#arguments give me extreme anxiety

[teaboot]

do you think i'll ever get to a place in my life where i'm actually a good person and i don't keep getting bombarded with people telling me all the ways i'm doing things wrong. will i ever stop feeling like i'm faking being good and i'm actually a despicable person deep down inside like there's something rotten and irremovable in the very core of me. i feel sick

As a recovering self-hater I have a few things that have been helping

Truly shitty people are typically, in my experience, not chronically preoccupied with anxieties that they need to be better. It seems to be the 100% rock-solid certainty that everything you ever do is selfless that you need to watch out for.

Motive only matters in court. If you donate 30 hours a week to charity so you can tell yourself you're a good person or you donate that same time because you genuinely enjoy helping people, that's still 30 hours, imo. At that point the argument is more philosophical than anything. The help is still happening.

Nobody can read your mind. You can be the bitterest, cattiest, most judgemental and mean-spirited motherfucker alive, but as long as you don't let your feelings hurt others, you're golden. In fact, I personally think you should get extra credit for effort. Swimming upriver ain't easy

None of us are selfless by nature. That's okay. We all crave attention, and validation, and comfort, and reward. That self-interest is a survival skill. It's not going anywhere and I don't think it should. The key is moderation, self control, and consideration for others.

The loudest voice in your head probably isn't yours. Survivors of all kinds of abuse- and all abuse is psychological to varying extremes- often keep their critic's narrative in their head. That voice that says you're awful- is that something you'd say to someone else? No? Then try to figure out who said it to you. They were probably an asshole. The voice that answers it it probably your own. Listen to that one

No, you will not feel like this forever. It's a pain in the ass, but dedicating time and thought into ignoring that inner critic and elevating your positive impulses is effective.

Some things I've done myself that seem to help:

Do some research on cognitive behavioral therapy and cognitive reprogramming. These are easier to exercise with a therapist but once you figure out the steps to follow you can do them on your own, too.

When you do something good, write it down for yourself. Keep a dated journal, either on paper or in your phone. When you find yourself in a pit of self-loathing, you can go back and remind yourself of all the good you've done. If this is hard, try listing 3 good things you did at the end of each day. Anything from picking up a scrap of litter to running a food drive.

Long post, but really, the best thing I can say is this:

Aything that takes effort is worth celebrating, even if that effort is minimal or that task is considered small.

At the end of the day, "bare minimum" isn't working a full-time job and eating three meals a day, cleaning up after yourself and doing it with a smile- bare minimum is nothing. Bare minimum is laying on the floor motionless for 24 hours and filter-feeding like a sea sponge. And if even that's difficult for you, then it's not your bare minimum, is it?

There's a lot of cruel, inconsiderate, uncaring people in the world, only out for themselves at the expense of others, and even if you think you're one of them, giving a shit about doing better still puts you a mile ahead of most.

Try not to worry too terribly. If you're thinking about it, you're probably doing fine👍

[martian-astro10]

Astrology observations - Part 4 (use whole signs)

🌟 Moon in 4th is one of my favourite placements. These people usually have a good career, like an emotionally fulfilling one. They won't stay in a job that doesn't make them happy. Their mom can help them choose a career or give them interview tips.

🏮Mars in 2nd house people are so lucky when it comes to earning money, it's like, they get a new money making opportunity just when they're on their last penny. They're also not afraid to get their hands dirty and are willing to do almost anything, very hard working people. They're also the ones managing all the money in their family.

🌟 Mercury in 8th house people are the ones with a "sexy brain" like the WAY their mind works, are so good at analysing arguments and coming up with the best possible solution. Good debating skills. These people have great manifestation skills, I have a list of 100 + incidents, it's honestly a little scary. Can also develop clairvoyant abilities if they work on it.

🏮I haven't met a single non religious, Sun in 9th house person in my life. Even if they're not that religious in their younger years, they will be when they get older. Always willing to help others even when they themselves are suffering, my mom has this, and.....it pisses me off so bad. The "put your own oxygen mask on first" advice is for you all. Stop helping people, be selfish, it's not your duty to make everyone else's life better. My mom doesn't listen, but maybe you all will.

🌟 Venus in 11th house is a placement that's really good from a business perspective. They're great at negotiations so that's helpful. They won't like doing a regular 9 to 5 job as it will suppress their freedom and creativity. They will open their own business pretty early on in life, in like late 20's or early 30's. Great architects and interior designers. I remember when I made the architecture and astrology post, a lot of people had this.

🏮I haven't seen anyone talk about this, but moon in 6th house people can be really good leaders, they're very helpful and kind and their ability to understand emotions makes them extremely likable. They have more of a people oriented leadership style. They focus on building strong relationship with their group members or employees. Also, why are you all always sick 😭? Prone to anxiety and stress and this leads to body pain and digestive issues. Please put your health first.

🌟 It's really funny how ALL my friends, every single one, has Venus in 1st. I would say that rather than us being pretty, we're just very likable. Even if they're introvert or shy, they have a communication style that makes other people want to talk to them. It's just an aura thing, tbh. Also, they're huge people pleasers and will do their best not to offend anyone, like even if a person is being annoying, they won't say anything. (Mars in 1st can change this)

🏮 Jupiter in 2nd house is not good for marriage but great for career and friendships. I know people with this who are still in contact with their pre school friends. Their friends will help them in their career as well. They're intelligent but they think they're not, and this makes them lose a lot of opportunities. Need to have a little bit of courage to succeed in life.

🌟 Sun in 12th house people probably had a painful childhood (more so than others), if mercury is with sun in 12th, then they write poems to express this pain. They're good writers, and can be lyricists, authors, script/play writers, etc. these people are physically weak. Might also not know who they are, as in, not aware of their own personality traits.

🏮Saturn in 12th house people lack confidence when they're young, but become more confident as they get older and learn to get out of their comfort zone. These people have better luck outside of their homeland. This is a good placement if you want to become a psychologist as it gives you the ability to properly analyse those with mental disorders. They also look aloof most of the time. This is another placement that is good in terms of writing skills, many famous authors have this (those who write sad stuff)

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. the damage is done.

about. when satoru decides that he wants you (his ex) back, his foolproof plan starts off by making your new partner extremely insecure..

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, non canon, toxic relationships, love bombing, exes to lovers, gaslighting, infidelity, cheating, breeding, fingering, multiple orgasms, couch sex, oral sex ( f! receiving ), unprotected sex, ex boyfriend!gojo, fem!reader.

ex!gojo who slides into the dms of your current partner to slowly make them insecure.

he acts like a nice guy, offers advice on what to do when you’re mad, what you like to eat, how to keep you all sedated and happy. your current partner starts to gush about how cool of a dude satoru gojo is. how could you pass up on such an amazing guy? he’s rich, funny, caring — they can see how you fell for him.

but what they don’t understand is the greedy side of satoru — the one who one who wanted you all to himself. the guy who never let you go out, who made you cry but made you cum with the promise of never hurting your feelings again.

sometimes the advice gets a little too specific. how does satoru know where you keep your sex toys for kinky nights of fun. why does he know the spot that makes you arch your back off of the sweaty sheets just like that? or how many fingers you like to take? or how long it takes before you start gagging on cock.

it makes your new partner insecure, gives them performance anxiety and ruins the vibes of your bedroom. they can’t communicate with you, at least not properly — it leads to fights that are all too familiar. conversations you’ve had with satoru before. your little insecurities and biggest fears are thrown into your face, things they know will hurt you deep down you. these are some of the first times you cry because of your new partner.

it’s all too familiar, these are things you’ve gone through before with your ex — the recognisable twinge in your chest and feeling of guilt after being gaslight is something you know all too well.

“he was right, you really are just a cry baby.” they say. “since he knows so much about you, maybe you should go back to fucking him.” which feels like a bullet to your heart because you’ve spent so much time proving to your partner that you’re over your ex and all the bullshit that satoru put you through. all the drama and all the trauma he left you with.

your partner leaves for the night, leaving you alone with your tears and the tiny voice in the back of your mind that tells you it’s all satoru’s fault. it goads you into calling him, his number which you blocked but kept written down in your notes app in case of emergency. it’s been forever since you last spoke to your ex and told him you wanted nothing to do with him — so you’re surprised when he picks up on the second ring, seemingly happy to hear your voice.

“what did you do, satoru?” his name on your tongue is foreign yet also familiar. you’ve said it a million times before, in many different ways (lust, love and loss) but this time you’re angry. like the last time you spoke.

“what do you mean?”

he plays coy and you feel your temper bubble. “we got into a fight, i know it’s your fault. what did you say to them?”

“shouldn’t you be making up with them?” gojo answers your question with a question, his all-knowing smirk transcending down the static on the line. “why was your first thought to call me?”

that makes you falter, stops your typhoon of rage in its place.

the truth is, you know why you called. deep down you know that gojo could fix this, when you fought as a couple you would always call him first and in tears — letting him calm you down. gaslighting you in the process. he always knew what to say to scab over the wounds of your arguments, patching over deep cuts with little white lies even if he would reopen them and leave mental scars in place.

when you fight with your partner now, you seek the same sort of unhealthy comfort in the only person who you know will give it you and that’s exactly what satoru wants.

“let me come over,” he states, suave. “let me help you fix this.” he takes advantage of your emotional torment, butters you up with the promise of comforting you and against your better judgement — you let him. your partner abandoned you, satoru wants to help you. you’ve always known that he still loved you, at least he wouldn’t leave, at least he’s not like your partner.

regret will come in the morning, you think, when you let satoru into your apartment and back into your life. he knows that everything on the walls are different, the picture frames are now brown instead of white and hold photos of your current life in place of what you had with your ex. the furniture has moved and the diffuser at the entryway smells different. but as much as you’ve tried, you can’t get rid of your ex, satoru gojo. he will always make his way back to you.

he makes sure that you’re aware of this when he kisses you on the couch that you kept from your previous relationship. satoru tells you that you’ll always need him when he pins your hips to its leather with a strong arm and buries his white head of hair between your warm, thick thighs. he proves it to you with the way that his tongue licks broad strokes against the entire length of your sex and flicks at your clit because he knows that how you like you it, he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he eats you out like that.

there’s going to be a stain in the couch from just how much more you gush on satoru’s skilled fingers and tongue, as he moans against your sopping mound and tells you how he’s the only one who could ever make you see stars this way. his face gleams with your arousal and his eyes sparkle knowingly because it’s true. you’ve never felt as good as you have with satoru in comparison to anyone else. it puts doubt in your mind, makes you question why you even left him in the first place.

though, you don’t have much time to dwell on the thought…because in hurried yet precise movements — gojo is making you cum on his fingers again. the rough pad of his thumb possessively writes the letters of his name against your pulsating clit — hardened by blood that rushes to it, carrying lustful hormones from your frenzied mind. he loves how you taste when you cum, how you cling to him, how he knows that you’ll never forget this phenomenalfeeling after tonight.

it’s a little too intimate for two exes when satoru makes you ride him. his legs spread wide while you straddle his lap, creating the perfect angle for his cock to nudge against that one special pleasure spot inside of you. you’ve missed his cock, it’s perfect length and thickness — it’s pretty pink tip that oozes so much precum that’s all for you. it’s only ever been for you.

the way satoru’s large palms cup the globes of your ass and guide you back and forth over his lap unlocks a nostalgic and loving feeling in your rapidly rising and falling chest. he kisses you with so much passion that you’re reminded of the good nights you spent with him — making love until sunrise while his tongue rolls over yours and licks at your teeth. you’re naked and chest to chest, noses becoming neighbours while the course of your breathing syncs up. it’s overwhelming, how adored you feel in the moment, all while fucking your ex on the couch.

you grope at each other like it’ll be the final time you ever have sex like this. your hands settle at the base of satoru’s neck and his on your waist while you languidly move together in a salacious dance routine you’ve done so many times before. you’re perfect partners, it’s evident in the way you reward his throbbing cock with dribbles of your creamy arousal — droplets of soft white running down and catching on veins on his shaft.

