schools, using white phosphorus in real time, which is an internationally-banned weapon.

Palestinians are being annihilated in real time in the dark without access to internet. Israel already cut off water, electricity, food, and most hospitals in Gaza have already shut down. They have a full blown medical crisis, the ministry of education announced that the 2023-24 school year was cancelled because all the students are DEAD.

Last night, the bombing made the sky ORANGE. You could see Gaza on fire from the Egyptian border.

I'm going to reblog resources where you could find more information, and I'm gonna ask you all to do the same. Please. Palestinians are humans just like the rest of us, and the world wants them gone without question.

Don't let Israel get away with this.

[prettyboykatsuki]

HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO | PART 2

⊹ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)

⊹ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.

all sexual content present in this part.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF NONCON, COERCION, AND SEXUAL VIOLENCE.

⊹ wc ; 18.4k / 36.1k

link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.

LINK TO PART ONE.

⊹ a/n ; here's part two!! miss ame has read it so im all good to post. i will upload to ao3 as soon as im awake i promise lol. hope you enjoy the fic and please heed the tags. likes and rbs always appreciated. also the last part is, relatively tame. the crazy gets amped up to ten so be careful.

⊹ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.

"You must learn, once you have sampled the freedom of a life without a chain, that it is better to return and be chained again. Or you may learn that it is not—a fugitive is also a kind of dog." - andrew kane, how to be a dog.

⊹ PART TWO : SOMETHING TAKEN IS BORROWED. SOMETHING RUINED IS YOURS. 

Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white. 

Gojo Satoru sits on his hands and watches the blizzard outside from his window. His apartment is dark and there’s frost on his window. He can hear the wind from inside, and can feel the cold chill of glass as he stands close to it.  

Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white. Spring feels like an innocent century ago. 

Nothing’s changed, but everything is different. It’s starting to feel comedic. It’s so cyclical. He has two states of being. Being with you, and not. It dictates his internal world. He functions the same as usual. Repetition. Working, coming home, and waiting. 

Gojo feels like he’s waiting. Perpetually waiting for time to set again so he can see you. There’s something in him only you can fulfill - an itch only you can scratch. Gojo is drawn to irreplaceable people, so perhaps it’s no surprise that he’s latched onto you this way. 

There’s nothing to call it other than greed. Sometimes love, but mostly greed. A habit he can’t break free from. Gojo wants to see you. He doesn’t know why either. There’s not any particular reason. Or if there is, he hasn’t examined it too deeply. Gojo has always known in some innate way that he’s lonely. That his loneliness makes him untouchable - but not in the same way it might make a God. 

The thought of doing anything without you makes paranoia creep up in his throat like bile. Gojo is that sort of lonely. Is it too much to ask to be next to someone, who never goes anywhere he can’t see? Monopolizing your time and all the ways to do it best take up most of his energy. 

When was the last time anyone made him feel warm, in the cold white of winter? He thinks maybe he realized it too late, that he cares about you this much. 

The reality is that Jujutsu Sorcerers are better off learning how to cut their losses. You love people and they die. You like people and they die. Gojo doesn’t think he can accept that from you so easily. He doesn’t think he should have too.

Does he need a good reason to want to keep you?

Gojo doesn’t want to make you hate him. He just wants to make sure you’re alive even if it means you might hate him. You might never understand either. Because you are still foolish, naive and human. Is that really asking for so much?

It makes him hesitate from the call to action. That instinct in his bones. He sees having met you as a blessing from the Heavens who’ve banished him. Gojo Satoru is not god. He understands God, but he’s not God.

No matter how much Gojo reaches for omnipotence, his long fingers can’t stretch towards it. Godliness is uninhabitable, an abandoned house. If Gojo casts his eyes on you for more than one second, he can do nothing but long. How can God long? Perhaps if he were more godlike, he could treat your inevitable death like a sacrifice. A martyrdom, or proof of your undying love for him.

Despite that, he understands how God's love can reach. Inciting violence to bring you closer to him is merciful. It’s only then you’ll come to understand it to the highest extent. That Gojo loves you after all, more than anything mortal in his world. He can hold all of you in his hands, keep you safe for the rest of your life. It’s what he wants so badly. If you just give him the chance to protect you - he could do it so easily. 

Religion can be so much like a dog and its master. Maybe, you could understand Gojo’s feelings if you saw it as an animal instinct to protect you. Even if it’s a falsity, a fictitious tale, detached from what's true. 

He doesn’t want you to hate him. He’s your watch dog, your keeper, your divine love. He needs you all to himself and he needs you to understand that you’re his reprieve. That in a universe decided by fate, the two of you are also red strings knotted together perversely. 

He needs you. He needs you. He needs you. 

Snow is falling. 

__

Come Saturday, Gojo receives a knock on his door. 

He’s usually sleeping in on the weekends, so he’s startled by it. School doesn’t start till later and if it was an emergency relating to sorcery - Yagi would’ve dialed him personally. He answers the door with sleep still in his, rubbing his eyelids as he yawns. He’s dressed in his P.J.’s with his hair messy and mind jumbled. 

He’s not unhappy though, when he opens the door up to see you. You’ve got something in your arms, a bag it looks like and a look on your face that Gojo can’t decipher. 

“Oh,” He says after registering who he’s talking to you “What’re you doing here so early?” 

You sigh, deeply, rubbing your arm. That anxious little habit again, your eyes darting every which way.

“A pipe broke in my apartment. Like, flooded the whole thing. Spent the whole morning scrounging my stuff together a-and I called maintenance but they won’t be here for a while and.” You stutter as you explain yourself and Gojo stares at you in confusion “I need a place to stay but going back to my parents right now is gonna be so hard and plus there’s work,” 

Gojo soothes you silently, putting a hand up. 

“Hey, calm down,” He says first, smiling up at you. He reaches out to pat your head “I’m here. It’s okay. Slow down and tell me what's wrong?” 

You sigh, closing your eyes and bracing yourself. 

“Would it be alright if I stayed with you? Just for a few days, until I figure this all out?” 

If God exists, maybe this is his way of giving Gojo grace. Gojo takes a minute to pretend, leans against his door frame and watches you fidget anxiously. He blinks at you, the way your teeth are pressing into your lip. You fold underneath the pressure of his gaze easily. He hums and haws.

“Hm,” He says, leaving you uncertain for as long as he can before you try to react. He’s memorized all your tells by heart “Well, there’s no reason not to, right? You’ll have to sleep in my bed though.” 

He half-jokes, but not really. He waits on your reaction. 

“Oh, uhm, then,” 

He interrupts just then, raising his voice. You jump back. 

“Just kidding! Of course you can stay with me. I’ll take the couch for a few days so don’t worry your pretty little head about it, okay? Stay as long as you like.” 

You look relieved. It makes Gojo smile a bit watching you take a deep breath, leaning on the door frame as he stares. 

“What?” You ask when you notice. He shakes his head. 

“It’s cute when you get nervous,” He says, inhibitions lowered. You pout at him and Gojo has to stop himself from reaching forward to grab your face in his hands. 

“You’re so mean,” You say with a sigh, arms crossed over your chest “I was really freaking out just now,” 

“I know, I know - but it’s kinda fun watching you fuss. Dunno. Maybe it’s cause I’m sleepy,” 

“You're wide awake right now!” You point out. He snorts. 

“Noo, what? I’m half-asleep right now,” 

“Gojo,” You whine, and he has to stop the blood rushing through his body “Let me in? Please?” 

“Try Satoru. Sa-to-ru,” He says. You frown at him, sighing as you rub your face. 

“Satoru,” You say, hardly getting the syllables out “L-let me in,” 

He pats your head one more time as your frown deepens. 

“Good girl,” He purrs, before switching his tone to a more lax one as he welcomes you “Come on in!” 

Another sigh of relief. Gojo finds it fascinating that you can find relief in his presence. It speaks to how well he’s been doing to make sure he’s acting in accordance to expectations. Despite how easy the opportunity has fallen into him, he doesn’t think it’s time yet. You’re still skittish.

Still, he should get something out of your stay here. And he will, but he should let you settle in first. He gives you a hum as you shuffle inside, standing awkwardly in his living room. He shuts the door behind you and locks it up. 

“Don’t be so stiff,” He says, waving a hand in the air before yawning “My home is your home. Be comfortable. Is there anything you need or wanna do?” 

“Could I borrow your shower?” 

Gojo feels something pressing into his ribs at the idea of you using his things  - sharp and sinful. 

“I was gonna shower this morning but, y’know.” You gesture vaguely. He’s quick to agree of course, nodding his head as he points in the general direction of the bathroom.

“Pretty sure our places are built the same so you should know where it is. The towels on the rack are all clean. Feel free to use anything in there and uhhh,” He scratches his head unsure of what else he needs to add. Though he’s certain he’s missing something “Oh, and I’ll give you some clothes,” 

You flush at the sentiment. So maybe you do know what this seems like, at least on the surface. Gojo peers at you as you turn his words over, interjecting before you have a chance to refuse. 

“Don’t say no,” He says, voice sing-songy. watching your expression morph into something nervous again. Maybe you caught it, because you certainly jump in your skin, but he switches into himself with ease.  Over and over and over - startling you never gets less fun “Let me play out my domestic fantasies a bit as compensation,” 

“That’s a bad joke,” You say, throat thick.

 You want to trust him don’t you? He wants to praise you for that. 

“Aw, c’mon. It’s lonely. Let me indulge a little,” He begs with enough lightheartedness that you don’t run away. 

“Geez. I thought you were popular with the ladies,” You try and joke back, though it’s stilted and awkward. He can tell you’re getting prepared to squeeze to the  bathroom before the conversation is too much. 

“Old ladies do love me,” He says contemplative. You elbow him lightly. 

“Stupid.”

He gives you a soft smile as you pass by him.

“Is there anything else that you need while you’re in there?” 

“I don’t think so,” You reply back. Gojo watches you disappear into the hall, trailing after you silently. He waits, listening carefully for the sound of the shower to turn on. 

When the water rushes, he follows you. 

He almost has a conscious standing in front of the closed door. The water pressure in his apartment is a little higher than it’s supposed to be. The closed walls keep all the noise inside them, making it almost impossible to hear what’s going on outside. Even with heightened senses like him. 

For someone like you, it’s probably impossible. 

It’s knowing that he follows behind you, lying in wait. He counts up to 5  minutes as he waits, letting you settle into it before he puts his hand on the door knob. He finds it unlocked. He’s pleased with that. 

You trust him, or you try too. 

When he feels certain you’re relaxed, he opens the door. He could teleport in but it’s noisy. Steam plumes outward as the door opens. He looks around the bathroom. Your clothes are folded neatly, with your pants hanging on the rack next to you. 

He stares at the fabric for a long time, contemplating what he has time for. 

Ultimately, he suppresses whatever urges come up to do what he came for. Too many to count and even more that are risky to act on. Instead, he checks the tags of each piece, committing it to memory. After, he stares at the shower curtain until he’s sure he overstayed his welcome. 

He leaves right after though, shutting the door just as quietly as he opened it. 

The less you know the better. Gojo makes his way back into the living room. 

He sits on his couch when he’s back. The sun hasn’t come up yet and he’s only turned on a single lamp for light. It’s hard for him to describe how he’s feeling. Things have been different for weeks now, but proceeding normally hasn’t caused him too many issues. Strangely the sense of routine has been grounding. 

He’s been dealing with it better than he expected. For all of that restraint to unravel so quickly is funny.

 But, Gojo thinks, that everything leading up to now must’ve been a sign. There are so many instances that befall him that feel aligned with fate. He’s naive in thinking you're different. He’s the only heir of the Gojo clan, the only one with the Six Eyes for nearly 400 years. He hears the water rush faintly through the walls of his apartment, picturing you trapped in those four walls. He thinks of how you met. Your proximity to each other.

It’s only now and in such circumstances does he think that you’re the due that the universe is paying back to him. Robbed of everything, of every joy he’s ever had - it’s both righteous and fair to take you. Gojo doesn’t want you to hate him. Not necessarily. 

But they always say in sickness and in health. Through the best of times and the worst. If you were made for him like he suspects (like he knows, believes deep down) then he thinks it’ll be fine. As long as it's you. As long as it’s yours. Even if you cry or scream, what matters to Gojo is that it’s yours. That he’s yours. 

Holding back is starting to be too much. Gojo’s never been the type to sit on his hands and wait. Being scared is so much like starving. Deprivation like that always threatens to turn Gojo to ruin. 

But like anything he does though, he can’t take the easy way out. There’s a method to the madness. An order even among his most disorderly actions, there’s things that need to be done the right way for the best possible outcome. On less of a whim than it seems, Gojo decides that he’ll do his best to make that reality happen. 

The thought settles in his body and suddenly he’s present again. He feels a pang of hunger in his stomach, causing him to stand to his feet. He feels lighter as he waltzes into the kitchen, whistling to himself on what he should make. Maybe crepes? He’s not a skilled cook but he’s pretty good at making those. 

At the very least, he thinks you’ll like them too. He proceeds into a normal-ish routine. He follows the motions of making breakfast as he hums to himself silently. Grabs a bowl from the cupboard, eggs and milk from the fridge, and flour from the pantry. 

He thinks to himself, immersing himself in the practical ritual. His comment from earlier about domestic fantasies was a half-joke at best. Gojo really does want to do this kind of thing with you, and he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to play the part either. Even if it’s temporary. He’s giddy at the thought of doing this with you everyday, a warm fluttery feeling spreading through his body. 

He grabs a whisk off of the wall as he dumps everything into an empty bowl, turning the heat of a non-stick low. He whistles a song he can’t remember the name of, cracking an egg on the metal edge. 

Despite living in a nicer part of Tokyo, Gojo has yet to have an induction stove top. It’s not uncommon to have gas for smaller, cheaper apartments. Most of the stovetops in the Jujutsu Tech dorms are gas and Gojo has no issue using them. He doesn’t cook for himself often in the first place, so he’s never thought to complain about it or get it changed. 

Maybe he should. Once you live here, it might get inconvenient. The thing about gas stoves is that they never heat evenly. It’s not impossible to work with, and the heat is easier to control - but induction lets every inch of the pan get hot the same way.

( He often thinks of the analogy for boiling a frog. If you put anything living in heat too directly, it’ll jump to save itself. But if you keep the heat tepid, gently raising the heat till it boils - it’ll let itself stay in the treacherous waters until the very end. It’s best to keep the heat even. It’s best to fix it sometime soon. )

The whisk makes a pleasant sound as it hits the bowl, metallic scratch softened by the presence of batter. He picks the whisk up and watches the yellow liquid drip off the edge, a hand over the pan. Still too cool to the touch, he clicks his teeth. 

He waits, idly. The shower turns off, he hears, and feels his breath hitch. He has to steel himself, curb his enthusiasm. 

Too much heat, and you’ll jump to save yourself. 

Once the pan is hot enough, Gojo busies himself with cooking.  It helps him distract himself, the monotony of pouring and flipping and waiting. He gets through almost 6 before he hears your feet pad gently across his hardwood floor, slipping into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your neck.

You’re wearing what seems like the only clothes you managed to bring. Gojo wonders how long it’ll last you. Despite it, he notices the way you smell. How you smell like all of his fancy bath products and soaps. There’s a twitch in his sweats that he barely gets under control. He lowers the heat and turns to you. 

“Morning,” He says. You giggle a little. 

“Morning. Are you making breakfast?” 

“Yes ma'am. The only thing I know how to make but,” He puffs his chest up “Pretty good, I’m told.” 

You roll your eyes at him, but smile anyway

“Guess I’ll be the judge of that,” 

“The audacity,” He says, full of theatrics “I’ll knock your socks off,” 

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” You say, flippant and giggly. Gojo decides then, maybe, in its entirety. That he’ll have all of you and soon “Can I help with anything?”

“Get started on some coffee maybe,” 

You nod your head and yawn. 

“Sounds good to me,” 

__ 

You decide to stay for a week. 

More precisely, Gojo convinces you to stay for a  week. That’s how long it will take for your apartment to get fixed completely. Concerned about inconveniencing him, you initially suggested 3 days - insisted you could find somewhere else or pay for a hotel for the rest of the time.

But Gojo insisted too. A week is more than fine (even longer would be better) and there’s no reason for you to go out of your way. Hotels are expensive, your parents live out in the countryside, and it’s not like you can’t board with a friend for a few days right? 

But won’t that trouble you? Of course not. Gojo doesn’t mind at all. It’s like having a week-long sleep-over. 

I don’t have the stuff I need. That’s fine. Gojo can take care of it. He already bought some clothes for you, an act of kindness. He can get the rest too. You can consider it a favor, if you really want to be sure. 

Are you sure? Of course he’s sure. More than sure. You’re doing him a big favor, he assures with nothing but affection. Being alone at home is pretty boring, anyways. What’s sleeping in the same room when we’re neighbors? 

Even with your unease, you agree to stay the whole week. You’re weak to being convinced, and hard-pressed on not fighting about things Gojo is adamant on. 

(He’d be stupid not to notice how your earnesty makes you easy to exploit. It’s a good thing it’s only Gojo who knows.) 

The first day passes quietly. You and Gojo go to your respective jobs and greet each other when you get home. At home, things are simple. Domestic. There’s no other way to view it. You graded papers and looked over lesson plans in the living room while Gojo got in his daily sets - TV playing in the background with neither of you particularly tuned in. Gojo sleeps on the couch. 

(He doesn’t make it a day without touching himself. The proximity is too much, too stimulating, and even with all of the restraint in the universe - it’s hard for him to stave it off.  What you don’t know can’t hurt you. Alone under the moon, he thinks of what you look like when you’re embarrassed and spills into his hand. 

Eventually, he’ll graduate to watching over you. You leave the door unlocked because you’re naive and Gojo stands with his cock in his fist, watching intently. You squirm in your sleep but you sleep deeply - because despite all the noise, you don’t stir one even once. He stops it from touching you, so close to your mouth, to your skin. ) 

On the second day of living together, the clothes Gojo bought you come to his door. You’re not home when it arrives, so he waits until you are home to open it with you. You come home a little later than usual (parent-teacher conferences, apparently). 

(“I have a surprise for you!” Gojo says, as finally comes back into the living room. You’ve returned from your shower, on  your last pair of PJ’s. You blink at him softly, tilting your head to one side as he hands you a package. 

“For me?” You ask. Gojo nods, grinning. 

“For you,” He confirms. He walks with you as you set the box onto the coffee table. You stare at it for a minute, glancing up at Gojo. Your eyes search for your keys. Once you find them, you take the sharpest key and rip through the tape on the top of its sides. An unceremonious krrk sounds through the room, echoing in the dimly lit living room. 

The clothes are wrapped in white, plastic packaging. You pick them individually, examining them closely. You look at Gojo again, more uncertain than before.

But Gojo shakes his head, nudging you towards opening the packages themselves. A promise to explain afterwards, silent in the air. You nod, confused, but do as he suggests. You rip the top open, dropping the thin plastic onto the table. More bags, this time clear. You repeat the action until the material flounces in your hands. You undo the careful folding for a minute, then stare at it. 

“...Clothes?” You repeat. 

“Surprise!” He says with his usual silly cadence “For you, free of charge.” 

A lot of things pass over your expression. Gojo watches each of them carefully, amused. He wonders what you’ll do. What you’re thinking, it’s a shame Gojo can’t read your mind.

“How’d you know my size?” You say first, inquisitive but not accusatory. Gojo shrugs. 

“Guessed. We’ve spent enough time together,” He says noncommittally. Your face changes, like you don’t quite believe him. But there’s not enough there for you to question him either. He can almost hear you narrate it in your head. The heart you wear on your sleeve, tender red and bleeding, thumps anxiously as you try to get a read on him. It’s not a sound he dislikes. 

He’s been good to you. He’s just being nice. You shake your head, regretful of your own doubt for a minute. You force a smile, and Gojo doesn’t hate it even though he knows where it comes from. 

The power of love, he thinks almost whimsically. 

“This is a big box. How much stuff did you even get?” You repeat, noticing the contents are up to the top. He feigns indifference. Pretends not to know that he spent countless hours looking over it. 

“Mm, dunno. Just whatever I thought you’d need.” 

“I’m only here for a week, Gojo.” You mutter, hands grazing over the cardboard edge.

“So? Maybe you need a lot of stuff. I don’t know what women go through.” He says with a pout, lips together. Joking with you to lighten the mood, which makes you huff through your nose. 

“You’re so dumb. It’s too much stuff,”

“I already bought it and I don’t feel like returning it,” He tells you, making it clear he’s not going to negotiate “Just think of it as a gift from Santa Claus.”

You snort. 

“You even have the hair,” You reply. Trying to make yourself feel better in the process, Gojo gives you a half smile “Still. I feel like I’m really indebted to you, lately.” 

