#it’s so subtle that you have to wonder if it was done on purpose or if you’re just gay

[tessalation]

Losing my mind over the casual pride flags in the new season of the dragon prince

[lustfulslxt]

Succumb - Matt Sturniolo

summary : after teasing matt all day, he finally gives in to the temptation during movie night.

warnings : swearing, friends to lovers, fingering, no actual p in v, idk what else

a/n : hiyaaa:) i’m lacking in writing but here’s this, just a quick lil sum. it was requested last year, so sorry 4 the wait!! enjoy x

—

Matt’s been trying his absolute hardest to keep a boundary between the two of you, but with the way you seemingly purposely tease him, he’s practically crawling out of his skin. You’ve been going at him all day, and he’s barely holding back.

Every time you talk, you sport a flirty smile and flutter your eyelashes at him. You look so innocent and pure, but he knows that’s far from the truth. The words you speak have him questioning your entire friendship, whether or not there’s something more there.

“Mm, this tastes so good.” You hum, sucking on the tip of the popsicle.

Matt watched you intently, taking in the way you wrap your lips around it. His already stiff cock throbs beneath his pants, just imagining himself in your mouth instead. You’re driving him absolutely mad and he doesn’t know how much more he can take.

“You know what would taste even better?” You question, licking the juice off of your lips.

Matt hums in response.

“You.”

His eyes widen as his head snaps towards you. You’ve got that innocent little grin on your face with your big doe eyes gleaming at him, and he finds himself imagining your face covered in his cum, the thought only intensifying his erection.

He’s at a loss for words, his mind flooded with erotic thoughts as his heart practically beats out of his chest. He can feel his cheeks burn as you stare at him, his mouth opening and closing.

“You guys coming or what?” Chris shouts from the living room.

That seems to snap Matt out of the little trance you put him in as he clears his throat, shaking his head with a small smile. “You’re insane.”

You watch as he heads into the living room, biting your lip to keep grin from growing. You know he’s been struggling with the constant teasing you’ve done all day, you’re just waiting for him to crack. You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger and you love it.

You toss the colored stick from your popsicle into the trash before following him. Nick and Chris occupy one couch, leaving the other for you and Matt, who’s already sprawled out along the whole sofa. You shrug and climb between his legs, leaning your back against his chest. His arms instinctively wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as you settle in.

“Fucking finally.” Nick complains, more than ready to start the movie.

You only let out a small chuckle at his words, pulling a blanket over yourself and Matt. The four of you turn your attention to the tv, ready to be submerged in the horror film.

Some time into the movie, your hands are running up and down matt’s thighs. You don’t put much thought into it, but it’s all Matt can think about. It’s all he can focus on. He starts to wonder if you can feel his stiffy against your back, which you clocked the moment you sat down.

Matt slips his hands under your shirt, slowly caressing your soft skin. You sigh in contentment, enjoying the feeling. He softly grips your curves, gently massaging them, causing you to scoot impossibly closer to him.

This goes on for a minute, until he finally gives in, and his hands start to trail higher and higher. Your breath catches in your throat as you anticipate his moves. Suddenly, his hands are gripping your tits, squeezing them tight, pulling a subtle moan from you. You quickly clear your throat in an effort to hide it. Luckily, Matt’s the only one who heard you.

As he continues to grope your boobs, he leans down with his face in your neck. You can feel his breath on your skin, the warmth he’s emitting flowing through your whole body. His lips softly graze your ear, causing you to shudder.

“You’ve been such a bad girl today.” He whispers, his voice low and husky.

Your thighs clamp shut at his words and the sound of his voice. He notices and you can feel him smirk against you. He brings his face back into the crook of your neck, his lips peppering soft open mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

You lean your head in the opposite direction, allowing him better access. As his lips dance over you, leaving wet trails of saliva, you can’t help your erratic breathing. You can feel your arousal pooling between your legs from his touch.

Matt’s hands slowly graze lower and lower, his fingertips brushing your skin, leaving goosebumps behind. His hands grip your thighs, parting them with ease, and using his legs to keep them separated.

Your mind is hazy, lust clouding your judgement, fully ready for what’s to come. His fingers trace the waistband of your pants before slipping underneath it. You feel soft pressure against your clothed mound as he lightly touches you. His fingers are barely there and you ache for more, subtly inching your hips upwards.

“S’not so fun being teased, is it?” He breathes in your ear, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

You furiously shake your head, desperate for something, anything more. He quietly chuckles, pressing harder against you. He starts rubbing you through the cotton, the fabric quickly becoming soaked by your arousal. He hums in delight at the feeling of your slick seeping through to his fingers. Pulling his hand back, he stops at the top of your panties.

“Can you be a good girl f’me?” He wonders.

You lick your lips as you nod, eager for him to touch you. “Mhm.”

“Nice and quiet, yeah?” He pesters as his hand finally dips into your underwear.

You gasp the second his fingers graze your clit, causing him to tsk. His long, slender fingers slide up and down your slit, becoming saturated by your juices. He softly presses against your bundle of nerves and begins rubbing it in slow circles.

You bite your lip to keep from making noise, your hands gripping his pants. His cock grows against your back, causing you to wiggle against it. He deeply inhales, speeding up the circles on your clit.

You toss your back against his chest, eyes closed in satisfaction. You gnaw down on your bottom lip, struggling to contain your sounds of pleasure. Matt takes his opposite hand down, his middle finger prodding at your entrance. The second he shoves it into you, your mouth falls open and a low moan drops from it.

He quickly removes the hand playing with your clit and shoves his wet fingers in your mouth to silence you. Your lips wrap around his digits, your sweet essence gracing your tongue.

Matt inserts another finger into your weeping hole, quickly pumping in and out of you. You’re practically chewing on the fingers he has in your mouth as your legs tremble.

“Keep quiet or m’gonna take you to my room and fuck you until you lose your voice.” He mumbles in your ear.

His dirty words light a fire in your stomach, and you’re left contemplating your next decision. Part of you actually wants him to do that, but another part of you doesn’t want Nick and Chris to find out what’s happening under the blankets.

Matt curls his fingers in your pussy, a faint squelching sound emitting from below the covers. Your legs quiver as your spongy walls tighten around him. He uses his thumb to rub your sensitive bud once again, adding to the already overwhelming pleasure.

Your lips part from around his fingers, heavy breaths and whines escaping. He’s quick to place his entire hand over your mouth, his eyes flickering over to his oblivious brothers.

“Thought you were gonna be quiet, hm?” He taunts in your ear.

Your hands grasp his wrist, pulling his hand from your mouth, “Feels so good.”

“Shh, I know.” He coos, digging deeper into you as his hand goes back to covering your lips. “But this s’what you wanted, right?”

You feverishly nod your head, your stomach tightening as he continues fucking you with his fingers. He groans in pleasure at how wet you are for him, being the perfect lubricant for his fingers to easily glide in and out.

He slightly ruts into you from behind, biting his lip at the stimulation on his cock. Your hands squeeze his wrist tightly, fingernails digging into his skin. He feels you tighten around him once again, your walls pulsating around his digits.

The knot in your stomach builds and builds until it snaps, your hands frantically pressing over Matt’s to better contain your inevitable moans as your orgasm washes over you. Your hips subconsciously grind against his hand to ride your high out, your juices drenching him.

“Oh my god.” He groans in your ear, the sight of you convulsing on him enough to bring him over the edge.

His cock twitches in his pants, his warm cum bleeding through his boxers. He squeezes his eyes shut, slightly shuddering at the feeling of the fabric rubbing against his sensitive tip.

Matt pulls his hand away from you, bringing his glistening fingers into his mouth. The moment the taste of you melts on his tongue, he feels his dick hardening again.

You take notice, turning your head back with wide eyes. You open your mouth to say something, only for him to grab your face and pull your lips to his in a wet kiss. Your tongue glides over his before he pulls you back.

“My room. Now.”

—

a/n : not proofread. pretty short and not much plot. but yk whatever it’s okay. sorry if this was mid, still tryna get back in the hang of it :)

taglist : @luv4kozume @worldlxvlys @flowerxbunnie @sturniolowhore @creamoncreamoncream2 @lvrsparadise @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @tillies33ssss @chrissfavwh3re @its-jennarose @sophssturn @defnotayonna @ksskianshd @d0wnbad4chris @braindead4l @avasturn @knowingnothingnoel @luverboychris @remussbitch @stunza @rootbeerworshiper @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @strnlsblog @keira324 @domaniquessidehoe @mattslolita @junnniiieee07 @pepsienthusiasts @gamermattsgf @cupidsword @iloveneilperry @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @luul223 @matt444nixi @sturniololol @evieolo @dlyansworld

[venusgirltarot]

Your Idea of Them vs. What They’re Really Like

☆ ミ book a reading with me ☆彡

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

Pile 1 — [♡];

The energy here isn’t what I was expecting, Pile One. I think it’s something you really need to hear, though. I think you know what this person is really like and I think that’s why you’ve decided to walk away from them. For some of you, you’ve already done this and for others I think you’re still thinking about it. For those of you that have, you may be thinking about going back or maybe there’s just a small part of you that wonders if you made the right decision but please trust yourself and know that you did. If you have fully made the decision to walk away yet, know that it’s the right decision.

You may have been in a long term relationship with this person and are just now seeing a different side to this person. I keep hearing 3 or 4 years? They may have just started acting easily irritable, careless, not as loving as they once were. You no longer felt safe, loved, and appreciated with this person. Maybe something happened in their life or something with their family caused some sort of change or shift within them? I’m not completely sure.

If you no longer feel happy or safe in a connection then please don’t stick around in hopes of change. Accept nothing less than what you deserve and let go of what is no longer serving you. Some of you may have children with this person or maybe you have children of your own or something. Only take that if it resonates. Those of you who have not left yet may be nervous about the outcome of leaving or wondering if it’s the right decision, please trust what your intuition is telling you and walk away if that is what your intuition is saying. You will flourish outside of this connection and things will get so much better for you. Its going to be okay. You have far more strength and independence within you than you realize and you are capable of far more than you think you are.

I hope you’re doing well, Pile One and if no one else has told you today, please know that I am proud of you. ❤️

Pile 2 — [♡];

Pile Two, I don’t think your person really expected you. I’m having a hard time finding how you view them because I feel their energy so strongly. They hold a space for you but I think they try to avoid or deny that space if that makes sense. I’m having a hard time explaining it. Their feelings/emotions are so conflicting. It’s like there’s potential for them to fall deeply in love with you but they’re fighting it so hard. I’m not sure why though because they know you wouldn’t hurt them. They have such a soft spot for you.

They may have had an idea of what their life was supposed to look like and what their next step was but you came along and kind of changed things for them and they don’t know if they want that. I heard “if only I had a little more time” they may have wanted to be at a different place in their life when you came along and they worry this will become a “right person wrong time” sort of situation. They may also cuss a lot because I’m hearing lots of that. “I need to get my shit together” and “I fucked up in a bad way”. There was a point in the reading where I was crying because I was so emotional.

You don’t really need this person and maybe that’s what scares them. You have options and may come off as very independent and confident in yourself. I heard “this could hurt me more than it could hurt you” they seem to think they have more at risk here for some reason. You have a parental/motherly energy that they love about you. You’re empathetic and caring. You care for them but maybe more in a subtle way. You’re not overbearing in the way you check up on them. You may be sort of sassy/quick witted and they really like that, as well. I wonder if they don’t fantasize about long term commitment and children with you. Very rarely or maybe even just once but it may have crossed their mind. They’re afraid to let themselves open up or get close to you because they know the way you’d treat them and care for them when you really got to know the real them would make them fall deeply in love with you and they don’t want that. They’re fighting their feels very hard, Pile Two.

I hope that this person gets it together and opens up to you, Pile Two but I can’t promise that they will. Don’t wait around if you don’t feel that’s what you want to do. I can’t give you a timeline or promise that this person will come forward so you will really have to follow your own intuition here. I truly hope it works out in your favor, Pile Two.

Pile 3 — [♡];

I think there’s a more serious side of this person that they don’t want you to see. To you, they like to come off as well established and sure of themselves. They carry a lot of weight on their shoulders and could become easily stressed with work related stuff. They may be some sort of boss of CEO. For some of you, this may be someone that’s very successful and financially well off.

You help them a lot with this stress without realizing it. You’re like a safe haven to them. You don’t see them as a boss or someone with all the answers and you’re not dependent on them in any way. They can just enjoy their time with you and you have no expectations of them. They really appreciate you and your energy.

This feels like a newer connection. You’re still getting to know each other but could be starting to see each other more seriously and wanting to groin and establish something more serious with one another. I think they’ll share all of this with you when the time is right because they do want more with you and see you as someone they want to be with long term.

Your person has a very mature energy. They could be older than you. They’re very intelligent and well establish but they may be a little too hard in themselves quite often.

[ourshadowsmeanomens]

THE MEANING OF THE END OF GOOD OMENS SEASON 2 (SPOILERS UNDER CUT)

I binge-watched this entire new season and immediately unleashed every thought I had about the ending of the show alongside MANY others who were experiencing a lot of feelings. After we all calmed down, we started talking and analyzing- and I think we found something way bigger than we saw on screen at the end of this season. And what this might mean for Aziraphale and Crowley going forward into (FINGERS CROSSED) a wonderful 3rd season.

The biggest complaint many of us in our chat had about the choice Aziraphale made at the very end- to ascend to Heaven, leave behind Crowley and the bookshop, to take Gabriel's place. Everyone is saying that it's out of character, there was so much build up all for Aziraphale to throw it away, etc. But the theory- a miracled brainwash. By Metatron, on Aziraphale. Metatron has proven to be a very dismissive and rude character, especially in regards to Aziraphale, since we met him in season 1. During the literal end of the world he still only spoke as God's voice and never appeared in person. Suddenly, Metatron comes down- IN PERSON- to talk with Aziraphale about a promotion. Before we know who he is exactly, we see him buying a coffee and giving it to Aziraphale- KEEP NOTE OF THIS. When Metatron first talks to Aziraphale, Azi says something to the effect that he has "made his position quite clear." The Metatron insists, pointing out the coffee and insists they talk.

HERE'S THE IMPORTANT PART: Metatron says "are you going to take it?" and RIGHT BEFORE Aziraphale says "shall I?" you hear the FAINTEST GLIMMER of the sound effect for miracles. I'll be honest I had to turn my sound up and lean in once someone pointed it out, but it's there and you HAVE to listen for it. They both go for a walk.

Crowley clearly believes Metatron is up to something, and watches them leave and walk but doesn't follow- this isn't addressed again. Then Crowley, Nina, and Maggie have their talk, and this is the part where Crowley is meant to confront his feelings. We switch back to Aziraphale with Metatron. Clearly Metatron and Aziraphale have talked about a deal and Metatron asks him to "think it over." Aziraphale has presumed to finish his coffee at this point, because he heads directly back to the bookshop to talk to Crowley. They fight, they kiss, they give each other up because Aziraphale decides to go to Heaven and leave everything behind. Like I said earlier, this is the part that enraged a lot of people- why would Aziraphale do this? This is so out of character. Why would he leave Crowley behind? Why would he leave his BOOKSHOP behind?

The current persistent theory is this:

Metatron has proven to be dismissive and untrustworthy since we met him. It is odd that he suddenly shows a change of heart for Aziraphale and wants to promote him. We, as the audience and fans, know Aziraphale's desire to live a simple, humanlike life with the person he cares about the most (Crowley) with his most prized possession (the bookshop).

The subtle miracle sound effect when Aziraphale took the coffee was the moment the miracle took place, affecting the coffee to brainwash (or at least to make more easily persuaded) Aziraphale so he'd say yes to the offer Metatron was giving him.

Aside from this, they editors/director/writers purposely wrote in and left the entire part about Metatron getting coffee for Aziraphale (as what? Some sort of peace offering?). The entire ending could have done without bringing so much attention to the coffee that Metatron gave to Aziraphale. It was unnecessary.

Unless it wasn't, and we are meant to find that out in season 3. The coffee is Chekhov's gun. In filmmaking, nothing is ever just a coincidence or an accident. They made a point to give us the miracle sound effect without showing any visible changes, made Aziraphale act wildly out of character, and framed it as though it is not, let's say, an institutional issue that is being covered up 👀👀

And let's not ignore that the episode 6 description specifically says "The Metatron brings an oatmilk latte, along with a final offer." Which would be an odd thing point out if the coffee was a mere prop.

All to say- I personally loved the season. I loved every minute, and I want to see what happens next. I think that people are going to be very angry with the ending, but that there's so much more we have yet to uncover and we shouldn't underestimate the wit of Neil Gaiman.

[theemporium]

Congrats on 10k! I absolutely love your writing! It always makes me feel warm and fuzzy 💕

I was wondering if I could request violet fluff 💜 prompt #31 with James Potter? Thanks so much, hope you’re having a great day 🥰

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

31. “I’ve been in love with you since the day we met."

.

James Potter honestly thought he was losing his mind.

He liked to pride himself over the fact he was good with people: talking to them, understanding them, observing them. He was a social butterfly and fairly empathetic, and he could talk to a brick wall and somehow still make it one of the most entertaining conversations people have ever witnessed. 

He tended to thrive in social situations, basking in the attention when the spotlight was on him. He was never made for the shadows or outskirts. He was made to be the person someone could always rely on in public, the one who could change the conversation when needed or keep things from becoming stagnant and awkward. 

But all of those skills felt redundant and useless when it came to you. 

Because, here’s the thing—James is, like, ninety-nine percent sure that you aren’t doing it on purpose which honestly makes the whole thing worse.

James Potter is not a subtle man. Far from it, if anyone is concerned. He is open with his feelings and wants and desires and dreams. He wears his heart on his sleeve and he wears it proudly. And he has been flirting with you since day one. 

And you flirt back. He swears you flirt back. Hell, despite the way they mocked how lovesick and besotted he was, even his friends were sure you flirted back because that was the only way to describe your banter. It was flirty and teasing and, on some occasions, mimicked that of an old married couple.

But just when James thinks he is finally getting somewhere with you, you pull a total one-eighty on him and he is left thinking that you are unaware of it all. That maybe—just fucking maybe—you are oblivious to James’ obvious and unsubtle attempts. 

He is also pretty sure you don’t realise that half of your hangouts with the boy were his attempts at asking you on a date. 

And he was losing his goddamn mind. 

It’s almost ironic that all it would take was a potions assignment for things to come together.

“It’s a simple potion, there really shouldn’t be any mistakes or problems,” Slughorn announced as he wandered through the room, his robes swishing behind him with each step. “If you have any problems, just ask but this potion should be easy for your age.”

And the thing was, yeah, it was pretty easy. James looked at the instructions and it was something he could have done with his eyes closed if he really wanted to. 

But Remus wasn’t in class today, instead deciding to take the day off with the full moon having just passed. And your usual partner wasn’t in either. And now you were partners together and you were really pretty and, honestly, James couldn’t be blamed for being a little distracted. 

He also didn’t know that fucking up the potion would turn it into an accidental truth serum. 

In fact, he didn’t even realise until the two of you were too busy laughing at Slughorn demanding the two of you go to the bathrooms to clean up, halfway down the corridor when he turned to look at you and just blurted out the words before he could stop himself.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

You paused, shoes squeaking against the floor as you looked at him with wide eyes. “What did you say?” 

And before he could even try to come up with an excuse, he was talking again. “I said you’re pretty. Because you are. I always think you’re pretty but you’re prettier when you laugh.”

You blinked. “You really think that?”

“Of course I do,” James retorted, almost snorting a little at the incredulous tone of your voice. “I think you’re one of the most gorgeous girls in this world. It’s why I flirt with you, like, every day.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Oh.”

“I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” James continued because he couldn’t really bring himself to stop. “And I really want to kiss you all the time. I just don’t know if you like me back or not.”

“I do,” you blurted out, but there was a smile on your face—even if it was a little shy. “I do like you back. And I want to kiss you too.” 

“Sweet,” James grinned and then, because he was a man of action and promises, he closed the distance between the two of you. 

His warm palms cupped your cheek, his body pressed against every inch of your own before he kissed you. It was dizzying and slightly surreal. It made your head spin when his tongue swiped over your lips before exploring your mouth. It made your knees buckle when a low groan sounded from the back of his throat.

But it was everything the two of you wanted and more. 

And yeah, maybe James Potter was going to lose his mind if this was how good it felt to kiss you.

.

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! Imagine the wife rizzing up Miguel at home first for once lol

Miguel is working out and she can't help but stare at his big ol bakery. She sneaks up behind him and traps a handful of cheek in a tight grasp. Miguel jolts and looks to find his horny wife.

They tease each other a bit before she sits down so he can give her a little show. Some silly booty shaking, then some lap grinding, then some serious pussy pounding with her legs wrapped around his waist and hands gripping his ass for dear life lol

A little Magic Mike Miguel? Perhaps 🤭 Mild nsfw under cut.

A grunt. A deep breath.

You watched him as his back flexed and the ripple of his muscles contorted at every move he made. Heavy small weights, lifted like they were anything but cardboard, sweat etched and oozed from the top of his back, his neck and his hair, done in a small manbun.

The sight made you bit your lip. Sometimes you truly wondered how you were able to get a man like him to be with you, date you and marrying you and out not one but two babies in you.

Too good for anyone else but me.

Miguel had told you once you had asked him out of true wonder. He was magnetic. He was now pushing himself up the bar, making the hard lines in his back to sharpen even more. God you loved leaving marks on that back. And he'd proudly wear them.

He was a solid 6'9", And you barely reached his chin. Thoughts of the previous night when he'd wake up, pissed at the thought someone else fucking you, to actually give your guts a bit of a mean arrangement.

Gabi was at school and Benjamin was with Peter, His play dates with Mayday had been incredibly well, and the little toothy mini version of him and you couldn't help but have lots of fun.

And so were you.

Sauntering over him, you squeezed his well defined, bubble like, and firm ass. He tensed and snapped his neck to look at you, a bit startled at the sudden action.

"Hola, nalgón." (Hey bubble-butt) he smirked at your improved spanish. His sweat acted like an aphrodisiac to your senses, clean, a bit of musky, and the remnants of earthy undertones.

You kissed his back, he coked an eyebrow to you, turning to face you, and still your grip on him was steely. Flushed cheeks and clammy hands, slow panting, full blown eyes, staring with hunger at him. a chill running down his spine.

