#just because it has been like this for long it doesn’t mean it has to be like this forever

[goxjo]

! 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐟𝐭. 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

ALPHA! GOJO x F OMEGA! READER

+ synopsis. you live in a world where omega and alpha qualities are medically treated at birth to become dormant later in life. present day, only betas & pseudo-betas exist, pheromones & its effects are left in the distant past, and heats & ruts are reduced to monthly cycles of being slightly hornier than normal, nothing more.

so, what happens when a curse you encounter induces a heat in you far worse than anything recorded in modern times?

+ alternatively. in which even a special grade sorcerer isn’t immune to the curse-induced heat of an omega — you, the partner he's pined for over the course of your entire friendship — forcing you and him to go back to your primal roots.

+ cw. forced A/B/O dynamics, lovesick! gojo, slight! geto x reader, sorcerer! reader, dubcon (technically sex pollen), reader is born an omega, gojo and geto are born alphas, gojo's infinity can't block scent for fic purposes, geto doesn’t turn au, use of restraints, mating call, mutual pining, it gets playful / lighthearted in the middle, implied 'medical' use of sex toys, dirty thoughts, lordosis, petnames (angel, love), pussy job, constant pov switches towards the end, cunnilingus, ass fingering, piv, cervix kisses, confessions, shared orgasm, creampie, knotting, no beta bye, 3.5k+ words, MDNI

+ masterlists. general ┆ jujutsu kaisen ┆ collab

♥︎ aki’s note. big thank you to raven (@raven-cincaide) for sprinting with me ♡ ++ this very late fic is part of my into the omegaverse collab ♡ please show some love to everybody’s amazing works when you can!

He came as soon as he heard. Plagued by his racing thoughts, Satoru stands still, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watches you from behind the glass window. Though he appears to be calm, seeing you like this is torture.

“How long has she been in there?” Suguru puts his hands in his pockets, taking the spot next to Satoru.

“Too long,” he breathes. And it’s only been half a day. His 6 eyes have been agonizingly locked on your form the entire time, piercing blue eyes peering through the glass and into your poor disturbed soul. You’ve been crying non stop ever since they found you. Eyes glossy, pupils blasted, spewing incoherent words, skin damp and hot.

They needed to restrain your arms and legs to be able to perform tests on you, but that didn’t stop you from crossing your knees, relying on friction to rub your pussy as best as you can. All this, as your body wriggles beneath the harsh clinic lights. You’ve gone absolutely feral. Your cries are pitched an octave higher than what Satoru’s used to. And as much as he doesn’t want to believe it, it’s as if… “It’s as if she’s calling out to someone.”

“To you, you mean?” Suguru scoffs.

Paper seals secure the walls of your room. Remnants of the curse linger around your body and because of that, they’ve deemed it safer to assume only born-betas are allowed direct contact. For now, at least. Shoko says they don’t know if there are aftereffects — meaning, if exposure to a victim could also trigger a rut in an alpha. And now they’re dealing with pheromones, not just cursed energy, so infinity is out of the question. That means Shoko gets to stay with you, and the two born-alphas are to stay on this side until further notice. 

Satoru hates it – being separated from you by a wall like this. Not like you weren’t already normally separated by one, considering your room in the dorms is right next to his. But he particularly hates how this renders him unable to barge in on you any time he wants.

Right now, he wants to annoy you. He wants to poke fun at you. He wants to pull your strings because he likes it when you get fake-mad. You’re cute when you do that. Plus, he uses it to his advantage knowing you can never actually stay mad at him for too long — a weakness the two of you share.

“Heard the report got it all wrong.” Suguru pats Satoru’s back. “Special grade 1, was it? Quite the leap from semi-grade 1.” Suguru shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief. He’s never seen his best friend so distraught. But Suguru reassures him, telling him not to worry and reminding him of the fact that, at the very least, “She’s alive and kicking. Well, kicking too hard for that matter. Those knots are gonna bruise.”

“She should’ve called me. Fucking idiot.” Satoru clicks his tongue.

They have brought in experts — historians, even. They have tried every omega medicine known to man. Emergency suppressants that were once obsolete are concocted that same day. Everything should’ve shown immediate effects. And yet, it’s almost laughable how it all seemed like they were only giving you placebo meds, forcing you to down so many in so little time. Since nothing has worked, Shoko sent them away.

What’s worse is, the curse is exorcised. And in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, killing a curse usually takes all its enchantments with it. So, if the curse is dead and you’re still experiencing the worst heat known to man, they could damn well consider your revert permanent if they don’t do something about it quickly.

The two men jolt back upon smelling a very pronounced aroma of burnt cinnamon on Shoko who’s left the room for the first time in the last 6 hours. Her hair is slightly disheveled, slightly damp from sweat. And the circles around her eyes have grown visibly darker and heavier.

“Can’t imagine our forefathers going nuts over that stench.” Suguru lightens the mood, fanning his hand in front of his face. He blinks his tears dry as a result of inhaling a whiff of the strong odor.

“It’s not that bad.” Satoru scrunches his nose as he’s suddenly taken aback, though he’s not particularly repulsed by the scent. If anything, he’s immediately convinced it’s something he doesn’t mind living with. “Plus, I heard it’s slightly different for every omega.”

“Finally, some fresh fucking air,” Shoko murmurs as she leans on the glass, head thrown back as she lights up a cigarette. Apparently, she hasn’t had one since they brought you in. “Welp, tried everything. Even left her alone with toys to do—”

“Herself?” Suguru teases.

Satoru scratches his throat. “Did it- uhm… did it help?”

“Not one bit.”

“Maybe you… didn’t give her enough time?” Satoru nonchalantly suggests, pouting as he subconsciously takes notes for himself if he ever gets presented with the opportunity.

“I let her at it for an hour.” Shoko huffs out smoke in the direction opposite to the two men. “I even gave her… options, you know.”

Satoru mentally kicks himself as his thoughts run wild. He can still see the tip of the pink silicone popping out of one of the trays, girth not so different from his. He hates Shoko for doing a shitty job at concealing it because blood rushes to his cock just by looking at that thing, knowing it had gone inside you. He thinks about what other toys Shoko had you use — thinks about which one was able to make you cum the fastest, which one was your favorite?

Fuck. Now, he has to keep adjusting his stance, marching in place like a damn soldier till he manages to get his half-hard cock into a better position in his pants. Using his hands then and there is not an option for obvious reasons.

“Satoru.” Shoko’s tone becomes more serious. “You can drag this longer than it needs to be. But you know there’s only one surefire tried-and-tested-literally-by-millions-way to cure a heat.” She takes a long puff, blowing smoke in between words, embers flickering on the end of her half-done stick. “You up for it?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Of course he is.

Suguru and Shoko shoot each other knowing glances, the former raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘watch this’. “Satoru, If you’re not gonna do it, I wi—”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Satoru spits, not letting his best friend finish his sentence. The two quickly exchange low fives, chuckling at the expense of their lovesick friend. Satoru turns to Shoko, paying no mind to his friends so blatantly enjoying themselves in the middle of a crisis. “You’re sure you’ve done everything you can?”

“Everything I can, yes. You’ve exhausted all the favors you can ask of me, it’s high time you deal with your own problems.” Shoko prods two fingers onto Satoru’s chest.

“Want her to want it,” Satoru speaks softly.

“Are you blind? Did your fucking 6 eyes stop working?” Shoko looks at Satoru, puzzled, as if she wonders why Satoru isn’t seeing what she’s seeing. “Oh, I’m pretty sure she wants it bad.”

“Want her to want me.”

Shoko rolls her eyes and disposes of her cigarette though it’s a couple more puffs away from when she usually stops. She’s at her limit. “Wait here.”

Trying to prove a point, she goes to the supply room and comes back with two handkerchiefs — a white one and a blue one. She then pats the white one with the sweat off of Satoru’s nape, and the other with Suguru’s. “Pray with me, boys. One of you’s gonna have to return to their roots.” She cracks her neck, preparing to head back in.

The sound of your cries increase and decrease in volume when Shoko opens and closes the door behind her.

“Shoko, Shoko, please! Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it—”

Shoko waves the blue handkerchief above your head, grabbing your attention for only a few seconds till you’re back to screaming in agony. She can almost hear Suguru scoffing on the other side. She then takes out the white cloth with Satoru’s scent, and like a moth to a flame, you’re instantly drawn to it. Your breaths have finally steadied. You take quick bouts of whiffs, head craning every which way she drags the piece of cloth.

She leaves you with the handkerchief after letting your arms and legs loose, allowing you to curl up in a ball as you desperately inhale Satoru’s scent. It’s the first thing that has calmed you in hours. Nonetheless, this relief is temporary. Pretty soon you’ll be needing something stronger. Something more potent. Something in its rawest form.

“S-satoru,” you breathe through the handkerchief, staring at the two-way mirror like a faint prayer to the god you know is there. “Shoko, please get me Satoru.” Your words are clear as day, and that’s the first coherent thing you’ve said all day.

Shoko’s eyes dart to where she’s sure Satoru stands. “Do you see it now?” she mouths.

Satoru’s jaw stiffens, stomach now a mangled mess of anticipation and guilt. On the one hand, he’s relieved. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if you’d reacted the same way to Suguru’s scent. On the other hand, he knows what’s going to happen now. Not like he didn’t see this coming.

…

Though she didn’t have to, Shoko chose to make a nest of Satoru’s clothes for you in his own bed. “Thought I’d at least make the effort to help make it romantic, no?”

Except nothing about this is romantic. Jujutsu dorm walls thankfully aren’t thin, but thin enough for him to hear your cries from behind his door.

Satoru takes a second to collect himself, getting square with the fact that this isn’t how he wanted your first time to go. He can smell you from where he stands, forcibly reminding him for every second he delays that you’re in there, waiting for him.

He’s played your first time over and over in his head as he fucked his fist — almost every morning in the shower, once or twice in your room when you were out on a mission, and many, many times in the very bed you’re nestled now. Out of the hundreds of scenarios he’s made up of him making love to you in his head, he’s never once pictured this.

His friends have pestered him about this for so long, urging him to take the first step or else Suguru — and on some occasions, Shoko — won’t hesitate to whisk you off your feet. But he tells them he has his reasons for constantly holding off. He says it’s because you’re perfect for him, and so he wanted your first to be perfect — plain and simple. He says it so matter-of-factly, too. But now, to hell with the perfect scenario because as it turns out, it’s mother nature herself who decides to give him one crazy hell of a push to make a move.

Satoru enters his room. Greeted with the raw and unbound fragrance of your heat, his heart pounds in his chest. He coos upon seeing you hugging his pillow, all plump and ready for him. Suddenly, it registers in his head that he’s seeing you naked for the first time, lying in his bed. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says more to himself, trying to convince himself that this is real — that you’re real.

“‘M sorry, it hurts— hurts so bad, Satoru. ‘M sorry!” He’s sorry it has to be like this, too. But he’s not so sorry that you’d asked for him.

With dried up tears along your cheeks, and fresh ones in your eyes, your cried out voice croaks, “Satoru, help me please. I need you.” You roll on your belly, propping your forearms as you bury your face in his scent, whining into his pillow, back arching + ass perked up, as you shamelessly stroke your pussy to his face. “N-need you now, please, please, please?”

Fuck.

Even now, it melts his heart seeing you so full of want.

“Shh, shh, shh. I’m here aren’t I?”

Satoru doesn’t miss the way your hand grips the sheets as you watch him discard his clothes. He sees the absolute delight in your face, the flexing of your belly, the further bend of your back, the quicker strokes of your fingers around your clit. But it’s the sight of your nectar dripping out of you that finally makes him break.

With how hard he is and how much he wants to devour you like crazy, he could easily be mistaken for an alpha in a rut. He swears his chemical makeup has nothing to do with it. He just wants you that bad.

Suddenly, the space between you and him doesn’t exist. You moan out loud just by being touched by him. He engulfs you in his arms forcing you to sit up, hot skin against even hotter skin, your back pressed flush against his torso as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And your slick — god, your honeyed slick — begins to coat his hard cock speared between your legs and along your puffy folds.

Fuck.

“Sweet angel.” His eyes roll back as he takes in all of your scent.

His cock twitches between your legs, pre-cum starting to drip off his tip. He feels a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach as soon as he gets into contact with your slick. Your touch is so fucking electric. One hand wraps around your stomach while the other reaches for your breast, cupping and kneading the soft flesh, feeling your thuds of a heartbeat beneath his palm. You smell so fucking good upclose, your scent keeps hooking and hooking him in, and taking care of you is all he cares about. That's all that matters. He’s holding you now and yet he’s unable to satiate this mad need to be closer to you. He needs to be closer. He needs to make love to you. Needs to be in you—

“S-Satoru.” You guide the hand on your breast, intertwining with his fingers, pressing harder, rougher, against your skin. “You feel so good, Satoru. Please move. N-need more.”

Satoru releases a deep groan in your ear when you bring your knees together, locking his cock between your legs as you begin to grind your pussy on his erection, nectar lubing your every sway.

“E-easy, eaaasy,” Satoru’s voice is low and breathy. He hisses with every roll of your hips, breath hitching as your pussy drags his foreskin back and forth, balls kissing the back of your thighs. Mind hazy with want, he presses his cheek on yours, planting open mouthed and sloppy kisses on the side of your face.

“Not so fast!” Satoru holds your hips in place when you start to pick up the pace, making you whine, “Wha–”

“Too fast, I’m sorry.” Satoru trails apologetic kisses along your jaw. “Not there- don’t want to cum there.”

He apologizes as a tinge of guilt prickles his throat seeing you so utterly vulnerable. Your eyes plead for him to fill you then and there but he needs this moment to last as long as possible, even if it means prolonging your agony.

“S-Satoru, can’t wait any longer!” You try to move your hips but they’re locked in place. 

“No.” He says, firmly, and it hurts to tell you that. “Not yet.” Tears well up in your eyes as your chest heaved at the height of your confusion. Your mouth opens, trying to find words, but before you get to complain, he gives you a soft, chaste kiss — your very first one, he realizes — and tells you, “Get down for me.”

And with tears in your eyes, you oblige. He supposes this is the work of the reemergence of your makeup and raging hormones, making you so pliant and submissive, you’re willing to do his bidding even when you’re on the verge of insanity — when, before this, you always had a stubbornness in you he’d always been fond of. But then again, at this very moment, you’re desperate. And you’re desperate for him.

“Satoru, I don’t know what you’re up to b-but please, don’t take long- oh!” Your protests are quickly replaced with cries as you feel a soft, wet muscle slide across your folds. He’s always had that habit of not letting you finish. To think it’s something he takes to bed with him makes your stomach coil. “Fuck!”

Hot breath fans your folds as he splits your slit open with his tongue, and all you can do is shudder in place, wallowing in the extreme pleasure that dozens of toys weren’t able to give you. You’re practically leaking on his face, honey dripping down his chin, the tip of his nose pressing into your ass.

His tongue squelches with every lick, twisting your core in knots with every line drawn. And then it’s as if Satoru’s lips are sealed around your clit, puckering and sucking on the sensitive bud.

“Satoru, oh god. ‘Toru, so good, ‘s so fucking good~” Your eyebrows furrow, lips pursing as he relentlessly flicks his tongue on your clit.

“Oh!” You scream when a honeyed digit enters your ass, thumb hooking and pressing hard against your g-spot, all while his tongue remains fixated on your clit. “Fuck- mmm!”

You can’t help but mewl and cuss into your first orgasm — the first one he granted you, that is — wave of pleasure washing across your body as he eats out your high. And while it’s a sensation that gives you a sense of satisfaction, you’re left wanting more. You’re left needing more.

“Please fill me- can’t wait any longer- please, alpha~”

Oh, now you’ve done it.

“Sorry, love.” Satoru pulls you back into his chest and cups your cheek, making you look over your shoulder and into his face. “Neither can I.”

“Sato- Oh!” Gagged by the feeling of friction in your aching walls, the very first one you had welcomed since your heat, you’re at a loss for words when his cock enters you, bottoming out straight away. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and he instinctively closes the gap, savoring your mouth, and with every click and swirl of your tongues, he thinks you are probably the softest, most delicate thing he’s ever tasted.

He knows he’s screwed, tasting you for the first time, knowing he’ll never want anything other than you, your lips, your pussy, this feeling ever again.

You feel as if every pump of his cock scratches that stubborn itch that’s spread across your pussy since your heat. And every satisfying ram of his hips kisses your cervix, bringing you closer and closer to your high, as if this — his cock, and the feeling of his body rocking your own — has been what’s missing in your life.

“Scream for me, angel,” Satoru grumbles against your ear as he feels himself nearing his own climax. Suddenly, his mouth is back on yours, kissing you, with you purring against his lips as he fucks you through your shared high.

“I–” When his pace comes to a full stop, you know what’s about to come. And he doesn’t know what to say. Shoko’s already briefed him on what’ll happen to an alpha who cums in an omega in heat, not that he doesn’t know what a knot is. He just doesn’t know what to expect. Still, he wants you to take it. Even now, he wants you to want it. But he studies that curious look on your face, and as he scrambles for words, it seems it’s your turn to finally shut him up.

“I love you, Satoru.”

Satoru chuckles. More to himself.

“I love you, too.” Satoru, with breaths uneven, relaxes his forehead against yours. Satoru steadies himself, and pretty soon, you collapse in his arms as his knot locks in your core.

...

"Hey," Satoru breaks the silence. "You know... taking my knot like that means you practically asked me to marry you."

"Shut up."

—

Shoko alternates between looking at you and flipping the pages of the report in her clipboard. It seems that you’re technically back to normal but she’s got that look in her face as if a couple of words are stuck behind her throat.

“It’s fine. Hit me with it,” you prompt. “What is it?”

“Well, you’re now a full-blown omega is what it is,” Shoko says without an ounce of concern in her voice. “But seeing as you’ve got… help now,” Shoko’s eyes dart to Satoru who’s standing in the corner, “there’s really not much to do about it.”

“Is that so?” You chuckle at the playful tension between Satoru and Shoko.

“You’re ‘help’, by the way,” Shoko addresses Satoru.

“A big one, too,” he adds.

“Keep it in your pants.” Shoko puts her clipboard aside and scratches her temple. “Still, it’s insane that this is what finally brought you two together.”

Shoko’s words put a longing, knowing smile to your face. "This silly guy waited too long."

“Hey, if that’s what it took. Who am I to complain?” Satoru shrugs, ego fluffed by the thought that you’re finally his. And the fact that he and you are the only active alpha and omega in the world? How special is that?

pspsps. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♥︎

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 700

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. this is just a short prologue to show how things end (yay happy endings!), but the two have a lot of trauma to go through before they reach endgame. i love kinich's character and design so i'm excited for this! interaction is highly appreciated :)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

Kinich thinks he’s loved you since forever.

He has no way of proving that, of course; those years are long gone, and even if he had the opportunity to ask, he’s not sure his younger self would have a comprehensible answer. He can only see now that he’s come so far, when the memories are too murky to make sense of but the warmth remains—when he thinks of your smile and feels something akin to the weightlessness of grappling and flying through the trees.

He says “forever” because he really has no idea when it started—the realization came far after the feeling. He’d been before school age when he met you for the first time, and it’s been over a decade since then.

“Kinich!”

Your call interrupts his thoughts, and his gaze is drawn skyward—you’re standing somewhere far above him, on one of the walkways lining the cliffs of the Scions of the Canopy. You’re waving so wildly and ridiculously that it almost makes him smile.

“Are you coming down?” he calls through cupped hands, well-acquainted with this kind of long-distance communication. Sound tends to echo well between the cliffs here, and he’s sure you heard him when you offer an enthusiastic thumbs-up in return. 

“Yup! I bought a few things, so I was hoping you could help me carry them home!”

Kinich rolls his eyes teasingly. “Somehow I doubt that you have enough Mora left to afford my services.”

You pout in reply. Ajaw decides to appear then, a malicious puff of smoke over Kinich’s shoulder. “Of course not! You better not be making fun of me, letting some mortal treat you like a servant! The Almighty Dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw, won’t take this kind of disrespect—”

Ignoring his wordy introduction, you call down to Kinich again. “I’m coming down! Think fast!”

“—Don’t make me lau—wait, what?!”

Even Ajaw yelps in surprise as you take a running leap off the walkway, freefalling fast down the plane of the cliff. If he were any younger, Kinich might’ve had a heart attack. But you’ve been pushing your luck with him for years, and it comes as instinct when Kinich grapples up, deftly catching you in his arms with a light ‘oof’.

You’re holding a few boxes in your arms, he notices, and you smile. 

“I bought some Puff Pops for us to share later. I was thinking we can do some climbing, or there’s this cave I’ve been meaning to explore.”

His heart does a sort of flip that cannot be attributed to the way you fly through the sky. It’s all so much: the sensation of your warmth pressed against him, the scent of the wind rushing past, and the laughter of his tribe members below. Their eyes shine as they watch the two of you pass above them, chuckling at the familiar sight. 

And really, he can’t remember ever being this happy. When he thinks of how much it took to reach this point, the heartbreak and trauma aren’t the first things to come to mind. Instead, it’s you. The way you held him, the way you cried for him, the way you chased him. Always laughing, always in love.

Too lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice your curious stare for a moment. You poke at his cheek, and he startles, nearly dropping you both.

“Is something wrong?” you ask shyly, suddenly self-conscious of the box in your hands. “We don’t have to do any of that. Really, if you have a high-value job or something, I understand.”

Ajaw decides to butt-in again, reddened with rage. “Yes, all of that sucks! I mean, seriously, don’t you have anything better to do—”

“No, it’s great,” Kinich murmurs in reply, flicking Ajaw away with a strong hand—the Saurian’s roar dissipates with the wind. He holds you tighter against his chest. There’s nothing worth more to him than you. “That all sounds really, really amazing.”

