#Here. it’s kind of an exorcism

[dirtbra1n]

shirahama kyouji isn’t convinced that tashiro’s actually seeing into hanzawa senpai’s dreams. bite him. but, okay, sure, whatever. as far as he’s concerned, tashiro doesn’t have to acknowledge this river as a real thing unless he really wants to. or needs to. what-ever.

what does he know. right?

not like he’s been getting calls from tashiro in the dead of night with alarming frequency lately. not like he’s being turned to like some kind of romantic gospel. it feels like a mean prank, honestly. Stop asking me about romance, Tashiro, you punk.

he sighs, holds the door for tashiro, clears his throat. “But, anyway, isn’t this whole thing kind of one-sided? Like, here you are lopping off his limbs or whatever—”

“Hey—”

“—but I don’t hear anything about him cutting into YOU. Aren’t YOU worth digging into? Isn’t he curious about the stuff going on in YOUR brain?”

“…If you’d just stayed in the ping pong club…”

“UGH, never mind.”

honestly speaking, kyouji thinks he’s a really good friend. just on the principle that he’s not just willing to but practiced in the art of grinding support levels. reading between the lines. pushing boundaries a little.

girls might call him delusional. or nosy. kind of pushy, maybe. he doesn’t let it get to him.

tashiro is just the kind of guy who doesn’t even realize that he isn’t letting anyone in, and the kind of guy that other people don’t realize they don’t know much about. and kyouji met him in middle school, and they became friends somehow.

it’s actually really easy to be friends with someone. it’s just a lot of work to be friends about it.

as in, like. kyouji was gaming tashiro’s friendship for at least a couple weeks before tashiro noticed and asked kyouji if he was gaming his friendship, to which he said “No.”

anyway, this is all kind of to say that kyouji hadn’t really realized he’d maxed out his support levels until that first 2:42 am call about death dreams and hanzawa senpai, and he got split between asking about the whole dying thing and confirming that it was, uh.

hanzawa senpai?

tashiro, if asked, would say that he’d definitely mentioned at least once the weird situation he’d gotten into there. kyouji would concede that point, sort of, except he’d argue in response that “weird situation” applies much more to the almost-but-not-quite confession than it does to… dying over and over? in front of you?

kyouji takes to sitting in stairways to mull these things over. he could be in the classroom eating lunch with miyano right now, but he’s a good friend. long-term investments. he is such a good friend.

“Like, really,” he murmurs to himself, worrying his banana milk’s straw between his teeth, “These have to count as your dreams too. Right?” he hears voices drifting down from the hallway and really hopes his isn’t doing the same.

it probably is. talking to the tashiro that exists in his head like a nut. man.

he leans back on his elbows to stare at the ceiling. “Keep talking over and over about how you’re intruding on his dreams and, like, no offense, Tashiro, but,” he sighs through his nose. completely hopeless. a completely hopeless nut. “Man. Your sleep, in your bed, in your head. Those are your dreams, mind link or not.”

he groans. puts the empty carton on the step next to him. tosses an arm over his eyes.

“Willpower, I guess. Maybe. Not that it’s something you have to do, but…”

somebody walks down the stairs, passing him warily. the carton goes skittering.

I guess if you want him to live enough awake and live enough asleep, it’s got to work out eventually.

he moves his arm and opens his eyes a little while later to see tashiro crouching in front of him.

kyouji squints. “I see you finally saw my text.”

tashiro hums evenly. “I was doing the rounds.”

a twinge in his forehead. he turns his head, crosses his arms. “Left here lying on the stairs, all dusty, cramping, just so Mister Popular can go talk to his friends…”

ka-tonk.

kyouji rubs his forehead. “For what’s it’s worth—“

“Not a lot.”

“Shut up. I think Senpai wants to live as much as anyone.”

that gives tashiro pause.

it’s kind of part of the reason kyouji doesn’t end up saying this next part out loud—he doesn’t know hanzawa senpai that well personally, anyway.

I don’t think anyone who wants to die would spend as much energy as he does doing all of… everything…

he doesn’t know hanzawa senpai that well personally, but he also doesn’t say it because…

man, it’s definitely bad luck in his fortune to go thinking about people he knows and bucket lists at the same time.

[lilybug-02]

Patience and responsibility....that's a promise....right?

Part 27 First || Previous || Next

--Full Series--

An exorcism? In my family-friendly Deltarune? It's more likely than you may think. The backgrounds here were very interesting! Much more complex than how I usually do them (especially that computer).

Player POV:

Feral energy.

[wildsaltair]

if anyone says Russell Crowe is not as good looking as he used to be, please direct them to this picture

[snapewives-supremacy]

normal people: yeah, i’ve been struggling with acne since i was in 5th grade

me: in 5th grade, the demon Thealioum possessed me, taking over my life and taunting me for the next three years until he took over my body fully, causing the entire school to evacuate until i was safely removed.

[blkkizzat]

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟷........... THE STRONGEST ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series

visitor log: its midday and your clingy-ass boyfriend—gojo satoru—should be hard at work right getting rid of these doppels not knocking at your door—gotta be a fake... right?! classifications: bimbo!reader (canonverse of otaku!gojo's bunny!reader), yandere-esque Gojo, nipple play, recorded sex, lots of sex toys, dirty talk, panty theft, extreme overstim + slight omorashi. incidents: 4.4k .......shout outs to @yung-notorious for beta-ing some of this!

*knock-knock-knock-knock-knock*

Rapid, insistent knocks interrupt your laughter as you chat with friends, carefully brushing a fresh coat of polish onto your toes. You weren’t expecting anyone, but the familiar, overly enthusiastic rhythm—knocking out the tune of Rick Astley’s "Never Gonna Give You Up"—leaves no doubt who it is.

Satoru.

You sigh.

Although you haven’t seen Gojo much lately and are usually happy to see him, his timing this time irritates you for a couple reasons—first, of course he’d interrupt right in the middle of your much-needed girl time! You were desperate to hang with your friends again, especially after being stuck in lockdown for the last 2 weeks.

There was some juicy tea getting spilled on the call too! 

More importantly, you weren't in a hurry to get up from the sofa—especially with your freshly painted white toes you’d propped up on the coffee table to dry. The last thing you wanted was to ruin them by getting dust on them while answering the door when Gojo wasn’t even supposed to be here right now.

“BBL, y’all.”

Reluctantly ending the call, you switched over to your Ring camera app. 

Sure enough, the security feed loads to reveal Gojo, grinning up at the camera with his glasses perched on the brim of his nose and a large pink shopping bag in hand.

Huh? There’s no way he’s off-work already! 

Taking note of the time it reads 1:30 p.m. confirming that Jujutsu society’s strongest sorcerer is skipping out on work, again—pshh typical. 

“C’mon babe, let me in!”

Urgh, what was he even doing here?! 

Shouldn’t he be the one leading the charge to kill all the doppelgängers? The faster he exorcized them, the sooner you’d finally be able to go outside again.

This doppelgänger outbreak felt like covid quarantine all over and it sucked! 

Satoru needed to get his ass back to work so you wouldn’t waste the best years of your life cooped up inside!

“Go away, doppelgänger!”

You use the intercom feature to speak to Gojo, still not budging from the sofa.

Gojo pouts.

“But it's me, baby! Open the door Bunny bae, please I missed you princess—it’s been too long!”

Satoru’s annoyingly pretty baby blues look even bigger as he pleads into the camera, his lip quivering, making you roll your eyes.

It’s barely been 48 hrs since you’ve last seen him and he still blows up your texts all day! 

But the world’s strongest sorcerer was also the world’s clingiest—so you suppose his doppelgänger would be too. Although, you were pretty sure this was the real deal, that still didn’t mean you wouldn’t give him shit for skipping out on work.

“Huh, that’s funny because there's no way you could be my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, the strongest—and the one who is supposed to be making sure I’m not stuck in the house for another 2 years. It’s been freaking 2 weeks already Toru, I’m going batshit in here!”

Pushing his glasses back in place Gojo hides his scoff, standing up straight. 

Shit.

He hopes you aren’t onto him. 

Sure, he could have contained this whole thing in a few days tops.

Despite the doppelgänger ability to mimic appearances and cursed energy patterns, Gojo’s Six Eyes could see right through it easily. His power allowed him to perceive the core of a soul with perfect clarity, instantly distinguishing the souls of a human and a curse.

But instead of resolving the problem quickly, Gojo made up all kinds of excuses to you (and especially to the higher-ups) about why it was taking longer than expected. 

The truth was, simple though—for once, just this once, he decided he had earned the right to be selfish.

Not having met you until after the covid quarantine, Gojo had never experienced that kind of isolation with you—and was immensely jealous that your last boyfriend had. Now that he had a taste of it, there was nothing he wanted more than to keep his lil bun-bun safely caged up, waiting for his return everyday (and he did try to make it back everyday).

Okay, so he is in fact being really selfish.

Luckily for everyone else though, most of these doppelgänger  curses are relatively harmless other than causing absolute chaos with their mere existence alone—unfortunately they could also be seen by people even lacking cursed energy.

Gojo took care of the stronger ones, the ones with more nefarious intentions, while letting the little ones continue to run loose—all so he could have you to himself. 

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo is intentionally sentencing you to what seems like a never ending cycle of boredom so that when he finally gets home you cling to him like a grain of sweet sticky rice. So eager for any external stimuli or interaction you’d be up for all manner of his perversions you’d normally shoot him down for.

That didn’t mean you weren’t still a brat though, making him work for it—something that Gojo also noted was his fault though for spoiling you rotten, not being able to deny you anything. So you pretend to be annoyed when he showed up, but Gojo knew the truth—those thick thighs of yours would soon have your slick running down. Your cute, slutty lil pussy dripping would start dripping the moment you’d hear his voice.

Yeah, yeah, he’d get rid of those things eventually—but Gojo was going to enjoy this quarantine with you for a bit longer. 

“Even the strongest need a break baby! I need my sweet lil’ energizer Bunny to recharge my batteries, eh?”

You crinkle up your nose seeing him wiggle his eyebrows on camera. 

He's such a dorky cornball.

“And this break…it’s approved by Yaga, hm?” Gojo whines at your questioning, not wanting you to deny him any longer nor throw technicalities in his face he didn’t wanna have to answer.

“Come on, Bunny! I even brought you real nice gifts to show you how much I missed you!”

The hot pink shopping bag sways in front of the camera, Gojo dangling it as if it were supposed to be a tempting treat. 

But he’d have to do better than some generic pink shopping bag to impress you!

You’ve gone back to your toenails, starting to apply the top coat while you let him squirm out there for a while longer. You knew he could break the barrier in the blink of an eye but you also knew that he was a big enough baby to want you to let him in on your own. 

Well tough luck brah.

“That sure doesn’t look like a Chanel shopping bag, Toru!”

“Um, that’s cause it’s not—Bunny you told me you don’t even like me picking you out clothes anymore!”

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes—of course you said that as whenever Gojo picked something out for you, it ended up being the most scandalous or over-the-top piece in the store. How he would even managed that at a classy brand like Chanel, you had no idea. (Though, little do you know, in reality, he always acted they were ready-to-wear while they were custom-made—just for you.)

“I got us some toys, baby bun! Don’t you wanna play with me?”

You don’t need to ask him ‘what kind of toys’ from the goofy ass expression that is on his face. 

“That’s not making me want to let you in at all, Doru!”  

“Hah? Wha—Doru!?”

“Yeah, short for Dopple-Toru.”

You try to keep a straight face but can’t help giggling as you sneak a peek at your phone, still putting on as if you're completely ignoring him. His expression on the camera is priceless though and you wish you could snap a screenshot of his mouth wide open, glasses nearly sliding off, looking utterly incredulous.

“Hey! Come on, Bunny bae, that's not funny! I know you know it’s me—and I also know your pretty pussy misses me!” 

Oh knew, it was your perv ass boyfriend and yeah you did miss him—but you missed your freedom more! And for that reason you are gonna make him think twice before trying to skip out on work again. Not to mention, for having the nerve to show up once you finally found something interesting to stave away your boredom other than him!

“Hmm, I don’t know—prove it then, Doru…”

While Gojo loves goading you into playing games and usually lets you win them too, after nearly 48 ‘grueling hours’ away from you, all he wants now is to simply relax in your company. Ya know, nothing too crazy, just the typical cuddles with him calmly resting his face on your titties while his cock nestles deep up against your cervix—just something casual.

Gojo calling your bluff, ups the ante.

“Heh, kay…”

You’re actually not paying attention this time, admiring your work on your toes and contemplating on the color you should paint your fingernails as Gojo goes silent for a moment. 

Yet once you hear a loud zip, the rustling of fabric, and a belt clank to the ground your eyes practically bulge out of your head as you grab your phone, bringing it comically close to your face while blinking multiple times just to be sure. 

Satoru quite literally has dick and balls out, dangling in the breeze, in front of the entire goddamn neighborhood!

And despite your initial horror and best efforts to remain upset, you pause, your inner slut causing a slight brain malfunction—as even from the small ring camera you can see his deliciously thick cock bobbing fully erect while his mushroomy tip shamelessly drips viscous globs of pre onto your welcome mat.

Thankfully your short-circuiting of common sense only lasts a few seconds before it starts functioning again.

“TORU HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING SUGAR-FUELED MIND!? YOU KNOW THE HOA IS ONE MORE INCIDENT AWAY FROM KICKING ME OUT, RIGHT!?”

Sighing, you groan in dismay as you’ve been on thin ice with your HOA for a while now because of Gojo. 

Not only have you received the most noise complaints in the neighborhood by far, but he also made ‘alterations’ to your home by installing unsanctioned rows of cypress trees. Claiming it was a safety precaution to block the view inside your home from your ‘sketchy neighbors.’ He also ever so obnoxiously takes up 2 parking spots on the street so no one could even “park too close to scratch his Benz” and even sometimes double parked in front of your neighbors house when all the street parking was taken.

You would most definitely be kicked out if anyone in the neighborhood saw all of Gojo’s fairly large bits and pieces freely on display.