"Hola, cariño" He smiled and pecked your lips. You chased his lips and he obliged with a knowing smirk, hand cupping your chin, a favorite and subtle way to assert his dominance over you, to then give you a kiss that only fed the fire raging between your legs.

He made you sat on the couch and his hands raked all over his chest hooking his thumbs the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Uh-uh" He shook his head, turned around and you couldn't help but smack his ass. A full on loud smack that send him laughing.

"¿Tienes hambre, mi reina?" (Hungry, my queen?) He prowled at your sitting form to then take your hands and place them over his torso.

"Touch me." you giggled at his command and raked tenderly your hands over him. Firm muscle that shivered under your needy touch. His eyes chasing yours. He cornered you between him and the couch. You groaned lowly as he locked your hips with his bent legs, as he sat ontop of you.

His hands took your wrist and placed them above your head.

"¿Qué quiere mi chaparrita? (What does my darling wants?)

It was enough for a single hand to hold your wrists above you as the other one, cupped your chin, making your gaze to lock with his.

"¿Un masage?" (A massage?)

You shook your head. A dangerous thrill invaded your body and you giggled, licking his thumb. He laughed and kissed your lips, but you needed more and he was teasing. Maybe payback for all the times you had provoked him without much advance, and leaving him with blue balls.

"¿Una buena cogida?" (A good fuck?)

You nodded almost too eager as you bit your lip

He hoisted you up in a swift movement, like if all his training was for a specific purpose, to lift you like he would pick a pillow. It paid off in so many ways, specially if he felt particularly dominating and pissed.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, his large hand squeezed handfuls of your generous and plump arse. You hips grind against him, but he smirks. The tips of his fangs baring.

"Let's get some cardio then." He threw you over his shoulder and spanked your ass with the same force you had slapped his before and hauled you to the bedroom

[forgeofthenine]

I recently watched some of season two of The Legend of Vox Machina and saw the Gimli episode with the spicy sketch book. Lets say s/o had their own spicy sketchbook and the three Tiefling Bachelors happened to find it?

I've never watched the Legend of Vox Machina, but I had a great time writing this set of headcanons! I will admit, I did also bounce around a couple ideas with the lovely @swordcreature for Dammons headcanons. I hope everyone enjoys <3

NSFW under the cut

The bachelors finding their partners 'spicy' sketchbook

Dammon

Dammon would probably pick up your sketchbook by accident when he's trying to grab one of his own similarly bound books

He knows what it actually is the moment he opens the book, seeing the carefully drawn lines and subtle colour on the page

However, as much as he knows this is an invasion of your privacy, he can't tear his eyes away

There, on the page, is a drawing of him completely naked and leaning back against one of his anvils with a cheeky smile on his face

It's such a shock he can't help but flip through the pages, revealing even more sketches of a scantily clad blacksmith

His entire face is flushed, his tail swishing behind him as he eagerly realises this is how you view him

Absolutely the type to put your sketchbook back but will make suggestive comments that make you wonder if he's seen what you've drawn

It piques your curiosity but there's no way for you to get more information from him

That is until he recreates one of your sketches as a surprise

You walk into the kitchen, finding Dammon in the smallest and tightest pair of boxer briefs he owns, a suggestive grin on his face

Zevlor

I feel like it would actually be pretty fun to outright show Zevlor your spicy sketchbook

Once you guys have been together for a while you realise he's much more sexually liberated than you first thought

That doesn't stop the way his whole body stiffens as soon as his gaze falls upon the picture you drew portraying how he looks while getting head

He's looking at a picture of himself, sketched eyes rolling back and a heavy flush in coloured lead on his face, knowing now thats how he looks as you kneel between his legs

While being slightly embarrassed you've spent so much time drawing these things, it's obvious that he wants to see more and will ask to look at the rest

His nails trace some of the lead lines as he looks at them, particularly on pictures that might include a portrayal of you in it

You can easily tell he likes your lewd drawings in two ways, how Zevlor compliments them and how his pants tent at the mere idea of the things you think of doing to him

You can't really blame him if he carries you off to your shared bed to have his way with you once he's finished admiring your art

Rolan

Rolan is barely looking at the book as he picks it up and flips it open, expecting it to be his tome on illusory magic

You can imagine his suprise when instead he's looking at a picture of him spread over a bed, cock hard as rests against his bare stomach

The book snaps shut before it's near flinged back onto his desk he picked it up from, he can feel the way his ears burn as if fire courses through his veins

He tries to put it out of his mind, distracting himself unsuccessfully with study until you come in and collect your sketch book

As soon as you do, his hand reaches out to wrap around your wrist

You can see the soft blush on Rolans face as he avoids your gaze, brusquely asking if you only drew him in compromising positions

He's even more flustered by the laugh he hears, pulling you in closer to him and actually looking you in the eyes now, asking if you put it on his desk on purpose

There will be plenty of time for you to show him your collection of lewd art after he's done showing you just what you've awoken in him

[sea-of-dust]

MAKOTO YUKI x GN! Reader

Summary: Dating headcannons

N: I had this just rotting bro posting this with the event. Ik u don't read these angst jumpscare. Also DO NOT listen to Malice Mizer OR SWEET (p5) while reading fanfic or headcannons for this guy you'll cry 7 times

Hm? Is something your gonna hear alot. He notices everything. Sometimes he purposely doesn't push you to tell him, other times he's told by Yukari.

He knows when your troubled, you can tell when he knows what's going on as he tends to get a bit closer before going "hm?" You notice when he's trying to comfort you. Trying to be sneaky just makes it more obvious, it's even more odvious when he sneaks snacks to you near your door, like he isn't the first suspect.

"?" He lays his head on your shoulder slowly inching closer. "You look like you're fuming. Did something happen?" "Nothing much just a headache" "I see" you never feel his arms wrapped around while you as you stood next to him, soft hums comming from him.

Makoto tries to hide his affections in public. Limiting it to hand holding or subtle matching things you both had on your person. The fewer people the higher the chance of him taking a small snooze on your shoulder, you end up giving him piggybacks when he does this.

He let's you listen to music with him. At the cost of a small tease. "I wanna listen aswell..." You look away clearly flustered to ask this "and why would my dove want that?" "HUH" you look at him wide eyed seeing him smirk "BRO" "? I thought I was your boyfriend" and back to the straight faced s.e.e.s boy. This was his way of flustering you, calling you a random nickname and then acting like nothing happened, you always reset back to bro when he does this making it even better for him.

He wanders...alot. This guy would get lost in a supermarket and be like "oh I lost them..." and then find you calmly while you'd just panic about where he was. He always appears from nowhere when this happens. "I've looked everywhere jimpei I'm considering going into the fountain..." "you walk so fast" he burries himself into the nape of your neck, "I almost lost you again" you were so lucky jimpei was on the phone and not in person or you two would have never stopped getting teased when you got to school

If you ever wondered about s.e.e.s or ever wondered why he was always so tired, he'd act like he didn't hear you. "So what's s.e.e.s, heard it had something to do with some sorta time thing?" He'd be right next to you. You saw him peak up and just go back to staring into the void seconds later. "I know you heard me" you furrow your brows slightly but he just lays there for a bit moves his hair and then goes "huh?" "UGHHH" you're not getting him to budge

That would be the case if you didn't have a persona he'd still try to pretend he didn't know until you saved him from a few shadows. "How did you get knocked down by wind of all things imagine I blow and you and you get stunned" your persona deals with them easily while you help him up. "So what is this place my princess, my shawty bae, my-" "please...shut up" "nah baby girl you brought this on yourself" he sighs but he did enjoy the free piggy back ride so he pretended the wind hit him THAT hard.

"You're still carrying him around" Yukari cringes "he can barely keep his eyes open tho" "oh he'll live watch this" Yukari turns around "we're gonna go get a sna-" "don't say it infront of jimpei unspelled" he groans nuzzling back into your neck "told ya, get him off your back" easier said than done the guys like those theme park bracelets you'll never get him off. "Yukari let go of me" his voice a bit annoyed "no chance! Come on you gotta walk like the rest of us think of y/ns back!" You got him to walk...but he had to hold your hand and would almost drift off again if you haven't move away everytime you noticed. "Please try to stay awake were almost done" "...." You catch his head "don't lean on me, how about this you can rest once we get back to my room" he suddenly has enough energy to walk without leaning on you.

He loves whenever he goes to your dorm. It always feels so calm in there like some sorta checkpoint. Sometimes he gets there before you already laying there like it was his own room. "Welcome home" "oh minato- wait...howed you get in" "you left the door unlocked" "oh" he tries to use the 'just wanted to study with you excuse' nah the dudes there for every kind of sfw romantic thing you can think of. He's there to be called lover boy unironcally! "Funny how you aren't as sleepy during the night" you move closer to him "you're nocturnal" you joke playfully giving him a small kiss on the cheek. In actuality he had eaten a bunch of candy so he could stay awake with you.

Take him with you everywhere!! If you'd e-mail him about anything related to heading out you don't even have to invite him he'd just magically appear. You don't even have to say WHERE you're going. "How do you always know where I am?" "This place is small"

He'd know what your into without you telling him almost sniffing it out. "I thought you'd like this" he hands you a small gift watching you blush immensely. "Howed you know I liked this kinda stuff" "I figure stuff out quickly" he did have hints though. The way you acted the way you looked at things simular to it. it made it odvious you'd like one of those.

He hides when he's sick always trying to hold back coughs or sneezes he suffers in silence and would prefer it that way. Why? Because the first time he was sick infront of you or anyone else no one wanted to be around him incase it spread. You were willing to of course until Mitsuru put a ban on seeing him for the sake of everyone's health, you still got tests to deal with ya know! So now he just hides it trying to recover quickly. Can't say the same for you though "cough cough! Ah sorry I've had a really bad cold lately" all he needed to hear to have you carried back to your dorm after school. "When we're you able to manhandle me" "please take this" he hands you a small medicine cap expecting you to drink it from there. "It's just a cold" "colds don't have you coughing yourself into orbit for it to just be a casual one" sighing you gulp it down

He'll pretend to not know how to put on his ribbon and ask if you're able to help him. Then turn around pull it off and look at you with a "can you do it again" face. He just likes the way you tie it while you're on the train with him.

Fastest Emailer EVER. You'd think it would take him litteral years since he sometimes leaves people out to dry, according to jinpei, and then he'd respond at the speed of sound to you nearly as fast as the email sends.

You try to pitch his cheeks only to get him to revert to an angry cat. So you've resorted to softer smaller pinches, he dosent mind as much now just don't too it too often or he'll start pinching you too

He may like using yarn with you. Depends on how easy it is though. "What are you making?" "A heart bracelet a girl asked me to make for her and her boyfriend" he reaches for your hand "do you mind if I try this?" "Sure it's in the left drawer" he could barely make the heart at first but as soon as you got a clipboard involved it was a whole diffent story, he was a machine, you didn't know this at the time but you definitely accidently made a yarn bracelet monster. Must have found out they can be made into sp items. That's why there's a lock on the left drawer now, he never opened it without asking its just to keep him from getting ideas, it does the opposite

He has his flirtatious momments, mostly just because he wants to tease you. It starts with a perfectly silent momment, in the classroom when they finally let you sit with him, nearly asleep in a library, on very rare occasions tartarus, he'd smirk and then lock in for the absolute chaos he's about to cause. A simple lean into your ear whispering softly yet clearly "I want a kiss" your eyes would always widen but you'd also respond with a whisper back "now?" Clearly slightly baffled you kiss him on the cheek quickly. Oh but sometimes that isn't enough, sometimes he just wants to see you melt, rubbing his hand on your already flushed cheek he leans in drowsy eyes meeting yours "I want a bit more please" he does enjoy you cupping his face and kissing him. When he does stuff like that you thank the lord the sees memmbers split up or you two are pretty much alone together.

There are times he's tempted to kiss you and then act like he didn't do anything. Cheeks are his favorite you can barely see him comming,*chu*, and now he gets to tease you make you think he never did such a thing "stop kissing me while i study" "wadya mean" "you gotta study focus on that" "i wanna focus on you more" "huh?" Another quick kiss "you did it again" "i dunno what youre talking about" exhaling you kiss him under the eye "lets get back to studying before it gets too late" and then hed lean onto your shoulder. He wants you to catch him more often

"I bought a camera! Let's take a few snaps, just the two of us!, "I don't see why not" holding the camrea steady, you take a picture of the shell he found. *SNAP* a picture of him looking out on the beach. *SNAP* "Why are you taking so many of me?" "I want you to last forever" putting the camrea down and walking toward him, he reaches his hand out. "Oh sure" you give it to him and he holds it up, making sure you're both in frame. *SNAP* a picture with both of you smiling as the sun sets on the beach. Softly looking at your features, his eyes land on ur lips, then cheek, eyes, then back to your cheek again. Smiling to himself, he holds it up again "you mind if we take another?" "Alright" *SNAP* soft lips press your cheek the momment the camera flashes. "You mind if I get another, the picture might be a bit blurry" with a rare smile on his face he pockets the picture. You covering the cheek he had just kissed. "Sure..." still surprised you lean into him smiling as the shyness gets to you. *SNAP* another kiss, happy with the photo he turns to you. "Do you have any plans after this?" "No it's straight to the dorm for me" "perfect" "?"

As you two walk home after changing clothes, he seemed to be more bright than usual as you wondered why, you were happy you got to see him smile like that. "I have something for you" "really? Me too!" "I'll meet you in your room then" hugging you before he leaves to his room to pick up your gift you collect what you had gotten for him, a DVD, a small bag with candies, and a rare jack frost you had won that you've customized to look like him. As soon as he opens the door you try to hide your gifts behind your back. "I can see them" "No you cant" softly giggling to himself he closed the door and gave you a case with a small bag with it. "Well since you've already seen then" you slide over the minato frost with the other things on its lap. "I saw someone do it on the internet and wanted to make one of you..." averting his eyes afraid he may not like it. He grabs its hands, then it's crocheted hair "it looks just like me" he pulls its cheeks. "And this is what I got for you" giving you the case and small bag. You decide to open the case first. Inside was a pair of headphones and a music player the same model as his. "How'd you know I wanted one?" "You eye mine alot, so I just figured" without much thought, you kissed his cheek "I don't know if I could put into words how thankful I am" You kiss him again. Excitedly, you open the small bag, revealing a bunch of stickers. "I wanted to decorate this with you if you don't mind" "I don't see why not" you excitedly put the sticker on his face then the case almost 5 stickers later his face again. "You look so cute with them all over you" "right back at you" giggling at his joke, you cover the player carefully in stickers with him. He even showed you how he put his music onto them.

Eventually what nearly always happens when he's in your room happens, his soft eyes flutter shut while laying on your bed the frost that looks just like him in hand. *SNAP* *SNAP* the opportunity was just too good to pass up, one for you and one for him to wake up to. You lay next to him moving his hair as to see both eyes. "Sweet dreams" your eyes grow heavy as they close. Days were sweet after that though you did notice him being a bit more busy, you didn't even notice when January ended, and he was nowhere to be seen. You asked most of the people you knew that spoke to him but they just ended up near teary eyed or near unable to say a word about it. "He's in a coma" Jinpei finally is able to croak out, "we don't know what happened to him" you feel your heart drop at his words, near running to the hospital after school and laying by his side. He looked so peaceful, you'd wonder what he was experiencing. Holding his hand for what seemed like it could be the final time you left, it felt a bit scary walking home without him with you.

You put on the music player he gave you, all covered in stickers he helped you put on. "Burn my dread...full moon full life...memmories of-" you hault finding yourself at the dorm, you go in, putting your hands in your pocket, reminding you of him, accidently touching his spare key he gave you, your mind suddenly asked you to go into his room. It felt like snooping, but the thought just wouldn't let you go. Opening the door, you find something on his desk, a letter along with a few pictures. "I may have forgotten to ask someone to give this to you, but I hope it someday reaches you, I'm writing this just in case something bad happens to me, I'm gonna miss seeing you when I wake up and waking up before you. All those candies I ate from you because I wanted to stay up late, all the times I've gotten free piggyback rides around town. I'm gonna miss you above all. I'm sorry I took your camera" getting to that part you look at the pictures on the desk one of him sleeping with the frost you made him, one of you trying on his sees uniform. "To be fair you already seen most of them, I just thought that if anything happened you'd want some of me" scattering them multiple pictures of him trying on your accessories, pictures of him smiling widely at your favorite places, pictures of him trying diffrent hairstyles. "I've bought a replacement film in advance, if you need to you can take my jacket and the mako-frost. They'll keep you warm" You look at more pictures, pictures of you and him, the kiss at the beach, you napping on him, a picture of you crocheting. "If push comes to shove, don't forget about me, keep living on, Makoto ps: thanks for letting me get this close to you"

[shadowynn]

| the paradigm complex | four |

pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

genre: yandere!vampire!cult!poly! ateez au

warnings: yandere behavior, cursing, mentions of violence, manipulation, toxic relationships

They'll do whatever you ask. Anything you need. Anything you want. It's yours. They'll fulfill your every desire and whim. Give you the life you had always dreamed about.

And in exchange, you wouldn't just give them your soul. Oh, no. They weren't demons. What good was your soul alone when your purpose was better served alive and well? Your soul was nice, sure but it wasn't all they wanted. It wasn't all they needed. They needed your body, your mind. Your blood. You entirely. Every single fiber of your being was essential and would soon be theirs and theirs alone.

The moment you signed that contract, everything would change. For them and for you.

You just didn't know it yet.

And there was nothing you could do about it.

wordcount: 7.8k

a/n: i had lots of motivation to write this next part, so it's coming your way a bit sooner than normal. i actually meant to have it done earlier, but life got a little crazy. i hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for all your support!

| three | four | five |

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Even before you opened your eyes, you knew something wasn’t quite right; the bed and sheets were different from the one you were used to. They were stiff around you, not quite broken in, leading you to slowly become aware of the growing ache in your neck. But despite the subtle awareness something wasn’t quite right in the back of your mind, you did little more than switch to your other side and bury yourself deeper beneath the covers, hoping for just a bit more sleep before your alarm went off. 

Your movement shifted your face towards the windows, however, and left you pulling the comforter over your head to block out the bright light. You groaned, wondering why the hell it was so bright in your room before realization finally dawned on you.

“Shit!” you cursed, yanking the blankets off and scrambling around for your phone. The fact you were currently inside the bed of your new apartment only briefly registered in your mind when the nightstand you instinctively reached for was nonexistent, much more concerned over the fact you were late for work.

Another round of curses rolled past your lips when you finally managed to find your phone tangled in the sheets next to you and saw that it was nearly two hours past the time your shift was supposed to start. You scrambled to unlock your phone, ready to type out an apology to your manager and let her know you would be there as soon as you could when you noticed the previous conversation above. Your brow scrunched as you read and reread the messages between the two of you, trying to not only make sense of her words, but your own as well. The conversation had taken place the night before, and yet, you had no memory of her texting you and letting you know you had been taken off the schedule, let alone that you had openly acknowledged this fact.

You looked up from your phone, briefly taking in your new apartment around you and wondering how and why you ended up here. You remembered coming over to unpack, including Mingi and Jongho coming over to help you, and then of the invitation of going over to Wooyoung’s for dinner, but things grew hazy afterwards. You had gone with full intentions of leaving early to head back to your boyfriend’s apartment, but that clearly hadn’t happened. 

Why?

Why hadn’t you gone back? Was it because you had discovered you were being taken off your work schedule? Had you decided to just stay the night here and go back to grab the rest of your stuff later, when the sun was back out? But if so, why couldn’t you remember? If you focused hard enough, you thought you could pull fragments of a phone conversation with Felix, but anything more only made your head begin to throb.

“Oh, god,” you groaned, head collapsing down into your hands. It had happened again; another lapse in your memory.

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to you; having experienced similar bouts of amnesia in the past few years. At least, you were pretty sure this wasn’t the first time it had happened. You were pretty sure you had experienced occurrences similar to this one before, but the longer you thought about it, the less certain you were. Any time you had questioned Jae about it, he had always brushed back your concern, saying you were just imagining things, but how could you imagine something that wasn’t there?

You had no time to ponder this last question, pulled away when there was a knock on your door downstairs. The sound had you jumping, wondering who was at your door and what it was they could possibly want from you. You hadn’t been expecting company, at least you didn’t think you were, but who knew at this point. You could have very well made plans the night before with someone and forgotten all about them.

When the knock repeated itself a few moments later, you realized that you couldn’t just continue to sit in bed. You needed to go answer the door, but in your haste to do just that, you knocked over a glass of water that had been set beside your bed. You cursed as the water spilled, setting the glass back upright and taking a quick note of the bottle of Tylenol beside it. A bottle that was most certainly not yours. 

You had no time to ponder this new revelation or to clean up the water you had just spilled, and left both items as they were as you continued to scramble your way down the stairs and towards your front door.

It wasn’t until you swung the door open and saw Hongjoong standing on the other side perfectly immaculate that you gave any sort of thought about your own appearance. His hair had been styled to appear effortless, but you were familiar enough with the process to know it must have taken him a while based on your past experiences with Felix, and though his clothes also appeared casual at first glance, you knew they were probably worth more than you made in a month. It was a stark contrast to the sweats you still wore from the day before and the bedraggled state you were in from just waking up.

“Good morning!” Hongjoong’s smile faded as you opened the door, taking in your dazed state. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head, subconsciously attempting to straighten your hair up as you shifted your stance in the doorway. What was he doing here? “I was already awake.”

“Oh, good.” His smile returned. “I didn’t think you had any food at your place since it was all a little last minute, so I brought you some coffee and muffins.” He motioned to the items in his hand, making your eyes widen.

“Thank you.” You struggled to come up with a proper response, taken back by his act of kindness. Why would he do something like this for you and why did it create a wave of warmth flooding through you, especially with the smile he was giving you right now. “Um, would you like to come in?” 

Hongjoong nodded, returning his gratitude as he walked past you into your apartment. You closed the door behind him, doing your best to calm your racing heart as he approached the small kitchen to your right. You weren’t upset by his appearance, not really, but the timing had been impeccable, catching you completely off guard as you had tried to piece the night before back together.

“How’s your head doing?” He extended one of the cups of coffee towards you, but you hardly noticed, much more focused on the question he had just asked.

“My head?” Your head tilted, once again trying your hardest to recapture the memories you had forgotten, but coming up short once more. Had you hit it last night? Was that why your mind was so hazy and why you had stayed here instead of going back like originally planned?