As the two of you burst through the trees, laughing the whole way, he thinks that it doesn’t really matter when he started to love you. All that matters is that he doesn’t stop.

Kinich thinks he’ll love you forever.

[oddinary4bts]

To Give a Helping Hand | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: when you finally come over to his place, Jungkook realizes he'll need more of you.

☆pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: smut, idol!au

☆warnings: unedited, curses, alcohol, an NDA (brief mention), explicit content: grinding, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), edging, begging/praise kink, spitting, jerking off, unprotected sex (don't be stupid), creampie

☆word count: 3.7k

☆a/n: i was horny i guess lmao hope you enjoy! this is unedited so beware for typos and stuff that doesn't make sense haha love y'all <3

☆☆☆☆☆

There’s something about you that Jungkook can’t quite figure out.

Maybe it’s the way you signed the NDA when you got to his place, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with playfulness. Maybe it’s the way you teased him, threatening to spill his secrets with a wink that went straight to his dick. Or maybe it’s the way you told him he can’t tell anyone about you either.

It can be our secret, mmh?

Your words have been resonating through him since he made you dinner And he only did so because he wants to spend some time with you, to get to know a little before he actually fucks you, and all that shit. He’s just trying to be decent. But ever since you walked into his apartment with that skirt of yours - showing your indecent, strong legs, and thighs he wants to be crushed by - Jungkook has known he’ll get his dick wet tonight.

Hell, he knew it even before that, but the sight of you has been making him feel feral. It’s nothing new - he’s been feral for you ever since the first time he saw you at the gym, with that stupid Cooky keychain he hated then.

He doesn’t hate it anymore. In truth, he doesn’t even give a shit anymore. Maybe it’s because you have him wrapped around a finger, and he’s ready to make you see stars.

“Thank you for the food,” you say as you sit back in your chair, toying with the glass of the wine you brought. 

He tilts his head to the side, offers a small smirk and says, “Anytime.”

Your eyes glint. They glint like jewels in the sun, and it strikes him deep. “Does that mean it’s time for me to repay you?”

Fuck. His blood shoots down to his dick, and Jungkook stirs in his chair.

“I think we’re on uneven grounds, mmh?” he lets out.

You cock an eyebrow. “How so?”

“I haven’t seen you come yet.”

You smile a small, secretive smile, looking at your wine. “Does that bother you?”

“It does.” He shifts in his chair, leaning closer to you. He suddenly hates that you’re sitting on the other side of the table, but he’ll be patient tonight.

He wants to savour you until the sun comes up.

“So tonight is all about me?” you tease.

He can’t help the small laugh he lets out. “Oh, I think we’ll both find our pleasure.”

It doesn’t take you long after that to get up, walking around the table. Jungkook pushes his chair away from the table, and you straddle his lap with the quiet confidence he likes about you, lowering yourself on him until he’s sure you can feel his dick on you.

And he feels you, feels the warmth radiating off of you, and he already knows his climax will hit harder than it ever has.

“So,” you purr, circling your hips. “What do you want to start with?”

His hands find your waist, and he gently rubs you with his thumbs. “Why don’t you take your shirt off?”

You’re a brat. You’re a fucking brat, because you pout, saying, “Can’t do it for me?”

He’ll go insane tonight. Thoroughly, completely insane.

What will be left of him in the morning?

“You want to play this game?” he says, voice low.

You blink innocently. “What game?”

Jungkook gets up, carrying you with him. Your eyes widen in surprise, but you recover quickly, wrapping your legs around him. And he meant to carry you to his room, but your lips find the side of his neck, and you suck hard.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and he immediately directs himself towards the wall, pinning you against it. “You’re impatient.”

You lean your head back against the wall, looking at him through your lashes. “Maybe a little.”

It spurs him into action - Jungkook captures your mouth in a languid kiss, parting your lips with his tongue to taste you. He can taste the food and the wine on you, but also a taste that is so distinctly you that he sighs in relief.

He’s a man starved when it comes to you, and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

Jungkook grinds his hips, rubbing his length on you. You whimper in his mouth, your hands pulling on handfuls of his hair, and he hisses in pain, though it only turns him on more. Still, he kisses you, sucking on your lower lip and teasing it with his teeth. He doesn’t bite down too hard, doesn’t want to hurt you, but when your tongue toys with his piercings, he knows he needs to have you now. So he makes sure he’s holding you up with one hand, and then slides the other one between your bodies. 

He makes quick work of pulling your skirt up, and then his fingers deftly push your underwear aside. One digit parts your folds, tests your wetness, and his dick twitches in his pants at just how slick you already are.

“Who’s impatient now?” you purr.

He feels an inherent need to shut you up, and so he dips his finger inside of you up to the first knuckle, swallowing the needy moan you let out. And then he’s pulling his hand away, bringing it up to your face, and he pulls away from the kiss to push his finger in your mouth.

Your lips wrap around the digit, your eyes blazing bright, and you suck on it, your tongue teasing the pad. It reminds him of how your mouth felt on his dick the last time he saw you, and he grinds into you again, loving the way your eyebrows bunch together with pleasure.

He can’t wait to hear you moan his name. That, more than anything, pushes him to pull his finger out of your mouth, and to then carry you to his room. You busy yourself on the skin of his neck as he does so, and he grunts when your tongue teases the earring he’s wearing.

“No hickey,” he reminds you when you go back to sucking on his neck.

You stop, pulling away just enough to meet his gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice.”

He’s reached the bedroom by then, and Jungkook puts you down on his bed. He takes his shirt off while you make yourself comfortable on the bed, and he throws the piece of clothing on the floor before climbing on the mattress. You immediately spread your legs for him, and he pushes your skirt up to reveal the black lacy thong you’re wearing.

It barely even hides anything, and he can already tell that you’re slowly soaking the fabric.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way you’re eyeing his chest, lust and desire swirling in the depths of your gaze. Your eyes, glistening earlier, have turned darker, and he can’t help but admire you for it.

You’re beautiful. Beautiful in a savage, strong way that he can’t even describe. Maybe it’s your muscles, or that quiet confidence you carry yourself around with. Or maybe it’s just the way his body reacts to you - his lust for you is wild, feral, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jungkook bends down to kiss you, hand sliding to your wrist when you run your hand through his hair. He pulls your hand over your head, pressing it into the mattress right as you wrap your legs around his waist again. 

“Be nice and don’t touch me, mmh?” he tells you.

He doesn’t wait for your answer. He’s already sliding down between your legs, readying himself to finally get the taste of you that he’s been craving. And there’s something sinful about your skirt, about your black lacy thong, so he decides to keep your clothes on, hooking one finger in your thong to pull it aside.

You’re gleaming with your slick juices, your pussy flushed red with arousal. Jungkook just knows you’ll feel divine on his dick, but first he wants to lap you up.

And so he does, leaning forward to push his tongue between your folds. Your taste is heady, inebriating, and he grunts as one of your hands shoots to his head as if you’re trying to push him closer.

“Nu-uh,” he tuts, kneeling between your legs. He grabs your hands, puts them over your head, and then says, “Don’t move.”

He doesn’t break eye contact as he slowly unbuckles his belt, and then takes it off. Doesn’t break eye contact as he ties you up with it, making sure to not make it tight enough to hurt, but still tight enough to restrain your motions. 

Your breath is ragged when he sits back on his heels, tilting his head to the side as he smirks. “Now, if you move again, I’ll tie you up to the bed too, m’kay?”

You flash a lustful smile. “Maybe I’d like that.”

It turns him on far too much, his dick rock hard in his pants. He rubs himself, watches with manly contentment as you look down at him and bite at your bottom lip.

“Careful, baby,” he says. “If you’re too much of a brat, you’re not getting anything tonight.”

“As if you can resist me.”

He can’t. He knows he can’t, so he abstains from replying, instead choosing to make you regret your words. Indeed, he goes back to your pussy, pushing your underwear aside once more to blow a breath on your clit that makes you squirm slightly. He loves it, loves everything about how your body responds to his. Even more so as he dives in, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking on it lightly. You moan, somehow shy, and he looks up at you to see your jaw as your head is thrown back.

But you’re obeying, hands gripping at the pillow over your head, and Jungkook knows he’s got you right where he wants you to be. So he unleashes himself, feasts on you until your moans grow louder, his name intertwined with your pleasure. His dick hurts in his pants from lack of stimulation, and he starts palming himself as he eats you out, as your juices cover his chin.

Circles after circles around your clit lead to it growing sensitive, flushed with so much arousal he knows you’re teetering close to your orgasm. But he won’t give in yet, won’t let you come even though he thinks the sight will entrance him, will make him worship you like a goddess.

So instead, Jungkook pulls away, blowing another breath on your clit as you whine.

“Fuck, why’d you stop?” you complain.

He smirks, waiting for you to look down at him. 

“You think I’m just going to let you come like this?”

You clench your jaw, chest going up and down rapidly as if you’ve just sprinted down the street. “You’re a little shit, aren’t you?”

He bends down, bites at your clit lightly yet it makes you cry out in pleasure, and your hands shoot to his head. 

“What did I say about touching me?” he warns.

“Jungkook…”

“Hands up, baby,” he tells you, kneeling between your legs. “I think we have to tie you to the bed.”

You obey, yet Jungkook resists from restraining your movements further. Hell, he might want to edge you, but he also wants you to be a brat, to tell him how much you want it.

So he kisses you wild instead, lets you taste yourself on his lips as his hand lets go of your wrists where he’s pinned them over your head again. He trails his way down your side, lifting your shirt so that he can graze the skin of your stomach lightly, and you let out a breathy sound that he thinks might have been his name.

“What?” he asks.

“Touch me,” you say, eyes fluttering open to meet his. 

Your gaze is sex-crazed, a clear indication that he indeed denied you an orgasm, and Jungkook sits back on his heels. 

“Where?”

“Are you always like this?” you ask.

He nods. “Only with pretty girls like you.”

He doesn’t think you like the mention of other girls - he’s been with plenty of them, but evidently that’s not something you’d want to hear. So he decides to stop teasing, to finally let you ride the wave of your climax.

If only so that you stop looking disappointed. And so Jungkook brings his hand between your thighs, collecting your juices on two fingers before slipping them inside of you. 

You’re tight. Or maybe your walls just fight against him for a moment, relaxing the second he starts rubbing on your velvety spot. Your hips raise from the bed, your back arching as you moan loudly.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you cry out.

“Feels good?”

“Yes.” You wet your lips, gaze meeting his. “Eat me out at the same time?”

He tilts his head to the side, the predator and you its prey. “Why should I?”

“I’ll suck your dick after.”

His dick twitches in his pants at your crude words, but Jungkook ignores it. “What makes you think I want that?”

“The fact that -” Your words are interrupted by a loud moan, your walls momentarily clenching around his fingers as he pushes them in and out of you quickly, his thumb rubbing on your clit. “That you came down my throat last time.”

He bends down to whisper against your lips. “Open your mouth, baby.”

You look like you want to fight him, but he knows you’re nearing your high. Indeed, your gaze has lost its focus, your cheeks are flushed red, and your breathing is ragged, so much so that he wonders if he should give you a break before fucking you.

When your lips part, Jungkook doesn’t hesitate before he spits in your mouth. You moan in answer, your walls fluttering on his digits.

“Fuck,” you curse. “I’m so close.”

He knows it. He knows it, because you’re growing impossibly tighter, and your eyes are screwed shut now, your eyebrows almost touching. So he gives in to your earlier desire, going back between your legs to wrap his lips around your clit.

He only has to suck on it once, teasing it with his tongue, for you to crash into your high, and you moan as you come, your walls pulsing on his fingers. You taste divine, like the ambrosia of the gods, and Jungkook laps you up, guides you through your orgasm. And it lasts a while, wave after wave after wave crashing into you until your thighs are shaking, instinctively closing around his head.

Only then does Jungkook pull away, looking down at your ruined panties as he slips his fingers out of you.

“Holy shit,” you let out, and the breathy laugh that follows makes Jungkook pause, eyes widening as he looks at you.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Fuck. Yeah. That was…”

He toys on his piercing, everything in him waiting for the praise. But it doesn’t come, and his dick hurts in his pants, and all he wants is to bury himself deep in your hot wetness. So he moves away enough to remove his pants, and then he fists his cock, stroking himself as he waits for you to look at him. When you do so, he slowly takes off your underwear, never breaking eye contact, before kneeling between your legs again. 

“You think you can take me now?” he asks.

You look down at him, and your hands reach for him. As much as he wants you to touch him, he thinks he’s already close - if you were to suck him or jerk him off right now, he reckons he might come on the spot. So, once again, Jungkook pushes your hands over your head, but this time, he holds them in place before gently nudging your clit with the tip of his cock.

“Can you?” he asks.

“Can I?”

You sound confused, which he assumes might be because you’re fucked out from coming hard. So he kisses you once, pushing his tongue in your mouth lightly before he pulls away.

“Can I fuck you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you purr, and he loves that the brat is back.

Even more so as he rubs his dick between your folds, collecting your juices.

“You’re dripping wet, baby,” he says. “You always get this wet?”

You meet his gaze, biting at your lower lip. “What if I do?”

He starts pushing in, and you surprisingly hold onto the defiance, your smirk never fading. His, on the other hand, melts as he feels you for the first time, and you’re even better than anything he could have imagined.

“Then,” he lets out, pushing in inch by inch. He pulls back out for a second, and then pushes in again. “I better fuck you good until all you want is my dick, mmh?”

“Please.”

It’s the begging. It unravels the last of his restraint, and Jungkook pushes all the way in, grunting as he hits your cervix. He pulls out slightly as he surveys your features, aware that he might have hurt you, but you don’t look like you care.

No, your hips lift from the bed, trying to meet his, and so he starts pushing in and out, slowly at first if only to make sure you’re adjusted to his size. And when you moan his name for what might be the hundredth time but feels like the first, Jungkook increases his pace, increases the strength of his thrust until his headboard is banging into the wall.

He takes you in, takes the sight of you as you mewl from your pleasure, your walls sucking him in so good he thinks he sees stars. You’re heaven personified, his own nirvana, at least for the time that he’s fucking you.

Everything else fades away - his life, his fame, the NDA you signed that’s still on the counter. All there is is you and him, and the way that your bodies move like one. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way while having sex. Hell, he reckons twenty years from now, he’ll still be thinking about this moment while he’s fisting his cock.

But for now, Jungkook tries to focus on the present. Tries to focus on the way you respond to his every motion, your walls clenching around him. His balls grow tight, a knot forming in his lower back as he tries not to come. It’s hard, but he manages to refrain from coming by slowing down, establishing a deeper rhythm that makes your eyes flutter open.

“I really want to touch you a bit,” you whisper.

It’s not said out of lust. There’s something else in your eyes, and Jungkook wonders if you feel like he does.

If you, too, will be thinking back on this moment twenty years down the line.

“Let me…” he trails off as he stops moving, and then he unties your wrists. 

Your arms immediately wrap around him, holding him close, and Jungkook likes it. Likes the way you lightly trace his back with your nails, and he winces as you slightly dig into his shoulders as he starts fucking you again.

“No marks,” he reminds you.

You whine, yet it morphs into a moan as he starts pounding into you again. His balls are tight, heavy, and he knows he’ll have to let himself go soon, yet he wants the moment to last just a little longer. Maybe that’s why he pulls out, flipping you on your belly. Why he takes a moment to massage your ass cheeks as you glance at him over your shoulder. Your hair is a mess, but it’s beautiful, in such a simple, feminine way that it stabs Jungkook in the chest.

Or that might be the way you’re looking at him - it’s hard to tell, and Jungkook decides to chase the vulnerability away by pushing inside of you, up until he feels your ass against him. And then he’s fucking you again, relentlessly, sweat dripping from his forehead. It falls on you, but you don’t look like you mind, and though it’s burning his eyes, he doesn’t care either.

All he cares about is the way is dick grows infinitely hard, and soon his motions grow sloppy. He focuses for a time, tries to hold it in, but then you say, “You’re so good, Jungkook”, and the praise sends him over the edge.

Jungkook slams all the way in, holding your waist tightly, and he comes deep inside of you, painting your insides white as your pussy clenches around him. He sees stars - galaxies and nebulas - and his body folds on itself until he’s got his forehead pressed to the side of your face. He thinks he might have moaned your name, moaned a silent prayer to your beauty, and the orgasm washes through him, erasing everything until he’s just a blank canvas.

It takes a long time for him to come down from his high. For his breathing to return to normal, for his blood to stop singing the song of you. Meanwhile, you’re just breathing in sync with him, your hand on his cheek - when did it get there? - as your thumb strokes idle lines on the side of his face. It’s intimate, and oh too vulnerable considering that you’re a fan, so Jungkook straightens, finally pulling out.

He watches his cum dripping out of you, the sight nearly enough to make him go feral again, but he takes a deep breath, reminding himself that, as much as he wants you, you’re still just a fan.

He’s never going to date you, is he?

But he can’t deny the attraction, or the way your body answers to his perfectly. So when you get ready to leave, later, Jungkook pulls you into a short embrace, kissing you slow as your hands rest flat on his chest. And then he pulls away so that he can meet your gaze as you look up at him.

His heart feels warm - he thinks his whole chest might slowly be catching fire. So, even though you’re just a fan, even though you probably shouldn’t, he whispers, “Can I see you again next week?”

Prev

☆☆☆☆☆

hope you guys enjoyed this... horny chapter haha jungkook finally got what he wanted with her... but he already wants more hehe let me know what you think of this chapter!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

Taglist:

@pamzn | @chimchimmarie | @llallaaa | @backseatana | @xmspurple7x

@jadestonedaeho7

[hyunebunx]

Wow I’m stupid I pressed send way too fast 🩵 with Lee Know??

˖˙ ᰋ ── 🩵 - kissing in the rain with Minho

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: a teeny tiny amount of angst but it has a happy ending

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: thank you sm for requesting!!! <3 i had soo many ways of writing this in my head that i struggled lol. i really hope you like what i came up with. it's loosely (very) based on the rain scene in pride and prejudice so enjoy!! <33

Arguments were not a usual occurrence in your relationship. Most of the time you managed to settle any disagreement before it could escalate to such heights, the perfectly communicating couple all of your friends couldn’t help but feel a little envious of.

Now was not one of those times; your stress and emotions were getting the best of both you and Minho in the most unpleasant way. You hated arguing with him, getting angry and unable to see the other’s point of view, clouded by the desire to be right and make each other understand where you were coming from.

“You don’t get it.” Minho shakes his head with a sigh, forearms resting on the wheel as the rain poured outside your safe haven, hitting the windshield at an alarming pace and preventing you from seeing anything, even with the headlights on.

“Explain it to me, then!” You bite back, body facing his in the heated passenger seat that was keeping you warm and cozy despite the chill outside. Even when arguing you could admit Minho was the most considerate person alive – you didn’t ask him to turn on the heat, he must have done it when he noticed you trembling like a leaf after getting in.

He surprised you after work, dropping by and driving directly to one of your favorite restaurants just in time for dinner and a well deserved date night. Everything was perfect, the location, the food, and especially the company, laughing and having a great time with the love of your life.

Until things turned sour on your drive home, and what started as a silly disagreement turned into a full-on argument about something you didn’t find significant enough even to remember.

“That’s what I’ve been doing for the past ten minutes but it seems you don’t want to listen!”

You’ve been walking (or driving) in circles, with him getting frustrated and you following right on his tail until the car came to a stop right in front of your apartment building.

It’s not like you didn’t want to listen or care to hear him out, it’s just that Minho seemed to make something out of nothing, insisting and pushing forth the same idea like you were nothing more than a child who lacked basic comprehension. It was frustrating and exhausting, especially after the long day you’ve had.

“Min, I’ve been listening.” You try to smooth things over, warm hand landing on his thigh comfortingly. “Just because I’m not giving you the answers you want doesn’t mean I’m not hearing you.”

Minho remains silent, head turned the other way to stare out the window and not acknowledge your presence. When the silence stretches on, you give up with a sigh and retract your hand, reaching for your purse in the backseat and opening the car door in the same breath.

“What are you – “ You close it right before he can finish the sentence, set on getting inside with or without him to finally take the bubble bath you’ve been daydreaming about all day at work.

“Kitten!” His voice follows a moment later, the sound of the car door slamming louder than him amongst the deafening rain. “Y/n!”

Despite yourself and the insanity of spending even one more minute in this storm, you stop and allow him to catch up, not protesting as his warm hands land on your shoulders and turn you around almost desperately.

“Where are you going? We are not done talking.” He states, dark hair and clothes getting soaked at an alarming pace as the rain spares neither of you.

“But I am!” You exhale, the chill settling into your bones. “We won’t reach an agreement like this so let’s just stop!”

His eyes widen as he pulls you closer, chest to chest, figures illuminated by the bright headlights almost blinding. “Baby, wait – “

“I hate fighting with you, Min.” Without meaning to, you interrupt him once again, reaching up to cup his face and drag him closer. “I’m sorry, okay? We can talk this over calmly inside after we cool down. Just not like this, please, I can’t do it anymore.”

He nods instantly, agreeing without a doubt and most likely seeing his faults too, and not only yours. Then, when you expect him to let go and finally follow you in, Minho surprises you the second time tonight by leaning over and connecting your lips in a kiss full of passion and love, reminding you once again that the heart in his chest beats first and foremost for you. His upper limbs cling to your body just like your clothes, hugging you tightly while your hands squeeze his face affectionately, a smile sneaking past and pulling one from him as well, on the verge of beaming into the kiss.

The rain seems to disappear, the cold too, like you weren’t bothered by either in the first place. Minho has that effect on you, helping you see the good in every situation. Sure, the location was not ideal – nothing could be less romantic than a barely lit parking lot – but as always, the company mattered more. And the message he was trying to send. When words failed you, actions worked better, speaking louder and getting your point across without much effort.