And yeah, Gojo did know that. 

He also knew if you got kicked out and had to move you’d have no excuse then not to move-in with him.

Where else would you be able to stay on such short notice? He soon turn that temporary situation into a more permanent one too.

Finally leaping to your feet, you practically trip over yourself—all thoughts of preserving your polish forgotten—as you sprint to the front door.

You can’t get there fast enough, yet as soon as you do, you don't hesitate to lower the barrier and fling the door open.

“Hey sweetn—”

Cutting him off, you grab Gojo by his collar and yank him inside before slamming the door shut behind you.

But you don’t get a chance to scold him. The moment you turn to face him, your lips suddenly meet his, and his large frame envelops yours into a warm embrace.

Your first instinct is to push him away, but even when meeting your furious eyes he just grins knowingly—twirling his pointer finger in the air above him. You frown, confused, until it hits you—Gojo has set up another barrier over your own.

No one could have seen him, but he’d let you believe that so you’d let him in faster.

Urgh, Toru is far too crafty for his own damned good.

It's your turn to pout now, having clearly lost this round badly. 

But Gojo doesn’t let the expression linger—his mouth is hot and hungry on yours again in an instant. Your soft lips are easily parted by his thumb as he slows to tease his way past your lips to glide his silken tongue into your mouth causing him to sigh—you taste sweeter than any candy to him.

The kiss soon turns more passionate as the strokes of his tongue flick longingly over yours, devouring you as he skillfully melts away your anger—in addition to all the bones in your legs. Reduced to a puddle of goo you completely forget you were just about to cuss him out as your legs now press together from the throbbing between your thighs. Your need becoming more agonizing as you grow dizzy from the lack of air.

When Gojo finally lets you breathe again, he chuckles at your dazed expression. Your lids are lowered and you press your body deeper into his own, clutching onto his collar as you nestle your face into his neck, savoring his scent washing over you. 

“So despite all that sass, I take it you actually missed me then?”

You nod eagerly against his skin, in spite of yourself. Even though he isn’t supposed to be here right now, you can’t hold back any longer how happy you are to see him.

“And my pretty Bunny girl is going to let me play with her now?—All of her?”

You gasp as Gojo does not wait for an answer before slipping a hand into your shorts. Hissing at your heat, Gojo swipes his thumb over the outer folds of your cunt and his fingers quickly are becoming soaked before they even got the chance to get up inside you.

Placing a chaste kiss on your temple Gojo's agile fingers had merely confirmed what he already knew: You’re utterly drenched—his needy, cute lil’ pussy was quite literally begging for him and who was he to deny her?

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

“F—Fuck! P-pussy too good. Keep the phone up though, nice and straight Bunny! T-That’s it, you’re the best! SHIIIIT— n’you got the cutest sluttiest lil cunny! C-Can you get a close up of how well my cock is digging out your pretty lil’ bunny hole?”

“Mmmgh!”

Gojo’s filthy words and his even filthier fat cock are bringing you closer to your ecstasy filled ruin as they push you past your limits, engorged veins scraping your walls with every thrust. You're covered in sweat and your entire body buzzes—quite literally as there are vibrating clamps suctioned onto each of your nipples. 

Mmmm, it all was driving you wild!

Not imagining yourself in this position when you woke up this morning at all.

Especially as initially, when Gojo said he bought toys, you thought he had meant fuzzy handcuffs, silken ropes or maybe even some more of that warm edible candle wax that tastes like strawberries—but all this!? 

You could barely see out of your bleary, tear-filled eyes completely caking your cheeks in streaks of your mascara that while supposedly waterproof, definitely is not Gojo Satoru proof. 

In addition to the mind-numbing bliss radiating off your swollen perky buds, your body was covered in some sort of edible oily slick. The warmth was initially similar to that of candle wax—yet morphed into anything but. This time the heat was coming from the flames your own body generated as the effects of the candied warming oil made every part of you saturated in the fluid buzz with need. 

Of course, after soaking your body with it down the tips of your toes and paying extra attention to your nipples, Gojo had been thoughtful enough to pour the most of the remaining bottle over your throbbing lil’ clit. 

Except now there isn’t just a shallow throb between your legs as the fiery sensation of every individual nerve in your cunt was cries out for him to ruin you harder. 

Your legs are wrapped around him impossibly tight as your heels dig into the small of his back and yet somehow, he still manages to snake a hand between your slippery bodies to pet his favorite girly spot on you—your clit. Toying with the swollen nub in a painfully slow manner compared to the intensified thrashing of his hips against your own. 

The motions only serve to push the heart-shaped platinum and pink sapphire adorned butt plug deeper into your ass with every loud vulgar smack of your wet bodies joining—the strange feeling of it jostling against the very walls his cock was drilling has you drooling as Gojo further tests the limits of passion he can push over.   

“C’mon Bunny, you're going to miss the best part, ya better capture it really well how much squirt I can pump out of this cute cunny—or we’ll simply just have to do another take. Not that I’d mind spending all day in your pussy…”

You're not in your right mind to scold him for trying to skip out on more work and you certainly don't have the full capacities to hold his phone up any better—what with your hands were tied together over your head to the bed. Gojo utilizing the fuzzy cuffs afterall.

You can’t even really see if you are getting the right angle as you desperately hold onto the device, keeping it straight and upright lest it slip and drop right on your head. 

“Always such a good girl for me huh, princess?”

Tuh—like he was giving you a choice!

You're unable to clap back though as your tongue, so lax from all the pleasure, sinks back to the roof of your mouth. The slobber gathered pools past your lips, over your chin, down your neck to your tits and Gojo is eager to slurp the train up your body and back to your lips, kissing you. 

It goes without saying, but Gojo in ‘director’ mode is absolutely diabolical. 

The reason being needs the perfect footage of him playing in your guts to make sure he had good enough material to fap to if you wanted him to spend more time away from you while he hunted down the doppel-curses.

“Be good for me a bit longer, ‘kay baby?”

Yet his gentle coos don’t match his demeanor. 

Glasses long discarded, Gojo’s own blue eyes looked crazed. He’s unconcerned with the sweat matting his hair to the sides of his face or the wave of slick your pussy splashes onto his taut abs. Abs are shuddering from just how tight of a hold your pussy has on him—working him overtime as his heavy pants soon twist into deranged lil whines.

“M-Me and my lil’ buddy missed our two girls so, so, s-sooo much—AH-HAH-F-FAHHHCK! G-Gotta show ya just how much!” 

Shamelessly, Gojo had dubbed his cock—his little buddy—the joke that would have emasculated some men but Gojo made it intentionally with the irony that he was anything but little.

“T-They were made for each other baby—lil’ buddy and the wet pretty girl between these thighs, yeah?”

The ham that he is, Gojo always sounds extra insane whenever a camera is recording, howling with amusement when he watches the playbacks. Yet in this very moment, he was as serious as a heart attack—and you definitely weren't laughing as your weeping pussy gets pounded into deeper into ecstasy filled oblivion. 

“Shhh—Stawwp, S’toruuuuu!”

Tsk, you still could form a coherent thought?  

That simply wouldn’t do for Gojo who is working so hard and bought all these new toys to see you come completely undone—and he needed you too soon as he wouldn’t last much longer in your squishy gooey core himself—not how your cunt was holding him in the wettest sluttiest lil hug. 

There's still one item left that he hadn't used yet though, that in trying to keep up his sleeve he'd nearly forgotten about entirely—his own brain quickly leaving itself on simmer by your greedy lil’ pussy sucking him in so sloppy.

Slightly changing your position for more leverage, he throws one of your legs on his shoulder slotting himself between your cushy thighs while he straddles the other leg. Fucking you sideways with increasing intensity from the bruising grip on your hips pulling your pelvis towards on him as he meets your thrusts smacking directly into your cervix.

“Heh, I know what will finish you off! Ya ready to cum baby? Squirt all on this dick you love so much, eh Bunny?—Yeah ya fuckin' will.”

When you don’t answer right away Gojo delivers a harsh slap directly on your clit, the moisture causing the increased sting to intensify sending your senses into a state of floating. Yet, bringing you back to reality, another harsh smack lands on your cunt and you jerk against your restraints, nearly dropping the phone on your face for real this time.

You don’t understand what he's saying to you but you not regardless, eyes rolling back into your head—every single pore on your skin submerged in pleasure. Completely unaware, you don’t hear the additional buzz of the final toy until you feel its silicone lips latching onto your clit while the rigid faux tongue juts back and forth across your bud.

Eyes practically leaving your skull for the second time today, everything flashes white, blinding you even with your eyes wide open. A scream so guttural it comes out silent, the ball of tension in you finally bursting as releases flushes through your entire body.

Cumming harder than you ever had before, you just let go completely, gushing around Gojo’s thick cock still pistoning in your now drenched pussy. The splash zone from your cunt is quite a bit more than usual as a giant warm wet spot begins to soil and expand underneath you both.

Ears ringing, Gojo sounds a million miles away as you hear him chattering on about something—the phone?

You wiggle your fingers, realizing you must have dropped it, but you’re still clueless about what has him so excited—until Gojo’s voice finally slices through your haze, yelling out in absolute wonderment—

“HOLY SHIT BABY, DID YOU JUST PISS ON ME??? MMM FUCK ME FOR REAL!?—SHIT! YOU WETTER THAN A WATER PARK BUNNY—SO FUCKIN NASTY! PLEASEEEEEE PLEASEEEE TELL ME YOU GOT THAT ON CAMERA!”

Suddenly, it dawned on you that when you had let go, you had quite literally let it all go. 

You could die—and if you could muster the strength to move you surely would have raced out to the backyard to quickly dig yourself a whole to do just that in. Yet that clearly would not an acceptable conclusion for your degenerate perv of a boyfriend who is acting like a sinner saved—praising pussy like a newly reborn evangelist baptized in the essence of your erotic filth. 

His elation is simple as he figures how much you really had to trust him to be able to let go and lose yourself to him to that extent—now he wants to lose himself to you as well.

Easily drowning all inside your sloshing pussy like he never swam—Gojo doesn't stop, your pissing only encourages him to fuck himself further into a pussy drunk state to rival your own cock-induced stupor.

Yet, somehow he still maintains enough control to effectively lavish praises for how naughty and shameless your lil pussy is. 

The frenzy drives him directly to his nut, eyes dilate further and slobber frothes past his lips while spearing his cock into you with renewed vigor. Whimpering and stuttering his words and hips alike.  Gojo presses your leg draped across him back against you to be sandwiched between the two of you as leans forward to further ravage your swollen kiss bitten lips again. 

Twisting you up like a pretzel and near the point of passing out from overstimulation you his insane joyous laughter sounds miles away as he topples over his peak pumping ropes of his vicious cum—that he’d been saving up for all you over the last two days—into your battered creamy core. 

Gojo’s thrusts begin to slow but he’s in your guts just as far pushing cockhead right against your cervix stealing your lips into another fiery kiss.

Once Gojo finally lets you breathe air again, you’re completely out of it, the dopey blushing smile on your face. The embarrassment from pissing all over him is completely forgotten as hearts all for him linger in your eyes.

Sex with Toru was never dull to say the very least.

“There you go, there’s my good girl, huh Bunny? Not bored anymore baby?”

Gojo smirks down at you knowingly while peppering your face with sweet loving kisses as you’re steadily drifting off, allowing every exhausted nerve to claim you.

It's still a good minute before Gojo slides out of you, seeinghis discarded phone next to you—it's still recording. A mischevous smile plays on his lips.

Wanting to capture the aftermath of his handiwork, Gojo sweeps the phone across your body, thumbing off moisture from your dewy soft skin soiled with warming oil and sweat. Making sure to linger longer on your lightly heaving chest and the sporadic quiver of your thighs.

Zooming in even closer, Gojo’s two long fingers to part your swollen lips open, admiring more of his work—his masterpiece that was the copious amounts of cum and piss dribbling out of your abused lil’ hole down to the crack of your ass. 

Now Gojo really has a dilemma—he wants to keep filming you as his cum, ever so slowly, trickles out of you. He thinks this scene would make the perfect time-lapse of the creamy sap seeping from your cunt like sugar maple. But he’s also fighting the urge to also suck all the creaminess out of you himself—the cum rimming around your puckered lower hole tempting him to Gojo start there and slurp and suck his way up your clit. 

Truly, he never gets enough of how his taste mingles with yours—and he’s quite curious to know how the additional waterworks will add to your delectable flavor. 

You were so fucking filthy and so willing to try new things all thanks to this doppel quarantine causing you to make this big a mess in the first place.

God he needed this.

More. 

He had to have more from you. 

Gojo couldn’t possibly bring this all to an end anytime soon.  Cooing against your inner thigh Gojo makes a promise to your cunt.

“Heh, don't worry pretty girl, I'ma give you six more months of quarantine at least! Can't wait to—” 

“—TORU, ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW!?!?”

Whoops.

Yeah he definitely thought you were already fast asleep—teehee.

......RESULT: PASSED 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍—𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚒𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation)

comment and reblog! next up toji, already finished posting—10/20

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

[primofate]

10 minute quick writes - Genshin Impact

In which I put on a 10 minute timer and write as much as I can. No cheating.

Mood: How he says "I love you", without saying the actual words.

Characters: Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Neuvillette, Razor, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Wriothesley, gn!reader

Warnings: Some silliness in some parts cause I'm sleep deprived.

Albedo

"It'll be cold up there, it'd be best to wear something warmer. Would you be a bother...? No, your company is much appreciated,"

Alhaitham

"...Why are you still awake...? ...A test?" sighs and closes your books "A clear mind is important too. Let's go,"

Ayato

"I did indeed have an important meeting with the guild today...but what kind of partner would I be if I missed such an important occasion of yours?"

Baizhu

"Yes I do have a lot of patients to tend to...but you're to tell me immediately if there's something off about your health, understood?"

Bennett

"You wanna go to the ruins tomorrow too...? With me...?" 3 second pause "You're the best Y/N!"

Chongyun

"I'll work hard! N-No not on my exorcisms! I meant...t-to protect-- nevermind!"