It was hard to hide your panic in that moment, suddenly very conscious of the fact you had little memory of your time with him and the others last night. You trusted yourself enough to know you couldn’t have done anything especially crazy, but what if your actions had been purely accidental? What if you had hit your head? God, that was an accident you would have a hard time living down. 

“Ah, I see. You don’t remember anything, do you?” It was hard to read his expression, but his smile felt teasing, leaving you more worried than you had been before. Oh, god, what had you done? “Well, if your head’s not bothering you, then I would take that as a good sign. I was worried the hangover would hit you hard this morning. Which is partially why I made the excuse to bring you breakfast. I wanted to make sure you were okay after last night.”

You barely heard his last confession, brain locking on to his reference before. Hangover? 

What did he mean by that? You hadn’t drank anything last night, fully acknowledging the fact you still had a long drive back to your boyfriend’s apartment. And even if you didn’t plan on making the drive back anymore, you were certain you wouldn’t have drank much, if at all, not wanting to risk making a fool of yourself later on. His words didn’t make any sense, and yet, it had to be true, didn’t it? How else would you explain the black spots in your memory? You must have gotten drunk.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry.” You could feel your face heating up, more embarrassed than you had ever been before. Not just from the action itself, but from the sudden fear of what you might have done in your drunken haze. “I can’t believe I did that.” Your arms wrapped around your chest, unable to quite look Hongjoong in the eyes anymore. What the hell had you been thinking last night? What had gotten into you to think that had been a good idea?

“No, no, it’s okay.” Hongjoong set the coffee back down on the counter and reached for your shoulder, shifting your eyes back towards him. “If anything, we’re probably the ones to really blame.” His expression was almost sheepish when you met his gaze once more, as though the situation embarrassed him just as much as you. “We might have encouraged you to drink a bit too much in the first place, but you were so excited at the prospect of breaking up with your boyfriend, that we thought it was a proper cause for celebration.”

“Oh.” Your lips twisted, mulling over the new set of information he had given you. What all had you said? How much information about your life had you given them? And god, what exactly had you done once you had started drinking?

You hadn’t… done anything with one of them, had you? 

No. You shook your head, though it did little to stop another blush from blooming across your cheeks once more. You may have lost quite a bit of your self-control when you were drunk, but you wouldn’t have done something like that, and you couldn’t imagine any of them willing to partake either. They had been so kind to you so far, more than respectful of you and your boundaries. You wouldn’t have. And they wouldn’t have. You were certain…

…But still? What if?

“Hongjoong, I didn’t do anything… crazy last night, did I?” It hurt to ask, and yet, you needed to know. You couldn’t very well face any of them with the what ifs stuck in your head.

Luckily, he shook his head. “No. Once we realized you had probably had a drink too many, I brought you back here to sleep it off. You pretty much crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow.”

“Thank you.” His words served as a reminder to the medicine and water set beside your bed, finally discovering the origin to both. “And I’m really sorry about last night. It might be hard to believe, but that’s really not like me at all.” You shook your head, trying once again to piece the night together. “I don’t know what got into me.” You just wished you could remember something about last night. Anything.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve all had our fair share of drunken nights in the past, so no one’s judging you for it.” He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze, guiding you over to the kitchen island where the food sat. “But I’m guessing that means you don’t remember we had made plans to go back to your apartment together, do you?”

You graciously took the coffee he handed you this time around. Usually, you preferred tea over coffee, but you would never pass on a cup, especially seeing as Hongjoong had gone out of his way for you. And after the night you had just had, perhaps the coffee would do something to jumpstart your brain again, allowing you access to the memories that were no longer there.

“I’m so sorry, but you would be correct about that.” You paused, taking a sip of your coffee and wishing you could have made a much better first impression with them all. “To be completely honest, the only thing I really remember about last night is getting my ass kicked in Smash Bros.”

The comment earned a chuckle from Hongjoong, easing a bit of the tension in your shoulders. Despite your embarrassment, he didn’t seem to be judging you too harshly for it. “Well, if you’re still interested, I had offered to tag along with you back to your old apartment and help you grab the rest of your stuff.” He opened up the box he had brought, proffering it towards you and prompting you to take one of the muffins inside.

You grabbed one at random, voicing your gratitude as you were once again struck by how kind he had been. Not only had he ensured you made it back to your room unscathed last night, leaving you water and pills to help with the possibility of a hangover, but he had also thought to check up on you and grab you food knowing you had none. “And if you don’t mind tagging along, I would appreciate the help, but you don’t have to. I’m sure I can manage just fine on my own if I need to.”

“I don’t mind, really. After all, it’s the perfect excuse to get to know you better.” His words pulled you in, stopping you in your tracks. You had a hard time interpreting the statement, the smile that swiftly followed causing a strange pit to form in your stomach.

You fiddled with the muffin in your hand, not quite finding it so appealing anymore, as you struggled to come up with a response. “I hate to disappoint, but I’m afraid I’m not all that terribly interesting.”

Hongjoong leaned forward against the counter, propping his forearms up against it as he assessed you from the other side. “I find that very hard to believe.”

Something about his expression resonated within you, and you were struck with a sudden flurry of memories rushing through your mind of the night before. Or, at least, you had thought they were some of your missing ones; the innocent interactions you had with him and the others at the kitchen counter quickly fading to something else altogether. Your fingers fluttered to your lips before you could stop them, wondering why the hell you were suddenly picturing his lips encasing your own, let alone them traveling further downward, flitting over your racing pulse.

“Is something wrong?”

Hongjoong’s question brought you back to reality and you quickly dropped your hand. “No, I’m good.” You shook your head, doing your best to keep the blush the earlier thoughts brought and wondering just what had brought them on. He was attractive, there was no doubt about that, but you had never imagined something like this with anyone before, let alone something that vivid. “Just a bit out of still, I suppose.”

You observed him for a few seconds out of the corner of your eye, trying to figure him out. Hongjoong had been nothing but sweet and kind to you since you had met him, just like all the others, but that didn’t mean you knew him either. He had claimed nothing had happened the night before, and all the signs certainly pointed in that direction, but what if he was lying? What if something had happened? After all, you hadn’t been the only one drinking last night and he wanted to save both of you from the embarrassment.

But you smothered this thought as quickly as it came. There was no way that was true; you just couldn’t believe him or any of the others might have taken advantage of you in that way. The better solution was that you had simply dreamed it; your drunken state bringing your attraction to the man into full focus and into your dreams.

You excused yourself soon after, heading back upstairs to the bathroom to get ready once you realized your appetite had long left you. And one look in the mirror was all it took to further solidify your previous sentiments. Even if you were currently disheveled from sleeping at the moment, there was no way someone like Hongjoong would have shown enough interest in you to ever kiss you like that. He was in a completely different league than you, one you could never hope to achieve. Why would someone like him want you? Why would anyone want you? You weren’t pretty enough. You weren’t confident enough, and you sure as hell weren’t rich enough. And then, you couldn’t forget the utter fool of yourself you had made when you had gotten drunk off your ass last night. You were nothing short of a walking disaster. You knew it. They knew it. And if for some reason they hadn’t figured it out yet, they would. Jae certainly had. 

You craved to take a shower and change your clothes, the anxiety of your current appearance creeping up on you, but you didn’t have the proper supplies to do either at the moment. Instead, you settled for simply rinsing your face off with some cold water and pulling your hair up and out of your face for the time being. You straightened out your clothes as best you could, hating that all you could do was wait until you got to your destination to change into something clean.

“I guess I’m ready whenever you are.”

Hongjoong was still in the kitchen when you made your way back down, taking a short detour to clean up the water you had spilled and grab the pill bottle that was his and return it. He was still leaning over the counter as you approached, munching on one of the muffins with his phone in hand. Upon hearing you speak, he leaned back up, giving you another one of his breathtaking smiles, though this time it did little more than deepen the growing pit in your chest. Why the hell was he so nice to you? All it did was serve to make you feel worse than you already did.

“Alright then,” he pocketed his phone, oblivious to the effect his actions had on you, “lead the way.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hongjoong had never wished he could read someone’s mind more than he did now; your silent figure in the passenger seat making him yearn for just a small peak inside that pretty, little head of yours. Sadly, only the demons had that ability, and all he could do was attempt to coax them out of you, but that was a precarious and unreliable process. Without the proper concentration, you could very well just end up telling him what he wanted to hear and not whatever thoughts held you captive at the moment.

When you shifted in your seat next to him, his eyes once again trailed to the curving slope of your neck in the rearview mirror, now on full display with your hair being tied up. The majority of your scent was still covered up by the vampire who had previously taken possession of you, but it had grown stronger since last night, having now been a few days since you had last consumed his blood. It was this singular fact that had saved you the night before. If your scent had been any more prevalent, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to restrain himself, allowing himself to give in to his desires and sink his fangs into your fragile skin to take his fill.

It had been a combined effort of them all to erase your memories. Your cursed lineage might have made your mind weak to his kind’s manipulation, but without their blood flowing through you at the moment, they were limited on exactly what all they could do with you. Though your boyfriend was far weaker than them, really nothing more than a child, his blood did hold some sway over your mind, helping to keep you close to him and protect you from others’ who wished to manipulate you. And though it had been easy enough to cover their track and lead you to accept his tale of the events with little push, he knew something about it hadn’t sat quite right with you. He had seen the way you had looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking, clearly taking note of the way your fingers had fluttered to your lips earlier. Something had leaked through their fog, but it didn’t concern him. The way your cheeks had continually tinted pink told him everything he needed to know. 

He still wondered how the hell they had gotten this lucky. There weren’t many of your kind around anymore; your ancestors long learning how to protect and hide themselves from his kind, so to not only have you walk straight into their lives yourself, but to do so unbound was completely unheard of. No vampire in their right mind would ever let you walk around so freely, especially in another clan’s territory. He had been certain it was a trick when Yeosang had first made mention of it, certain you were there on behalf of your master, but one little taste of your blood was all it had taken for Yeosang to see otherwise. You might have been currently tied to someone else, but you weren’t bound to anyone, not by the standards of vampiric law, meaning you were more than fair game for anyone to take. 

“It’s the one up there on the left.”  

“Got it.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes flicked back to the road when you spoke, taking note of the building you had just mentioned and maneuvering his way over. He had thought he could be patient with you, but the longer he was around you, the less patient he became. Your scent was growing stronger, sweeter than anything he had ever smelled before, and he was beginning to become well aware of the fact the following days of waiting for the other’s blood to leave your system wouldn’t just be tortuous for you.

“It shouldn’t take that long.” You straightened up in your seat, fingers fiddling with the ends of your sleeves and serving as a telltale sign of the nerves flowing through you. Whether this was caused by his presence or the fact you were leaving the relationship you had been tied to for years, it was hard for him to tell. “It’s mostly just clothing and books I’m wanting to grab, but there’s a few other belongings I’d rather not lose too.”

“Don’t worry about the time,” he replied. “I have nothing else to do today, so I’m in no hurry.” And he wasn’t, wanting to fully savor the time he had with you alone and in no hurry to be back at The Paradigm where his brothers would be vying with each other for your full attention. If anything, he would do everything in his power to prolong your time out together, taking full advantage of having you all to himself.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, curiosity finally getting the better of him once he parked the car and the two of you were on your way upstairs. He could hear your heartbeat racing beside him, increasing the strength of your scent momentarily as your nerves got the better of you.

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” You nodded, but your hands fumbled with the keys you held, causing them to drop on the floor in front of you.

Hongjoong understood why your nerves had suddenly spiked. According to Mingi, this wasn’t the first time you had attempted to leave and you feared this time would end up just like all the others. And if you hadn’t happened to have stumbled upon them, it would have. If you had left for anywhere else, you would have just been tracked down and dragged right back to where you had started. But as terrifying as that aspect might have been for you, it was far better than the fate that would have awaited you if he or another vampire wouldn’t have found you in time.

But you didn’t have to worry. Neither of those outcomes would be happening this time around. Hongjoong knew this other vampire would try to get you back once he realized what had happened, but his efforts would be futile. Nothing he said or did would get you back, and would only serve to seal his own fate. He had his own fair share of crimes to pay for in due time, after all, the fact he had been turned illegally was the least of his problems. But, they would deal with that all in due time; they still had use of him yet. 

And as much as he hated the vampire who had originally had you - if he had understood how lucky he truly was to have you, he would have never treated you the way he had - Hongjoong had to give him some credit; his former treatment of you making it all the easier for them to draw you in. It had left you with a deep craving for something more, desperate to be loved. Desperate to be wanted. You yearned for a deeper sort of intimacy, wanting to be seen. Wanting to be held. You were broken and desperate for someone to come pick up the pieces, and who was he to deny you such a request? He would do anything you wanted, anything you desired. He would give you the life and love you yearned for, and all he asked in return was you entirely. 

And that wasn’t really asking much, now was it?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“y/n!”

It had only taken a few seconds for Felix to notice your appearance, calling out your name and waving you over shortly after you had entered the small store with Hongjoong in tow. You had told the man there was no need for him to come in, that you would only need a few seconds to drop some things off, but he had shrugged your concerns away, simply stating he didn’t mind accompanying you.

You quickly matched the bright smile the blond gave you, taking clear note of the way Felix’s eyes had roamed over towards Hongjoong before slowly returning back to you. His left brow raised, quietly questioning you as to whose company it was you currently kept, all the while doing nothing to hide the sly smirk when his eyes roamed over once more.

You quickly excused yourself from Hongjoong, hoping for a few minutes of peace with Felix to straighten things out before he had a chance to embarass you. Of all the years you had known the man, he had never been known for his subtlety and this was exactly why you had wished Hongjoong would have just waited in the car.

“Who the hell is that?” He wasted no time as you came around the counter, excusing himself from the front to come take with you.

“That is Kim Hongjoong,” your voice was low, pausing for a second to make sure the person of interest hadn’t followed you over before finishing your statement, “the current owner of The Paradigm.”

“Holy shit, n/n!” Felix’s eyes widened. “You weren’t lying; the guy is a fucking god.”

“Felix!” You scolded, hands raising up towards his mouth and muffling the loud reaction he had to your revelation as best you could. You followed Felix’s gaze back to where Hongjoong stood browsing a nearby section of the store, hoping he hadn’t and wouldn’t hear the conversation that was sure to come. He didn’t appear to have noticed, but it was hard to tell if that was a smile crossing his face or not from the angle you were at.

Whatever Felix said next, you weren’t sure. words muffled by your hands still covering his mouth. You gave him a pointed look, but removed your hands allowing him to speak freely once more.

“And just what is he doing here with you, hmm?” Felix’s brows lifted, leaning back against the counter.

“He’s just here to help me out.” You crossed your arms, fighting the blush Felix’s smug expression brought. “I needed some help getting the rest of my stuff from Jae’s, so he offered to lend a hand.” Perhaps not the exact truth. He had been the one to offer without any prompt from you and had then taken you out for lunch afterwards on top of bringing you breakfast that morning, but Felix didn’t need to know any of that. Not when it was clear Hongjoong was just helping you. “He’s just being friendly, Lix. That’s all.” Because why would it be anything more than that?

“Friendly, my ass,” Felix snorted, merely amused by your explanation. “No man would go out of his way to help a girl out this much and just want to be friends, n/n. I would know.”

“Well, you would be wrong this time around. After all, he’s not the only one who’s helped me these past few days.” Though his words did cause your cheeks to tint, you didn’t put much merit into them. Despite what Felix thought, Hongjoong was just being nice. “Mingi and Jongho helped me unpack quite a bit yesterday and then Wooyoung invited me to dinner with them all. They’re just trying to make sure I feel welcomed into their community.”

Felix hummed, unconvinced. “Oh, you young, naive fool.”

“Felix, he’s my boss!” Your eyes narrowed. 

“So, you’re telling me if that man cornered you and professed his undying love, you’d just what? Politely decline?” 

“Yes!”

But the slight hesitation in your reply and the way your face fully flamed at the thought was all Felix needed to know your answer wasn’t completely honest. In reality, you knew you didn’t want to mess with another relationship at the moment, desperate for some time to heal on your own and not wanting to hurt anyone with a rebound, but you didn’t know what you would do if a scenario similar to the one Felix had just mentioned were to happen. Especially when your mind traveled back to the thought of his lips tracing down your neck…

“And let’s also not forget that I literally just broke up with Jae. I don’t want to date anyone right now.” And you didn’t, right? Right?

“So, you finally did it?” Felix’s expression lightened at the mention of your ex-boyfriend, giving you a much needed distraction from the person you had come in with.

You nodded. “I left the letter on the fridge.”

It should have been simple to write, but it had taken you forever to complete. No matter which way you phrased it, it felt wrong, leading you to scribbling things out and starting anew just about twenty times. The first had felt too harsh, but the second one not quite harsh enough, almost encouraging him that a second chance might still be on the table. Nothing you wrote seemed to work, and if it wasn’t for Hongjoong coming to your rescue at the end, you didn’t doubt you would have never been able to write something that had satisfied you and would still be scribbling away.

“And you blocked him?” 

“Oh, no.” Your lips twisted, not quite thinking that far ahead into things. God only knew what he would try to do once he found the letter you had left him tomorrow. “I guess I should, shouldn’t I?”

You pulled your phone out of your back pocket, ignoring the message from Yeosang for now asking if anyone wanted to hang out later tonight and clicking on the conversation with your former boyfriend. Your eyes briefly scanned over the previous messages, feeling a tiny stab of panic. Were you really about to do this? Writing the letter had been one thing, but blocking his number felt much more permanent, officially cutting him out of your life completely.

Was that something you wanted?

It was strange. This was a day you had been looking forward to for so long, and yet, now that you were here, you didn’t know what it was that you wanted. You didn’t want to stay. You knew that, but he had been all you had known for so long. What if he was right? What if you did need him? You had never been on your own before, so what if you weren’t capable of it? What would happen when your life fell apart on you and you were left with no other choice but to go crawling back and praying he would take you?

Perhaps cutting him off from your life wasn’t the best choice. Perhaps all you needed was a short break from each other, some time to think things over before finalizing them. Then maybe the two of you could talk things out…

Seeing your hesitation, Felix plucked the phone from you hands, using your distracted state to his advantage.

“He, give that back!” You reached for your phone, but he held it above him, just out of your reach. “Damn you and your stupid long legs,” you cursed, but you didn’t really mean it, not when you knew he was only doing what you weren’t quite able to do yourself, just like Hongjoong before.

“There, all done.” He was about to hand your phone back to you when it buzzed from an incoming message. “Ooo, who’s Mingi and why is he texting you?” Felix’s brows wriggled before opening it up to read. “Hey, just checking in on you to see how you’re doing. Did you and Hongjoong-”

“Give it back!” 

Your face tinted as Felix read the message out loud, once again reaching for the phone in his hands. Thankfully, you got him unprepared this time around and were able to snag it back before he found any of the other messages you had on your phone from the rest of them. You didn’t know what you would do if he had found the group message you were in with them. None of it was anything but friendly, but he would find a way to make it seem more than it was. 

“I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better,” you mumbled, locking your phone back up and putting it back in your pocket for the time being; you could text Mingi back later.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Felix’s smile turned sheepish as he scratched at the back of his head. “I think it was one of those twenty-four hour stomach bugs or something. It came on fast, but besides some exhaustion this morning, I felt fine.” He shrugged, covering up a yawn with one of his hands. “But, I should be free after work in an hour if you want some help unpacking.”

“Really, that would be great!” 

You brightened up at his offer, fully knowing having Felix with you tonight would help calm your nerves. While his teasing helped to distract you from the issue at hand, your mind never fully strayed from it. What would Jae think when he got home tomorrow and found the letter? Would he try anything? And if so, what?

Felix straightened up before you had a chance to go over any of the details for the night, and when you noticed his eyes straying to your right, you turned to find Hongjoong approaching. 

You did your best to match the smile Hongjoong gave you, but you weren’t quite able to completely suppress the blush his figure brought from your earlier conversation with Felix. “Hongjoong, this is my friend, Felix.” You were quick to introduce the two when he got close, hoping once again that he had been too far away to hear anything Felix had said about him. “Felix, this is Hongjoong.”

“Nice to meet you,” Felix was the first to speak, a smug grin on his face as he extended his hand towards Hongjoong. “n/n here has talked quite a bit about you.”

You blanched, inwardly cursing the boy out in your head. You should have known better than to trust Felix around any of them, especially once it had been made known you found Hongjoong and the others' each physically attractive.

Hongjoong’s smile relaxed at Felix’s words, earning a soft chuckle that only served to increase your nerves and leave you yearning to disappear. “Likewise.”

“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.” Afraid for where the conversation might go if you let them, you quickly rummaged around in your bag for the few items you were there to drop off. “Felix and I just got to talking.” You gave your friend a pointed look, hoping he would listen to your silent plea and not do anything else to embarass you further.

“Right, we were actually just discussing what we were going to do to celebrate y/n’s breakup.” You should have known better than to trust Felix to back down, and you inwardly cursed the boy once more, absolutely terrified for the next words that would come out of his mouth. “We were thinking about maybe going clubbing since it’s been a while n/n’s been out dancing and I know how much you love to.” Felix’s expression was smug as he continued, ignoring how embarrassed the conversation made you. “If you and your other friends are free, you should come too. The more, the merrier, after all.”

You opened your mouth to intervene, wanting to tell Hongjoong he didn’t have to nor should he feel obligated to, but Hongjoong beat you to it, answering Felix’s invitation before you could open your mouth.

“I’d love to, and I’m sure the others would be down as well.” Hongjoong’s eyes brushed in your direction, the smile he gave deepening the blush that painted your cheeks. And for a split second there, you thought Felix might have been right. Perhaps Hongjoong did harbor some attraction towards you. “In fact, I’m close with the owners of Illusion downtown, so I wouldn’t have any issue getting us in if you wanted to go there.”

For a moment there, you had forgotten just who Hongjoong was and the status he must have held in the city, but one mention of Illusion, the most sought after club in the city, was all it took to remind you just who he was. The waitlist for it was months long, and the entry fee far higher than you could ever afford.

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to put you out of your way.” Even Felix seemed taken back by the mention, catching him off guard for a split second. 

“It’s no problem, really,” Hongjoong replied. “The owners actually owe me quite a few favors, so I pretty much have acess to it whenever I want, and if we’re going to celebrate y/n’s new status, then we might as well do it in style.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Wait, he was the one to invite us?” San asked, straightening up from the couch once Hongjoong had mentioned their new plans with you on Friday night.