“Yeah? You can count this week as one big favor, if that makes it easier.” 

“I don’t remember Santa doing favors for people,” You quip. Gojo laughs. 

“Change in management,” 

You laugh a real laugh at that, and Gojo watches you turn the situation over again and again. 

“Well. Thank you. Might as well look through the rest of it, huh?” 

“Take your time,” Gojo says, before checking the digital clock on his wall “I need to go get something from the store. Just leave the empty stuff next to the trash and I’ll take it out tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh, okay. Yeah. I’ll start on dinner. See you, Gojo.” 

“Yeah. See you” ) 

If you notice all the clothes come in shades of blue, you’re smart enough not to say anything. 

The third day passes in a blur. Nothing notable, but he’s content. You wear the clothes Gojo bought you and he’s careful not to stare while you know. He takes it upon himself only to do it when he knows you’re asleep, his nightly routine staring over the bare inches of your body in a dark room being a reprieve of his other desires. 

On the fourth day, he doesn’t have the restraint not to touch you. Too many days in the same room and he wants access to everything already. He hates being patient more than he thought, but there’s a method to this - he has to remind himself. 

Like taking out his aggression, he decides he needs more relief. Something to scratch the itch. With his infinity, you can’t feel his fingers ghosting over your legs. He checks if you’re wearing the other stuff he bought, settled at the bottom of the box. Not lingerie, but panties. Plain and cottony - white over your cunt as you sleep with your leg hiked up. Gojo knows you can’t feel him now, but part of him wants you too. He wants to know why you’re wearing them despite yourself. Gojo realizes too late that he’s interested in your misery just as much as he is everything else, and so far - that discovery has made everything all the more difficult. 

On the fifth day, things proceed the same. There’s a routine you’ve settled into together despite the time limit on it. That night over dinner, you and Gojo spend time together. There’s not really much to do - it’s a Friday. It’s the first time neither of you are completely occupied with any one task. 

You get to talking like that. On the fifth day, Gojo gets as close to opening up as he’s ever gotten in his life. Part of him isn’t sure why he does it. He thinks he’s seeking confirmation for something, but what that could be is lost on him. 

(“So, you’re the only person left in your clan?” You ask, half-way through a glass of tea he’s sure has gone cold by now. The T.V. is on but muted. Gojo looks at you in the low lights, fighting his own sleep.

“Mhm. Technically, I’m the sole heir.” He replies.

“...Is it okay to ask what happened?” 

Gojo laughs at you. You really can’t help your curiosity, but he still finds it amusing.

“It’s not a pretty story,” Gojo says honestly. 

“That’s okay,” You say, voice filled with an air of innocence that Gojo has a hard time wrapping his head around. 

“Most of them were wiped out. We had a lot of enemies, me included. A lot of them are dead, the remaining are somewhere far-away and have no combat abilities.” 

“You included?” You pick up on, naturally. Gojo nods and smiles a little. 

“Once I inherited my technique it was pretty commonplace. I went through a lot of assassination attempts,” He yawns in between, because this is an old, boring story “It took a lot of time for me to get strong enough to where I am now. But I got there eventually.” 

“You say that so easily,” 

Gojo peers at the frown on your face and laughs quietly to himself. 

“It was a long time ago, now. I never really had a lot to mourn, except for when I was a teenager. I’m used to it.” 

For a long time, you remain completely silent. Gojo almost thinks you’re going to cry. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. It’s proof of something. Of his ambivalence towards the idea of sympathy. Sure, it’s meaningless now for someone to feel bad for him. It’s a pointless endeavor, because Gojo is a selfish dick and the strongest - and he knows both of those things intimately. He accepts them as part of himself in the same way, he doesn’t know what he’s like without being frivolous. Without being the strongest. The line between misery and character is paper thin and Gojo hasn’t known it since he was born. 

It’s especially pointless for you to feel bad for him, because he’s going to ruin that very innocence you hold in your heart before the week is over. He’s going to do it with purpose and conviction. He won’t feel remorseful about it at all. 

There’s an irony to it. A dramatic irony that brings him closer to Godliness than he’s ever really been. Because Gojo knows that this conversation is confirmation that he needs you, just as much as he knows he’ll do anything to have you even if it means you can no longer look at him like this. 

He wonders how long you’ll hold sympathy for him. He decides for now, there’s no reason to not lean into it. It makes him happy that you care enough to feel sad. Even if it’s pointless. He doesn’t remember the last time someone did. 

Maybe when he was 17.

“You look like you’re gonna cry.” He says lightheartedly. Sincere in a way he hasn’t been in very well over 10 years. You sniffle. 

“How are you not crying?” 

“I never cry.” Gojo says smoothly, not blinking “I’m a heartless bastard.” 

“That’s not true.” You say, almost exclaim, turning yourself to look at him so seriously. It’s cute, he must admit, that you’re so sure on his character “You’re not heartless,” 

“But I am a bastard,” He clarifies, mischievous. And you pout, less eager to correct him on that 

“...You’re not heartless. Clearly.” You say again. Gojo laughs, a real laugh. He can feel it preemptively, how much he’ll cherish every minute of this conversation. He hums. 

“Oho, you almost sound like you’re defending me.” 

“From yourself, I guess. I know you’re not heartless,” You say, with some kind of clarity that you have him figured out. Maybe you do. It’s a little shocking. It’s not usually how this goes “You’re…weird. But you care” 

“That’s true,” Because it is, and Gojo has no reason to lie to you right now. “More than that, I’m hung up on the idea of the future.” 

“Isn’t it usually being hung-up on the past?” 

“Right? Usually, that’d be the case,” Gojo says, unsure of what to express “But the past is the past. I can’t go back to it. My technique is infinity. It means I can see infinite realities.” 

You sound like the winds been knocked out of you “That’s terrifying,” 

“It is. But you know, even in those realities, the past is the past. There are places where the past hasn’t happened. But it can’t be changed. It becomes part of infinity, when events occur. The only thing that can be changed is the future,” Gojo explains, though he leaves out so many intricacies “There’s a future I want to see. I’d like if my students could see it too,” 

“Because of your friend, right?” 

Gojo smiles. 

“Because of my friend. And for less selfless reasons.” 

“Like?” You ask, curious. 

“I like being able to do whatever I want, without consequences. Being strong lets me do that. For now it’s up to me, but eventually, I can raise strong comrades.” 

You’re silent for a while, again. 

“Seems lonely,” You say, simply. Easily. It’s true, and he knows that. It’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you’ve said it with little regard for anything. Almost mindlessly, a natural response to such a sad story. 

Gojo feels it again. Those stifling, pesky emotions that linger in the cavity of his ribs. He can’t bring himself to be honest, because when does he ever? But he does smile again, a little more melancholy than usual. You notice, certainly, but you have the courtesy not to say a word. 

“You think so?” Gojo says, passive and wilfully ignorant “Does it make you wanna hug and console me?”

He offers it sarcastically, but you don’t tear your eyes away from him. It’s almost enough to shake him. Almost. 

“...A little? You feel like a sad dog in the rain.” You say, too honestly.

“Jeez. Maybe you just miss Pokupan. Thinking about another man right in front of me. I can’t believe I’m the other woman,” He says, with a faux pout. 

You laugh, though it’s laced with sympathy. Gojo can tell you want to fuss. That you want to admonish him for being the way he is, and he’s almost willing to let you. That’s just the thing.

 You see Gojo as human, still. 

Gojo Satoru isn’t God. But he isn’t human either. If you want to know how God lives, asking Gojo is always viable. But you shouldn’t mistake false omnipotence for forgiveness, like you are now. You see Gojo for all of his humanity, but you're blind to his divinely violent tendencies. You will be until it’s too late. 

So, Gojo doesn’t think you need to comfort him how you’re thinking you should. Gojo wants you to depend on him. Because coveting you is an affair distinctly inhuman and crueler than even the heavens could be and he believes that you’re owed to him. 

 Gojo wants to protect this version of you, even at the sake of corrupting it. He doesn’t want to let you go ever, for any reason. And he wont. 

He turns the heat up gently. You’re none-the-wiser. The night swallows you both, but Gojo will remain untouched. He’ll hold you when it inevitably spits you back out. When reality washes into you, you should’ve trusted your gut after all. 

For now, he smiles at you. 

“If it’s any consolation, I’d be very sad if you disappeared.” Which Gojo hopes you can interpret without his interference. It seems like you do, because you smile to yourself. 

“Me too,” You reply. Gojo knows he’s going to ruin you. “I’d be really sad if you disappeared, Gojo. So, don’t, okay?” 

And if Gojo were an honest person, or a good one - he’d tell you you’re the last person who should worry about missing him. That you’ll be seeing him for a long time. 

But he’s neither, just like he’s not god or man. He lightens his tone and holds out his pinky, which you link with his. 

“Scouts honor,”

When he’s ready to look away, you pull a bare thread from Gojo’s clothes. Frowning at him, as you dust away the fabric with your hand. He stares at you. 

“What was that?” 

“You had a thread loose,” You say simply, unconcerned with anything “I just pulled it off.” 

Gojo stares. 

“Yeah. Thanks.”) 

The sixth day passes quickly. Gojo doesn’t think there’s anything worthy of saying. By then the routine is so practiced and so constant. The sixth day passes like a shadow in the night, disappearing through the woods before morning comes. A stepping stone. 

Today is the 7th day. 

On the 7th day, things are different. The same but different as they so often are. You don’t have work today, so you do what you’ve been doing. You and Gojo work in proximity to each other, share meals, and idly watch T.V.  

Night falls on the 7th day.

Gojo wants to take part in the act of creation, as the sun dips below the horizon. He’d set this in motion when the week started and now that it’s here - the anticipation is too much to bear. When Gojo Satoru sets himself out to be conqueror, the universe trembles at the sight of him. There’s no sound at all. The night reeks of death, in Gojo’s presence it trembles. Too fearsome to speak. 

Night falls today. Gojo starts his usual routine with less caution than he’s had the previous six. Where he usually bides his time and enters the room carefully - today he merely enters. He places his hand on the silver handle and pushes it open. A breath rushes from his lungs, adrenaline entering his system as he steps inside. His room has felt so unfamiliar to him lately, but like this - a sense of serenity washes over him. 

He stares at you. With his Six Eyes, with vision clear as ever, Gojo looks onto you as you are now. You can never reconstruct a flower crushed under steel boots. You’re not mud or earth, not adaptable like the sea. From the moment he’s met you - Gojo has known you to be so much like a flower. Gojo has never wanted to take the petals off of something so much in his life. 

And Gojo is in this instance, a natural disaster ready to pluck the root of you up from the ground. He’ll pick you up in a storm but return you to his feet. There’s a method to this. Gojo stares at your silhouette wrapped and tangled in his sheets, body so loosely dressed. Your visible figure rests easy. 

The night is glorious and silent. Gojo watches on in some cross of indifference and utter starvation. He blinks, leans on the wall. 

Like a call from fate, you start to stir awake.

Gojo moves towards you. He decides it might be easier just to join you in bed,  so he gently works himself into the sheets.. He creeps towards you slowly, and re-familiarizes himself with the feeling of his bed. It’d be lost on him for a week, but your presence in it makes it feel especially brand new. The bed dips under his weight, creaking. You shift lethargically, turning your head to look at Gojo. 

You look startled once you realize. For the first time in your entire relationship, it seems to dawn on you that something is wrong. Just a minute too late. He gives you a second to wake up. Your breath hitches, a stifled gasp as you greet Gojo’s expression. 

The hunger in his stomach is gnawing. Gojo feels like he’s starving. He thinks doing this will only half-way relieve the urge. This part of Gojo is inhuman as the rest of him. 

Gojo’s presence suffocates you so much in the moment, you can only barely open your lips to say your next words. 

“What are you doing here?” You sound still innocent. Gojo smiles briefly, under the glow of the moon. He can see your expression clearly. Sleep in your vision. A sheerness to your skin that comes with rest. Your bags are packed, and your things are cleared from his bathroom. You’re still wearing the clothes he bought. 

He knows he shouldn’t think it, but some part of him is vindicated. You’re leaving him today and Gojo finds abandonment to be the highest betrayal of them all. So, he’s vindicated. He licks his teeth, usual mirth coming back to him. 

Then he talks, his voice tender. 

“Getting my debts repaid,” And he means it, more than he’s ever meant anything he’s said “You owe me one, remember?” 

It dawns on you. Realization flickers in your eyes before it twists into fear. Gojo wants to encourage it. A curse starts to form, like tendrils around you. You’ll leave it here when you’re gone in the morning and Gojo will have a piece of you left with him. 

“W-what are you…? What do you mean?” 

He’s shrill, almost, leaning close to you. His sudden proximity makes you freeze. You know better, know so clearly it stops you from running. Gojo is tempted to see if you’ll do it. If you’ll run or if you’ll thrash or if you’ll fight. He’s not particularly sadistic, but he likes you - and he’s curious to know what your reaction will be to something like this. 

He eases you into it, He brushes his knuckles over your cheek as your heart sky-rockets like you’re being hunted. Gojo thinks he ought to be gentle with you. Regardless of how this is happening, it’s your first time together. Your fingers tremble as you reach up to grab his wrist. It seems like you’re trying hard to pull him off, and wiggle away from his grip. You ready yourself to give him push back and Gojo times it so that it seems like you’ll be able to break free. 

But Gojo is strong. Stronger than you by a lot, and you know that by now. When he finds that you’re trying to escape him, he’s quick to grab your wrists with his hands. They both fit perfectly in his palms. He pulls them up over your head and your eyes widen as you feel his grip - near bruising (though he is trying so hard to be gentle) on your body. He stares down at you. 

You look so frightened.

“Wh-what are you..?” 

“You owe me one for letting you stay here, right?” He asks enthusiastically, licking his teeth. Your eyes widen “I’ll take this as compensation, okay? It’s a good deal for us both I think,” 

“I don’t,” You squirm underneath him “I don’t—I,” 

“Shh,” He quiets you, humming softly “Don’t overcomplicate it. Just wanna see you,”

Gojo watches you turn it over in your head. He was wondering about this. What’d you do in these circumstances. If you’d act like you always do, pleasant and pliable trying to do what's best. Damage control for what's coming. 

Gojo pulls his hands away to undress you and yours fly to his shoulder blades. You heave as you push, mumbling something about how he doesn’t need to do this. Your expression is grief-stricken. Gojo soothes you. 

“You can bite, scratch, kick, scream - whatever works,” Gojo says, communicating his affection as best he can. He drives his hands under your shirt, laying his palm flat over the skin of your stomach. He runs his thumbs over your sides, committing every inch of you to memory. Without his infinity, Gojo feels every part of you “It’s not gonna hurt me,” 

You look like you’re at a loss for words. He gives you a warm grin. 

“Maybe we’re going about this all wrong,” Gojo says after some thought “Is this your first time?” 

You whimper, nodding meekly. Gojo  groans against your skin. You flinch. 

“Fuck, course it is. Shoulda known. Such a sheltered girl like you,” He adds the last part with a hint of condescension, watching your face curl up into a frown. 

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing you know,” Gojo is careful as he pulls your shirt higher and higher. Your breath is being held, afraid of what’ll happen if you let g.o “We’re tied together like this. Isn’t that nice?” 

“Gojo,” You say, swallowing something. Words that threaten to bubble up that you can’t find the strength to say. You’re not wearing anything underneath and Gojo feels a chill in his spine “Please,” 

“Not wearing a thing even though you’ve been sleeping at a man's house all week,” He reprimands. He lets the material sit over the swell of your chest, just under your neck where it stays. He can see the outline of your tits clearly now, just enough light from the open window to illuminate your skin. Your nipples are hard, heaving. Gojo can hear your little heartbeat thump against your ribs “I’m not telling you off you know? I’m glad you trust me. Great job, on that really. But you really should be more careful.” 

“Gojo,” You plead again, throaty. The sound goes through his system, sends blood rushing to his cock.  

“Satoru,” He insists on, knowing it will take more than that to convince him “I’ll try and listen to your requests if you say Satoru,” 

He doesn’t promise to stop, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to follow up on it. Still, with the level of desperation you show - Gojo thinks it’s worth it to gain something out of. You follow up his request almost instantly, lips wrapping around the syllables with a weak breath. 

“S-Satoru,” 

He gestures to take your shirt off. You’ve become more pliable, if only a little, letting Gojo see all of you completely bare as he tosses his clothes somewhere onto the floor. Shameless in viewing you, your instincts kick in to cover your chest. He clicks his teeth, pushing your wrists together again over your head. 

“That won’t do,” He coos at you softly “I wanna see you. All of you,” 

You hiccup, sobbing, Gojo reaches his palms towards your breasts, cupping them gently. Your nipples rub against his palms and he groans feeling how soft you are. 

“So pretty,” He admires you. Means it. Gojo lets his gaze catch on the edges and curves of you with enthusiasm. Your chest is sensitive to his touch, thumb and forefinger tweaking and teasing your nipples as you remain underneath him obediently. Your eyes look so watery, soft like lilies in freshwater “So cute,” 

“Satoru, please, I don’t—don’t want—” 

“So ungrateful,” He tsks. He smacks your chest lightly, enough to make you squeal “That’s the only request I can’t listen to,” 

You hiccup, looking away. Gojo hums as he hovers over you, seated over your figure. He pulls his mask off from his eyes, material falling into his fingers. Grabbing your wrists with his palms, he wraps the material around them - tight enough to keep you but with enough room so it doesn’t hurt. He places your hands over your head gently, kissing your covered wrists. 

“Don’t squirm too much, ‘kay? Stay like that. I’ll make you feel good.” 

“I don’t,” 

“Hey,” This time he’s stern, and you slink back into yourself. It’s the first time he’s had to use this tone on you and hopefully the last “What’d I say? You owe me this much, don’t you think? After everything I’ve done for you, the least you can do is not turn me away. It’s not like I wanna do anything bad with you, y’know” 

A pang of guilt passes through you. You stop squirming. Gojo keens, baring his teeth as he smiles. 

“Good girl.” He dips his head to kiss the place under your ear, where your neck meets your jaw. He scrapes his teeth on the skin so you can feel his teeth over your pulse “You learn quick.” 

You keep your arms over your head like he’s asked, hesitant and stiff. Gojo can work with that at least. He leans towards you, tipping your jaw so you’re forced to look at him. Tear-eyed and whimpering, a shudder passes through him. 

“So pretty,” He mumbles. He leans forward, presses his lips to yours - hand resting on the base of your neck. You make a noise of indignance but Gojo keeps you there. He eases you into obedience, forcing his tongue in your mouth, grazing the inside of your mouth. 

He swallows every sound you make. Distress and frustration and reluctance lend themselves to giving in  easily. Your body is sensitive to touch, a trail of goosebumps where his hands touch you. On your waist, trying to ease you into it. 

He pulls away from you, a string of saliva connecting you. 

“First kiss?” He asks. You shy away, clamping your mouth shut. Gojo chuckles, teeth nipping at you “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

You remain silent, so Gojo fills the space. 

“Mm,” Gojo presses kisses down the curve of your jaw, all the way down your neck where he stops and bites - hard enough for something to be there tomorrow. He undresses the rest of you. You try to resist this time too, but Gojo doesn’t bother putting up a show. It’s easy to overpower you. He tugs your shorts off with your panties and tosses them somewhere. Unceremonious and uncharacteristically impatient. 

He takes his time now that you’re all naked. It’s thrilling to watch distress fill your lungs, a ballooned breath and muffled protest. Gojo sucks hickies into your bare skin. It’s only fair to give you something to look at while you’re departed. Your blood rushes, capillaries breaking under the hardness of his incisors  - ridges pushed against your delicate skin. He licks the bruises afterwards, kisses them tenderly. 

“Gonna be a little sore for a while,” He says warmly. You’ve hit the stage of grief where you’re angry and resilient again but one look from Gojo is enough to make you slink back “Might as well enjoy yourself.” 

Despair flashes in your expression. 

“I mean it, you know.” He offers, stating it like he’s trying to appease you “You should relax a little, let it roll off your shoulders.” 

It seems like you register that Gojo is teasing you. He does mean it, about thinking you should enjoy it. Everything else is deliberate and you know as much. It’s good you’re starting to understand him a little better. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” You ask hoarsely. Gojo is surprised by your question. 

“Ah, it’s a secret, so you can’t tell,” He starts. He squeezes the fat of your chest in his palms, silver tongued and playful “I like things that I can keep.” 