Sure, the argument wasn’t resolved but you both managed to make the other understand what mattered the most. You might be disagreeing now, momentarily stuck in a small pothole along the way, but you still loved each other, you would get over it and be okay in the end.

Because that’s what true love meant. Getting through things together and continuing to walk down your joined paths, hand in hand, no matter how many potholes or rough patches you encounter. A small setback won’t ever erase your feelings for each other, or make you forget all the beautiful moments you’ve shared.

And maybe, just maybe, a kiss was all you needed to finally understand Minho’s point when you sat down and resolved things that night. He, on the other hand, needed a few more to be satisfied.

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 20/09✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@funnybadger868 ha chiesto:wait so if mk can hear macaques past can he hear wukongs for example the circlet and the spell

Yeah he could. It's now just a matter of if he wants to use this power ever again

@cryptic-theseus ha chiesto:you're paying for my therapy btw, the bill is on the way

Blame it on the gay monkies not me. It's bc of them that my life is ruined/hj

@ayrza ha chiesto:Hey!I have an important question, where do you get your sources for the AU👉🏻👈🏻p? I mean, I just recently entered the LMK fandom and I see that there are parts that are not mentioned much in the series and it frustrates me because I feel like I only watch the anime but I'm missing the manga 🫠I love your art and your work, it's amazing 🫰🏻✨

Hi! Well I' finishing to read Journey to the West (im at chapter 80) and if I need extra info or just check I go to the fandom wiki.

@feyqueen91 feyqueen91 ha chiesto:A question for your Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU (btw, I just saw your recent post for More Than A Successor Arc & I thought something light hearted was needed to even out the Angst), is Macaque able to summon something like what Red Son did with the Samadhi Sprite, and he teaches MK to do it too?

Wait what exactly? I haven't understood what you meant by sprite.

@og-glitch-punk ha chiesto: Honestly I expect this to be hidden but i also love your work on both comics, keep it up!! I forgot their names but dude- how would the lotus prince and our moon chef feels about wukong and Macaque being MK's parents? HELL. WHAT ABOUT THE TRIO? YELLOW TUSK, PENG AND THE LOIN (CANT REMMEBER HIS NAME EVEN IF HE IS TECHNICALLY DEAD/GONE). Hell even this chaotic snake man may even use MK to his advantage with the fact he is the child of Wukong and Macaque. So many possibilities and guesses, so many twists and turns we will never know bro

Oh he absolutely woud. Also about the others. They would probably act like protective aunt/uncles to that poor traumatised boy.

@thenerdnico ha chiesto:Oh my GODS that last bio dad's chapter broke me, your expressions are always amazing. I'm going to assume that at the end of Wukong's and Macaque's fight, Wukong realised Macaque wasn't moving and ran up to him, and ended up sobbing and screaming when he realised he was dead??? If that is the case, do you think MK listened to it long enough to hear that as well?

Oh for angst reason yes. He did.

@shadowpeachera ha chiesto:AHHHH YOUR SHADOWPEACH BIO AU IS SOO GOOD!!!! I SCREAMED AT THE LAST UPDATE!!! I have a question though. You know in the series i think season 3 epsiode 5 where Wukong goes into a deep mystic monkey meditation, yeah. Well i was wondering if Mk has ever tried that but got disrupted and lost his memories or started acting strange infront of his monkey parents. It would be hilarious i can imagine him shouting, “TUDI, TUDI!”KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK, no pressure though! HAVE A GOOD DAY!

Lmaooo ok ok I don't think I'll go witha small amnesia arc in the AU but this doeß sound adorable.

@sakuralotus03 ha chiesto:It will probably be quite heavy, but I suggest that after Wukong saw the monkey like that he had a huge attack of guilt and anxiety and ended up injuring his left eye with his claws

Poor baby!! Nono don't worry his eye is fine.

@raylamoongirl ha chiesto:question for macaque: what was the hardest thing to teach Mk?Lmk bio parents Q&A

Mmmm so they tried really hard to teach him shadow teleportation, but he seems to not be able to do it.

@lmkobsessedmoth ha chiesto:For the Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU What if macaque and wukong go on a date and wukong doesn’t know it’s a date because he’s as dense as the rock he hatched out of

He truly would be. May the gods give him a clue or smt otherwise we wont end up nowhere here

Anonimo ha chiesto:Hey!I love your Shadowpeach bio Parent's AU But I Wonder,Does Wukong and Macaque already dance together before?

Danced??? I think so?? When they still were lovers friends I think (i think i m missing something)

Anonimo ha chiesto:I am on my knees, heart giving out, HOW IS BABY MK SO CUTE AND SHADOWPEACH SO ALLERGIC TO JUST KISSING ALREADY LIKE COME ON YOU TWO Anonimo ha chiesto:When I read the other part where swk and mac where talking about wanting MK to view them as parents at first I thought swk was proposing having another kid with Mac and I went “WOAH HEY- HOLD UP FOR A SECOND THERE U NEED TO GET UR SHT TOGETHER FIRST” and thank god it wasn’t that I thought swk was JUMPING AND ACCELERATING THEIR PROGRESS LMAOOOSo I’m actually glad they are taking baby steps, they need them

This slowburn is gonna be so slow-burning you all are gonna die when they actually kiss (will they kiss? Oh that's just for me to know ahah)

Anonimo ha chiesto:Since macaque is called mama by mk does that mean macaque is like a mother figure to mk in your au mama macaque is adorable and he gives off motherly in his character

Anonimo ha chiesto:Whos mom if there is considered a mom by MK or only dads? Is it Wu or Mac? My headcanons is Wukong basically the mom cuz he gives off mom and dad vibes together and Macaque just gives off dad vibes to me

He gives more motherly vibes, yes (Mamacaque and DadWukong forever)

Anonimo ha chiesto:Hi in you bio parent au for monkie kid how were monkey king and macaque as teenagers when they had a good relationship were like they a romantic couple or had secret crushes on each other and never told each other or were they just friends love this au it's amazing

Oh I think they were definitely lovers once. And that makes their past and what happened even more tragic honestly.

@ayrza ha chiesto:I don't know who is more adorable: Baby MK or Macaque and Wukong blushingPsd. I love your AU and your art 💖

Both. Both is good

@diamondwolf23 ha chiesto:THOSE TWO BETTER KISSSSSSSSSSS-I’m gonna miss Baby Mk ;-

Me too. Me too.

Anonimo ha chiesto:You could say Wukong is a...... simpian?(like simian but yknow >>)

LMAO YES

@scififeather21 ha chiesto:You can't believe how much I love your Shadowpeach AU comic series that last part made me grin so much. Mostly because my husband and I have done that exact thing when our kids were small babies and the looks and smiles were the same too. OMG it such a nice thing to see after a long day at work yesterday. :)

THAT'S THE- SWEETEST THING?????? LIKE IM SO GLAD I WAS ABLE TO MAKE IT A SIMILAR EXPERIENCE???? TO HEAR IT'S THE SAME THAT HAPPENED TO YOU IS THE SWEETEST THING EVER

@snsp6 ha chiesto:I love ur bio dads au! I wanted to ask what would happen if smth similar to the baby mk incident happened to the immortal monkeys.Like either they were de-aged to their youth or had an amnesia rules type of situation!(I am in love w the world building in this!!! And ur art is delectable!)

I don't thing the world would be ready for non-reformed Wukong#like-#not really reformed but the guy killed so many people bc of impulsiveness#until he learned that murder is not fine

Anonimo ha chiesto: This might be a stupid question, but for your bio parents, AU is MK just always in his monkey form, or is this just how he permanently looks now?

He's on his monkey form when he trains / stays at the weekends at FFM or when he friendly duels/train with Mei and Red Son.On weekdays he's constantly in his human form

@meisawkwardashecc ha chiesto:Is Wukong potentially shorter than Macaque? 👀🥺Avatar

Yes

@miraclecactus ha chiesto:Can you show us what's going on in the Freenoodles house? I'm looking forward to knowing how they manage to calm MK down :( Puedes mostrarnos que es lo que sucede en la casa de Freenoodles? Estoy ansiosa de conocer como ellos manejan el como calmar a MK :(

They used Wukong and Mac advices until he feel asleep.

Anonimo ha chiesto:I like how Wukong asks Macaque how he knows MK won't hate him after this. Like my guy, you literally killed Macaque, and he still hangs around I think he knows a thing or two

True. Although let Wukong be the dumbass he is.

alizardonfire ha chiesto:I love the idea of macaque being wukongs *rock* if that makes sense? It gives so much character to him.

Aaaahh ty! Yeah I feel like he's pretty good at understanding when he s just out of his mind and bring him back to earth.

Anonimo ha chiesto:If this isn't to much spoiler will the next lmk comic be angsty

This will be answered too late but I will always warn you in advance if there s angst coming.

Anonimo ha chiesto:I love your art! Lighthearted question since your about to bring the pain- do you think Mac and Wu fight over who gets to be little spoon/big spoon or are both of them 100% happy with Mac as big spoon and Wu as little spoon every night

So as for now, they are good with Wukong being the little spoon. Both bc Wukong is the the one who constantly craves for touch amd bc Macaque feels more comfortable in a position of "control" let's say. He can decide how much closer or not to get to Wukong.

Then in the future they would be more comfortable to switch (and the bicker about who should be the big or small)

@sallyvanna ha chiesto:HAIII FIRST OF ALL I LOVE YOUR BIO PARENT AU it makes my day every time I see a new page postedI was just wondering, why was macaque kinda nervous when he summoned rumble and savage? He was like 'ah shit I didn't want that-' 👀

It was because the kid would be afraid of them! Of course he wouldn't. But I guess Macaque still feels like his powers are a threat to him.

@redwrathroit ha chiesto:Hey, note this is something you can completely ignore but I wanted to know if you had a ref sheet for your monkey Bois, I'd love to take a try and drawing them plus I had made an Oc character of my own but I did it once and then art block hit me like a train and said; nah, never again. So it would really help me out if you have a ref, if not ignore this and have a nice day/night

Unfortunately I don't. I have a lot of panels where you can see them full body in various stances though.

Anonimo ha chiesto:Wukong being the little spoon is too cute, he spends years being the big spoon platonically to everyone that someone finally gave him what was needed, to be protected instead of being the protector

Yesss he iss!!!!!!

@froggyofdeath ha chiesto:Question abt Shadowpeach bio parents! Sooo, who kills the spiders, who screaming abt them, who the one who picks it up and try to scare the screaming one?🫠✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️☕️☕️☕️☕️

Mk is screaming, Wukong picks it up, Macaque kills it.

Anonimo ha chiesto:Can we see exactly when they decided to prepare the courtnapping room? Like when exactly did they know oh we need to prepare that our son has apparently followed in our footsteps

Unfortunately in this AU for now I don't plan tp draw a full spicynoodle arc as well. There will be moments for the ship as well but more like extras and side stories.

Anonimo ha chiesto:Your shadowpeach bio au reminds me of something..... I remember you saying to someone that they should Read a Son of Two Dad's. Have you read the entire thing? and the sequel?

Yes I did! Also the sequel, but i think it s in hiatus.

Anonimo ha chiesto:In you newest update for the shadowpeach parent au, that one scene of Macaque looking at Wukong as MK holds his finger kind of reminds me those flashback scenes in movies of the dead lover/wife that is looking at the main character from under a flowing blanket. I have no clue why but the image popped up in my head when I read that part of the comic lmao

I bet when they are back together they will re-create this exact image eventually

Anonimo ha chiesto:I love that Macaque is initiating contact with Wukong. Hugging him, holding his hands, cuddling with him. It makes my heart melt 🥹🥰 And Wukong is giving him opportunities to do so

He is opening the door for Mac to come closer, so that it's his choice how much he can get closer. The last thing Wukong wants is to rush things or do something that would make him more uncomfortable.

Anonimo ha chiesto:Omg! I love your art especially your shadowpeach parent bio au, it's adorable! Although I'm terrified for the next page. Anyway, my question is, why won't you let the monkey trio breathe from the trauma? 😅🥹

Bc apparently chat asked for it

[silkscream]

triple seven

ੈ✩ megumi fushiguro x reader

ੈ✩ synopsis: megumi thought it was for the best when he ended things with you. boy, was he wrong.

ੈ✩ tags: fwb, pining, teasing, mentions of virginity loss, sub!megumi, bratty and dom!reader, masturbation, vaginal sex, riding

ੈ✩ wc: 3.8k

ੈ✩ a/n: this started out as something completely different and then i lost the plot bc i wanted to see megumi squirm. unedited. oopsie

“Megumi.”

He winces when you wave your hand in front of his face, snapping his attention back to earth. He was staring at your legs and zoned out. Again. 

“What’s with you?”

“Sleep-deprived,” he mumbles. He’s not wrong. 

Megumi has been having trouble sleeping lately and it’s only partially your fault. Most of it is pent-up energy. Sometimes his usual malaise would wax and wane, other times it would linger and grow into a different beast entirely. He felt like he was constantly on a short fuse lately, and it didn’t help that Gojo was teasing him more and more about you. 

Not to mention that the thought of you alone would keep him up. The two of you hadn’t fucked in a month — the last time  (to Megumi’s chagrin)  he had sex at all. He liked you enough to kiss you and considered you a closer friend than most. Months ago, he wanted to get the whole losing your virginity thing over with, so you volunteered. And it was good. 

Fuck, it was great. He couldn’t get you out of his head and he hated it. 

He knows it’s something more. He refuses to admit it. After his first time, he’d meditated for days over it — did you pity him? Were you just easy? Did you like him? He wasn’t sure if you had any previous relationships. Something small and shriveled inside of him wanted to disappear, hoping that he was special for getting your attention. You were the first person to take him apart wholly, the first to make him come undone. Willingly.

And you kept coming back. Two months and he was full of you, a parasite that he couldn’t get out of his system. 

His gaze fixates on the curve of your bare shoulder. Your collarbone. You’re wearing a tank top and sweatpants and he wants to curse you for it. He feels like he’s fucking sixteen.

“You should get some sleep, then,” you say with concern. “You don’t have to stay, y’know.”

“No!” he says a bit too quickly. “I’m– I’m fine. Just… distracted. Sorry.”

You narrow your eyes, sizing him up. It makes his heart skip.

“Something’s bothering you. What is it?” you tilt your head. 

He could spill his feelings into word vomit. He could. But he refuses to. He wouldn’t be able to deal with the consequences. The humiliation. You only slept with him for so long to throw him a bone — it wasn’t like you were into him. He has to keep telling himself this, to talk down the slow-cooking heat in his gut that taunts him. It made him break things off in the first place. He couldn’t take it, was averse to this odd softness that fluttered in his chest every time you smiled at him.

After a particularly intimate night, one that ended with the both of you cuddling — he wasn’t someone who cuddled, for Christ’s sake — he panicked and made a dumb, boyish excuse to break things off. I don’t want anything serious. I don’t want to lead you on. You, being an angel, were very agreeable while Megumi’s heart felt like a fucking dumpster fire. Devastatingly so.

You’re usually sincere. Blunt to a fault, but he likes that about you. He admires the fire in your eyes when you say exactly what you mean, not caring about what others think. He likes how your eyes light up when you argue about anything, even something trivial, because you know you’ll win with your wit alone. He likes —

Fuck. He likes you.

Megumi swallows a lump in his throat and it feels like an oversized pill. One for a reality check. His heart is pounding and his palms are sweating and you’re looking at him very expectantly, waiting. He doesn’t have an answer for you. 

Unbeknownst to him, you already have an idea.

“Megs,” you chuckle, punching him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Don’t call me that,” he scowls. 

He can’t help the uncontrollable blush rising on his face. He’s always hated his paleness for this reason. There are light bruises where there shouldn’t be because he doesn’t usually lose fights, but he was so distracted during his sparring match with you this afternoon that he’d humiliated himself. You pinned him down like it was nothing and he was hard as a rock all the way to the locker rooms.

“What? Megs?” 

He feels his irritation rise. 

“Yes. It’s annoying.”

You scoff. 

“You always do that,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

“Do what?”

“Scoff like that. Like you don’t take anything I say seriously.”

You frown and it makes him feel guilty. 

“I never said that. Why are you so moody all of a sudden?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. What’s wrong? Are you mad I beat you in training today?”

“No!” he grits. “And that wasn’t – you just caught me off guard!”

“Ha. Okay, asshole.”

Megumi glares at you, left eye twitching. He would always get into petty arguments like this, especially when the two of you were still fucking. It would end with him restraining you — you let him, often taunted him until he did it, because you knew he was a control freak. He hated that he could feel his pants tighten at the memories conjuring  in his mind while you sat there, brow raised and challenging him. He wanted to pin you down.

He blinks, deciding to glare at the floor instead. He shouldn’t be thinking about sex while he’s fighting with you. Was he even fighting with you? He was annoyed. Annoyed and frustrated and ready to strangle you if you pushed him further, which he sensed you were about to do just because you could.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?” you pout. “You won’t even look at me.”

“God. Shut up.”

“Thought you liked my mouth wide open,” you taunt.

That one pisses Megumi off. You were always so carefree, so crass, not bothering to care about anything that came out of your mouth whether you meant it or not. Megumi didn’t hate it, exactly, but he found it ironic that it bothered him when he’d grown up so abrasive. All jagged edges, the middle school bully. And yet, he was always quiet and stoic and calculated now. He wouldn’t dare say something so… vulgar. 

He clenches his jaw and refuses to look at you. Again, his gaze falls on your bare skin. He wants to mark it up, sink his teeth in you to show you a lesson, but he knows you’d probably like that, the brat you are. Maybe you’d let him just once – you’re goading him anyway, right?

“Are you trying to push my buttons on purpose?” he scoffs. “I’ve had a shitty day and you’re not helping.”

“Then just talk about it.”

“It’s fine,” he huffs. “Doesn’t matter anyway.”

You roll your eyes.

“What?”

“What?” you repeat innocently. He was seeing red and you knew it. It was secretly refreshing to Megumi that you never backed down from him, didn’t care that he would be mean. You could always be meaner.

“Don’t mock me.”

“Jesus. I thought we were studying. Now you’re acting like Nobara when she’s on her period.”

“I just feel… frustrated, okay?”  he says. “I don’t know.”

He braces himself for what you’ll say next. Probably roll your eyes again, call him bitch boy. 

“Haven’t found anyone else to suck your dick yet?” you mutter.

“Excuse me?”

You stare at him, your gaze descending slowly. It’s only then that Megumi realizes he’s hard. 

“Fuck you,” he replies. He doesn’t know what else to say. 

“Bet you wanna.”

“No. We’re not. We’re not doing that anymore, remember?” he says bitterly. His body is humming with need, suddenly desperate now that you’ve clocked his arousal, but he won’t let you know. 

“Yeah, but you want it,” you snort, rubbing his thigh with your hand. He shivers at the contact and curses under his breath that maybe Itadori or Gojo will demand his presence for no reason so he can get out of your room without trying.

He stares at your fingers drumming a pattern on his pant leg. Long fingers, manicured nicely from your girl trips with Kugisaki. There’s a ring on your middle finger that he won you a month ago from a claw machine. Silver-plated plastic, if he had to guess, but the signet is still shiny. Triple sevens engraved for good luck. 

“You still wear that?”

You look down at your hand. “Oh, this? Yeah. It’s probably the only ring I own.”

Megumi takes your hand and  examines the way the plastic glistens when the lamp on your bedside table hits it right. He hums, almost satisfied. 

“Why?” he blurts out.

You blink at him. “Uh, I don’t know. One of the few gifts I’ve gotten that I can wear, I guess. It’s cute.”

He exhales and nods slowly. He curls your fingers into a fist and sets your hand down.

You cough awkwardly, eyeing his crotch. “You’re, uh—”

“Shut up,” he mumbles. 

��I can help. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Megumi doesn’t realize how close he’s leaning in. He could bump noses with you if he leans in just a few inches. He could taste your breath if he wanted. He clears his throat, not protesting when your hand grazes his thigh again and moves upward.

“Fine,” he mumbles. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes.

You scan his face, looking for a sign of hesitation. When you don’t find one, you kneel on the floor, your body in between his legs as you pull down the zipper of his pants. You palm him gently and watch his reaction.

“F-Fuck,” Megumi gasps. 

“Sensitive,” you mumble, moving your head to hover against his thick length. He nearly chokes when you descend with your tongue swirling at his tip.

He blinks down at you, eyes wide at the revelation that you’re on your knees for him. He takes a fistful of your hair and tugs gently.

“Wait, wait–”

You pause. “What?”

“Um.”

“You don’t want it?”

“Of course I want it. I just don’t — I don’t wanna use you like this,” he mumbles. 

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. You don’t — you don’t have to. Really. I can deal with it myself.”

You narrow your eyes, pumping him slowly. “Yeah?”

He gasps sharply, his entire body tensing up at the sensation. 

“Fuck, don’t — I can take care of it. I’ll just — I can go,” he mutters, his voice strangled. “I don’t need – nngh –”

You let go of him. “Okay.”

He whines as you let him go, his hips suddenly bucking up in an aborted attempt to get you to touch him again. 

“No – wait,” he gasps, closing his eyes as he gets himself back under control. “Don’t… don’t do that.”

“You want to take care of it yourself, don’t you?”

He lets out a frustrated huff, the expression on his face almost pained. 

“I can’t,” he murmurs, meeting your eyes. He’s desperate, you notice. His green eyes are pleading. He’s never been like this before. “I won’t be able to do it. I’ll just end up thinking about you.”

Your eyes widen. “You still think about me?”

Megumi’s face is struck with panic, realizing his confession. He can’t take it back now, not when his cock is hard and leaking and you’re right in front of him. He gives you a withering look and grips the sheets beneath him. 

“Say it.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I think about you.”

“How often?” you breathe, rubbing his thigh.

“All the time,” he strains, his eyes glued to your face. “Even when I ended things, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I felt fucking crazy. I still do.”