“i’m always going to love you, baby,” satoru’s soft laments echo through the home you’ve made with your over lover — barely audible over his balls slapping against your peachy ass and your cunt selfishly squeezing down on him, squelching with every thrust. “i’m always gonna want you like this, even when we fuck up. e-even when we’re not together,” he growls and rambles, blissful blue eyes darting all over your face twisted with ecstasy and right down to where you paint him with arousal and suck him in so well. “fuuuck, i wanna cum…s-say you want it, say you want me.”

it’s overwhelming, how much love you have for satoru. for your ex. it washes over your feelings of guilt in regard to your infidelity, any bad emotion or thought of your partner cannot compare to the burning and bright lust that flickers in your tummy. when you fuck yourself down on gojo’s throbbing girth he pulls back out of your snug, salacious sex — creating a delicious cycle of friction that you never want to forget. that you miss so bad.

“i want…i want you!” you stutter, tears brewing in your starry eyes. “i miss you, i love you,” the words rush out of you before your hazy mind can even catch up and register them. you barely manage to register that you’re fucking your ex just mere hours after arguing with your special one. it doesn’t matter, not right now and not in this moment. not when satoru teases your clit until you’re able to cum all over him, painting his thighs with your slick as you slump against him.

even though he shouldn’t, even though he’s ruined your relationship, gojo cums inside your quivering cunt. fills you to the brim with his viscous, scorching seed and there’s so much of it that it seeps from your entrance — pooling okto the couch below.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“come back to me, baby.”

“i…i don’t know if i can…”

you want to so badly, especially the damage is done, sealed by stolen kisses that’ll mean nothing in the morning.

satoru’s gotten what he wanted, to make you question your relationship and remind you of why you should come back to him. you fell asleep an intertwined mess on the couch and he leaves in the early hours of the next day.

all so that your current partner will never know the events that occurred on the night of your fight — you don’t have to heart to tell them when they come back the next morning with your favourite flowers and an apology. they shouldn’t have left you. they shouldn’t have gone to satoru behind your back. they love you.

but it’s already too late, a seed of doubt has been planted in your mind by your ex. you release that you still want him, that you might even miss him and the foundation of your new relationship becomes shaky and unstable.

you’ve grown insecure and you will always be comparing your current partner to your last partner. to gojo.

and your lover? now they’re insecure too, because you’re always so distant and you always smell a little different when you come home these days.

because you’ve started going behind their back to be with your ex, satoru, too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[muntitled]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞

Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hating Farleigh had never stopped him from using you

Content Warnings: Language, Fwb, Forbidden Relationship, Unedited, Dark Fic, Dark Humor, Coarse Jokes, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smoking, Weaponizing!Ollie, Smut (+18), Minors DNI, Slight CNC, Breeding, Neediness, Exhibition Kink, Grinding, Extreme Degradation, Humiliation Kink, Praise Kink, Hate Sex, Hair Pulling, Rough sex, Messy Sex, Spitting, Orgasm Control, Dirty Talk, Choking

He'd definitely bully me if he was real, and I'd be in love with him

"It's not like we're actually going to eat anything. Mother only insists we all make use of the furniture," Venetia's rambling is incessant as she walks briskly into the dining hall. You know her irritation is the by-product of the undiagnosed anxiety that comes with being forced into an uncomfortable Dior slip on such short notice.

In all fairness, you weren't doing so well either. The dress you are currently wearing is just as suffocating and Venetia's Saint Laurent heels dig into your bone. Your outfit is a velvety, laced up nightmare.

A torture chamber.

You wholeheartedly wanted to crawl into your own bed and forget about everyone and everything. In fact, the only thing keeping you mildly excited for dinner with The Henrys happens to be-

"Gentlemen!" You exclaim, before cleverly adding, "And you've brought Farleigh with you."

You all congregate at the left side of the dinner table, while the Henrys and The Henrys wives all mill about the dinner party. There are'nt any rules to things like this. It's all so self explantory.

What was not all too self explantory was your seating positions. Venetia forces you to sit in between herself and a very vexed Farleigh.

"How interesting," Farleigh barely addresses you in his tired monotonous lilt, "You're almost, nearly, just about, decently dressed." You bristle as you lower your behind to your chair, all while Farleigh shoots you a tight-lipped smile.

"Wow!" Your words drip with sarcasm, promptly halting Farleigh from flirting with the man to his immediate left - one of the Henrys closeted sons, no doubt. "That almost, nearly, just about sounded like a compliment!" You exclaim before leaning over beside him in a daring display of confidence. You place your hand tentatively on his thigh before whispering, "Am I going to have to use my rape whistle?"

Farleigh's scoff sends a string of lightning shooting down your spine.

"You're such a slut, I think you'd enjoy probably enjoy it." His breath is hot against your cheek and would be considered vile.

It should be vile.

Why can't you bring yourself to find Farleigh as vile?

With his elbows lowered underneath the table like a good little gentleman, Farleigh lets his fingers crawl tentatively over your thigh.

The games are on.

Your heart is beating at a million miles an hour with your mind reeling at not only Farleigh's large warm palm finding its home on your ample thigh but his words.

They are in complete contrast to everything you two have experienced together thus far on your stay in Saltburn.

As his fingers inch their way towards your inner thigh you're absolutely breathless. All you can think about is your escapade in the pool the evening before.

Both Catton siblings had been immersed in a very Catton argument, leaving you and Farleigh to your own devices on the banks of the stone pool.

With both your arms leaning over the ledge of the pool and Farleigh pressed to your side, no one could barely tell that Farleigh already had two digits dipped inside your weeping cunt. His hand moved slowly and deftly, so as not to cause too much of a stir in the water and give you two away. And he did it all while leaning his free hand out of the pool, cradling his copy of Jane Eyre with his eyes glued on the pages.

"F-Fuck Farleigh, can I cum?" He sighed at your agitated state.

"Not until I'm finished with Chapter 18." He mumbled almost distractedly, as if your needy voice was something akin to a pesky fly interrupting his reading.

Chapter 18, as you'd probably guessed, had never ended.

His cousins were back from their argument and his fingers left your cunt just as quickly. You had both went back to pretending to hate each other and you were left to 'rub one out' in the safety of your room like some hormonal teenager.

You truly are furious with him.

"What's this I'm hearing about a rape whistle?" Felix pipes up from the other side of Farleigh, equally dressed up all spiffy for the Henry's "You didn't rape anyone, did you?"

Farleigh's response is more of a hiss, "Of course I didn't-"

"Surely there must be more savory topics of discussion at the dinner table other than rape?" Comes the quick mediation of Elsbeth, who sits at the head of the table, clutching her string of expensive pearls as if they weilded the power to rid her of all these insolent little kids.

"Of course there is," you exclaim before turning your head to smile at the presence beside Ventia, nestled quietly in his seat like a little pauper.

Farleigh's manicured fingernails sink half moons into the skin of your thigh, peeking up from the slit of your dress as you lean away from him and say, "You must be Oliver! It's a relief to see another commoner around here." It was so undeniably petty to weaponize Farleigh's greatest foe, but the vexation of not being made to cum the night before still hangs heavily on your shoulder. And at the end of the day, you really just were a petty bitch.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ollie!" Slightly leaning over Venetia, the boy looks pale. As if he was biting down on his words. God, his tongue must be riddled in scars.

"Pleasure to meet you." Oliver cooly mirrors the warm and inviting smile stretched across your face.

"Don't lean over me," Venetia mumbles, "I'm not a child."

Meanwhile, Farleigh scoffs once again. While he injects himself in your conversation, his hands move swiftly to cup your vagina, nearly raking a gasp out of your throat in the process. "She won't sleep with you, mate." his brown eyes are trained on Oliver's. "She's a slut but not that big of a slut."

The extreme degradation laced in Farleigh's voice is enough to have you nearly moan out in front of all your friends, their family, and all the bloody Henrys.

Farleigh knew exactly which buttons to push to have you melting catastrophically against his fingers. He knew what words could have you slipping into subspace and he knew how to get your cunt weeping.

"Jesus Christ, could we not do this right now?" Venetia asks, staring pointedly at her cousin, and not at the sight of your legs parting to further accomdate his lazy rubbing against your cunt.

"I'm sorry, Cousin," Farleigh replies, "but it's not my fault your best friend is a raging bitch."

A breathless chuckle escapes your clenched teeth, "I-I'm not a-"

"Yeah, I am so completely done with this conversation," Venitia says, before strangling the stem of her wine glass and chugging it down as if it was nothing but water.

You turn back to hiss into Farleigh's ear, "You're such an a-asshole-"

"Say that again but don't sound like you're on the verge of squirting on my fingers in the middle of dinner." His grin is shadowed by the dimness of crystal chandlier and all the little candles posted along the table. "This is what you get for being a bitch," he says, socasually it makes you break your resolve by shifting in your seat, to better grind your cunt against his fingers, even for a mere second.

It's almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

"Oh-ho!" He aims a guffaw at the sky, "You really are a needy little slut-"

"This dress is shit," you suddenly push yourself out of your chair, creating the minimal noise of wood scraping against the floors. Most eyes are on you and Farleigh slyly removes his hands from in between your thigh. He leans over the table, bringing his fingers to his lips before spreading them over his gums like you would cocaine.

"I have to go change." You say to Venetia, before promptly (and very rudely) bowing out of the dinner.

A few seconds later, you hear Farleigh mumble something about needing a smoke and your heart rattles wildly in its cage. His footsteps are brisk behind yours, and you can feel his eyes sinking into your figure.

While your feet carry you to your destination and you let your brain catch on, you're already sneaking into Farleigh's room.

"Ah! Trespasser!" He exclaims excitedly behind you, with his hands stuffed in his pocket.

"You're so fucking annoying!" Your complains barely escape your throat before he's attacking you in a sloppy, open mouth kiss. He steals the air right out of your lungs, until he's breathing for the both of you. Farleigh slips out of his Abercrombie suit blazer, discarding the material as if it truly meant nothing to him.

His hands are everywhere, with special interests in your breasts compressed tightly by the uncomfortable stitching of your dress.

"This dress..." you mumble distractedly.

"Fuck this dress." He says, and you wholeheartedly agree. Perhaps it was desperate of you to turn in haste. Lifting the ends of your hair to present the zipper to him.

"You look fucking ravenous." He admits in a grave whisper, with his lips grazing the side of your neck, "I wanna fucking eat you." He says, "I wanna be inside you."

"You have such a dirty mouth, Farleigh," the groan that escapes his throat as he zips down your dress lets you know that you may have found your way in.