A flash of true horror washes over you and you almost go ragged in realization. Weakened in your resolve once glimmering so brightly, Gojo takes the opportunity to please. He kisses down your sternum, runs his hands across the sides of your chest. He presses this thumb against your hardened nipples, rubbing lightly. Gojo takes them into his mouth. He bites then licks like he licks a wound

It pleases him immensely when you respond. When you gasp in a helpless sort of way and go to cover your mouth in shame. A sense of delight washes over his body and he does it again and again. He teases, changes from sucking harshly to lapping oh-so gently on the skin. Over and over until your voice can longer be contained no matter how hard you try - sharp gasps and cries of desire filling the air. 

When he thinks you’re worked up enough, he slots himself against you and nudges your legs apart. He can feel the heat from your bare skin against his body, clothed. How you tremble underneath him. He eases his hand down gently, fingers trailing down to your pussy. 

You hiccup. A sob of defiance stifled with obvious arousal, forced from you so easily. Gojo laughs. 

“You don’t wanna?” He pricks, intentionally. Gojo lets his middle finger ease along your slit, dragging his digits up and through - catching on your achy clit “Are you sure?” 

It’s torture for you. Of course it is. A pretty, sheltered little thing. It’s your first time with something like this and he’s sure all this is too much for you. Even if you tell yourself you don’t want it, your body can’t refuse him. You can’t either, try as you might. That’s why your legs are spread and why you’re practically dripping for him. Gojo thinks of it as admission. Your clit is hard underneath the pad of his middle finger, as he rubs too light and too gently. 

You cry out, pitchy and broken. Gojo laughs. 

“You need it here,” He punctuates, adding enough pressure that you gasp “Need me to touch you here, hm?” 

You shake your head at first. Gojo tucks himself against your chest, sucking the skin gently. 

“Be more honest.” He encourages a mockery as he so barely presses his finger inside of you - threatening to touch but never doing it “What do you want?” 

“Don’t, I don’t.” You say, or you try. 

“Liar,” He snips playfully against your clavicle “Your pretty little pussy is dripping wet and you want me to believe that?” 

Gojo smacks your cunt softly. Once, then twice, then three times for good measure as you cry. 

“C’mon,” He encourages meanly “Tell me what you really want.”

It’s a sick little mind game that Gojo is having too much fun playing with you. 

“P-please,” You stutter, so unbelievably broken with so little done to you at all. Gojo will take all of you at a later time. When you’re thoroughly pliable and broken and so beautiful all for him “Please.” 

So dependent like Gojo always thinks you should be. 

“Please what, hm? What are you asking for?” 

You swallow thickly. All your dread and doubt and disbelief gone as a sense of real and true need ignites within you. Of course this is too much for you. Gojo overwhelmed you like this on purpose. The resentment of wanting despite it all, despite how miserable you are makes for something so tragically Gojo’s. Whatever you have in your heart will always be for him. Good or bad, ugly or beautiful - like this you are all his and so perfectly too. It’s titillating, the sensation of control that wisps around him. It strikes him like a hammer on hot iron.

Gojo wants you to say it. Wants your selfless  little heart to beg for his mercy this once. You’ll understand some time later, that this is how Gojo loves. Selfish and twisted. Cruel. Intimate beyond mortal comprehension. All of him just for you, just like this. 

Strangely, it's perfect. Gojo teases you some more. Toys with your clit and feels a pool of arousal rush and drip from your sore cunt. He hits it with the palm of his hands as you try to form the words. You tremble in his arms, a vestige of your will to resist. 

You want to resist so badly, he can tell. But it hurts now to leave it alone and you want it despite yourself. It makes you so frustrated you cry. Limp, crystal tears down your face that Gojo licks up nearly immediately. Salty and bitter. Gojo kisses the apples of your cheek, nose nudging your skin. 

“So cute when you give up.” Gojo praises sincerely. You sob somewhere deep inside of your “Be good and be honest. I’ll reward you, hm? How’s that?” 

Gojo can feel the moment you give in completely. When acceptance settles over your hazy and contorted mind. You let the tides take you, curling into yourself.  A sound like you’re in pain even though you’re not hurt. 

“Please touch me.” You whisper, hoarse and defeated. Gojo laughs airy, peppering your face with kisses. You wince. 

“Good girl.” He coos, dipping his fingers down lower and lower. Heel of his palms pressed into your swollen, needy clit “That’s all you had to do. Easy, right?” 

You scowl at him (you try too).

“Open your legs, baby,” 

You listen this time, opening your legs wide enough for him to touch. Your pussy is so wet for him. Sticky and soft like you’ll fall apart, Gojo thinks it feels divine, wants to squeeze and grope and touch until you’re disintegrated. He likes feeling you like this. Vocal chords strung tight, all the noises throaty and gone. You throb against him like you’re begging. Gojo doesn’t stand to let you acclimate, flipping between three fingers in a gentle rub to a soft and well-practiced spank. 

Only when your words start to come out t0gether, like you’re spitting them out because they fill your mouth  too quick - does Gojo bless you with any mercy. He lets his hands sink lower, deeper - until his middle finger brushes your twitching hole. Your breath hitches, and the hands once stuck to your side, reach for Gojo’s hard to hold. 

He licks his teeth, some unspoken feeling sending an bullet through him as he feels your body resist. Needy thing you are and so untouched that even the point of your middle finger makes your breath slower. You’re wet enough he doesn’t need anything else to aid him. He pushes in slow, slow, slow - painstakingly carefully as your wetness envelops you. 

Because he intends to cherish you in his own way, he resists the urge he feels to flip you right over and take you. He’s being kind, and you’ll realize it later - when you’ve adjusted to him a bit more and know when to pick your fights. If he didn’t think it’d ruin the set-up, he’d have flipped you on your back just feeling. Fucked you without any consideration, just to feel your pussy around him in a vice grip. 

It’s all he can picture, but he shows restraint. He’ll fuck himself off on you when you’re sleeping maybe, just to scratch the urge. You might pass out before then. 

He comes back to you like that, a promise to himself to give the relief he needs with the body he finds oh-so tempting. He pushes his perversion aside to touch you. You let out a little sound every time he fucks himself deeper, gets his middle finger down to the first bend the all the way to the knuckle. 

When he thinks you’re adjusted - ready for more, he gives it to you without making you plead. He uses his ring finger this time - his longest ones and feels you stretch around. He groans, deep and appreciative, as he feels how tight you are. You preen, squeeze your thighs together and call his name 

“Oh, Satoru, its.” 

He shushes you before busying himself with tasting your skin. Closes his mouth around one of your tits as he repeats the process. In, in, in until he’s all the way to his knuckles. Fucks you till it’s easy, till you’re wanting more. 

If he were more merciful, a good man or a better one - he’d stop here. He doesn’t though. A third finger has your eyes widening. You gasp. Gojo kisses your face again and again. 

“Easy, easy,” He coos, voice coarse but encouraging “It’s a good exercise for the future.” 

You don’t register the words and Gojo doesn’t expect you to. Even still, he thinks giving you the heads up is quite nice. 

Three fingers proves to be more than enough. It pushes you to an edge he has seen before. He fucks you with three. Your mouth falls open, slack jawed. Gojo curls his fingers. He rubs up like he’s motioning for you to come here, deep enough until he feels it. That spongy spot inside of you, apparent through the sounds you start to make as he touches it. 

He hits something of a stride like that, finger fucking you with pressure on your clit and his mouth on your skin. Gojo takes to watching you once he knows he’s getting you to that edge. Your body stiffens underneath him, breathing going noticeably shallow. Mouth wobbly, lower lip trembling. He can tell you’re feeling it, just as much as you’re resisting it. Gojo coaxes you by whispering against your skin. 

“C’mon,” He hums, nudging his nose to your neck “You wanna cum don’t you? I can tell you. You too scared? Need me to help you.” 

You whimper “Aah, aah,” Gojo can feel you pulse. Can feel your insides tighten. He’s doing it on purpose, tipping you just over the edge. He wants to hear you beg. Wants to know what it sounds like when you beg for him. He fucks into you slowly, until you’re no longer able to put on a show of being composed. 

“S-sato—oh, please, oh—please m-make me,” 

“Want me to making you cum? Say it. Say, ‘Satoru, please make me cum,’ can you do that?” 

A bitter sob leaves your lips and Gojo can’t think straight. It strains you. 

“S-satoru, pleasemakemecum—please.” 

Gojo grins. “Of course I can,” He quickens his pace enough to make you feel it. Your eyes shoot open before screwing closed again “All you had to do was ask me.” 

He watches you intently. How you fall apart under his fingers, delirious whimpers of no, no, no - even though you begged so sweetly a minute ago. He hums as he feels the walls of your pussy start to tremble, a soft squelching sound hastened now. You say something he can’t decipher, words too jumbled for him to make sense. Gojo stares hard. Lets the infinity bleed away so he can feel you just like this, feel you cum on his fingers despite everything. 

He feels giddy to the point he’s sick with it, moaning as your hands grip at the roots of his hair. He kisses your breast tenderly, just over the latest lovemark. 

“Don’t hate me too much, kay,” Gojo says, whispering, means it so you carry it with you because he can feel the resentment nudged so deep into your heart by now “Come on. Cum for me, sweet girl. Want you to feel so good.” 

And so you do. You cry, scream - but the noise amounts to nothing. A cosmic thing, like you’ve been struck by a comet. Gojo fingers you through it, absolutely delighted at the hot rush of liquid that comes pouring out of you. Your first orgasm from him and you’re squirting all over his fucking wrists, soaking his sheets and his arms and his PJ’s with your back curved in a beautiful arch. You break apart in an almost violent way, like the pleasure’s vicious. It tears into you and you succumb with a whimper. 

Gojo shushes you as you break down finally into a teeny, tiny sob. You must be exhausted because you don’t pull away when he comforts you, despite the little angry why, why, why that you whisper. You hit his chest softly. He kisses your forehead and listens as your breathing goes still and you fall asleep in a heart-beart, still curled up into his bed and too tired to run away or go anywhere. 

He stays with you like that, relishing in the warmth of your body until you’re deep asleep. He flips you onto the side of the bed that isn’t wet, and presses a kiss to your forehead before moving out of the sheets. . 

When he stands to his feet, it’s to collect the curse that’s gathered itself on the foot of the bed. It manifests as a white snake with blue-eyes. Gojo finds himself amused. Of course the curse you’ve made is pretty. Gojo grabs it by the neck, watching it as it pries its mouth open and bares his fangs at him. He grins, pricking himself on the teeth to see if it makes him bleed. 

It hisses loudly before wrapping itself around Gojo’s arm. It doesn’t take any effort to subjugate it, sensing his power it stills with some effort. Gojo tilts his head as he walks out of the room, glancing at you before turning his head back at the snake. 

“Better warm up to me,” He whispers in the dark, a contentment to his words “You won’t be seeing your mama for a while,” 

—

Communication stills. 

Radio silence, more like - a busy bunch of messages deftly still. Suddenly, a raging storm of grief and anger disappears. The morning after Gojo assaults you, he wakes up to see you off like nothings happened. 

He mostly does this because he wants to see what you’ll do.

You spend the morning perplexed and confused. You eat breakfast with him. You sit at the table, contemplative and silent and Gojo chats away at you idly. About the news and the weather and the classes he has today. You chew your food but don’t taste. You listen but your replies are short and stilted - out of touch. 

Gojo learns that when something bad happens to you, you respond to it by detaching yourself. Though yesterday you were hot and fiery, the day after you seem to be mourning. Your grieving process starts early, and Gojo thinks rather amused—that you remind him a lot of himself.

He thinks you’re a little closer now that you understand the apathy of losing something that can never come back. And once this whole thing is over, once you find yourself back here - he’ll tell you all about it. You get it now right? It’s painful to feel like you can never be the same. 

They say that mankind was fashioned from their Lord. Gojo supposes he’s made you in his image. You look a little empty, and though you’re both so different - you can become close by having the same wound. You can understand him a little more this way, all while retaining your sense of resilience.

What is mankind not known for if not perseverance? Of course he knows, once you recover from your grief, you’ll return to your usual spitfire. He’s counting on it, counting on you to fight and run. Escape from him and never come back. 

But that cat and mouse game is more than okay. Gojo isn’t looking for your obedience, really. You’re too defiant of a character. Gojo thinks it’d be pointless if you’d just stayed the same.

You need to have hope to stay the way you are. Thus, Gojo doesn’t plan to rob you of it. He figures it’s best to give you breathing room. After all, he has full confidence in his ability to find you. He could hear the rhythm of your heart a continent away and chase it down without thinking twice. But it’s better if you’re able to show him some resistance. He thinks of it like a compromise. That sort of thing is typical for married folks, he thinks. He gives and you take. 

Eventually, you might realize that the endeavor of running away is fruitless. Maybe you’ll be clever enough to recognize that it’s not that you’re succeeding, but that Gojo is letting you. You’re definitely smart enough to do so early, but just stubborn enough to believe that there’s hope in spite of that. If you try hard enough, persevere a little more, etc. 

Gojo likes this part of you. Always will. You always put your best in everything and this is his own way of nurturing it. 

It’d be a shame to take that from you. Gojo has remained out of your sight for the time being to try and reinstate it. While he raises the curse up in his apartment, he watches you through windows and flitters into your bedroom to peer at you before disappearing again. He makes sure that you can’t sense him or that he’s gone before you can. The more ease you feel, the easier everything else will go. 

Feeding the curse you’ve left behind in his house has been taking most of its time. It’s obedient to him since he’s strong, and it’s big now. Longer and wider and more sinister looking (he feels a weird affection for it, maybe just because it’s from you), more hostile. He’s been careful to maintain it. Too much feeding will make it overgrown. 

It’s currently on Gojo’s floor, on a dog bed like a disobedient pet - all in a single coil. He has to be careful not to endanger you by making it too strong or giving it too much range. It’s just meant to be a showpiece - a prop at best and a scraped knee at worst.

He’s been building it up for a long time. Then, though, it wasn’t such a clear desire. He figured sewing seeds of fear in you would benefit you in a different way. But that’s fine. The means don’t matter as much as the ends and in doing so - he’s made this all sort of seamless. 

It’s not a complicated plan, ultimately. He’ll tell the curse to let loose, freak you out a little, and eventually - you’ll call the only person you know who knows how to handle it. Gojo will save you, and when you’re finally caught in his arms, you’ll have a little reunion amongst yourselves. He’ll reprimand you (but only lightly) and you’ll thrash (but only for a little while) and then he’ll keep you by his side again. 

Except this time he won’t be so quick to let go. He’s sure you’ll protest (and be all gung-ho about it). He’ll feign cruelty and push you to the edge. Whatever response you do have, he’s thought of a way to reply. 

A way to tend to it. 

Like any relationship, things take time. He’s not expecting this to settle right away - but he’s confident eventually it’ll work out how he wants too. Gojo can make that happen as long as you’re within view. 

He watches you through the window as you come in from your classes. You’re dressed up today despite the chilly weather - a blouse and nice pants with bangles on your wrist. He wonders what the occasion is given the time of year. Your bag is hanging loosely off of your shoulder - having only just returned. 

A sense of warmth spreads through him as he peers at you, a smile on his face. He really does like looking at you quite a bit. 

The curse hisses at the sense of your presence and Gojo waves a hand at it to keep it quiet. 

“Calm down or I’ll exercise you right away,” Gojo says coldly. It retracts itself. “I’m getting impatient, too, you know? It’s been a long time.” He says wistfully. 

He keeps looking until you’ve effectively disappeared from his sight. He listens for you outside of his door. The sound of the building buzzer, soft footsteps, and the slight jiggle and turn of keys before you’ve gone in - sound by a dull thump. 

He leans against the wall near his door where he was listening, eyes up at the ceiling as he turns over his options. He should wait it out a little longer. Giving everything enough room to mellow out before it picks up again is an important part of the process. 

But he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait. Plus, keeping this curse around is starting to be troublesome. He’d much prefer you back in his arms, in his bed - all back to that kind domestic fantasy that he’d been thinking about again for weeks. 

He supposes there’s no right decision, in this case. Just what he wants to do, versus what he should do, and some kind of middle ground he’s been spending too long looking for. 

He stands to his feet, no longer leaning on the wall before glancing at the curse from the corner of his eyes. 

“Today seems like it’s too soon yet too far,” Gojo pauses between sentences, scratching his head woefully “But it should be okay, right?” 

__ 

At 7pm, the curse slips underneath the door of his apartment into the hallway. Gojo sits comfortably in his living room, one leg crossed over the other with his phone in hand, a warm mug of tea cooling on his coffee table. 

The news is playing. A general and loose sense of anticipation fills him as he pays attention to the newscaster. Another storm is going to hit and the temperatures are dropping to an impossible low. Officials recommend buying bottled water and keeping warm as it continues to blow out. 

There’s a soft hiss as the muscled curse squeezes itself underneath the tight crack of his door. It’s unfortunate he can’t monitor it directly. Though the instructions ( and subsequently the consequences of disobedience) were made clear - curses are greedy as they are stupid. This one in particular seems to be self-aware enough not to try to go against Gojo’s word. 

So, when the time comes he sits patiently and waits. Watches the news. His ears itch and his skin pricks as he listens for the first whisper of your voice. He wonders if you’ll scream. You didn’t when he thought you should’ve but maybe there's a reason for you to do so now. 

The clock ticks away. It’s unceremonious. Gojo thinks to himself that maybe this entire thing is esoteric. Capturing you is a tragedy that he writes to himself and he’ll re-tell it to you all the time in different ways. 

The clock ticks. Again and again, the monotony is starting to settle in. Time moves slower than you could imagine. Like trying to pipe honey into straw, thick and impossible. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

At 7:02, a dog barks outside. It sounds cagey, and it’s not Pokupan because Gojo knows what that mutt sounds like. Nor is it cosmic. It does sound desperate, though - like asking someone to be let in. And if Gojo didn’t have such a pressing matter to attend to, he’d go outside and do it himself. After all the wind is frosty and the air is unforgiving and winter devours things so slowly it's painful. 

Gojo can’t abandon his task. It’s too important for him to stick his neck out for a being he doesn’t even know. He hopes briefly that it survives. That someone lets it in before it gets anymore violent (or desperate or willing) 

At 7:03, he reaches for the tea on his coffee table to drink it. It’s still piping hot, but Gojo can swallow it with his infinity. He does for a reason he can’t name. It’s just a compulsion, inspired by the fact it will probably be too cold when he comes back for it. He thinks, instinctively, that he should cherish the warmth in the glass despite the barrier that prevents him from feeling it. Ultimately it’s still milk tea. It will still fill his stomach and taste vaguely sweet where he permits. He ought to drink it when it’s warm even if it’s just an illusion. 

The clock ticks again, this time to 7:04 and Gojo regains a sense of bravado that’s riveting. There’s a commercial airing now for a new type of kitchen gadget, an airfryer with more settings than any one person knows what to do with. The advertiser is enthusiastic and loud. He wonders what happens when it switches to the next one. Do actors on set feel awkward when the cameras turn off? He knows a thing or two about performing, which is why he finds himself so curious. 

At 7:05, the first whisper of your pleading filters through the hallways. Though Gojo figures he’s not meant to be able to hear it - because however vague it is, the sense of shame that it holds is hard to ignore. Despite his urge to run to you, Gojo is reminded of the fact he is teaching you a lesson and this is all a show for you and in a way for him too. There’s timings and cues and calls, so Gojo lets your first prayer get passed through the winter winds. He’s sure it gets dropped off somewhere in the snow. 

The dog outside bares its teeth and barks louder than before. 

At 7:06, the feelings of fear and negativity start to weasel their way into his apartment. Through cracks in the floorboards and the aeration in the spackle - he can feel it come through his door and penetrate his being like waves of wind. With no barrier and no filter, your fear is a familiar presence in his life. It comes to a crescendo as he leans his head back on the couch and blinks up at the ceiling. He’s pleased with it so far. It’s proving to be just right. All the months of delicate orchestration have culminated into such a lovely overture. A symphony of sobs. It enchants him like a bird song, or maybe the whistle of a blizzard. 

He waits for it to die down. He waits for it to start back up again. He waits for the sniffling to become sobs and for the sobs to become demands and for the demands to go back to sniffles. He waits for the dog outside to be let in because he can hear the buzz of the gates all the way from his apartment. 

When Gojo has had enough of waiting, it’s 7:15 sharp. 

He stands to his feet and walks through his door with not so much as a look back. The T.V. is still playing where he fazes out and he leaves it because this will be quick and easy. 

You’re right across the hall. The walk is short. The building moans like it’s dead. 

He stands in front of your door and presses his ears to it and there’s some semblance of an altercation. Mostly the sounds of shattered glass. 

If you were any more familiar with this world, you’d know the thing is stalling. It has harmful intent but Gojo’s presence is too risky. If you knew anything about anything, then you’d know you were never in any real danger and even calling Gojo’s name when you hate it so much now would be pointless. 