Cyno

"Yes... It's my most prized TCG card... No, it's alright, you can have it,"

Dainsleif

"There's no need to wait up for me, all that'll do is bring you unnecessary worry. I will be fine, and I'll come back. Always."

Diluc

"Is there something I can help with? You seem to be deep in thought today. Perhaps you should stay and rest for tonight,"

Gorou

"Thanks for the help Y/N! I'll come at the same time tomorrow!"

Heizou

"There's my favourite person! How's your day been? Hopefully better now that you've seen me,"

Itto

"Whaddyou wanna do today? Hmmm? What do I wanna do? Nah s'okay, you can pick today!"

Neuvillette

"In matters of work or miscellaneous events, I trust your judgement as I trust mine,"

Razor

A hug, I guess.

Scaramouche

"Seriously are you stupid? I told you not to go running off by yourself! In all circumstances. Wait.For.Me!"

Tartaglia

Melts in your arms after a long day. Seems to talk to an invisible force.

"...and here. Right here. Is where I call home. Don't take this away from me,"

Thoma

"What would you like to eat today? Any requests? I'll cook tonight,"

Wriothesley

"We haven't gone out together in a while, have we? I'll take an off tomorrow. Let's go to that cafe you've wanted to go to, hm?"

End!

I’ve published The Ruthless Prince (Reader x Scaramouche) on paperback. Click here.

Consider supporting me to read some exclusive fics:

Ko-Fi

buymeacoffee

Here’s the Masterlist

[purplealmonds]

Finished this just in time for the new trailer drop! This is my Mononoke illustration featuring assorted merch from the anime, movie, and stage play! How many can you recognize? ⚖️👹

(Yes, please send answers in the replies! Answers, progress pics, artist commentary will be drafted on a separate post when I'm less tired) ⭐️ UPDATE 04/03/24: Abridged artist commentary is now available under the cut! For the full version, please see the Google Doc linked in the replies.

👁️Overview 

Late last year, I rather belatedly discovered Mononoke’s 15th anniversary came and went, and with it, an entire swath of new content to manically pore over. This is an illustration of the various Mononoke merchandise, props, and set dressing I discovered.

---

🔎Scope

Some fun facts regarding the work that went into this illustration!

Not including research time, this project ran for roughly two months, consuming much of my waking hours outside of my full time and freelance jobs.

While the illustration does not depict all of my findings, it does feature over 120 unique props and set dressings!

The majority of the props and set dressing were modeled to varying degrees of detail in SketchUp.

To model prep, I often put together schematics on Photoshop or Illustrators. Some were created from scratch. Others were created with the liberal usage of the Photoshop transform and perspective warp function. 

The master file is 1.5GB. The dimensions are 6400x3600 at 300 dpi, and contains over 2,200 layers. 

Near the end of production, the master file became so unwieldy I created a separate working file. This way, I could create assets lag-free then import the layers into the master file. 

---

Past this point is where most of the commentary cuts were made for the sake of brevity. Again, look in the replies for the Google Doc link containing the full version with a table of contents for easier navigation!

---

🗳️3D Layout

As you can see, the backbone of this illustration is the 3D model. I spent perhaps 30-40% of my production time on this stage.

And this is the lit version. The lighting ultimately got downplayed in favor of showcasing the vibrant colors. I like how simple it looks though!

---

🎬Production-Based Set Dressing

In addition to merchandise, I wanted to insert set dressing and props from the various Mononoke productions. 

🦊Kusuriuri

It’s odd to have a section dedicated just to him, but his unique appearance warrants it. His garb and overall appearance is an amalgam of the anime and movie. The original intent was ambiguity– kind of like the blue/black vs. yellow/white dress phenomena a few years back. But after doing the color flats, I rather liked how the rich, unaltered colored fit with the overall composition so it became more blatant. I’m surprised that nobody has commented on this since I published the illustration. Maybe because I didn’t feature him in a close-up?

🐈 kai ~Ayakashi~Bake Neko (2006)

Finding props iconic to this story arc (outside of the Kusuriuri’s tools of trade, of course) was somewhat difficult. While the environment was richly decorated, it mainly consisted of 2D artwork which I wasn’t keen on retracing. I opted to paint objects that characters interacted with or featured heavily in the show.

Salt Jar

Candlestick

Rat Trap

🦋Mononoke (2007)

The props fall into three distinct categories here: Kusuriuri’s tools and trinkets; things featured in the opening and ending credits; and objects iconic to each of the five story arcs in the series. I tried to keep most of them clustered on the tatami, but as space grew scarce some props trickled up onto the deck as well.

Medicine Box

Exorcism Sword

Tenbin

Paper Talisman

Mirror

Ring

Geta Sandal

Necklace

Paper Umbrella (Zashikiwarashi)

Daruma Dolls ( Zashikiwarashi)

Gunpowder Ball (Umi Bozu)

Smoking Pipe (Nopperabou)

Genjiko Blocks (Nue)

Train Ticket (Bake Neko)

Lantern (Anime OP)

Butterflies (Anime EP)

☂️Mononoke: Karakasa (2024)

Pretty slim pickings for the new movie since I only had the teaser, first trailer, and movie poster to reference from. Kusuriuri’s tools of trade were a given, but finding memorable and narratively significant objects was a tad troublesome.

Thankfully, the set dressing ended up (however subconsciously) strikingly similar to the movie’s environment design, down to the green tatami and multicolor shoji screen. I suppose at this point I was so immersed in Mononoke content that its aesthetics subconsciously informed my design choices! 

Exorcism Sword

Tenbin

Paper Talisman

Comb

Movie Poster

Butterfly (Custom design)

---

🪭Official Merchandise

Goods related to canonical narratives and/or productions.

🎊15th Anniversary

Mononoke Shu - A light novel by Hideyui Niki & illustrated by 2964_KO

Whiskey Glass & Box

📖 Key Frame Art Books by Hashimoto Takashi

Ayakashi Key Art Frame Book (2010)

Key Frame Art Book vol.9 (2017)

📚Manga by Yaeko Ninagawa

Kai Ayakashi: Bake Neko Vol. 1-2

Kai Ayakashi: Mononoke Prequel

Mononoke Vol. 1-10

🎭Butai Mononoke

Bakeneko Pamphlet 

Zashikiwarashi Pamphlet

Zashikiwarashi Acrylic Standees

Zashikiwarashi Manegi

💿Physical Media

Official OST CD

DVD Box Set

Yokai Pattern Fabric

---

Common Collab Merchandise

This category consists of goods that are generally more affordable and feature graphics from the source material with minimal alterations.

Amnibus

Wall Scrolls

Tenugui Fabric 

Shot Glasses

Minoyaki Bean Plates

ANIGA-TER

Stickers

Can Badges

Canvas Prints

Anique

Diorama Acrylic Stand

Acrylic Blocks

Challenge Kuji

Kusuriuri & Hyper Clocks

eeo Store Online

Folding Fan

Keychains

Can Badges

gj character G

Cushion

Acrylic Charms

Neo Gate

Satchels

Mini Badges

Mini Badges by Mame Shinoda

---

High-End Collab Merchandise

Goods which derive motifs from the characters, props, and patterns from the production and transform them in an elevated manner through abstraction or usage of precious materials.

gj character G

Exorcism Sword Ring

Goodsmile

Kusuriuri Nendoroid Figurine

Folding Screen

Kusuriuri & Hyper Plush

Tote Bag

Kaya

Umbrella

Tenbin Kanzashi

Tabi Socks

Dress

Kotobukiya

Figurine

Mayla

Pump Heels

Kusuriuri & Hyper Hairpins

Tenbin Earrings

Hyper Earrings

Noitamina Apparel

Perfume

Tenbin Necklace

Folding Fan

Super Groupies

Purse

Wallet

Watch

Tsumuji Design

Exorcism Sword Necklace

Ofuda Bracelet

Useless Use Lab

Fragrance Set

Air Purifier

Three-Sided Mirror

[pumpkinpaix]

Chapter Spotlight 8:

"'Censorship Made It Better': Anti-Fans and Purity Culture in English-Language Chen Qing Ling Fandom" by Abby Springman

Describe your topic/chapter in one sentence/one meme/140 characters.

Rejoice! MDZS has been cancelled!

What drew you to this topic?

When I got into CQL fandom and started lurking on its outskirts on Twitter, I started getting this weird sense of déjà vu. There was this bizarre similarity between the arguments I was seeing about the aspects of CQL/MDZS and their fandoms being "problematic" from a progressive, social justice point of view and the demands for censorship in American libraries that conservative groups were (and still are) making at an alarmingly increasing rate. In an attempt to make sense of this, I fell down what ended up being a really long rabbit hole, and, well, here we are.

Was there anything you were surprised to discover while researching?

I was surprised by the wide variety of fannish backgrounds found amongst members of English-language CQL fandom! I'm not used to seeing so many different "areas" of fandom intersect over a single piece of media like this. Some folks are primarily into the live action movies and TV shows side of things, some are mostly in bandom, some (like me) are traditionally a part of the anime, manga, and gaming contingent, etc. I think that's fascinating, honestly.

Did researching/writing your chapter change how you saw the text, the fandom, or the media? How so?

I didn't use the block button on Tumblr or Twitter for anyone in the fandom while I was working on my chapter. It definitely changed how I saw fandom on those platforms—literally. It really highlighted how much power social media algorithms have over what kind of content is presented to us front and center.

If there’s one thing you hope the fandom takes away from your article, what would it be?

I'll be thrilled if it makes people think about "problematic" content in less black-and-white terms. They don't have to necessarily agree with my conclusions! But if my words make even one person stop and think more about context before posting a reactionary comment, then that would be great.

If you were isekai-ed into MDZS/CQL, what sect affiliation would you choose and why?

The Lan. My existing skills are most likely to be applicable there (see: the library), it seems easy to find some peace and quiet when you need it, there are bunnies, and Hanguang-jun is there.

Chaotic one-sentence pitch to get your friends into MDZS/CQL?

My elevator pitch for CQL has historically been, "It's the adaptation of a book about a gay necromancer, except they can't actually show the gay romance or the zombies on screen."

What is one (1) book/media you would recommend to a MDZS/CQL fan? Tell us about it.

Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio by Pu Songling. It's probably the most accessible collection of Chinese stories of the supernatural available in English. If MDZS/CQL was your first exposure to traditional Chinese cultural beliefs about ghosts, exorcisms, and the like, this is a great introduction to the less xianxia-specific aspects. If that isn't the case for you, I still highly recommend it on its own merits!

Character you keep getting in those "which MDZS/CQL character are you" quizzes?

Wen Ning

Anything to say to potential readers of the collection?

Thank you, and I'm sorry—no, that's a joke. More seriously, I really am thankful for anyone interested in the collection. It's the product of years of hard work by many people, and I'm sure there's an interesting chapter in there for everyone.

(FAQ) (all posts on Catching Chen Qing Ling)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Bowen McCurdy and Jordan Morris’s “Youth Group”

NEXT SATURDAY (July 20), I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

Youth Group is Bowen McCurdy and Jordan Morris's new and delightful graphic novel from Firstsecond. It's a charming tale of 1990s ennui, cringe Sunday School – and demon hunting.

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250789235/youthgroup

Kay is a bitter, cynical teenager who's doing her best to help her mother cope with an ugly divorce that has seen her dad check out on his former family. Mom is going back to church, and she talks Kay into coming along with her to attend the church youth group.

This is set in the 1990s, and the word "cringe" hasn't yet entered our lexicon as an adjective, but boy is the youth group cringe. The pastor is a guitar-strumming bearded dad who demonstrates how down he is with the kids by singing top 40 songs rewritten with evangelical lyrics (think Weird Al meets the 700 Club). Kay gamely struggles through a session and even makes a friend or two, and agrees to keep attending in deference to her mother's pleas.

But this is no ordinary youth group. Kay's ultra-boring suburban hometown is actually infested with demons who routinely possess the townspeople, and that baseline of demonic activity has suddenly gone critical, with a new wave of possessions. Suddenly, the possessed are everywhere – even Kay's shitty dad ends up with a demon inside of him.

That's when Kay discovers that the youth group and its corny pastor are also demon hunters par excellence. Their rec-rooms sport secret cubbies filled with holy weapons, and the words of exorcism come as readily to them as any embarrassing rewritten devotional pop song. Kay's discovery of this secret world convinces her that youth group isn't so bad after all, and soon she is initiated into its mysteries, including the existence of rival demon-hunting kids from the local synagogue, Catholic church, and Wiccan coven.

As the nature of the new demonic incursion becomes clearer, it falls on Kay and her pals to overcome these sectarian divisions over the protests of their guitar-strumming, magic-wielding leader. That takes on a special urgency when Kay learns why the demons are interested in her, personally, and a handful of other kids in town who all share a secret trait.

I confess that as someone who lived through the 1990s as a young man, there is something disorienting about experiencing the decade of my young adulthood through the kind of retro lens I associate with the 1950s or 1960s. But while the experience is disorienting, it's not unpleasant. McCurdy's artwork and Morris's snappy dialog conjure up that bygone decade in a way that is simultaneously affectionate and critical, exposing the hollowness of its performative ennui and the brave face that performance represented even as the world was being swept up in corporate gigantism.

McCurdy and Morris are really onto something here, implicitly asking us why the 1990s gave us Buffy and Sabrina (and The Coven, etc etc) – what was it about that decade in which Reaganomics and globalism consolidated the gains of the 1980s, where the climate emergency took on its undeniable urgency, where media monopolies mastered the art of commodifying counterculture faster than it could mutate into new forms?