You swallow, leaning back onto your pillows. “I’m here now. You can look at me.”

“I don’t want to just look at you,” he grumbles. “I want — ugh.”

“You want what?”

He grits his teeth, too prideful to beg for your touch, though he knows he’s already too far gone with how much he’s given away. He needs you, aches for your fingers wrapped around his cock, for your mouth. He feels stupid for denying it and he doesn’t know how to convince you to help him without sounding like a desperate idiot.

He mumbles unintelligibly, leaning forward to reach for you, but you take his wrist and gently press it down to the mattress in rejection. His eyes flicker with worry.

“What are you doing?” he exasperates.

“Focus on yourself.”

Megumi blushes. Pink permeates his pale flesh like diluted blood.  He must sound so needy, so pathetic when he hasn’t even gauged what you want. You’d offered to take care of him, but he’s still panicking about whether you meant it. 

You were always more comfortable about sex, and it’s not like you had a crush on him. You just had more experience. It was why you bothered sleeping with him in the first place, he reminds himself. 

“I–”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you coo, smiling softly. “I can see you’re aching. Keep going. I wanna see you.”

He almost whines as his shoulders tense up at your words. Megumi is walking on a thin tightrope and he isn’t sure if you’re there to reassure him or ready to push him off the edge. Either way, he is aching for it. For anything, for you. 

“You’re enjoying this. You’re taunting me.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

He looks at you, huffing out an exasperated breath as he contemplates what to do. He needs to relieve himself, but he wants you to do it. He doesn’t want to give in and start stroking himself despite your encouragement — it makes him feel like a stupid little doll.

“I– I want to touch you,” he mutters.

“Touch yourself first.”

He lets out a noise between a groan and a scoff. His hand wraps around his shaft, but he doesn’t move. He gasps lightly when you grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him, leaving him to pull off the fabric until he’s completely bare.

“You’re just — going to watch?” he chokes out.

“Yeah.”

“You’re crazy.”

“And yet you’re still this fucking hard,” you scoff.

He groans at your words. Your attitude had always turned him on, despite how annoying he found it. He liked you defiant, bratty. This side of you is a completely different realm entirely.

“Stop… staring at me,” he rasps as he slowly strokes himself. “It’s weird.”

“What, is my face distracting you?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes and begin to strip. “Fine. Don’t look at my face then.”

His breath catches as your bare skin is revealed with each pull of fabric until you’re completely nude. He’s seen you naked so many times before — he doesn’t know why it feels like the first time right now. He can’t help but watch you intently, mesmerized. 

When you smirk, he huffs and averts his eyes. “You’re the fucking worst, you know that?”

He gasps when you lean over his lap and spit on his cock. The drool coming from your lips is such a filthy sight that he could probably come just from seeing it. He shuts his eyes tightly for a second. 

“Go on, baby,” you coo. 

Megumi lets out a frustrated breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he pumps himself. 

“Why are you just watching?”

“I wanna see what you look like when you miss me.”

The grin on your face is so fucking sinister that it almost makes him nervous. Mostly it turns him on. He doesn’t even know why he’s complying – it’s not like you’ve fucking tied him up. He could stop this sick little game right now and pin you to the bed and overpower you. Maybe fuck you until you’re red all over and panting. But he can’t find it in himself to do anything other than what you want.

He’s aching and desperate. Why are you punishing him, anyway? Sure, he could be a bit of an asshole, but it’s not like he broke your heart any more than you broke his by fucking existing and looking like that —

Your hand rubs his bare thigh gently and he moans. He moans from the contact like a bitch and you laugh. 

“Damn,” you chuckle. “Someone missed me.”

“Shut up,” he mutters. “You know I – fuck – you know I missed you. I wanna touch you instead, fuck –”

“I know, baby,” you coo. Your hand is so close to where he wants it and his brain short-circuits.

“You don’t have to just watch,” he pleads without trying to sound completely pathetic, but it’s hard when he’s rigorously stroking himself, affected by your mere presence. He feels like he’s going to explode.

Your hand slowly inches towards his cock and he involuntarily bucks his hips up. He lets out a strangled groan when he realizes that he’s so, so close. Your touch feels so far away. He feels like he might start crying.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” you praise him. 

He bite backs a moan and grits his teeth. His knuckles are bone-white as he squeezes his cock. “I’m not your — ugh — sweetheart —”

“Yeah, you are,” you tease. “You’re my baby, aren’t you?”

He whines as his hand moves even faster on himself. His other hand clenches around the sheets of the bed, grasping at nothing.

“Yeah,” he admits, breathless. “I’m yours – fuck – I’ll be anything you want if you just… let me touch you. Please –”

“You’re doing so well on your own, baby.”

“Fuck, stop talking,” Megumi groans. “I need you. I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t feel you —”

“I’ll let you kiss me, how about that? But you can’t touch me.”

He whines again hysterically, though he knows there’s no room to argue with you. He leans in. You laugh before you step forward and tower over him. You grab his chin roughly to kiss him. He makes a low, strangled sound as he leans in, aching to touch you but mentally berating himself. He knows you’d swat him away and stop kissing him if he tried anything. 

You break away from the kiss but keep a hand around his throat.  He whimpers at the loss of your mouth, easing into a gasp when he feels the squeeze of your fingers around his neck. His gaze is longing as he looks up, mouth parted. 

“Keep going, baby. You’re close, aren’t you?” you whisper.

“Please,” he gasps, hips bucking up as if expecting friction from anything other than his own hand. He’s never needed anything as much as he’s needed you at this moment. It burns hot in his gut and up to his head, making him lightheaded. “Please let me touch you… wanna feel you…”

“Shh,” you coo, kissing his cheek. “You can come, can’t you? You’re almost there.”

He nods and closes his eyes. “I need–”

“You need me? You want me, yeah? Show me.”

“Fuck, I need you,” Megumi pants. “Want you so bad. I love you. Please, please –”

Your eyes widen at his admission. Megumi is so delirious with want that you almost don’t recognize him – you know that he would usually blush at a confession like that, especially one  he didn’t mean. But he still looks at you with dark eyes, silently begging. 

You kiss him deeply and he moans. His other hand holds you firmly, snakes into your hair to get a good grasp of you so you can’t move away from his mouth. The hand on his cock moves at a brutal pace, his breaths coming out in ragged grunts. Fuck, he needs you so badly it hurts.

“Don’t cry, baby.”

“I can’t help it,” he says, voice breaking. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. His breath is trembling as his body shakes. “I need you, I need you, please…”

You grab his wrists forcefully and sink down onto him. His eyes widen at the feeling of your cunt around him. It’s too good. It feels like a fucking dream, how warm and wet you are, and he knows he’s had you so many times before, but it still  feels like the first time. He’s been denying himself this pleasure and now you’ve given him heaven. 

“Fuck, fucking love you, love how you feel,” he rambles, barely intelligible for you to understand clearly. You’re clinging to him, bouncing on his cock until his eyes roll back. He doesn’t even realize the tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you gasp.

“Me too,” Megumi grunts, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he moves you back and forth on his cock. He’s struggling to make coherent sentences, coherent thoughts. He can feel your approaching orgasm and groans when you finally tighten around him.

The sounds you make when you come push him over the edge. He spills inside of you, his head pounding blood from his ears from the dizzying rush that comes. It’s all too much. He lets out a strangled gasp as he digs his fingertips into the skin of your waist as if he’s afraid you’ll fly away. 

You slump into his chest, arms around his neck tightly. The air is filled with your mutual heavy breaths, air warm with carnal tension. He doesn’t have the guts to look at your face, but he doesn’t have it in him to let you go. 

Megumi lifts his head and exhales into your mouth. You’re so close to him, noses touching, and he has to resist the urge to kiss you. He buries his face into your neck instead, craving the smell of your sweat, of dryer sheet sweetness. Even after such an intense release, he wants more. Wants to trap you in his arms so that you can never leave him again, tape your mouth shut so you don’t argue with him. He doesn’t want to explain himself.

You hum, cheek grazing the outline of his jaw in a cat-like embrace. Megumi closes his eyes.

“You said you loved me.”

He says nothing. His body stills.

“It’s okay if you didn’t mean it,” you whisper.

“What if I did?”

You lift your head to look at him head-on. Your expression is unfathomable. A familiar face that he wants to grasp in his mind, keep forever, though he isn’t sure if you’re about to slip away.

“Then the feeling is mutual,” you mutter.

“Then... then I do mean it.”

Your mouth quirks up, almost into a smile, in between a sneer. “If you’re lying, I’ll kill you.”

“I’m not lying,” Megumi gruffs. “And if I was such a coward that I said otherwise, I’d let you kill me.”

You laugh, then. It’s like flowers blooming, like his heart growing too big for his chest.

“I’ll hold you to that, baby.”

[sarahreesbrennan]

Quick Evil Note

To all my wicked darlings, I have now received rather a lot of messages asking me about the influences of Long Live Evil. And I wish to get messages about LLE and truly appreciate the ones I do get! And I wish to answer them. But answers about influences are tricky.

The book has been out in the US for a little over two weeks, and it’s going so well so far, I couldn’t be more delighted and appreciative about its reception.

But also I’ve been informed (not asked) that two of my characters are obviously somehow both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy of Harry Potter, and Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji of Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation. (Very puzzling as I don’t think these pairings - and one isn’t a pair - have much in common with each other or with mine. Vague hostility against a vaguely academic backdrop for a bit? For the record… in the book everyone is an adult and I don’t even have any academic backdrops to be vaguely hostile in front of…) This hasn’t happened to me in a long time, because I haven’t had an original novel out in a long time due to illness, and it is upsetting to always be discussed differently than writers who didn’t openly link their real names to their fan identity.

I have very different feelings and new appreciation for fandom than I once had. It’s been amazing to see and meet people who have stuck with me for decades. People are generally way more open and affectionate to and within fandom than they once were. Love matters to me a good deal more than hate. But getting death threats in your early 20s for excitedly telling your Internet friends you were going to publish a book does mark the psyche, and so does having your characters dismissed as other people’s characters.

And we can say there is nothing wrong with fanfiction or writing fanfiction and there isn’t! Fanfiction is great and can be genius. Terry Pratchett wrote Jane Austen fanfiction, and didn’t (and shouldn’t) have people saying Captain Wentworth = Captain Vimes. Still, when a TV show is discussed as ‘like fanfiction’ or when Diana Gabaldon said she didn’t like fanfiction and many said ‘YOU write fanfiction’ it isn’t intended in any kind spirit, even when it’s fannish folk saying it. And it’s just generally odd to have everyone call your apple a tomato, and has had professional consequences for me in the past.

However! All the asks I’ve received have been very kind, and I do want to answer them. I do want to talk about my influences because they are manifold and because I actually think it’s important to always talk about influences. I don’t believe stories exist in isolation - we tell tales in a rich tradition, and also a story doesn’t come alive to me all the way until it’s heard or read.

Long Live Evil is a love letter to fandom: it’s chock full of references to many many stories I’ve loved, to fairytales, myths and legend and Internet memes and epic fantasy and meta. My acknowledgements are endless partly for this reason. I do owe a great debt to many portal fantasies and archetypes and musicals and jokes about genre and plays through the ages, though I do think of my characters as themselves and nobody else.

I was frankly tempted to go ‘Yes I stole EVERYTHING! Bwhahaha!’ But while I am thoroughly enjoying and finding great freedom in my villain era, I do want to talk sincerely to you all as well, especially when asked sincerely interested questions.

But I’m a little scared to do so and have people say ‘AHA! Now we know what it’s fanfiction of’ (it’s happened before) or ignore me and go ‘we know the truth!’ (it’s happened before) and to feel like I’ve injured my book. Long Live Evil means more to me than any other and I really want to get talking about it right, and make sure it has the best reception I can give it.

So. Questions on all Evil topics very very welcome but answers to influence questions may come slowly. Bear with me. I am working on this!

[thepersonperson]

Gege is doing to his characters what they did to jfk there's so much character assassination happening djsjdsnsdjn

This ask was sent to me shortly after I complained about JJK 269 leaks. (Aka before JJK 270's release so be nice to them.) And while I still agree that chapter contained character assassinations, JJK 270 has given me a good reason for them. 

Since my other post related to this topic was trimmed down by Tumblr’s 30 image limit, I’m going to use this ask as an excuse to this burning question...

Why does everyone feel so out of character in JJK 268–270?

Notes before we start.

1) Read the light novels. They are the equivalent of Bleach's CFYOW for JJK. There is a fan translation (Book 1 & Book 2), but I will be citing the official translation from my own copies.

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility. 

4) Written as of JJK 270.

5) Read the light novels.

(Another extremely 'hear me out' discussion under the cut. Click pictures for captions/citations.)

Preface

This post is banking on the framework I set up in the previous related post so please read/skim over it. (If you don't? Just hear me out!)

Short Summary of the Previous Related Post:

Yuji is projecting a massive delusion onto Megumi that gives him a happy ending. JJK 268–270 is a mesh of Yuji and Megumi’s memories and dreams that serve to rationalize all that’s happened to them in a way that allows them to forgive themselves. Sukuna’s vessel memories are probably mixed in too.

Because of this I’m assuming the following:

>The battle recollection in JJK 269 is Yuji constructing explanations from his, Megumi, and Sukuna’s memories during their battle. Neither of these 3 ever knew the plan in full. This can explain why so much of the battle recollection is wrong.

>The characters we see outside of Yuji and Megumi are constructs based on their memories of these people. They’re more like representations than the actual characters.

I don’t know if it means they’re dead or not, but that doesn’t matter. I want to explore the way the characters feel off can be explained by them being memory constructs.

In the previous post, I used "Without love it cannot be seen." from Umineko to give my best faith reading of these past 3 chapters I've hated so much. This time the tool I'll be using is:

"Flipping over the chessboard."

This refers to how one should try to see things from a different perspective.

Memory in JJK

A neat touch that has always been around in JJK is characters remembering others as they last saw them. When Gojo recalls his best students, Hakari has a very different hair style from when we meet him. His recollection of Yuta's is accurate though. When Panda recalls Yuta, the hairstyle differs from what Gojo recalls. And when he recalls Kiara, he mistakenly refers to her as a guy.

This all can be explained by considering when Gojo and Panda last saw these characters. Gojo last saw Yuta in Kenya with Miguel where he changed his hairstyle. Panda hasn't seen Yuta since he's left the country. Neither Gojo or Panda have seen Hakari and Kiara for a very long time.

Their memories reflect how they last knew them. Kiara is a whole girl now and Hakari is blond. But if Panda and Gojo never saw them again? Those memories would be true to them, even if it’s no longer accurate.

And sometimes the memories aren’t accurate. See this side by side recollection of Gojo meeting Megumi from both of their perspectives.

I believe Gojo’s memory of this event is the accurate one because he’s 19 when it happens, not under distress when he recalls it, and has the Six Eyes which act like a supercomputer. Megumi’s memory is iffy because he’s 6 when it happens, has a head injury that knocks him out when he recalls this, and doesn’t have perception enhancing abilities. And though Megumi can’t recall the memory in its truest form, what he does remember still tells us a lot about his feelings towards the event and his relationship with Gojo.

The emotions child Megumi felt at the time distort what Gojo was actually like back then. Instead of a benefactor, he’s a suspicious weirdo with a funny face. The heart behind Gojo crouching down to his level, being way too honest with him, trying to give him options, patting him on the head—it’s all missing.

With all this in mind, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume Megumi and Yuji’s impressions of other characters via memory would influence how they appear in these delusions too. Yuji’s impressions probably take the most precedence since I think his will is shaping the delusions the most.

Recalling Incomplete Information 

Yuji is very good at understanding people. He can intuit their feelings and sync up with them easily. (I go over this in greater detail in this post.) But that doesn’t mean he fully understands their hearts. He gets close enough to their core to bond with them, but the little details aren’t quite right. 

If all the characters (save Megumi) we’ve been seeing in JJK 268–270 are constructs based on Yuji’s perception of them, I think this can explain everything off about them.

What made me consider this possibility was JJK 270. There’s this pattern I keep seeing... Characters’ motivations being misunderstood and being resolved by scenarios that aren’t quite right. Every time I try to explain what exactly is wrong with them, assuming their inconsistencies align with Yuji’s perception of them solves the problem.

Amai Rin

Rin is introduced as a coward. He’s unable to fight and goes along with the whims of those stronger than him to avoid getting hurt. This is why he keeps his head low as his friend is being harassed by bullies during his Jr. High days. Still, he tries to help. Just not at a risk to himself.

When Yuji saves his friend and beats all the bullies up, he turns to Rin and assumes he was part of the bully group. This simply isn’t true. He was a bystander. That’s why it’s weird for him to apologize like he was the one who beat the guy up.

Yuji’s false impression of Rin, one where he’s a bully that feels guilt over his actions, explains this. Rin’s actual guilt comes from him being a bystander—someone who doesn’t take action for others when something is wrong. He dealt with that in the Culling Games by helping Yuji and risking his life to save Angel. And he really stepped out of his comfort zone to join the medical team for the Sukuna battle. He might be the reason Yuta survived. (Yuji doesn’t know about that though.)

And what’s this? Here Yuji outright admits he doesn’t fully understand what kind of person Rin is. All he knows is that he did some good things and is trying to become a better person. So now we’ve got this other Rin that’s apologizing for something he didn’t do for the redemption he’s already earned.

(And that’s the pattern! Rin’s motivation is misunderstood by Yuji so he’s doing something that seems out of character to us readers, but is perfectly in character for Yuji’s perception of him. When I apply it to everyone else. Everything makes sense.)

Takaba Fumihiko

What Yuji knows about Takaba is pre-Kenjaku development. Yuji knows the Takaba that speaks over others, rejects their criticisms, and insists he’s funny. That’s kind of what he’s doing to Totally Not Kenjaku. In reality, Kenjaku caused Takaba to reflect on his approach to comedy and they are nearly in perfect sync by the end of it. Kenjaku satisfied Takaba.

Yuji didn’t see that battle and he hasn’t spoken to Takaba since. So he’s constructed a happy ending where Takaba has found his partner and is working towards the show of his dreams that already happened.

I also want to note that Takaba is 100% ok with sex jokes. Kenjaku makes one and he doesn’t object to it. This is just another little detail that makes everything so slightly off.

Higuruma Hiromi

Yuji knows that Higurama wants to go back to his roots. He knows that he feels guilt over killing people.

What he doesn’t know is that Higurama’s roots are him being a defense lawyer that cherishes the flaws of humanity. He doesn't want to ever look away from the impurities that even Yuji has. That’s why I think Yuji resolves his problems with him becoming a sorcerer who saves lives.

Yuji seems to think that Higuruma is like him. He’ll make up for the lives he’s taken via sorcery by saving more. That’s something he could assume from their convo, but that’s not actually what Higuruma wants. He wants to fundamentally change Japan’s legal system for the better in his own way.

Kurusu Hana

She’s the most in character of the bunch. In fact, there’s nothing out of character about her interaction with Megumi. What she represents is Yuji misunderstanding Megumi’s desires.

Yuji understands that Megumi’s type is someone with an unwavering humanity (literally the definition of Yuji’s name) via access to his memories. But for some reason (he’s kind of dumb academically), he thinks this means Hana is perfect for him. 

I think this is because Hana meets Yuji’s definition of a good person. She’s just like Megumi. She saves others for a selfish purpose. And that means…Hana does not meet Megumi’s definition of a good person. Not once has he considered her saving others as selfless. (...But Yuji has.)

And that’s just facts. Hana is kind of unhinged. She’s extremely possessive of Megumi and saves others solely to win him over. Yuji saves others because it’s the right thing to do.

Megumi’s preferences are Yuji, not Hana. Which has led to the most awkward confession and rejection scene. That might have clued Yuji in to construct an alternative. In the memory Yuji is probably recalling, Todo does clock Megumi as someone into dudes.  …The very next scene is Yuji hitting on a dude in front of his gf in a way that causes him to blush. (Yuji has not once complimented someone’s body up to this point if I recall correctly. And he’s been around some beefy dudes.)

(Yeah Nobara me too. Second most leftfield possible bisexual confirmation I’ve read in a manga. The first will always be from Baki the Grappler.)

Is this Yuji letting Megumi know it’s ok to come onto him? Is he not initiating because Hana’s forwardness freaked Megumi out? It’s possible. 

What this suggests is that Yuji is kind of fine tuning this whole delusion to make Megumi as content as possible. It’s telling that the moment Megumi starts getting super uncomfortable the scene jumps to something else.

It happens at the beginning of the chapter too. Gojo is mentioned by Shoko in a way that causes Megumi to pause. And Bam! Change scene.

Anyways, I hope this demonstrates that Yuji working with the limited information from memories is most likely the reason for everything being so funky. It’s character assassination by accident.

Why make these happy endings when this is all for Megumi?

Two reasons as to why I think Yuji is trying to give everyone a plausible happy ending.

1) He genuinely wants them to live good lives.

2) It has to be believable for Megumi to accept them as real and forgive himself.

This line may have been about Yuji, but Megumi’s not any different. He blames himself in the exact same way Yuji blames himself.

I also think there's something to be said about Yuji crafting a dream that resembles the perfect cookie cutter Shonen ending. The guy gets with girl he has no chemistry with. All these complicated plot lines are wrapped up with a neat little bow. Everyone lives and goes on like nothing traumatic happened.

Yuji is a big fan of Shonen. Straight up his final move against Sukuna is a Hunter X Hunter reference. That's not just Gege doing a reference as a fan, Yuji himself is a fan of that manga.

I think Yuji is trying to make this fiction a reality because it's the only way he knows how to cope with his trauma.

JJK 269’s Character “Assassinations”

I promise I still hate this chapter. But I won’t deny how fun it is to pretend these are all delusions Yuji created for Megumi’s sake. I went over Kusakabe to cut him some slack in the previous post, so let’s do everyone else.