But Gojo has done his due diligence in keeping you in the fateful dark. 

So this part is easy. He reaches for the door but it’s locked, so he teleports. 

When he enters, your apartment is in terrible shape. The curse itself notices his presence but does not stop to act. He stops to take a look around. He figures you’re cornered and holed up in your bedroom. A trembling figure in the corner praying for God to save you. 

Your house is effectively thrashed like there’s been a robbery. He’ll have to make up something in the report. Officials will come, but they won’t question his word. All the glass is broken and scattered and everything is torn up. Papers ripped and fabric shredded. 

(The stuff Gojo demanded not to be touched has remained that way. Even he’s not so much of a monster to ruin your students' keepsakes. He’s sure you’ll look relieved when he returns them to you later. How kind he is.) 

He prepares himself like an actor might for a role. He thinks of the lines he’s practiced and the way things will play out. This simple, choreographed tragedy. A manifestation of your fears. Gojo thinks that he is probably good at becoming the thing people love yet resent. 

He’s sure you and Suguru would have a lot to talk about in another life. 

He checks the time on your digital clock, left unscatched in all the destruction. 

At 7:18, Gojo phases himself into your bedroom like he’s only just arrived. He hears you gasp in a sharp fear that quickly breaks into a sob of relief. He glances at you where he stands. He’s never been in your room. Kind of a waste it’s happening like this. 

The first thing he does is check if the door is locked. When he finds that it is, he laughs to himself but covers his face before he turns to you. You are exactly how he predicts. Something curled tightly into your fists, fearful and backed into a corner. He coos internally. At what he's done to you. How this has played out. 

It wasn’t enough to break you a little. This part is necessary. 

Like he starts most interrogations off, he asks you question.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, Satoru.” Your voice sounds shattered in such a way he finds it almost hard to stomach “Oh, it’s—Oh it’s you.” 

“Happy to see me, huh?” He says, tilting his head. You close your eyes instead of replying. 

“H-how’d you…?” 

“I can feel cursed energy,” He says, and it’s not untrue “I felt something very strange in your apartment. It’s been a while.” 

You still can’t find it in yourself to say anything. Maybe desperate, maybe afraid, maybe exhausted by your own paranoia - you relent. 

“Yeah.” You say. Gojo can feel the curse grow impatient. It lets out a loud hiss and you gasp in fear.

“Hey, you didn’t answer. Are you okay?” 

You stare at Gojo for a long time. 

“I’m not hurt but,” You swallow thickly. Upon looking at you closely, you look exhausted. He feels a little sorry for you. He’ll let you rest for a while when you’re home “I’m s-scared.” 

“You’re right to be scared,” Gojo says, and he means it a little. Not about the curse, but in general “It’s a pretty powerful class. A special grade, probably. You share cursed energy.” 

You look agape as he relays this to you. 

“Share…?” 

Gojo gives you a look. He can feel the creature coming towards you door down, slinking across the wood slowly. A coy, soft smile appears on his expression as he reaches down for you. You flinch from his hands but Gojo doesn’t falter. He strokes his thumb across your cheeks, peering at your eyes and how they reflect light from the outside. 

“It was made with your cursed energy,” Gojo explains very gently to you. You look at him in disbelief “Curses are negative emotions. So something like this isn’t uncommon. No idea how it got so strong, though. But that’s all your.” 

He watches you closely as a wave of horror settles over you. A nauseous feeling that has you cupping your hand over your mouth like you’re ready to throw-up. He masks a smile, but he doesn’t condescend you. Not openly, at least. Not to the extent he would like too. He reprimands you like a teacher - a sensei and his beloved mentee. 

“I told you didn’t I,” Gojo says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as you quell your own disgust at the thought “You have to be careful. And you can’t fight all by yourself, so you’re kind of helpless. What were you gonna do if I wasn’t around?” 

You look like you’re going to cry. Gojo keeps going. 

“You can’t call the police, you know. They can’t help you at all. Good for nothing bunch, really.” Gojo states, gesturing vaguely. He tugs his masks off of his eyes so you can get a better look at him “But you can rely on me if you need to. I’ll always protect you. Next time just give me a call, okay?” 

It must dawn on you, just then, what exactly Gojo is doing. Or some extent of this is hitting you for the very first time. The look on your face is picture perfect. It’s exactly what he wanted. An understanding he’d be hoping for for so long it’s unbelievable. 

“I’m the only one who can keep you safe, understand?” But he’s not really asking. You know that too “Can you nod your head and agree?” He pricks. You don’t hold back your tears but you don’t cry them either. You break down  silently nd you nod. 

Gojo reaches down and wipes them off for you. 

“Don’t be so sad,” He says to you, and he means it because what a shame it would be to wallow too much on such a nice day. Winter is for warming up next to your loved ones, isn’t it? “I’ll protect you now.” 

Left with no choice, you nod again slowly and clutch your pillow. Gojo kisses the crown of your head and leaves you to untangle your feelings. 

Then, almost on cue, the curse itself bursts through the door. The wood breaks off with the hinges. 

It’s really a weak thing. If Gojo was trying to keep his powers contained, he might’ve put up more of a fight as it lunges at him in your bedroom. It knocks over your things left and right but he’s mostly busy trying to muffle the noises so he doesn’t disturb the neighbors.

 It’s as fast as a gust of wind as he strikes out, neck elongated and jaw as unhinged as far as it can go. This time, Gojo can feel the weight of its desire to kill. A rampant sense of bloodlust in it’s every action, Gojo dodges each attempt and swipe at him. He leaves a barrier over you temporarily so that it can do you no harm.

It doesn’t go for you either. He figures maybe it has some understanding of its own predicament. Desperate animals can be clever too. Perhaps those things have always been linked together. 

But he figures a fair-ish fight is as much as Gojo can do to stave the thing off before he sends it off officially. Plus, he can feel you watching his back - like you’re trying to measure how strong he is. It’s a smart thing to do. You’re learning. It’s probably better to show you now, since there’s not much left to hide. 

So this time, when the snake comes flying towards him - Gojo reaches his hands out. He uses his infinity to stop it in its place. A noise of anger leaves its mouth, a low hiss as it hits the wall in front of him. Wide blue eyes stare at Gojo, a predator with its fangs bared. 

Gojo stares back, a predator with its fangs bared.

He uses a reversal of his Limitless, the infinite blue. The creature is pulled into him closely, crashing first into the space he’s created before disappearing into nothing but smoke and ash. It’s gone just as quickly as it happened. A curse so inferior, it can’t have been more than ten minutes to fight even with all the purposeful delays Gojo set in place to finish it off. 

It’s gone now, the product of you and him. A weird part of him is sad. But now he has you, so he cuts his losses. Now there is only you and Gojo, and a ruined bedroom and broken apartment. 

Gojo, who has no intention of enlightening you, turns his back to look at you. 

“Don’t know how long it’ll be gone but,” He shrugs, rolling his shoulder and cracking his spine “But it’s gone for now. Some officials will be here in the morning but with the way this place is, you might wanna come back to stay with me for a while.” 

This is all a formality. He’s sure you know too, but instead of turning away - you’re shivering figure wavers in the dark. You’re terrified enough to reach for his hand and hold it. You know what’s coming, but that knowing does nothing to save you. You were a victim to fate from the moment you met. Yet, you still look to him for comfort in safety because even knowing better, there isn’t anything you can do. 

And it’s just like you, to want to trust and forgive him. To reach your hand out hesitantly and try. Everything is tangled up and you are terrified and Gojo Satoru loves you. 

“Come on,” He says, encouraging you to get closer. He reaches over your bed to scoop you into his arms and you don’t do so much as protest “Let’s go home.” 

__

Gojo brings you home quietly. 

When he enters, the T.V. is still on. You are curled up in his arms. He has no idea how long you’ve been crying and about what in particular - but that’s okay. Tonight, to him, is something like an anniversary. Like any time before, he has no intentions to treat you roughly. 

It’s a good night, he thinks. Even in the state you’re in, Gojo can only think of making it even more memorable. You’re an injured thing in his arms. A delicate bird with clipped wings, or a butterfly with a missing antenna. Without Gojo there to pick you up in all your broken pieces, you might’ve really fallen apart. 

It’s reasonable enough. For someone like you, he’s sure tonight has been so scary. It makes him feel a little sorry for you. It makes him want to make it all worse before he makes it all better. 

He can’t describe it, but there is something so right about seeing you like this. 

All angry and resentful and volatile. All lonely and scared and saddened and somber. All Gojo’s forever, permanently through everything. He’s made you so completely in his image, something he’s always wanted to do. Maybe you’re a trial run, in its own right, of all the things Gojo will be able to do in the future. What he’s capable of creating with enough effort. 

Gojo is gentle to you. Tender, as he carries you into the apartment. You help him turn off the T.V. and put the mug into the sink. He carries you too afterwards, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple, before pulling through the threshold of his bedroom. 

Just like that, you find yourself again in Gojo’s bedroom like you were so many weeks prior. You’re weakened and exhausted, so willing that he is endeared. Like this, he hovers over you. Looks at your tearstained face and smiles so lovingly. 

Regardless of everything that’s transpired, above all - this is a reunion of two lovers to Gojo Satoru. So in the midst of it, he wipes your tears and kisses your cheek and you don’t pull away. Now you’re so ruined you relish his comfort if only a little, and this time it’s perfect. It’s everything he’s always imagined. 

He’ll give you hope and freedom and let you be. Eventually, you’ll come to realize you’ll always need him a little. And it doesn’t matter, does it? That he’s made it that way on his own. Because it’s true. It’s righteous and religious and godly. Gojo Satoru is not god, but he does understand the urge to make something that listens. 

He kisses your soft cheeks and hums at you, nose nudging your skin. 

“Still feel like crying?” He asks you. You blink up at him like you’re only just now realizing where you are. Some emotion overwhelms you, but ultimately you shake your head no. Gojo grins impishly. 

“That’s good,” He says tenderly. He kisses your lips this time, and you kiss back. It catches him off guard but he doesn’t dislike it “You didn’t get hurt did you? And now we’re together again.” 

This does seem to incite waterworks in you but you don’t look like you have the energy to cry. He doesn’t push you too much. Though it is fun seeing you like this, Gojo is grateful he has some time to cherish you. 

“Scary world out there, y’know?” Gojo says between kisses. He adjusts you, your arms around his shoulders loosely “Hold onto me okay? I’ll make it all better.” 

You whimper under your voice but don’t go to thrash. There’s something about you that feels limp. A spirit softened and dampened, like wet soil. Gojo is okay with anything as long as it’s you, and there is some part of this he likes too. How pliant you become under the weight of your fear, so tantalizing to Gojo he can’t help himself but kiss you.  Riper than the fruit of Eden. Just as sweet.

He kisses you for longer than necessary. It’s intimate and hopeful. All tangled hands and pulling different parts of you up to his lips.The occasional press of his teeth in your skin, with his senses so high he can practically feel the blood rush through them. Your mouth is soft and warm, the breadth of mint on your tongue. He pushes his tongue past your lips but this time around, you don’t do anything to refuse it. 

So accepting like this. Gojo thinks life with you will prove to be exciting. 

He rests his hands on your waist and you don’t pull away from him. Such soft skin covered in a sheer layer of sweat. It’s making him dizzy to have you like this, to kiss you in his bed. Again, again, again. You belong here with him and nothing has ever been so true. The euphoria of everything is overwhelming. He can’t get enough of you. Even if in the moment he carved a spot into you forever and buried himself there, he cannot help but want to be spoiled by your lenience and affection. He can’t help himself but to possess all of you so even time cannot spoil iit. 

Despite yourself, you touch Gojo back gently. Knowing you, it is a way to deal with the pain. You want to forgive him as much as you want him to save you. You hate him as much as you love him. 

From the beginning, everything has been exactly like this. This was the end of all ends. 

This is a lesson in divine truth. 

You’ve made Gojo this way as much as he’s made you. If Gojo Satoru is to play as God, then he supposes you are much like an owner. Some part of you has made him love you unconditionally. A dog and his master. An animal with a love so violent it shakes windows. Gojo Satoru makes you love him through violent means, and like a dog left abandoned in the snow - your own empathy for his unconditional but broken love makes you protect him. It’s cyclical. It can never change because the universe has ordained it. Because everything Gojo touches is a divination from the heavens. 

Where Suguru proves to be a lesson, you are the dues he is owed. 

This is a lesson in divine truth. 

More simply, Gojo Satoru loves you in his own way. Any loyal dog will chase its owner no matter how far they run. He lives for you, after all. He’s made you in his image. The difference between god and dog is nothing more than a matter of positioning. 

You love him back in your own way. Because his character and his tragedy makes it so difficult to abandon him  and your disposition will never allow you. You’ll hate and resent him. You’ll grieve and you’ll cry. You will want to turn your back but he will always come to save you. And who can love you so loyally as a dog undisciplined? Who can keep your sheltered being protected like a wild hound?

Spring was an innocent century ago. Winter is here. Gojo loves you. 

“My birthday passed recently,” He tells you. You blink at him. 

“Oh?” 

“Can you guess what I want?” 

You don’t do much more than nod. It’s not permissive. You just know better by now, and that too is not something Gojo finds himself pleased with. 

“You don’t have to do any work,” He offers you as a reprieve, busying himself once again with undressing you. You’re still wearing the clothes he bought you all those weeks ago “Just don’t run away from me.” 

If you notice how heavy the words are, you’re smart enough not to do anything. Even still, Gojo can’t tell if there's a purpose behind it. Perhaps you just know it instinctively not to. 

He takes you apart carefully. Careful, thick fingers unbuttoning the front of your shirt. You’re wearing nothing underneath, and the sight of your bare skin is almost too much for him. The hickies have yet to heal, though now they’re yellow and softened by time. Gojo will have to leave more to bring back all the color to you. 

He starts at your jaw this time, teeth against your earlobe. Heart in your hands, he knows your body a little better now. 

And he takes his time with it this time too. Even slower than before. Even more consuming, even more adoring. 

He laps his tongue against your soft skin and eats. Your skin is salty and sweet and Gojo can’t contain himself. He gropes you lightly, planing his palms over your shoulders and squeezing your breasts tight. He’s missed touching you more than he knows what to do with. 

Even in being gentle, there’s little he can stop himself from trying to devour. You lay about him squirming as he undoes each and every part of you. He can’t pick which place to go and what thing to do first because he wants so wholly. It’s making his head spin to listen to your sweet and short whimpers. You spread yourself as you lay under him, hands pinned to your sides - demure and needy. 

How different it is but the same. Something about how you’re clinging to him so desperately is making him feel sick with lust. 

Instead of going any further, he pulls away from you momentarily. He puts his arms on your sides and flips you over till you’re on top of him

The sudden change in position leaves you gasping for air. Gojo gives you an amused grin as you fall forward - as he props himself up on pillows while you try and steady himself. He holds you close to him once you’re all set, face to face like this.

“Don’t run away from me,” He says, more seriously. You swallow. Gojo lets you up until you’re half-way over him. You’re so much weaker than him, moved and manhandled so easily. There’s a target on your back so often and Gojo loves being an arrow. 

He kisses the side of your body as you stand on your knees beside him. His fingers hook into your shorts and panties, sliding them off of your body all in a fell swoop. He squeezes your ass slightly, spreading you apart.

“Look at you all bent over for me,” He coos, hands reaching underneath you to toy with your pussy. You whine, shuddering, clinging to his shoulders. “So pretty, baby. Prettiest girl.” 

A hiccup bobs in your throat. Gojo moves his fingers lower and lower, familiar now with the feel of you. Your cunt is just as welcoming as he remembers. The idea of making love sends a shiver through his whole body. Blood rushes to his cock like a bolt of lightning in his veins. He pushes his middle finger into your twitching, needy hole. 

Another sound, cut off by a garbled word of surprise, falls out of your mouth. You’re soaking. Ripe for taking. Gojo wants to fuck you more than anything.

He takes a deep breath, whispering to your skin. 

“Fuck,” He laughs, giggling at the thought of it “I’m gonna break you, huh? Gotta be—shit, need to be extra careful with you, right my love?” 

“Please be gentle.” You say at his request.

“Of course, of course but—” He squeezes your hip as he feels his middle finger go into you down to the knuckle. You roll your hips against him involuntarily  “You just—you’d look so good so full of my cock, y’know? Been thinkin’ about it for weeks.” 

And he has, means every word. You shudder at the confession. He quirks his lips as he fucks into you, relishing in those pretty little sounds that fall out of your lips. 

“You like that?” He grunts, another finger to stretch you out a little more for him “You like when I tell you about all the dirty things you make me think about?” 

Shame fills you, like Gojo’s lit a match under you. He can feel your heartbeat pick up. Is it the being so wanted or is it the crassness and humiliation? Maybe both. Sometime later he’ll pick it apart more closely. He lets himself talk you through it, so close to your skin as he whispers all the filth to you that he can. Confesses it to you. 

“Weeks and weeks, baby. Couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect and wet you would feel when I finally took you like this. Gonna make it so good for you, you won’t have to think about anything else again.” 

The promise sends you limp. When Gojo finally feels both of his fingers slide in and out of you with no resistance at all, he sighs lightly and pulls away. The loss of contact makes you whine, but he brings you back to his lap now, sitting with your legs on either side of his. 

His cock, clothed and restrained in his sweats, swells against your wet cunt. He watches your eyes widen as you stare at it, lucid enough this time to realize what it looks like. He looks up at you, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

“C’mon. You can look.” 

He guides you to the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull his pants down slowly, looking up for permission (which Gojo gives in a loving nod) before taking his boxers off too. His cock is so hard it’s almost painful. The tip is a flush red, white hairs trimmed neat at the base and feeling so fucking heavy Gojo can’t stand it. He hisses as your hands reach for him instinctively, and you try to pull away before he stops you. 

“Touch it, sweetheart” He encourages, wrapping your hand around it for you “Feel it? That’s all you.” 

A flush graces your features. For a minute, it’s all love and nothing more. Nothing less. Too briefly for it to mean anything, but enough for Gojo to know it. You wrap your hands around his shaft and stroke tentatively and Gojo groans shamelessly into you, rutting his hips into the round part of your palms. 

“Fuck that’s it,”

He looks at your expression, examining the concentration before chuckling. Your lip is poked out, eyes dazed. He pulls away from you, securing you close to him. 

With the new proximity, he holds his cock close to you. Measure it up against your skin, against your tummy. He feels you against him, Around him, folds nudging apart for him, The skin on skin alone has him so breathless. A dizzy sort of feeling as he presses the tip of his cock hard against your clit. You feel like silk around him. 

Looking at you like this, all helpless and needy, he can’t help but think about how easily he can overpower you. He’s stronger and bigger. His cock would be enough to split you in half. How he’s gonna make himself fit inside of you spins in his mind over and over. Maybe like always, your pretty little pussy will yield just for him. You’ll open and endure and take him so deep. 

He can’t help appreciating it. Can’t keep his thoughts quiet from telling you. 

“See that? How deep I’m gonna go?” He measures up to you. A hand on the bottom of your stomach, stroking his thumb “Gonna feel me right in here. You ready?” 

You close your eyes and look away. Gojo grabs your chin and tuts at you. 

“Nuh-uh. Want you to see. Don’t close your eyes.”  

It’s not a question or a request. 

So, you watch. Gojo lifts you up just enough to line up with your entrance and sinks you down so, so slowly on his cock. It’s agonizing how slow. It’s incredible how fucking good you feel. How perfect one sensation could possibly fucking be - Gojo could die here in complete bliss. He can feel the stretch of your pussy trying to accommodate. That sensation of resistance that sends him reeling, spine tingling and skin prickling with a heat so intense he feels like he’s going to pass out just sitting there. 

And then there’s looking at you, which proves to be an entirely new animal. You have this pinched expression, a shocked little gasp as Gojo pushes through. A whimper leaves your lips. Gojo rubs his thumb on your lower lip as he eases you down. 

“Hurt too much?” 

“N-no. Just… feels weird.” 

He laughs a little at your honesty, before fucking himself into you even deeper. Another inch and he really starts to feel you. Your walls feel like they’re sucking him and Gojo wouldn’t leave if it killed him. He groans, deep in his chest as you shake. Your grip on his shoulders gets tighter and tighter. 

With one more smooth thrust, Gojo sits you down on his cock completely. He feels so complete like this. Everything in him is at ease feeling your insides spasm and melt around him. He sighs contentedly.

“Still okay?” 

You nod weakly. 

“Can I move?” 

Your reply is nothing more than a whimper.

So he does, but he does so slowly. Just to get into the rhythm. He thrusts up slowly. 