Morris's writing really shines here. If you enjoyed Bubble, his earlier outing based on the post-apocalyptic comedy podcast of the same name, you will love this one:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/21/podcasting-as-a-visual-medium/#huntr

Morris is also half of Jordan, Jesse Go!, the long-running podcast where he and Jesse Thorn do a weekly ha-ha-only-serious goofball schtick that never fails to smuggle in really clever and insightful ideas amidst the poop jokes.

https://maximumfun.org/podcasts/jordan-jesse-go/

John Hodgman calls nostalgia a "toxic impulse." Church Group deftly avoids nostalgia's trap, managing to be a period piece without falling prey to the Happy Days pathology of ignoring the many flaws and problems of its era. And of course, it's a hoot and a blast.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/16/blight/#the-dream-of-the-nineties

[pmpmyread]

Nanami Kento & Laughter

Content Warnings: MDNI/18+, fluff with a hint of smut. Summary: Some laughter HCs with Nanami, because God knows he deserves it. Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader Word count: 1.4k

From the moment you first shared a laugh with Nanami Kento, you knew you’d want to do it over and over again.

As a newly graduated Grade 1 sorcerer, you’d hoped your first day would carry at least some of the novelty that the promotion promised. Instead, here you were, leaning against the back wall of a packed Jujutsu High classroom, enduring yet another staff briefing that had dragged on for far too long.

In response to yet another tangent taken by the visibly disorganized support staff member who was presenting, you’d been unable to contain the off-hand comment that slipped from you, in the form of a dry joke muttered under your breath, one you had not expected anyone to hear until you heard a low, barely noticeable chuckle emanating from the sorcerer posted beside you.

You tilted your head up towards the source of the sound, your eyes landing on signature green lenses that did little to conceal the hint of a smile that lingered in the usually stern eyes they covered, even after it had faded from Nanami’s lips. You tried to mask your embarrassment at the idea of being caught by returning a timid smile in a quiet moment of shared intimacy before turning back to face the speaker.

Your attention never fully returned to the meeting.

You grew closer to Nanami, thanks partly to the proximity granted by your new rank but largely to a shared appreciation for quick wit, such as the clever clapback he’d flatly directed at Gojo in response to one of his typical bothersome antics in the break room one afternoon. Between Gojo’s protests and your burst of laughter in response, you’d almost missed the brief, self-satisfied expression that adorned Nanami’s handsome face.

Over time, wherever the two of you found yourselves together became your shared stage.  As you each became acquainted with what made you tick, you found yourselves playfully trading the quips that were forming the alphabet for this new language you were carefully developing together.

Even more than the much-needed levity brought on by these interactions, the rare glimpses into Nanami’s rich, deep chuckles quickly became ones you’d grown to live for.

Nanami is funny when he tries to be and even funnier when he doesn’t. While his candor and frankness are attributes you both admire and love about him, they’ve also made for some hilarious moments.

You’d handled a particularly messy exorcism together one day, consisting of a Grade 1 curse that punched far above its weight and that had tested the limits of both your abilities combined, resulting in a victory that was too narrow for comfort. You caught your breaths for a moment, after which the first thing Nanami did when he finally turned to you with a most serious look on his face, was to express how inconvenient it would be to have to make the trek to two towns over to reach the only dry cleaner who would be able to remove the kind of stain left by the curse on his signature suit.

You’d initially shot him an incredulous look in response, as you processed his surreal fixation on the least of many problems, borne out of none other than his acute sense of practicality, before bursting into a fit of giggles, a display that had you still holding your stomach in laughter days later.

The close bond you’d developed eventually spilled outside the boundaries of the workplace, venturing into the uncharted waters that lie beyond friendship.

Just as you and Nanami parted after being joined in a tender first kiss, a sudden feeling of inadequacy, a monster as internal as it was intrusive, reared its ugly head in the form of nervous laughter that uncontrollably spilled from you.

You lowered your head, eyes fixing the small gap on the ground that separated you two, frustrated both at your mind for ruining an otherwise perfect moment and embarrassed at your body’s unchecked reaction, averting what you’d assumed would be a confused gaze from Nanami, until you heard him mirror you with a light chuckle.

He gently tilted your chin up, and your eyes locked onto an expression, not unlike the one you’d exchanged in the back of that classroom on that fateful day, a reassuring one that said “I get you”. He pulled you back into a gentle embrace, as your eyes tore up and your insecurities began to fade, and it dawned upon you that you were exactly where you belonged.

It was only once you’d gotten together, now joined as partners in both banter and life, that you were introduced to just how truly expansive Kento’s repertoire of repartee was.

As you tested your mind against this untethered version of Nanami, you proved to be a worthy opponent but soon found that even your full professional level of proficiency in banter did not completely match his surprisingly more native level, a slight disparity he exploited only responsibly, as a means to maintain the playful tone of your verbal sparring, which always ensued in hilarity from both your parts, even in its more impassioned moments.

This tacit control he held, illustrative of the healthy polarity that so beautifully ruled your dynamic, made him even more attractive than he already was to you.

The burgeoning excitement stemming from the chain of events that was your elopement, honeymoon, and subsequent holiday at the best beachfront property available in Kuantan had culminated in an untameable spark of passion between you two, which only compounded the effect that the sweet sound of your laughter had had on Nanami who, unbeknownst to you, had been set off like a man possessed.

You were lying beneath Kento, as you came down from your second peak of the evening, blissful giggles muffled by your cupped palms covering your face, not knowing what to otherwise do with yourself in your overstimulated state.

In one swift movement, he used one of his hands to gently remove your hands from your face before firmly pinning them by the bed frame above your head as he leaned down to your face, his slightly parted lips ghosting over yours as though to capture the sweet melody of your now diminishing laughter.

By the time you perceived the greedy glint in his eyes, it was already too late; in an inaugural act that would later settle as a habit on countless future occasions, he used his free hand to tickle you, starting at the base of your neck, letting out a mischievous chuckle of his own as he hit all of the sensitive parts of your bare skin along the way.

You squirmed beneath him, completely at his mercy, crying out in bouts of hysterical laughter that only served to reinvigorate him, his fingers unrelenting in their onslaught as he continued working his way down, inching closer to his intended destination, endeavoring to draw much more than just some laughs out of you, as you gradually went from imploring him to stop to begging him not to.

Nanami’s laughs usually came in the form of low chuckles, amused snickers, and a signature light rumble of his chest, all rarely exceeding a temperate volume. When they exceptionally did, it was a sight nothing short of delightful.

One morning, shortly after breakfast, you were reading off a passage from a Japanese book you were showing him, as you often did, in your efforts to learn the language. You stumbled upon a word that you unknowingly mispronounced, eliciting a chuckle from Kento who asked you to repeat it, and who laughed again as you did, a little louder than usual, this time. Your mock offense turned into amusement as you observed him struggling to maintain that tightly held control of his.

You repeated the word over and over again, now fully determined in your quest to bring him to his undoing, and it wasn’t long until he was bent over, apologizing to you in between fits of unusually raucous laughter and you joyfully saw him as never before.

His laugh grew contagious, and soon enough you joined him, getting so carried away that you inadvertently let out a small audible snort before covering your mouth in horror, after which you you both decidedly lost control, a genuine roar emanating from his chest as you enjoyed an unexpected moment of euphoria.

Rare as those more intense moments were, they did not take away from the fact that every single instance of your playful ribbing that resulted in the scrunching of his nose, the crinkling of his solemn eyes, and the signature twist of the left corner of his mouth as he grinned, that every moment of good-natured teasing that triggered that familiar warm bubbling feeling of exuberance that rose within you served as lovely daily reminders of the foundational impact of laughter on your beautiful relationship.

Thanks for reading! 🩵

[gremlingottoosilly]

The art of hospitality (Nanami Kento x fem!Reader)

Life wasn't that good after you dropped out of college. Luckily, a friend of a friend of a relative was willing to take you to live with him so you could watch over his weirdly big house while he was away on endless work trips. Nanami never thought that investment in the kindness of his heart would pay out like this. He is not complaining.

Tags and CW: Yandere, mild dub-con, non-consensual masturbation, Nanami is a panty stealer, light age difference, power imbalance, housewife kink AO3

Some people are just not built to fend for themselves. Nanami can name a few, even though the sentiment leaves a bitter, bun-haired taste in his mouth. He shouldn’t think like this – like him – but it’s as impossible as not thinking about a panda bear after you just been prompted with hot imagining one. 

He can only repeat that he isn’t like this. It isn’t like him. Some people are just not built to fend for themselves, so people like Nanami are doing everything in their power to protect them. Weak are ruling the society and this is exactly how it is supposed to be. Strong should be content with not having any gratitude, happy that they were able to help. This is exactly how it’s supposed to be, and yet… — Thank you so much for letting me stay here, Nanami-san. With the lease and everything coming up, I just… His cheeks aren’t dusted red because this won’t be a normal answer to the situation. He isn’t blushing because he is somewhat not used to receiving a little thank you from a nice girl next door that he allowed to live with him and watch over the house while he is away on the missions(dumb, dumb girl got kicked out of the apartment after a failed lease renewal and found him through a friend of a relative). He knows how grateful you are – not having many things or a lot of money saved, you probably would have moved back to the countryside if it weren’t for him. For a girl like you, it would be kissing your dreams goodbye. Not like sleeping on his couch is any better for someone your age. There is curry on the kitchen island. He recognises the packaging – generic brand from the convenience store he sometimes walked passed during missions in Asakusa. Hm. Last time he touched your cooking(four days before, when he actually managed to drag himself to the house without losing too much sweat) it was made from scratch. He isn’t complaining because he still wasn’t the one to cook it. Asking a girl in dire circumstances to play housewife would be… You don’t pay rent, you get half of the groceries from him(ever-lasting meal planning for everything, even when half of it gets thrown away after a nasty curse hunt is leaves him on the other side of the prefecture for few days in the row) and you don’t sleep on the couch. He has a perfectly comfortable guest bedroom with fresh sheets for you. 

Maybe, you could play housewife a little bit. It’s so stupid for someone in his position, but the packaging of a store-made curry almost made him question the decision to help you in the first place. He didn’t…didn’t expect you to cook for him, of course. He only took you in because being a young adult is tough and not having any friends in a city as expensive as Tokyo can crush a girl like you. He doesn’t know what is this feeling blooming in his chest. Maybe, the remains of the last exorcism are still clinging to him. — You found a job? You tilt your head, your (adorable) lips in a surprised impression. You probably never thought he’d give someone like you this much of his mind – not with how little you talked before. He might come off as too harsh – but he still looks you in the eyes, his gaze only softens because of the glasses he still insists on wearing even inside the house. Nanami promised to himself to not bring work home – but it’s hard to even determine what is home anymore. Maybe it’s a space on the couch, right next to your sprawled legs. Maybe it’s his bedroom. Maybe it’s… — Yes! It’s a convenience store, so it’s part-time, but… He frowns. You close your mouth immediately, lips pursed. Nanami doesn’t want to intimidate you – it’s just six thirty, already too late to be in a serious work mood – but it’s hard when you look simply divine with that scared impression of yours. He shouldn’t bully non-sorcerers, but some people are making it hard. Impossible. He almost understands Satoru. — This is all? — Well, they allowed me to pick more shifts, so I could actually start paying rent. N…not all, but just to thank you for letting me stay with you. You’re kind, he must give you that. Most people in your situation would already make him feel like overstaying their welcome, breaking the simple comfort he found in living on his own, and deflecting his family’s worries about not having anyone to settle down with. He isn’t thirty yet, he shouldn’t worry about it – yet, the thought itches at the back of his mind, Empty house. Most of his older coworkers were itching to ditch overtime because they wanted to meet with their families. He did it because after fighting curses(and returning to doing so) normal human life isn’t something he’d give much thought to.

— You don’t have to pay. I thought we established that. — I have to start somewhere, right? M…maybe I could save up and get a proper apartment. Still, Kento doesn’t like the idea that he might come home one day and won’t find you sitting on the couch and watching TV. Not because you just went out for a quick girl walk, or decided to go shopping – but because you got a big job, a normal job, and you won’t rely on his kindness anymore. 

Some people aren’t made to fend for themselves. Nanami wonders what would you look like if you ever saw a curse. If you were affected by at least one. He…he shouldn’t think like this. You’re lucky that you’re normal. — Paying for three months' rent, the key, and the debt would be impossible with a part-time store job. — I could live with a roommate! Or three… — What difference would it make for our current situation? He puts a hand on the back of the couch. Mere inches from your head – and he can see the surprised expression on your face only getting…more surprised. You are cute for a dropout – ahe he certainly doesn’t mind having you sleeping here. Taking care of the house for him. If he only knew that you also weren’t fully against the proper commitment to this place. Like that little job of yours has any value in terms of experience and…

— I don’t want to intrude too much, Nanami-san. I’ll just get out of your hair as soon as possible, yeah? He would love for you to get into his hair, come to think about it. He had some terrible headaches lately – maybe it’s the job taking its toll again, maybe it’s a lingering curse that he is too exhausted to notice. He doesn’t sense anything besides the overwhelming need for you to come around – and yet he knows he can’t expect you to do that. — I can pay you. 

— What? He wonders if the surprise on your face is going to be embedded in your features forever. He wonders what expression would you have if he’d proposed something more provocative. With something that would leave you panting and gasping and gaping. He shook his head. Too early for this – and too late, also. He already loosened his tie and it made the headache less permanent, but if he’d proceeded to imagine how your pathetic, useless (normal, college dropout) mouth wide around the base of his cock, he would have to excuse himself from the house altogether, Preferably moving back to the countryside you tried to run away from. — If you insist on working…there instead of taking time to actually improve yourself, I could pay you to watch over the house. You gulp, tensing up immediately. He must have come off too strong – but he is way too tired to control his tone, and you should be mature enough to handle the conversations like this. He wasn’t kicking you off – quite the contrary, in fact. But, young adults should take the time to be young. But, young adults should be serious enough to behave like adults – and you shouldn’t bury your ambitions while living with four roommates and their boyfriends and college and drinking and… Sometimes he forgets how not much older he is than you. Maybe this is why you’re so hesitant towards getting help from him – someone that you could imagine in the position of a boyfriend instead of a providing and caring figure. That’s bad, really. Nanami would like for you to see him as your husband. — I couldn’t accept it, Nanami-san. You’re already…already doing so much. “Too much” he can get from your frowned expression. Too much of a lonely man with a big house and no one to watch over it. Too much for a man who doesn’t acept any form of payment from you – a man who didn’t even insist on having you cook and clean, since he got a system that would be too much bother to teach someone other than him. System that you cracked in first few weeks, almost making him believe that the salryman dream he lost after returning to Jujutsu Tech, can be still obtained. Still within the reach of his fingers. 