(The chapter’s formatting as one long unending nightmare makes it hard to separate this stuff out by the character. I’m just going to do groups this time.)

The 2nd Years

The most common complaint from readers outside of Kusakabe telling Yuji he should’ve died is Maki being really fudging mean to Yuta. Maki is mean, but she’s not that mean. You could assume this is her showing Yuta she cares and that her anger scales with worry but… Here’s a side by side comparison of her getting angry over Yuta risking his life in Vol 0 vs JJK 269.

Pretty big difference I think. Here is a Maki with a Yuta she thinks is about to die vs a Maki with a Yuta who is 100% ok. And the only reason she even gets mad in Vol 0 is because she had no idea Yuta did something that risky. Maki already knew Yuta was going to body hop if all else failed, so her reaction here is disproportionate, especially since he survived.

Speaking of survival, the first thing Maki, Panda, and Inumaki do when Yuta survives in Vol 0 is ask if he’s ok and thank him for saving them. This doesn’t happen in JJK 269. They're all very protective of Yuta after the events of Vol 0. We see them defend him from Gojo for being a little mean about his training. They’re all against the plan because of how much they value him. The 3 of them not checking in on Yuta immediately after the fact is wildly OOC.

The explanation I have? This version of Maki is based on Yuji and Megumi’s memories of her. (And let’s remember that Megumi claims he can’t openly respect her and the other 2nd years outside of Yuta.) When Megumi and Nobara mourn Yuji’s “death”, Maki does this to them.

Maki also intimidated Yuji pretty bad when they first met. Her, Panda, and Inumaki went along with bullying Yuji after he came back to life. It makes sense that Yuji would up Maki’s meanness. He’s not been around her long enough to know she’s not like this when it comes to people she cares about. 

I do think it is weird Maki is pre-awakening levels of mean. This could also be Yuji trying to return to the time before everything went to absolute hell. Or...because she’s Yuji’s construct, this could be him expressing his anger at Yuta for defiling Gojo’s body in a very roundabout way. From both Yuji and Megumi’s perspective, Yuta didn’t discuss this beforehand and used it as a last second plan. And that’s kind of how the conversation goes. Everyone talks about Yuta’s Yujo plan like he didn’t clear it with them first.

It’s also telling that they harp on Yuta over Miguel and Larue. Miguel said no help unless Sukuna’s domain was down. Everyone except Yuji knew that. There was never a scenario where they’d help from the start. But to Yuji who only heard they might show up? It’s a missed opportunity.

Say if you were, trying to find a reason for such a horrific defiling of a loved one’s body. Wouldn’t you try to reconstruct the crime by considering the motives and methods? That would help give you some closure, right?

I think that’s what Yuji is doing for himself and Megumi. Yuji is trying to figure out why things went the way they did through a blend of what Sukuna intuited and what makes the most sense to someone who never had full knowledge of the plan. 

And if you think about it, this is still a happy ending for them. They’re all absolved of their guilt surrounding the outcome of the battle. Even if they screwed up, they’re all still alive and able to move forward in a better world. They did the best they could, so it’s time to move on from what happened to Gojo. Thinking about that too much would break someone.

Mei Mei and Ui Ui

Mei Mei is out of character in a way that’s unique compared to everyone else. She’s still herself, but with less…yikes. It’s odd since Yuji has seen how awful Mei Mei can be and is deeply uncomfortable with how she treats Ui Ui. He’s not missing information about her motives so why have we gone from this to this?

I propose this is an extension of Yuji’s denialism. (We’ve seen how avoidant he is with Gojo’s death.) Mei Mei is grooming Ui Ui and has made it clear this is all for money. Ui Ui is being abused, but he’s so attached to his abuser that separation would break him. How do you make a happy ending out of that?

Well, you can soften those edges. Spin a tale where Mei Mei is an over-doting sister who would kill for her cute little brother. She doesn’t touch him inappropriately, she just plays with him. She loves money as much as him! No abuse here! She’s not someone who would kill a child for cash.

And in a weird way this whole Simple Domain debacle mirrors Gojo killing the higher ups. If Maki is Yuji's rage towards the Yujo plan, then this could be him trying to process his mentor slaughtering a bunch of old people in mass for his sake.

It probably helps that Yuji wasn’t there to see Mei Mei tell Ui Ui to die for her. There’s no way he knows she was paid to help kill him either.

Mei Mei doesn’t care about the well-being of other people. She’s just a hardcore capitalist who loves money and will do anything for it. But this version of her can be less terrible to Ui Ui while still getting her cash and that’s sort of ok I guess? Yuji has moved on from this and so will I.

The Megumi & Nobara Problem

The 1st years going on like nothing happened after Sukuna has made readers feel betrayed. It flies in the face of everything that’s been established for them when it comes to mourning.

As stated in CFYOW, JJK Thorny Road at Dawn, Chapter 5: At the End of a Sidewalk, this is how the trio deals with grief.

Despite knowing Yuji for only 2 weeks his death screws with Megumi and Nobara pretty badly. In the manga, it looks like Nobara is more upset because she’s visibly in pain, but I think the light novels show they’re equally shaken. 

This is why the non-reaction to Gojo’s death makes no sense. Megumi has known Gojo for a decade. He’s 6 when he first meets him and 16 when he dies because Sukuna used his Cursed Technique (CT). Nobara knew Yuji for 2 weeks, and didn’t see him for another 3 months. In all that time, Gojo was her teacher. She knew him longer than Yuji. When she “dies” Gojo is on the same tier as Yuji and Megumi to her.

So why is it that in JJK 268, Nobara thinks of Gojo as a creep? Why did she toss his letter despite him being one of the people she thought of in death? 

Well… When Yuji came back from the dead via Gojo’s prank he heard Nobara say this.

Nobara is prone to saying out of pocket nonsense to people. If she thinks it, she says it. Yuji also doesn’t understand Nobara’s thought processes (Just like Amai Rin he admits it too!). Nobara tries to hide her feelings to appear tougher than she is sometimes. So I think Yuji has done to Nobara what he has done to Maki—upped the meanness and neglected the heart.

And though Nobara being a construct can explain her behavior, this still leaves us with Megumi who is definitely not one. Why is he acting like Gojo meant nothing to him?

Megumi in particular is super fragile when it comes to his feelings. This is how stressed he gets when he learns exactly why Tsumiki is in a coma.

She’s not even dead and he’s halfway to a mental breakdown. The idea that he can just look at her grave once after having a hand in her murder and move on this quickly makes no sense. Inadvertently killing his defacto guardian he’s been raised by for 10 years should be upsetting him to a similar degree. (Maki said Gojo treated him like a precious treasure!)

When Megumi is on the verge of death he thinks of Tsumiki, Yuji, and or Gojo. It’s always at least 1 of those 3. There’s no way Gojo dying and having his corpse reanimated for reasons Megumi might feel responsible for isn’t screwing him up.

Unless…Yuji is suppressing his memory on purpose. He can’t even cope with what happened to Gojo, how is Megumi supposed to? How can either of them forgive themselves for that if they acknowledge it in full?

When Sukuna tries to tell Megumi to give up, he looks miserable. Every time Sukuna has verbally kicked Yuji while he’s down, he’s done it with a big old smile and laugh. He doesn’t hold back and goes for the throat.

Sukuna is being very nice to Megumi here when he doesn’t mention Gojo at all. The only death he blames on Megumi is Tsumiki. Everyone else? Nothing. That’s weird given that Sukuna will pass the blame of his kills onto Yuji to torment him.

Is this Sukuna a construct or is he playing nice because he respects Megumi? Who knows. Whatever happened here seems to point to Gojo’s memory being suppressed for Megumi’s sake. 

And why might Megumi accept this suppression? Why does he seem to be going along with Yuji’s delusions? The Unlimited Void brain fog. Megumi brings attention to it after he wakes up. 

If Sukuna can’t think straight after Gojo brain damage, neither is Megumi. Still Yuji has to be careful. If Megumi thinks too much, the illusion will be broken. 

What does this mean for them?

Well, the character assassination isn’t real (probably) which is a good thing! Other than that? Not a clue. We’ve got a real catbox situation here. I can’t tell who is dead anymore.

Sukuna projects delusions when someone he’s connected with is dying. Yuji projects delusions when he’s dying. Both of them are kind towards the people they’re interacting with in this space between dreams and reality. They try to give people endings that leave them satisfied.

JJK 270 ends with the hunt for a curse user who can distort perceptions of reality. This curse user is initially mistaken as a cursed spirit. That sounds like Sukuna I think.

I’m pretty confident this happy ending illusion will be shattered, that's for sure.

My Final Answer

I'm betting it all on this being a delusion. This is a kind of prediction that will either age well, very badly, or interestingly. I don't know what's in store for the final chapter...but I do have some ideas I'd like to speculate with.

"Without love it cannot be seen."

This time I'm going to use this phrase very literally. I'm going to make one final gamble on the assumption that love is the answer. So let's go back to Love itself—one of those reoccurring themes in JJK.

Love is a curse in JJK. It has the power to distort reality and transform loved ones horribly. Desperation to save a loved one from death over and over has resulted in extremely traumatic things. Yuta turned his childhood crush into monster that caused havoc for years. You can pin blame everything that has happened in JJK on Gojo being unable to get over the loss of his loved one, Geto.

Hana could've vanquished Sukuna on the spot, but she didn't because she loves Megumi. It's something a lot of people blame her for. If she had just killed him there, the Sukuna battle wouldn't have happened. But that's not really the truth. The only reason Sukuna even got his powerful is because Megumi refused to let Yuji die.

Megumi and Yuji going back and forth trying to save each other have been acts of love driving the plot of JJK since the beginning of this manga. If Megumi actually died on Yuji? Who knows what would happen.

...

A lot of readers have been on a very funny copium because of these last 3 chapters. Some of them joke that they are just one massive Takaba-induced hallucination. This theory has some merit to it! After all, his CT does two things:

1) It distorts reality.

2) By sheer force of will it bends people's souls to his whims.

One of the biggest complaints about the past 3 chapters has been the Merger plot ending abruptly. As of JJK 270 Tengen and Sukuna's remains have been mixed into the barrier around Japan and everything is just fine according to Gakuganji.

People wanted to see what the Merger would do, just like Kenjaku. In universe, Tengen made a prediction. They guessed that the impurity from humans would dominate and consume everything. The impurity that Higuruma wants to protect. The impurity that Higuruma sees in Yuji.

Would Sukuna activate the merger and kill Megumi to spite Yuji? Absolutely.

Would Yuji do or become anything to save Megumi's life? Absolutely.

Do whatever you want with this information.

[accio-victuuri]

THE MOON REPRESENTS MY HEART 🌙 + Friday Madness

i just think that me freaking about gg singing this song and leaving after that is not right. this song deserves it’s own post and the importance of the Moon’s symbolism between them should be repeated. personally, i was surprised cause i cpn’d about a possible interpretation of showing off moon photos when they do it, then i thought of this song. now you have gege performing it. the universe has clowned me once again. and you have him as performer #8. Bo. are you kidding me? yes, this is a CCP signed-off event. the song must have been an approved piece to perform live but that doesn’t mean GG did not have a say in picking this track. as for him being the 8th one, a coincidence. destiny can’t help but relate them to each other. lol.

you can say that it’s perfect for the theme of mid-autumn festival and it’s a well loved song — yes, that’s right. but we’re all cpfs here who have a long history with 🌖 and GG finally singing it now seems like a “sign”.

this song’s relevance started with a fake rumor:

I would like to add that the moon should be the one that Wang laoshi watched a video of. After watching it, he said, "Do you believe me, I can also dance this for you?" The background music was "The Moon Represents My Heart" I think it should be posted by Xiao laoshi, but this happened a long time ago on the stage, but it should be related. I don’t know about choreography. I was busy with other things at that time. This is what I know.

THIS HITS DIFFERENT NOW. imagine yibo dancing to this. i will lose it. 🤯🤯🤯

and it doesn’t help that xz had a teaser video released by BRTV today:

send the moon to you // "I want to take a picture of the moon for you but it never comes out”

this is why we love fake rumors, one way or another, the similarities come up or parts of it come true.

then the matching photoshoot prop. also their studios posting 5 minutes apart. yes it makes sense for them to post in the same time span cause the content released around the same time too. but xzs is 20:40. 8:40. 8= Bo and 40 on the clock points to 8.

Seriously, XZ. come here. i just wanna talk. you are being so loud today sir. 🤡🤡🤡🤡

AS FOR THE PERFORMANCE ITSELF.

Outstanding. As expected of GG. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

There is something so soft and shy in the way he performed it. As if he is confessing to the person he loves how much he feels. This person knows — but not this way. Not this deep. This is him finally saying what his love is like.

He is also happy. This love makes him whole. It’s so nice to see him this way!

@rainbowsky already mentioned the way we are excited and crying because of it’s connection to Leslie Cheung which is the main thing in conversations. is this xz’s way of dedicating the song to the love of his life in public?

and the lyrics need no further interpretation, it’s such a sweet and simple song about one’s devotion.

so it’s not just xz singing this love song and us clowning. it’s years of clues and references — which now feels like a lead up to this “confession”. 💕

P.S: my main boxiao and moon post is obviously not updated for some time. so just search for “moon” on this blog for other references but y’all know tumblr will still not show everything.

P.P.S: i wanna bring back the moon landing watch. one of the strongest moon cpn out there that honestly feels like an urban legend now the way we never saw it again. lol. it was too loud they probably decided that wyb shouldn’t wear it again in public 😅😅😅😅

END.

[aziraphales-library]

Any recommendations of fics where Crowley and Aziraphale are roommates/neighbours?

Here are some housemates and neighbours fics that I've read and loved...

Safe In Your Arms by AppleSeeds (T)

After moving out of his flat following a fire, Aziraphale moves in with Crowley, who turns out to be very lovely and seems determined to do anything he can to comfort Aziraphale when he finds out about the nightmares he's been having.

What Aziraphale Wants by mozbee (G)

“You could shower at my place, if you like,” Aziraphale says. He’s a step out of the lift before he realizes what he said. He quickly laughs, turning to face Crowley, to dismiss it as fast as it had come out, and sees he’s being stared at. “You mean that?” Crowley asks, an arm out to keep the lift doors from closing. Aziraphale fights off the threatening blush. It won’t do to have Crowley know he’s practically foaming at the mouth to have him spend more time with him. Because Crowley is his friend, his confidante. He can tell him anything. Except Crowley is also devastatingly handsome. --- Aziraphale is just being neighbourly, inviting Crowley over to use his shower while his bathroom is being remodelled. It has nothing to do with the pounding lust that fills him when he thinks of Crowley nude in his home. He's just being nice. Now if these pesky feelings would leave him alone...

Good Neighbours, Good Fences (and Other Misunderstandings) by out_there (E)

The first time Crowley meets his downstairs neighbour, Aziraphale is breaking into his flat. He's not what Crowley imagined in a burglar -- he's fussy, old-fashioned, and surprisingly adorable. Crowley is intrigued, Aziraphale is ready to share a good wine... and possibly more.

District of (un-)Certainty by jamgrl (M)

Aziraphale is a PhD student who needs a roommate so he can continue to afford his house in the U.S. capital of Washington D.C. Luckily, the family he tutors for on the side just happened to find him one! He doesn’t think he will like him much since he is in the states to work on Mr. Dowling’s senate campaign, so he’s probably a terrible person (even if he is good looking). Crowley is pretty independent and doesn’t really have a lot of what you would call “friends”. But he doesn’t mind his new roommate. He would much rather hang out with him than his coworkers, anyways. His roommate’s best friends Anathema and Newt aren’t too bad, either. It’s nice to have some friends. Maybe he likes it in D.C. --- They are millenials! But still British and still old fashioned- just a little twist on our favorite husbands.

Between Comfort And Chaos by anathxmadevice (T)

“And how long have you two been a couple?” “Oh, I—” Aziraphale panics. “Ha, well, that’s a funny… We’re not actually—” “We’re just friends.” Crowley says, their voice clear and calm and lightly amused, either because of or in spite of Aziraphale’s flailing attempts to divert the conversation. “Ah, yes, quite.” Aziraphale says, then takes a sip of his drink just for something to do, instead of focussing on the way Crowley said just friends, and how it causes a painful throb in his chest that he has never fully got used to. His memory can only scrabble at the edge of a time where being just friends with Crowley didn’t feel like a particular form of torture. * Or, Aziraphale has been desperately in love with his best friend and housemate Crowley since they were students, but is too scared to do anything about it.

Won't You be My Neighbor? by ProblematicPitch, Spiro (T)

When Mr. A. Z. Fell moves to the quiet English village of Tadfield, he expects nosy neighbors and inquiries into his eccentric, solitary life. What he doesn't anticipate is Anthony J. Crowley, the surly nuisance / next-door-neighbor, who might very well need a friend as much as he does.

And I'll just drop a quick link to the popular and oft-recommended Or Be Nice, because I know someone will mention it if I don't.

- Mod D

[maxybabyy]

”What?”

”Nothing, I’m just –” Gianpiero says and clears his throat.

“You are of course staring at me,” Max says, and Gianpiero knows that he is, but how could he not?

Max is soaked to the bone, hair drenched with sweat, and the thin, white shirt he had been wearing is now clinging to his chest. His face is flushed, and his breaths are fast, shallow from running himself ragged on the paddle court. He holds the seam of his shirt between long, elegant fingers and uses it to wipe his forehead, flashing the pale skin of his stomach – and even that looks a bit flushed.

“I’m just looking at you, Max,” Gianpiero says, and at least his voice sounds calm. “Is that not allowed?”

Gianpiero is always looking at Max, toMax, for Max. When it’s not his data, it’s always Max, in the car or on the sim. Two beers deep in a bar somewhere they shouldn’t have been, complaining about the car, the cats, Lando and his moods, or whatever has been stuck on his mind this week.

Gianpiero has looked at him in his bed, spread out beautifully in pale soft sheets. So utterly lovely and impossible at the same time.

Usually, Max will look back at him and smile, eyes crinkling at the corner because Max likes the attention. Of the world? Maybe. The media? Certainly not. But there’s a select few under whose eyes Max will beam with affection, like a flower blooming under the glow of the sun.

But Max doesn’t smile. His eyes don’t crinkle, and the line of his mouth goes taut.

“Don’t,” he says. “Not when –“

“I cannot look at you, Max? At my driver, at my –“

“No,” Max says, and it’s a far cry from the man who had dragged him to the paddle court in the first place, loose and happy with the weekend off. “Not when always you do nothing about it.”

“Max.”

Gianpiero doesn’t reach for him – not here, not with Robert and Calum just meters away – but his fingers twitch with the need to.

Max watches him for a second before he scoffs. He picks up his water bottle and stalks out, back tight with tension. And then, just before he leaves for the locker room, body poised not unlike a cat ready for the attack, “I owe you of course congratulations on the promotion, GP. You must be so happy, Red Bull also, no?”

It’s catty and mean, and Gianpiero is too old for this whole cat-and-mouse bit, but he goes after him anyway, gives chase until the door slams shut behind them.

“It helps to have the success of a three-times world champion behind you,” he says, and this time he does reach for Max.

He places one hand on Max’s hip, fingers slipping on sweaty skin as he bypasses where Max’s shorts sit tight. The other cups his jaw, fingers splayed wide on his throat, making Max look at him. Max doesn’t move away, but he’s always been like this: pliant under steady hands, malleable and yielding even in times where he shouldn’t.

Max swallows, and Gianpiero feels it against his hand.

“I thought –“ Max says but the words come out strangled. Voice cracking like it does sometimes in the car, loud and hilarious over the radio, reminding them both of how far he’s come since then, how far they’ve both come.

“Always we said when it is 2025, we would try,” he says with a rasp. “And then you –“

Gianpiero breathes out a heavy breath. His thumb strokes over Max’s cheek, skin slick with sweat but he doesn’t mind. A lot of their best moments have been with Max drenched in sweat.

“I don’t think it’s that easy, unfortunately,” he says softly. “The market is changing, and what teams want is –“

“Everyone wants you, GP,” Max says, blunt and a little mean. He twists out of Gianpiero’s hands to pace the space between lockers, his shoes heavy on the floor. “Fucking Vasseur trying to –“

“As I said, things change,” Gianpiero says softly. His shirt feels clammy against his skin, and he has a meeting at four, but that has to wait. “With Lewis, Bono said –“

“I do not give a fuck about Bono,” Max lashes out, head whipped around to stare at Gianpiero. “Or did he fuck Lewis also? Did he tell him he loved him and that they would of course be together and then forget about him? Did Bono do this also? Because he is then in lovely company.”

Gianpiero flinches at the words, at how they leave Max’s mouth. Pink lips pulled back in a snarl, flat teeth that he’s felt against his skin now ready for the attack.

“Max,” he says, searching for something softer, sweeter. But Max has always been Max to him, even when he wasn’t, and Gianpiero doesn’t like to think about that. “Max,” he says again and wills it to be as sweet as any other pet name.

“Did you ever think that’s why I’m doing this?” He asks. “I cannot be your race engineer and have the responsibility of putting you in the seat, fighting with you about a car that doesn’t drive like you want it to, and then come home with you to pretend everything is alright.”

“Why not?” Max asks, rudely if Gianpiero didn’t know him better.

Gianpiero knows Max has no problem separating what happens in racing from his personal life. So perhaps Max could make it work, chewing him out over the radio before crawling into bed with him, kissing him softly as he has before. But Gianpiero knows he couldn’t.

“I love you, Max, but it has to be right, and it has to make sense, for both of us,” he says.

He knows Max already has one foot out of the sport, knows if the car continues to drive like it does Max will leave. To Aston Martin or Mercedes, he doesn’t know, or perhaps even retirement. He knows Max wants him to follow, and that now only the latter is possible.