As the dress spills around your heeled feet, followed by your lacey underwear, Farleigh reattaches his full lips to the skin of your back. "What did you say?" His voice is like the rough gravel encircling Saltburn and you let your eyes roll to the back of your head as you arch backwards against him. His hardness presses against your ass and your fingers weave their way into his curls.

"I said youre a dirty boy, Farleigh." He ruts against you, almost as a second thought. "A dirty fucking boy,"

"Fuck," his hands dig into your hips, rubbing you against him. All as he pleases. "Fucking, fuck. I'm not gonna cum like this-" He says suddenly before spinning you back around.

It is few and sparse moments when you're reminded just how much taller Farleigh is than you and eventide it happens, the wind is knocked out of you. Farleigh advances on you like a literal predator until you're forced to fall backwards on his bed.

He barely undoes the bowtie, and only a few buttons go loose enough to showcase the beautiful expanse of his chest.

"You're absolutely soaked aren't you?" He asks, hovering on the bed above you.

"I need to cum, Farleigh, please-" You knew it was the only way to get what you wanted. You had unashamedly resorted to begging for a man who hooked his nails into your hair, forcing you to sit upright as he parted your legs.

"Look at you," he whispers before cackling maniacally. "You're so stupidly wet, you filthy fucking girl-"

"O-oh fuck, Fuck Farleigh," Your try by all means to grind your cunt into the mattress but is doesn't happen.

"When are you going to learn that I own your orgasms?" He whispers, with his other hand furiously undoing the belt of his fitted pants. "You don't cum until I say. You don't touch yourself until I say. You don't even fucking think about cumming until I say-"

"You're such a big little baby," you spit back, "A big needy, little b-"

You're once again pushed backwards and Farleigh's mounting you with his leaking cock locked tight in his fist.

You automatically lift your legs to present your cunt to him and he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to cum inside of you." He promises.

"I want you too."

Farleigh's eyes are heavy as he slides himself inside you. He looks down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. A treasure trove.

"Fuck- I need you to carry on talking." Farleigh says before shutting his eyes tightly. "Fuck you feel so good-"

"You're doing so well, baby," his hips rut inside you, accidentally pushing his cock in way too deep, way too fast and you both hiss and moan. "Such a good boy," you say with your hair finding his own curls, "You're being such a good fucking boy, Farleigh-"

"Open your mouth," you comply robotically. Farleigh places his hands on the underside of your chin before tipping your head backwards. His chains dangle above you as you stick your tongue out and he spits directly into your mouth. "Such a slut," he says, "Such a filthy fucking good girl." His words have you grinding your cunt against his cock until soon, you're both on the precipice of cumming.

"F-Fuck-"

"Such a good girl," he whispers, with his breath ghosting yoir face and the sound of skin slapping against skin only grows louder and louder. "S-So fucking good-" He whispers over and over again until your cunt clenches around his cock, promting Farleigh's orgasm with a quickness.

His cum spilling inside you has you slipping unceremoniously into your own orgasm and Farleigh wails in both the pleasure of your cunt milking him dry, or your fingers still pulling his hair like crazy.

"Fuck!" He exclaims before slumping on the bed beside you, "Get your fingers out of my hair, you psycho-"

"You love it, though," there's a teasing lilt in your voice, and all Farleigh does is scoff before patting down the pockets of his pants.

"You give me endless reasons to smoke," he says, before tipping his head back, unknwongly leaning into your embrace as your fingers coil through his soft curls.

"You'd smoke anyway."

[heartkaji]

★ ALVINNN !! ⸺ AND THE WINBRE BOYS ?!

synopsis ୨ৎ : relationship dynamics i think the winbre boys would have based on the chipmunks & chipettes

notes ୨ৎ : had this idea while rewatching alvin & the chip-munks with my baby brother </3 missed this show sm

❤︎ TOGAME JO — SIMON & JEANETTE

stay with me here.

i don’t mean simon & jeanette in the sense that two of you are nerds or anything. when i think simon and jeanette, i think emotionally mature simon and anxious girlfriend jeanette who’s always in need of simon’s reassurance ( they’re so cute i want to eat them )

it’s like that with you and jo. togame is more mature and the bigger person in every situation. he never lets you two go to bed angry, and he’ll appologize first, even in times when he thinks he’s not in the wrong. togame also NEVER raises his voice. never ever. i can’t imagine him & yelling in the same sentence. so even in heated arguments where you’re screaming and crying with mascara running down your cheeks togame stays gentle and quiet, fingers pressed into his palm so tight he’s nearly bleeding because god you’re crying and he has no fucking idea what he can say to help you calm down. he doesn’t even care about what you guys were fighting about anymore, he just needs you to feel better. ( GODDDD WHERE IS MY TOGAME 😭⁉️)

anxious attachment girlies your time has come

with togame your anxiety is never triggered. you have his location and all his passwords, and he’s 100% not the kind of guy who asks for yours in return. he also calls you to let you know when he’ll be running late. i wish i could lie and tell you he doesn’t leave you on read, but he canonically doesn’t text. he has a custom ringtone just for your contact though, so often times he’ll call you in response or send you a voice message. either way you’ll get some kind of answer, togame isn’t into ignoring you in any shape or form.

NEVER EVER disrespects you, and I’m not talking verbal disrespect or anything like that. i mean togame doesn’t like pictures of any woman other than you on his instagram, doesn’t borrow girls his jacket even to be polite, doesn’t help them pay—he’s your walking wallet only. he would never ever be caught dead doing anything that could cause someone to mistake him as being close to any girl other than you. he’s so perfect it’s insane.

togame also isn’t into playing games. he communicates anything and everything he’s uncomfortable with and sets boundaries in the sweetest possible manner. “i dont like it when you do that, baby. you can do this instead, okay ?” he says all of this while thumbing your cheek and pressing his lips to your forehead . he encourages you to commmunicate with him as well. if you’re more on the shy side and struggle with setting boundaries, it’s cool because togame does it for you. if he does something and notices a change in your demeanor, he makes a mental note to never do it again. he doesn’t voice out his observations though, he knows you so he knows your first reaction would be to deny that you’re uncomfortable. when it comes to communication, he’ll never press you, but he always makes it clear that he’s ready to listen when you’re ready to talk.

boyfriend rating : ∞/10 ; better not break up with him, this man is one in a billion.

❤︎ AKIHIKO NIREI — THEODORE & ELEANOR

i think this was very obvious LMAOO

i feel like a lot of people think of theo and eleanor as the sunshine duo, but theodore is actually pretty soft and shy. the dynamic between them is much like i described for simon and jeanette, except here the roles are reversed.

theodore is extremely talented, has lots of potential really, but is always putting himself down, much like nirei. you play eleanor, always encouraging nirei to think better of himself and put himself out there, even when he thinks it’s a terrible idea.

i feel nirei, like theodore, always overcompensates. i mean he feels he’s not worthy of you so he always goes out of his way to make you a little something, give you a little gift, just anything to make him feel like he’s not dead weight tying you down in this relationship with him. he’ll never tell you he feels this way & so you’ll never know & be able to reassure him or tell him otherwise, but when you smile with blood tinged nose and kiss his cheeks in appreciation like he’s the only boy on earth, he thinks that’s all the reassurance he needs.

if you have avoidant attachement issues i am respectfully asking you to stay the hell away from him. HE CANNOT HANDLE IT. your constant hot and cold drives him crazy and affects him more than the average person. nirei is someone who loves and feels deeply. he’ll overthink even the smallest things, whether that’s you leaving him on read or a comment about how clingy he is. like i said nirei overcompensates, so when he’s more comfortable in the relationship he gets very affectionate; not in terms of physical touch ( he still needs you to initiate that most of the time, the best he can give by himself are hugs ) but in terms of words of affirmation, acts of service and gift giving. if you comment on how he’s been doing too much for you these days, even if you’re speaking from a place of ’you’re doing so much for me, you should take some time for yourself’, he’ll misinterpret it as you getting sick of him. he tries to tone his acts of affection down, but then he’s plagued with the fear of you leaving him because he’s not doing enough. it’s an endless cycle :( my poor baby please treat him well </3

boyfriend rating : 5.5/10. i fear his insecurity & trouble comunicating makes dating him difficult, and his constant need for reassurance can get suffocating.

❤︎ ENDO YAMATO — ALVIN & BRITTANY

when i think alvin and brittany i think teasing ( but whipped ) boyfriend and done with his antics girlfriend.

that’s you and endo one hundred percent. endo yamoto is always up to no good, making cheeky comments or hiding your stuff just to rile you up and get a reaction out of you. you’re so fucking done with him—you don’t even know why you’re still dating this bastard but on midsummer days when endo decides to be more boy less devil you’re reminded ( just a little ) of why you love him.

endo yamoto has his sweet moments. of course it’s obvious he worships you like a god, but you often forget because of his troublesome nature. endo yamato is always thinking of you. it’s evident in how he always comes home with one or two trinkets that reminded him of you, whether it’s something he saw in the window of an antique shop or a pretty rock with colors that match your eyes.

endo is also very clingy. when you’re doing your makeup, getting ready to go out, endo tugs you out of your vanity chair and sits down so he can pull you into his lap, arms snug around your waist as he buries his nose into your neck. the feeling of his breath warm against your shoulder blades is distracting and it’s even worse when he’s dragging his lips across your skin. you knock his head with a makeup brush to get him to pull away even if just for a second, but he only responds with a grunt before his palm trails it’s way up & under your shirt.

yeah, he’s fucking impossible.

but it’s endearing. also did i mention he’s constantly teasing you ? he’s your own personal bully. but god forbid someone tries to make a fool out of you. if it’s a girl, he hurls the most gruesome insults he can think of, and if it’s a guy, lets just say the local hospital is gonna be taking in one more patient tonight ( he is UNHINGED, but we love him regardless )

boyfriend rating : 7/10. he’s a good boyfriend, but can get pretty possessive and extreme sometimes. also he often hurts your feelings on accident </3

© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

[gr1mstar]

heyy can i request a LnD and how the boys will react if them and the reader are in a heated argument, and they accidentally said something extremely hurtful to the reader, which made the reader cry? thank youu

OH, SHIT…

notes: of course. sorry for the long wait, love. ❤️ at first i tried to make is like a story, but i changed my mind and so because you did specify what exactly you want (headcanons, oneshots, etc) i decided to make it this way.

contains: love and deepspace boys x reader, crying, mean words, reaction, angst, strong language.

ZAYNE

at first he didn’t realise what he had done, but realisation hit him when he saw your tears.

“sweetheart, you know i didn’t mean tha-“

he didn’t really get to continue his conversation because of a slap he received from you. he was shocked, eyes wide and mouth open.

“just shit the fuck up, zayne. i do not need your ‘medical advice’ again” you said, making your way outside his office.

and so you refused to answer his calls, texts, facetimes all day, staying in your apartment crying.

after his shift, he regretted all his actions and how he made you cry. the stress and anxiety got the best of him, and so he decided to surprise you with some flowers and chocolate, making his way home ready for another slap and to give some explanation.

“i really, really hate you” you too him, looking at the chocolate he got for you, too angry to eat them.

“i know. i’m sorry. it’s not going to happen again, i promise.”