The woman of his dreams – if a man like him allowed to have them – is sitting on his couch and gushes over paying him for letting her stay. Like he isn’t the one who should beg for her to not run away. Alas, even dream girls can be a bit…dumb. Stupid. Pathetic in a way that would be insane to anyone else. 

Nanami is ought to be a bit more firm with his dumb girl that still thinks she isn’t his. — I would appreciate you cooking way more than any money I’d have to take out of your savings. — But… — You shouldn’t rush into jobs just because you think I would throw you out. I won’t. — It’s…funny. In a way. 

— What is so funny? His hand creeps over the edge of your seat, edging on taking a handful of your hair and tugging. Not because he wanted to hurt you – but because setting you in place would be the desirable option right now. Your inability to believe in the kindness of his heart is almost adorable, if it weren’t also so frustrating. It’s a smart choice, although – would be insane to ask you to believe that a man who took you in did so out of the kindness of his heart. But, Kento doesn’t want for you to be smart and make choices that would benefit you. But, Kento wants for you to rely on him – and making smart choices isn’t going to include that. He could just force you, your weak points already accessed – he knows where to push, where to cut, where to ass a little pressure, so you’d stop being so stubborn. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but sometimes you need to crack a few eggs in the process. Sometimes being good doesn’t mean being nice. — I thought you really wanted to get rid of me at first, Nanami-san. He has been stealing your panties since you first stepped foot into his house. It was a mistake at first – neither you nor him knew how to live with someone so close after reaching adulthood and moving out of dorms where the social boundaries are much, much less permanent. You were silly and forgetful, sometimes mixing your laundry with his. Something as small as a pair of panties, no matter clean or not, were prone to get lost in the laundry area, forgotten in a pile of clothes you already washed – and if Nanami was a lesser man, he would have scolded you for not having the basic courtesy of keeping your things away from his. If Nanami was a bigger man he wouldn’t have slipped a lacey pair into a pocket of his pants, fidgeting on the fabric while you gushed over having to buy so many necessities all of a sudden, or apologized for wrecking havoc in his bathroom. Even now, when you’re embarrassed and warm, trying to explain your point of view to him, he is still playing with your underwear, buried deep within the pocket of his work clothes. He luckily didn’t run into Satoru today – he doesn’t really want to know if his Six Eyes could detect something as scandalous. Not in a normal sense, of course – you’re an adult, if a bit irresponsible – but in the form of him having connections. Someone to return to. 

Nanami wants to push you on your knees and take his rent right out of that surprised, open mouth of yours. You don’t wear any makeup, you’re at home, after all – but he would buy you some adorable lipstick, some sweet lipgloss, just so you could smear it all over his cock, choking and drooling. He wants to be a good man, a patient man, but he has your panties in his pocket already, and it’s always a fresh pair every few weeks – not enough to make you suspicious that this isn’t the washing machine eating it, but also desperately low for someone like him. 

He wonders if you would be even softer than the tender silk of the things you wear. — Why would you think I accepted you, then? 

He knows why you might be nervous – his attitude isn’t the most welcoming one. He can be soft if he has a reason you – but being soft for too long will make you spoiled. Bratty. He likes women with character, but not women with attitudes he can’t control. Even your sitting position, with both of your legs on a couch, is something he could change with a few spanks on the bare skin he can clearly see from under your shorts. Wearing this when there is a man in the house – how scandalous. How precious. He wonders if all the lingerie sets he already bought for you (getting exact sizes is quite easy when he already knows your proportions divided by 7), will be a nice look on you. For you. 

— Maybe it was your one good deed for the month, but then you’d get annoyed and… He touches you – for the first time in weeks. Maybe the first time since he shook your hand all those time ago. The first time he touched you while you weren’t sleeping, at least. Fully conscious, aware of the man in front of you. (Nanami liked to watch you sleep, sometimes. Stressed people have a bad habit of attracting curses, and he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t invite anything in the safety of his house. It’s what he keeps telling himself when he inevitably ended up at the food of your bed, hands on his cock, stroking it slowly, knowing a dumb girl – naive girl – won’t wake up even if he’d decide to finish on your face. He never would – not until you’d ask him to, at least. He hopes that he will be a good person even after you do) Nanami’s hand is on your cheek, holding you softly. Gently. You’re surprised because this is the first time he touched you so softly – so intimately. You’re blissfully unaware of the fact he was touching you so, so much already. Stroking your ass, your tits, your face when he felt particularly tender – when he knew you were too tired of whatever you were doing while being unemployed and having everything catered to you to notice that he is touching you. — I won’t get annoyed with you. 

You press your face against his hand, taking in his touch. He has soft hands – cared for, manicured carefully. He takes care of his appearance and you’re embarrassed to appreciate that about it. To even notice – he isn’t yours, probably doesn’t want to be, but he allows you to live in his house even though you suck at being a proper housewife, and it should mean something. It does mean something – you smile and close your eyes. You want to do something for him because he already did so much for you. The possibilities are making your ears burn. — How can I repay you if you don’t want rent then? He can think of a few ways. The possibilities will make your ears burn. — You can start by actually cooking. 

And he will call in to fire you later. 

[luvrodite]

candles

gn!reader, jason's pov, kind of introspective ?? not so much a fluff fic as it is a stream of consciousness (is that even the right phrase?)

the smell of candle wax reaches his nose, burning, acrid. the flame burns bright spots into his vision, bleeding gaps of yellow and orange that glimmer in the dark when he blinks. jason todd, a year older, unsure as to how much wiser, sits at a table in front of a birthday cake and wonders how he got here.

he thinks about your hands. about the curve of your palms, fingers folding over the plate as you'd carried the dessert. your smile, shaky, unbidden love in the corners of your mouth. adoration had pressed into his shoulders, warmth bleeding from your touch.

make a wish, baby.

it used to be that when he was younger – another lifetime ago entirely, before the fire, before ethiopia, before bruce – he'd play this game. to count all that he longed for. money, mostly. money, money, money. at the centre of it all, green dollar bills. what couldn't you do if you had it? money, so he and mom didn't have to go without, money, so he could take care of her.

he looks up at you, milky eyed, feels the scar on his cheek jump as the muscle twitches.

sweeter than sin, honey soaked, you smile. head tilting, liquid moonlight bottled in your eyes. a wish, he thinks. old aches, a new body, the grief of estrangement, all briefly forgotten – he stares at you, and thinks. a wish.

time passes strangely after the pit. murky, sluggish. it could have been an eternity that he spends, tracing your features in the candlelight, light bleached spots in his vision flickering over your face like burnt film. each breath feels distant to him, air passing faintly through his lungs.

a wish, a wish, a wish.

it seems a foolish thought. all that he so desperately desires, he cannot have. money, he has plenty, but it is worthless in the face of his longing, hard as it is to conceive. what he wants cannot be bought.

he blinks, lids heavy, lashes brushing against his skin. that all familiar buzz in his head, again, the one that threatens to unstitch him inside out, cleave him in half.

– your hands. warm, soft heat, bleeding through the fabric of his shirt.

all is quiet, once more. he moves, stiff limbs breaking an invisible cast to loop around your waist. the weight of you atop his thigh, the startled sound you try to muffle, it lends him a bit of strength. the edges of him feel more solid, and he heaves a breath. a quiet exorcism, an expulsion of the remaining traces of ichor in his lungs.

he blows out the candles.

dunno what this is. thoughts about jason and his birthday, thoughts about love, thoughts about resurrection and rebirth – forced from eternal slumber, the choice to live.

happy birthday jason todd, i love you so dearly.

[mechahero]

//The demons when some weird guy charges out of the bushes and mauls one of their colleagues to death in front of them:

//Everything's fine for demons that run amuck looking to take over Earth until they bump into the guy that would gladly tear them apart with his teeth and hands.

[tsukimefuku]

old regrets and guilt ridden pasts ꕥ higuruma hiromi

this part → part 2 → part 3 (soon) | mdni!

summary: you and hiromi are sent out on a mission to exorcize a strong curse at an abandoned hospital. as hiromi has to use his domain to strip you from your cursed technique, things start to go downhill.

tags: +18!, starts out with an explicit! sex scene, some smut, f!reader, established relationship higuruma x reader, reader is kind of emotionally stunted, mentions of death, grief, yuuji and nanami make an appearance, implied past nanami x reader, overall angst, fluff, hurt + comfort.

wc: 3.9k

notes etc.: heavy spoilers for "sand and snow" readers. written to the sound of nothing in my way (keane). as always, i write flawed characters that can (and will) sometimes be assholes.

ꕥ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

The day had been pleasant. You and Hiromi shared a lazy Sunday with no missions or jujutsu sorcery whatsoever, watched a few movies on TV, talked and spent time together. He tried teaching you principles of criminal law, but you understood virtually nothing.

After a few glasses of wine, though, your hand wound up on his thighs, his lips on your neck, and well, here you were.

You were splayed in front of him, propping up your body with your arms, and his abdomen was pressed sweaty against your back, as he rolled himself into you. Hiromi had one hand on your thigh, and the other supported him over your trembling body.

"Ah, Hiro-" you gasped, in between mewls and moans, turning your chin over your shoulder, just so you could ask him to move, making it easier for you to come undone over him.

He huffed, warm, humid breath pressed against the hair in the back of your neck, as he answered with a husky voice, "yes, my love?"

He had called you that once or twice before, but this time, it swirled and tangled itself around you like divine rope, drowning you in molasses. The request you had lingering went straight to the back of your mind, as you moaned to the sound of his gravely, breathless voice calling you 'my love'.

"Call me that again," you pleaded, whimpering, while you felt him brushing against the deepest parts of you.

"Ah, my love..." Hiromi repeated, an audible smile while he spoke, nuzzling his gorgeous hooked nose behind your neck as he planted wet kisses wherever his lips passed. "My love, my love, my love…" His mouth traveled to the back of your shoulder, and you lifted your head to moan his name, shivers prickling on the roots of every hair in your body.

He kept cooing my love against you until his speech became nothing but incoherent mumbling against your bare, sensitive skin.

Before you noticed, his hand, previously on your thigh, descended to rub you as he approached his own release, and upon the pressure from his digits on you, already sensitive by then, you let out a strained moan of his name. 

Hiromi came with a watery groan, having you tip over the edge some time after, letting out a last cry for him.

As you were navigating your euphoric ecstasy, trying to keep the comedown at bay for a few moments longer, both falling to the side with him pulling your body closer, you felt him whispering against your locks.

Even though you couldn't be sure about it, you thought you heard Hiromi say I love you.

***

"I have to go," he said, playfully trying to untangle your arms from his waist, kissing your cheek with the sultry smell of fresh black coffee breath. You were both in your balcony, the breakfast plates empty over the only chair you had, and you giggled and kissed his jawline insistently.

"Why do you have to go?" You asked, parting slightly to look at Hiromi. As he looked back at you, you formed a pout with your lower lip, and he smiled, planting a quick kiss on your mouth.

"Because I have to water the sunflower you gave me," he replied, lovingly.

"Why don’t you just bring your sunflower here? You basically sleep here the entire week now. You should bring some clothes too, and other things you might need" you replied, liberating his waist from your tight grip on his body, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

Then you realized what that sounded like.

He also did.

"Are you... Asking me to move in with you?" He questioned, and you instantly blushed, red wash covering your cheeks.

"I... Just bring the sunflower already. I-" you stuttered, "just don't want you to leave every single morning to take care of it and change into clean clothes."

Hiromi put both of his hands on your shoulders and smiled fondly. "I will, I promise," he answered, as he kissed your forehead with a feathery touch. You smiled at him, and let your arms down, aligning his tie with the tips of your fingers. At that, he sighed contently.

It was then that you remembered what you thought you heard last night.

"Hey, Hiromi..." you began.

"Yes, my love?" He replied, sugary tone as he brought one of his hands up to caress your cheek.

You quivered to the sound of that, just like you did the night before.

"Yesterday, after we..." you cleared your throat, feeling a faint sense of trepidation creeping over you, "did you whisper or say anything? I mean, I thought I heard something."

He widened his eyes a little, and you could swear his face had become a light peachy pink. You kept silent, waiting for an answer, and his mouth opened, without a sound coming from it, as he blinked mindlessly thinking of anything to say.

Words failed him, hard.

Then, your phone rang.

You cursed internally at the interruption, sighing deeply.

Grasping at it with the tips of your fingers, you pulled the thing out of your pocket, seeing Gojo's name lit up on the screen. 

Pressing the green icon, you said, "yes, Satoru? I was kind of in the middle of something."

"Hey!" His whimsical voice echoed through your ear. "So, we have a mission for you and Higuruma, and I'd like to ask for you to take Yuuji along."

"Oh, okay, no problem. What is it?"

"There's apparently a Grade 1 curse in a closed-down hospital, just by the outskirts of Tokyo. You or Higuruma alone would suffice, but I want Yuuji to train coordinating himself with other sorcerers in the field, so the more, the merrier! Also, you are both great at it, so he might actually learn a thing or two." 

You smiled, noticing how this enthusiasm wasn't purely a facade. Gojo had been slowly — but surely — been chipping away at his frivolous-smile persona, and it became evident in how he sounded genuinely thrilled when talking about his students.

"Okay! I'll be delighted to have him tagging along."

"Alright, then!"

You hung up, and darted your eyes to Higuruma, that seemed curious about your call.

"We have a mission together. Just let me get ready" you stated, and he hoped for a second that you had forgotten the question you made moments before the phone rang.

You hadn't.

***

"Nitta, we'll be right back! Please, take care. This area seems kind of shady" you said, as you, Higuruma and Yuuji stepped outside the car. 

The blonde woman turned her head to smile at you, giving you a thumbs up. "No worries. Also, I'm bringing the veil down right after you go inside. Even if we're a little far from the huzz buzz of Tokyo, it's better to be safe than sorry."