No one had complained when he had first told them, as the idea had been nothing less than perfect. What better way to show you off to the others than at Illusion? But then Hongjoong had let it slip that your friend would be joining them in the endeavor.

Hongjoong nodded. “I think we might have misjudged him. He certainly seemed very interested in our relationship with her.”

He remembered the way your friend had referred to him in the beginning, a reflection of the way you must have referenced them in the past. The way you had immediately freaked out and glanced in his direction terrified he might have overheard you all but clarification of it. Of course, your attempt at hushing your friend had failed. His senses were far superior than your own and he had caught every word that had come out of each of your mouths, even the ones you had whispered in return.

“And what exactly does that mean?” There was a venom in Yeosang’s voice, still clearly upset over the fact you had declined his invitation to come over in favor of the very man they were currently talking about. The very man who was still alone with you inside your apartment one floor down.

“It means he has far more interest in us than he does with her.”

You may have attempted subtly in your attraction to them, but your friend had not. Not only had Hongjoong been acutely aware of the way his eyes had traversed his figure more than once, but also of the way his pulse had quickened when he had finally approached; a telltale sign of the attraction he also felt towards him.

“Oh,” Yeosang chuckled, collapsing back down on his couch. It didn’t quite make up for the fact you had still chosen him over them for the night - something you would not be doing again - but it did help lighten the urge he had to go down the one floor to your room and toss him out, if he didn’t kill him first. “How does he smell?” He had gotten brief hints of the man’s scent since he had arrived hours earlier, but had been unable to exactly pinpoint it between the others that filled the building.

“Does it matter?” Seonghwa’s brow raised, swirling the glass in his hand. Haru’s blood had used to be his favorite, but he had gotten a strong whiff of your own earlier. He had gotten subtle hints of it the night before, but it was much stronger tonight; the former vampire’s scent slowly dissipated with time. It was enough to make his current drink now less than desirable, wishing he didn’t have to wait a few more days for your system to purify itself.

“I guess not.” Yeosang shrugged, mind trailing to a similar train as Seonghwa’s. Out of all of them, he struggled the most with your growing scent and fought the fangs that threatened to come out each time he caught it. “But it does make the experience all the more enjoyable if and when we find the need to get rid of him.”

“Perhaps, but our best use of him is alive at the moment,” Hongjoong replied, setting down his own drink. He had thought spending the day with you would be advantageous, and it was, but even he had been fighting the urge to take you right there in the bookstore. You had gotten so flustered in the end, your scent had become nearly overwhelming, even with the other vampire’s covering parts of it. “He’s made it quite clear that he’s attempting to set her up with one of us.” And the way his teasing had gotten you all riled up, told him you didn’t mind. Not really.

“Really?” Wooyoung’s head cocked. “That’s a new one.” Their very nature was designed to attract humans to them; everything from their physical appearance to the scent of their blood was created to lure in their prey with little effort. The man should have been fighting to get closer to them himself, not encouraging others.

“Does that mean we’re going to let him come?” Mingi looked up from his phone, frowning slightly as he took in the latest text message from you in a new light with the information Hongjoong had just provided. The smiley face you had included in your goodnight message now very possibly having been done by the boy hanging out with you and not yourself.

“I don’t see why not.” Yunho shifted beneath Mingi as he replied, the smile he sent down in his direction clearly stating he had come to the same conclusion as Mingi had over the text message he had boasted over a few moments ago. “I for one, would be more than happy to see just how flustered we can get her through him.”

“I don’t think Yunjin and Jiwoon would mind either,” Hongjoong added, mentioning the current owners of Illusion. “They’ve always had a fondness towards pretty things.”

“I don’t know,” San wasn’t entirely convinced. “I don’t really feel like having to share her attention any more than I already have to.” 

“Sannie, she’ll be so drugged up on our blood, I doubt she’ll even remember he’s there, let alone that he even exists,” Seonghwa replied, putting the younger vampire’s mind at ease. “And if he’s as pretty as Hongjoong says, then his attention will quickly be pulled elsewhere as well. Though,” his eyes flashed in Hongjoong’s direction, “I would make it well known another incident like the one before is completely out of question if he’s as useful as you say he is.”

“After what you did last time, I highly doubt they’ll make the same mistake again,” Hongjoong laughed, remembering the onslaught his oldest friend had gone on after discovering one of Yunjin’s members had accidentally killed Seonghwa’s favorite human at the time, only for him to return the favor tenfold. “He was their favorite, remember?”

“Are we settled then?” Jongho asked, face buried in the jacket you had left in Hongjoong’s car from earlier. Wooyoung was also curled up close by, head leaning against his shoulder as he breathed in what pieces of your scent he could gather from it. “Because it’s already late and we still have quite a bit more to discuss.”

The purpose of tonight’s meeting was supposed to discuss how exactly they were going to handle your transition over to them throughout the upcoming days as well as the vampire that was bound to come calling tomorrow night when he noticed the card Hongjoong had left without your knowledge, but one mention of the man currently with you was all it took to get them off track before the meeting had even begun.

For once, everyone was in agreement with the plan. San and Yeosang weren’t entirely happy with the idea, though the latter was just still upset by being rejected earlier, but there was little resistance from either when it came down to it. Yunho had brought up a great point, after all, and if that didn’t work, then they could just do as Hongjoong had suggested and use your friend to make you jealous instead. Nothing would leave you craving their attention more than the sudden loss of it. They knew that from experience. 

But in the end, it didn’t matter. One way or another, come Friday night, the transition would be complete and you would be completely theirs. And there was nothing you or your little friend could do about that.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglists will be in reblogs :)

[fizzydrink698]

victory | chan

kinktober day 7: balcony sex

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count: 3.2k

genre: royal au, villain!chan

warnings: swearing, sexual content (fingering, unprotected sex), semi-public sex, possessive themes, dark-ish? dark-adjacent? they do not like each other but it’s a mutual thing

summary:

That wasn’t how it usually went between the two of you. It was always hurried, rough, barely any words exchanged. And you liked that – you liked that you always seemed to catch Chan unprepared. You liked that he resented the effect you had on him. He could spend hours talking about discipline on the battlefield and the harsh standards he set upon his men, and yet two minutes with you had his resolve crumbling.

This wasn’t that. This was slow, carefully planned and executed with purpose. This was Chan trying to assert control, trying to prove a point. 

The war was over.

Chan had won.

Those two sentences repeated themselves in your head, over and over again, as you stood on the castle balcony and stared out across the lands that Chan had conquered. The sun was setting, so very close to plunging the landscape into the darkness of night, but you could still make out the huge plume of smoke just on the horizon.

The site of the war’s final battle. The field on which Chan had cut off his enemy’s head and declared himself the rightful king. The place of his greatest victory.

The bodies had piled so high that even now, hours later, they still weren’t finished burning them.

The setting sun also brought a dramatic drop in temperature that had you shivering. Your new clothes weren’t made for cold weather – every single item in your wardrobe was made of paper-thin silks, cut to display as much skin allowed in semi-respectable society.

You wondered if it could be a security tactic. If you tried to escape the castle in these, you’d freeze to death in the mountains within a night or two.

Perhaps. But you imagined it ranked second to Chan’s greater interest in seeing you exposed. In every sense of the word.

“There you are.”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes.

You couldn’t avoid him forever, but you’d at least hoped for a night of peace to disentangle your thoughts.

Maybe that was exactly why Chan sought you out so often and so regularly. It served him better if your judgement remained clouded, if your defences were still weak and your body still easily influenced.

“…You did it,” you noted, very careful to keep your voice light.

“Is that how you address your king?” Chan asked, and it was a testament to his good mood that he genuinely sounded like he was joking. Mostly.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze for a moment. That was the most defiance you were willing to risk showing him, holding eye contact for just a heartbeat before bowing your head. “You did it, Your Majesty.”

Victory agreed with him. He’d always been confident, never showed even a shadow of a doubt that he would fail in claiming his throne, but there was a new radiance to him now that his convictions had been rewarded. He stood taller, old tensions had melted away and left him looking relaxed, at ease, almost swaggering.

“Did you ever doubt I could?” Chan asked, and you wondered if even he could hear the subtle challenge in his tone. Maybe not. There was a genuine-looking smile on his face as he spoke.

You made sure to maintain eye contact when you replied. “No. No, I didn’t doubt it.”

You wanted to let him see in your eyes that you were being honest. You never doubted him. That was why he alarmed you so much in the first place.

Chan tilted his head slightly, and before you turned back to watch the sunset, you caught the briefest glimpse of his eyebrows lifting in surprise.

You felt him close in on you from behind, reaching forward to press a hand against your exposed back as he stared out over your shoulder at his new lands.

You wished you didn’t like his touch. It would have made life so much easier.

“It’s weird. This is all I’ve worked towards, and now I’ve done it. I’ve won,” Chan said, right in your ear. “It’s hard to think about what comes next.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something, Your Majesty.”

“And what about you? What will you do now?” Chan asked, oh-so-casually.

The ‘correct’ answers, the answers that would massage his ego and protect whatever position you’d scraped for yourself here, soured on your tongue. The thought of just telling Chan what he wanted to hear grated at you.

So, instead, you smiled.

“Perhaps I’ll settle down. Find a nice innkeeper, get married. Pop out a few kids. A nice quiet life.”

You felt his hand on the small of your back curl into a fist.

Oh, he did not like that idea. Chan might have learned how to govern a kingdom, but he was still yet to master the concept of sharing his toys.

“No, you won’t,” he told you, with a tone that invited no room for question. “You’ll stay here with me.”

“Oh, will I?”

You felt him huff in annoyance, his breath tickling your ear. You had become something of an expert in pushing Chan’s buttons, and old habits died hard.

To your surprise, Chan didn’t press the issue – and instead turned his attention elsewhere.

“I should have dressed you up sooner,” he mused. “This look suits you.”

You could tell just how much he thought it suited you. His hand roamed over every inch of bare skin, his knuckles dragging upwards along your spine.

Maybe the cold weather had its advantages. It was something to blame for the shivers that ran down your body at his touch.

He stepped closer, trapping you between his body and the parapet of the balcony. He dropped his chin to rest on your shoulder, an uncharacteristically affectionate move.

Again, it was incredible what winning a drawn-out, bloody war could do for a man’s mood.

“I want you with me, tomorrow,” he told you, and that surprised you. Chan had been very careful to keep you distanced from him in public. It was a bad look in front of the war council, fraternising with a former enemy.

And yet, while the war might have been over, it still seemed a questionable decision to parade you around so openly.

“That’s bold,” you pointed out, unsure of what else to say.

“I don’t care,” he stated, blunt. The hand on your back slid around your waist, towards your front, and began to drift upwards, almost lazily, to press against the curve of your breast. “I want you in the procession. I want you with me when they finally put that crown on my head.”

You didn’t like this new tenderness. Something about it chafed at you, something that just felt slightly off.

That wasn’t how it usually went between the two of you. It was always hurried, rough, barely any words exchanged. And you liked that – you liked that you always seemed to catch Chan unprepared. You liked that he resented the effect you had on him. He could spend hours talking about discipline on the battlefield and the harsh standards he set upon his men, and yet two minutes with you had his resolve crumbling.

This wasn’t that. This was slow, carefully planned and executed with purpose. This was Chan trying to assert control, trying to prove a point. That point was undermined just slightly by the way his dick was pressing against your rear, already half-hard despite the fact that you’d barely done more than stand there and murmur a few sentences – but still, his attitude rankled you all the same.

So, you continued to stare straight ahead, perfectly unruffled as you spoke. “Is that a command?”

You felt Chan tense, perhaps in surprise, but more likely in irritation. You could practically hear the way his jaw set, teeth gritting together. “I don’t need to command you. You want to be by my side.”

“I already told you what I want,” you reminded him. “Quiet life. Innkeeper. I don’t recall mentioning you at any point–”

“Stop it,” Chan demanded.

“You stop. All of this, whatever it is.”

“…I’m trying to be nice,” Chan said, defensively.

You raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t suit you.”

His grip tightened, harshened.

Maybe it said something about you when that was what sent the first real thrill through your body since Chan first stepped onto the balcony.

“You’re the only one who thinks that way,” he argued, and his tone was almost accusatory. Clearly, you’d stumble across another button of his to push.

“Maybe I’m just special,” you remarked. “Or maybe no one else is brave enough to say it to your face. Behind your back, though…”

“Stop.”

“Make me.”

Your words settled over him, just as biting as you’d meant them.

And just like that, the façade of self-control dropped from him in an instant. Burying his face in your neck, Chan palmed roughly at your breast. Thanks to the thin scrap of fabric some tried to call a dress, the heat and friction of his hand sent shocks of pleasure through you just as easily as if you’d been naked.

His other hand snaked up your skirts, and your breath caught when he cupped you through your underwear.

“I should have known,” Chan hissed, feeling the increasing dampness of the fabric. “I wanted to be gentle. I thought you might appreciate the effort.”

He punctuated his sentence with a rough swipe at your clit, making your body jerk backwards, away from the sudden stimulation – and right into his body, against his hardening cock.

There was something revealing about his words. You’d never – not once – done anything to suggest you wanted softness from Chan.

But maybe he liked the idea of you secretly pining for it, silently wishing for kind words and gentle touches and romance.

That was interesting. Completely and totally incorrect, but interesting.

“But you ruined everything, just like you always do,” Chan continued, sliding his hand into your underwear. There was undeniable anger in his voice, and it only excited you more, especially when he started to trace circles around your clit. “Don’t you?”

“Are we going to stand around and chat all night?” You asked, closing your eyes, refusing to take the bait. “I’m not in the mood to be bored.”

Chan’s response didn’t come with words, but with action. Removing his hand from your breast, he instead planted it onto your shoulder and pushed you down. Your arms flew out, grabbing onto the parapet of the balcony for balance, the rough stone scraping against the delicate skin of your forearms.

Still, the pain barely registered against the delight you took in making Chan lose his self-righteous airs. He wasn’t special, he wasn’t better than anyone else, he was filthy and angry and wanted to fuck like that.

His hand slipped out of your underwear to grab at it, the material bunching in his fist, and he tried to yank it down. In his eagerness, the delicate fabric tore, falling to your ankles as soon as he released his grip.

You half-expected him to return his attention to your clit. He liked to be rough with it, because it was the only way he could unravel you the same way you did him. Instead, in the quiet of the evening, you heard the obscene sound of Chan’s mouth wrapping around his own fingers, sucking impatiently.

And then the first, his middle finger, pressed at your entrance. You pushed your hips back, just in case he tried to tease you, forcing the digit inside you with ease.

“Always impatient,” Chan muttered, but you barely paid attention. If he was trying to sound resentful, it was buried under the hunger of his tone as his finger slid in and out so easily. He added a second, and your eyes closed at the feeling, at the sharp pace he was setting.

Your breaths quickened, your lips parting even as you forced yourself to keep quiet. You could only imagine how sound could travel in the open air like this.

“What am I even doing here?” Chan asked, his question probably more aimed at himself than at you. “I could be celebrating downstairs with my men. Why am I here with you?”

“Because you’re…” you trailed off for a second, voice gone as Chan curled his fingers inside of you. You took a moment to compose yourself, and managed to give your response with your dignity intact. “Because you’re desperate.”

“I’m desperate?” Chan repeated, and the hand pressing down on your shoulder lifted, moving to your hip instead, fingers digging into the flesh there. “You’re fucking yourself on my fingers, and you want to call me desperate?”

Your eyes snapped open. His words took a moment to settle over you, poking at that defiant little part of you, that contrary part of you that bristled at the very thought that you might have shown weakness. That you might do anything in your interactions with Chan but win.

So, with great willpower, you forced your body to still. You turned your head to look at Chan, unable to hide the malice in your stare, and smiled at him. “Alright. Leave, then.”

Chan halted, and you were so glad you chose to look him in the eye when you said that, just so you could enjoy the way you had caught him off-guard. “…What?”

“Go ahead. Go celebrate with your men,” you challenged him. “If you’re not desperate.”

He stared at you, entirely frozen. You wondered if this might be the first time anyone had ever spoken to him like that, had ever called him on his bluff so directly. Despite how hard he was, how much he was pressing against your thigh, you genuinely thought for a second that he might do just that. Just to save face.

And then, with a look of pure hatred, the kind of hatred that could only be drawn from the proudest of men brought low and humbled, Chan began fumbling with the laces of his breeches.

“I hate you,” he hissed, and again you weren’t sure if he was telling you that or himself. “Every time, every time, I…”

Whatever he was about to say, it was lost the moment he managed to pull himself free from the confines of his breeches. You felt the way his hands were nearly shaking – from hatred? From arousal? Both? – as he lined himself up with your entrance.

His first thrust was stilted, slowing to a stop halfway as your body tried to accommodate such a sudden intrusion. There was an undeniable sting, a familiar hint of dull pain that at this point you almost embraced as an old friend. Your liaisons with Chan were never about the foreplay – you liked him hurried, frantic, moaning inside of you. That was the appeal.

Chan, to his credit, reached for your clit immediately, and you soon had no trouble letting his entire length fill you, right to the hilt. He kept his hand there, playing with you, and you couldn’t tell if he was doing so for your benefit, or if he just liked the feeling of you twitching and clenching around him.

It didn’t take him long to lose whatever shreds of self-restraint he had left, his free hand slipping under you to grab hold of your breast again, his arms around you tightening as he grew rougher, faster.

“Fuck, you’re…you’re never goi – ah, going anywhere,” Chan choked out, between groans, letting his head loll back. His volume was only increasing with every thrust, moans starting to tumble from his lips freely.

Chan had never been good at keeping quiet. A fact that usually amused – and maybe, just slightly, you might admit aroused – you, but considering where you were, who might be below you…

“People will hear you,” you warned, voice tight, even as your body met him move-for-move.

Chan leaned over you, breath ragged in your ear. “And if they do? I’m king. Let them.”

He knew. He knew no one would be brave enough to say anything. He knew exactly what he could get away with now.

You thought about all those nobles having to bite their tongues, having to keep silent and smile at you, or else risk Chan’s wrath. You’d be lying if the idea wasn’t just a little gratifying, a little tempting.

Chan shifted again, pulling you upwards, crushing you into his chest – and this angle hit something deep and deliciously intense inside of you. You choked on a moan, your hands scrabbling for something to hold onto, finally settling for gripping his forearms tightly.

Between that and Chan’s continued attentions to your clit, a wave of sensation began to build in the pit of your stomach.

You squeezed your eyes shut, rocking against him, chasing this feeling. Everything in you tightened, overloading your senses, stripping everything away that wasn’t you and Chan and your own harsh breathing and writhing and white-hot pleasure between your legs and this knot of tension in your gut just squeezing and squeezing and squeezing and…

You came, choking on your moan, your whole body shaking. Chan didn’t relent, not even for a second, almost in a frenzy. You rode out your orgasm as best you could, but it was so hard to when Chan refused to ease up for even a second. A petty little bit of revenge, probably, for all you’d said. He wanted you to beg for mercy, he wanted you brought low and under his control like everyone and everything else. There was something to be said about a man with an inferiority complex deep enough to kill half a kingdom for.

Whatever was driving him, it had you squirming under his touch, body torn between chasing the pleasure his touch brought or pulling away from this onslaught on your hypersensitive clit.

It was clear he wouldn’t stop until you admitted defeat - or until he climaxed himself. His increasingly loud groans suggested the second wasn’t far off, if you could only push him that little bit further.

One half-formed thought floated into your head, a memory of your earlier musings. Chan thinking that you wanted him nice, thinking you were hiding something tender and vulnerable and yearning for him, a belief somisguided that….

Well, it was so out of touch with reality that you couldn’t help but think it might be…

Was Chan projecting?

With few other options, and overstimulated to the point that rational thought had long since abandoned you, you decided to test that theory.

You leaned back into his chest, relaxing just slightly – nothing so obvious as melting into his arms, just something subtle. An almost…softening, if you will.

Your head turned, nose brushing the column of his throat. Between breaths, you pressed a kiss to his neck and let the smallest of whimpers leave your mouth, just loud enough for him to catch.

Chan’s pace stalled, hips jolting and almost bucking into yours, and this spurred you to draw your final weapon.

With the softest voice you can muster, gentle and shaking and unguarded, everything you knew Chan wished to hear, you murmured. “Chan.”

His resulting moan seemed almost punched out of him, his body shuddering, and Chan came inside of you with one final thrust. He stood there, clutching you tightly in his arms, muscles almost trembling as he squeezed you.

You felt him drop his forehead to your shoulder, panting heavily, refusing to let go for even a moment.

Your theory proved correct – although what you did with this information now was beyond you. It filled you with a strange sense of flattery, and deep cold dread.

Chan pressed the softest of kisses to your shoulder blade, and finally spoke, voice low and heated against your skin. “Fuck what you want. You’re not leaving. Ever.”

He kissed your shoulder again, only this time his lips parted, and he sucked a bruise into your skin, so deep that it ached with every heartbeat. A mark. His mark.

You stood there on the balcony, looking out over Chan’s new kingdom as the sun finally sank below the horizon, and only then did you realise just how deeply you might be fucked.

[nahoney22]

Hey I just hopped onto the bad batch fan wagon and I absolutely love ur blog! <3 I was wondering if I could request a little something about tech x reader who lost a limb/arm during battle or on a mission and he makes her a robotic prosthetic and routinely does maintenance or upgrades on it and each visit brings them closer until they realize they love eachother?

Optimisation

Tech X F!Reader

word count: 2.8k

When you lost your arm,you almost gave up hope. No longer feeling like yourself, you didn’t know what to do. But, when Tech introduces you to a prosthetic, both of your relationships take a turn for the better.

warnings: fluff and slight angst, friends to lovers, mentions of anxious and emotional reader, loss of limb. Reader is a little reluctant at first to having a prosthetic and is standoffish. Talks about feelings. Subtle cutesy glances and touches etc. female reader. Not proofread.

authors note: I’m so sorry for the delay. Lost in my inbox 😭 enjoy. Also notices you said ‘her’ in the request so assumed it was female reader??? Anyway, enjoy! 🤍

Your mind was swirling in a sea of thoughts. Most churned with memories of the mission that had forever changed you and some thought being nothing at all.