But Gianpiero isn’t ready to leave and more truthfully, isn’t ready to be in his mid-forties and live off his boyfriend’s money.

“When?” Max asks. He’s lost some of the fight, the tension in his shoulders all but gone, and he comes to Gianpiero easy, tucking his face into his throat. “When will it make sense?”

They both know the answer but neither of them wants to say it.

Even if it meant he would have Max like this, soft and lovely in his arms, he would lose the driver Max has become. And selfishly, Gianpiero isn’t ready for that either.

“Soon,” he says and pretends the words don’t taste bitter on his tongue as he leans in to kiss him.

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 17/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

                While they travel together most people assume Vi and him are a couple, it helps a lot of the time. They end up sharing a room or bed as they move around. It does make hooking up difficult, but he either resorts to bathroom stalls, or going home with guys after letting Vi do her hard ass security routine where she insists on taking any guys photo before she lets Bradley leave with him. Annoying as fuck but he’s certain he dodges some real bullets because of it. On the rarer instances when he’s hooked up with a woman she’s done the same thing, although it had resulted in more than one awkward proposition for a threesome. He knows Vi doesn’t do casual, but she’s more than happy acting as his wingman, and telling him that in no uncertain terms she doesn’t find him at all attractive and never will.

                Spending nearly every waking moment together for weeks and then months on end helps solidify their relationship. He’s never had a sibling, and while Vi has two sisters, they’re both quite a bit older though, so he can only think that this must be what it’s like. She knows him, has known him, for several years now and even though she never likens their relationship to that of siblings she definitely calls him cousin openly and consistently, treats him like he’s family in a way he can’t imagine having any other way without calling her sister. Cousin. Whatever.

…            …            …

                He wakes up feeling the most well rested he has in ages, muscles pleasantly sore, blankets warm, air conditioning making the room cooler and he takes a moment to just burrow down further beneath the blankets and smiles to himself. This is what everyone wants him to do when they tell him he needs a vacation. If this is what it’s going to be like then he’s going to be much more easily persuaded. He stretches and reaches for his phone, surprised to see it’s after ten. He needs to ring Vi and check in and make sure the restaurant hasn’t fallen down, not that he doesn’t trust those he left in charge, but it’s his, and he’s been gone for a while and it doesn’t always sit right leaving it for so long. However he trusts Vi implicitly and she won’t hold back telling him if he needs to come home, no matter how much she thinks he needs a break.

                “Come up for breath huh?”

                “Hello to you too.”

                “You’re having a sexcation, I’m surprised you’re awake.”

                “Jake’s gone to see his family.”

                “Oh. Right. Of course. I see how it is. You’re bored.”

                “I’m…” he lets out a long calming breath, “I wanted to check in with you. See how it’s going in my absence?”

                “I came back to a pile of ash and am busy filling in the insurance paperwork…���

                “Vi…”

                “Everything is fine. Everyone is fine. We created a well-oiled machine and it’s working exactly as it should. Calm down and enjoy you sexcation…”

                “What if it’s… more than that.”

                “What do you mean?”

                Bradley bites his lip, wonders if he should just blurt out that he’s already asked Jake to consider dating him, having a long distance relationship and trying something, no matter how crazy or difficult it might be. If he tells Vi he’s already done it, she’ll support him, without question. However if he asks her opinion then he’ll also get it, honest and brutal and he’s terrified it might not be supportive but he still wants to hear it.

                “So, I met his sister yesterday. One of his sisters. She invited me to dinner to meet the rest of his family tomorrow night… I really like him.”

                “Yeah. Of course you do. He’s your Cinderfella.”

                “Cinderfella was a fairytale, Jake is… a cocky asshole who adds sauce to everything.”

                “And yet you like him anyway.”

                “I do. I do like him.”

                “Yeah. I could tell. You going to actually do anything about it other than just… sex?”

                “Do you think I should?”

                “I’m not making that decision for you. But… He was learning Italian. Maybe on the off chance that he might one day meet you again. I mean. Slim to zero chances if you were actually Italian, but he was doing it anyway. He makes you laugh. His stupid sauce thing. You think it’s fucking cute and funny. It’s like he’s made you loosen up a bit and that’s… it’s good to see. I want you to be happy and more relaxed and if you have to be with a guy that adds sauce to everything to be happy then I will make sacrifices…”

                “Wow. Big of you.”

                “What is the worst he can say? No, right? Thanks but no thanks?”

                “Yeah.”

                “And what’s the best he can say?”

                “I love you, lets run off to Vegas and get married?” Bradley jokes, because he’s already had the conversation with Jake, and Vi is already pushing him to asking. And Maria had been doing the same, so having family also think that they might work together. Despite the distance and jobs. To try it.

                “Holy shit, you’re thinking about marrying this guy.”

                “What? No I’m not.”

                “You literally just mentioned running off to Vegas to get married!”

                “It was hypothetical!”

                “And if he asked?”

                “I’d… I’d say yes,” Bradley says, but he has to hold back laughter, because he wouldn’t, but god does he want Vi to think he would.

                “Oh my god, you’re serious.”

                “He’s not going to propose marriage Vi.”

                “Well, still more likely than him saying no to whatever it is you’re going to ask him… Bradley. You’ve met his family. Well. A sister. He’s met me, which is as much family as you have and talk to on the East Coast. You’ve shoving several months into two weeks… But do not, under any circumstances run off to fucking Vegas and get married. Aunt Silvia would kill you as soon as she caught wind of it.”

                “Well, I’m not going to ask him,” Bradley says, grinning, because god he loves winding her up.

                “Why not? You have to take a risk sometime…”

                “I’m not going to ask him, because we already talked about it yesterday and we’re… dating. Going to try the whole long distance th-”

                “Mamma Mia! Stronzo!” Vi snaps out, followed by further strings of insults in Italian and Bradley laughs at her annoyance, feels accomplished in a way that only annoying her brings.

                “Yeah yeah, think of me tomorrow when I’m meeting his entire family. For the record, he has five sisters.”

                “Oh… oh that’s beautiful. That’s what I call karma. Stronzo.”

                “Yeah, laugh it up. Can’t be any more intimidating the Nana and Nonna.”

                “True. Think you’ll take him to Italy?”

                “It’s been six days. How about we just… slow it down. Take it easy.”

                “Hmm. From the guy who has already decided to date him and try long distance. And yet I’m the one suggesting crazy shit.”

                Bradley groans, and he knows what he’s going to ask next isn’t going to help at all in terms of making Vi think he’s not rushing into things.

                “His sister clocked me as soon as I walked in by the way. She’s a fan.”

                “And?”

                “Jake has no idea who I am…”

                “Oh… oh shit. That’s not going to work.”

                “He knows my name. But he doesn’t like watching reality TV. He saw one of my recipe books, that Maria owns, and he didn’t even blink. Was just… oh, good for you. You’ve done a cook book.”

                “Okay. So maybe he’s just very chill about it?”

                “Maria thinks he’s oblivious and will remain oblivious.”

                “Maria is…”

                “His sister. She invited me to dinner. To meet everyone else. Said that Jake can be pretty blind to things even when it’s right in front of him. And that she’ll… maybe help him remain in the dark a little?”

                “That’s not a good idea.”

                “Not in a bad way. Just… she’s warning all of Jake’s other sisters, so they don’t make a big deal and are prepared when I turn up. She was not prepared for me to turn up, Jake had been calling me Leo the whole time. I’m lucky she just rolled with it. We’d met at the market as well, so…”

                “He knows your name though right?”

                “Yeah. And Maria calls me Bradley.”

                “Oh. So… he knows you’re a chef, that you’ve done some books and what…?”

                “That I work in a restaurant in New York. But also that I travel a lot for work. Sometimes.”

                “You do travel a lot.”

                “Yep.”

                “Okay. Well, for the record I think you should maybe try and spell it out for him.”

                “It’s kind of nice having him like me for just me…”

                “Leonardo…” Vi says, and he can hear the reproach in her tone. “He already likes you. Don’t think he’s going to care about your very limited claim to fame.”

                “Yeah, but you know people think of me differently when they see the TV version of me, and then meet me in person.”

                “I don’t think Jake is going to be one of them.”

                “Yeah? Why do you think that?”

                “Because of the way he adds sauce to fucking everything. If there was a guy who cared less about what you do for a job I challenge you to find him. Salsa scandalo.”

…            …            …

                “So… want to tell us about him?”

                “Why bother? You’re just going to grill him tomorrow.”

                Again silent looks are exchanged and Jake realizes that maybe Olivia is also an owner of Leo’s cookbook.

                “Are you a fan of his?” Jake asks.

                “I…” she starts, looks to Maria. “Yes.”

                “Great.”

                “Okay, you guys cannot make a big deal or embarrass me, okay?”

                “This is the first person you’ve ever brought home. It’s kind of a big deal.”

                “If you guys screw this up for me, he’ll also be the last guy I ever bring home.”

                “Okay okay, we’ll be on our best behavior. We promise.”

                Jake doesn’t trust that statement at all but it’s not like he has much choice in the matter.

EIGHTEEN

[physalian]

On Hyper Independent Characters (and how not to make them the bad guy)

So many characters with “trust issues” are painted out to be cynical little gremlins who just need to ~open their hearts~ and ~let the love in~ like doing so, repeatedly, has only proven them right every single time, but this one love interest will swoop in and save the day.

The people who write these characters tend to do so in bad faith, as if their fears and trust issues are unfounded nonsense, like they’re wrong and Negative Nellys for being wary.

So!

From experience (thus this is hella biased), here’s some thoughts on writing an independent character with trust issues that isn’t belittling.

1. It’s likely not that kind of trust they have issues with

I said this before a while ago, but “trust issues” paired with an extreme sense of self-reliance isn’t “I think everyone is a liar,” but rather “I think everyone is unreliable”. It might stem from a place of constantly being let down, of constantly having the people in their life drop the ball on major events, but also little things, even something as simple as “hey yeah I’ll totally do the dishes” and then they continue to sit there, forcing the person to be a nag about it, or just do it themselves.

These kinds of personalities tend to grow up surrounded by unkept and empty promises, where, while it might not be every single occasion, it happens one too many times for them to keep giving the benefit of the doubt. Even when people have the best of intentions and mean it when they say they’ll do XYZ in the moment, and they really just forgot, the person they made the promise to is impatiently waiting for them to remember 12-day-old dishes.

2. Why don’t they just remind people to keep their promises?

If you’re in my boat, many people with commitment issues are also narcissists or just mean, who, if you even gently remind them, make you out to be a nagging, impatient brat. And to avoid hearing that again, you just don’t speak up. Too many times where ‘forgetting’ has been from a source of a weird power fantasy, intentionally screwing you over, leaves people sitting in a state of unknowing whether it’s benign neglect or very much on purpose, and afraid to voice their concerns to be proven right.

If you’re not in my boat, chronic “forgetters” aren’t going to change without intervention. So if I ask you to do the dishes once, and you forget, that’s one thing. If I ask you twice, three times, four times, nagging over and over again, then the benefit of the doubt is shredded, and I can’t help but assume that the “forgetting” is on purpose. Either weaponized incompetence or something more benign, doesn’t matter. Even if you have some executive dysfunction, that's an explanation, not an excuse, and the people you live with aren't your maids.

Either way, these personalities might grow up with a whole slew of self-worth issues, and be reluctant to make plans with people, invite friends to important events, or get excited about big milestones, because they’re so used to people they care about “forgetting” or canceling last minute that the only one they can trust to reliably show up is themselves.

3. Why don’t they just communicate these fears?

See the “narcissists” in point 2

4. Isn’t it lonely never letting people in?

Fuck yeah, it is. The thing is, though, that if you spend your whole life learning how to do everything alone—pay your bills, do ‘couple’ or ‘friend’ activities, run errands, take yourself out to places—the idea of having to squeeze in the wants and needs of someone else might start to sound incredibly inconvenient.

If you’re so used to being on your own schedule and reaping the benefits of being a party of 1 in crowded spaces (I just took myself to dinner at a place with an hour long wait, able to be seated immediately at the last remaining barstool), of not having to wait for someone else to confirm plans, negotiate who’s driving, negotiate a time to meet up, food to order, a movie to see, a roller coaster to ride, a game or streaming service to buy—everything is entirely under your control, sacrificing convenience for the chance that the person you invite actually shows up on time and is invested as you are isn’t really worth the risk.

That's not to say I don't enjoy when I get to do things with friends, but I can equally enjoy doing things alone as opposed to whining about it.

Personally, while I can daydream about having a romantic partner, that thought is always immediately followed up by the understanding that they’ll be an inconvenience to my independence. But I’m someone who’s always had to do the emotional labor in a relationship, who’s always the most organized, the most mature, the most level-headed in tough situations. Always been the person in groupwork who does all the work. The idea of being “a team” is a fantasy meant for other people. “Team” to me is “me and this deadweight that I have to drag around”.

5. How I’d like to see this represented in characters

Dropping “the one” into their lives and having this person swept up, broken out of their little pessimistic shell, in some epic romance, as if they only needed to find the right person and nothing at all goes wrong… is bad faith.

It’s bad faith because it minimizes this kind of independence as just a little mood problem that can be fixed right quick, that it’s inherently wrong—what was all the fuss about?

What I’d like to see is examples that prove they’re not crazy. Big and little things. Dishes, and big events. Then, they can meet “the one,” but not without some trial and error. A lifetime of “people suck and are unreliable” isn’t going to be snapped away bibbidi bobbidi boo after one good date. This magical person will have to show up, and keep showing up, and keep showing up, and the one time they don’t, because they won’t, then A and B can hash it out like adults.

6. How this person might act

I’ve never actually met somebody like me and we’d either be best friends or loathe each other. But this person might be the most reliable friend you’ve ever had, because they’re so afraid of becoming like everyone in their life who let them down before. If you ask a favor of them, it gets done with supernatural haste.

This person might also have their own commitment issues, where instead of failing to keep their promises, they punish themselves by keeping promises they hate, showing up out of spite and resentment because they said they would, lest they be called a hypocrite.

They might under-share or not speak up about accomplishments in their life until the time for hype and anticipation has passed, lest they share expecting the same level of excitement only to be met with apathy. They might not show visible excitement about objectively exciting things, because they’re so used to plans falling through that they won’t believe something is happening until they are physically in the location and it’s staring them in the face.

Thus, they might look frequently bored or unhappy and unmoved by something important to you, or something you thought they’d like (especially if you’ve let them down before, trust is a privilege, not a right).

7. What I’d like people to understand most of all

First, that some of us tend to live by the “if you want something done right do it yourself” mantra, so actually asking somebody for help with something is admitting that X cannot be done alone, which makes failure to keep a promise even worse. As in, if A goes out of their way to admit they can’t do F alone and risk being let down to ask B to do this one little thing for them, and B still drops the ball, A is going to sit there and think “this is why I have trust issues”.

Can’t speak for everyone, but yes I do acknowledge that the suffering in silence isn’t helping anyone and am working on it. Counterpoint: Weaponized incompetence is very real and an adult should not have to remind another adult to keep their living space clean, at the bare minimum. Agreeing to do a thing is at least equal responsibility on the inviter and invitee and "you didn't remind me" isn't a valid excuse.

But most importantly, if you have a friend or relative who is fiercely independent, I’d implore you to learn one thing: Do not make promises that you can’t keep. And if shit happens and you have to cancel even when you had the best of intentions, have the decency to tell them and make the best effort you can to reschedule ASAP, instead of putting the impetus on them to do the rescheduling. Make it absolutely clear that you do, in fact, care, and weren’t going out of some apathetic sense of obligation.

I cannot count the amount of times I have asked a friend to do something for me, they eagerly agreed, and then my very real deadlines come and go and they say absolutely nothing, so I have to nag them, and nag them, and then they turn it back on me with a “obviously you can see that I’m busy and you’re not paying me for this” when all they had to do was say “no I can’t help you” (two whole humans; we are not friends anymore).

The ability to be approached with a request for a favor, step back and think about it, and go “No, I don’t think I can do that in that time frame/at this moment I’m going through a lot/with the skill the task requires” is apparently ridiculously rare. I’d infinitely prefer a no upfront than a yes, bank on that yes, and then wait around hoping someone follows through.

Not saying anything is really rude. If you agree to X, the person who asked you is fully expecting you to do X. They shouldn’t have to be lining up backup plans and last minute helpers scrambling to do the job you promised would get done.

—

Not exaggerating when I say it happens in so many areas. I’ve needed very important things like recommendation letters, or actual paid beta readers on a very hard deadline and still scrambled at the last minute to find replacements that sometimes cost real money for rush fees. I’ve been left waiting at an event for an hour minimum only to finally receive a ‘hey I can’t come’ text and then go home. I’ve told people multiple times, “hey, if you’re going to do X, please do it like this and have some consideration for my things that you’re borrowing” and just… be ignored.

As somebody who gets whatever’s asked of me done immediately, no matter how busy I am, man is it hard to keep accepting “sorry I forgot” as an excuse, from multiple people, multiple times.

The nice thing, though, the big benefit of hyper-independence is that I have learned so many skills out of a compulsion to just do it myself instead of gambling with the accountability of another flighty human. Handyman things for my home and my car, but artistic things, too. So there’s that.

[artist-issues]

you're fun to talk to about media so I've got something to ask.

what do you think of this trope where a lie or misconception becomes commonly accepted as truth by the characters in story? especially as a resolution.

example: in the finale of "Kubo and the two strings", the Moon King(main villain) loses his memory, so when he asks who he is, the townspeople lie to him and say he was a kind member of the community, rather than the dictator he really was.

I don't like it. I see a falsehood being widely accepted as a tragedy, and I'm just left imagining what happens if/when the characters find out the truth. I can't really take something as a happy ending when it's.. y'know, fake. I imagine you feel similarly.

but hey, I could have totally missed the point of the ending of KATTS, if you watched it, you might have seen something I didn't.

I haven’t seen Kubo in a really long time; I don’t think I was thinking critically about it the first time I watched it, so my opinion now is an afterthought. I’d have to see it again to be fair!

…But I do seem to remember that the villain is defeated with some importance placed on memory. And the identity of the monkey and that beetle warrior also have to do with the sacredness of memories. So, if that’s the case, then yeah, taking his memory away as a “good resolution” can kind of hamstring the whole theme of the movie. Unless you tilt your head and squint and go, “no, see, if all you have is bad memories, then it’s just as powerful to take those away—the point is, memories have power either way!” But even that feels a little half-baked, gymnastics-brainy.

Basically, I agree with you. A story that resolves with a character, or characters, accepting a lie as truth is always going to be a fumble of the whole story…unless it’s intended to be a tragedy, a cautionary tale. I can think of three where that’s super evident.

1 ) A Streetcar Named Desire

In this movie the main character, Blanche, is lying about who she is, for the whole story. She even has this great symbolism thing with light—she hates bright light, on the surface because she’s vain and doesn’t want anyone to see signs that she’s aging. But under the surface, the character is really an immoral, lust-filled, broken person who knows she can be cruel and isn’t deserving of love. She doesn’t want anyone to know that side of her. She hides it all under vainglory and pride. So she pretends to her sister, Stella, that she’s upright and moral and has simply fallen on hard times. But her sister’s brute of an abusive husband, Stanley, who is always 100% his authentic, awful self, sees through Blanche when she comes to stay with them. In the end, Stanley rapes Blanche and then carelessly shrugs her accusations off.

The main point of this example is that Stella, the wife of the rapist Stanley, has been portrayed the whole movie as sometimes-leaving her abusive husband…but only as far as the apartment above their own, literally right above him, so that she can easily go back to him. And at the end of the movie, when Blanche is being taken to a mental institution because she’s broken-down after being found-out as a fraud, then raped, Stella lets them take her away. And then Stella goes up to the apartment above, where she always “pretends” to leave Stanley. It’s such a halfhearted, lazy way to end a movie that’s all about desire-versus-truth. Because what it implies is that Stella is leaving Stanley for now, like she might believe that he raped her sister…but she’ll eventually go back to him. And in the meantime, Blanche goes off to the mental hospital, with this iconic line “I have always depended upon the kindness of strangers.” By which she means, “strangers don’t know what a two-faced monster I really am, so I can con them into thinking I’m a morally-upright woman fallen on hard times, and they’ll take pity on me—so sure, I’ll go with you, strange doctor I’ve never met.”

The central point of the movie is “as long as nobody looks the truth in the face, everyone can go on getting what they desire.”

Of course, that’s true. But the other truth is that, if Stella accepted what her sister and her husband really are—her sister is broken and her husband is a monster—then she could choose to rise above “animal desire.” She could choose to take care of Blanche, and Blanche would see that “someone seeing who I really am” doesn’t always have to lead to ruin and damnation. Stella could then, also, choose to really leave Stanley, for good, and be at peace, while Stanley’s “desire” would be rewarded with ruin.

But instead the opposite is what happens. Blanche goes away believing, in her broken mind, that her womanly wiles and faking will protect her from further injury, even though they never have—Stanley ends the movie exactly where he began it, screaming for Stella to come back and knowing that she will—and Stella, too, ends the movie going away from Stanley…just for a little while, until animal desire convinces her to just pretend Stanley isn’t really a monster, Blanche must be crazy, except this time, when she goes back, she’ll be carrying a child into that abusive lie.

All characters wholeheartedly embracing hurtful lies so they can keep riding their desires. I hate that movie. You could see it as a cautionary tale. Most don’t. Most see it as a movie with “hot Marlon Brando” who “really loves Stella—all the characters ‘really love each other,’ they just don’t know how to express it healthily!” 🙄

I think the worst part is that the movie behaves as if it is true that every time Blanche reveals her own brokenness or is vulnerable, the world STOMPS on her for it, nobody loves her despite her brokenness. That’s the real mistake this movie makes. It has an opportunity to show unconditional love and it leaves the audience thinking Blanche was right, and there’s no such THING as “unconditional” love, instead.

Anyway.