RAFAYEL

when the first tears appeared on your face, he knew he was fucked. he didn’t really mean what he said, the deadline of his painting stressing him out.

he said your name, putting the paintbrush down and looking at you, with fear in your eyes. ‘i fucked up. they are angry’ he thought, trying to make the distance between you two a little bit shorter.

“just… i’m going to leave. if i’m so annoying to listen, then i’m shutting up and leaving. have a great day, rafayel.”

and so he was left alone, with an unfinished painting and tears in his eyes, thinking that the fucked up his relationship with you.

later in the day, when he made a plan to win you over he called you, asking where you are and what are you doing. he surprised you with something, apologising and saying he was an idiot for snapping at you.

“i love you, darling. you know i need you like a fish needs water.”

XAVIER

two stubborn people. he was wrong, he didn’t really want to say it out loud. seeing you tears after, he realised he fucked up and all his thoughts vanished in a moment.

“baby. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean-“

“no. xavier… just. go back.” you told him, leaving him behind in the forest, looking for wanderers.

“no” he shouted back, running after and you taking your hand. “i didn’t mean that.”

“you did. you just said it. that i’m not good enough? that i’m not a good hunter? i should quit?”

“no. fuck.” he said, taking your face in his hand. “i’m just worried.”

“you don’t have trust in me. i hate it, xavier.” was your response, not wanting to look at his eyes.

and so you had a serious conversation in the woods, xavier apologizing and explaining why he is worried. in a way, you understood him, but you didn't want to think that you were a weak hunter.

"i love you. i'm just worried about you."

[creepswrites]

Hi, I just read your hcs about reader struggling with anxiety and depression, it was really great! I am also sorry you're going through tough times rn, I really really hope you'll feel better soon. Tbh I've been going through something myself and reading the Sinclair brothers' hcs, it reminded me of an idea I've wanted to eequest for a long while. I would like to request for the Siclair brothers (separately) x gn!reader headcanons where the reader struggles with mental health issues, but since they don't really leave Ambrose they can't get to their medication. How would they approach the brothers about it, would they hide it, how would the brothers react, you know.

Of course you can work on this when you feel like it, if you're not feeling like it with what's going on in your life. Or scrap the idea altogether, or add whoever you want. Thank you so much for letting me get my thoughts out tho <3 You are valid. You are loved. You are seen.

thank you for the kind wishes, i do appreciate it :) i tried to keep this relatively inclusive as to what exactly reader is suffering from but some stuff may be a lil specific. and don't worry, writing helps distract me so i'm happy to do this <3

SINCLAIR BROTHERS x GN! READER WHO NEEDS THEIR MEDICATION

BO SINCLAIR

You absolutely tried to hide it at first. How could you not?

Bo wasn't exactly... understanding about that kind of thing

I mean, you've seen how he acts with Vincent sometimes and thats his own brother. You don't want to imagine how he'd treat you if he knew...

But you knew the longer you went without your prescriptions, the more difficult things would get

It started small. Your moods would change randomly and very drastically - one extreme to another or you'd have trouble sleeping or oversleeping or - your least favorite - you'd lash out at one of the brothers for seemingly nothing

Bo noticed. He didn't say anything about it because he assumed that, if it was that important, you'd tell him

So when you had a full on meltdown on the kitchen floor one afternoon, he was blindsided

He had no idea it'd gotten this bad and, unfortunately, his first reaction was to get mad at you. He yelled at you, tried to get you to pull yourself together. After all, if you had been suffering, you would've told him! Right...?

It's not until your crying abruptly stops that he realizes he fucked up. You shut down on him, near catatonic as he tries to apologize

He's scared. And when he's scared, he lashes out. You know that. It still doesn't make it hurt less

The brothers agree that there needs to be regular trips made so you can get your medication. Lester offers to take you since he's the one who goes to town the most anyways

You and Bo get into an argument about it once or twice because he doesn't understand why you wouldn't tell him

His heart breaks a little when you tell him you didn't think he'd believe you or would look at you differently for it

He reassures you that no, never. He totally understands the moodswings, the angry episodes you have, those things

Once you're on your meds again, you two promise that if anything major like this happens for either of you, that you can always lean on each other

Bo takes time getting there but he grows to understand you and figure out how best to help you!

VINCENT SINCLAIR

You tell Vincent pretty early on that you need medication

While you don't give him many specifics as to why, you tell him that life will be better for all of you if you keep taking them

At first he's a little apprehensive of letting you go into town so Bo goes with you to pick it up

Not because he doesn't believe you! But because he's scared you're still trying to escape

He wants to know what they're for so he's not above snooping around to read the labels

(You'd tell him if he asked but he didn't know that)

The amount you take surprises him and he tries to think about what you're like off them, in a morbidly curious way

He is, however, insistent that you're taking them consistently and without interruption. Vince makes sure you take them every day and gets on his brother's cases if they give you a hard time about it

They're not cures though. You both find that out the hard way when he finds you trembling in the corner of his shop like you were in freezing weather. The panic attack was violent and took you by surprise but Vincent holds steady

He sits with you, humming soft melodies to try and ground you

When you're ready, he hugs you and you just break down into tears. You'd never wanted him to have to see you like this, you don't want him to think you're some fragile china doll who can't take care of themself

But he would never see you like that. You explain that, while the meds make them less frequent, you're not cured completely

Things will slip through the cracks sometimes and that's okay! He'll always be there when you need him

When he catches you scratching yourself anxiously, he buys you gloves and makes sure you keep your nails short

He catches you picking at your face and gets you small bandages you can place over the spots so you don't obsessively pick

Vincent is always doing little things to try and improve your quality of life, even if you're taking medication!

LESTER SINCLAIR

You don't really tell him but you also don't hide it from him either

He notices you taking pills every morning and every night and is able to put two and two together

Probably asks you what they're for once you two have been dating for a bit but it doesn't really change much in your relationship

He's relatively chill about it though and offers to take you into town to pick up your meds

Likes to hoard pills for you so you never run out - it's an irrational fear of his but you think its sweet

Whenever you get sad, Jonesy and Lester are both right there to comfort you however you need

Sometimes, when the bad thoughts get too loud, Lester catches you staring vacantly into the bathroom mirror or out windows and he worries

One night you wandered out into the woods, barefoot and freezing, just because you felt so out of touch with your own body

Everything felt fake and floaty and you just needed to be out somewhere harsh and grounding and real

You love Lester, you really do, but there, in the forest all alone, all you could think about was how empty you felt

He finds you early the next morning and he was clearly worried sick, still in his sleep clothes with just a flashlight and an anxious Jonesy

Once at home and warm from your shower, he pleads with you to talk to him about it

You finally spill about how you've felt completely dissociated from yourself, even with all the meds you're taking, and it just got to be too much

He gives you a hug and you both agree to try and find other ways to shock you back to reality that don't involve you wandering into the forest at night

Turns out, an ice cube on the back of the neck works wonders to snap you out of whatever stupor you've found yourself in!

Lester is as involved with it as you'd let him. Never ashamed or afraid to lend you a hand with anything!

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ OUR HEARTS BEAT TOGETHER — how they react to seeing your self harm scars

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick

warnings. sfw, fem!reader, self harm (on thighs), mental health issues, pre-established relationships

⤷ simon 'ghost' riley

you're lying in bed, your body draped over his and his hand idly tracing patterns on the back of your thigh. it's a lazy saturday night in, and you're both content to just lay down and enjoy each other's company.

turning, trying to dig yourself even closer to simon and get comfier, your sleep shorts ride up without you realising.

when simon's hand moves up to continue his patterns, he pauses when he runs his fingers over raised skin. thin, scarred skin -- the kind that would be extremely hard for an enemy to cause.

"princess?" his voice rumbles, a sleepy lilt to his tone as a crease forms between his eyebrows.

your eyes go wide, and anxiety grips your throat like a merc's hand. mouth falling open to say something, anything, you find yourself mute.

his other hand comes up to rest at the back of your head, a comforting weight as his hand continues to trace over the newly found scars.

"tell me," he says, imploring. not quite a demand, but not a request, either.

with a tremble, you move to wrap your smaller hand over his much larger one, stilling his movements. working your mouth over the syllables, you manage out a weak, "i haven't done it since i joined the 141."

his stiffened muscles ease, if only slightly. his breath comes out in a deep, unsteady exhale as he slowly nods.

"you didn't tell me," he murmurs. just a statement, not a judgement, or an accusation. just the truth.

"didn't want to scare you off," you admit, and the truth is poisonous on your tongue. "didn't know how to bring it up."

his hand starts playing with your hair, gently urging you to rest your head back against his neck. he runs warm, and the contact gives you some much needed relief.

"'m not sure what to say," he says, slowly, carefully. he weighs the words in his mouth before he continues, his voice unusually hesitant. "jus' know i love you, princess. no matter what."

a gentle smile creeps up onto your face as you press a light kiss on the skin behind his ear. "love you, simon."

he gently pulls your sleep shorts down, and those words ring undeniably true.

⤷ johnny 'soap' mactavish

with a huff of annoyance, you plant your hand on the counter in front of you and rise to the tips of your toes, reaching with your right hand for the jar of cookies on top of the shelf in front of you. it's a pointless effort, considering your height, and how tall johnny's put the cookies.

bastard. he did this on purpose, you knew it.

"johnny!" you yell out, annoyance evident in his tone. if it were any other situation, you'd find it hilarious how he rushes into the kitchen, eyes wide. he knew he was in deep shit from your voice alone.

"baby...?" he asks, a nervous grin plastered on his face. somehow, he makes even that look charming.

it just serves to piss you off more.

you turn around, and repeat the actions you were doing before, emphasising your point. "look what you've done! now i can't even eat cookies in peace," you huff out, reaching for them yet again to no avail.

he's silent behind you, and you get back down to your feet with an eyeroll as you turn around, ready to chew him out.

however, you stop yourself, when you meet his blue eyes.

they're filled to the brim with sadness, and confusion, and worry. your mouth runs before you can stop it. "look, i'm not actually mad, it's honest cute but--"

he cuts you off as he pulls you into a soft, gentle kiss. it's the kind of kiss he gives you before a mission, or after an argument, or after something's made you cry. so what...

he pulls away, eyes searching your face for what, you weren't sure.

"i love you," he says, voice steady but weak in a way johnny's never was. "i wish you'd told me, i'd never've cared, baby, yer still stunnin'."

your mouth drops open, eyes becoming glassy. you were an idiot, really, wearing those shorts and reaching up like that. hadn't thought, hadn't used your brain.

"i..." you start, but find yourself not being able to finish the sentence. his hands come up to wipe underneath your eyes, face distressed but so caring. so loving.

"i'm sorry," you mumble, unsure.

he shakes his head immediately. "no. never be sorry, baby, 'm not mad, jus' worried."

and that hurts. it truly, really hurts, but he presses his lips against your shut eyes, presses his lips underneath them, too. he pulls you in, his head resting on your shoulder and arms wrapped tight around you.

"'m never lettin' you go. never. the day i do, i'll be in the ground."