Perched on the edge of a small cliff, your gaze swept over the picturesque landscape, offering a fleeting moment of respite.

The loss of your arm had been an abrupt, harrowing experience, a fragmented blur that you could scarcely piece together. With one arm gone, a pervasive sense of uselessness had crept into your existence. You questioned your relevance in the squad – what purpose did you now have? How could you possibly help anyone?

Suddenly, a voice disrupted the chaotic maelstrom of your thoughts. You didn't turn to face him, but you recognised it was Tech.

"Ah, there you are," he remarked as he approached, standing beside you, his presence felt more than seen.

"Here I am," you mumbled, not particularly interested in conversation. It wasn't that you harbored any ill feelings toward Tech or your comrades for that matter; you were simply weary of being treated like fragile glass. Tech however, in his own characteristic manner, had always been rather direct in his approach.

"I'm here to assess you," he stated matter-of-factly.

Your brows furrowed in mild confusion, and you turned your gaze toward Tech, who was engrossed in his datapad. "...For what?"

"Just an annual routine check," he replied, raising his eyes from the screen. "But, given your recent loss of limb, it's essential to make this assessment more comprehensive."

You heaved a heavy sigh, momentarily glancing away. This was the last thing you felt like dealing with, but deep down, you understood it needed to be done. You pushed yourself to your feet and turned to face Tech, who began to examine you, asking questions about your health and emotional state. Your responses were typically laced with bluntness and sarcasm, which seemed to go over Tech.

Yet, his examination was momentarily halted when he noticed you involuntarily flinch as he approached the space where your arm had once been, now left hauntingly vacant.

Tech observed your flinch and remarked, "You're flinching, yet you have nothing to flinch for."

You responded with a deadpan stare, then shifted your gaze to where your arm used to be, saying with sarcasm, "Oh no, where did that go?" This earned you a disapproving frown from Tech.

"I will note that down as sarcasm," Tech said, inputting data into his device, while you rolled your eyes in response.

"Are we done now?" you inquired, eager to be done with the examination.

Tech nodded, replying, "Yes, for now. I want you to come find me in a few hours. I have an idea." His words held a hint of mystery, leaving you curious. Before you could inquire further, Tech had already turned and left. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret for your earlier tone, but you were indeed worn out. Nonetheless, you couldn't help but wonder what he had in store for you.

As the hours passed, the rest of the squad departed for a supply run, and though Wrecker had offered you the opportunity to join them rather enthusiastically, you weren't quite up to it. Not just yet. But Tech had stayed behind so instead, you decided to explore Tech's request.

"Hey," you called out as you entered the Marauder's cockpit. Tech had his back to you, but he swiveled the pilot chair around to face you. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw what he held in his hands – a prosthetic arm.

"What's that?" you inquired, feeling a surge of nervousness.

"I've created an arm for you," Tech replied in his usual matter-of-fact tone, seemingly unaware of the reluctance evident on your face.

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably, and your palm grew clammy. "Oh, Tech... I'm not sure about this," you admitted, hesitating.

Tech lowered the prosthetic arm and arched an eyebrow at your apprehension. "But you are evidently unhappy about missing an arm, yes? Having a new one should be a suitable replacement."

You were torn. Undoubtedly, you yearned for your arm, but the idea of an artificial one felt invasive. Tech finally picked up on your reluctance, reading the uncertainty in your eyes.

"I suggest you take a seat, and we can discuss this together. It's just a prototype for now. Once we secure more income from Cid, I can enhance it," Tech reassured, adopting a more empathetic tone.

You silently took a seat across from Tech, perched on the edge of the chair as he scooted a bit closer. "I took the liberty of assessing Echo's cybernetic as a base plan," he explained.

"Are you going to give me a scomp link too?" you questioned, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"That is a choice that is up to you," Tech replied, very gently rolling up your sleeve to assess the area. "Would you like one, similar to Echo's?"

"Is it bad if I say no?" you muttered, apprehension evident. Tech glanced up at you briefly and then shook his head. "Like I said, it is primarily your choice."

With efficient precision, Tech attached the prosthetic arm. You couldn't bring yourself to look at it. "Inform me on how it feels," he requested.

You remained in silence, feeling the weight of this sudden change press upon you. The experience felt unnatural, and you weren't prepared for the emotional shift it brought. Tears welled up in your eyes, and your throat tightened.

"You need to speak for me to—" he began to say, but then stopped as he saw a single tear slowly roll down your cheek. "Is it hurting? Uncomfortable?" He asked, panicking slightly.

You sniffled and confessed, "No, I... I don't know. I don't know how to feel, how it should feel."

Tech clicked his tongue as the realisation dawned that he might not fully comprehend your emotional state. He considered what Hunter might do in this situation and then carefully reached out, placing a somewhat awkward yet comforting hand on your knee. "If it's too much, we can revisit this another day. I should have been more transparent during the assessment earlier."

Wiping away a tear, you looked at his hand on your knee and then up at him, a mix of gratitude and regret in your eyes. "I'm sorry. You put in so much effort—"

"This was actually relatively straightforward," Tech assured with a hint of fondness, acknowledging his own exceptional skills. "But after twenty-two rotations of you missing your arm, I should have waited a bit longer or offered you this solution earlier."

This time, you managed a smile and watched as he carefully removed the prosthetic. As he packed it away in its case, you said nothing more. However, when you stood to leave, you hesitated and turned back to him.

"Tech?"

"Yes?" he responded.

"Can we try again? Maybe tomorrow?"

He turned to you and offered a faint, reassuring smile. "Of course. Come and find me whenever you are ready.”

Late in the evening, much later than anticipated, the following day, you mustered up the courage to face Tech. Wearing a sheepish smile, you found him alone in the cockpit. "I must say I wasn't expecting you to show up today," he greeted you as you took a seat across from him.

"I have to admit, I wasn't sure if I was going to show up either," you confessed. "I had to psyche myself up."

"Very well, let's get to it," Tech replied, reaching for the prosthetic arm that he had tucked away under a control panel. You quietly observed that he had been clearly tinkering with it today as it looked slightly different from the last time you saw it – this time it had a hand.

"May I?" Tech gestured to your sleeve, and with a nod, he rolled it up. You glanced away as he manually attached the prosthetic, still not fully comfortable with looking at the stump that remained. It was a bit fidgety this time, but you felt no pain.

"Now, how does it feel?" Tech repeated the question from yesterday. Slowly, you turned your attention to the new addition to your body.

"I don't know," you admitted.

He raised an eyebrow. "Can you enlighten me about the weight? Is there a perfect counterbalance, or...?"

You attempted to move the arm, but it was just a small, feeble motion. Deep in concentration, you struggled to get your brain to sync with your new limb. This time, Tech noticed your disappointment. "A simple alteration will do the trick, I assure you."

"Don't worry, I trust you," you reassured him softly, causing Tech to pause at your words.

"You do?" he asked, sounding somewhat surprised as he turned his attention to you.

You nodded, your sincerity apparent. "Well, yeah? Of course, I do. I'm... I'm very grateful for you doing this. You didn't have to."

A warm smile graced Tech's face as he fidgeted slightly with his tools. "No, but I wanted to. You've done a lot for us since you joined our squad. It's only fair that I give you something in return." He leaned in to assess the arm once more, ensuring the measurements were precise.

As Tech's deft fingers worked on your new arm, you couldn't help but feel something different. The proximity was unusual yet not unwelcome, and you found yourself intrigued. Has he always been this handsome? Breaking the silence that had fallen between you, you asked, "Have you always been good at this kind of stuff, or do you have expertise in other areas?"

Tech replied quietly, "I've always been good at everything. But statistics and data have always been what I've excelled in the most. This isn't second nature to me, so don't worry. You're in good hands."

"I can tell," you responded softly. This time, he looked at you, and the proximity between your faces caught both of you off guard. His eyes searched yours as he tried to decipher your thoughts and feelings, while he felt a strange fluttering feeling in his chest, “you've always been good to me.”

He gulped but he held your gaze a moment longer before turning his attention back to his work. Tech cleared his throat once more and tried to refocus on the work at hand, yet the distraction had left its mark. "I see that some of the measurements are a little off, so I will have to a-alter it again," he explained, sitting up and looking at you. The subtle stutter in his words caught your attention, and you found it surprisingly endearing.

You nodded in agreement, your heart racing a bit faster than you'd anticipated. "That's fine."

As the prosthetic was removed, you stood up, and to your surprise, so did Tech. The closeness was undeniable, and your breath hitched as you looked up at his tall, slender frame. Was he always this ridiculously handsome? Was it merely a fleeting feeling because of his help with the new arm, or had there been something underlying all along?

You intended to thank him, but in that moment, you caught him looking at your lips. Or so, you thought you did. Was the lights playing tricks on you or were you that delusional? But as the awkwardness lingered, Tech quickly realised his gaze had strayed and cleared his throat. "Same time tomorrow?" he suggested, avoiding direct eye contact.

You took a step back, creating some much-needed space between you, and nodded. "Uh, y-yes, sure." Your own stutter surprised you, and to avoid any further awkwardness, you retreated to your bunk. What on Kamino was happening?

Tech had worked miracles in just a few days, tirelessly devoting every waking moment to helping you adjust to your new prosthetic. And today was no exception as he had you practicing with various types of equipment.

"Tech, I think I've got the hang of it. I don't need to hold a holopad every five minutes," you protested.

"Repetition leads to full optimisation. So, do as you're told," he instructed, his gaze fixed intently on you through the rings of his goggles.

"Yes, sir," you replied, playfully rolling your eyes. You both avoided addressing what had happened the other day when you caught him gazing at your lips. Nevertheless, your attraction to him had grown, and he had become more than just a friend in your heart.

Spending so much time together, you had picked up on each other's quirks, likes, and dislikes. You had a genuine camaraderie, and you both had fun in each other's company. Tech made you feel normal, and it wasn't just the feeling of a comrade giving you an arm; it was the warmth of a friend, and perhaps something more, offering you some hope and happiness.

"What are you thinking about?" Tech asked, interrupting your reverie.

"Honestly?" you asked, your new prosthetic arm flexing up and down as your fingers tapped absently at a datapad, giving you an air of importance. "You."

Tech had picked up some tools as he continued to monitor your progress with the prosthetic. He was working on other projects simultaneously, but your words caught him off guard, and he stumbled slightly, dropping the tools to the floor. "Oh, well, is that a recurring thought… or something new?" he asked, his response laced with awkwardness as he fixed his clumsiness and pushed his goggles up his nose.

You shrugged, your nonchalance masking the true depth of your feelings. "I guess it's new... I'm just enjoying your company." Your heart pounded with a meaning that transcended the words. "And I don't know where to start on how to repay you for the arm."

"Nothing to repay," Tech replied sincerely, his voice a touch shy. He added, "I suppose,” he pauses for a second, hesitant for the first time in a long time, but goes ahead, “being in your company is enough for me, too."

Much like the other day, and sometimes throughout the days in between him fixing your arm, you both find yourself looking at each other. Really looking. Your eyes meet and it’s as if words were slowly being exchanged over, expressing how both of you were feeling in that moment.

However, Tech grappled with his feelings, unsure how to express them. He wasn't well-versed in emotions, and these thoughts about you were entirely new to him. He questioned if these inclinations were normal, the desire to kiss you, and the mere notion felt alien because he had never encountered such thoughts before. His brain was designed for well, anything but this. Not for pondering if a girl liked him.

"Have you ever felt scared before?" The question caught Tech off guard, making him think deeply.

"Yes, yes, I have actually," he admitted, surprising you. You raised a curious eyebrow.

"Mind telling me?" you asked gently, watching as his knee began to bounce restlessly.

He shifted his position and turned slightly away from you, an uncharacteristic shyness creeping over him. "It was quite recent. To be more precise, it was the mission in which you lost your arm."

You whispered a soft "oh" in response, feeling a mix of emotions as he continued to speak.

"You've always been a strong presence in this squad. Although you might not be as intelligent as I am, you're smart. You're well-trained in combat, you're good to Omega, and you're good to all of us," he explained, focusing on a small task in his hands rather than looking at you. "I feared that with you losing your arm, you would feel at a disadvantage. I suppose I was scared of you losing yourself. That's why I created the arm."

Tech's confession left you somewhat speechless, and his avoidance of eye contact spoke volumes. "You really care about me?" you asked, seeking confirmation.

He stilled, and you could see him swallow hard. "I do. Though, I feel that I care about you more than just a comrade. More than a friend." His words were careful, yet they carried a depth of meaning that you understood. He loved you, and you felt the same way.

With tenderness, you leaned closer, your new arm raising to gently turn his head to face you. There was a small gasp at the touch, but as he looked at you, his gaze focused once more on your lips.

You closed the gap, your lips pressing softly against his in a tender kiss. It was brief, but as you pulled back, Tech surprised you by dropping his tools to the floor once more and cupping your cheeks with both hands, bringing your lips back to his.

In the tender embrace of your kiss, your fingers lightly trailed along the contours of Tech's cheek, eliciting a soft sigh from him. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs tenderly stroking your cheeks as he whispered softly between your lips, "I believe that I… love you."

The warmth of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine as your kiss deepened. Your arms found their way around his shoulders as he used one arm to pull you across and into his lap, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw with a gentle caress. "I believe that I love you too.”

Masterlist

More Tech Works

Tags and those who I think may like : @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz z @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness @zoeykallus

[jomiddlemarch]

for danger is in words 

“My wife’s name is Mary,” he said, first in English, before he noticed and then again in the Portuguese she would understand. There was a something about her face that told him he perhaps hadn’t needed the translation. “Not so different—”

“You did not call me by her name,” Mariko said, a reassurance he should not have needed, but it had been a long time since he’d tumbled a woman and Mariko had touched him in ways he had not imagined, given him pleasure with hands he would have thought devilish clever except for the look in her dark eyes as she’d stroked him. Tenderness and wonder, as if he were precious, an unexpected marvel, not a scarred sea-pilot with manners too rough, too eager, for the subtle Japans.

“’Tisn’t proper to speak of her now, I warrant. After pillowing,” John said, using the term Mariko had. She was a widow, even if not as merry as widow as one would find in London or Amsterdam, so perhaps she had done nothing untoward by her rights, but it didn’t seem polite to hold a woman in his arms, her bare skin more delicate than her silk robe, the taste of her yet in his mouth, and talk of another.

“Men’s tongues wag after congress,” she said. “Unless they sleep.”

“You gave me great joy,” he said. It sounded awkward, formal, but his Portuguese did not run to either poetry or the sweet-talk lovers used, endearments and admissions. Praise was used quite differently here and he didn’t want to risk offending her.

“I thought I must,” she said. “You were very loud.”

He laughed, a low, rumbling chuckle that startled her, a sudden tenseness in her shoulders. He would not have been able to tell if she were wearing her usual robes, standing across from him, but naked, pressed against him, it was undeniable.

“I suppose I was. I offer my most sincere apology if you’d have it,” he said.

“You did nothing wrong. Many cry out at the peak,” she said.

“You did not,” he replied. She had made a very soft sound and he’d felt her body surge around his, her hands tightening on his back, her neck arched. The moonlight through the paper screens had not enough power to give him any color, but he’d felt her flush even if he could not see the roses in her cheeks, the hue of a Tudor blossom down her throat and across her full breasts.

“Did your Mary?” she replied. For once, perhaps, it was not a challenge nor a game whose rules he was meant to discover mid-play. She was curious, about Mary and about English women, about the world he’d left behind. What he’d told her about the Thames had not slaked her thirst but whetted it, but she wanted more than details of a silver river in a filthy city, a jeweled Virgin Queen on her throne. She wanted to know about the bed he’d lain in, conceiving his children, the bedclothes rumpled, the rushes on the floor with their wilting herbs. Mary with her bright chestnut hair unbound, a spatter of freckles across her cheeks, her eyes light. He couldn’t recall their blue anymore.

“Not at first. She was shy, ‘til she learned to like it,” he said.

“To like pillowing?”

“To like make noise. To letting me know I’d pleased her. Or that she wanted more,” he said. Mariko shifted and sated as he was, she stirred him. It would not do to think whether each gesture was studied, a courtier’s or a courtesan’s. He would not know unless she told him and she would not tell him if he asked direct. That at least, he’d learned, how little appreciated was the confrontation, even if his only goal was the discovery of her appetite, her delight. 

“Without you, she is quiet,” Mariko said.

“She is virtuous, a respected matron. Her bed is empty but she is quiet only in that regard. She’s known for her wit, her temper,” he said. Mary would like to be rendered so, even if she sulked to learn he’d shared his bed with another. 

“You miss her,” Mariko said. At least, he heard it thus. The word she chose was one she paused before uttering and he wondered how deficient she found Portuguese to her purpose.

“Less than I ought,” he admitted. “All is dross that is not Helena,” he added wryly, mocking his own inconstancy, ruing the comparison that Mariko posed, in every way lovely and quick, fair and bright and with untold depths he would never plumb.

“I do not understand, Anjin,” she said.

“A line from a play, from home,” he said. “I mean to say, I do my wife a disservice, but one I cannot regret.”

“Because you pillowed with me?”

“’Twas not only such for me,” he said. If he were fluent in her language, still he would struggle to explain to her what he had felt during their coupling, all words platitudes in their attempt to contain the ineffable. He would have felt embarrassed to describe it so except that he felt most himself surrounded by the sea and the horizon, by those things elemental—water and salt, air and star. Something in her answered him, even if it was an aspect she had withdrawn behind her bloody fence, and that was more powerful than any ecstasy.

“To a starving man, a crumb is a banquet,” she said.

“And now I know you have never had a hungry winter,” he replied. He’d had his fair share as a child. He didn’t mention the desperate straits they’d come to before being taken in by the Japans, the men turning in their hammock as if winding their own shrouds about their bony carcasses. “A crumb to a starving man is not a banquet but torture and lying with you was neither feast nor agony.” He leaned in and grazed her temple with his lips, traced the curve of her cheek with his forefinger.

“Sweet,” he murmured.

“You are gentle, Anjin. More gentle than I expected,” she said. He thought of how she’d become very still when he’d brought her palm to his lips and when he’d drawn her close to nestle against him as they rocked together on the cusp of abandonment. He thought of how she’d touched the scars on his back and arm, the ones on his ribs, his belly, the question in her eyes unasked, unconcealed.

“I would have you call me John,” he said. 

“I am not your consort,” Mariko said. 

“That is why I ask. It is not a demand,” he said.

“Only now,” she said. She looked at him and took a breath. Her lips parted, as if invitation. “John.”

“We agreed now is the only time there is,” he replied and pulled her to him, tasting his name on her tongue, sighing the pleasure of it into her mouth and stroking it down her back.

The cry she gave when he brought her to the crest was sharp, like a wheeling gull’s, and so shocking that he spent in the next instant, his groan swallowed into silence. He lay panting, his cock still hard within her, his hand at her waist when she moved to whisper in his ear.

“John. Only now.” 

Shout-out to @aquitainequeen for her post on early 17th century theater and what John could have seen/quoted. I went full-throttle Dr. Faustus, as she suggested he'd had loved that!

[always-is-always]

Insights come, through original content

It's definitely worth the time, to watch as much original content as possible. BIG note to self.

I've watched all four seasons of Bon Voyage, and just finished the four years of Summer Package. Lots of stuff that I have seen bits and pieces of before, in a lot of compilation videos and "analysis" videos. VERY interesting to see all of it within it's original context, in each show.

Yeah, there's a bit of Jikookery as people call it, in some of it. Most of it I had seen out of context, during my first couple of years in the fandom (when I didn't have any idea about anything). There are a few moments here and there that I haven't seen before which are primarily touches, and super subtle stuff.

The interesting thing is how people have taken so many of those moments out of context to support a story that they are presenting, in their compilations or "analysis". Yes, it can be said that other parts of the fandom have done the same thing, for the same purpose.

One of the moments from BV in Malta that everyone has seen comes to mind, here as I type. It is when they are all at a restaurant, and Jimin and Jungkook are seated across from each other. They reach out at the same time, to offer a bite of food to each other. That is a favorite clip that j-kookers love to use, to prove their theory. I mean, I do think it is cute and sweet, and I do believe that Jimin and Jungkook are together (in a closeted relationship), I just think that it's really a disservice when people leave out the other part of that scene. You know, when Jimin is then offering bites of his food to the other members, too. It wasn't just a Jimin and Jungkook thing, like is portrayed in many of the YT videos I have seen...

The other things I noted are how the editing was just so chopped up and discombobulated at times. Like When you see Jimin literally sitting down right next to Jungkook and then suddenly it is edited and next thing you see is Jimin on the opposite side of the group, not sitting where he had just sat down a second before. lol... Yeah, there's a TON of that crappy editing in all of the series and shows. I'm guessing that as they got into 2017, 2018, 2019 that they had to do a lot more editing as Jimin and Jungkook kinda started being more open with their antics. lol...

I kind of understand why people like to create those videos over on YT. There's thousands of them probably, and literally millions of viewers who like that type of thing. I was one who watched a bunch of it, as I mentioned before. It was before I understood what a lot of it was, and before I understood how much manipulation there was.

What's next on tap for me? I'm not sure. There's a ton of content still for me to make my way through. It has been enlightening to say the least. I do see the shift in the way that Jimin and Jungkook were from the early years into 2019, from what I have watched so far. There's so much there that clearly shows that they had particular types of experiences with each other, behind closed doors. I mean, anyone who has ever had a lover would see it in their energy(if you sense or see energy) and in the way that they would touch each other. It is as clear as the sun in the sky.

I can only imagine the complexities that the members had to navigate in their relationships with each other, their communication of how they felt to each other, and in working out HOW to have two members in a close intimate relationship within the group. Talk about a complicated situation. That puts it mildly. No wonder Namjoon had so many moments when they were in front of cameras, audiences, interviewing and such. No freakin' wonder.

Sorry for this long ramble..... I've just been thinking a lot about them and about what I have seen in these shows. Like I have mentioned, I hadn't seen much of the original stuff that was on Weverse, sold on DVD, or behind pay walls. I didn't actually understand what the heck "Summer Package" meant! lol... There's a TON of content that I have still to watch. This will be an ongoing thing for me, during these months while we wait for June 2025. There's probably going to be more rambles like this one, to come.... 😁💜

[multifanhoe99]

Kinktober Day 4- Masturbation

This one was a wonderful suggestion by a lovely Anon! I hope you enjoy it and that it meets your expectations.