You nodded. "Great. Thank you, Nitta."

After closing the doors, the three of you began walking towards the hospital. It was a considerably big structure, and seemed to be closed off for at least a few years, with the unforgiving weather weaving black cracks of mold across the sleeping giant’s facade.

"So, are you excited?" You asked, turning your head to look at Yuuji. He looked back at you, big puppy eyes flickering with anticipation.

"Yes!" He chirped, opening a wide smile. "I really want to see you and Mr. Higuruma fighting together on the field, I heard you two are mad strong working together."

Barely before Hiromi began taking missions on his own, and after working together for some time, you both became something of a legendary duo for having exorcized a particularly strong special grade curse side by side in a sequence of black flashes — you both had dealt three black flashes each.

Hiromi silently smiled, gazing at you, and after noticing it, you couldn't help but blush a little bit. You shook your head softly, and breathed deeply to ease yourself back into professional mode.

"So, Yuuji-kun," you began, enunciating every syllable separately.

"Yes, sensei?" He replied, imitating your cadence.

"Let's have a quick run through on cursed spirits again, shall we?"

"Okay!"

"So, why do you think a strong cursed spirit manifested here, inside a closed off hospital?" You quizzed.

"Because cursed spirits manifest due to negative emotions, and places like hospitals, cemeteries and such pool a lot of those" He answered.

"Good! But this hospital has been closed off for a while, so what do you think could've happened for a cursed spirit to manifest here currently?"

"There are two options. First, it took some time for the negative energy to concentrate enough for it to appear," he began, "and the second is that this spirit had already been exorcized, but after a while, it respawned."

"Yes, yes, good," you answered, nodding, trying to keep a straight face to mask the proud feeling. "But there is a third option!"

"Oh, is there?" He inquired, whipping his head in your direction.

"Yes! If this is an almost special grade curse, like some we all have faced in the past, then it could've spawned elsewhere and come here out of its own volition" you completed, finger extended up beside your face to make your point.

"Oh, true!" He replied.

"So, which one do you both think it is?" Hiromi asked, as he mindlessly swirled his gavel around his fingers, the crunch of leaves and dirt under your feet filling the air.

As the three of you entered what you liked to call the invisible cloud, the point where the energy emanated by the cursed spirit around its area seemed to hit like a whiff of strong air, similar to the forming winds of a tornado, you sighed, putting your hands in your pockets. 

"It's strong, but not that strong. I'd place my bets on the first or second options."

***

"There is no time to argue, Hiromi, I need to go in there with Yuuji and I need you to use your domain on me!"

The curse had its own kind of veil, from what you all could tell, and the only people allowed inside were those who apparently had no innate cursed technique. Yuuji easily peered his hand inside its realm, and so did Nitta, apart from her protests of being used as a lab rat. 

"Judgeman can pick any random crime to judge, I have no say in that" he hesitantly answered. "It can be a serious offense, worthy of the death penalty. I'd just like to avoid that happening" he concluded, voice simmering with hesitancy hitting the back of his throat.

"I'm not a contumacious criminal, and you can go easy on me when it's your time to speak. Come on. We can do this!" You tried reassuring him, one hand planted to each of his shoulders. "I can't let Yuuji go in there alone, I'm responsible for him. He's my student, and a teenager."

"You sound just like Nanamin" Yuuji complained more to himself than anyone else, crossing his arms on his chest, still mumbling. I'm not a kid.

"Hiromi, please."

He sighed deeply before nodding.

"Itadori, I'll need you to step behind."

The boy acquiesced and distanced himself, as the other sorcerer stepped his way into your direction and expanded his domain, drawing you in.

No matter how many times you got pulled into other sorcerer's domains, going in was always a jarring and disorienting experience, overall. 

In a few short moments, you and Hiromi were standing facing each other, and you sighed deeply at the sight of that shikigami, remembering that the last time you saw it, the thing gave you one hell of a headache.

Or better, it and Hiromi did, when he was still a curse user.

"Fine, let's go on with this" you stated, getting ready to hear yet another possible (or not) misdemeanor or unknown crime you might've committed.

But you weren't ready for the words that left the shikigami's mouth.

"February 24th, 2008."

That date.

"Odate City, Akita Prefecture."

Oh, no.

Your eyes widened in panic, and Hiromi saw it.

You could visualize his lips moving, he was talking to you. Perhaps asking if you were alright. 

However, you heard nothing.

"You stand accused of homicide against-"

You didn't need to hear the rest.

"I confess. I killed him."

Whatever Hiromi was speaking suddenly drowned in his chest. You looked at him, and he tried futilely holding your faltering gaze to ask you what the hell was going on, shocked eyes wide open, but you just crawled your way back inside your head, desperately wishing for this fucking day to be immediately over.

"Confiscation! Death penalty!" The creature shouted, before dissipating away.

That little shit.

And then… It all happened in a split second.

Hiromi saw the Executioner's Sword in his hand. Yuuji began asking what the hell is going on under bated, preoccupied and terrified breath. You nearly lost your balance before coming back to your senses.

Hiromi immediately dispelled his technique, feeling equal parts mortified and disgusted to be holding that against you.

"Why did you-" the former lawyer began, extending his hand your way.

You flinched away, eyes glued to the ground.

"Not now. I have to go in with Yuuji and finish exorcizing this curse."

"My lo… Please" Hiromi pleaded, before exhaling slowly. "Be careful."

"I will."

***

Hiromi sat beside you, as Yuuji looked worried from afar, since you were never one to be so unbearably quiet and aloof.

The sorcerer knew you were finding it incredibly hard to speak right now, and when everyone got back to Jujutsu High, all you did was sit at the base of the stairs, not uttering a single sound, and not following them when they began walking upstairs. 

Hiromi stayed quiet, gazing at you, and held your hand to see if you'd react.

You didn't move, frozen in your spot, feelings hurricaning inside you like a blizzard. You feared that, if you moved, even a single inch, you'd come crumbling down.

"My love, please, talk to me."

You couldn't do anything other than shake your head.

You just couldn't.

Hell, breathing was barely manageable under the broken dam of painful memories flooding your mind all at once. 

Hiromi sighed, ever so patient, aware of what he had to do. He didn't particularly appreciate the idea, but it was his only option then.

"Tell me the truth" he began, "is it me that you need by your side right now?" Hiromi asked, earnestly.

Your lips trembled for a moment, your jaw clenched, and you searched for the strength to find your voice again. When you did, you felt horrible for what you knew you were about to say, but you chose to honor your promise to Hiromi — always tell him the truth, even when it hurt.

Truth is, you had never told him about your brother and all that happened at Odate, and right now, you knew you couldn't muster up the strength to explain it all to him. It would be necessary to make Hiromi understand the depths of the emotional struggles that had been at stake ever since his shikigami bestowed upon you the death penalty.

Only one person could talk you through this.

"No, it’s not."

He resigned, feeling the words piercing him like needles. The sorcerer was aware that he had to talk to you about it, but decided to do it at a later time.

At that very moment, he knew what you needed to talk about, and Nanami was the only person you'd speak to.

Hiromi got on his feet and walked towards Yuuji.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" The boy asked, genuinely concerned.

"Itadori, can you please call Nanami? Tell him it's important, that it's about her, and ask him to come" Hiromi stated.

Yuuji nodded and pulled his phone, immediately starting to dial.

After the call, Hiromi asked if you wanted to be alone, to which you nodded. He and Yuuji walked upstairs as you waited — for Nanami or for this feeling to go away, whatever happened first.

Some time passed before a car stopped in front of you. 

As Nanami got out of it, he looked at you, and you had a completely defeated look on your face as you were still sitting on the same spot ever since you got there an hour prior.

He closed the door behind him and made his way towards you, steady stride taking him to meet you at the steps, as he, himself, descended, sitting by your side. He didn't glance at you, choosing to look at the sky after removing his glasses, putting them inside his blazer's pocket, and waited patiently.

Nanami had done this many times before, and knew you usually only needed some peace, quiet and space in order to begin spilling your ruminations and thoughts all over his ears.

With a sigh, you began. 

"I got sentenced to death today for killing my brother. Wonderful day."

Nanami was instantly taken aback, not grasping what you were on about. 

"Could you please clarify?"

You shuffled uncomfortably.

"We were fighting a curse, and long story short, only people without innate cursed techniques could enter its own brand of veil in order to fight it. I asked Hiromi to use his domain on me, so that Itadori wouldn't go in alone, and I was tried for my brother's death."

The sorcerer had some knowledge as to how Higuruma's domain worked, and it still didn't make sense to him. He knew that Higuruma didn't pick the crime to be tried, as it was chosen at random by his shikigami, and also knew there were two possible different penalties, confiscation and death sentence, the second reserved for the most serious of cases, which granted Higuruma the executioner's sword.

He also remembered very distinctly how your brother died, and knew for a fact that you weren't culpable for his death. 

"I apologize, but I still don't understand how that could've happened" he proceeded.

"I..." you stuttered, "I confessed."

Oh.

"Why did you confess?" Nanami asked, voice lowering softly.

You looked at him, and in an instant diverted your gaze back to the ground.

"He died because of me, to save me. He sacrificed himself in a gamble for me to live."

"That doesn't make you culpable" he answered, his voice a mixture of empathetic and objective.

"Why not? He's still dead, and I'm still the reason he died."

You leaned your arms to hug your knees shortly after you said that, physically holding your pieces together.

“You're aware he’d wish you to be happy and at peace after he was gone, right?” Nanami asked.

“And that’s the worst part!” You let out, now finally choked on tears that wouldn't come, allowing your fragments to burst at the seams.

Relief, however, was slow to come, and your chest still was tight around your heavy heart.

Nanami was surprised at your response, and remained silent, so that you had the time you needed to elaborate on your feelings.

"I… I know he’d want me to be happy, so now I don’t just feel sad for his departure, but I feel guilty for not being able to fulfill his wish, to just be happy after his death." 

You sighed tightly, trying to air out that wrenching sensation. It didn't work.

"I feel guilty for not being able to fulfill his dying wish. It's like... I failed him in every single way imaginable."

Nanami gave it a pause before he spoke again.

"I understand."

"You... do? I'm not crazy for feeling like that?" You inquired, looking at him.

Nanami shook his head. "No. Navigating grief is a hard challenge, and it can show itself in many ways, often nonsensical."

"I can't imagine how people deal with grief without undoing themselves every time they have to face it" you blurted out.

Looking at you, his eyes softened, as he said, "sometimes, they end up undoing other people in the process."

That caught your attention, and you looked back at him.

With half a mind to distract yourself from the pain regarding the loss of your twin, you unconsciously decided to poke at another kind of ache, one that you hadn't touched upon ever since you and the sorcerer in front of you had defeated the Lover's Pass curse.

"Kento, why-" you halted for a brief second. "Can I call you Kento?"

He smiled so discreetly you nearly missed it. "Yes."

Acclimating yourself to it, you proceeded.

"Kento, why did you shove me away like that after we spent a night together?" You asked him, unsure if you really wanted to know the answer to that question.

Nanami sighed and looked down for a while before he answered you.

"I was... Frightened."

That definitely took you unexpectedly, and you looked at him puzzled.

"Of what?"

"Dying and leaving you behind."

He sighed before allowing himself to proceed.

"No, that's not all of it."

Nanami took a few seconds to muster up the courage to admit the not-so noble part of his reasoning for doing what he'd done.

"I was afraid of the pain I'd endure if you died, too."

"Afraid of me dying? That was your reason?" You felt genuinely confused. "Why was that even a reason to push me away? This is a risk just as much now. I'm still a jujutsu sorcerer, you know."

"Yu Haibara" was everything he could say, involuntarily pinching the bridge of his nose, impassive face concealing the sting of pain that came from the depths of his past.

"Your friend?"

You remembered when Nanami told you about the mission where his partner died. How they were both chased by the town's people that treated the curse like a deity, how Haibara was fatally wounded, and how Nanami helplessly tried to flee taking Haibara with him, unable to do a single thing to save his best friend's life.

"Yes. At the time, I had only met a few older sorcerers who died in the field, and dying while on a mission myself felt somewhat like a foreign concept to me. I was young and just saw it as an abstract possibility of being a jujutsu sorcerer" Kento said. You waited quietly for him to proceed, collecting his thoughts.

"When he died, I felt his death deeper than any other that had happened up until that point," Nanami began, now turning his eyes to look at you as he said his next words, "and when I failed your mission years ago, it felt quite like the same. That distinct sense of helplessness and failure."

You were both silent for a moment, letting it all hang in the air.

"I thought that if I kept my distance, and something happened to either of us, it wouldn't hurt so profoundly for me or for you" he concluded.

Upon hearing that, you shook your head and looked away, smiling bitterly and incredulous.

"Well, that's just stupid."

He huffed, with a regretful, quitted expression on his face. "Yes, I know that now. But it seemed to make sense then."

After a few moments, gentle and polite, Kento got up and offered you his hand.

You took it and lifted yourself with his help, feeling like his unwavering serenity could somehow be passed over to you from that brief contact alone.

"Thank you" you murmured, nearly whispering.

"Whenever you need my assistance" he answered, fondly.

It felt like the film that had been suffocating you ever since you stepped out of Hiromi's domain was finally removed, and you could breathe in peace again.

-

Tag list (that I keep forgetting, sorry): @yammy-yammy-yama @g-kleran @otomesass @redlikerozez

[lightningbreath]

A little more information about the HH leaks + a rant about some things in these leaks.

SPOILER ALERT

WARNING: MENTIONS OF ATTEMPTED SA AND SUICIDAL ATTEMPTS

Rosie owns Alastor's soul and sings a song about how Alastor is her pet and how he is in her zoo.

Vox looks like they will try to perform a '''''correctional grape'''' on Alastor to prove that Alastor is not asexual. (PROVEN FAKE) .

Vox tries to use the media to damage the Hotel's reputation. At some point, he manages to place several sinners (including some members of the Hotel) under mental control.

Husk and Angel apparently kiss in episode 6.