‘O-oh. Oh, oh it’s,” 

He chuckles against the crook of your neck, hugging you close to him. He loves the way you feel against his body, the way your frame fits so perfectly into him. He rolls his hips up into you so there’s no effort on you to move. You whine that time, and he does again and again until your voice is a mess. 

“Starting to feel good?” 

“S-satoru.” 

He swears. 

“Fuck, stop that,” He swears “Gonna—shit, gonna cum right away. Moving so hold onto me tight, baby.” 

You take his words for it. Gojo feels your soft tits pressed into his chest as he pulls your hips up and starts fucking up into you. Each time he does, he feels like he can feel all the way to the back of you. None of his fantasies could compare to the feeling of being this deep inside, cock nudging against that sweet spot that keeps making you fucking mewl into his ear. He can hardly take it as it is now, focusing hard on not cumming until you do.

Making it good for you is his priority. Always has been, but you make it hard for him like you do most things. 

“Touch yourself for me, okay?” 

You look at him surprised but listen to his request regardless. Gojo takes to fucking you steadily. He builds an even rhythm as he keeps you up, hands firm on your hips as he pistons you from underneath. The pleasure comes in waves, undulates as blood continues to rush to his cock. He’s so hard he can’t think straight but he keeps each of his thrusts consistent, lines them with the pace you play with your clit so he can encourage you to cum for him. 

He can tell you’re starting to feel good when your mouth falls agape. He drags on your walls with each punctuated movement and your thighs shake and tense. Everything comes together so slowly but the pleasure comes at once. It’s a force that’s nearly earth shattering. All the planets aligned, everything in the same plane. Everything for him and for you. For the togetherness he’s created and chased after so long.

Now this part of you is all his too. 

“Sa—Satoru,” You warn, your hands trembling and fingers cramped up with need. He grunts as he stares up at you through thrusts “G-gonna…” 

“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock? Go on. Know you can do it, baby. So good for me. Perfect for me.” 

It’s all babbling for him now, the sensation hitting him in waves. Your mouth falls agape and you cum so hard Gojo can feel every fucking pulse. Squeezing his cock hard enough he wants to grit his teeth. He presses his mouth to yours instead as you moan out, unable to hold it in. He swallows every noise like he’s trying to embed them into himself.

You cum hard and fast and Gojo is so quick to follow you. Only seconds after you fall limp into his arms does he feel it - no longer able to stave off the urge to cum so deep in you it stays forever. To mark you deeply you never think of anything. It’s almost animalistic for him. Every nerve on his body is on fire as he shoots his cum deep into you, sitting you on his dick with nowhere for you to go. 

Panting, he pulls back to gaze on you. He’s still hard as he’s twitching. He can’t hold off tonight, he doesn’t think. But he’ll give you a minute to collect yourself. He presses a kiss to your hairline. 

He whispers softly as the night comes to a quiet, quiet still. 

“I’m yours and you’re mine baby. Forever and always.” 

You shake. And Gojo knows you well enough to know that it’s the resentment coming back in waves. But that’s okay, because Gojo loves you. 

And with this, he’s taken everything.

EPILOGUE / OVERTURE : 

Your senses are accustomed to Gojo by now. 

You never thought such a day would come. You spent the first year of this relationship (if you can call it that, to begin with) in trenches so deep you couldn’t really tell left from right. So many things persisted as normal, but nothing was ever the same. 

In that, though, Gojo stayed by your side till the bitter end. He nursed you back into health and sometimes treated you so kindly that you could almost forget who you were dealing with. Sometimes the weight of everything became too heavy. You think you love Gojo almost as much as you hate him.

But it doesn’t particularly matter what your feelings are. Has it ever, in any of this? You always knew that something was strange but you didn’t think you were so clueless. Blindly following wherever his voice took you. 

The first time you try to escape Gojo feels like so long ago. That time, he let you go quite far. You made it out of the house and even went out of the country during summer. But you were sloppy and inexperienced. When he found you and brought you back home, you figured it had been a fluke. You’d learn from it. You’d do it again and that time you would succeed. 

That’s what you told yourself anyway. It’s how this all started. Where you would run, and Gojo would let you before he started to miss you. He’d come and he’d discipline but it was never too cruel. 

(You wished it were. You wished it were sickly and sadistic and tortuous. You think it’s so much worse to beg for mercy when you are sobbing from pleasure. For Gojo to coddle and sedate you and never yield. You think you’d prefer if he were just out of it. Just cruel instead of what he is. Which is knowing but certain. Justified.) 

This has been the farthest you’ve ever gotten. You don’t think you’ve ever been this far away from home. A cabin in the woods where you lived peacefully for days. You don’t know how Gojo found you. 

You had been so sure. This was it. It had to be it. 

Your heart shatters as you hear him. Feel him in your bones so much it frightens you. The world is covered in a sheet of white, and your ankles are bruised  and bleeding from where you’ve fallen. You’re cold and your heart is beating so loud - but no matter how much you run you can’t find any heartbeat to motivate you.

Gojo pulls through the thickets with a frown on his face. Blue eyes and black coat, his feet crunch the snow as he comes towards you. You crawl away. You try too, anyways. 

Gojo leans down to your level, looking at you closely. He reaches out to brush snow away from your skin. 

“My birthdays soon, you know?” He hums, not angry today. Not even wanting to discipline you “It’s not a bad place, y’know? The cabin. We can spend some time there before we go home. Might be nice. But we should get going so we can check on your foot.” 

He reaches his hand out to you this time. Too injured to run, you take it and he smiles before offering to carry you on his back. You hop on, arms around his neck and don’t even cry. A numbness settles. 

It is not the cold. 

“Oh, look,” Gojo says, reaching his hands out “Snow’s falling.” 

You suppose it is. Another Winter will pass just like this. 

A dog howls somewhere far off in the distance.

[fatkish]

Hello there :) Im new in your blog and i read a dadzawa fic in which his daughter entered in a fight. So i wanted to request something similar, but she is a a rebel teenager (biological daughter too) and she got involved in a street fight, but even though she won he was patrolling with mic and they saw it and stoped it. And then maybe the aftermath.

Thank you love 💜🖤

Aizawa x Teenage Rebel Daughter Reader: Streetfight

(Trigger warning: mentions of attempted sexual assault underneath the cut)

You’re, let’s say, 15. Your Aizawa’s Biological daughter

And you’re in somewhat of a rebellious phase

Aizawa can be rather strict and his punishments might seem disproportionate to the reason for it, but he loves you, and wants you to understand that there are consequences for your actions

One night, you managed to sneak out while your dad was asleep

You managed to sneak some sleeping pills that were crushed up into his coffee

Needless to say he was down for the count

So you decided to go have fun and do all that rebellious teenager stuff

Well, sadly, it didn’t go quite as you hoped

You where walking down the street after leaving the Kombini mart and managed to attract the attention of a couple thugs

Now Aizawa has taught you self defense

But that only goes so well when you have multiple assailants

Despite your best efforts, one of the thugs managed to drag you into an alley.

The five of them against you, your odds weren’t looking good

Despite a few good punches and well placed kicks, one of them managed to grab your hands and restrained you while the other tied a handkerchief around your mouth essentially gagging you

It was at this moment you knew, you fucked up

Things were looking really bad and you were actually scared and afraid of the situation

Just as they began to try to remove your clothes, you closed your eyes in an attempt to protect yourself from seeing it happen

Suddenly a commotion was heard as you guessed they started fighting? You knew the sounds of a fight but this was a little much

Once the sounds died down you heard footsteps grow closer to you

“(Y/n) are you okay? They didn’t touch you did they? Please tell me I’m not too late”

That voice, that’s your dad.

You opened your eyes to see the worried and frantic look on your father’s face

The moment your restraints were undone you jumped into your father’s arms

You cried and tried to hide it but Aizawa didn’t mention it.

After that, Mic made sure to stay behind after he caught up to Aizawa and deal with the police and thugs

Aizawa took you home and after consoling you he told you your punishment for sneaking out and attempting to drug him was to write a 6 page report about why you shouldn’t sneak out and the lesson you learned from your experience

Aizawa made sure you were okay mentally, physically and emotionally before he enacted his punishment

Overall, he loves you so much so don’t scare the poor man like that ever again

[headphones-lifeform]

Tumblr in the Star Trek universe: part 6

part 1 ~ part 2 ~ part 3 ~ part 4 ~ part 5 ~

@fake-post-archive

Was dissapointed by the lack of 23rd-24th century contemporary media shown in Star Trek so I made my own for these characters to get invested in.

the "crimedirective" account is my OC, Tenfold Pollux. My OC content is archived at @uss-sonder. Their post is based on a meme I drew.

🧝legolasappreciationblog-334 Follow

so weird having mutuals who are actually into contemporary media 🙃 not me listening to you all ramble about interstellar cryptid hunter or whatever while being obsessed with a 500 year old book

👽isch-tlan-forever Follow

YOU DONT UNDERSTAND interstellar cryptid hunter is so good??? its got a lot of diversity for an earth show- the mc is a vulcan (t'lan my beloved) and they actually have episodes for cryptids from a wide variety of planets (tho i am a sucker for the mothman episode)

#aaaaa #rambles #interstellar cryptid hunter #isch #everyone go watch it

14 notes

🔥hottakes-submissions Follow

having "cardassians dni" in your desc is actually really racist... just write "cardassia apologists dni" instead

🔲idkwhattocallmyblog-deactivated

isnt that basically the same thing?

🌌m1lkyw4y Follow

no. no it is not.

🌟showmethestars Follow

I've been on this site for centuries and can tell you that the reading comprehension level has not changed at all.

🍞coolest-loaf-01 Follow

🌟showmethestars

Not quite! I'm El-Aurian.

#tumblr sure is tumbling today #24th century posts

407 notes

🦔bel0vedcreatures Follow

I am so sorry for posting that tribble picture without a trigger warning! Can promise it will never happen again.

🧍someguygenderneutral Follow

why would tribbles be triggering? annoying i can understand, but they are literally harmless?

👀not-gowron Follow

*stares in klingon*

🧍someguygenderneutral

ah. sorry

#tw tribble mention #i guess??

25 notes

🦐the-danger-shrimp Follow

petition for the bel0vedcreatures blog to post moopsy

#not tagging them because im scared #what if they actually find this

8 notes

🏴‍☠️crimedirective Follow

trasnporter accident shrunk me down what do now

🏴‍☠️crimedirective

i am bonking my head at the screen to type

🏴‍☠️crimedirective

they put me back through. am ok now

🍜wet-spaghetti Follow

wasn't this the plot of a bunch of earth movies?

#spaghetti reblogs #honestly cant tell whether this is a shitpost or not #starfleet is actually just like that

253 notes

Hope you enjoyed!

[vhstown]

i just wanted to share this

can i just let you guys know that at british schools (im speaking for ldn mainly) they ban kids from talking about palestine. like you get in trouble for speaking about it / having symbols that relate to palestine at all.

a year 7 at my school got detention for drawing a palestine flag on their hand. my 5 yr old little cousin had a hairclip with the design of the flag confiscated. we do presentations at school every friday morning and our teacher told us we can't talk about anything related to palestine & israel. the only reason we got told this was because it was for our "safety"

trigger warning under the cut for bomb threats and threats to harm young children

today i heard about an islamic school getting a bomb threat (or some other violent threat) in relation to palestine. a primary school no less (children ages 4 to 11)

if this is part of the reason, it's understandable, but personally i struggle to understand why students are so punished for it. obviously im upset by it but then again im not sure how to feel, or just who advised schools to do this. i just wanted to share because i am deeply frustrated by the action of my school and many others, and worried by the increasing threats to muslim communities in the UK.

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free. continue to use your platforms and amplify the voices in palestine. do not forget. the genocide impacts you more than you think.

[seraphirism]

what happened at the end of chapter 4?? im not really updated anymore due to busy schedule :/

hii, and I’d be happy to explain (*^^*)!

readers, please be aware that there are spoilers below (of chapter 4 and “wish upon a black rabbit” or 黒兎に願いを込めて event story) so proceed with discretion!

I tried my best to condense it but I wasn’t sure how far you had read, plus the story following part 3 of chapter 4 till part 5 is completely connected (in a way that you wouldn’t understand one part if you didn’t know the previous part) so I gave it my best shot! I’ll include a tldr at the very end so you can read that if you want to avoid the barrage of text; I went kinda overboard?

in chapter 4, as we know, Boschi’s demon took over him; he lost control to it. but unlike the case of Bastien, Haures and Lato where they lost control because of an emotional outburst (caused by extreme despair or rage), Boschi gave control to his demon on purpose.

(just in case if you don’t know/remember why, let me give a brief summary!)

Aruji and the second floor butlers were sent over to guard the Seirans/セイラン, a noble family in the East. this was after kidnappings and attacks were done by an unknown assailant (the white headed, elf looking guy). the stranger was specifically targeting nobles associated with the Sardis family.

while they were there, the butlers were at the same time investigating if the Seiran family had been in cahoots with the Sardis family (you know in, child trafficking and experimentation).

earlier in the chapter Boschi revealed that around 300 years ago, his mother and grandmother (who was actually his nanny) were killed on the orders of Seiran family. (that was a long story; if you want me to explain that, please send me another ask, I’ll do that separately :D!)

then skip to a week later, while Aruji and the butlers were staying at their residence (and doing their guard duties) the elf guy kidnapped the head of the Seiran family. Boschi decided he and Ammon would protect Aruji and the wife of the head of the family (while they stayed in the Seiran family’s residence), and Haures and Fennesz would leave to search for the head of the Seiran family with the help of his guards.

elf guy was targeting the families associated with Sardis. that’s because a large group of his people/compatriots went missing/were kidnapped; he suspected the Seiran family was involved with it (due to their association with the Sardis family that were publicly exposed to be carrying out human trafficking. )

it is later revealed that the Seiran family was responsible for that, in particular the wife of the head of the family (because of her twisted obsession with beauty; you’d need a separate post to understand her). she was later injured by Seraphim and killed by elf guy. unfortunately for elf guy, his people are then taken by Seraphim and Cherbim.

then Chrone/スローン attacked Aruji, Boschi and Ammon whilst this happened. however this time was different; instead of trying to kill the butlers, he was attempting to kill Aruji (so the butlers would become seriously upset/angry and thus fall under the control of their demon, fight Chrone in that state to see how strong the butlers really are. (his mission was to access the full strength of the butlers).

whilst fighting, Boschi loses his prosthetic arm protecting Aruji.

(boschi’s demon is called Zaebos/ザエボス by the way!)

Zaebos offers to give Boschi all his power for this fight (basically unlock his full potential) if Boschi agrees to give up his life to the demon (i.e die) by the end of the fight. their whole talk and meeting happens in Boschi’s subconsciousness. Boschi agrees after he loses his prosthetic arm, the incident acting as a trigger.

(he realised he and Ammon couldn’t defeat Chrone by the time Haures and Fennesz would arrive and Aruji could lose their life.).

before fully losing control to his demon (like how Bastien and the rest did), he gives Ammon a warning. then he attacks Chrone. in the end, both Ammon and Boschi managed injure Chrone enough for him to agree to leave when Seraphim asks him to (since they got an idea of how strong the devil butlers are under the influence of their demon.)

but Boschi, having lost complete control to his demon side, now attacks Ammon. Ammon, having trained with Boschi for years and years on end, well aware of Boschi’s moves and what was Boschi’s weakness in a fight (—he gets exhausted easily and rapidly loses energy to fight.), exploits this. Boschi collapses in the end, Aruji comes over and does their whole usual going into their “heart”.

this time though, when Aruji goes there, Boschi was chained to a throne (I think it was a throne?) and asleep, and Zaebos (who has the form of a leopard by the way) appeared and told Aruji that it’s no use trying to awaken Boschi because he had promised his life to him in return for power.

Aruji tries their best (which was a very emotional scene by the way, the way they kept calling out for Boschi despite Zaebos telling them that Boschi is gone for good 😭) and Boschi finally manages to hear their voice (he was in a dream-like place with his mother and grandmother, possibly passing over to the other side/about to die). he comes back and tells his demon that while he did promise to give his life to the demon, he did not specify “when” he’d give his life up (that was such a move on his part, our king ✨). so long story short, Boschi promises to give his life up to the demon when Aruji dies in the future (so he’ll die when Aruji dies.).

next thing you know, he manages to wake up with Ammon collapsed at his side. Fennesz and Haures arrive with the master of the Seiran family (who they found on their way back in a bad state). His wife, Falin is dead. there will be trials in the East to implicate the Seiran family officially.

there’s a whole mess going on with Eastern Lords Alliance but Finley will attempt his best to settle the situation; he also adds that the butlers may be asked for their assistance in the matter of finding the stranger (mr elf; please devs, give him a name already or I’ll—).

[also, I nearly forgot to add; mr elf is being suspected for the crime of killing Falin, the mistress of Seiran family since she was killed with a sword and the public believe angels would not use swords to kill, rather their light/power. in actuality, he attempted to end her life with a quick blow of his sword instead of leaving her to bleed to death from Seraphim’s attack which was from a sword.

the angels use swords now too by the way ✨ like yay, their powers weren’t enough.)

then, we’re back at devil’s palace (yay! our visit was more than a week long, less than 2 weeks, if I’m not wrong). Aruji and the second floor butlers get some much needed rest. Boschi shows Aruji their new prosthetic arm (which was made from the material of his old prosthetic arm.).

he seemed much more at peace now (but we later learn in the black bunny festival [黒兎に願いを込めて] event story that losing his prosthetic arm did trigger his memories of losing his actual arm, so now whenever he spars he gets flashbacks of Chrone cutting his prosthetic arm off. those flashbacks make him freeze up while fighting. for this reason, he trains a lot more to get over this, than he did prior to this incident.

anyhow, that event story and his card story sheds light on to boschi’s state right after chapter 4, in a bit more detail.).

lastly, Berrien visits Belen and says he hopes to be able to save Belen someday.

i read the story about 2 weeks ago; though, there’s a huge chance i might have gotten something mixed up/wrong. so feel free to correct me in the comments or send me an ask! there’s also a lot of stuff i left out because i was afraid it would get too long (it still did 😭) like about:

a: Falin/フアリン, the mistress of the Seiran family, who i’d say was the most interesting character in this chapter. i could write paragraphs upon paragraphs about her.

(i love the writing of aknk but i also believe they could have given more information on Seiran family and how they came to be what they are. They have a lot of potential for a follow up event story or even a side story. I hope in a side story we get more information or maybe in the next main story?)

b: Boschi’s past; we got a lot of information about his life and, how after everything he came to meet Berrien and became a butler.

c: Ammon! we got insight into his thoughts and feelings from when Haures became demonized, and how he feels inferior to the other butlers, how he puts less effort into training because he feels he can never reach the level Haures and Boschi are on. And so on!

d: i also skipped explaining the first two parts and a bit of part 3 of chapter 4 since you asked for the ending; (but that involved Berrien, Belen, Lono and were not exactly relevant to what happened with Boschi and the ending of chapter 4.).

Tldr: Boschi loses control to his demon after losing his prosthetic arm, he manages to defeat Chrone with the help of Ammon. Aruji brings him back from the control of his demon though ultimately he will have to give his life up to his demon the day Aruji dies. there’s investigation going on into the Seiran family, the stranger (mr elf) and his identity. his people (from the valley) are still missing because Cherubim and Seraphim took them. the butlers might get a request to aid in the investigation of mr elf.

i hope this helped (^^)! feel free to send another ask if you’re confused about something or want further explanation; i like talking about aknk so it’s no trouble for me. i hope your schedule eases up a bit, please remember to take breaks and eat/drink — have a wonderful day ✨!

[jesslockwood]

Detecting the Haunted Masterlist 

Chapter Three

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing(s): Anthony Lockwood x Detective!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

A/n: hello friends! I'm sorry I haven't posted in forever!!! its going to be a busy summer for me as its my last year in my acting program, and I have professional Shakespeare shows coming up (auditions and rehearsals) soon. I really hope to be active but im not sure how active I will be but I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Add yourself to the Taglist

In all of Anthony’s life, he wanted people to love him. He wasn’t sure why but the praise of others and the showering of adoration towards him just gave him the feeling of being loved. Maybe it was because that’s what his life was missing, love. 

The current problem with wanting to be even just admired, was that you wouldn’t speak to him, unless absolutely necessary or with someone else in the room. He couldn’t pin point what had changed, but it put him in a grouchy mood. 

He had even snapped at George and Lucy at one point, because of it, which he felt bad about.

He just couldn’t understand why you would all of a sudden you just seem to loathe the mere presence of him. 

That was until he saw you having a conversation with none other than Quill Kipps in the library. That made Lockwood want to explode. He did his best to keep his composure, but how could he? Especially when someone he cared for was talking to his rival. 