Pairings: Non-Idol!Hyunjae w/ mentions pining for his neighbor.

Warnings: Slight perv!Hyunjae, window-watching, solo male action, fantasizes about his neighbor he's been crushing on.

=Let me know if there are any that I missed=

PROMPT LIST

MASTERLIST

18+ MDNI

Every day it was the same thing. He knew your schedule like clockwork. He wasn't trying to be creepy but it just so happened that his bedroom window happened to line up perfectly with yours and your curtains were really see-through. It's been a few years that you two have lived across from each other and the more he got to know you and you have become friends the more he realized that he liked you. He's been wanting to tell you for a while now but just hasn't found the right moment. Although becoming aware of his feelings for you has made certain things very difficult for him.

Before whenever he would see you start to change or get ready for a shower he would close his curtains until he was sure that you were done and fully clothed again. He wasn't even sure that you were aware he could see inside your room but he wanted to be polite. That started changing one day. He wouldn't close the curtains every time claiming to himself that he just wouldn't look or that he was so busy with something else that he didn't notice, but he did. Sometimes he would even go as far as to pretend he was doing work on his laptop but really he was watching you. He wasn't trying to be creepy but god you were so attractive that once he started he couldn't look away. At night after your lights went out and he was sure you were asleep he would stay awake gripping his cock tightly and stroking himself to the thoughts of what he'd like to do to you. He wondered what your skin would feel like under his touch. He wondered what you would sound like moaning his name. Every time he thought about that it would make him so unbelievably hard he would just have to touch himself to get some relief.

Something was different about today though. The weather was warm so he had his window open slightly and when you came home instead of your normal routine you went to your own window to open the curtains and crack the window open. You could see him now and gave him a little wave. He waved back and looked back at the blank docs page he had open on his laptop so that he could continue pretending to be working on something. You had just come back from the gym and he knew that you were probably going to go shower soon but instead of getting ready for a shower, you had another deviation in your usual ritual. Honestly, he thought he was making it up but when you continued he knew he wasn't. There you stood in the middle of your room touching and groping yourself letting out the sweetest of moans. They were better than he could ever have imagined. Then, you started taking off your clothes layer by layer until you were fully naked in front of him. He wasn't sure if you were doing this on purpose but he wasn't going to complain. The longer he watched you the harder he got. He knew it would give it away that he was watching you pleasure yourself but his lust-flooded mind didn't care. He needed to touch himself right now so he closed his laptop and moved it to the side. He reaches down and squeezes his cock over the shorts he was wearing and lets out a long moan himself. He knew you could hear him but he didn't care though he missed the subtle way you smiled knowing that your plan was working and you were in fact doing this on purpose.

After a few strokes over his clothes, he moves his shorts and underwear down revealing his swollen cock. He was so hard he probably could've cum just from listening to your moans but he was determined to make this last as long as possible. He grips his cock letting out a moan at the slight relief and follows the rhythm you have set up for yourself. You both listened to and watched each other both feeding off the other the pleasure clouding your minds. You let slip a moan of Hyunjae's name and that alone almost threw him over the edge. He once again thought that maybe he had made it up until he heard you again, "Y-yes Hyunjae right there please make me cum I am so close." With that, he lost it pumping his fist faster until his cum shot out of his cock covering his hand and shirt. When he finally returns to reality he sees you now wearing a robe to cover yourself and leaning out your window.

"So, did you enjoy the show," you ask with a sly smile.

"Oh most definitely," he says tucking himself away and deciding to clean up later. Then he looks up again, "Would now be a bad time to ask you on a date?"

You laughed and said, "Clean yourself up and pick me up at 8." He should have thought of this a long time ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I had so much fun writing this one honestly. Thank you to everyone who is helping me out with their requests these are really fun. Just letting you all know I am also taking requests for things that are not kinktober related so send in your asks if you got them.

[thedomesticanthropologist]

What would the bg3 companions do if Tav fixed a home-made meal and cleaned up their stuff for them, studio ghibli style?

I had to take quite a bit of time to think on this one because it would vary wildly depending on /when/ this happened. So, I am re-using my favorite scenario that was widely popularized over 20 years ago by the Gundam Wing fandom for fanfiction purposes, and we are going to say:

"The companions find a safe house where they must hole-up for several weeks before a major confrontation/continuing their journey. It provides a needed opportunity for respite and recovery, a moment to breathe in the eye of the storm." timeline: late Act 3

Tav prepares a home-made meal that takes them the entire day to make. Grilled fish fresh from the river, bread from scratch with herbs from the garden folded into it and butter spread across the top. Potatoes from the garden sliced, seasoned, roasted. Chicken caught and killed that very morning and boiled into a stew with pounds of fresh vegetables - and more. Yams, parsnips, salad greens, All they could find in the cellar, in the surrounding abandoned garden and small farmstead they had settled in. The type of meal that filled a table so thoroughly there was almost no place left to sit if one tried to have their meal at the table.

It had been so long since they had a home to care for, and this journey had given precious little time for such things as careful cleaning and cooking. The little cottage was full of delicious smells, a warm fire burned in the hearth and heated the entire space. The companions, who had all been out for the day on various missions, arrived back to find not only this, but more.

All of the clothes laundered, scented with lavender from the garden. All of their armor polished and scrubbed, weapons cleaned, packs tidied. Rooms swept of cobwebs, bedding replaced. Perhaps a little bit of magic had been used, for everything was dry as well as clean. How would they respond?

Gale: Warmth and joy. He breaks out into a huge smile and fills the room with compliments on everything youve done. A stickler for detail and known for his verbosity, he leaves out no single comment nor does he miss the chance to reflect on what each detail reminds him of - his mothers cooking, his home, the soul-brightening joy of fresh bedding pulled tightly over a clean mattress. He would do all of the clean up after dinner, showing his appreciation not only in words but affirming them with his actions as well.

Karlach: She gets choked up. Honestly. "you didnt have to" isnt on her mind at all, shes just incredibly grateful. You get the biggest bear hug and a shuddering voice of gratitude in your ear. It hasnt been just 'so long' since shes had this level of care- she never has. Nothing like this. She will remember this for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short that life may be. You gave her something that healed a part of her permanently.

Wyll: Flushed and flustered. HE would be heavy on the "you shouldnt have- I would have helped! had you only asked-" Embarassed almost, in the way that he responds, as if he feels bad that he hadnt been able to pre-empt this scenario and find a way of doing it for you first. He feels... guilty. Tries to hide it with gratitude. Is a little quieter than usual.

Lae'zel: Asks what you expect in exchange for services rendered. Makes a quip about you being suited for running an inn as much as you are for battle. Clears her plate, then another. Goes a little quiet for a moment. Then: "You didnt need to. A waste of your time to cater to us thusly. (long pause) .... thank you."

Shadowheart: Questions why, wonders if youve done it to soften the blow of some oncoming bad news. Spends most of her time teasing the other companions for their reactions but in a way where its clear that shes guiding them towards more grateful responses. She smiles at you warmly and softly across the table, eyes twinkling. Her gentle teasing of you is filled with subtle offers of repaying the kindness in ways that you will not be able to expect or predict later on so that she may surprise you in kind. Also, to ensure you cannot reject her because you dont know whats coming or when.

Halsin: Very clearly thanks you with direct eye contact. If your relationship is good, he holds both your hands in his and gives them a firm but caring squeeze. All of his feelings are in his eyes and his words are exceptionally heartfelt and to the point. He has no issues with being appreciative or straightforward, and this meant a lot to him. Offers to run your bath for you later, since Gale is doing the dishes. Probably offers to wash your hair. Comes on to you a bit, he cant help it. Heart eyes 1000%

Astarion: Awkward. Uncomfortable. Initially tries to play it off with pomp and flourish, goes to hint that you just wanted to rifle through everyones things while no one was home. Does, actually, double check all of his belongings. You cant fault him for being who he is. Questions you with a deep frown, but waits to do so until he has you cornered in the back of the hallway where he waited for you to come out of the privy. You reassure him, and hes huffy about it. It takes a lot for him to go from accusational to deflated. Laments he cant enjoy the meal you prepared, only to be presented with a live hog in the store room and a bottle of red wine. You didnt forget. He stares, stutters out his gratitude. Does not apologize for grilling you. Body language towards you for the next few days has a distinct affectionate companionability to it. Small genuine smiles half hidden behind wine glasses.

[mononijikayu]

family line.

Sukuna’s betrayal of the Ryomen—and by extension, the descendants of Hiromi—had left a deep, festering wound that never truly healed. The eradication of Ryomen Sukuna was not just a mission; it was a sacred vow that bound the family, a duty that had been passed down through a millennium. People had died for it, people had lived for it. Every generation felt the echo of this vow, this duty a resonant call to action that Itadori Yuuji’s existence as Sukuna’s vessel now urgently beckoned. The family line exists for that very purpose, after all.

GENRE: pre - hidden inventory arc to shibuya arc (1990s to 2010s);

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: family line by conan gray

NOTE: genmei and hiromi both having family issues is so insane. i keep wondering when i write about them, how do they survive? in any case, i think we'd have something we can drink about, if they're real!!! anyway, please enjoy this new chapter!!! :]

masterlist

u s and t h e m

GENMEI WOKE UP BEFORE THE CLAN BELLS COULD RING. A small yawn escaped Genmei's lips, tinged with the faintest trace of annoyance. As her lilac eyes narrowed against the thin slit of the window, the intrusive morning light already spilled into her chamber, disrupting what little rest she had managed to capture. Her body, always prompt in waking, continued to betray her desire for sleep—a constant irritant that had plagued her long before the nightmares of her past had begun to haunt her nights.

Even in her earlier years, sleep had been a fleeting companion. Often, the murmurs of voices in her head would parade through her thoughts relentlessly, echoes of past conversations, or the menacing whispers of the Zenin clan, reminding her of darker times. There were nights when the fear of being thrown back into the pit by one of her own—a punishment all too familiar during her time at the Zenin estate—kept her alert, her senses wired in anticipation of danger.

Sleep had never been her friend. This shared struggle with insomnia was one of the subtle threads that connected her with Satoru. They both bore the scars of their burdens, their responsibilities, and their pasts—factors that mingled and mingled well into the realm of their private sufferings. Yet, despite this kinship in sleeplessness, Genmei often wondered if she would ever experience the simple solace of a good night's rest. But as she slowly rose from her futon, skepticism clouded her thoughts; she highly doubted such peace would ever be hers.

The Mikoto family ethos, deeply ingrained in her since childhood, demanded punctuality and discipline in all aspects of life. If one was deprived of rest, then one would simply have to find time later to recover. Duty came first, always. This principle had steered her through countless difficult days, propelling her out of bed even when her body cried for just a few more moments of reprieve.

Today was no different. There was much to be done—duties that required her attention, decisions that needed her clear-headedness, and younger sorcerers who looked to her for guidance. Letting out another sigh, a soft resignation to the start of yet another long day, Genmei prepared herself mentally for the tasks ahead.

She moved through her morning rituals with practiced ease, each step a reaffirmation of her commitment to her roles, both as a leader within the Jujutsu community and as a mentor. Yet, as she tied her hair back, preparing to face the world, a part of her mind still clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, tonight might be different. Perhaps the night would be kinder, the voices quieter, and sleep would not be such a fleeting stranger. Duty does come first. A Mikoto must not abandon duty.

"Are you awake already, Genmei-sama?" A reverberating voice questioned against the wooden doors in a soft manner. Genmei wonders how Akihiko was able to get rest at all. He always wakes up too early. "Genmei-sama?"

"I'm awake." Genmei responds groggily, blankly staring at the wooden doors. "You can enter."

As the shoji door slid aside with a soft whisper, the space between servant and master diminished, bridging their respective worlds with practiced grace. Mikoto Akihiko stood in the threshold, his presence subtly commanding yet deferential. His attire, an elegant ensemble of white and red robes accented by a dark scarlet haori, spoke of his high rank within the household. His hair, meticulously groomed and gathered into a ponytail with a simple hair string, added to his dignified appearance. As his eyes met Genmei's, he offered her a respectful bow, his head dipping towards the gleaming mahogany floors that reflected the morning light filtering through the rice paper windows.

Hiromi, observing from the side, pursed her lips in a quiet contemplation of the scene unfolding before her. She noted the ease with which Akihiko carried himself, a testament to his years of service and understanding of the household's dynamics. As he straightened, meeting Genmei’s gaze with a serene confidence, Hiromi nodded slightly, a silent acknowledgment of his flawless conduct.

Akihiko then carefully slid a tray across the tatami floor towards Genmei. On the tray was a bowl of cold water, its surface gently perfumed with floating flowers, and beside it lay a washcloth made from the finest silk. The simplicity of the offering belied the thoughtfulness behind its preparation—each element chosen to provide a subtle refreshment and start the day with a sense of serenity.

With a graceful gesture, Genmei raised her hand slightly, silently bidding Akihiko to enter. He moved with quiet efficiency, stepping into the room to place the tray within easy reach of Genmei. His movements were fluid and precise, each step and action measured and full of purpose.

As he settled the tray beside her, Genmei allowed herself a small moment to appreciate the meticulous care with which Akihiko attended to his duties. It was not just in the grand gestures or significant events that his loyalty and value were manifested, but in these small, everyday attentions that he continually proved his dedication to her well-being.

"Good morning, Genmei-sama." Akihiko greeted, slowly entering with the tray in hand. "I was told to bid you awake for the day."

"Everyone's about to wake then?"

Akihiko nodded. "Yes, Genmei-sama. The morning prayers at the shrine would come first, and then breakfast."

"Hm," Genmei says as she starts to wash her hands, her face, her neck and arms with the water. Soon, she takes the wash cloth and starts drying herself. "I wouldn't have expected everyone to be so vigorous."

"How so, Genmei-sama?"

"I kept everyone up for days straight, the elders especially." Hiromi responds, putting away the wash cloth. "I would have thought the elders would finally take the time to sleep."

"Duty does not stop, Genmei-sama. I doubt the elders would want to also miss the opportunity in doing their part."

Genmei laughs as Akihiko slowly reaches for the tray. "I suppose not. They may have lost their voice trying to make their point towards their disagreements. But they're still servants of the clan one way or another."

The council session had been grueling and exceedingly long, but Genmei couldn’t help but find humor in the enduring nature of such discussions, especially given the gravity of the topic at hand.

The matter concerned Itadori Yuuji, the unfortunate boy who now served as the vessel for Ryomen Sukuna, a curse whose name was written in the darkest annals of their clan's history. Given the weight of the issue, it was no surprise that the session had dragged on for hours and hours — to no end.

In the Ryomen clan, discussions held by the elders were typically open to all members, a tradition that had been maintained since the clan's inception. This openness was meant to foster transparency and collective decision-making. However, when it came to matters involving Sukuna, the protocols shifted dramatically.

These discussions were strictly confidential, held behind closed doors, a testament to the sensitive and perilous nature of the subject. No information was allowed to leak, a precaution to prevent any manipulation or interference from external forces.

Sukuna’s betrayal of the Ryomen—and by extension, the descendants of Hiromi—had left a deep, festering wound that never truly healed. The eradication of Ryomen Sukuna was not just a mission; it was a sacred vow that bound the family, a duty that had been passed down through a millennium.

People had died for it, people had lived for it. Every generation felt the echo of this vow, this duty a resonant call to action that Itadori Yuuji’s existence as Sukuna’s vessel now urgently beckoned. The family line exists for that very purpose, after all.

During the session, the division among the clan’s elders was palpable. Half of the prominent members were staunchly against overriding the order of execution. This faction saw no alternative but to eliminate the threat Itadori represented, unwilling to risk the potential resurgence of Sukuna’s full powers.

Their refusal to support Satoru, who had shown a rare leniency towards Itadori, underscored the deep-seated fears and traditionalist views still prevalent among the clan's leadership.

Genmei, ever the strategist, had spent long exhaustive days navigating through the sea of concerns, countering objections with well-reasoned arguments and logical deductions. Her efforts were bolstered by the support of other, more progressive elders and crucially by her aunt Arisu’s authority as the clan leader. Together, they had managed to forge a compromise, albeit a tenuous one, that temporarily aligned the clan’s diverse viewpoints.

Yet, Genmei was no stranger to the undercurrents of clan politics. She was acutely aware that her opposition might be harboring resentments or plotting quietly behind her back. The complexity of clan dynamics, coupled with the stakes involved in dealing with a matter as volatile as Sukuna, meant that alliances were fragile and could shift with little warning.

As she stepped out of the council chamber, the weight of the responsibility felt heavier than ever. Despite the temporary resolution, she knew that the issue was far from settled. The discussions might have ended, but the real work of ensuring the clan’s safety and navigating the precarious situation with Itadori Yuuji was just beginning.

With a slight shake of her head, Genmei allowed herself a brief moment of levity amidst the tension. ‘If politics within the clan were as straightforward as fighting curses, perhaps we’d have less need for such long discussions’, she mused wryly. ‘We’d get all of this done sooner. Less headaches.’

"Has the letter been sent to the office of Gakuganji? About the support to suspend the execution order indefinitely?"

"From what I heard, the decision had been sent to everyone." Akihiko says, taking a small sigh. "But I would not be surprised if he and Zenin are a thorn in your side. They would contest this. Much more so, Gojo dominance."

"The clan leader would most of all scoff at the thought, mayhaps even my foolish uncle." Genmei snickers, her tone nonchalant. "I would not be surprised if I am summoned to Zenin manor today."

Akihiko frowned at her. "It would not be good upon you if you come and see Naobito-sama at all conditions, Genmei-sama."

Genmei’s gaze lingered on Akihiko, noting the unmistakable concern etched across his features. Akihiko had been a steadfast presence in her life, joining her mother’s household many years ago when she had left her maiden home to marry into the formidable Zenin clan.

His loyalty had been unwavering, his service impeccable, and over the years, he had become much more than a mere attendant; he was a confidant, a silent witness to the trials she had endured.

The Zenin clan, known for its ruthless vanity, was a place where familial bonds were often overshadowed by the relentless pursuit of strength. Within the clan's walls, your value was measured strictly by your power, and weaknesses were exploited, not shielded.

Gojo Genmei knew this all too well, having navigated the treacherous waters of Zenin politics. Despite her formidable abilities, she had often found herself appalled by the brutality her family members could exact, even on one of their own.

As a subtle chill traced her spine, Genmei unconsciously clutched her wrists, the memory of past cruelties momentarily resurfacing. Akihiko, ever observant, noticed the small, telling gesture and his frown deepened. He knew much of her pain, having been there through many of her darkest moments, yet he maintained a respectful silence on such matters.

Despite the complications, Genmei understood the necessity of maintaining connections with the Zenin, however fraught they might be. Her lineage was an integral part of her identity, one that she could not simply cast aside, even with the relative freedom her marriage to a Gojo provided. Akihiko, while concerned for her well-being amidst such a toxic environment, also understood this duty, though it never stopped him from worrying.

To speak of them would not only breach his position but could also jeopardize Genmei’s standing within both her natal and marital families. His discretion was as much a shield as it was a sign of his respect for her.

The weight of her responsibilities weighed heavily on Genmei's shoulders as she pondered her next steps. Her expression revealed a mix of determination and slight exasperation, a reflection of the myriad duties pulling her in multiple directions.

She knew all too well the delicate balancing act required between her roles as a clan leader, a sorcerer, and a wife. Each role demanded her attention, yet there were only so many hours in the day, and Genmei felt the strain acutely.

"It's the only way," she reiterated, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she let out a weary sigh. "It would not last long, I should say. I had delayed being home already." Genmei’s voice carried frustration. "I'd rather not seek more headaches in Tokyo. Besides, my husband's quite upset that he didn't get to spend some time with me. Soon enough he'll be busy. Best to settle it now."

"That should be all for now," Genmei said, cutting off any further discussion with a polite yet firm tone. She offered him a soft smile and a nod, signaling that she appreciated his concern but had already made up her mind.

Her attendant, a seasoned elder who had served her faithfully for years, listened with a somber expression.

"Genmei-sama....." he began, perhaps hoping to offer some word of caution or to suggest an alternative, but he was promptly interrupted. “Perhaps—”

The decisions were hers to make, and while she valued the counsel of her trusted servants and advisors, ultimately, the path she chose was one she had to walk herself.

"Now call for the female servants to come and bring me my clothing. I’d like to have something comfortable now," she instructed, her voice gentle yet imbued with an authority that brooked no argument. "Thank you, Akihiko."

The elder gentleman paused for a moment, his face reflecting his deep respect and understanding of his lady's wishes. With a resigned sigh, he bowed his head deeply. "As you say, Genmei-sama," he replied, his voice a mixture of deference and a touch of concern.

As he turned to carry out her orders, Genmei's mind raced ahead to the tasks that awaited her. She needed to return to her family’s estate, to manage the brewing issues within the Zenin clan, and to support her husband in whatever small ways she could from afar. Each responsibility was critical, each demanded her best effort, and Genmei was not one to shirk her duties, no matter how heavy the burden.

Left alone for a moment, she allowed herself a brief pause, a few seconds of quiet respite before she would change into her comfortable clothing and prepare for the journey ahead. In these fleeting moments of solitude, Genmei gathered her strength, fortified her resolve, and readied herself to face the myriad challenges that awaited her.

When he left the room, Genmei could only sigh and look at the window slit.

Genmei slowly stood from her position and started to look out into space.

It was then and only then that the clan bells rang with a loud vigorous echo.

The Mikoto Clan was now awake to the sound of bells in the morning light.

GENMEI THINKS THAT SHE'S TOO SENTIMENTAL THESE DAYS. As Genmei stood alone, her thoughts meandered through the corridors of her past, each memory shaded by the hues of longing. She had come to understand that with each passing year, the weight of grief did not lessen but settled deeper into her bones, a constant reminder of those she had lost along the way. Each loss carved a hollow in her heart, a space that no amount of time could ever fully heal.

She knew that death was as natural as breathing, an inevitable conclusion to the lives of those she cared for. Yet, knowing this did not ease the burden of grief. If anything, it was a stark reminder of the relentless march of time and the finite nature of existence. Over three decades of her life, Genmei had stood by too many gravesites, had murmured too many final goodbyes. The faces of those she longed for often visited her in the quiet moments, their smiles as vivid in her mind as if they were still beside her.