Apparently Lucifer dies (AMEM) in episode 8. Lute probably kills him, but it's pure speculation, all I found was an image with Lucifer on the floor. If this is true, and Viv resurrects Lucifer, then the chances of Adam and the dead Exorcites returning become very likely. And this will further undermine the understanding of how death works in Hazbin Hotel.

ABOUT EP 2, SEASSON 2

Sir Pentious is simply insufferable. During Emily's song introducing him to Heaven, Pentious tries to create and link A SHITTING DEATH WEAPON WITH A SMILE ON HEAVEN'S FACE, but Emily, Abel and Peter stop him and destroy the weapon.

Sir Pentious's sin was not having reported Jack the Ripper. Although I would say that inaction in these cases does not constitute a valid reason to be sent to Hell for christianity, after seeing how some Mouthwashing fans treat Curly, then it's not crazy to think that there are people who believe that would be a reason to go. to Hell. But it's interesting to see how Viv didn't have the ability to take a real sinner and try to redeem him, it seems like she thinks the only way to empathize is by posing a '''sin''' that isn't a sin, without a challenge moral, without a conversation about what is good and evil, without something that makes people REALLY think about whether redemption should be for everyone or if it should be limited, etc.

Ah, but Hazbin Hotel is a bold series that criticizes religion and says that situations are nuanced, a series without ''good guys vs bad guys'', a series that is not moralistic..... Of course it is. 🙄

Lute nearly has a panic attack after the Tribunal, this is where she starts hallucinating Adam, he basically validates all her thoughts and encourages her to do what she has planned (similar to how she is talking to herself). Here it is interesting to see how Sera, Emily or the ''Voice of God'' don't even care about Lute's emotional instability. Emily and the Voice of God are described as ''good'' and ''compassionate'', but they only know how to look at Lute with disgust instead of, I don't know, TRYING TO LISTEN TO HER BEFORE SIMPLY DISCARDING HER. To have the slightest empathy because Lute's WHOLE world is crumbling and falling apart and the only person with whom she identified is DEAD. It's also funny how quickly Sera simply discards Adam, Lute and the Exorcisms now that she sees that she was ''''wrong'''', simply using them as scapegoats, without worrying about the consequences this left on the exorcisms. itself. Yes, the Exorcisms were Adam's idea, but it was SERA who allowed them for who knows how long, Sera doesn't seem to have tried to control the Exorcists' murderous impulses, she simply left everything in Adam's hands and only showed up to demand and complain when something went wrong.

Abel seems at least somewhat affected by Adam's death, despite appearing to be a pacifist type, he seems somewhat willing to go to Hell out of resentment for Adam's death. He admits that he is not the best person to say what to do about the situation in Hell, as he himself is kind of interested in getting revenge for Adam's death, so this bombshell is in Sera's hands.

Lute goes to Adam's office and Abel follows her, he tries to connect with her by talking about Adam and apologizing for the way he acted in Court, but Lute doesn't want to listen to him and throws him out.

Lute's song begins (BANGER SONG), where she swears revenge on Charlie.

St. Peter continues to be useless and from now on, I will consider that he is just a random person with that name and that he IS NOT the real St. Peter.

Emily is spoiling Sir Pentious, and when she sees him crying for his minions and his "friends", Emily creates new minions (basically the same as the ones he had in Hell, but these ones have wings). She continues to spoil Pentious, who continues to try to create weapons (but the environment in Heaven seems to not allow weapons like Sir Pentious's to work). Sir Pentious spends the entire episode crying saying that he wants to go back to Hell and see his "friends".

Sera decides to put all of Heaven under protection while she thinks about what to do. Emily opens a portal saying she will warn Charlie about recent events.

The Exorcists continue to be dehumanized to the extreme and treated as simple '''walking weapons'' and as scapegoats, with Lute being THE ONLY ONE who has, at least, a face.

Lilith is apparently in the Garden of Eden, she was sitting enjoying the breeze and eating fruit. Then she sees something on the phone, gets up and leaves.

[metalhoops]

“I think I’m seeing things, man,” Eddie spoke from his spot on the Harrington’s couch. His white skin appeared paler still against the brown leather. 

Steve didn’t blame him. He was on all kinds of painkillers. It’d been two weeks since the world fell apart. Two weeks since Vecna disappeared. Two weeks since Eddie almost died. 

Steve liked to treat those memories as others treated head-on collisions. It was better not to look at them directly. It was better to treat it like it’d never happened. 

“What’re we looking at?” Steve asked from his spot on the floor, following Eddie’s line of sight to the gap in the curtains. 

“Don’t know. Thought I saw somebody outside,” Eddie confessed. 

The Harrington house had always been filled with spectres, whether that of partygoers, like front lawn flamingos in need of an exorcism or the body in the backyard pool. But those were Steve’s hang-ups, not Eddie’s. 

If all it took to be a ghost was to haunt, Eddie might be included in the ranks of his own private phantasmagoria. He kept checking each night to make sure the boy was really there, that he’d really gotten out. People shouldn’t have that much blood in them, and they definitely shouldn’t have that much blood out of them. 

Steve went to the window because that was something he could do for Eddie. He wasn’t sure why he kept feeling the need to apologise. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but hell if Steve knew if he’d done anything right either. He’d gotten Eddie out of the Upside Down. He’d put his hands inside the boy’s body, shoved his shirt beneath his skin and held it in the dark cavity that oozed and throbbed warm blood like the rise and fall of the tide.

Don’t think about it. Check the window. His hands at his side felt cold. He wondered if they’d ever be warm again. There was a figure across the street. 

A boy in a basketball jersey circled passed the house. 

Things never ended smoothly. Steve liked to think once Jason went down the rest of the vigilante crew would stop looking for Eddie, but there were some stragglers who hadn’t got the message. 

Hopper had his hands full trying to clear Eddie’s name. Eddie’s uncle was still looking for him. The whole town was holding their breath in the midst of destruction, waiting for someone to blame. Steve shut the curtains, turned the lights off and moved to Eddie’s side in the darkness. 

“Hounds of hell still circling then?” Eddie guessed after one glimpse at Steve’s face. 

“I’ll call Hopper,” Steve reasoned, reaching up to squeeze Eddie’s knee. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Maybe to make sure he was real. Maybe to tell him he was sorry. 

“Don’t worry about it, Steve,” Eddie spoke, reaching out and snagging the hem of Steve’s sweater.

“No one thinks I’m here. If the cops show up at the Harringtons’ it’s going to turn some heads,” Eddie reasoned, and he was right.

So where did that leave them? Sitting alone in the dark with Eddie fading in and out of sleep and Steve watching car headlights dance across the curtains, waiting for the moment everything went wrong. 

“Steve?” Eddie breathed beside Steve’s ear in the blackness. He hadn’t realised they were so close. 

“Yeah?” Steve moved his eyes from the window to look at Eddie. 

“I think I’m crashing,” he noted, a grimace dancing across his face. Steve had never felt smaller. 

“Doc said we’ve gotta wait six hours,” Steve replied, hoping he didn’t sound as worried as he felt. 

“How long’s it been?” 

“Three.” 

Steve always wanted to appear cool in times of crisis, but he had no idea what he was doing. Some of the government agents Steve had signed countless NDAs for over the past four years had patched Eddie up as best they could and had started scrambling for a cover-up. 

In the meantime, Eddie would stay at Steve’s place. It made the most sense. Eddie was nobody to Steve. No one would go looking for Eddie at the Harringtons’, and unlike the other older teens, he didn’t have parents to answer to. Big house. No parents. Perfect place to lie low. 

Steve was nobody to Eddie and yet for the past week, they’d been an island unto themselves, trapped indoors together, watching shadows on the walls and trying to keep each other alive and sane. He felt completely unprepared. 

“Alright. Come on. Let’s go to bed,” Steve muttered, kneeling in front of Eddie. He watched the boy rise to a sitting position over his shoulder. Eddie snorted.

“What exactly is the plan here, Steve?” 

Eddie had been stuck oscillating between the living room, kitchen, and downstairs bathroom for days. They could both use a change of scenery. 

“Piggyback,” Steve spoke, trying not to think about the connotations that the word had garnered. He wasn’t going to think about Vecna. Not today. 

He expected the boy to argue, but instead, he felt Eddie’s arms snake around his throat. He held tight, but not as tight as he should. Steve had to hold on to his forearms like backpack straps as he stood. Eddie’s legs were stronger. They held firm around Steve’s waist. 

Eddie’s head flopped against Steve’s shoulder blade, nuzzling into the space. He was warm as the sun. Too warm. He was running a temperature. Steve tried not to think of the last time he carried Eddie. The boy was uncharacteristically quiet. Steve needed to do something. 

“Saddle up, buckeroo,” Steve spoke, hoisting Eddie further up his back. He felt a puff of air against his neck, a barely there laugh. 

“Hi-yo, Silver,” Eddie grumbled against Steve’s skin. 

Steve moved deftly through the dark, taking the staircase slowly and methodically. The last thing either of them needed was another broken bone. 

“I think I owe you one once all this is over,” Eddie noted. Steve was already shaking his head.

“You stick around, and I’ll call it a favour. I think Henderson would kick my ass if you died.” 

“The kid’s got spunk. I’ll give him that,” Eddie noted as the two reached the top of the stairs. 

“He’s got an attitude and a problem with authority,” Steve corrected, taking Eddie to his bedroom.

He moved to the edge of his bed and let Eddie extract himself. When they broke apart, Steve felt cold again. 

“That’s our boy,” Eddie chuckled, shooting Steve a lopsided smirk. He was definitely still high on painkillers.

Steve rolled his eyes and helped lower Eddie down onto his favourite pillow, the one worn down with age but all the more comfortable for it. He pulled the covers up around the boy’s shoulders.

“Yeah, our boy,” Steve echoed in a too-fond tone. 

He’d never let Henderson hear the term of affection. The kid had a big enough head as it was, but in the too-quiet world of just himself and Eddie, he felt okay admitting it. Once it looked like Eddie was settled in, Steve sat on the edge of his bed, feeling as he always did, like a stranger in his own home. 

“When did you last get some shut-eye, boy wonder?” Eddie asked, his foot tucking beneath Steve’s thigh.  

Friday. What day was it? Sunday. Not good. 

“Well, come on then, don’t make a guy beg. Lay down, Steve. It’s your bed. I could sleep in the spare room if it’s a problem.” There was something cautious about the offer Steve didn’t understand. 

He flopped down beside Eddie, so close the two shared a pillow. It changed the shape of the thing. It made the familiar strange. 

“You know, I had this dream last night,” Eddie began, his dark eyes still open, glued to the ceiling. He cringed, knowing all the ways dreams could go bad, but Eddie shook his head.

“Not that kind of dream,” He insisted, his hands balling into fists on the bedsheets. 

“I had a dream I was a pinball machine,” the boy stated plainly. The absurdity of the statement shocked a laugh out of Steve. 

“These painkillers are legit, Harrington,” Eddie spoke, shooting Steve a sidelong glance. 

“What kind of pinball machine?” 

“You know the Centaur one? It’s black and white, mostly. The arts got this topless guy who’s half man, half motorbike,” Eddie explained. 

Steve had no idea what he was saying, but it was nice to hear him talk. 

“Wait, if you were the pinball machine, how did you know what you looked like?” 

“Great question Steven. I’ve got no clue. Dream logic,” Eddie reasoned.  

Steve screwed up his nose at the use of his full name. Only his dad called him Steven. Eddie raised a brow, seeming to take note. One of them had shifted closer. Steve wasn’t sure who. Eddie’s hand brushed against his side as he played with the sheets. 

“Remind me again why I needed to know about your pinball dream?” Steve asked. The sound of the wind in the trees outside his bedroom window set his teeth on edge. 

“Because you’re too damn serious and I thought it’d make you smile... Which it did.” Eddie added the last part in quietly and Steve rolled his eyes. 

Eddie craned his head to look around Steve’s room before screwing up his nose. 

“Anyone ever told you your wallpaper is gaudy as hell? Your curtains match your walls. Dude, I thought rich people were meant to have taste,” he observed, the boys’ shoulders pressed together. 

“This coming from the guy who eats cereal out of the box with his hands,” Steve countered, no heat in his voice. 

“Are you still mad I used to stand on your lunch table?” Eddie muttered, shoving Steve’s shoulder before tensing. When had Steve last checked his dressings? 

He flipped the bedside lamp on, leaning over Eddie to do so. He’d been helping the guy shower for days now. Privacy was a word reserved for other people. Intimacy was a necessity.  

“Once you stood in my mashed potatoes. It was disgusting,” Steve uttered, gently peeling up the hem of Eddie’s tee shirt. Really, it was Steve’s, but it seemed strange to make distinctions. 

Eddie’s eyes trailed down to Steve’s fingers, half-hooded and slowed with sleep or inebriation, Steve didn’t know which. He wondered how much of all this Eddie would remember when he got better. He would get better. 

“You never ate the potatoes. You’d bring your stupid bagels from home,” Eddie remarked, as Steve carefully unwound the bandage and gauze. It was stained brown with dried blood, but it looked better than it’d been a few days before, no longer as red or swollen.   

The bagel comment made Steve look up. Seemed like Robin wasn’t the only one that’d been watching him. Maybe Eddie had a crush on Tammy Thompson, too. Maybe it was something else. Steve’s friends had crappy taste in women. Eddie could do better. 

“What’s the verdict, doc?” Eddie questioned, noticing Steve’s sudden silence. 

He cleaned the wounds as best he could. Eddie’s fingers had found their way to Steve’s thigh, gripping so tight he thought it would bruise. It would be another to add to the collection. Steve hadn’t been thinking of how his battle wounds were healing. He was in triage mode. Eddie’s wounds were worse than his. 

“We're going to have to amputate,” Steve deadpanned as he found the first aid kit he’d hidden beneath his bed years before, starting to redress the wound. 

“How the hell can you amputate a side?” Eddie asked with a shaky laugh, his breathing more ragged again. 

“Well, you see, there’s this new experimental procedure that lets you transplant your brain into a pinball machine,” Steve began and felt Eddie’s elbow in his side. 