You had laughed at something he said, before Anthony made his way over. 

“Tony! I see you have a new agent in training on your hands.” Kipps seemingly tries to antagonize him, “I thought you had enough troubles trying to keep your agency afloat, Being such a small and insignificant one.” 

Lockwood grits his teeth, and his fist goes into a ball, clenching it so tightly. 

“Anyway, my offer still stands.” He says directed towards Y/n in a overly confident tone before making his leave.

Anthony tightens his jaw even more if that was even possible to do so.

You shake your head while smiling, as Kipps leaves and Anthony notices. 

“When’d you get so chummy with Kipps?” He asks with an intensity that you can only describe as uncomfortable.

You ignore his prompted stare down, and shift over a book, and open it to start your next reading.

He keeps staring waiting for you answer.

“When did you get so controlling with who I talk to? Last time I checked you were my boss, not my boyfriend.” You say not even meeting his gaze, ignoring the way saying boyfriend made your body tingle.

He looks genuinely shocked, and hurt, when you spew the words with venom at him, wth a fiery anger, but you had to hate him, or else you’d hate everyone else around you. The problem was that hating everyone wasn't an option you wanted to explore, so your anger had to be directed towards Anthony Lockwood. That was or else it would consume you.

George walks towards the two, carefully, as if he could be the detonator to explode one of the two colleges of his on each other.

“I uh, found the paper in the archives we were looking for, Y/n.” He says before carefully setting it down on the table the two of you were working at.

George had noticed the tension in the house between Lockwood and Y/n, he knew Lucy could feel it too, as she kept trying to get Lockwood and Y/n to avoid each other as much as possible as she tried to figure out what triggered all this, for lack of a better term, teenage angst in the house. 

Well it felt like more than just teenage angst. It felt like a rage radiating off of the two directed towards each other, as if they were two old miserable manifestations bickering like an old couple while trying to murder everyone in the way that ticked them off.

Yeah that was more of the level of tension that was going on, especially when Lucy or himself got caught in the crossfire of the two. He actually didn’t hate Y/n, he had gotten to tolerate her during their times in the archives, but he couldn’t get a good reading of why she acted the way she did towards them, but mostly Lockwood. He was so curious of what was making her tick, or ticked off, pun intended.

Even Lockwood was making things feel off. He had been pissed almost every single day these past couple of weeks, and had even bursted with anger towards himself and Lucy.

George started to think of all the ways he could figure out what was wrong, and deiced to let Lucy in on his plot when he got home, to figure out what the hell these two had tasted to be so bitter to everyone.

George had come out of dreamland to find Y/n and Lockwood bickering.

“At least I talked to someone who wasn’t a stuck up prick for once!” Y/n almost yells.

“I think you’ve got it all wrong, love, you did talk to the stuck up prick, he just left with what’s left of his dignity, from the last time he was here!” Lockwood raises her one.

“Guys, Guys!” Lucy comes rushing In to break it up, “Maybe let’s try to not get kicked out of the archives? Y/n let’s uh, go get lunch, there’s this place I've been meaning to take you to.” 

Y/n gives Anthony one last glare before, picking up her jacket and heading out with Lucy.

“Well, that was awkward…” George mumbles faintly, before giving Lockwood a disappointed look before getting back to work.

“Urgh! He such a pompous ass!” You rant to Lucy, in between shoving pizza in your mouth. 

“Lockwood can be… selfish. But it’s really more because he wants the us and the whole agency to benefit… trust me I know it all too well.” She tries to console you, and you can see the genuine hurt in her eyes from it. 

If he could hurt Lucy, and get others hurt, even killed… who knows what the guy could do to you. Maybe the Job Kipps offered you wasn’t such a bad idea. 

It especially felt good to know it would make Lockwood infuriated. Maybe this was a chance to get a back at Lockwood a bit. Not to the degree you wanted, but it was something.

You make small talk with Lucy while eating, coming up with a plan in your head of how to piss him off the most.

To say Lockwood was pissed was a total understatement. He was enraged.

George and Lucy even seemed to tiptoed around Lockwood as of recently, and Lockwood felt nothing but isolated, and that led him to be able to sit and stew in his anger even longer. 

The both of you seemed to avoid each other physically, which made Lockwood all the more furious. The only time you’d see each other was for training, which George and Lucy had taken over most of that, and cases.

Today you had to train with your rapier again, and that was the main thing Lockwood oversaw.

“C’mon again!” He yells, as you missed one of the practice targets. 

You glare daggers into his direction, as he seemly does the same. 

“I would be a lot better if I didn’t have the constant screaming in my ear.” You mumble sarcastically.

“Sorry, I didn’t get that? Maybe you could actually try this time?” He says before smirking and leaning back to where he was sitting seeming satisfied with ticking you off.

“I’d like to see you do better.” You taunt stalking towards him, “The best I’ve seen in action was the Fittes team at a case I was working.”

He clenches his jaw, looking at you with an intense fire behind his eyes. 

“You’re more show than skill.” You smirk as his face turns even more sour. He gets up and moves right into your personal space. 

“Really? If you think I’m all show, then lets put it to the test, Love.” He pulls his rapier out and backs you into the wall.

You visibly gulp, not because of his challenge, but the sheer proximity of how close his face was to yours. 

He stares into your eyes, with his full of an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint. He had a anger but there was something else behind it. 

He shakes his head and scoffs, turning around walking away.

That made your whole body burn with fury. You knew he was one of the best from stories you had heard, but boy did that make you want to try harder to be better. 

“Like I said, all show.” You mumble loud enough for him to hear. 

He stops on the spot, turning around about to say something, and before he can Lucy is running down the stairs with a small stack of letters in her hand. 

“Hey, Y/n You’ve got mail.” 

You give Lockwood a victory smirk, and he gives you a glare saying ‘this isn’t over’.

“Thanks, Lucy.” You take the mail form her, before looking it over, until stopping on one letter in particular. 

“Crap…” you mumble to yourself, opening it quickly. 

Lockwood and Lucy seem intrigued to know what had gotten the rise out of you.

You skim over the letter, or well, the invitation. Your grandparents wanted to see you, and you knew that they rarely did unless it had to do with their agenda. 

You started to feel ill, hoping it was you actually getting sick to get out of it, instead of the idea of visiting them. 

“What is it?” Lockwood asks slightly worried as you lean to grab the wall. 

You want to throw the letter out, but you hand it to Lucy, “You can read it amongst yourselves, if you wish, Especially since I think I’m going to need you to accompany me.”

They give each other a look, as you head upstairs and They both follow you up quickly, if not seconds later. 

George seems intrigued to what is going on, and comes out of the sitting room area, with his usual cleaning gear on, and duster in his hand. 

Lucy starts reading aloud, “Y/n Y/l/n and Lockwood & co, You are formally invited to The Saunders Ball, this Friday. Please wear formal wear and please arrive early to meet and dine with The Saunders.”

“How in the bloody hell do you know the Saunders?!” Lockwood almost yells.

George pipes up, “And why would one of the oldest of richest families in London want dinner with with us?”

“Blood Relation, to me, unfortunately.” You say, wishing this wasn’t their reaction. 

Lucy and Lockwood sit there with their mouths ajar, while George looks like he’s going through every probability in his mind.

“Look, there’s no need to come. I can face my grandparents myself-“

“There’s no way were passing this up. It’s an opportunity for the company to find more clients.” Lockwood pipes up.

Your jaw clenches as try you to smile to pretend to be pleased that he wants to come. 

“Great. does everyone have formal wear? Or do we have to go shopping?”

Lucy shakes her head no, and you give a light smile, before grabbing her hand.

“Let’s go then, my treat.” You say before running out the door with Lucy. 

Lockwood gives one last glance at the door, before standing up.

“C’mon George, Lets go find out all we can about the Saunders.”

Lockwood wouldn’t try to dive into your history if he could help it, but he needed to know anything he could about who’s doors he was about to step into and how to best be prepared to gain new clients. 

Lucy had told you a bit about her past life, how she didn’t come from much, and her old employer, and briefly what happened to her best friend Norrie.

“Hey Lu?” You grab her attention with the nickname you called her in your nightly talks, “Im sorry.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, looking directly at you as you walked down the street of the shops. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about all this. It’s something my Mum left in the past when she left home from my grandparents. I’ve never really lived rich my mother just came from money.” You sigh as you continue to explain, “We really lived off of my Dad’s pay, and my mother worked part time in a flower shop. It- it’s not really important what they did. But my grandparents- well they only ever summon me if they want something.”

Lucy gives a sympathetic look, with almost an understanding. 

“My grandparents hated my dad, because the took their only daughter away, to live a ‘life of poverty’ and my dad, ‘he couldn’t provide’. Ah, it’s so messed up! Then my parents had me, and all they ever wanted was me to become their ‘Perfect grandchild of the Saunders’ but I never was that, or could be that.” You ramble it all out.

“I’m sorry y/n” she replies, “For all that family rubbish. I- I know the struggle of family too well.” She mentions with an understanding you’ve never felt. 

You felt so heard. You felt so seen even though your pasts couldn’t have been more different. It was so touching.

“Thank you. For being my friend.” You blurt out, as she gives you a genuine smile. 

“C’mon let's check out this shop!” You say while dragging her in and you both giggle. 

Lockwood was tapping his fingers against the table. He was getting George to pull article after article about your grandparents. After Fairfax, Lockwood couldn’t just walk into this blindly, especially at the reaction that Y/n had at the mere invitation of dinner with them. 

The archives seemed to have little to no information so far, other than that they were old money for being a huge lavender supply over the years and that they had a similar social circle to Fairfax; rich and socialites. Their only link to each other was Marissa Fittes and Penelope Fittes.

Lockwood sighed, as he hoped this wouldn’t turn into another Fairfax situation. At this point in time, he didn’t think he could really trust y/n anymore. 

But maybe that was the problem between himself and y/n, that she couldn’t trust him. He never had thought about it that way. He had told Lucy and George about his past, but not y/n, so maybe that’s why she didn’t share much about herself. 

Maybe it was time Lockwood let himself go of this rampant disease of the feeling of resentment. At least to a small degree, just so they all could survive dinner and the ball with one of London's most powerful and influential families. 

It was finally the day to head to dinner and the ball with your grandparents, and you were just pretending to have it all together, but underneath you were an earthquake of nerves waiting to start to rumble. 

You were curling Lucy’s hair with an curling iron, trying to distract yourself from the whole situation. 

“That’s a beautiful necklace you have on.” You mention breaking the almost silence as the record player played a soft tune in the back of the room.

She grabs it, fiddling with it, “Thanks, Lockwood gave it to me, for the Fittes ball.” You freeze for a second, trying to hold your face still in the same way it was. 

You were partly shocked she even mentioned it, because that was the night your father had died at the hands of him.  You were Devastated but wasn’t the only emotion you were feeling, you couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest when she said Lockwood gave it to her. You hated yourself even more for falling into this trap of his charms. 

You were trying to hold a small smile, ads you finished Lucy’s hair. Your eyes started to water slightly, and as you tried to hold your tears in, there was a knock at the door. 

“Luce, Y/n, are you two ready yet?” Lockwood asks from the other side.

“You’re done Lu.” You say before turning around before the tears started to come out and started to go get your dress on. 

“I’m coming out, Y/n just has to put her dress on.” Lucy explains.

“Okay.” He repsonds.

Lucy slips out, and you here her shoes click against the stairs as she walks down. 

You wipe away your tears and start to pull your dress on before hearing your name being called.

 “Y/n?” 

“Yes Lockwood?” You reply.

You start to struggled with he zipper on your dress, as Lockwood starts to speak, “I just wanted to say that I’m- Y/n/n are you okay?” He asks as you made a loud sound as you crashed into the vanity. 

“Uh yeah I just can’t- I can’t get this stupid zipper.” You sigh in defeat, “Can you come in and help me?”

“Yeah, of course.” He says as he opens the door. His breath is taken away as If his lungs were ghost touched. You were leaning against the vanity, with a beautiful red dress on. 

“I know it’s pathetic but that the last case we had this week hurt my shoulder, so you don’t have to say it.” You mention looking away, before meeting his gaze. 

Was he… admiring you? You couldn’t tell for the few seconds he looked at you, before his expression changed as he moved towards you.

“It was my fault, on that case. I should have prepared you more so don’t worry about it. I’m just glad the dresser that hit you in the shoulder didn’t hurt you more.” He said, “That was quick moving, your getting out of the way before it squashed you.“ 

That was almost a compliment and an admittance of fault. What was going on with him? He motions for you to turn around and you do. As he moves your hair out of the way, a shiver runs down your spine, and goose bumps arise on your skin. 

You try to distract yourself at the feeling of his close proximity to you by cracking a joke, “Yeah well, now I can’t zip myself up, or get out of this stupid gown. Thank you Grandma and Grandpa for this choice of attire I truly adore feeling trapped.” 

He laughs a small almost silent laugh, as he grabs the zipper and slowly zips it up. It was agonizingly slow. You couldn’t tell if he was doing this to spite you, or because he was feeling the same weird feelings that you were. 

You shook off the second thought, it had to be to make you uncomfortable. You couldn’t have second thoughts on this no matter how warm it made your body feel. 

You swear you heard him take a shaky breath in before he finished and you turned to face him. You were really close to his face, and you could see the way his eyes looked almost puppy dog like. His eyes trailed your whole face for a few seconds before he took a small step back.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm, before you both descended the stairs, heading out to the car to take you to the infamous Saunders ball. You only hoped that your grandparents didn’t pull some bullshit like they usually did with you. 

You had no idea what was in store for you and your team, and that’s what was killing you. The not knowing.

Taglist:

@waitingforthesunrise @sleep-i-ness @rinisfruity14 @uku-lelevillain

[paintedhyenadogs]

Just because Im lowkey pissed that people don't understand the archive warnings on AO3 and get mad at the author because of their own lack of understanding:-

Here are what the archive warning tags mean and what each apply to:

No Archive Warnings Apply

This means the fic doesn't have any of the content that fit into the other warnings

Still tread with caution, especially if there are no other tags, as in 0. No relationship tags, no character tags, nothing, nada. It means the author might be really new or just was too lazy to use any tags or warnings. Know the risk or play it safe and don't read.

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

This means the fic might have none, some or all of the listed warnings. This is the warning. You might end up reading triggering material, or reading a fluffy sweet fic. It's a toss up, so if you aren't willing to take the risk, DO NOT READ.

If you've filtered out any of the other archive warnings and see this one, make sure you are ready to encounter something that might be triggering, that you've filtered or just avoid it. Even if the other tags don't indicate it, be wary and stay cautious, remember that this is still a warning.

Graphic Depictions of Violence

The content of the fic features graphic violence, as is stated. But if the creator chose not to tag what happens specifically that is violent, be ready for anything ranging from a bloody fist fight, to cannibalism to eroguro to violent torture.

Rape/Non Con

The fic will contain rape/noncon, which I've also seen include dubious consent/dubcon. It can be a major plot point in the story of the fic, or be smut. Read the additional tags to get a gauge of if it is one or the other. If there are no other tags, and you only want to read a story driven fic that may have rape/noncon, play it safe and don't read.

Underage

The fic has pedophillia and just like the rape/noncon warning, can be either a plot point or part of smut. Just like the above, if you do not want to read smut, play it safe and do not read if it has 0 additional tags. Honestly just filter it out all together, it's a good idea.

Some people also might use this tag when the fic involves sex between two underage characters (usually when the show is set in a high school), please keep this in mind if you aren't filtering the underage warning altogether. Also serves as a, "Always read additional tags!" note.

(Just in case someone gets on my ass and says "omg why would you say it also has smut under it ewww, are you a pedo?!" because I know someone will: I am simply saying that, the reality is, it's on the site. I don't wanna see that either, but it's there and I can't do a thing about it, just please be aware that you could be stumbling into a gross fic if you are not reading the tags properly.)

Major Character Death

A major character in the fic dies. This could be an OC, the reader, or a canon character.

If anyone feels I should revise and/or add these explanations, please tell me.

Additional words for newbies for ao3

AO3 is an archive site first, fanfiction hub second. It isn't for readers, it's for authors to archive their work and be able to label their work accordingly (or just not label it).

As a reader you should be respectful towards the authors and their work. You have no right to demand for a new chapter of a work you may like, you have no right to insult the author because of your own lack of knowledge or ignorance. Be grateful you're even getting any work from these people. Again, these people. These authors are real people like you and me, writing you fanfiction to read at no additional cost.

If you plan on posting on AO3, you should tag it, just so people can filter it, it's nice to be nice. I don't write on AO3 so I don't know what else to say on this part.

[jqmalikhsgib]

sea view

three

tigger warning: mention of suicide. please do not read if it will trigger you. i want you all to be aware and safe. this is just a filler chapter. just know if you’re ever struggling im here to listen! love each and everyone of you <3

harry would never understand how some men can’t comprehend how women’s bodies are the most magical and beautiful thing in the entire world. the masculine, macho men who think all women should do is cook and clean, it’s insane!

women give so much to men. they literally carry their babies for them for months, nearly an entire year before officially giving birth to them. it’s the most beautiful and selfless thing they could do.

harry’s grateful for his wife! you’ve given birth to three—maybe more in the future—of his babies. he couldn’t ask for a better woman to be by his side.

after giving birth to hayden, harry picked up the slack around the house. he made sure the kids got up for school, made them breakfast, cleaned around the house, even made sure you got as much rest as you needed!

you didn’t understand how lucky you’ve become with a husband like harry. sure, the two of you had shit in the past, but you worked it out and now you’re both doing so well. you’ve heard and read plenty of stories about someone else’s partner not being their for them or helping out when it came to their kids and household duties. you would never understand how one could treat their girlfriend, boyfriend, husband, or wife like that!

sure, harry wasn’t perfect. he’d done some pretty shitty things in his earlier career, but he’s never neglected your children. he’s always been an amazing father. you knew no matter what had happened to you and harry, if you would have gotten a divorce years ago, he’d be there for his babies. for that you loved him!

sure, he’s doing the bare minimum. but you give credit where it’s due because some men don’t do shit!

“hi, hayden! can’t believe you’re already two weeks old. you’re gonna be daddy’s best friend, huh?” harry coos at his son.

he couldn’t get enough of his son being in the world. he loved all his children so much! harry didn’t know what he’d do if he wasn’t a dad.

“daddy, we’re home!”

“who’s that, baby? is that your big brother and sister? yeah! they’re back from school. let’s go say hi, huh?”

harry heads downstairs. he spots his daughter heading for the cabinet for a small snack while his son sat at the table and started his homework.

“how was school, pay-pay?”

“it was so cool, daddy! misses lane made us draw our favorite things! i drew you on stage.” payton hands her father the drawing.

harry smiles happily. payton was definitely artistic. she could already draw really well for a seven year old.

“this is good, baby! im gonna hang it on the fridge.”

“where’s mamma, daddy?”

“she’s resting, baby. remember what i told you? mamma needs all the rest she can get. she just had your baby brother so she’s gonna be extra tired. did you need something from her?”

payton hums.

“maybe i can help?”

“well, all the kids at my school talk about having two grandmas. mama said grandma rose died when she was young. how’d she die, daddy? mamma never told me.”

harry eyes widened. he didn’t expect her to ask that. he honestly didn’t know if he should answer or wait for you to wake up and tell her. corbin looks at his father with a bit of a sad smile. he knew how difficult it was for you to talk about. it’s one of the reasons why corbin never asked either. he didn’t want to upset you.

payton was still young. she didn’t understand too much. she was getting older nonetheless, it made sense as to why she was curious.

“oh, baby. nana rose, she was an amazing woman to your mama. she just—she was really sick,”

“like the sniffles?”

harry shakes his head. “it was a different kind of sick. you know when you’re sad sometimes?”

“mhm!”

“well, nana rose was sad all the time. it made her really really sick and she—well the bad thoughts she had ended up killing her, baby.”

payton didn’t understand too much. corbin got it right away. he felt really bad for his mom. you were barely six years old when she apparently ended her life. he could only picture a six year old you crying in his grandfathers arms, confused to what happened to your mom. his heart broke for you. corbin wouldn’t know what to do if you ended your life. he’d probably blame himself for a long time. thinking he wasn’t a good son.

“does mamma have photos of grandma?”

“she does! im sure if you ask really really nice she’ll show you, yeah?”

payton hums before pulling out her own homework. harry walked back upstairs to put his son down. he sighs as he thinks about the conversation he’d just had with your seven year old.

“dad?”

harry turns around. he sees corbin give him a sad look.

“why didn’t mom tell me?”

harry grabs his son hand. “she likes to talk about the good memories she had with her mother. talking about how sick she was makes her sad.”