There were indeed times, too many to count, when Genmei yearned to meet her lost loved ones again. To hear their voices, to share just one more moment together. Yet, she recognized that such desires were beyond her control. The tapestry of fate was woven by forces greater than herself, by the gods and the immutable laws of the universe. She could no more alter these threads than she could stop the sun from setting.

And while she might wish to join those she had lost, to find solace in their ethereal presence, Genmei knew that her place was still among the living. There were people who depended on her, who needed her strength and guidance. Her duties anchored her to this world. To abandon those responsibilities for her own grief would not only be unfair but a betrayal of the trust placed in her.

Genmei accepted her grief as a companion, one that reminded her of her humanity, of the deep connections that had enriched her life, even if those connections eventually led to pain. She allowed herself to feel the sadness, to embrace it fully, for she knew that it was through experiencing this pain that she honored the memory of those she loved.

As the chill of the morning dew caressed her skin, Genmei kneeled solemnly in front of the ancestral shrine, a sacred space where time seemed to fold in upon itself, linking past and present in an eternal embrace. Each bow she performed was a gesture of deep respect, her movements deliberate and full of reverence. As she rose and entered the hall, her flowing robes caught the gentle morning breeze, trailing behind her like whispers of the past.

This hall, with its rows of colorful columns and ornate marble niches, was where Genmei felt most vulnerable—stripped of her worldly titles and roles, laid bare as merely one in a long line of ancestors. Here, under the watchful gaze of those who had come before, she felt the weight of her heritage most acutely. The lilac eyes scanned the figures that lined the hall, each ancestor's ashes resting within their marble confines, their features forever immortalized in stone.

The faces carved into the marble seemed familiar to Genmei, as if she had seen them not just in the flesh but in dreams that bridged the gap between life and death. Walking slowly along the hall, she whispered each name with a soft reverence, a ritual of remembrance. To know one's ancestry was to hold a map of one’s soul’s journey; it was the Mikoto way—a deep-seated belief that understanding where one came from provided the guidance needed to navigate life and, eventually, find one’s way in the afterlife.

Unlike the Zenin, who often eschewed such traditions in favor of strength and power, the Mikoto cherished these rites of heritage and memory. The Zenin might believe strength was the sole measure of worth, but to Genmei and the Mikoto, these moments of quiet communion with the past were a source of inner identity. They believed that the blessings and wisdom of ancestors fortified them, offering not just guidance but also a reminder of the responsibilities they carried as their living descendants.

Genmei paused before a particularly intricate carving, the face of a long-departed matriarch whose stories were legend within the family. Ryomen Hiromi stridently glared back at her in stony tenderness. She placed her hands together, bowed her head, and took a moment to praise her, to thank her, to worship her, to ask for guidance. Every Mikoto needs to. If there was no Ryomen Hiromi, none of them would exist.

As she continued her solemn procession through the hall, each step was a reaffirmation of her commitment to uphold these traditions, to honor the legacy of her ancestors, and to carry forward their teachings not just in memory but in action. In this sacred space, surrounded by the watchful eyes of her ancestors, Genmei renewed her vow to lead with integrity to her duty.

In the subdued light of the ancestral shrine, the air hung heavy with the scent of incense and the quiet whispers of the past. Genmei's steps were measured and reverent as she approached a particularly modest memorial, distinctly less ornate than the others that lined the sacred hall. This was her father's resting place, a reflection of the man he had been in life—unassuming, grounded, and wise in his simplicity.

"Father, your loving daughter comes to pay respect to you," Genmei whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the gentle flicker of the candles that cast a warm, dancing light on the stone surface. She knelt gracefully before the memorial, her movements fluid yet full of the profound respect she held for the man who had shaped so much of her life. Her bow was swift, deep. Only for her father. “I came to see you, and nii-sama.”

"How have you both been, father?" she murmured, settling back on her heels as she gazed at the inscription bearing his name. Though she spoke to the silence, the question was laden with genuine curiosity and the hope that, wherever he might be, he was at peace.

Genmei paused, allowing the silence to envelop her, half-expecting a whisper of wind or some subtle sign that would serve as her father's reply. In these moments, she felt closer to him than ever, bridging the gap between the physical and spiritual with the strength of her memories and the sincerity of her words.

The shrine around her felt alive with the echoes of her ancestors, but it was her father's teachings that resonated most profoundly in her heart. He had taught her the value of humility, the importance of staying true to one’s principles and the strength that lay in simplicity. These lessons had become the cornerstones of her own philosophy, guiding her actions and decisions throughout her life.

“I haven’t seen both of you and nii-sama in a long time, I’m sorry.” The lilac eyed woman whispered. “I hope you are both reassured that I am well. Satoru takes care of me, he takes good care of Megumi too, nii–sama. Don’t worry about him.”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of her responsibilities momentarily lift as she imagined her father's hand on her shoulder, steady and reassuring. It was a moment of solace, a brief respite in which she could lay down her burdens and just be a daughter again. It had been nearly twenty years since her father had died and still, she longs for him. She longs to have a father again.

As Genmei stood before her father Naoki's statue in the shrine, she couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and a profound sense of loss. The statue captured more than just his likeness; it seemed to embody his essence. Even carved in cold stone, Naoki’s eyes radiated a warmth and tenderness that was rare among the Zenin clan, known for their ruthless and often cold demeanor. His smile, gentle and inviting, seemed almost out of place in the hall filled with stern, imposing figures of his ancestors.

Naoki had always been an anomaly within the Zenin family. His kindness and empathy set him apart in a lineage celebrated for its stoicism and strength. Growing up, Genmei remembered how the servants and lower-ranking members of the Zenin manor would often speak of her father with a fondness and reverence that was seldom afforded to other members of the clan. They were relieved that Naoki, unlike many of his relatives, carried his power with grace and used his influence to shield rather than to demand.

This difference in character, Genmei knew, was largely attributed to Naoki's mother, who had been known for her compassionate nature. It was often said that Naoki was more his mother’s son, which, while a badge of honor in any other context, was seen as a weakness by the more traditional and harsher members of the Zenin family. Perhaps it was this gentleness that had fueled the animosity between Naoki and his father, Naobito.

Genmei reflected on the tragic narrative that had clouded clan leader Naobito's life. His heart, once perhaps capable of warmth, had turned to stone after the death of his beloved wife during childbirth. The loss had been too great, and instead of seeking solace in his son, Naobito saw only the cause of his greatest pain. His grief had manifested in bitterness and an increasing dependence on alcohol, which only further estranged him from his son.

Naoki, for his part, carried the heavy burden of misplaced guilt throughout his life. He believed, as his father had so cruelly insinuated, that his birth had been the cause of his mother's death. Yet, despite this, Naoki never harbored resentment toward Naobito. He understood his father’s grief, even if he fell victim to its sharper edges.

Standing there, Genmei felt a deep connection to her father's enduring empathy and strength. Naoki had managed to transform his pain into compassion, reaching out to those around him with kindness rather than succumbing to bitterness. It was a legacy of love over resentment, of understanding over judgment. 

Genmei touched the cold stone of her father's statue, tracing the lines of that all-too-familiar smile. She whispered softly, "You taught me the strength of kindness, Father. In a world that prizes power, you showed me the power of heart. I hope to carry that forward, as you did, and make you proud."

“You speak so highly of a man who’s long dead.” Naobito had said, his voice carrying a dismissive edge that immediately set Genmei on edge. “How interesting, little girl.”

The air in the shrine thickened with tension as Genmei faced the Zenin clan leader, Naobito, his presence an unwanted shadow on what had been a moment of private reflection. For a moment, Genmei’s eyes turned bright purple. Naobito snickers. It was obvious. He could see that she was upset to know he was there. The aura around him, as always, was charged with the abrasive charm that had marked his leadership—effective, yet isolating. She hated it.

“What are you doing here?” she asked quickly, more sharply than she had intended. Her lilac eyes, usually a soft echo of tranquility, hardened into icy shards as she faced the intruder. The sight of him, dressed in the dull colors of autumn, his haori reminiscent of dead leaves, was distinctly unwelcome. 

“You are not welcomed here,” she stated flatly, her lips pressed into a thin line of displeasure.

Naobito’s response was a snicker, dismissive and irritatingly calm as he began to close the distance between them. “Am I not welcome to visit my own son’s grave? Of my kin?”

“You hate your family, I doubt you’d be welcomed here for loving them enough.” Genmei shot back, matching his nonchalance with her own icy detachment. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a clear indicator of her disdain. “I thought you would rather I go to pay my respects to you in Zenin manor myself.”

“It would be too much to deal with Naoya and his temper,” Naobito retorted, referencing another member of their troubled clan. “Too much trouble for me to handle, little girl.”

Genmei couldn't help but snicker at the mention of Naoya, her disdain for the man barely concealed. “And I would have killed him,” she said flatly, her tone half-joking yet edged with seriousness. “That you know, clan leader.”

“Are you a kinslayer?” Naobito’s question was pointed, intrigued. “You seem so true to your word, little girl. Tsk, to desire to kill your uncle.”

“I am a Zenin, after all,” Genmei replied, her voice laced with bitter irony. This response was layered, acknowledging the ruthless reputation of their clan while also critiquing its brutal legacy. 

Gojo Genmei's thoughts lingered on the clan leader as she processed their recent confrontation and the complex dynamics of their relationship. Naobito's visits, rare as they were, invariably left a bitter taste. Over the years since she had decisively stepped away from the core activities of the Zenin clan to forge her own path with the Gojo and the Mikoto, Naobito's sporadic appearances had been laden with contention and thinly veiled disapproval.

Each visit seemed to underscore a broader struggle between the old guard represented by Naobito and the progressive forces within the jujutsu society championed by Satoru and herself. His challenges weren't just personal; they symbolized the tension between tradition and innovation—a clash of ideologies where Naobito often appeared as an unyielding bastion of the past.

And yet, his behavior was unpredictable. Sometimes, he was overtly antagonistic, pushing against the changes Gojo Satoru advocated with a stubbornness that bordered on cruelty. Other times, he was merely a silent, brooding presence, an enigma that left more questions than answers. There were moments when his laughter rang out, harsh and mocking, as if he found some dark amusement in the shifts occurring within their world or perhaps in Genmei's defiance of Zenin expectations.

Despite these challenging interactions, there was a part of  Gojo Genmei that acknowledged the complex role the clan leader played in maintaining a certain level of peace—or at least a balance of power—within their clan's politics. His distance, while often a source of personal pain, ironically kept the family discord from escalating further. It was an uneasy peace, fragile and fraught with undercurrents of unresolved conflicts, but it was stability of a sort nonetheless. Genmei sighed deeply, crossing her arms as she reflected on this paradox.

Naobito's words hung in the air, thick with emotion and a complexity that Genmei found both unexpected and suspect. His expression softened slightly, an uncommon vulnerability that seemed out of place on the hardened features of the Zenin clan leader. Yet, Genmei remained wary, her experience with the clan leader teaching her to tread carefully around his often ambiguous intentions.

"I have to ask again, clan leader, what are you doing here?" Genmei whispered, her voice low and steady as she held his gaze. "If there was business, you ought not to desecrate my father's grave."

Naobito sighed deeply, his arms crossed defensively, a gesture that seemed to shield him as much as it signified his own internal conflict. "A father also longs for his son, too. I would not desecrate my son's grave by hurting his only child," he responded, his voice carrying a trace of sincerity that was rare and disarming.

Genmei's initial reaction was skepticism, her mind racing as she assessed his statement. Her features softened involuntarily, reflecting a momentary lapse in her guarded demeanor as she contemplated his words. The thought, 'How much of a liar are you?' echoed in her mind, a silent question that stemmed from years of navigating the tumultuous and often deceptive waters of clan politics.

Yet, despite her doubts, there was a part of Genmei that wanted to believe there was truth in his words—that perhaps, in this moment, Naobito was reaching out not as the stoic and manipulative clan leader, but as a grieving father longing for connection with his late son through her, the granddaughter he so rarely acknowledged in any affectionate capacity.

"I want to believe you, clan leader," Genmei finally said, her voice a blend of cautious hope and lingering suspicion. "But you must understand why that's difficult for me. Your visits are seldom without motive. Can you blame me for questioning your reasons now?"

“I can’t.” the clan leader whispered at his grand-daughter, his fingers tracing against his whiskers. “I visited my son. And now my grand-daughter.”

She snorted. “To express concerns of my husband’s actions, ones which offend your clan.”

He laughs harshly. “You speak as though you were never a Zenin, girl.”

“I have always been more than that, clan leader.”

Naobito’s laughter dwindled into a wry smile, the harshness fading as he acknowledged the iron in Genmei’s voice. It was clear that while she bore the name and blood of the Zenin, she did not confine herself within the boundaries of their legacy—a point of both pride and contention for the old man.

“You have indeed,” Naobito conceded, his tone softening. “You’ve forged your path, integrating the Gojo and Mikoto influences into your being. It’s an amalgamation that some in the Zenin find... difficult to accept.”

Genmei’s expression hardened slightly, a clear indication that she was fully aware of the traditionalists' disdain within her clan. “And yet, it is this very amalgamation that has allowed me to see beyond the narrow confines of what our clan believes strength to be."

“You ought to be proud that I continue his work.”

Naobito nodded slowly, the trace of a smile lingering as if he appreciated her resolve, even if it ran counter to his own values. “Yes, your father would be proud,” he admitted, his voice carrying a note of genuine respect that surprised Genmei. “He too believed in the evolution of our ways, even if he could not enact it himself.”

Naobito's snicker, dismissive and tinged with a hint of the patronizing attitude that often characterized the older generations of the Zenin clan, was a stark reminder of the deep-seated beliefs that still governed many within their ranks. His perspective, focused inward on the power and preservation of the clan rather than the broader implications of their actions, was reflective of a mindset that Genmei had long found constraining and, at times, dangerously shortsighted.

"Not all should be about the wider world, silly girl," he said, his voice carrying a blend of amusement and rebuke.

"It is precisely because we are part of a larger world that we must consider the broader impact of our actions," she responded calmly, her voice steady and clear. "The isolationist views of the Zenin may have served us in past conflicts, but the world is changing. New threats and opportunities demand that we adapt."

“Traditions must also be kept in a changing world, should it not?”

She paused, her gaze steady on her grandfather, challenging him to consider the bigger picture. "Not if we wish for such tradition to continue. If we remain inward-looking, focused only on our own power and survival, we risk becoming obsolete—worse, we risk becoming oppressors or tyrants blind to the real needs of those we might otherwise lead or protect."

Naobito frowned, the lines on his face deepening as he considered her words. For a moment, the dismissive facade seemed to crack, revealing a flicker of the strategic thinker he had once been, a leader who had navigated the clan through turbulent times with a firm hand.

"You think the old ways are no longer sufficient?" he asked, his tone less combative and more reflective.

"I believe there is wisdom in many of our traditions," Genmei conceded, her approach diplomatic yet firm. "But wisdom also lies in recognizing when change is necessary. Satoru’s initiatives, while challenging, are not about discarding our tradition. It is stupid to think that way, clan leader.”

His eyes, which had wandered in contemplation, now met Genmei's with a clarity that conveyed both the depth of his entrenched beliefs and his acknowledgment of her steadfastness. “I see you and I will be just like your father. Never to agree.”

“Perhaps that is a curse to you, as it must be a blessing to me.” She paused, allowing the words to resonate within the sacred space, surrounded by the memories of those who had come before. “Disagreement does not have to lead to disconnection. It is only you who sees it that way.”

Naobito considered her words. He nodded slowly, an acknowledgment of her wisdom. “You have your father’s way with words and ideals,” he conceded, his voice softer than before. “And perhaps, if you had married your uncle, there would have been such charges to change for our clan. A level headed heir is better than a foolish one. A mad dog, even.”

Genmei laughs. “Perhaps not, clan leader. I would rather not wed a man who would have deprived me of my liberties.”

“You would have killed him first before he ever did anything.”

“Perhaps.” Genmei nodded at him. “But it shouldn't ever happen now. I have married a good man.”

“I’d like to learn how good he truly is, if he wasn’t such a—”

“I’d like to remind you that I would never tolerate such words said about Satoru like that.” She glares at the old man. “He has cared for me well. More than Naoya would have ever done.”

He did not say anything.

He knew Genmei to be right.

Naoya would have killed her.

And it would be shrugged off.

Jinichi killed his own wife too.

Naoya would find a way too.

As Naobito neared the threshold of the shrine, poised to leave, he paused, turning back to Genmei with a look that signaled unfinished business. “Before I go,” he began, his voice carrying the weight of authority he was accustomed to wielding, “What of the vessel of Sukuna? The elders council is in disarray over it. Surely, you must have an opinion.”

Genmei turned slowly to face him once more, her stance firm and resolute. “The council’s disarray does not concern me as much as the consensus of those who understand the broader implications,” she responded calmly, her gaze steady. “And as for the vessel, my position is clear and supported by Mikoto. We seek a path that is not bound by past fears alone.”

Naobito’s eyes narrowed, the mention of Mikoto bringing a flicker of annoyance—or perhaps apprehension—to his features. “Your vote, or Mikoto's stance, does not align with tradition. The Zenin have always—”

“My vote,” Genmei interjected firmly, “And the vote of the Mikoto no longer requires your validation, clan leader. The council respects our perspective for a reason. Times are changing, and so must our strategies. Sukuna is a threat, yes, but how we handle this vessel, Itadori Yuuji, could redefine our future."

The old man’s jaw set tightly, a clear sign of his frustration with her words. It was difficult for someone of his generation and convictions to accept such shifts in policy, especially from a younger family member, albeit one as formidable as Genmei.

“You tread dangerous waters, silly girl,” Naobito warned, his tone darkening. “To think that handling Sukuna’s vessel with anything less than absolute lethal intent could be anything but catastrophic is naive.”

Naobito scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “And what of the danger he poses? What if Sukuna gains control?”

“Perhaps.” Genmei conceded, her voice still calm, “But the Mikoto believes in looking at bigger picture. Itadori Yuuji is not just a vessel; he is a potential asset. And moreover, he’s a child. We must be cautious, yes, but we must also be wise. We cannot afford to act in haste based on old fears.”

“That is a risk,” Genmei admitted, “But one that comes with potential gains. We monitor, we prepare, and we act swiftly if needed. But to eliminate a potential ally out of fear is to act no better than the curses we seek to eradicate. The Mikoto will not endorse such a path.”

There was a long pause as Naobito considered her words, his expression unreadable. Finally, he let out a long breath, as if releasing some of the weight of the argument. “Very well,” he said grudgingly. “I see that your mind's made up, and your influence on the council is not insignificant. But be cautious, silly girl. Not all are pleased with this... progressive stance.”

“I am always cautious, you know this best.” Genmei replied, her tone unwavering. “Thank you for your concern, clan leader.”

With a stiff nod, Naobito turned and left the shrine, his steps echoing slightly in the quiet morning air. Genmei watched him go, feeling the weight of the confrontation slowly lift from her shoulders. 

Gojo Genmei sighed deeply.

She wished that duty would end.

At least for today, it has to end.

She needs to get some more sleep.

IT WAS A RELIEF TO FINALLY RETURN TO TOKYO. As Genmei sat by the window of the gently rocking train, her gaze occasionally drifted out to the blur of passing landscapes, but her mind was anchored firmly in the present — burdened by the weighty discussions with Zenin Naobito and the decisions that lay ahead. The rhythmic clack of the train on the tracks seemed to echo her repetitive thoughts, cycling through the implications of each word exchanged, each potential shift in clan dynamics.

Her sighs filled the quiet compartment, mingling with the soft hum of the train. The concerns with Naobito weren't just fleeting worries; they were deep-seated issues that threatened to resurface time and again. Each recollection of their conversation deepened her resolve but also underscored the complexities of her position.

Beside her, Nobuhiko's presence was both a comfort and a reminder of simpler times. He had always been a grounding force, his steadfast nature balancing her more strategic inclinations. As they traveled together, his occasional pouts and the childlike sulkiness he displayed when discussing his duties in Kyoto brought a rare smile to her face amidst the swirling anxieties.

Yet, as Genmei observed him, she couldn't help but feel a surge of nostalgia for the days when life was less complicated, when the boundaries of their world were defined merely by the adventures they concocted in their youthful play. Back then, Nobuhiko's pouts were about who got to lead their imaginary quests, not about the weighty responsibilities of a Jujutsu Tech instructor.

It was heartening, yet poignant, to see traces of the young boy she had known in the accomplished instructor he had become. Nobuhiko had grown into his role at Jujutsu Tech with commendable dedication, shaping the minds and abilities of his students with a passion that mirrored his own commitment to growth and learning. His reluctance to leave Kyoto, even temporarily, was a testament to the bonds he had formed there, the responsibilities he felt, and the identity he had carved out for himself independent of the family legacy.

“Do I really have to stay here?”

“Todo would be depressed if Nobu–sensei leaves.” She teases him, a wide grin on her face.

“Not you too, Genmei–sama. This is….” He started turning red. His lips form a sharp line. “It would be better, if I was by your side.”

Genmei raised a brow. “But aren’t you always by my side?”

Nobuhiko's face flushed deeper, the ruby hue of his pin almost mirrored in his cheeks. His discomfort was palpable, caught between his duties and his longing for a different path—one alongside Genmei, where he felt more directly impactful and perhaps more appreciated.

His frustration momentarily silenced him, the words catching in his throat as he grappled with his emotions and the stark reality of their discussion. The simple, teasing question from Genmei wasn’t just a casual remark; it was laden with deeper meanings about loyalty, presence, and the invisible ties that connected them despite their physical separations.

“You know what I mean, Genmei-sama,” Nobuhiko finally managed, his voice a mix of earnestness and exasperation. “Yes, in spirit, perhaps, but there’s a difference in being actively involved in the same causes, in fighting the same fights side by side.”

Genmei’s expression softened, understanding the depth of his feelings. She knew too well the complexities of their lives, pulled in multiple directions by responsibilities and roles that often left little room for personal desires. Yet, she also recognized the strength of their bond, one forged not just in shared childhoods but in continued mutual respect and support as adults.

“Nobuhiko, you are vital where you are,” Genmei responded gently, her tone conveying both sympathy and firmness. “Your work at Jujutsu Tech isn’t just about teaching techniques—it’s about shaping minds, guiding the next generation. That’s no small feat, and it’s every bit as crucial as the battles we fight in Tokyo. It’s what we need, if this is to work, this change.”