⤷ kyle 'gaz' garrick

you're laying on the couch sideways, your feet in kyle's lap as he gently paints your toenails. you'd won a bet earlier that day about price, and you were ringing in your payment happily.

although he pretended to be annoyed, it was fairly obvious that he was enjoying giving you princess treatment.

his tongue sticks out a little bit from the corner of his mouth, eyes focused on applying the nail polish as carefully and nicely as possible. you can't help but think about how lucky you were, having him as your partner. having him to love.

your eyes flutter closed, your knees straightening out from where they had been bent, to fully relax and enjoy the comforting position and moment.

they snap back open, however, when you realise that he's stopped painting them.

"done?" you ask, cheerful and grinning like the idiot in love you were.

you watch as kyle swallows, adam's apple bobbing. he shakes his head, brows furrowed and mouth pulled into a tight, grim line.

"what... what happened?" he asks, voice cracking slightly.

you tilt your head to the side, before it hits you.

looking down, you can see the scars under the living room light, and it makes your heart skip a beat. you'd been so careful, so cautious of him not seeing them.

he takes your silence as the answer it is, and his large hand grips both of your ankles in it, a comforting yet possessive presence.

"can we talk about it?" he asks, searching your eyes and expression for permission. it breaks your heart, shattering it on the surface like an ice rink in november.

you nod, a sharp movement of your head, and he exhales quietly, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

when he meets your eyes yet again, it's with a warm determination.

"if you ever feel like you need to do it again, or you're struggling, talk to me, my love. please. i'm here for a reason. cut me if you need to, or cry on my shoulder if it helps. just please, don't hurt yourself."

the earnestness, the cautious and adoring tone, it has your face crumpling and tears falling down your cheeks.

in one moment, you're falling apart, and in the next, you're seated in his lap, and he's putting you back together again.

with scarred hands and tender touches.

a/n. veryyy self indulgent. might add more characters later, was gonna do price but was struggling with the scenario. if any of you guys have any ideas pls comment or send in an ask!! thank you for the reception of the other fics, especially considering they were my first cod pieces ever!!! love you all x

[seneon]

SAVIOUR OF NIGHTMARES ──── rin itoshi × fem! reader

about. in which, a consumer of nightmares saves the delver. made in abyss! au. reader is half-narehate (hollow). ooc rin. kind of fluff. wc of 900+

notes. ( wrote this back in june during my made in abyss hyperfixation ) anyways i love mia and belaf and and and. tagging @sweetheartsaku, @anqelically, @choccorin !!

nightmares. something that he always has. not even in a blue moon or occasionally, but almost every day. every day of his life the moment he shuts his eyes, it is as if a nightmare demon has favoured him and punctured the idea of horrifying dreams into the mind.

not a single day passes without a single speck of a blood-curdling image just roaming around at the back of his mind, awaiting to display like an inescapable horror movie.

in those nightmares, itoshi rin sometimes dreams of the worst possible outcome of the pit, the abyss. but mostly and the worst of all, his brother. as a delver of the black whistle, he fears almost nothing, except for the end of himself failing to his brother.

of course, you need no fear of being at the level of a white whistle. just like his brother. rin only exists to beat his brother, even if sae has gotten a white whistle a few years ago, rin still did not receive one.

it only meant that rin isn't at that level of his brother yet. his brother who has travelled with the most legendary delvers like ozen the immovable, or lyza the annihilator. rin was tempted to descend into a white whistle.

little did the itoshi know, his dreams and goals would only steer further away from him as his nightmares grew worse and worse every night. even now— as his mind swirled with the darkest days where he had a conflict with his brother. an argument that would change rin to be the way he is.

he still dreams of it until this day. even if the younger itoshi’s inner feelings say otherwise, his feelings of hatred are more prominent than the ones of love and affection. that was how horrible it has become until his hatred has formed into a demon in his mind that vomits nightmares into rin.

the delver shifted in his sleeping mattress, sweat already formed from the anxiety that his mind played through. his closed eyelids would occasionally move, eyebrows scrunching in a sense of pain.

“i can save you from your nightmares,” a feminine voice called through the audio of the horror playthrough, as rin remained silent. “just give me a little love.”

huh?

give who a little love?

who is speaking to rin?

“i can help you tonight, and every other night. you just have to give me your love in return.”

tempting, but extremely suspicious. is this another dream trying to coexist with his nightmare about his elder brother? is this possible? a mysterious voice that blocks out all other noises and only speaks to rin himself.

it doesn't matter, rin needed the hellish punishments of a nightmare to cease at this moment. so he agreed, even if he didn't know how to agree with him, the voice responded to him and he could physically feel as if his dreams were being lifted from the insides of his brains.

then, cold yet gentle fingers touched the skin of the itoshi, gently cupping his face to caress his soft skin. you then leaned down on the sleeping form of the delver and placed a soft kiss onto his lips. pulling away not to be distracted by anything else, you placed your forehead on his as your noses touched.

rin felt a cool air on his forehead. it slowly seeped into his forehead and sunk into his mind, giving his mind a place of peace. it was like all his bad memories and all the nightmares he has to sleep through has been frozen by the cool air just as it was all replaced with utter calmness instead of calamity.

for the first time in years, he finally had peace while his eyes were shut. his eyelids weren't shaking or struggling to keep awake or fall asleep into hell, but they were still and peaceful.

you watched in curiousity at the human male, a delver with a black whistle. you wondered, why is he not a white whistle yet? he is already in such a deep layer into the abyss. someone with his survivor skill is bound to own a white whistle.

at least, that's what you knew from the previous white whistle delvers that you've met along the way. you shifted rin’s messy bangs. but the moment you pull your hands away from his face, he grabs your hand gently.

“is it you? the one who punctured peace into my mind.”

you nodded. “i only consumed your nightmares because you consented to it.”

rin’s teal eyes looked up at your hovering form. still in a sluggish state, he scans your being. he couldn't tell if you are human or a creature of the abyss, for he is only focused on one thing.

“you are so beautiful... ” he said, letting go of your hands to shift them to your face. “you are my saviour, aren't you?”

as a narehate, you felt yourself blushing at the human teenager who held your face in his own arms. his voice and words too, were hypnotising, as if they were coated in honey and you are a bee not resisting them.

this human, a black whistle delver, itoshi rin, he's yours. yours the moment you laid your eyes on him through the force fields of the abyss as you watched him ventured until this layer. it was simply fate that brought the two of you together.

rin was even willing to love you for an eternity and become a narehate himself if you'll prevent and save him from having hellish nightmares. even if you become a white instrument for the male, he'll do anything for you.

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

How does Minotaur!Konig handle an argument with his wife/his wife being upset with him? He clearly avoids making her upset as much as possible because he loves her and only wants to see her happy, and she loves and accepts him as he is, quirks and all so I don't really see them getting into fights but maybe he gets way too reactive and violent with someone in town over a perceived slight and she gives him the silent treatment on the way home or something. I feel like he'd be so sad even if she only didn't talk to him for like an hour 😞 I can also see his insecurities/abandonment issues coming into play, he starts overthinking and makes it a whole big thing in his head and meanwhile she's already forgetting that she was even upset with him. These are just my thoughts but maybe you have something else in mind/see it playing out differently!

Yes absolutely!!

Minotaur!König cannot cope with this shit at all. The last time he did something “bad” ended in him being thrown into a cold, dark Labyrinth. Even as a grown man he goes straight into survival mode if he sees that he has somehow disappointed his beloved 💔

His wife knows how König is so it would take a lot for her to visibly show she’s upset with him. Our bull tries to avoid chaos as best he can which means arguments between these two are extremely rare — but they do happen! Because one thing you must know about all versions of König is that they think they’re always right. Minotaur!König is just as thick headed as the rest of them so if he thinks that “his cause is just” then he will stand his ground no matter what. He will claim that water is wine if he thinks it’s so!

Some petty perceived insult directed at his wife could get him riled very easily, could get them both into trouble because König won't cool down before he’s drawn blood. He wants to give this poor soul's head to his wife, on a plate if possible, and if he can’t do that the tension just won’t go away. How can life go on if he hasn’t done what’s right??

She has to guide König in social situations and explain later what it was all about, what different phrases mean and how he can’t just kill people if they don’t behave the way he wants them to. In some ways, she knows she is dealing with a child and has to be patient, how could this poor man know how to behave when he lived underground all those years? All he was taught was that he’s evil, unwanted and ugly, so the last thing she wants to do is hurl blame at him and scream. Silent treatment would totally be one of her ways to show him he didn’t get points home this time, but for König even the tiniest distancing looks like she’s abandoning him. Throwing him mentally into a tiny tiny Labyrinth, telling him he’s not wanted, that he’ll never be loved :(

And poor König doesn’t know what to do and how to be, for a while the anxiety threatens to take over. He reaches for her hand, then pulls away fearing she doesn’t want to be touched. He tries to talk, but nothing comes out because he doesn’t entirely understand what he should apologise for. He stands in the middle of the room and watches her blow air on the coals and just go on about her day, thinking that the time has finally come when she tells him to get out of the house.

It takes years before König takes the initiative in reconciling because he simply doesn’t know how to do it. Blunt, pained statements such as “Are you upset with me,” and “You’re disappointed in me” are common before he learns that the world is not going to end even if they’re not happy with each other all the time. His wife is usually the one who comes to him and says that everything is okay and that she was only upset with what he did, not with who he is.

Just imagine this adorable goof being both stubborn in his "I don’t have to say I’m sorry" policy and crippled by his "Are you going to abandon me" fear 💔 How can you even be angry at this man? There’s no chance, especially when he’s a jerk only once or twice a year 🩷🦬

[famemonsterrr]

Astrological observations part 4. 🪽

- Virgo placements judge everything and everyone around them. Even their loved ones and they will say "well I care for u that’s why I point out your flaws so you can change them and be BETTER”

- Has any taurus ever apologised?

- Leo and libra are the type of people that when u talk to them. They would look in the mirror or taking photos of themselves (as a Leo rising I do that quite a lot but I promise I listen anyway)

- fire mars are really athletic and they have a lot of energy.

- I have noticed that if u talk with mutable signs they tend to jump from one conversation to another or talk about 100 stuff at once. Especially Gemini.

- Pisces placements make someone extremely sentimental.

- if you think that cardinal signs are the unpredictable then you are so wrong that’s the mutable😁

- air and earth Mercuries give the best insults.

- the 8th house placements can make someone really strong and “rise like a Phoenix” mentality. They might have a lot of struggles but they getting stronger.

- when u argue with a Pisces there is 100% chance they pretend to care but inside they laughing their ass off with ur anger.

- mutable signs tend to listen to every single music genre exist. 🫶🏻

- I have noticed Leo are easy to be pissed off.

- can someone tell me why Gemini sun/ placements always look so youthful not matter how old they are?

- Leo,Aquarius,Taurus and Scorpio are untouchable💅🏻

- Leo and Pisces are meant to be together✨Pisces compliments and adores Leo so on the other side Leo will give them sooo much love and special treatment which Pisces will die for. Unless one of them becomes attached or toxic.

- if an Aquarius man approached u first but then stopped talking to you. Just so u know you didn’t do nothing wrong they are the problem babe. They do it to everyone that’s why the are single or they waiting for their special Leo.

- Leo and Capricorn love wealth but in different ways. Leo wants to flex but Capricorn worked hard and building an empire.

- speaking of Leo so much…LEO RISING ATTRACT JEALOUSY. I have seen a lot of people with this rising not been treated right because people don’t like them for whatever reason.