2) X-Men Origins: The Wolverine

This one is less thematic. But it’s just dumb because the whole movie the main character, Logan, Wolverine, is being taught that “Giving in to Bloodlust Makes You an Animal—Compassion For Those Weaker Than Yourself Makes You Human.”

So in that context, the whole narrative is centered around the exploration of “Who is Logan/Wolverine?”

…Which makes it really stupid that the movie ends with him losing his memory. So…the movie asks “Who Are You?” and right after the character figures it out, he forgets and ends it with the answer: “I don’t know who I am.”

That’s just a waste. That’s silly. It allows you to take the character to real, hearty, coming-of-age, hero-forged-in-fire, a man-born-of-tragedy places…and then just shrug all that stuff off at the end. “Never mind. But it was a fun ride, wasn’t it?”

Especially because they built it all around the dichotomy between Logan and his brother, who’s little more than an animal—and Logan and his wife, who could be an animal, but chooses compassion instead, and reminds him of his choice, too. —and then she dies, and it’s implied that maybe his brother does too, but who cares, cuz he forgets. Who cares? Not Logan. So why should the audience?

I get that they “needed” to do this so that the end of this movie sets up the beginning of the X-Men Movies, which already established that Logan can’t remember “his past.” But like…then don’t make the point of the movie “Who Am I?” just to end on “…Okay, So WHO AM I?”

It’s a fine movie up until that point.

They should’ve made the movie center around “Can’t Change What You’ve Done; But You Can Be Redeemed.” And then show his memory loss around a moment of self-sacrifice. So that it’s still tragic, but at least when he wakes up from the self-sacrificial act, he’s “a new man.” Then later, in the third X-Men movie, when Logan chooses that mutant kid over “learning the secrets of his past,” it all comes full circle, because his “self-sacrifice moment” can stay where the Old Logan died.

Anyway. You didn’t ask me to re-tell X-Men Origins: The Wolverine. But it’s the same basic premise—a movie ends with a character losing their memory, or believing a lie—whatever.

You know, actually, this one isn’t so much “believing a lie” as it is “going back to considering the lie (that he’s an animal) because all the work done to convince him of the truth has been stupidly erased”

3) The Dark Knight

Saved this for last because nobody would read all that if they saw me scratching up the beloved Christopher Nolan Masterpiece.

But The Dark Knight is a perfect example of what you’re actually talking about.

The movie is awesome until the end.

It’s not hard to guess what I’m going to say. Harvey Dent is supposed to be a shining example of a good guy, and the goodness, that Gotham is capable of. The Goodness that will ultimately defeat Evil. And Evil is represented as Chaos.

Bruce sees that and that’s why he’s willing to give everything to make Harvey succeed as the hero Gotham needs. Because if Gotham sees that evil can be conquered by doing things the right way, the orderly way, that will get Gotham out of it’s “Justice is Broken, Vengeance is The Only Form of Justice” cycle.

Then there’s the Joker. He doesn’t believe there’s any such thing as Good—it’s all just Chaos (which is evil.) And his big mission is to prove it. It’s ironic that he twists Harvey’s sense of “justice” around to this viewpoint—where Harvey uses “chance” as just another form of “retribution.”

Anyway. All of that’s interesting.

But the movie both perpetuates a lie and does so by having the characters end believing a lie.

The lie it perpetuates is “The Joker is right, there’s no such thing as Justice or Good—it’s all just chaos, but pretending it’s not can get you through the day.”

That’s the lie it perpetuates!

And how does it do that?

By having the “city of Gotham,” and Bruce himself, believe a lie.

They believe Harvey Dent really was a good guy who died a hero. Bruce believes Rachel died still waiting for him, which symbolized her supposed belief in the good of Bruce and capability of Bruce to let it all go.

And why was it important that they believe those lies? Because the supposed truth is too harsh—that there’s no Good, it’s all Chaos. And if they believe that supposed truth, they’ll all turn out like Harvey or Joker. If Bruce believes Rachel chose Harvey, he’ll supposedly give up on something important in himself.

Okay but the problem with that is you have characters believing a lie because of a truth—that isn’t the truth. It’s the same problem with Streetcar.

The people of Gotham, the worst people of Gotham, aren’t always going to choose evil. There is such a thing as justice and good. And Harvey turning into Two-Face doesn’t change that. The movie could’ve shown that. It started to, with the prisoners on the second boat choosing not to kill the civilians to save themselves.

But it chose not to make that the point of the movie. It chose to make “The Joker was Right, Good is a Comforting Lie, & the Closest You’ll Ever Get to Justice is Vengeance & Chaos” the point of the movie. By having Batman convince the whole city to believe the comforting lie, what you’re saying is, Bruce believes that the truth won’t set Gotham free, only wrap it in chains.

That’s the problem with these movies.

And that’s why I think Captain America: The Winter Soldier licks The Dark Knight hollow every time, and is all-in-all a better movie, hands down. In this continued essay—

[slaymitchabernathy]

All in the Timing

Coriolanus Snow is many things.

He’s rich.

He’s successful.

He’s important.

He’s being stared down by a small child right now.

The last one concerns him.

It’s not that he despises children, but he’s never been drawn to them. Perhaps he worries about coming off as creepy, nothing screams ‘child predator’ like handing out candy to children at the zoo. It doesn’t help that he’s a rather large man, well, large in his stature with his broad shoulders and long legs.

But this child, this small little girl is staring him down while he waits for his friend Festus to close their tab at the bar. They’re at one of their favorite restaurants, the Grand Oak and he’s standing near the host stand, doing his best to ignore the little girl.

But she’s hard to ignore.

She has these blue eyes, but they’re not just blue, they have hints of gray in them as well, making her quite the startling child. Whoever her mother is certainly passed down her genetics because this little girl has been blessed with long blonde hair and an adorable face.

She's standing near a group of adults all getting their coats from the coat check so he can only assume she belongs to one of them. She must be very well-behaved if she was brought into an establishment such as this one, known for its fine dining experience.

Someone claps his shoulder and pulls him back into reality, “All closed up Snow.” He rolls his eyes at the nickname that Festus gave him all those years ago as if calling him by his first name is so difficult.

“Let’s hope you paid the correct amount this time,” Coriolanus mumbles, giving Festus a knowing glare. The last time he trusted Festus with a responsibility such as closing their tab, he only paid half and Coriolanus had to come back the next day to pay the rest of it.

But Coriolanus can’t help but look back over at the little girl who’s still watching him, Festus now on her radar. Festus who has an infant son waiting for him at home grins and gives her a wave, “Oh, she’s so cute. You know, it’s never too late to settle down and start a family Snow.”

Coriolanus shakes his head, it sounds nice but starting a family means finding someone to love him unconditionally and that seems impossible.

He offers the girl a small smile, hoping he doesn’t frighten the child but she visibly perks up and smiles back.

“Ceraphina darling, let’s put on your coat.”

A gentle, feminine voice from the group of adults draws the little girl's attention away from Coriolanus and Festus and she turns around to face one of the most beautiful women Coriolanus has ever seen.

This woman is undoubtedly her mother. With her long blonde hair that falls down to her waist, her tan complexion, and her rosy pink lips. She’s gorgeous.

And she’s holding a miniature version of the pink coat she’s wearing, so she and her daughter can match.

The little girl's face lights up as her mother crouches down to help her into the coat and she leans in, tapping her mother's shoulder and whispering something that causes her mother to tilt her head to hear her better.

Coriolanus can only imagine what the child says but a moment later, he’s got two pairs of blue-gray eyes looking up at him.

The woman offers him a small, polite smile before rising to her full height once again, wrapping her coat around her frame and taking her daughter’s hand, “Let’s go, darling.”

She offers him a small nod, out of sheer politeness no doubt and her daughter gives him a wave, which makes him chuckle, she is a rather sweet child.

Their entire group slowly makes their way out into the cold winter night and the last man in the group looks somewhat familiar to him. He’s got brown hair and glasses hanging onto the bridge of his nose for dear life as he wraps a winter scarf around his neck.

He says a word of goodbye to the hostess behind Coriolanus and Festus and their eyes meet for a moment, leading Coriolanus to wonder even more where he’s seen this man before.

“He looked familiar,” he says to Festus once the lobby is empty, “have we met him before?”

Festus shrugs, pulling out a cigar, “We’ve met lots of people,” he tells Coriolanus, helping with nothing,” maybe he was in one of our quarterly meetings.”

Coriolanus nods but doesn’t quite believe him, “Maybe.”

꧁ ꧂

“I’m afraid we don’t have this in your size in this department Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus can’t stop the frown from growing across his face when given that disappointing news. He’s shopping for a new pair of leather shoes and apparently, it’s hard to find a size ten these days.

He sighs, shaking his head, “It’s fine. Don’t worry abo—“

“But we do have one pair of shoes in the women’s department according to our system. I guess someone left them down there by mistake,” the associate interjects, giving him that customer service smile that he truly despises.

Coriolanus clears his throat, he hasn’t ever gone up to the women’s section but there’s a first time for everything. “Alright. I’ll head up there.”

It’s a short ride on the escalator and Coriolanus is blown away at how much more there is on this floor compared to the men’s. Racks and racks of clothes, a whole makeup department.

A complete step up from the men’s department.

But he’s not here to linger. He’s here to get his shoes.

He makes his way toward the shoe section of the store, passing by several beautifully wrapped gift boxes since the holiday season is upon them once again.

He’s surprised at how empty it is up here, only a few women can be seen milling around the clothing racks but the shoe section is wide open. Right next to the children’s section.

He approaches the associate who immediately perks up once she lays eyes on him, “Mr. Snow?”

“That’s me,” he nods, “I was told there were some shoes in my size up here.”

“Yes sir. Let me go get them for you.”

Coriolanus thanks the woman before she disappears into the back room and he’s left alone once again, this time feeling a bit out of place right next to all the baby clothes. They’re all so tiny, adorned with ruffles and bows.

He reaches out to touch a small dress made for an infant when a voice startles him, “Hi!”

He looks all around him, unable to find where the voice came from until he hears a giggle. “I’m down here.”

Coriolanus can’t hide his disbelief when he looks down to find the same little girl he saw at the Grand Oak looking up at him, a bright smile on her face, swinging her arms back and forth.

“Hello,” he gets out, taking a cautious step back. Her mother must be around here somewhere, probably shopping. “I remember you,” the little girl continues, taking a step toward him, “you have blue eyes like me.”

Coriolanus wants to point out that she has more gray in her eyes than blue but she’s already talking about something else, “Why are you on this floor? My Mommy says this floor is for girls and you’re not a girl.” She looks him up and down suspiciously as if she’s making sure he’s not a freakishly tall woman in disguise.

Coriolanus scratches the back of his neck, he’s never met such an outgoing child before, “I came up here to get some shoes that should’ve been in the men’s department,” he explains, “I wasn’t aware that I’d be in a ladies presence.”

The little girl lights up at his comment, considering her a lady, “I’m five years old,” she tells him proudly, “and I’m gonna be five and a half in January.”

Coriolanus raises his eyebrows, seemingly impressed, “Well that’s a very smart age to be.”

“Mhm. It is. I get to see my friends tomorrow at scho—“

“Ceraphina!”

Both Coriolanus and Ceraphina jump when her mother appears, flushed in the face, “What did I tell you about talking to strangers?”

Ceraphina clasps her hands behind her back and looks down at the floor, doing her best to look guilty, “You said not to Mommy.”

Her mother nods, placing a hand on top of her head, “That’s right. You can’t run off and go talking to people you don’t know.”

Ceraphina scrunches her face and looks up at her mother, her eyes wide and pleading, “But I do know him, Mommy. He was at the restaurant, remember?” She points right at Coriolanus which means he’s not getting out of this unscathed.

Her mother’s eyes travel up his body, and he must say, she looks even prettier during the daytime. He can see that she has freckles all over her face, making her eyes pop even more.

“I do remember,” she murmurs, brushing her hair behind her ears, “but that doesn’t mean you can just run off without telling me, darling.”

Coriolanus doesn’t want her to get in trouble, even though she did run off. She seems like a sweet child. “I do apologize,” he says, “I remembered both of you from the other night. I assumed you’d be within a safe distance from her but I shouldn’t have engaged in any conversation.”

Ceraphina’s mother looks him up and down, she’s on guard, protecting her baby from this strange man. “No need to apologize,” she finally says, pulling Ceraphina towards her, “I remember you as well. I’m sorry if she was bothering you.”

Coriolanus shakes his head, offering her a kind smile, “She’s not a bother at all.”

Ceraphina looks at her mother triumphantly, “See Mommy? I’m not a bother at all.”

Her mother sighs and shakes her head, “We should get going, we have to stop by your grandfather's office before we go home.”

Coriolanus wants to ask for her name, ask who her father is, and if it’s the gentlemen he saw the other night with her group but they’re all interrupted by the sales associate who chose the worst time to show back up.

“Here are your shoes, Mr. Snow!”

A wave of recognition washes over Ceraphina’s mother’s face but she doesn’t say anything further before they both walk off, Ceraphina looking over her shoulder to wave goodbye.

He waves back because who doesn’t wave back at a five-year-old? But he can’t help but watch them as they go, watch how her mother holds Ceraphina’s hand as they walk onto the escalator, reassuring her that it’s safe.

They’re both wrapped up in their winter coats again, this time both of them are light blue, bringing out their eyes. They’re practically twins which makes him wonder who her husband is. He must know the man from somewhere. He should’ve asked. That would be less creepy than asking who her father is.

“Mr. Snow?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes the shoes. I’ll take them.”

It seems as if fate led him to run into those two again, so he can only hope that the third times the charm.

꧁ ꧂

꧁ Two Weeks Later ꧂

This meeting is taking forever.

Coriolanus drums his fingers against the long mahogany table, somewhat listening to Urban Canville while he drones on and on about meeting quotas and whatnot.

Coriolanus looks over at Festus whose head is tilted back, mouth wide open while he sleeps. Coriolanus wishes he could sleep right now, but with his luck, he'll get caught out. Festus has a knack for getting out of trouble.

"And that," Urban says, slapping the table with his hand, waking up Festus in the process, "is how we're going to be the most successful firm next year." Festus blinks several times, pulling at his necktie, "Yes, yes, good spirits and whatnot for the new year," he mumbles, getting a few nodding heads from their other colleagues.

Ubran smiles, pleased that this meeting has gone so well for him since he was promoted, "Exactly Festus. Now, don't forget about the holiday party, plus ones are allowed but keep the drinking to a limit," he eyes Festus who holds his hands up in surrender, "Someone has to be the life of the party," Festus counters.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, Festus just loves being the center of attention, let alone the party.

Urban doesn't look too convinced, but he dismisses them and Coriolanus is the first one out the door. He's got to finish his yearly report before he can mentally clock out for the rest of the holiday season. He knows Festus will procrastinate and do it at the last second, but Coriolanus prides himself on being timely and dependable.

"Well that took forever," Festus grumbles, meeting him at the end of the hallway, "someone should introduce him to bullet points because that meeting was the entire essay." Coriolanus grins as they round a corner, leading them to the lobby of the fifth floor where the elevators and receptionist desk are located.

The lobby has been decorated for the holidays with garlands and fake pine trees, making the atmosphere more lively. Coriolanus spots the receptionist talking to someone on the phone animatedly, all while glancing over her desk. He frowns, wondering what's gotten her so worked up.

Maybe someone delivered a package to the wrong floor, that's happened before and it's always a mess trying to get it to the right place. But as Coriolanus and Festus round the desk, they come face to face with Ceraphina. Again.

This must be fate.

She brightens up when she sees two familiar faces, Coriolanus more specifically.

"Hello!"

This girl has clearly never met a stranger before.

Coriolanus grins down at her, "Hello, fancy seeing you here."

Ceraphina nods, glancing back at the receptionist who's still rattling off information on the phone, "My grandfather works here," she tells him proudly, putting her hands on her hips. She's wearing a pink dress with long sleeves and little white boots with a pink bow in her hair.

Coriolanus raises his eyebrows and glances at Festus who seems interested as well as to who her grandfather is. "And who might that be?" Festus asks, leaning forward to hear her better. The receptionist sets the phone down loudly, causing all three of them to jump, "She's Glen Nightingale's granddaughter," the woman says with a sigh, "I don't know how she got down here but he's been looking for her everywhere."

Glen Nightingale.

He should've known her grandfather was one of the head owners of the firm. He's practically in the presence of greatness, even if the greatness is only five years old, riding on five and a half.

"How did you get down here?" Coriolanus asks her, knowing that the most important people work on the very top floor. He would know since he works on the floor below them, so close to being at the top.

Ceraphina giggles and bounces on her toes, "I took the elevenator."

Festus chuckles, "You mean the elevator?"

She scrunches her face, shaking her head, "That's what I just said."

"Well, Miss Ceraphina, it seems that I have to take you up to your grandfather's office," the receptionist says with a sigh, acting as if she's so burdened by this responsibility suddenly. Coriolanus chews on his bottom lip a moment before finally making up his mind, "I can take her."

Ceraphina quickly nods and reaches up for his hand, taking it without hesitation, "Yes! He works on the tippy-top floor, it's very high up in the clouds."

Coriolanus nods along while they walk towards the elevator, ignoring the smirk he's getting from Festus. Ceraphina waves goodbye to the receptionist before the doors close, "I can press the button!" She says, swatting away at his hand when he goes to press it.

"You wouldn't happen to be taking her so that you can run into her mother again would you?" Festus whispers, nudging Coriolanus with his elbow, earning him a sharp look from Coriolanus. He made the mistake of telling Festus about his encounter with Glen Nightingale's daughter and granddaughter in the department store the other week and now Festus is convinced that it's a sign.

It would be if Ceraphina's mother wasn't married with a child.

"I'm simply being a good-hearted samaritan, looking to spread some holiday cheer," he replies, looking straight ahead to ignore any teasing looks he might get from Festus.

Festus only scoffs before the doors slide open, letting them out on the top floor. "Can we go again?" Ceraphina asks, tugging on his hand. Coriolanus shakes his head although it's hard to tell her no to anything when she gives him those pleading eyes, batting her eyelashes up at him. How do people ever say no to their children?

"We better find your grandfather's office," he tells her, leading them through the lobby and down the hall. He looks over at the large painting hanging on the left wall, every founder of the company is pictured with a stern-looking face. Glen Nightingale's face looks down on them as they pass by, making Coriolanus feel a little bit nervous about this plan of his now that they're nearing the end.

He hopes that Glen is nice, that he's not some asshole who thinks of himself as being better than everyone else. He at least must love his grandaughter if he brought her with him to work today.

"Ooo, danish delights," Festus says, beelining for the breakroom, "I'll catch up with you later."

Coriolanus needn't be told twice.

Nothing sounds worse than Festus trying to crack a joke with Glen Nightingale, the man who writes their paychecks every two weeks so Coriolanus doesn't fight him on it.

"Do you know my grandfather?" Ceraphina asks him, taking three steps for every step he takes. Coriolanus nods, doing his best to remain calm, cool, and collected, "I do. Well, I know of him," he corrects himself, not needing her to repeat false information, "I work for him."

Ceraphina hums, starting to skip instead of walking down the hall of the most important offices in the entire building, "Lots of people now my grandfather. Mommy says it's because of his job."

Coriolanus wonders if he might run into her mother again, probably not. "Yes, he's a well-known face in the Capitol," he agrees.

They finally reach the end of the hall, coming to a stop in front of the ominous doors that lead to Glen Nightingale's office. Coriolanus braces himself to know, raising up his other hand but Ceraphina beats him to it, shoving the doors open like she owns the place.

"I'm back!"

Coriolanus stays planted in the hallway while Ceraphina prances into the office, her grandfather watching her from behind his large desk. A wall of windows is behind him, giving Coriolanus a gorgeous view of the Capitol skyline. "Where'd you run off to this time sweetheart?" Glen asks, peering over the rim of his glasses at his granddaughter who happily runs around his desk to give him a hug.

It's a sweet sight to witness the important and powerful Glen Nightingale picking his granddaughter up and swooping her into his lap, tickling her and making her laugh. "I went downstairs," she giggles, pushing his glasses further up his nose, "they have a Christmas tree in the lobby downstairs, why don't you have one on your floor?"

Glen smiles, brushing some of her hair out from her face, "I'll have them set a tree up tonight. It'll be here the next time you come and visit, how does that sound?"

"Perfect!"

Glen's attention is finally drawn to Coriolanus who feels so fucking awkward watching this interaction that is a very private one. Many things can be said about Glen Nightingale from a business perspective, but no one really knows anything about his private life.

"And who might you be? Not another grandchild I hope, you're far too old to be running around my building."

Coriolanus grins and Ceraphina gasps, shaking her head and tugging on Glen's shoulder, "He's not your grandchild! I'm your grandchild! He works here," she points at Coriolanus, "we saw him at the restaurant remember?"

Glen seems to remember that short-lived interaction and he nods, "Yes, I do recall seeing your face that night. Snow isn't it?"

Coriolanus can't believe this man knows who he is, even if it's only by his last name. That's a step up in his book. "Yes sir. Coriolanus Snow."

Ceraphina wiggles out of Glen's lap, running over to a small seating area where there are all sorts of dolls and stuffed animals laid out over the rug and furniture, "The receptionist on the fifth floor was going to bring her here but I offered to do it instead. I hope you don't mind."

Glen waves him in, an offer Coriolanus gladly accepts once he closes the doors behind him, "Nonesne," Glen says, shaking his head, "you're a man who takes initiative, a man who remembers faces and looks out for those who are in trouble. Although my little Ceraphina is rarely ever in trouble."

Ceraphina looks over her shoulder at him, her eyes lit up with excitement, "Mhm, I'm very well behaved." Both men chuckle and Glen rises from his chair, "And very modest too."