“what—what happened?”

“your nana loved her babies, don’t get confused! your mom talks about how much she adored her six beautiful kids, how she’d read to them at night, make their sandwiches into different kind of shapes, sing to them, dance with them, make them laugh. but she was broken inside. she was diagnosed with schizophrenia when she was thirteen. ever since she was in and out the hospital. when she was sixteen she met your grandpa. it was love at first sight! in a way, he helped her a lot, just by being there. her medication was working better, she opened up a lot more to her therapist, she laughed more. she was starting to become herself again. but when she had your uncle ryan, that’s when things turned bad again. she’d now been a mom of four and your grandfather, though a great man, worked pretty much all day and night. this led her to a dark path once more. by the time she had your mom, she’d been in and out of the hospital more times than you could count. she ended up having an accident, she hurt your mom. it was accidental, but this sent her over the edge. your grandmother thought it was best and safer for her and her family to end her life.”

“how’d she hurt mom?”

harry bites his bottom lip.

“you notice that scar on your moms back?”

“the big gash?”

“yeah, your grandma had an episode and cut her pretty deeply. your mom had to undergo surgery and everything. she lost a lot of blood but obviously she survived. it broke your grandmas heart.”

corbin heart breaks even more.

“can i—can i go and hug mom? i know she’s sleep, but—”

“sure kid! go!”

corbin nods before heading to your bedroom. he sees you sitting up with a book in your hand. he goes to hug you tightly.

you were surprised but hugged him back. “what was that for?”

“just love you, mom!”

you smile hugely.

“love you too, kid!

[yanderes-galore]

Romantic Gamzee Makara with human reader pls pls pls im begging... also dunno if it makes any difference in the hcs but the reader is also a mind aspect!

I think I'm going to focus on the human bit as idk if the aspect matters if that's fine? It may be easier but I briefly mentioned/implied you're in the Mind aspect. Either way, would love to write for Gamzee again.

With this concept I didn't make an AU, I tried to keep it close to canon.

Yandere! Gamzee Makara ♑️ with Human! Darling

(Mentioned at times you may be Mind Aspect)

Pairing: Matesprit ❤️

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Troll/Human pairing, Manipulation, Stalking, Delusional behavior, Mentioned mass murder/murder, Religious themes/worship yandere, Primarily sober Gamzee, PDA, Possessive behavior, Forced relationship, Forced affection, Blood mention, Sadism, Violence, Social isolation, Swearing.

I feel Gamzee would get along with a human faster than the other trolls.

For example, compared to his Moirail Karkat who dislikes the idea of flushed feelings with humans at first, Gamzee wouldn't mind it too much.

Humans may not understand quadrants all that well, but Gamzee's feelings in this concept are simple enough.

While Karkat is his Moirail, he wouldn't mind trying to make you his Matesprit.

That should be easy to understand, right?

Humans tend to have flushed feelings for each other, you'll figure it out he's sure of it.

Gamzee shouldn't be a yandere that's hard to deal with, when not sober.

When you speak with him or talk to him before he's sober he's actually really nice to be around.

Gamzee probably falls for you by watching your progress through the game and befriending you through the chat client.

He's somewhat invested in your life, enough to feel you mean something to him at least.

When he talks to you and gets to know you he's just so comforting and interested?

You don't have many issues when talking to him.

In fact, some of the other trolls have trouble tearing him away from the screen to speak with you.

It's great to know he's having fun trolling you... but there's other humans to talk to?

In terms of being a yandere it's not shown much when he talks to you.

He acts a bit delusional at times with you but nothing too bad.

You can usually overlook it.

By delusional behavior I mean he acts like the bond between you is closer than it actually is.

He also believes meeting you was fate due to his religion.

You often either get him asking if you're having trouble in your game session or him babbling about someday meeting you.

He's a bit... strange, but he becomes a presence you're used to through your session.

Honestly, by the time you meet Gamzee he may unfortunately be sober in this concept.

The moment you arrive on the meteor with Rose and Dave, you'll meet a Gamzee much different than the one you were speaking to in the chat client.

You were actually sort of excited to meet Gamzee when he talked about his friends and meeting you.

He admittedly hyped it up for you.

But the troll you meet isn't anything like the laid-back and helpful Gamzee you thought you knew.

No, when you meet Gamzee on the meteor, from what you heard he's crazy.

As a result you are no longer excited to meet him.

You choose to stick by Rose and Dave while on the meteor.

Karkat seems to be hesitant when he meets you but you manage to ask him what the hell happened.

According to Karkat, Gamzee was the cause of most of his friend's deaths.

Not only that but Karkat has developed a fear of being watched, especially when he's talking to you.

You ask why talking to you is such an issue...

You're told Gamzee has been obsessive about you ever since you started your session.

Even though you've reached your God-Tier, Gamzee can still be an issue.

He's strong, he's fast, he's insane in many ways.

Talking to Karkat only warns you that you may also be in danger.

Even in the Mind aspect, the stress may cause you to be indecisive and unsure what to do in the situation.

You still need to get used to the whole God-Tier thing like Rose and Dave.

Gamzee, surprisingly, is out of your sight for the most part.

When you roam the meteor he carefully stalks you like a predator.

He's so happy you've managed to make it this far... all with his past instructions.

Gamzee no doubt waits awhile to watch you before coming out of hiding and greeting you.

There's no need to be so scared... it's just him!

Gamzee thought you also wanted to meet him, no?

Damn, what has Karkat told you?

Did he paint him out as a monster?

His Moirail just doesn't understand that this is how things were meant to be....

Even in his more sadistic mindset, Gamzee still treat you as if you're close.

He looks at you with a smile and he's a bit too touchy.

You don't understand his intentions until he actually explains his idea.

You and him were meant to be Matesprits.

By now you'll know what this means.

It disturbs you greatly, especially with Gamzee giggling, singing the proposition in a giddy tone.

He tells you he's been waiting, he confesses he's loved you for awhile now.

You feel trapped when he closes in on you.

You look through your mind and try to find a decision, something to get you out of this.

Your mind draws a blank when Gamzee wraps himself around you.

The purple troll gleefully tells you about his murders, how he was so frustrated at the fact he didn't have you yet.

He tells you how he's felt so alone without you, how he's been wondering when he'll meet his Matesprit.

You fear to go against his wishes.

Sure, being a God-Tier means you may just come back if he kills you.

But Gamzee can't seem to die either?

You're forced to comply with his wishes once he closes in on you.

Gamzee is rough, too.

He kisses you roughly, probably is also the type to bite.

He doesn't care if others see his display of PDA.

What are they going to do if they see? Chastise him?

They've all seen what he's done, he could wipe them out rather quickly.

Plus, PDA just allows Gamzee to show that you're his.

He'd be possessive when sober and doesn't mind displaying the fact you're his Matesprit.

Regular Gamzee is a yandere for cuddles, sober Gamzee also falls into this category.

When Gamzee isn't busy he'll drag his Matesprit to a corner of the meteor and hold you tightly.

The corner is no doubt covered in blood but it doesn't affect the troll.

You, on the other hand, feel ill.

Gamzee is very unpredictable, which may be a reason you struggle picking an outcome with your aspect.

He seems to care deeply for you and Karkat despite his insanity, but he terrifies you.

He could brutally murder someone, be completely splattered in their blood, and run to you claiming it was all for you.

Speaking of which, Gamzee has potential to be a worship yandere.

He treats you like you're a divine gift and worships his Matesprit for that.

His Mirthful Messiahs, his Lord, has rewarded him.

As a result he praises you often and hates to leave your side.

He's frequently seen draped over you in some way, pressing his face into you and giggling like a deranged clown.

You make him happy, his human Matesprit.

Karkat may disapprove a little bit but he doesn't say anything.

If he shows any sort of dislike towards you, if he expresses dislike towards Gamzee's decisions, he could die.

Karkat doesn't HAVE God-Tier, he's only more terrified to be around you.

You can understand, right?

Anyone not a God-Tier has to deal with the equivalent of an angry guard dog threatening to tear their throat out when they talk to you.

As a result you prefer not to talk much to others.

It's hard to be yourself with Gamzee prowling somewhere close, waiting to strike.

Overall, Gamzee loves his human Matesprit no matter the aspect.

He doesn't care if others are scared to be around you or if you feel isolated... you only need him anyways...

You're HIS motherfuckin' Matesprit, HIS ONLY, is that clear?

[karvokr]

grief.

warnings: cursing, depressive and potentially suicidal thoughts briefly mentioned, could be triggering to some (im sorry ily:))

The left side of the bed was empty long before you woke up. The ghost of an indentation left in the mattress and the scent of what made him so… him left on the pillowcase. There wasn’t much you could do, using everything in your power to not smother you face in the left side, messing up the only scrap you had left of him. Is this what heart break is? It clawed desperately from the deepest parts of your body, coming out through mangled cries and sobs. You thought it had passed after the first week. The first three days were the hardest. Itching at the walls, tearing off paint and gripping onto the carpet fibers for any hope of grounding yourself to not entirely lose your mind. What’s happening to me? After five, it had started to dull. Its nails grew weak and brittle after clawing against your insides for so long that it was starting to lose its sting. By day eight, a numbness had washed over, etching a hole just big enough to fill it to the brim without overflowing. Where were the tears? Work had seemed to understand. They knew not much profit would come from a pathetic waste that couldn’t eat anything without aching for the life she’d yet to live. Can people survive this? I mean, really, what use is there to continue after someone molds and meshes themselves so deeply into yours that you can barely open your eyes without being reminded. The fan turning above you even reeked of him. Everything reeked. Everything had a rancid, pungent smell that burned your insides and worked its way up your esophagus. Surprisingly, there was enough fight left in you to make it to the toilet instead of hurling on the bedroom floor. He’d be upset if you ruined the carpet.

Day twelve brought its own challenges. You were fine, all things considered. It’d been some time since you’d shed a tear and whatever had been working its way up had settled deep in your body, its claw marks beginning to scab over. You thought it’d take longer. The guilt settled, bubbling under the surface. Why wasn’t it taking longer? Was he so forgettable that you could sweep him under the rug? Dust off the fan? Take a bowl out of the cabinet and suddenly be fine? Suddenly not have to be reminded of everything that could have been and never would be? What would he say? What would he feel? Where is he? Where the fuck is he? He promised you a long time ago you’d go before him. He knew the risks and the dangers and the threats. He knew what awaited every time he creeped away early in the morning, leaving you with your back turned and eyes closed. He couldn’t bear to see you miss him. It was worth it when he’d come home- he didn’t have to see you worry about where he was going, but he was able to see you grateful for his return. How could he do this? Day twenty brought anger. A boiling hatred for everything he did to you. How could he leave? So early in the morning… he knew you wouldn’t know he was gone. It made it worse- he had planned it. He made the conscious decision to leave without one final goodbye, even though he knew there was a chance he’d never get to see you again. He just fucking left? Were you so little to him?

Four months in and you think you’ve forgotten how to breathe. Since when has it been so hard to inhale. Breathe in… breathe out. He’s here. Is he? Are you that insane that you think he’s here? Standing in your doorway? He has a note. It doesn’t seem weighty, but you’re not sure either of you could talk if you even wanted to. Why?… Why? Why? Why? Why? When? With who? For what? It had to have been a good reason. Your walls still had the indents and scratches. Your fan still reeked. You hadn’t even washed the sheets. You’d slept on the couch for the past 13 weeks. You mourned. You cried. You sobbed and ached and hurt and vomited and… for what? For fucking what?! For him to stand here. For him to be so fucking cowardly to not even speak a syllable. For him to look so alive and well. For you to be right where he left you four months ago, destroyed and broken down.

He ached. He cried. He mourned. He hurt. And for what?

very quickly (and poorly) written. gojo was in mind for this (he’s been all over my social media), but as usual, it is very ambiguous, so picture whoever you’d like. inbox is open <3

[forbidd3n-w1re]

Letting the walls down - Billy Butcher x Reader

hey-ho! i've had this idea for a while and had to pour it out, enjoy! 

 originally this was supposed to be a butcher x reader but while writing it i put in a tiny bit of hughie x reader, i mean you can see it if you squint lol-

 summary : you and butcher have been somewhat okay friends for a while, and even though he doesn't want to acknowledge it, he cant push everyone away.

 warnings : so much angst (i feed off of it.) nightmares, beating up, billy actually being nice to someone(you lol), billy also attacking hughie, scars, panic attack, flashbacks, heavy alcohol use, passing out, venting, traumatic past, mention of shootings, "cunt"'s (tell me if i forgot something please!)

 if any of these trigger you, please dont read this fanfic!

commission : nope!

 word count : ≈2800 words

 genre : angst, hurt/comfort (someone's gotta do it, right?)

(im so sorry this is so long i went wild with this one)

 //////~~`×`~~//////

Butcher wasn't a talkative type when it comes to his past. In fact, he never let anyone come close enough to him to know him very well. In the team, he was just the leader, the one that organized the plan and the strategy, the one that went head-first into danger.

You? You we're the one that held the team like a magnet.

When Hughie first joined, Butcher looked like he'd screw his head off if he made one wrong step. Every single time Butcher offended him and told him he was a cunt, you'd fight back for him. You knew that Hughie had it in him, he knew how to be defensive, but at that time it was risky to talk back to Butcher due to the fact how much Billy hated him. It happened a lot. It was like you were Butcher's tranquilizer.

Hughie appreciated everytime you stood on his side, even after every glare Billy made to you. Billy knew the death glare would work on Hughie because he looked like he shat his pants, but you? You did not twitch at all. No shiver. Nothing. You couldn't even bother to look back at him.

Sooner or later, Butcher's "cunt"'s and "wimp"'s that were addressed to Hughie weren't that frequent anymore. Sure, Butcher without using the word cunt at least once in a day was nonexistent, but they weren't said to Hughie anymore.

Until one day they had a pretty big fight about the new member, Annie, AKA Starlight. Butcher, the no.1 Supe hater immediately started swearing at Hughie for bringing her to the hideout. After some time, Annie left, and then the shit hit the fan.

"Oi, kid. Who the fuck do you think you are, bringin' over here some random chick? Who is, apparently, a fuckin' Supe?" Butcher started yelling at the guy, pushing him around.

"Listen, I-I know it wasn't a good idea, but please, hear me out--"

Butcher grabbed Hughie by the collar, slamming him against a pillar hardly, and the smaller figure of Hughie's let out a loud grunt.

"Shut yer' fuckin' trap right the fuck now. Do yer' understand in what danger we could be if she had a mic?" Butcher held his collar more tightly now, looking at him like he might just chop off his head at that moment. "No, you don't, Hughie. You know why? 'Cause you're nothing but a trashy, shitty li'l cunt who had managed to grab a single bit of luck to join my little team. If you continue being a little pussy, I swear on my mother that i will-"

Sensing that the fight seriously escalated, and totally not because Hughie had started to breathe more shallowly because of how hardly his chest was pressed against the pillar, you stood off the couch, grabbed a foldable plastic chair and pushed Butcher as far away from Hughie as you could.

Butcher not detecting the sudden attack had a much more violent tone in his voice now. He wanted a fair fight.

"Oi, the fuck do you think you're doin', li'l shit?" Not bothering to deal with Butcher's bickering, you focused on helping Hughie not fall down as he heaped for gasps of air.

"Hey, Hughie, focus. Focus on your breathing, alright?" You got the comment from other members of the team that you and Billy actually had a lot in common, but the calmness of your voice was something Billy could never achieve probably. Hughie looked at you, his look revealing how many apologies he wanted to tell you for making this now your problem, but you only gave him a hopeful nod and a smile. "Go take a seat on the couch. I have an inhalator in one of my jackets if you need it, alright hun?" Hughie only let out a quiet agreement, following your orders.

Butcher, on the other hand, his eye twitched a little when hearing the nickname you gave Hughie. He knew that the nicknames you gave to the team were all in platonic meanings, but he still felt that little twinge in his heart when he knew the silly nicknames weren't for him.

You followed up now to Butcher, staring up at him. He reeked of alcohol, probably from last night, and cigarettes. He tried to hold up a pissed face to you, but you knew he couldn't do it. Everyone has their secrets, Butcher's was his past, and the fact that everytime you looked badass, he loved it.

"Stay the fuck away from him, or I will pluck out your little so-called "bollocks", one by one, painfully." There was your angry tone, along with a bit of mocking his british dialect. Others were right, you guys did have a lot in common. Billy only smirked at your threat. Billy pushed past you, grabbing his jacket, and stated something that made you chuckle. "Im going out for a drink, try to stay out of the little wimp's underwear while I'm gone."

Hughie and you were alone in the hideout now. Annie left, M.M. was in a visit to his daughter, and Frenchie and Kimiko went on a date.

Approaching the curly haired figure, you heard his small coughing fits. Surely Butcher didn't hurt him that badly, right?

"Hughie? Hun, you alright?" Putting your hand on his shoulder from behind, you jumped over next to him. Hughie brought his head up, only this time he wasn't startled.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Thank you for everything that you've done, really. Especially back there, not everyone has the guts to practically throw Butcher away with a chair." He gave you a small smile.

"No problem. Besides, he shouldn't act like that towards anyone. And Annie was really sweet too-"

Hughie stopped you, quickly apologizing, but immediately continuing.

"No, no, I understand him. I shouldn't have done that, besides he isn't a big fan of Supes, and Annie might've had a mic but I know she wouldn't. We can't be careful enough, if they find us we're practically doomed." Hughie was now on Butcher's side at this point.

"But, you know… He does have a weak spot for you." Hughie gave you a smirk, knowing that if you had water in your mouth you'd probably spit it out after hearing this.

"Pardon?" You looked at him with wide eyes, not believing a single word the curly haired boy just said.

"Back there, when you threatened him. I know that he has this façade of his where he pretends like he's the strongest man alive, but he gave you a smile upon hearing you. I think he even liked the fact that you weren't scared to stand up to him."

You got up from the couch, looking at Hughie with the biggest shock. "What the hell do you mean?"

Hughie just smirked, "You should go check up on him. See how he's doing. I think you're the only one of us that might get closer to him. Don't tell him I sent you there though, please." Nodding in agreement, you grabbed one of your oversized leather jackets and went to the door. Soon, Hughie stopped you.

"Oh, and Y/N? Thank you."

"No problem, hun." And you headed out to find your stupid ass loverboy.

//////~~`×`~~//////

Heading into the bar, you looked at the clock that was placed next to the cups. The clock showed half past 11, and your view fell onto the slouched, buff figure that was Billy. Walking up to him, you tapped flicked his head lightly as a sign for him to wake up.

"Oiiii, yer lil cuntttt…" He sounded wasted more than he ever was. He used to drink a lot on work, one time he even wanted to dance with M.M., but the 17 glasses of whisky gave you a very bad impression on how he felt right now.

"Hi to you too, cunt ass." You lightly shook him with a small curl of your lips on your face showing.

"The fock do ya want, kid? Can't you see a man tryin' to enjoy himself?" His british accent came out even more unclear when he was intoxicated, which would be funny if he wasn't laying down on the table, alone in the pub. "Go get me another round, be useful for once, N/N." That was a new one, you never heard anyone from the team use a nickname on you.

"Absolutely not. Butcher, c'mon, get up, we're leaving." You tried to give him a hand, but he wouldn't budge.

"Where the hell we goin'?" He groggily asked.

"Im driving you to my home since I don't know your adress.Now Butch, please, cooperate."

Agreeing for once, he put his arm around your shoulders and hung onto you as he struggled to walk.

Walking to your car, you felt like you were walking sideways the whole time, probably because he was much bigger than you. "Lean onto the car, Butch, okay? I have to get my keys, then I'll help you get in the car." You felt the need to give him instructions and steps for everything, because after seeing him passed out on that table circled with whiskey shots, you felt more safe if you did that. Listening to your idea, he leaned on, and you quickly unlocked the car and opened his door. "Alright, hun, let's get you in." Your arm sneaked around his torso, guiding him to sit down into the passenger seat. He smiled lightly at the nickname. Buckling him up, you closed the door lightly and went into your seat, turning on the car and driving away.

//////~~`×`~~//////

Driving around the city, you realized Butcher was quietly snoring. Probably the most peaceful you've ever seen him.

Parking into your backyard garrage, you got out of your car and went to Billy's side, unbuckling him. "Hey, hun, wake up." You lightly gave him a slap on his right cheek, figuring it was a better idea than pouring a bucket of ice on him. Unfortunately, he was not a light sleeper. Giving up, you put your arms around him once more and somehow getting him out of the car, making him lean onto the vehicle for a moment while you locked it.