- Capricorns age like fine wine. The kind of people who didn’t peaked in high school they are still out here getting cuter. 💅🏻

- you want a parent that will support you no matter what? Get a Leo mother. They are insane but if someone say anything about you. Be ready to see ur mother beating everyones asses.

- fire signs are the most unhinged.

- earth signs are the least unhinged.

- if there was an argument with all the zodiac signs. Fire signs would be the ones who will scream and make everyone think that they started it. Water signs might participate or just zoomed out. Air signs are the ones who started it because they triggered the fire signs and earth signs they just laughing.

- want good advice? Earth signs. You want a good listener? water signs. You want confident baddie energy? Fire signs. You want a fun relaxing time? Air signs.

- Capricorn x Scorpio placements make someone who is goal oriented not matter if they dying from anxiety or difficulties. They will get what they want🤌🏻

- Aries women are BADDIES 💅🏻

That’s all 🪽

Thank u for reading so far. I’m really so greatful for that 🫶🏻🥰 stay healthy and hydrated 🥰🫶🏻

[kenziebluex]

The Broken Heart That Makes Us

Story Description: 

Your arranged marriage is on its last legs. After making an agreement with your step son, Megumi, you are puzzled when you are faced with finally making a decision.

Your whole life so far has been planned for you, leading you to struggle with the idea of moving on and finding something stable…someone stable.  

Will you finally be able to let go of the life that was made for you? Will there be others out there willing to pick up the pieces?

(18+) Pairings: Toji, Goji, Geto, Nanami, & Choso.

Chapter 1:

“Mom” Megumi said, knocking me out of my own thoughts.

“Are you okay?” 

That question was a hard one to answer. Leave it to Megumi to read me like the back of a book. We are currently on the way home after you picked him up from Jujutsu High. His last class ended at 4 and unfortunately you  didn’t make it to pick him up until 4:30. You got stuck in traffic after having a long argument with his father. If you were counting you  would say that it’s the 10th argument you have had with him this week and it’s only Wednesday

Releasing a quiet sigh you put on the same mask you always wear for Megumi.

“Yea I’m okay, how was class today?” you quickly reply, giving him your biggest smile while nudging his arm from the driver's seat. Since he recently turned 14 years old you have allowed him to sit in the passenger seat from time to time. Mostly when you pick him up from school so the other students don’t find some reason to pick on him. Megumi isn’t the most social so you do everything in your power to not be that embarrassing mom that refuses to let their kid grow up. If it was up to you he would be 14 years old forever.

 “Good..” he answered hesitantly like he had more to say. You can see him chewing on the string of his hoodie, something you know he does when he's nervous. 

“Anything else?” you question hoping he will give you a hint as to what he's thinking about. You never push but right now you are worried it’s something serious. 

“I have a tournament on Friday at 6pm.” Megumi muttered quietly.

You let out a sigh in relief that it isn’t bad news. He had you worried there for a second. Megumi has been in martial arts since he was 12 years old. You were hesitant to let him join at first but realized that you did feel better with the thought of him being able to defend himself. He fell in love with the sport and since then you have been his number one supporter attending all his events and taking him to all his practices. 

“You remember what we talked about right mom,,..I just need to know if you are serious because I am?” suddenly you begin to feel uneasy. You hadn't forgotten but maybe you just pushed it down so you wouldn’t have to think about it. You and him had an agreement, both of you frustrated with the treatment they were receiving from his father.

It wasn’t an easy decision and you have been putting it off for over 4 years now. That was until it started affecting Megumi's mental health a few years ago. Megumi was diagnosed with acute depression and was placed on small doses of medication to help with his anxiety. While he got the help he needed from a psychologist you still haven’t done your part and you knew what needed to be done.

“If he doesn’t come we have to move on.” Megumi whispered and you could feel him looking at you from the passenger seat.

Flashback

You can remember the day clearly. The day you were set to be wed to Toji Fushiguro.  When you got the call from your parents it was October 20th and you were walking into work. That morning you recall the leaves were falling from the trees at an extreme pace as the wind picked up rapidly around you.

Entering the office you were met by numerous stares and hushed whispers. You couldn’t make out many of the words but you remember hearing “married” and “Fushiguro”. You remember thinking to yourself that Fushiguro was the last name of the mafia leaders that your dad just represented in court. Your firm had managed to secure this case and it was an important one to a lot of important people. This was a case that went on for a year and lucky your firm was able to win. You didn’t think your parents would be alive right now if they failed. Even so you had no idea why everyone was looking at you.

Your questions were answered as soon as you walked into your fathers office. You were met with not only your parents but 2 middle aged men in suits along with a small boy that couldn’t be older than 12. 

You recognized the men as Toji Fushiguro and his father who you could recall having the last name Zenin. You only recognise them because they were a part of the many mafia leaders on trial that got off. You were aware of Toji having a son, who you assumed was the small boy standing next to him. 

Toji was nice to look, 6'2 but his height wasn't what you were focused on at the moment. It was his almost perfect face.

“Excuse me dad, you called me into your office, did you need something?.” you cut to the chase feeling uncomfortable standing in the room. You felt as though you were interrupting an important conversation and didn’t understand why your dad would call you into his office early in the morning. 

“Yes, gentlemen this is my lovely daughter I was telling you about” my dads voice boomed in the room as he guided me to sit in an open chair facing Toji. You could already tell by your fathers  voice he was coming up with some terrible idea. You were used to him trying to be flashy and show off to his colleagues and clients so you figured this time was no different. 

“Does she know about the agreement?” Toji said with a look not fazed by my fathers antics. 

“What agreement?” I said slightly, raising my voice looking to my father for an answer. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Toji shaking his head and his father looking unamused.

“Watch your mouth.” my father started his explanation. “You are to be wed to Toji, we have entered an arrangement with the Fushiguro/Zenin mafia. In exchange for winning the case his son would give us the honor of marrying my only daughter. We also will be greatly compensated for entering the family.” 

If you had a bottle of water you would drink it just to spit it out.

“Like hell I am” you said laughing while sitting in the chair holding your stomach from laughing so hard. What did he think this was some fucked up mafia romance novel. You knew your father was crazy but not this crazy. 

It took you a minute to recover from that mini laugh session. Tears of laughter were falling from your face. You felt a tap when you recovered that caused you to look up. You were met by the small boy in front of you holding out a water bottle. 

“My mom used to give me water when I would cry” he said in a quiet tone. 

“Thank you… what’s your name?” you said, taking the water from his hands gently. He looked very timed and you felt as though you didn't want to frighten him. 

“Megumi” he whispered while moving to stand back beside his dad. 

“Daughter, I'm serious. You are 20 years old and never had a boyfriend. You had your choice to marry wealthy. Our family could benefit substantially from this ordeal, plus you will also be greatly compensated.” my dad said with a stern voice. I used to be scared when he would use that tone of voice. You went to interject and curse him out but his next words stopped you in your tracks.

“I’m not giving you a choice here, the papers have already been signed”

What does he mean the papers have already been signed. The last time you remember signing anything was several days ago when he asked you to sign an agreement paper for him….

“You said that paperwork was so I can take lead on the next case” you said feeling deceived and knew you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up of your father seeing your true potential. 

“Technically you will still be lead on the next case” your father said chuckling to himself. 

At this point you were left speechless. You didn’t know what to do. 

You thought of crying, thought of yelling, hell you even thought of throwing something in the room. You looked around at your surroundings but stopped when you landed on Megumi's face. 

He looked terrified. Why did he look terrified?

It hit you as soon as the question popped in your brain. He was terrified of you. Megumi was scared of how you would react and for some reason you didn’t want him to be scared of you. 

Taking a deep breath you addressed the room at once. Your tone of voice cold and stern.

“When?”

Flashback Over

Since that day you and Megumi have been joint at the hip. You got married to Toji 6 years ago and the marriage has been one of the hardest things you have gone through in your 26 years of life. 

You were wed by the end of the week after having that meeting in your fathers office. The wedding was a large wedding with over 300 guests that you didn’t know. At the time you didn’t know just how wealthy the Fushiguro/Zenin mafia was but you found out that day. The venue was decorated beautifully and the itinerary was laid out nicely even though you had no say in any of the schedule or the  decorations. You were practically treated as a guest at your own wedding. 

The Zenin’s provided you with a money compensation that you have kept saved away and have only spent on Megumi’s education. You enrolled him in the finest institution to make up for the fact that he had to deal with this fucked up situation. 

Now that you think back on everything it happened so fast and life has passed you by quickly. You were still married to Toji and living in his two bedroom apartment with Megumi. Toji managed to blow through his money gambling resulting in you guys downsizing in the last few years. You offered to pay for a better living arrangement but he declined your offer. He said he preferred smaller living. 

Not that it mattered because he doesn’t return home most of the time and if he does it’s late at night. Even though Toji’s family has money and you were both compensated for the arrangement he continuously blames you and Megumi for him not being able to ‘work’. You know what he means when he says ‘work’ and you suspect that he is already taking up odd jobs which has resulted in more arguments this week. 

Focusing back to the present you realize that you have arrived home. The lights are on so you assume Toji is still inside and you just hope he has calmed down from the argument earlier.

You and Megumi get out of the car to head inside. Picking up trash in the front of the entrance as you make your way up to the 4th floor. 

You just hope for peace for the rest of the night.

✿❀○❀✿

You don’t know why you stay.

Entering the apartment you aren’t shocked anymore by the scene in front of you. The living room table and the kitchen island you just cleaned the morning before was dirty. You only left out a few hours ago so it only took less than 4 hours for Toji to create the mess. Magazines and beer bottles on the table and carry out food containers left on the kitchen island. In the corner of the living room table was a gun along with a knife and several cigarette packs. At least he had the nerve to use an ashtray for the cigarettes. Sighing loudly you tell Megumi to head to his room noticing that the boy is already moving to head that way. Just like you, he is used to a routine whenever Toji is home. 

Your body moved like it was on autopilot. You quickly looked under the cabinet for trash bags to dispose of the empty items that he left along with the magazines. Toji reads them when he's here but you notice he never takes them when he leaves. They always end up staying on the table unless you throw them out. 

The gun and the knife were another story. You accidently threw out a small knife one time by accident when you were cleaning and Toji made it his mission to remind you of it constantly that night. He was mad and in the end it resulted in you and Megumi having to get a hotel for the night to get away from the constant yelling.

“What is wrong with me?” you question yourself outloud. You should have left a long time ago and when you found out the contract expired a few weeks ago you promised Megumi that you would take him with you. You hadn’t known that the marriage contract you ‘signed’ was only good for 5 years. So while you were still married to Toji the mafia argument that binds you guys together was no longer valid. You could get a divorce finally but when it comes to the custody of  Megumi that's a different story. 

Toji knew you were planning to divorce him. He actually pre-signed the papers last week stating that he would be gone before everything was even finalized. You were nervous to even bring up the conversation of taking custody of Megumi. Would he even care?

Focusing back to the living room you stare at the clean space. Everything was clean and clear except for the gun and knife. You didn’t know what to do as you didn’t want to touch the items. You were out of gloves since the last time you had to clean blood off of a towel Toji left on the couch. 

Not wanting to leave it there, you realized you had no choice but to wake up Toji. 

Walking to the master bedroom you turned on the hall light before peaking into the bedroom. “Toji” you said weakly hoping he wouldn’t hear you. 