Coriolanus watches her play with her dolls, in her own little world really. "She's very well-mannered," he tells Glen, "I've never met such a confident child, especially a young lady." Most little girls he's come across have hidden behind their parent's legs, not wanting to talk to him at all and he can't really blame them, he's not the most approachable-looking man with his stern face.

But Ceraphina doesn't seem to think so.

Glen stops next to him, both of them watching his granddaughter play," Yes," he agrees, "she's very extroverted. It's my daughter who's the shy one, makes me wonder where Ceraphina got all her spunk."

Before Coriolanus can ask where exactly Glen's daughter is, the doors fly open, this time it's a taller blonde with blue-gray eyes opening them, "You found her?"

It's Ceraphina's mother, panting which means she probably ran to get here. She looks flustered, and she clearly didn't expect to see Coriolanus standing in her father's office, "Coriolanus here found her," Glen says, patting Coriolanus on the shoulder while he tries to look like he's not kissing up to her father.

"Oh thank goodness," she says, rushing past both of them to get to Ceraphina who smiles up at her, oblivious to how many people have probably been looking for her. "Mommy, can we go get lunch now?"

Her mother nods, looking back over at Coriolanus for a moment before crouching down to be at eye level with her daughter, "You can't run off like that darling," she says softly, holding Ceraphina's face in her hands, "someone else could've found you and taken you. That's why I tell you not to talk to strangers, you're all I have."

Coriolanus frowns, all she has?

"She's perfectly safe here Soarynn," Glen says to his daughter.

Soarynn, what a beautiful name.

Soarynn sighs, shaking her head, "You don't know that," she tells her father, standing back up and walking over to them, "he's not going to be there every time she runs off," she gestures towards Coriolanus, "and your secretary isn't being paid to watch after her either."

Well, this is awkward.

Coriolanus takes this as an opportunity to admire how Soarynn looks today, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her outfit today is a gray dress, fitting her perfectly at the waist and stopping above the ankle.

"I don't think we've formally met," he says, reaching out his hand to her, "I'm Coriolanus Snow."

Soarynn looks at his hand, not immediately taking it which makes him feel so stupid but she finally takes it and he can't help but notice how small her hand is, how soft and dainty it feels in his large hand.

"I'm sorry we have to keep meeting like this," she says, pulling her hand from his, and Coriolanus is quick to shake his head, "Don't be. There's worse people to constantly be running into."

Stupid, stupid, he chides himself, why did he have to word it like that?

But it seems that Glen Nightingale is on his own agenda because he places his hand on Soarynn's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, "Perhaps you two could arrange a meeting, like over dinner, lit by candlelight."

Soarynn scoffs, giving her father a nasty glare, "I don't think Coriolanus is inter-"

"Well you never know until you ask honey," Glen cuts her off, "and I don't see a ring on his finger. You're not married are you Coriolanus?"

He feels...caught for some reason but Coriolanus quickly shakes his head, flashing the father-daughter-duo a smile, "No sir. I'm free as a bird."

Glen hums, "See? It's as easy as that."

Soarynn looks desperate to get out of this conversation, slapping her father's hand away, "It's not as easy at that," she tells him, "and I think we're going to go to lunch. We'll see you at home."

Glen doesn't fight her on it, simply watching Soarynn help Ceraphina gather all her toys into a bag before putting on their coats, "Goodbye!" Ceraphina says, running over to give her grandfather a hug. Glen kneels down, groaning when she throws her arms around her neck, "Goodbye my girl, enjoy lunch and be good for your mother."

Ceraphina smiles, placing a kiss on his cheek, "I will!"

She looks up at Coriolanus a bit unsure of how to say goodbye to him, "Thanks for rescuing me." Coriolanus chuckles, he'd hardly consider that rescuing but he's glad she sees it that way, "It was my pleasure," he tells her.

Ceraphina is out the door before anyone can say another word, that girl is a little busybody if he's ever seen one. Soarynn sighs, offering him a polite smile, "Thank you for bringing her back."

"Of course."

He hoped she might say a little bit more but Soarynn Nightingale is a woman of few words apparently because she turns to her father, giving him a kiss on the cheek before promising to see him at home, and just like that, she's gone.

The office seems much more empty now that it's just the two of them.

"You have a beautiful family," Coriolanus tells Glen, and he means it too. If his family ever ends up being half as lovely as Glens, he'll consider himself a successful man. Glen grins, pushing his glasses back up his nose once again, "Thank you. I'm very lucky to have both girls in my life. I do apologize for trying to set you up on a date with my daughter, she's just so shy and you seem like a good man Coriolanus Snow."

Those words mean more than Glen could ever know, but Coriolanus doesn't let it show, simply nodding, "Thank you, sir, I try to be."

He really does, and he's going to make it his new mission to find out more about Soarynn Nightingale.

꧁ ꧂

"It says here that Glen Nightingale's wife died twenty-four years ago."

Coriolanus frowns when he hears what Festus has found during their "research session." If he can even call it that. They're both sitting in his study at home, nursing glasses of whiskey. Festus needed to get out of the house and away from his crying son, and Coriolanus needed an assistant to help him find out more about the Nightingales.

It worked out for both of them.

"Soarynn looked to be around twenty-four," he mumbles, flipping through old newspapers, "so that could mean that..."

He doesn't want to finish his sentence, doesn't want to suggest that it could mean that Mrs. Nightingale died during childbirth, much like his own mother when trying to give birth to his little sister.

"It says she died giving birth to their only daughter, Soarynn Nightingale. Wow you were right, she is very pretty. Anyways, it says he has one grandchild, Ceraphina Nightingale, but I can't find anything else about Soarynn."

He already knows that. What he wants to know is where is Ceraphina's father? He's clearly not in the picture if Glen is trying to set Soarynn up with dates, but Soarynn seemed so withdrawn from the idea. Repulsed even, and he took that personally.

"It doesn't say anything about a father?"

"Nope. But maybe she never got married since she still has her maiden name."

Or she's divorced, Coriolanus thinks, flipping through more articles.

Festus sighs, stretching in his armchair, "I mean, think about it, if Ceraphina is five, and Soarynn is twenty-four, then that means she had her when she was nineteen. And no one from a prominent family like hers is just having kids on purpose at nineteen. I think it was wedlock."

Coriolanus frowns, that actually might make sense, which is terrible.

"But then she would be married," he counters, "if she did get pregnant by accident, the families would have them get married before announcing the pregnancy to cover it up and there's no way they'd allow for a divorce."

When you're in a prominent family such as the Snows, the Nightingales, or the Creeds, divorce is a recipe for disaster. No one gets divorced unless there's a case of abuse.

If Soarynn did get married out of wedlock, she'd have a ring on her finger.

"She still lives with her father," Festus points out, "so maybe she did get divorced but they just covered it up really well."

Maybe, but that still seems unlikely.

Coriolanus groans and grabs another stack of newspapers, "No, it has to be something else. Glen wouldn't be that...passive and encouraging if that was the case. He was trying to set us up on a date, what type of father does that if his daughter had a baby out of wedlock and then turned around to get divorced?"

Festus shrugs, "A terrible one," he jokes, not getting a single laugh out of Coriolanus who merely rolls his eyes in response. Coriolanus keeps going through newspapers, searching for something, anything.

Then he lands on a tragic page. A page mentioning a terrible car accident, with no survivors.

"What're you looking at? Oh, I remember that, poor Felix," Festus says, shaking his head, "can't believe it's been five years since he passed."

Coriolanus slams his hand on the desk, "THAT'S IT!"

Festus topples out of his chair, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

"Felix Ravenstill was seeing a girl before the accident, remember? And she had just graduated from the Academy, he said she was very pretty but very shy. He also said her dad was as rich as his dad, but that doesn't matter. But right before the accident, he started getting really nervous, remember? He was always on edge, always leaving lectures to go talk to someone on the phone."

Festus groans from his spot on the floor, rubbing his head, "So what? You think he was courting Soarynn and got her pregnant?"

Coriolanus nods, pacing back and forth now that he's putting the pieces back together, "Yes, I remember seeing the Glen at the funeral, but Soarynn wasn't there. I would've remembered seeing her there. Oh it makes perfect sense, he got her pregnant, and before they could do anything about it he cr-"

"He died," Festus says, cutting him off, "leaving her pregnant and alone to raise their baby. At least Ceraphina looks like her mother because Felix wasn't very good-looking if you can remember."

Coriolanus scoffs, barely thinking about Felix any more. He can't believe he put the pieces together. Well, he thinks he put the pieces together, but he's not entirely sure. The Nightingales and the Ravenstills must have agreed to keep it a secret due to how tragic of a loss it already was.

How sad, he can’t imagine being so young and having to raise a child alone. At least she’s rich. And her father seems very supportive, not holding it against her at all.

Festus finally peels himself off the floor, dusting off his pants for good measures, “I say we quit our day jobs and invest in a mystery-solving business,” he proposes, “except we don’t solve any real crimes because people who go poking their noses into things like that always wind up dead. But rich housewife drama? It’s perfect! I can see it now: ‘Creed & Snow Investigations’!”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, “My last name would come first, and we’re not quitting our day jobs.”

He can’t quit for many reasons but the most important reason right now is to learn more about the woman he can't seem to get out of his head. He's just got to play his cards right.

꧁ ꧂

"Have you seen the guest list for the holiday party yet?"

"No, do you have it?"

"Yes! Some of these men aren't even bringing their wives!"

Coriolanus pretends to be very interested in his cup of coffee while eavesdropping on the conversation between two secretaries from two separate floors. If he can sneak a look at the guest list, he can find out if Soarynn is coming to the holiday party.

He just has to get his hands on the list.

Which is why he's planned a distraction. And it should be going off any minute now...

"I'M HURT! OH, I'M HURT! CALL A MEDIC! CALL AN AMBULANCE! OH DON'T TAKE ME YET! I HAVE A WIFE AND CHILD AND GOODNESS KNOWS MY WIFE CAN'T WORK MORE THAN TWO HOURS WITHOUT COMPLAINING ABOUT IT! OH, SOMEONE HELP! SOMEONE LIKE A SECRETARY!"

Coriolanus should've asked someone else to be the distraction.

But both secretaries are running out of the breakroom in seconds to find out who's causing all this racket, and they're going to be pissed when they see that it's Festus.

But Coriolanus doesn't have a moment to waste, he crosses the breakroom in seconds, grabbing the papers that have every guest written down in neat, printed letters. He scans through the papers, his hopes slowly dwindling when he doesn't see Soarynn's name.

He flips to the last page and has to hold in a dramatic gasp. Because there it is.

'Soarynn Nightingale.'

He figured Glen would bring her but one can never be too sure. But now he knows and he's got to show up looking irresistible.

He sets the papers back down where he found them and not a moment too soon because the secretaries are walking back in a second later, grumbling and shaking their heads.

Coriolanus feigns a look of concern, "Is everything alright? Who was injured?"

The secretary who works on his floor, Constance rolls her eyes and grabs the papers, "It was Mr. Creed who was screaming like a small child."

"What happened? Is he alright?"

Constance scoffs and shakes her head, "He had a paper cut. I don't get paid enough to put up with this."

Coriolanus does his best to conceal his smirk, he didn't know what lie Festus would come up with, but a papercut sounds about right. "Oh, I forgot to ask but will you be bringing anyone to the holiday party Mr. Snow?"

Coriolanus shakes his head, acting nonchalant, "Nope. Just me, myself and I."

But he's hoping to change that.

| Part 1. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Dangerous Liaisons

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: angst, prison!loki

Summary: You do your best to make sure the prisoners of the prison you work at get the utmost care that you can give them. The prison gets a new inmate, one that you see yourself connecting with.

Squares Filled: prison au (2021) for @lokibingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

You leave the prisoner’s cell with a heavy sigh. Most of the time, you like your job because that means you’re healing people but not when they try and kill you, too. This American prison is one of the worst in the country because it houses the worst of the worst, the most dangerous individuals known to man. Your brother often tells you that you should quit and work in the hospital he works at, but you actually like it here as weird as it sounds.

Some of the prisoners are a menace that makes you want to quit your job, but there are other prisoners who think of prison as a rehab and try to get better. They’re still the most dangerous men due to the nature of their crimes, but at least they’re trying to become better.

You’re here to nurse anyone back to health because believe it or not, there are a lot of stabbings that happen here. You do your best to take care of the inmates as much as you can without letting the job affect you that much. Mental health is just as important.

You walk back to your station in the middle of the prison where the other nurses are gossiping. You try not to participate in the gossip especially when it comes to the other inmates, but it’s hard not to when you work so closely with one another.

“What are you two whispering about?” you ask.

“Did you hear? We’re getting another inmate.”

“Really? Aren't we at capacity?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Who is it?” you ask.

Neither women know the answer to that. All they know is that he is probably the worst of the worst, and that’s saying something. It doesn’t take long for the new inmate to get here, and you’re looking out the window for him. A herd of guards walks down the hallway with the new inmate stuck in between them. You gasp when you see the prisoner. You know who that is. You’ve seen him destroy New York while you were safe in your house in another state.

Loki’s chains connect his ankle handcuffs and wrist handcuffs, only allowing him enough room to take a small step forward. He has a metal muzzle on his face, covering just his mouth. He can use magic so they thought putting a muzzle on him was best to keep him from using it. He doesn’t look bothered about being here but maybe he’s really good at hiding his true emotions.

Loki looks at the nurse’s station and locks eyes with you. Even though there is a muzzle over his mouth, you can see the smirk on his face. His eyes are a powerful blue that gives his expressions away. A shiver rolls down your spine from how intense his gaze is. You’ve met and been with men who knew how to take your breath away, but never has someone been able to do that just by looking at you.

Plus, it doesn’t help that he’s extremely good-looking.

From what you can see, he has cuts and bruises on his face from what, you’re not sure. The guards take Loki to the most secure prison cell in the place. The place had been under construction for a while, probably getting Loki’s cell ready. The warden walks into the nurse’s station and approaches you.

“Consider him your new patient.”

“What?”

“I don’t want anyone else but you with him. You’re the best nurse I’ve got on staff, but don’t tell the others,” he jokes.

“Oh...kay,” you say slowly.

“Don’t worry about him hurting you. We have taken extra precautions to ensure everyone’s safety. There are guards in place if the chains fail, but they won’t. Tony Stark made them.”

“Do you need me to do it now?”

Preferably within the hour. We don’t want to give him an excuse to be let out.”

You go as soon as you can just so you can get this out of the way. You don’t know Loki, only what he’s done, but you know more than most that your actions don’t define who you are. Look at some of the prisoners here. They know what they did was wrong and are trying to better themselves for it even though they may never be released from prison.

You gasp when you see Loki chained up like some animal. The muzzle is still on his face and a chain is hooked to the chain connecting his arms and legs. That chain is connected to a hook on the floor so he can’t escape. Loki is a magical being that is over a thousand years old (yes, you did research on him). If he wants out of the chains, he’s getting out. Why isn’t he? Why did they let him take him? The other inmates have free roam in their cells but Loki is chained to the ground.

How is that fair?

You walk up to Loki and look into his blazing blue eyes. They’re like oceans. He looks like he’d be the quiet one even without the muzzle on.

“Hi, my name is Y/N. I’ll be your nurse. I’m here to clean you up and make sure those cuts aren’t going to get infected.” He doesn’t say anything, obviously. “I’ll be by every day to make sure your wounds aren’t infected and to check your vitals to make sure you’re not sick.”

You roll over a table and put your first aid kit on it, pulling out the things you need. You use a cotton swab to clean up the blood around the edges of the wounds before dabbing a paper towel on the wounds gently. He doesn’t seem to be in pain and if he is, he doesn't show it.

“Let me tell you a little bit about me so you’re not uncomfortable with me. I started working here about six years ago. It’s not always the best but I love what I do. My brother who is a doctor wants me to work in his hospital but I don’t think I’d ever leave here. When I’m not working here, I like to do ceramics. I have a kiln at home where I make my own bowls and other little sculptures. I don’t need the money but I like to sell them. People seem to like it.”

Loki has a twinkle in his eyes as he listens to you ramble. You do that when you’re nervous, and he really makes you nervous. You continue to ramble as you clean his wounds, finishing in just over an hour later. You leave his cell and return to the nurse’s station in thought. You did minor research on Loki when he attacked New York, and you set a reminder to do some more when you go home tonight. It doesn’t matter what anyone at this prison has done. No one should be locked up like an animal. Your coworkers don’t share the same views as you, but everyone is entitled to their opinion.

When you return to work the next day, the first prisoner you see is Loki. There are guards located outside of his cell twenty-four-seven but you don’t think Loki will escape… maybe. You walk to his cell but the guards don’t move from their spot. Each prisoner gets an hour of your time each day with the more severe cases getting an extra one. They like Loki to be last so that you can focus on everyone else and not give him special privileges, but there is no way you’re putting his health risks below others.

“Excuse me.”

“We can’t let you enter.”

“What did you just say?”

“The warden said--”

“I don’t care what the warden says. My job is to take care of prisoners with wounds, and Loki has several cuts not only to his face but upper chest. Cuts that if left untreated will get infected causing him to be sick and possibly die. Even if he didn’t have anything physically wrong with him, you have him locked up like some animal so he isn’t getting exercise. His muscles will start to atrophy. Now, do you want me to report that to the warden or do you want to step aside and let me do my damn job?”

Both guards look at each other before stepping away from the door. You lift your nose up and yank the door open before walking inside. Loki looks up when he sees you and almost smiles at the determination on your face. You roll the same first aid cart over to Loki and remove the bandages to check on his wounds.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. What was I supposed to say to them? It’s not right how they’re treating you.” You grab more cotton swabs and wipe away the leakage that’s expected to come from the wounds. “Anyhow, aren’t Gods supposed to self-heal?” You pause. “That’s what I hear you are. You and Thor. Gods. Norse Gods, actually. Sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous. You make me nervous.”

You grab the stitches to stitch two wounds together since they are deep enough to leave a scar if not properly healed.

“I read about you when I got home last night like some stalker fangirl.” Your eyes widen. “Which I’m not, by the way. I just… I saw what you did to New York on TV. I know what you did in Germany.” His eyes grow sad. “Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re as bad as they say you are. We all make mistakes, right?”

Of course, he doesn’t answer. You take your time in stitching up the two wounds before cleaning the rest of them and putting bandages back on them. Next, you check to make sure the restraints aren’t on too tight because you’d hate if you were the one being restrained and it was uncomfortable.

“Are you uncomfortable?” you ask. He shakes his head in response. “Have they brought you any food?” Another shake. “Are you hungry?” This time, he nods. “Okay, I’ll be right back with something to eat. Any preferences?”

Your joke makes the edges of his eyes crinkle. He’s smiling underneath his muzzle. That’s a good sign, you think. You leave and head to the cafeteria to get a tray of food for him. You sneak in one or two extra items just because you’re feeling generous. The door to the kitchen slams open and the warden walks in with fire in his eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“No, what do you think you’re doing? Are you keeping food from Loki? He deserves to eat.”

“A monster like him doesn’t deserve that. Plus, he’s not even human.”

“If he doesn’t eat, he’ll die,” you glare.

The warden shrugs as if that doesn’t bother him. He looks at the tray in your hands before leaving. You roll your eyes and continue filing the tray until you have more than enough for him. The guards don’t give you any trouble when you return back to Loki’s cell. He looks up and sees the food. He has to admit, he is hungry but he doesn’t think he’d accept any food if it didn’t come from you. You two have only known each other for less than two days but he feels a sort of connection with you that he has never made with a human.

You roll the first aid cart over to you and clear off the top before putting the tray there. With both hands free, you reach up and touch the clasp of the muzzle.

“I’m going to take this off now. I don’t think it’s right that they have this on you like some kind of animal.”

You remove the muzzle but Loki still doesn’t say anything. Since his hands are chained, you have to feed him but he doesn’t seem to mind. You take your time and ramble on about the different sculptures you’ve made, momentarily forgetting where you are.

“I’m not gonna put this back on,” you say about the muzzle once Loki has finished everything you brought to him. “Like I said. I don’t think it’s right.” With the muzzle off, you can see the hint of a smile on his face. Loki shifts and you look at the restraints on him. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m going to loosen your restraints just a little. They look tight.” You use the master key and loosen his restraints, allowing him some more room to stand properly and move about. “Is that better?” He nods. “I’ll be back later with more food and to check to see how you’re doing.”

You take the empty tray and leave his cell. You spend more time checking on the other prisoners than you’d like only because two of them got into a stabbing match in the courtyard. After you get done with them, you go back to the nurse’s station to grab some snacks from your lunch box. It’s better than eating that slop in the cafeteria.

You’re the last one left in the nurse’s station since all the others have gone home for the day. You have more patients than the others because most of them request you to fix them. It doesn’t matter what someone did, you’ll treat them the same way you treat everyone else. It’s better for your conscious.

All of a sudden, the lights go out in the station only for bright red lights to replace them. Alarms echo down the hallway, and most of the prisoners become erratic from the sound. Someone has escaped. They only put those alarms out when someone has escaped from their cell. It better not be Jacobson. He has a habit of finding new ways to piss off the warden.

You continue putting food on the tray when you feel a breeze a your back. The door is open. You look up and see a figure standing behind you through the reflection on the window. That’s not Jacobson. For one, he’s a very lanky short man. The man behind you is tall… very tall. You’re frozen in fear because you have no idea who is behind you. If he wanted to, he could kill you without a second thought.

“Hello, darling.” The man steps underneath the red light and you see those piercing blue eyes. You turn to face Loki as he walks closer to you. His voice is much deeper than you thought it’d be… much more raspy. You must have loosened the restraints too much. He reaches out to you and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m not scared,” you say truthfully.

“Good girl,” he grins. “I wish I could stay but I have somewhere I need to be. Believe me when I say I’ll be back.”

He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. Just like that, he’s gone. You believe him when he says he’ll be back. Funny thing is, you’re kind of looking forward to it.

x

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