“Screw you.” 

Steve laid back beside Eddie, less space between them than before, if it was at all possible. They braced against each other, the contact grounding Steve. Eddie was alive. He was alive. Maybe one day they could look at each other and not think about death. That day wasn’t today, but Steve could hope for it. 

As Eddie drifted to sleep, his head fell on Steve’s shoulder. He wouldn’t sleep for long that night, but he was used to that. He knew the weeks and months after a run-in with the Upside Down were full of fitful sleep and nightmares, but they never lasted. 

On a long enough timeline, you could get used to anything. It was strange how short that timeline was when it came to getting used to Eddie. 

More days came and went with the same imperfect routines. The two boys woke at all hours of the night and spent the daylight hours behind closed curtains, trying to heal. 

By the third day, Steve got sick of the quiet. A sombre mood hung over them, shifting and changing like the phases of the moon. It never entirely disappeared, but there were moments it seemed almost absent.  

One of these such moments arose when Steve hijacked the boombox from the living room and dragged it upstairs to his bedroom, where a slowly healing Eddie sat bored out of his mind, aching and itchy. Steve knew the feeling. The wound on his neck had scabbed and begun to fade into a scar. 

“Hey, Munson?” Steve spoke, sitting beside Eddie, spreading his tape collection between them. 

“You wanna hear some real music?” He asked, watching Eddie’s nose scrunch and his teeth worry away at his bottom lip.

“These are all horrible, Harrington.” 

Eddie turned over several cassettes in his hand, treating them gently as though they were something special.  

“You have every WHAM! album, dude. The Outfield. Halls & Oats. Tears for Fears,” Eddie listed off, his tone one of disgust. 

“You’re going to have to pick something, or I’ll pick WHAM! out of spite.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes and shuffled through the tapes, tossing one Steve’s way. 

“Bowie isn’t horrible,” Eddie mumbled as Steve placed The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, into the player. 

The two sat shoulder to shoulder, as always, listening to the quiet swell of drums. Steve realised too late it was a song about the end of the world. He realised, later still, that it was a love song. Eddie’s fingers drummed against his knee. Steve tried to ignore the way the action made his heart swell. 

Steve couldn’t sit still any longer as Moonaged Daydream began. He remembered another life in Nancy Wheeler’s garage, asking her to pretend things were normal for a couple of hours. God, he wanted that. He needed a few normal hours.

He wasn’t the same person he’d been back then, but parts of him had stayed the same. He didn’t know how to change them. Nancy Wheeler faced problems head-on, but Steve? The passage of time had taught him how to stand his ground in the face of danger, but he hadn’t yet learned how to stop being chased. 

He caught Eddie’s eye and watched as a wicked grin spread across his face. Without words, he knew exactly what Steve was about to do. He grabbed the nail bat he kept by the bed, the same one from the Wheeler’s garage and sang, using the gnarly weapon as his makeshift microphone. He was a little too loud and a little off-tune.  He sang about alligators and space invaders, lyrics he knew off by heart, without understanding them.

He watched as a grin threatened to crack Eddie’s face in two. There was a reckless abandon to his smile. It was different from the glazed-eyed, half-high smiles of the past week. His eyes were keen and sharp as he watched Steve fling himself across the room in the way only someone who’d learned to dance drunk could.

By the time the album finished, he’d worked up a sweat. Eddie joined in, singing a couple of lines when he could before tugging Steve back to bed, his hand in Steve’s hair, smoothing it back in place. The action was intimate, yet familiar.

“Alright, Starman. Maybe Bowie doesn’t suck so hard, but when I’m not on the run from the law, I’m going to show you what real music sounds like.” 

“Promise?” Steve asked, his chest heaving. 

Then, Eddie did something so unlike anything the populous of Hawkins would expect. To them, he was a Satanist and a murderer. Steve had always known better, but he’d seen Eddie as a wildcard. He was loud and rough around the edges, but he also had the capability of being endearing when the moment called for it. Still, Steve had never expected Eddie to roll over, extend his pinkie and link their little fingers together. 

“I promise,” He assured, placing his lips to the knuckle of his thumb as though sealing the deal. 

The action was equal parts childlike and intense. Steve looked down at their interlaced fingers and knew he was in over his head. Warmth pooled in Steve’s fingertips. 

“Eds, I—,” A knock at the downstairs door made the words die on Steve’s lips. The boys pulled apart. Steve was cold. 

“I’ll get it,” Steve spoke, picking up the discarded nail bat and trudging down the stairs. 

He hoped it was one of the door-knocking jocks. Some primal part of him felt like hitting something. Years before, he would have questioned if he was the kind of person who could do it, but now he knew he could. 

Steve clutched at the bat hidden behind his back as he swung open the door, coming face-to-face with an older man dressed in too-short jean shorts, holding an armful of paper bags. He looked familiar. He’d seen the man with Hopper. A furrow etched its way onto his brow. 

“Aren’t you going to let your beloved uncle in, Steve?” The man spoke, loud enough for the people in the next neighbourhood to hear. 

“Right,” Steve mumbled, pushing the door open and stepping to the side. 

The man walked through the house as though he’d grown up within their walls, dropping the paper bags on the countertop, switching on the lights and examining the space. 

“Hopper sent me with supplies. It’d draw too much attention having the feds at your front door, but a visit from your favourite Uncle Murray? That’s incognito. I’ve got groceries and painkillers, slipped in some vodka too, on the house. Personally, I was thinking of making my homemade ravioli for dinner. Trust me, it’s to die for. Where’s the other one by the way?” The man, Murray, breathed, spinning on his heels to examine the interior of the house.  Steve let his nail bat fall to the floor.

“You really should invest in a gun, kid...Was I interrupting something?” The older man asked, gesturing absentmindedly to his balding head. Steve touched his hair and found it still out of place. He ran his fingers through it in an attempt to tame it. 

“No, we... I was sleeping. Eddie’s upstairs. I think he’s okay, but I could use another set of eyes. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing here. Are you staying?”

“I’m just staying for dinner. It’d look strange if your uncle only showed up for a few minutes, wouldn’t it?” Steve didn’t dignify that with an answer. 

“There’s the man of the hour,” Murray spoke, glancing up at the top of the staircase where Eddie stood, leaning heavily on the banister. 

“What happened to staying up there?” Steve spoke through gritted teeth, making his way back up the stairs. 

“You were taking too long,” Eddie muttered with an unbothered shrug. 

“And if it’d been one of Jason’s asshole friends, we’d have been screwed,” Steve rebutted, letting Eddie lean on him as they made their way to Murray in the kitchen. At least he could walk.

“But it wasn’t,” Eddie huffed, his breath warm on Steve’s neck. 

Steve kicked out one of the kitchen chairs and lowered Eddie into it. The older man watched them as a scientist observes a specimen. There was a morbid fascination to it.

“I see you two are getting along well,” He spoke. 

He’d found where Steve’s mother had stored their pots and had begun some strange kitchen alchemy. Steve had made risotto. This guy looked like he was completing a summoning ritual. The ingredients were splayed out on the countertop like objects of adoration. 

Steve sat down in the chair beside Eddie. It felt strange having someone else in the house. For what seemed like a lifetime, his world had consisted of one other person. He missed Robin, Dustin, and the rest of the kids, but he hadn’t let himself dwell on it. He’d known their isolation couldn’t last forever, but he’d never have guessed Murray would be the first person he’d see.  

“Tense mood. Why is it I always end up in the middle of couples in denial?” Murray breathed to himself. 

Eddie’s head snapped up with a speed Steve hadn’t seen him manage all week. Steve didn’t look at Murray, he was too busy trying to unpick the pained look on Eddie’s face. His eyes searched the boy’s body for some torn open wound he’d missed. 

“What? Don’t look so surprised. Contrary to what kids these days think, we did have homosexuality in the sixties,” Murray informed before pausing. He gave Steve a once-over that made his skin crawl. He felt as though he were a bug, pinned beneath a glass plate. 

“And bisexuality,” He clarified. 

Steve averted his eyes and reached over to squeeze Eddie’s knee. He was hopelessly lost in the conversation, but he knew something was wrong with Eddie. The boy jumped at the sudden contact and Steve pulled his hand away as though burnt. 

“So, what’s the problem? Still in denial?” Murray asked, levelling Steve with a knowing look. He scowled back at the man, ready for him to leave. 

“No. I think you know how you feel, maybe even how he feels.” Steve didn’t know how to respond. 

“You, however,” Murray continued, turning his attention to Eddie, the boiling pot on the stove, forgotten.

“I don’t think you have a clue. Self-esteem issues, maybe. You try to hide it, but you couldn’t imagine that someone in a house like this would look at you twice.” 

“What the hell, man?” Eddie breathed with a huff of indignation. Murray showed no signs of stopping. His eyes were back on Steve. 

“So, what’s holding you back? You got your heart broken after Nancy Wheeler. Let me guess, you keep saying how much you want commitment, but you keep dating the wrong people, people who don’t want to be tied down. That, my boy, is self-sabotage and him,” Murray spoke, indicating Eddie with a wooden spoon he’d been using to stir the rice. 

“He looks like a long-haul kind of guy.” 

“Dude,” Eddie interjected. 

“What? You’re both obviously attracted to one another. Don’t lie. I have eyes. You’re telling me that all this near-death stuff hasn’t made you re-evaluate your life a little? It’s just been you two, locked away together at the end of the world, helping each other heal. Seeking comfort in one another. You’ve got shared trauma. That kind of thing bonds you for life.” 

“Leave it alone,” Steve said, standing as he spoke. The chair scraped on the tile floor. A nails on a chalkboard kind of sound. 

Steve pushed past the older man, pulled the pot off the stove, and let a tense silence settle over the three of them. The subsequent dinner dragged on in uncomfortable silence. Steve and Eddie kept their eyes glued to their plates. Murray talked but neither paid attention. He gave Eddie’s wounds a once over, appearing as lost as Steve. He didn’t seem concerned, so Steve took it as a good thing. 

He thought he’d known what tense silence between himself, and Eddie felt like, but he’d known nothing compared to the moment Murray left. His whole body was on edge. Eddie wouldn’t meet his eyes. They needed to talk, but neither wanted to be the first to cave. 

“I was thinking of turning in early,” Steve spoke, not knowing what else to say. 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

The boys lay side by side, but sleep didn’t come. Eddie’s body was wound tight as a tourniquet. This time, Steve was the one bleeding out. 

He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. Maybe that he was sorry. Murray was right. Steve had known Eddie liked him and he hadn’t said anything because it wasn’t a problem he could throw himself in front of. It’d be easier if he thought telling Eddie would end up with him getting hit. There were worse things. 

Eddie’s feelings had become more apparent as their time together wore on, but on some level, Steve had known long before. When Eddie had leaned over into his space smelling of cigarette ash, dried earth and sweat and called Steve some god-awful pet name, he’d known. He also knew the feelings weren’t one-sided. 

That revelation came later. Eddie had been fading in and out of consciousness. Steve had shaken him awake to redress his wounds when it happened. The boy awoke, shooting him a lopsided grin, gazing at Steve with his drowsy, doe eyes.

He’d crooned, ‘Good morning sunshine’. And that had been enough. 

Steve’s heart had stuttered to a halt as it had all the times before when a pretty girl had called him a prettier name. 

As much as Steve hated to admit it, Murray had been right about a lot of things. There was one thing Steve desperately wanted him to be wrong about. 

He and Eddie were bonded because of what they’d been through. That’s what the man had said. Shared trauma. Was that all they were?

Steve was back in the bathroom with Nancy, her white shirt, red. The whites of his eyes the moment she left, red. 

He knew where shared trauma got him. He’d try to bury it. To move past it. He wanted to be more than what was done to him. People would say he was running. He was bullshit. 

How was he meant to sit with the kind of stuff he and Eddie had been through? How was he meant to fight it? Would Steve always look at Eddie and see his death? Would Eddie always look at Steve and feel like dying? 

“I wished I’d met you later,” Steve spoke to the dark room. Eddie’s locked body loosened, and as it did, he started to shake. In a moment, he’d start to bleed too. 

“You know, normally people say they wished they’d met you sooner.” 

“I mean... I wish we’d met after everything with The Upside Down. That you hadn’t gotten dragged into it. I wish that we’d gotten to know each other the normal way,” Steve explained. Eddie snorted. 

“Can you imagine me doing anything the normal way?” He had a point. 

Steve didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say. The silence was back, looming large as a lunar eclipse. 

“You aren’t... weirded out by what he said? About me liking you?” Eddie’s voice was small. The only time Steve heard Eddie whisper was when he was dying. 

“I think he also said something about me liking you back,” Steve replied, glancing at Eddie’s profile only to find the man was already watching him. His face was contorted in confusion. 

“Then... what’s the problem here, Stevie?” 

Steve had never been good with his words. 

“What if we’ve ruined it?” He tried. At seeing a frown cross Eddie’s face, he knew he hadn’t done a good enough job at explaining. 

“With what’s happened between me and you. You never would’ve looked at me twice if I hadn’t saved you, and what if that’s all we’ve got? Shared trauma.” 

Bullshit. What if all they had was bullshit? Eddie finally understood.

“I don’t like you because you saved me, Steve. I like you because despite all the terrible shit you make me want to laugh.  I love that you’re shit at dancing, but you do it anyway. Also, screw that guy your risotto is better than his. You’re a good cook. Your stupid hair makes me want to slam my head in a car door and before you say anything, that’s a compliment. You care so damn much about everyone.” To Steve’s surprise, Eddie’s hand reached up to touch his cheek. 

“I don’t like you because we’ve been through bad shit together. I like you because you make me feel like one day, we’re going to get out on the other side of it, that things aren’t going to be like this forever,” Eddie finished.

Steve’s heart was a cardinal, beating itself bloody against a windowpane. 

“Can I kiss you?” Steve breathed. For the first time in a long time, he was nervous. 

Eddie’s smile was a lightning strike, bright, beautiful and something they’d shape gods after. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

Eddie’s lips were warm.