“I’m not sleep”

“And if I was that weak ass whisper of my name wouldn’t have woke me up.”

You roll your eyes pushing open the door to enter. Your eyes adjust to the dim light and you are met with Toji laying on his back scrolling on his phone. The thick black cover is only pulled over his mid sections and his shirt is thrown on the floor next to the bed along with his slippers he occasionally wears indoors. His abs are on full display and his black hair has grown out, making his bed hair look messier. Even though you and him don’t get along, you have eyes, he looks like a finely made roman statue. 

“Can you please get the gun and knife off the table so I can go lay down peacefully?” you said trying your hardest to be nice for the sake of Megumi in the other room.

“Why can’t you just move it?” he replied, smirking while leaning up on his elbows causing the blanket to slip off his lap. 

“My eyes are up here ma.” he continued smirking at your obvious display of checking him out. He knows he looks good which doesn’t help.

“Cut the shit, I don’t know what you have used those for. Just move them so Megumi doesn’t see them.” you gave up on being nice. Toji makes it so difficult for you to remain calm. 

“Megumi this Megumi that, a little gun isn’t gonna scare him he grew up around it.” stated Toji laying back down on the bed. 

“Please Toji.” you sighed out walking further in the room. He looked over from his phone getting a better look of you. You could see his eyes taking in your black and red sundress you rushed to throw on earlier while you were rushing out. He must have thought of something because next thing you know he’s sitting back up.

“Where were you going to lay down?” he asked, looking me over. 

“The other room.” you answered. Even though he already knew the answer. Anytime Toji was present you choose to sleep in Megumi's rooms on an air mattress you guys kept for times like this. It was easier so that you could actually get some rest. 

“I’ll make you a deal. Come lay with me and I'll move the gun.”

“Fine” you gave in too quickly like you always end up doing. That's how you find yourself laid out on the bed with a half naked Toji above you. 

Toji started leaving kisses down your neck moving slowly. He loves to tease. It's been so long since you have hooked up with each other. You were sure Toji finds company in other people but you on the other hand don’t have the time or energy to venture out. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Get out of your head ma,.. think later” Toji muttered while taking your left breast into his mouth. He moved further down your body leaving several marks, he always leaves marks. By now you are whining and tugging on his head trying to move him further down to where you need him.

“Toji stop teasing.” you beg resulting in him biting hard on your right thigh. Drawing a sharp hiss out of your throat. 

“Was that an order babe?” Toji said, looking up from in between my thighs. He’s in that kind of mood today. You could tell it was going to be a long night. 

“No.” you say, turning your head into the pillow next to you while he adjusts your legs over his broad shoulders. A stutter left you at the movement. 

“Look at me” he said. Turning back and looking down you were met with a sight that always makes you weak. Toji had such an intense look on his face his eyes shined with a look of hunger. His once brown eyes looked to be black. He turned back to the task at hand knowing that your eyes wouldn’t leave him.

He left a couple more kisses and marks on your thighs and legs before burying his face into the middle of your legs. Your legs shook as he swiped his tongue over your clit before moving to fuck you with his tongue. His nose is now grazing your clit as he tongue fucks you. 

“F-fuck, please” you practically scream. You would be fucking into his face if it wasn’t for the fact that your legs were over his shoulders. 

Toji always ate you out as if he was starving. His mouth and tongue never missed anywhere grazing over all the sensitive parts of your pussy.You felt like you were floating every single time. It was always messy because he loved to take his time. He loved to make a mess of you. 

“Please, please–” you were holding his hair at point, being careful not to tug. You know if you did he would stop and you didn’t want that. You were practically crying which you knew was one of Toji’s favorite things. 

“Please what doll?” he said looking into your eyes, mouth wet and you can see his tongue licking at his bottom lip getting more of a taste of you. 

“Can I cum please Toji?” you asked as you could feel a couple of tears fall onto your check. By now he has been eating you out for over 30 minutes and you have given up on acting like you didn’t need him inside you.

“Hmm,,.not yet only after you have been good to me” Toji said, moving up from the position he was in. He was now sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Get on your knees doll.” he ordered. You could barely feel your legs as you got off the bed and kneeled between his legs. You hadn’t moved quick enough for Toji because you felt his hand firmly gripping your hair tugging you closer to him. 

“Suck me” Toji said, looking down at you. He hadn’t removed his sweatpants yet but you know what he wanted. 

You placed your lips on the outline of his dick. Sucking and licking at the cotton as if it wasn’t in the way. He groaned several times lightly pulling at your hair while grinding into your face. While he was patient with you when it came to his pleasure, that was a different story. 

Toji stood up pulling his sweatpants down while still keeping a firm grip on your hair.

“Ahh, wait-” you were cut off by him practically shoving himself down your throat. You were extremely wet now and knew you had to be leaking onto the floor. He was choking you on his cock which caused more tears to stream down your face. 

His hips moved pushing him deeper in your throat while his hands worked to control your head. You could feel the tip of his dick in the back of your throat. 

Toji was well endowed and if it wasn’t for you being with him sexually for the last 6 years you knew there was no way you would be able to take him this deep. He knew this and reminded you from time to time that he has ‘trained your throat’ for him. 

The sounds in the room were deep groans from Toji and moans from you that could be heard only when he slipped out of your throat. You could tell by his movement that Toji was close. Groaning his hips jerked and he slipped back, tapping his wet cock against your tongue. 

“Fu- Swallow it” he stuttered in between his higher pitched groans. He was moaning at this point. Surely enough he emptied in your mouth without giving you a chance to take a breath until he was done. 

As you went to swallow you were yanked to stand on your legs by your throat. He had a firm grasp on your throat that almost caused me to choke. He pulled me in front of him so you only had to glance up some to see his face. 

“Now swallow” he said, his hand not leaving your throat wanting to feel you swallow his load. You swallowed looking him straight in the eyes as you did. Your eyes were still teary and your legs were weak as you stood in front of him. That seemed to not be enough for him. 

“Open” he said in almost a whisper tone. Grazing his hand against your lips he looked as if he was holding himself back to not lose control. His eyes remained black and his expression didn’t give away what he was going to do. 

Toji gently grabbed your face with his other hand while you opened your mouth, remembering to keep eye contact. He leaned down and spit directly in your mouth. Hand still around your throat as you swallowed his spit. His spit tasted like cigarettes and you can smell the beer strong from his mouth. 

‘Smack’ his hand lightly smacked your face while he spit in your mouth again. The slap wasn’t hard but it still made a sound that echoed in the room. 

“I told you to stop thinking doll, it’s okay i’ll help you relax” Toji said walking you backwards until you fell on the bed with him on top of you. 

“Do you want me to make you cum?” he said, teasing his fingers at my entrance. 

“Please, y-you promised.” you sobbed at this point needing him inside you. You felt wet and empty and knew that the only way you would get relief is if he was inside you. 

“Promised?” he chuckled, slipping two fingers inside of you. He never starts with one knowing you will open right up for him. 

“Hmm.” he hums. 

“I don’t remember making that promise.” Toji moved on to tease your clit while his two fingers continued pumping into you at a slow rate. You were moaning into your hand while you were almost riding his fingers at this point. If he stops you, you might die.  

“I’m tired, maybe we should stop for the night doll.” he said, not looking tired at all. You knew he was testing you to see what kind of reaction he could get out of you. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction but you needed to cum. 

You moved from under him pushing him on his back so you were now on top of him. Your legs were still shaking but you moved on and you were on your knees hovered over him. 

Reaching behind, you grip his cock lining him up with your entrance. You let out a gasp as his throbbing member entered you. You forgot that Toji doesn’t need much of a recovery after cumming, his second rounds always last longer. You might have taken on more than you can handle. 

“I found the papers you had in the bedside drawer” he said, giving you one of his flashy smiles while he leaned back with his hands behind his head.

What papers? The only thing you had in the drawer was…. Oh shit

You freeze up, not moving scared of his reaction.

“Don’t stop now doll” Toji grabbed my waist moving my body up and down slowly on his cock. 

“If you do a good job i’ll sign them for you” he casually said watching your boobs move up and down because of his actions.

“You promise?” you choked out feeling tears threatening to escape your eyes. He gave you a look like he was searching for what to say. His black eyes looked like their regular  brown color as he sat up so you two were face to face. 

“I promise.” Toji whispered into your lips kissing you for the first time tonight. You can’t recall the last time you guys kissed. This kiss was passionate and you were right about his breath smelling like beer but now you were fully tasting it. You weren’t used to this kind of emotion from Toji. You didn’t even compete for dominance just wanting to feel him close to you. 

The room was filled with moans and cries as you rode him into oblivion. Motivated by him signing the papers but you were also feeling an urgent need to make this memorable. Something was telling you that this was the last time that you would be able to feel him.

 You couldn’t tell who came first but you felt it as Toji filled you up. You thanked  yourself for starting birth control recently. 

When you caught your breath you moved to clean yourself up leaving Toji in the room. You took a shower in the bathroom using hot water to relax your muscles. After washing you glanced at yourself in the mirror. 

“Jesus.” you knew Toji left plenty of marks but you looked like you had been mauled. 

Leaving the bathroom after changing into one of your night gowns you were stopped in your tracks. Toji was now lying under the covers curled up on the right side of the bed. The lamp was on by the desk and while you walked over to turn it off you noticed papers and a pen sitting on the table. 

Picking it up you realized he had actually signed it. Toji signed the custody papers giving you full custody of Megumi. 

You couldn’t help but let out a soft sob. At this point you didn’t know if you were crying tears of joy or sadness. While you were losing a marriage you were gaining something more important. You couldn’t help but to have feelings for Toji after all these years and the thought of leaving scared you as he was the only thing you have known for the last few years. Starting over was scary but you knew you needed to. 

Turning to leave the room you were stopped by a hand on your arm.

“Don’t go. Lay with me, one last time.” looking down you were met by the face of the man you married 6 years ago.

tag: @beetusbritt❤ divider by @cafekitsune art credit 1: ig: arekushisu (commission do not use) art credit 2: twitter: ayushnz_ ❀follow for more ❀ ao3: kenzieblue❀

-kenzie & des

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter seven || weapon

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 7.3k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

The feeling of the breeze threading through the open door is refreshing given the tense air in the cabin. The smell of spring blossoms puts a smile on your tired features from yet another long night.

At some point in the night, you had heard Gojo come down the stairs, his steps approaching your door but after some sort of turmoil, he seemed to decide against knocking. You had wondered if he thought you were asleep, but since you’d woken up he’d been avoiding you. He had left breakfast on the table for you early in the morning at some point, retreating back to his bedroom before you had the chance to talk.

Every time he shuffled or moved in his bedroom, you’d freeze, a sudden uncomfortable air to being in the cabin with him. You’d asked him for space last night and he was certainly giving you that, but it didn’t make you feel any better about the previous day’s interactions with him.

As you sit at the table eating your breakfast, a knock at the door makes you jump. Pressing your palms flat against the table, you push yourself to your feet, but before you can make your way to the door, Gojo hops down the stairs. His hand ghosts over your shoulder and sends a shiver down your spine.

“I got it,” he tells you, his first words to you since your argument last night.

You sit back down, wanting nothing more than to talk to Gojo about the events of last night, but the presence of Yuta at the door prevents you from doing so.