Swinging your arm once again, you went into your house and layed him down on the couch. By now, it was way past midnight and you came to the conclusion that he wont be waking up until the morning. You went into your bedroom, taking off your work clothes and dressing up into your pj's. Grabbing your phone for a sec to text Hughie that Butcher is in an okay condition, unfortunately you were stopped by Butcher's grunts from the living room.

Getting up and sighing, you realized how much your eyes were close to closing themselves and going off to sleep, how much your arms felt like you had a fist fight with someone and how much your legs burned, including your back that was almost folded in half by Butcher's weight while you carried him. You were tired, but you needed to keep the team in top shape. After all, you were their magnet, which also meant that you should be there for everyone, even Butcher. Even Butcher, who behaved like a bag of shit towards everyone. Knocking on the door side, you stepped in the living room, the floors creaking.

"Butcher, is everything alright?"

Your eyes headed towards his sleeping figure, but he didn't look like he was enjoying his resting time as he kept shivering and thrashing in several points of the night. You got the blanket at the table next to you, slowly putting it over him. The blanket used to provide you heat, but also comfort and a safe space. Maybe it would also work for him. Hopefully.

You wanted to bet that if Frenchie and M.M. were in the room with you right now, they'd probably take a bunch of pictures to make fun of you both. Thankfully, they weren't here, and you thought that Butcher might sometimes lack of rest. Climbing onto the couch, you lightly rose his head up and sat down, putting his head onto your lap and ruffling his hair. He was taller, so you didn't get a lot of opportunities to ruffle his hair at all. You didn't even know you wanted to do that, but you did either way.

Although he was a heavy sleeper, apparently he realized what you were doing. Still woozy from the alcohol and driving around, he barely recognized the place he was in when he woke up, but what he did see was your face. Along with the blanket that you gave him. Snuggling a bit closer to you, he pulled the blanket up closer to you so that you don't feel left out and he mumbled something.

"Didn't hear you, love… Mind trying to repeat it?" You spoke, removing a bit of his hair from his forehead, feeling that he was sweating a bit.

"Hnnnnhhh….y'know 'm nun' like 'im…" His drowsy voice was back, and even though you loved how calm he sounded, you started to get a bit worried. You didn't know the real reason why he was so uptight with everyone, not letting his guard down.

"Like who, love?"

"My fatherrrr…" You don't know his past. You shouldn't jump to conclusions. You only knew that he didn't like his father because Hughie told you that once when you went out for a coffee.

You face was forming a very sad look, trying to keep yourself at bay and not let a few tears drop down to his head. You have to stay strong for everyone. For you. For him.

"No… No, Billy, you're not. You will never be like him. You're better, darling, you know that yourself already." Stay strong. Keep yourself at bay.

"Yeh…yeh…y'know, those scars on my back, the ones you saw during the fight in Russia when you treated my wounds…" His voice didn't sound confused by the alcohol anymore, rather just sad, guilty and ashamed.

"Yeah, what about them love?"

"He did that to me. With a belt. Like I was a fuckin' animal. I tried to save him, Y/N, I-I really did." He was sniffling. If you weren't having the table lamp turned on, you'd think he has a pollen allergy.

This is where your façade started breaking down.

"Who, hun? Who did you try to save?"

"Lenny, my brother. He…" Butcher stopped, looking like he's having an internal fight with himself whether he should continue, because he's showing his vunerable side now. "He shot himself. Because of me." Tears started sliding down his cheeks, silent ones that have shown how much he has been through. How much he has been keeping the truth in for himself. How long he kept it from the public, knowing that if he was left alone his whole life he'd probably rot. The tears showed how much he hated himself for his actions, for leaving his younger brother unprotected, for not standing up to his father more often (even though he tried his best), how much he missed Becca, how much he regretted for leaving Ryan with Homelander, how much he hates looking vunerable. You, though? You didn't question any of his actions. You simply brushed away his tears and gave him a peck in his hair.

"I'm so sorry, love. I'm sorry that happened. Some things just make us stronger, but you were a child back then, you didn't deserve any of this. You didn't deserve to be treated like trash from your father. You didn't deserve Homelander suddenly flying fuck knows where with Ryan. Darling,"

You started, wiping another tear and smiling at him softly. He loved seeing your smile, whether it was a feisty one or a caring one, a silly one or a tired one. It made him feel… loved. "I believe in you. You are literally the strongest person I know. Not a monster. Not a killing machine. Not nothing. You are a person, just like the rest of us."

He sat back up from his sleeping position, only to lay his head down onto your shoulder. You've never seen him this affectionate, nobody probably ever has besides Becca. She was a nice woman, you remember Butcher showing pictures of her sometimes, it's a shame she had to die like that.

"Hey, Y/N." He looked at you.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for being a kind cunt."

"Back with your cuntiness, i see…" you chuckled, and he only closed his eyes again, deciding to fall into the slumber of sleep once again.

"Love ya', Y/N."

You swore you felt heat rise to your cheeks, hell if your blood wasn't all the way into your brain like you were hanging off of something.

"…Love you too, Billy."

His beard tickled the everloving shit of you, but you didn't have the guts to wake him up again. Not while he's getting something he hasn't had for a while, rest. Before joining him in the nap, you swung your arm across his shoulders, pulling him in closer. He seemed to like the action, scooting a bit closer to you.

 //////~~`×`~~//////

AAAA i hope you liked the fic!! i usually dont write a lot, but since the fandom needs more x reader fanfics (esp angst because im so good at it, haha slay), i've came in clutch! B)

 till next time!!

[atom-writings]

Sleepy cuddling with Ivan :3c

(HWS Russia x Reader) Sleepy Affection!

(Gender Neutral) Scenario ~ A/N WAIT THIS IS A A THOUSAND WORD.S WHOOPS. UM. IM NORMAL ABOUT RUSSIA (LYING LYING) I HAVE NOT BEEN DREAMING ABOUT THIS FOR YEARS (LYING I AM A LIAR I AM LYING)

Trigger Warning: None, just Fluff!

Meteorologists had predicted a large snowfall. While you had told Ivan that you would leave before it got too bad, that plan ended up dead in the water. Or more accurately, dead in the snow. Before you knew it, the ground nearly rose to your knees. That’s fine, right? It’s really no problem, staying with your boyfriend. That was… until the power went out… along with the heat.

He tugged on your shirt lightly, rubbing the collar between two of his fingers. In the background, the fire crackled quietly. The scent of a warm fireplace nearly drowned out your boyfriend’s faded cologne. He always smelled faintly of roses, something close to what you’d find in your grandmother’s home.

Months earlier, you recalled him mentioning that he had lived in this home for centuries. Which, to be fair you could’ve guessed. Normally it would be nothing more than an annoyance, how it creaked and groaned keeping you up at night. But now, its ancient architecture meant you two had nothing to worry about. The fireplace meant you two could make it through the night in comfort.

So there you two lay. A short distance away from the fireplace cuddled up on an old mattress he had dragged downstairs. On top of you lay layers of quilts and ratty old blankets, all of which smelled of must and people you’d never meet. 

“Крошка? Are you still awake?” His voice startled you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah…”

“Why?” He readjusted himself, sitting up and facing you.

“W-Why? This isn’t the ideal situation to sleep in, Vanya.” You replied, looking up at him in confusion. He paused for a minute, lost in thought, before reaching out and holding your shoulder tightly.

“I understand. We just have to get through one night. I am sure your hotel will have the power back by then, and you will be alright.” 

He laid back down, “Will you let me warm you?” 

A light pink rose to your cheeks, and you rolled to look away from him. Sure, you had been plenty affectionate with each other before, but nothing like this, “If you’re fine doing so… aren’t you cold too?”

“Of course. But I have been cold many times before,” Ivan responds as he presses himself against your back, “Besides, I cannot help but be slightly delighted by this arrangement.”

“You’re happy about this?” Your tone rises.

“As I said, only slightly. It reminds me of many nights I have had before.” He wraps his arms tightly around your waist, drawing you closer. You can feel his hot breath on the back of your neck, along with his eyes resting intently on you.

“I would have thought that an immortal would try to ignore any memories. Don’t they just make you sad?”

“Sometimes, yes. The world has changed very much. But I try to not let that bother me. It is all about looking on the bright side. Years ago, I could not have been seen with you. But now…” Ivan leans forward, laying his head in the crook of your neck. “We can be here… together.”

Smiling to yourself at his sudden affection, you begin tracing light patterns on his arms. Quickly, you hear him sigh, muffled by your neck.

“Be the romantic all you want, I still want our power back at least.” You joke.

“Really? I do not mind.” 

“Psh, of course, you don’t. But I’m a little used to the comforts of modern life.” He returns your playful tone with a smile.

“I enjoy this. It reminds me of nights spent with my old family. We would have to sleep like this often in the winter as well.” Although he smiles, you can hear his tone drop.

Although you had been dating for almost a year now, he rarely talked about his family. You had gathered that he had sisters… at least one… and maybe a brother at some point. There were pictures of this home, filled with people, placed everywhere throughout the home. Yet, they never seemed to be the same people. And anytime you would become curious as to why he would brush your questions off.

“Your family?”

“We never had much money. I was lucky to receive this home from the Tsar many centuries ago. It protected us well.” He lets go momentarily, just to grasp for your hand as his voice falters. 

You wiggle out of his hold, turning around to face him. His eyes soft, lost in memory, suddenly transfixed on you as you grabbed his hand. He leaned into your touch as you caressed his cheek and squeezed his hand tightly.

“It’s nice to know you have happy memories with them. Whenever you mention them usually, you seem so sad. I can’t stand to see you like that.”

Ivan closes his eyes, relaxing his tense face. “Those are not happy memories. It makes me sad to think about those why we had to huddle in those winter nights.”

“Then why did you bring it up?” Your face turns to concern as you begin running your hands through his soft, silvery hair.

“Because I am not sad right now. Regardless of how it reminds me of my old family.”

“H- Why? I know I would be upset if I were you right now.”

He opens his eyes, staring intently into your own, “Because I have done this with my old family,” he smiles lovingly, “and now I have done it with you.” 

As you look up at him in confusion, he simply draws his quilts tighter to the two of you. Grinning, he continues, “I did not think I would ever do this again. It means that even in this world I do not always recognize, I will still find my new family.”

Bringing your hand, still tightly holding onto his own, up to his face, he kisses your knuckles lightly, “You will be my new family. We are together here, like I was once with my family, and that is all that matters, любимый.”

Despite the intense emotionality of what he just declared, his face betrayed nothing but peace. “V-Vanya…” you pause, “I love you.”

“I love you too. While you sleep, I will make sure you are safe.” He put one hand behind your head, pulling you forward to kiss your forehead.

“Thank you, my love.” You say before closing your eyes, leaning back into his chest.

“Сладких снов,” he whispers, before falling asleep to the crackling fire himself. With you safe in his arms, everything felt just as he had wished it to be for centuries.

[theninth09]

Oh Liam totally has PTSD 100% especially after season six, we even see more of it in the zoo when Liam literally sees Brett hurting him, and while we can argue that’s guilt I don’t actually believe that hasn’t happened before.

I think the fans and writers sometimes (not necessarily on purpose) excuse Liam’s mental instability and self-loathing/harm with stage fact he’s a werewolf, “oh, he literally just cut into his own palms so that they’re pouring blood… it’s fine he’s a werewolf he’ll heal”

There is nothing more beautiful to me than Theo and Liam seeing each other and understanding the other despite everyone else’s hesitation towards the two. Both no what it’s like to be feared and both are the exception to each other.

yup! tw isnt really the show for this, i guess, bc theres so much trauma they put the characters through and then just.. kinda forget about that? theres a lot of untouched potential with the storylines they start, for sure. and they love to play liams character off as the comedic relief, which i Hate. that scene in s5 where liam tells scott to punch him so he'll get angry??? haha funny and werewolf logic and whatever but how fucked up is that? liam offering himself as a punching bag, probably thinking hes useless if it wasnt for his anger? and this is in s5b so he feels horribly guilty about having tried to kill scott. sure, he needs to get angry so he'll get strong in that situation, but he 100% thought he deserved getting punched by scott.

and the zoo scene, oh boy. i personally do not think that that was just liam hallucinating something that never happened/that he was only projecting his guilt or whatever. that episode is named "triggers". theo, word for word, says: "something around here is triggering you." why would they focus that much on something TRIGGERING liam when its not something that actually happened to him. idk about you, but that makes zero sense to me. and its not like its out of line for bretts character to have done something like that. (personally hate when people erase this part of bretts character because it automatically takes away from liams character. like sorry that this random guy that you like for reasons unbeknownst to me is an asshole, at least own up to it and dont pretend he isnt as big of a dick as he canonically is.)

(^ i say, with theo as one of my favorite characters. im aware that hes an asshole. i do not care. im not pretending that he isnt.)

the brief focus on the warning sign about "dangerous animals" above the cage (reminder that this happened before liam was a werewolf) and liam begging scott, saying "they can't see me like this" and scott finishing "like a monster?" during his first full moon. yeah. liam has thought of himself as a monster long before he got bitten. that boy has serious self-worth issues and a bunch of trauma.

theo and liam helping each other through their trauma, recognizing the other's pain and seeing themselves in each other is so important to me. an aspect i love to focus on.

[papakhan]

Lol why would someone even say that. Like... idk im transmasc im personally mortified of the idea of getting pregnant but... its none of my business if another man wants to be pregnant why would there be any judgement there 😭😭😭 plus the post was very funny people need to stop projecting over a sillay little post. Have a good night king the haters dont get it

the thing is I totally understand trans guys being uncomfortable with the concept of (trans) men getting pregnant. In our society its a very gendered concept, it gets fetishised by weirdos online all the time and to a lot of (especially queer) afab people its strongly associated with control and abuse. I totally get it. That was me not so long ago but after a lot of research I became more comfortable with it because I want to have children one day. I shouldn't have to expose this part of myself as a defence against people calling me transphobic when I am literally trans and half the fight for trans people is "my body my choice"

what gets me is that the tumblr fallout community gets in this fucking argument allll the fucking time over whether the fallout universe should be "dark and gritty and ~realistic~" in regards to Everyone being transphobic Or if the wasteland should be some kind of trans haven without the binds of society. I personally lean on the latter and get a lot of comfort out of the idea that the Great Khans specifically are a bastion of trans joy and experience and to them women having dicks and men giving birth is just. normal.

the end goal for trans people should be to de-gender concepts like pregnancy and penis but we're never gonna fucking get anywhere if trans people project their dysphoria onto each other and start self-flagellating themselves whenever someone steps out of line or makes a stupid joke.

And yeah this is an overreaction to someone critising a stupid post of mine but I'm more mad at the wider culture of the fallout community (and tumblr) regarding this topic because like I said shit like this keeps happening. part of my job is about educating people about trans bodies and saying shit like "don't assume who can and can't get pregnant" and trying to help fellow trans people find comfort in a country that's actively trying to get them all murdered. To then log onto tumblr dot com and get called transphobic because I said I love headcanoning Papa as trans and him being able to deflect the Legion's misogyny because of his transness is like a slap to the face. you guys are meant to be the transgender love website what the fuck are you talking about?? Also Saying that I'm enabling transphobia by allowing people who arent trans men to reblog my post is also stupid and for the record most people in my notes right now are either trans people who are genuinely agreeing that Papa is trans or ghost fans who think I'm talking about their band (but are still trans and still agreeing).

sure maybe I should have put a trigger warning on the post or something because it might trigger someone's dyphoria, but just say that. Don't act like I'm the problem and that I'm too stupid to recognise internalised transphobia and calling me "too comfortable with joking about trans bodies" when 1. I wasn't joking About trans bodies and 2. ITS MY FUCKING BODY

My joke was about how Caesar cant handle Papa being trans. it was a joke about how society cant handle trans people who they can't clock. it was also a joke about how Papa comes from a society where transness is so normalised that he wrongfully assumes that its something everyone can do. At no point was I "nasty about trans bodies" like this person claims I was. In fact I think that pretending that I was says more about how they view trans bodies than it does about how I do, That I can mention trans pregnancy and they automatically assume I'm fetishing or being disrespectful.

anyway. that's a lot of shit. thanks for letting me ramble and tucking me into bed so sweetly <3

[fictionfixations]

LMAO ZEN (doesnt it happen for everyones routes though? i havent done like another story yet tho)

anyway before i get into talking about jumin (as the route im on rn) i wanted to wonder

yknow how certain things happen but only on someones route?

like zen has the echo girl thing, idk what yoosung has i forgor but i think jaehee had that one project??? that got her interested in like coffee stuff? jumin has the arranged marriage?? and seven has like. well. the hacker stuff.

but it never gets mentioned on someone elses route ? i dont think? i feel like itd be more cooler if it was all happening at once as like little references (but either something they can handle or cant handle outside of the route. just like maybe a vague mention of trouble to interest the player in that route, while still making sense from like a timeline standpoint???)

like. people doing things but its not because youre the one pushing it towards that. i like that more. and im curious how chaotic itd be

anyway

JUMIN. (disclaimer: I dont like him)

WARNING i start venting in this post. theres only one mention of a triggering thing (which is warned before the actual vent part but i dont want to put here to bring the mood down more cause in all honesty im over it. im just kind of projecting.)

i think ive said before how i can understand the liking of possessive partners

but. okay maybe its just that i dont like jumin as much as the others but. this is kinda way too much. or maybe its that i value my own independence a whole lot or maybe its because i really dont like the thing with his cat (and i LIKE cats. so giving me a character who likes cats and making me not like them??? ahgeiudhf)

like 'dont leave or ill go insane and make your face known everywhere so i can find you again' like the fuck no w h y CAN I LEAVE

I want to leave i dont care if i get the bad ending get me out of here 😭 (actually i think the bad ending mightve been if we encouraged being compared to like his cat and like. was willing to stay forever.)

e w NO like CHILL

maybe. im. being too extreme. and im just too on edge. but like. can you not. i am not your property?? i am not an object??

now LISTEN i understand marking. like like yknow biting and so and so as like a claim over your partner. and now that? thats hot and i like that. but thats ONLY for the bedroom there comes a point where too much of a thing is a bad thing

ALSO we've known each other how many days has it been. eight?? WE've known each other EIGHT days dont be horny bonk

g o o d . this is good.

STOP. dont talk like you know whats best for a person. like its some thing that'll happen, not a what if.

AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. now if he was being more weird id say go home but hes. OKAY. ish. now. like hes trying. and anyway getting him to not do it takes time. and also this is a game of romance fantasies where creepy shit gets played off as kinky or something. (not a jab towards mysme its just the kind of thing its trying to do which can result in uncomfortable parts if you take off your rose-tinted glasses of wOAH ROmANCE. its expected since ppl think certain things are hot when in reality its kind of very not that great)

…CAN I GO HOME???? like BRUH im not gonna accept you just cause you do so and so

why does this feel like a 'nice guy'. maybe this is my bad because this is making me really want to leave buth gdiuhfuih

trigger warning. i vent. mention of kermit sewer slide but nothing actual.

ive been pushing the 'stay here to help jumin feel more calm' but. i do also need to prioritize my own well being and my well being is not happy here rn 😭 (on a serious note though while its important to be there for your partner, its NOT a good thing to give everything to make sure your partners okay, because y'all are equals and as you help them stand they need to help you stand too or you'll collapse under all that and it really wont be a good time. im telling you its very draining. and why i promote the idea of get your shit together before you get with someone because there comes a point where you can be too dependent on your partner which isnt good for you or for them [and they can feel hesitant to express their feelings because they dont want to hurt you, or hesitant to do anything too stressful because theyre like that support pillar for them, and they dont want to do anything that causes otherwise because they dont want their partner to get hurt. it can also mean they go along with what the other wants even if they dont really want to because they dont want to hurt them. am i projecting? ithink im projecting. cause like. ive been there. and honestly i think it kind of fucked me up cause there was like a power imbalance in that one was significantly more fragile and vulnerable then the other, which made me feel like i should be going along with it because i didnt want them to be hurt when they didnt have anyone else they could rely on but me. [i tried to get them to make more friends cause relying on a single person is very unhealthy but no dice] but that also meant that they didnt respect my boundaries or respect me when i say no and instead just gave off excuses to make me change my mind or made me feel like i had to do what they wanted or theyd deliberately hurt themself. so.. it was a lot. anyway it really fucked me up cause i felt like i was in the wrong for not going along with it. blah blah blah. we split. i genuinely have no idea if it was true or not but they'd started saying things to make me feel bad and just not a fun time at all. they were probably in a really dark time in their life but im gonna be honest. i dont know in what scenario its okay to go 'im gonna kermit sewer slide if you dont [blah blah blah]'. so yknow. and this is not really the same but it still feels the same in walking all over boundaries and lines and is especially why i do not like this character a bit. yay trauma.])

i might actually get a bad ending because i. really dont like this.