She paused, her gaze steady on him, ensuring her words sank in, not just as platitudes but as sincere recognition of his contributions. “And know this,” she continued, “Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, you are always by my side in the ways that truly matter. It’s only a three hour ride away. If you feel that tedious, use a warping spell. Come and see me, hm?”

Nobuhiko listened, the initial flush of frustration gradually fading as he absorbed her words. The tight line of his lips relaxed slightly, a sign that he was reconsidering his stance from a broader perspective.

“I understand, Genmei-sama,” he admitted, though his voice still held a hint of reluctance. “And I appreciate your faith in me. It’s just... sometimes the distance seems more significant than it is.”

Genmei nodded, acknowledging his feelings. “Distance can be bridged,” she reassured him, her voice imbued with a conviction born of years navigating similar challenges. “You know that better than I.”

Genmei stepped out of the car, the soft click of the door closing behind her muffled by the ambient sounds of the bustling train station. She turned to face Ichiji, her expression a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. The journey had been long, the rhythmic hum of the train wheels accompanying her weary thoughts as she traversed the miles between Kyoto and Tokyo.

"Thank you, Ichiji," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, yet laden with genuine appreciation. Ichiji, her loyal attendant, nodded in response, his expression a blend of solemnity and understanding. He had been with her through countless journeys, his steadfast presence a reassuring constant in the ever-shifting landscape of her duties and responsibilities.

"It was my pleasure, Genmei-san," Ichiji replied softly, his tone respectful yet tinged with a hint of concern. He had sensed her weariness, her burdened spirit evident in the subtle lines etched upon her face. “Welcome back to Tokyo.”

Genmei offered him a faint smile, a fleeting expression of warmth amidst the weariness that weighed upon her. Despite the fatigue that tugged at her limbs, she knew that she must press on, her resolve unwavering in the face of the challenges that awaited her in Tokyo.

Turning away from Ichiji, Genmei gathered her belongings and took a moment to steady herself, drawing upon the inner reserves of strength that had carried her through countless trials before. With a deep breath, she straightened her posture, steeling herself for the tasks that lay ahead.

As she made her way through the bustling station, her footsteps echoing against the polished floors, Genmei's thoughts turned to the purpose of her journey. Tokyo awaited her, a city teeming with life and energy, yet also fraught with the weight of responsibility and expectation.

As Genmei walked through the gates of Jujutsu High, she was instantly enveloped by the dynamic atmosphere of the school. The campus buzzed with the vibrant energy of young sorcerers honing their craft, each one focused and determined. The sounds of rigorous training filled the air, a symphony of discipline and hard work. Instructors barked commands that were met with immediate responses; the thuds of bodies grappling on the mats punctuated the air, underscoring the physicality of their training. 

Yet, it was the loud boisterous laughter, the spontaneous bursts of joy amidst the stern discipline, that truly characterized the spirit of Jujutsu High. It was a reminder that despite the grave responsibilities these students would eventually shoulder, they were still young, still capable of finding lightness amid the severity of their training. Genmei couldn’t help but be nostalgic about her own days there in Jujutsu High too.

Gojo Satoru had always looked happy at Jujutsu High. This was the environment where Satoru thrived, his formidable talents— but most of all, his youth. Genmei thinks about when she first met him, quite brash and self–centered. A true little prince. But in his three years here, Genmei could only remember him as he was now to be what he was in Jujutsu High. Genmei thinks she can only be glad for it. He’d ended up being someone she was proud to be married to.

Genmei's eyes were focused on the training grounds, watching her husband in the distance. He was fully engaged, demonstrating a complex maneuver to a group of attentive first-years, his movements fluid and precise. Watching him, Genmei felt a surge of pride. He was bringing the world he had always dreamed of to life. The one that Genmei had seen him dream of for all the years they’d been together. It feels so good to know his hard work was not wasted.

The lilac eyed woman drew closer, watching the intensity of the training session. But Genmei was certain that they seemed to have dialed down a notch as Satoru caught sight of her. Genmei thinks her husband was quite a dog, with how he seemed excited even from afar. His face lit up with a mischievous grin and waved at her. Genmei laughed, waving back half–heartedly.

Satoru called out to the students, "And that's how you ensure your technique is flawless!"

As Genmei stepped closer, the dynamics among the students shifted palpably. Megumi's sigh was not one of irritation but of familiarity, a testament to the countless times he had witnessed such warm exchanges between Satoru and Genmei.

He understood too much that Gojo Satoru was a man who truly, deeply, passionately, tenderly, does so loves his wife. He’d known that all his life, living with them and all.

Yuji Itadori, the energetic boy with striking pink hair, tilted his head, his eyes wide with curiosity. Next to him, Nobara Kugisaki, poised and observant, also turned to look at Genmei. Genmei waved at them, a tender smile on her lips.

Both were new enough to not fully grasp the personal life of their enigmatic teacher, and their faces mirrored their intrigue and slight bewilderment at the obvious affection displayed by Satoru. Gojo Genmei seemed so normal. So utterly normal. And compared to their teacher, this loud, boisterous, crazy enigma of a man —it leads to confusion, most definitely, how you both seem to be married. 

As Genmei walked up, Satoru sauntered over with a playful swagger. "And here comes the only person who can outmatch me," he declared with a theatrical flourish, reaching out to pull her into an embrace. “My most beautiful, beloved, darling, extraordinary, one and only, wife!”

Genmei felt laughter echo against her belly and gently pushed him away, not missing a beat. "Behave yourself," she chided, through her eyes twinkled with amusement. Turning to the first years, who were watching the exchange with wide eyes, she extended a warm smile. "You must be the new first year. I'm Gojo Genmei, Gojo–sensei's wife."

“You’re just not my wife, darling! You’re my most beautiful, beloved—”

“You’re embarrassing yourself to your students, Satoru. Think of Megumi!”

“I don’t wanna be part of this conversation.” Megumi crosses his arms, looking down at his shoes. “Exclude me…please.”

Satoru’s lips turned into a pout, “My son turning on me like this, I never thought I’d see the day!”

“I’m not your son—”

“Now, now, calm down.”

The students' expressions shifted from amusement to shock, Nobara Kugisaki's eyes widening, "You're married to Gojo–sensei?" she blurted out, clearly trying to reconcile this new information with the enigmatic image of their teacher. “How? How are you married to Gojo–sensei?”

As the shock registered across Nobara’s face, Satoru’s trademark grin only widened, clearly enjoying the ripple of surprise his announcement had caused among his students.

“Because she loves me!” he declared, throwing his arms wide as if to emphasize the sheer inevitability of it all.

Megumi, who had been quietly observing the scene, couldn’t help but snicker at his teacher's theatrics. “That sounds like a lie,” he muttered, just loud enough for those nearby to hear, his deadpan delivery a stark contrast to Satoru’s flamboyance.

Satoru feigned a wounded look, clutching his heart dramatically. “My son, turning against me again, Genmei!” he exclaimed, looking over at Genmei with exaggerated betrayal. “How is fate ever so cruel?”

Genmei laughed, shaking her head but deciding to keep out of this particular fray. “I’m not gonna get involved,” she declared with a smile, her tone light and teasing. “You and your son need to talk this through.”

Megumi sighed, “I’m not his son.”

Yuuji, who had been watching the exchange with a growing smile, jumped into the conversation, his enthusiasm unchecked. “Wow, sensei never mentioned he was married! It’s great to meet you, Genmei–sensei!” His voice carried a mixture of excitement and a touch of awe, as if the revelation added yet another layer to the already complex puzzle that was Gojo Satoru.

Genmei grinned at Yuuji's exuberance, appreciating his straightforward and lively nature. “It’s lovely to meet you too, Yuuji–kun. But please call me Genmei.” But then Genmei turned to Nobara, who blinked at the sudden turn of the elder woman. “And you too, Nobara–chan.”

Satoru, not one to let a teaching moment slip by, even if highly embellished, wrapped an arm around Genmei’s shoulders. “You see, everyone, this is why you always keep them guessing. Keeps the mystery alive,” he said, winking ostentatiously. “Right, wifey?”

Gojo Satoru's grin broadened into a full-fledged smile, his cerulean eyes sparkling with amusement at Nobara's expressed candid astonishment. His posture relaxed as he leaned back slightly against his wife, clearly reveling in the students' reactions.

"How do I bag a woman like her?" Satoru echoed, gesturing towards Genmei with a dramatic flair. "It's simple really—I'm irresistible." His tone was teasing, laden with his usual cocky humor, designed to elicit more laughs than serious consideration. “I am quite a good gentleman. How could she not fall for me?”

Genmei shook her head, a gentle, indulgent smile playing on her lips. She decided to play along, stepping closer to Satoru with a mock-serious expression. "Actually, it took him a lot of effort. He had to prove he was more than just a pretty face and outrageous antics. Isn’t that right, dear?" she said, giving Satoru a playful nudge.

The students burst into laughter again, watching the banter between their sensei and his wife. Yuuji, still grappling with the novelty of the situation, added, "So there was a lot of persistence involved, huh? Gojo–sensei must have gone through a lot, an adventure!”

"Mmm, something like that," Satoru agreed, nodding sagely. "But let's just say it involved a lot of proving that I could be a responsible adult when needed."

The blue–green eyed Megumi sighed, “Gojo–sensei, you’re just saying anything and everything.”

Satoru’s eyes twinkled mischievously, embracing Megumi's skepticism with his typical flair for theatricality. “Ah, Megumi, you’ve uncovered my secret,” he declared with an exaggerated bow. “My entire life has been a carefully orchestrated performance designed to woo Genmei!”

Genmei laughed, stepping in with her own playful jab. “And he almost failed the audition, too.” she quipped, winking at the students who were now thoroughly enjoying this rare glimpse into their sensei’s personal life. “He was such a klutz, you know?”

Yuuji, unable to resist joining in, chimed in. His eyes were shining. “So what was the final move, Gojo-sensei? How did you clinch the role well?”

“Well, Yuuji,” Satoru said, adopting the tone of a wise sage sharing ancient secrets, “It involved a lot of strategic thinking, a grand romantic gesture involving perfectly timed sakura blossoms falling like snow, and… a cat.”

“A cat?” Nobara echoed, her eyebrows arching in disbelief. “This is too far-fetched, Gojo–sensei.”

“No no, I’m not. It was a cat,” Satoru nodded solemnly. “You see, wifey here has a soft spot for stray cats. I found the scruffiest, most endearing little stray and presented it to her, claiming it reminded me of myself.”

Genmei rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her amusement. “What he’s not telling you is that the cat immediately scratched him and ran off. It was the most honest review of his character I could have hoped for.”

The students burst into laughter, picturing the usually unflappable Gojo Satoru being bested by a stray cat. It was a laughable thing. But Satoru often does this every time someone asks how they met. Megumi narrows his eyes, almost as though he was having a flashback. Genmei was certain that Satoru had traumatized Megumi enough about it all. He was the one who always gossiped with the school moms, after all.

“See, it’s all about resilience,” Satoru grinned as he continued, totally unfazed. “The key to winning someone over is not giving up, especially if you love someone. Even when attacked by small animals.”

Yuuji  shook her head, still laughing. “This feels less like romance and more like a battle strategy, Gojo-sensei.”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “It seems to me that he’s just being crazy.”

“You definitely are correct.” Megumi added, which caused Genmei to snicker.

“Ah, but love is the greatest battlefield of all!” Satoru exclaimed, spreading his arms wide as if embracing the whole world. “And I won the best of the best!”

Genmei gave him a gentle shove, chuckling. “Alright, that’s enough for you. These students came here to learn about Jujutsu, not your questionable courting techniques.”

“But wifey!” Satoru’s pout got even worse. “We’re just starting to have fun!”

“No buts, Satoru.” 

Satoru’s exaggerated pout didn’t last long under Genmei’s amused but firm gaze. He knew well enough that his theatrical sulking wouldn’t sway her once she had made up her mind, yet he couldn’t resist playing up for his students. His arms remained crossed, and he huffed dramatically, managing to draw more laughter from the group.

“Oh, I forgot.”

Genmei turned her attention to Megumi, her smile warm and genuine. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small package, the familiar sight of moon cookies that she had thoughtfully brought with her. “Megumi, I remember how much you enjoyed these last time.” she said as she handed him the package. “Arisu oba–sama knew you liked them a lot too. So she gave you a lot.”

Megumi’s typically reserved demeanor softened noticeably at the gesture, and he accepted the cookies with a quiet, “Thank you, Genmei-san.”

Noticing the curious glances from Yuuji and Nobara, Genmei chuckled and handed each of them a cookie as well. “I asked the temple for quite a few of them. I thought it’d be nice to share some with all of you. Just let me know if you’d like more later, okay?”

Yuuji’s eyes lit up as he took a cookie, his usual enthusiasm bubbling over. “Wow, thanks, Genmei-san! These look amazing!” he exclaimed, eagerly taking a bite and nodding in approval.

Nobara, too, accepted the cookie with a smile, her earlier shock at Satoru’s marital status now giving way to appreciation for Genmei’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you, it’s really kind of you to think of us,” she said, tasting the cookie and giving Genmei an approving look.

The light and friendly mood was palpable as each of the students enjoyed the moon cookies, their earlier training session momentarily forgotten in favor of the sweet treat. Genmei started to tell them about moon cookies and how it’s made.

Yuuji was asking questions about the ingredients, but failing – as it was a Mikoto family secret. Nobara was fawning over the cute packaging and taking pictures. Megumi, as he always does with moon cookies, ate them as though he was savoring them. Satoru admits that watching his students and wife interact made his feigned pout slowly transform into a genuine smile. All he has now is his pride and joy.

“See, it’s not just Jujutsu techniques I’m good at sharing,” Satoru quipped back at her, finally uncrossing his arms and stepping closer to join the circle more fully. “I’m also excellent at sharing the best snacks, thanks to my better half here.”

Genmei gave a light laugh, shaking her head at Satoru’s attempt to regain some of the spotlight. “Well, we all have our strengths, dear,” she replied, giving him a playful nudge. “Mine just happens to include giving people the motivation to live.”

The students responded with a mix of laughter and nods, appreciating the familial and caring atmosphere that both Genmei and Satoru brought to what could have been just another grueling day of training. Yuuji, still not quite over the novelty of meeting Genmei, turned to Satoru with a mischievous grin.

“So, Gojo-sensei, does this mean we get snacks at every training session now? Is that part of the curriculum?” he asked, the hopeful tone in his voice eliciting more laughter from his peers. 

Satoru raised an eyebrow, then looked at Genmei as if considering the idea. But he laughs soon after. “Well, if my most amazing loving wife is willing to keep supplying, who am I to deny you all such delicious motivation?”

Genmei laughed, amused by the turn of the conversation. “I think that might make the temple suspicious if I start clearing them out of moon cookies every week. But perhaps for special occasions…”

Megumi, who had been quietly enjoying his treat, looked up at her with a tender look in his eyes. Genmei thinks that he’s the most passionate about moon cookies. “It’s a good incentive to perform well, Genmei–san.” he noted, his voice low but clearly suggestive. “It’s good for morale.”

Nobara nodded in agreement, her expression one of mock-seriousness. “Absolutely, I think performance-based rewards could really enhance our training outcomes,” she chimed in, playing along with the theme, with a grin playing on her lips. “You know we’d come out the best in Jujutsu High with this!”

The group continued chatting and joking about potential “cookie rewards” for outstanding Jujutsu sorcery maneuvers. This continued on as the sun went and set, the end of the day just bursting with the conversation that was full of laughter. It was nice to take it easy, that was for sure.

Genmei thinks her years in Jujutsu High were rigid with Gakuganji creating hell for them. But Kaiko and Namie always made it fun. Genmei was glad that they were together, these three. These three were, after all, still kids living this cruel life. It’s the least she could do.  

It wasn’t long after that when Satoru thought that the day should end on this high note for the kids. He had them start cleaning up the training materials, but Genmei is scolded him about ordering around the kids and soon enough, the strongest sorcerer of this life time, was carrying bamboo spears back into the storage huts as his wife enjoyed the remainder of the moon cookies he had on his own packet.

“Remember, you’re all welcome to come by anytime you need advice, training tips, or just a friendly chat,” Genmei called out as she and Satoru started to head back. “Just call me, okay? Megumi has my number!”

“I’m not giving it to them.”

Nobara frowned. “Yes, you will! Porcupine, get me your phone, now!”

“Don’t call me that.” Megumi responded back, mirroring her frown. 

“Thank you, Genmei-san!” Yuuji called back, waving energetically. “And thanks for the cookies!”

As they walked away, Satoru slipped his arm around Genmei’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “You really made their day, you know,” he murmured softly.

Genmei smiled up at him. “And they just made mine. I’m very glad to see them together, finally.” she replied, her voice filled with warmth. “They reminded me of youth.”

“They really do, don’t they?” Satoru's tone was playful, infused with affection. He smiles down at her too. “But I make you day too, don’t I?”

His wife laughs tenderly at his words. “Yes, yes. You always do.”

“Ah, my wifey is such a beautiful romantic!”

Genmei laughed, the sound mingling with the fading echoes of the bustling campus around them. "Only for you, my love." she responded, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "But I still have to learn to keep up with your dramatic flair somehow."

Satoru grinned, clearly delighted by her comeback. "Ah, but who could resist such charm? And even then, who am I to resist your charm? You keep me grounded, wifey. You always have." His voice softened, the playfulness giving way to sincerity. He squeezed her shoulder a bit more tightly, reinforcing his words with the gentle pressure of his touch.

As the doors behind them closed, shutting off the sounds of the outside world. Satoru and Genmei entered a quieter world within the confines of Satoru's dorm room, a space that often doubled as a strategic meeting point for discussions far removed from the ears of even trusted allies.

The transition from light-hearted banter to serious tension was almost palpable, as if crossing the threshold into the room also required a shift in mindset to address the challenges that lay ahead.

The walls of the room, lined with books and various artifacts from past missions, served as a reminder of the many facets of their lives as sorcerers. Satoru walked over to a map pinned across one wall, dotted with notes and markers, each representing an event or a point of interest that required their attention.

Satoru’s face furrowed with concentration. Her husband somehow liked marking where he goes to missions often. Genmei thinks that she should suggest he get a new map. It was already too full to tell, she couldn’t tell anymore where he hadn’t been just yet. But he’d never replace it. He’s too attached to it. It’s been with him for ten years after all.

Genmei crossed her arms as she observed his focus and slowly approached and stood beside him, her lilac eyes scanning it all. "The stakes are getting higher, Satoru. With the postponement of Yuuji's execution, we've bought some time, but it's only a temporary reprieve," she said, her voice steady despite the weight of their discussion. “But we’ll have to be careful. I’m not sure how long before they’ll break it.”

Satoru nodded, leaning against his desk, his demeanor becoming more contemplative. “I know,” he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We can’t let our guard down. I don’t trust them one bit. Not even those elders in Mikoto who said yes.”

Genmei purses her lips. “I know. This will also stir more tensions between us against the higher-ups and the clans. It’s already a controversial thing. They won’t sit quietly with this kind of disruption to the status quo.”

Satoru crossed his arms, his gaze drifting towards the window before returning to meet Genmei. “We need to be vigilant. Some of them might see this as an opportunity to undermine our plans or to push their own agendas more aggressively.”

Genmei nodded, her mind racing through potential scenarios and countermeasures. “We’ll need to keep a close eye on the movements of the clans, especially those who have always been less than supportive of us. And it’s not just the clans—we should be wary of any unusual activity among the higher-ups as well. The kids, we’ll have to have closer eyes on them.”

Satoru pushed off from the desk and started pacing slightly, a sign of his growing concern. He withdraws his blinds and lowers them. Her eyes meet his own. “I agree. We can’t afford any surprises. Yuuji’s case is sensitive, and any misstep could be catastrophic not just for him but for the fragile balance we’ve been trying to maintain at the school and within the wider jujutsu community.”

Genmei watched him pace, her mind equally busy with strategizing. “I’ll start by enhancing our intelligence network. I’ll have Nobuhiko and mother look into everything. I’ll see if I can get in touch with Todo. If there’s even a whisper of a plan against Yuuji or us, even the school, we need to know about it before it becomes a threat.”

Her husband stopped pacing and turned to face her, a determined look on his face. “Let’s also make sure to keep it as quiet as possible. The less, the better. I’ll talk to my mother. I’ll have her watch the higher ups.”

Genmei nodded at her husband as she stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “We’ll manage this, Satoru. We’ve faced tough challenges before. We just need to stay one step ahead, as always.”

Satoru’s expression softened slightly, and he placed his hand over hers. “Thank you, darling. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The way Satoru looks at her made her fall in love again.

She pulled him close and wrapped her arms around him.

Satoru felt the scent of vanilla scent, returning the embrace.

“I love you so much.” Genmei whispers to her husband. “I do.”

He grinned at her, kissing her temple. “I love you too, darling.”

He was the only family she truly had; she thinks of it now.

Gojo Genmei thinks that Gojo Satoru was her forever home.

facts about the chapter

ryomen hiromi in her will changed the family name to mikoto, consolidating her second husband's clan with her own. she did so to cut ties with sukuna.

the mikoto clan were always the biggest voice when it comes to the matter of ryomen sukuna. they consider it their duty to see sukuna eradicated from the world.

the mikoto, unlike the rest of the clans, kept their ancestral home in their ancestral province. its still under the ryomen name and all mikoto are expected to spend some time there to train their jujutsu.

ever since her marriage to satoru, it became more apparent that genmei has had conflicting views with the wider jujutsu society. being satoru's wife also means they can't do anything about it.

genmei was the one that adopted nobuhiko in the clan in 2003. she raised him from then on, giving him his name and his position in life.

nobuhiko teaches in kyoto jujutsu high and is in charge of the third years. todo is his student - who is very happy about his answer when asked about his type.

naoki zenin refused to be buried in zenin manor, so the mikoto buried him in their shrine. the zenin had been asking for his body back, but they have always refused.

genmei buried toji with her father after he passed. she thinks its only right that toji and her father are together.

genmei does not have a good relationship with any of her family, except megumi, mai and maki.

genmei has a particular hatred for naoya more than her other uncles. she considers him the most vile.

megumi doesn't like too much sweet things, but he fell in love with the moon cookies when he first visited mikoto manor as a child. he eats it often with black coffee.

genmei is very close to all of satoru's students and considers them as her own children. but genmei is closest to megumi, since she's raised him.