“Morning, Sensei!” The boy grins cheerily, gripping the bag slung over his shoulder. He peeks into the cabin, shooting you a kind but wary smile. “Good, you’re both here. Can I come in?”

Gojo shoots you a glance, a silent question. When you nod, Gojo makes space for Yuta to enter.

“Hey y/n, how’re you feeling?” He asks, sliding his katana bag off his shoulder and leaning on the table beside you as he sits down.

“Been better,” you admit but shoot him a reassuring smile.

“Yeah I’m sorry about stabbing you, by the way,” he chuckles as he runs a hand through his hair.

Gojo had mentioned that Yuta was the one who stopped your draconic rampage a few weeks back, but it didn’t make it any less of a strange apology to hear.

You shake your head in embarrassment. “I’m just glad no one got hurt.”

Yuta and Gojo excitedly exchange a few words as Gojo flips the chair opposite you, straddling it as he casually rests both arms over the back of it.

“So listen, the higher-ups called for me,” Yuta frowns, glancing between you both.

Avoiding Gojo’s stare, your brow furrows in confusion. “Why call for a student?”

“Oh!” Yuta chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “I’m a special grade sorcerer, so I’m a bit different from a normal student,” he exhales shyly. He watches as you nod, taking in a breath as his expression grows more serious. “Gojo, you know what that means, right?”

He hums, his blindfolded eyes very clearly locked on you in thought although you couldn’t see them. You’d grown more confident in your ability to read his expressions even when hidden, and the apprehension currently clouding his features was obvious.

“I see,” he hums, resting his chin on his arms.

“Do they know I’m awake yet?” You ask, fiddling with your fingers.

“No, Shoko’s keeping it under wraps.” Gojo’s foot begins bouncing as he’s deep in thought.

“So, can we keep stalling?” Yuta asks hopefully, pulling his knee up on the chair.

Gojo clicks his tongue. “If Yuta doesn’t kill you,” he points his finger in your direction, “they’ll send someone else.”

“Tsukumo?” Yuta cocks his head to the side. 

Deep in thought, Gojo shakes his head. “She wouldn’t. The Zen’in, if I were to guess.”

You weren’t overly familiar with the clans aside from Gojo, but you recognized the name. From what you had heard they were relatively ruthless and Nanami didn’t seem too fond of them. A conversation had come up that multiple students in Tokyo and Kyoto had roots there and had chosen to abandon them based on their treatment. 

“One Zen’in isn’t too bad,” Yuta muses. “We could handle a Zen’in.”

“I didn’t say one.”

“Oh.”

Tapping your fingers a couple of times on the table, you worry your lip between your teeth. “Would it be so bad for me to talk to the higher-ups?”

Gojo lifts his head, lips pursed. He runs a hand through his snowy locks, giving them a more disheveled look than usual. His leg bounces beneath him, a tic you’d started noticing more often. From what you could tell he seemed to do it when something was bothering him, but when it came to Gojo, things were always a mystery.

“Well…” Yuta chimes in when Gojo doesn’t answer. “It could work.”

“No.” Gojo’s voice is firm and earns surprised stares from you and the student.

“Why not?” You ask curiously, not having enough knowledge about the world of Jujutsu or the higher-ups to form an opinion.

“It won’t matter. And they won’t have you stand before them.”

“Can they… stop me?”

Gojo hums, shifting his jaw from side to side. “No, but-” He chews on his lower lip in thought, as though he’s grappling with something. “Give me a moment,” he sighs finally, getting to his feet and walking off to the washroom.

Your gaze follows the tall figure down the hall, fixing on the door as he shuts it behind him. Yuta sighs, mindlessly fiddling with his uniform jacket, one that was a stark white in comparison to the rest of the students.

“Miss y/n?”

You hum, turning your attention to Yuta.

“I think it could work,” he offers, shrugging his shoulders hopefully. “Talking to them, I mean.” He offers a kind smile.

“You think?” A flicker of hope shines in your eyes.

“They wanted me dead two years ago,” he chuckles. “Special grades scare them, especially Gojo.”

Even Miriko had been afraid of Gojo upon your first meeting, but knowing him now and seeing the way he interacted with the world around him, it almost felt like a crime to be afraid of him. He was so childish, you couldn’t envision a world where someone with a title of a ‘higher-up’ would be afraid of such a man. After all, surely they had to be powerful.

“Him? Why?”

“He’s the strongest.”

“So I’ve heard,” you sigh, getting awfully sick of that statement.

“The thing about Gojo is that…” he pauses, eyes flickering to the door as though he isn’t sure he should utter a word. His voice lowers as he continues. “I don’t think he’s ever really been one to listen or care about what they think,” he starts, “but they have to listen to him as the head of the Gojo clan.”

You nod slowly, taking in his words. You were familiar enough with the concept of the power the clans held, Gojo included.

“I think, though, what they’re really afraid of is the other side of him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Shoko probably knows better than I do, but…” His eyes flicker to the shut door again. “He’s a different person in battles. He’s willing to make sacrifices more than I think the average person is.” Your brow furrows, not sure where Yuta is going with this. “I think the higher-ups see him as a weapon, not a person. There’s no way he doesn’t know that,” his voice is small as he frowns. “I think if they keep ordering him to kill the people he cares about, he’s gonna snap.”

Your eyes widen at the revelation, thoughts racing through your mind as you take in what he said. Though you’d seen a more cold side of Gojo, even in battle you’d never once pictured him as any less of a person. Leaning back in your chair, you worry your lip between your teeth in deep thought, not sure which of the questions racing through your mind to start with.

On one hand, there was the question of who exactly Gojo had been ordered to kill. Did Yuta mean himself and Yuji? Or was there more to the story than just his students?

On the other hand, you weren’t confident that you qualified as someone Gojo cared about. Sure, he’d shown that at least now he was trying and there was a level of civility between you both, but him caring about you was another story.

“What do you mean ‘keep’ ordering him to kill?” You ask, leaning forward against the table, but before Yuta can say what’s on the tip of his tongue, the washroom door swings open and Gojo returns with a composed grin. Yuta’s eyes widen, his lips zipping tightly as he abruptly stops your conversation.

“Talkin’ about me?” He teases, stepping over the backwards chair to take his spot straddling it again. You roll your eyes at the cocky greeting despite him being right. “Why don’t we grab some food before we continue?”

Shooting a glance at Yuta, you nod. Maybe that would give you a chance to continue your conversation with him. Noting that you were still in yesterday’s clothes, the two men allow you time to shower, put your hair up and throw on more acceptable clothing, opting for a cropped shirt and joggers. You didn’t have the energy to put any more effort into how you looked.

Pushing the door open, you throw your old clothes into the guest room, slipping your phone into your pocket. Coming up to the table, you stand behind Yuta as you wait for the two to stop laughing over something.

“Ready?” Yuta asks with a smile, turning to look up at you.

Nodding, you look to Gojo to lead the way, his head fixed in your direction with pursed lips. Clearing his throat, he smirks. “Right! Tokyoooo!”

Yuta slings his bag over his shoulder, taking the lead as you stop to grab your sunglasses before unsteadily making your way after him. As footsteps approach from behind you, you feel something brush against your arm. The sight of Gojo offering you his arm catches you off-guard and you feel an embarrassing heat rise to your cheeks.

Somewhat begrudgingly, you take it and your small group has Ijichi drive them to a cafe not too far from the school that Gojo claims has the best mochi.

To your absolute delight, he was right.

Starry-eyed, you stare down at the treat, tongue gliding over your lips. “I gotta hand it to you Gojo, you were right.”

He hums in response, an uncharacteristically quiet response to what might even be a compliment, and when you look up at him he seems equally distracted. He’s worrying his lip between his teeth, gaze seemingly fixated on you, though you could only assume he’d spaced out or something.

Shrugging it off, you turn your attention to Yuta, who mutters, “Maki would love this, I’ve gotta bring her here sometime.”

You smile warmly at the thought of the students going out for food, just enjoying life. You’d grown so accustomed to sorcery that sometimes it was easy to forget they were all kids. They should be out enjoying life, not worrying about what curse would try to kill them next.

And yet that was exactly where your life had brought you. In fact, you were probably Yuta’s age when you forced yourself into isolation and lost your freedom. You grimace at the thought, training your attention on the mochi in your hands with a frown as though it was responsible for your loss of freedom.

You inhale sharply, forcing the thought aside. No need to feel pity for yourself when you were happy with how your life had been.

“I’m gonna grab some for my friends,” Yuta decides, getting up to stand in line.

With Yuta out of earshot, Gojo turns his attention to you. “I’ll arrange a meeting for you with the higher-ups.”

You tilt your head in surprise.

“I don’t want Yuta to stand before them. He’s just a kid.”

It’s strange to hear Gojo say something so protective, even when it comes to his students. His trust in them and their abilities was so great that you sometimes doubted his judgment when it came to them, but all that really told you was that there was something about the higher-ups that even he feared.

“I agree but… why the change in heart?” You ask, wondering why he’d decided to keep this from Yuta.

“I have a plan,” he tells you, leaning forward on the table. He attempts to slyly reach across the table and steal your last mochi, snickering when you try to slap his hand away but you’re met with Infinity.

“Why are you even using that? We’re in a cafe.” You grumble, watching him pop your last mochi into his mouth. Your conversation about Gojo’s plan is now long forgotten as you narrow your eyes at him.

“You never know,” he shrugs you off.

“You’re such a pain,” you grumble at his chipper laugh. “I was enjoying that.”

“Awh, were you?” He teases.

If looks could kill.

Yuta returns, brow raised at the looks being exchanged between the two of you. “Do you guys need a moment?” He utters uncertainly.

“No,” you force a kind smile.

After going over his mochi flavor choices, Gojo decides he needs to try some of them, getting back in line himself. Eagerly awaiting Gojo’s departure to continue your conversation from earlier, you unceremoniously flip towards Yuta.

“What did you mean, earlier?”

“Uh…” The boy’s brow furrows, the conversation clearly a passing topic for him, whereas for you it was the answers you were seeking. Or so you hoped. “Oh, about Geto?”

Your eyes widen as an image of the raven-haired man, pale and unmoving, in Gojo’s arms returns to your mind.

“Geto… Suguru?” You ask in disbelief. Of course, it made sense, but still it felt like pieces of the puzzle were missing. Gojo was a menace but even you could admit he wasn’t a monster. Geto, though, it was hard to make an argument for. Were they…?

“That’s the one,” he hums. “He once told me he was his only friend. I guess they were classmates with Shoko.”

At a loss for words, you lean back in your chair deep in thought. It had been a long time since you’d considered why it was that Gojo had seemed so desperate to have Geto back when he had inexplicably showed up at your gate.

Back then, you’d paid little mind to the melancholy laced between his words. The way he’d gripped the limp body in his arms with all the care in the world, how he’d begged for you to bring him back. You saw it now, clear as day. He had been in love and his tragedy laid in his arms, his wounds bared to you, of all people.

Yuta frowns, eyes trained on the bag of mochi in front of him. “He killed him a couple of years ago. Then when someone used his body, he had to kill him again.”

“He did some terrible things,” you reason, headlines of Geto Suguru’s actions coming to mind from when you were around Yuta’s age.

Still, you mumble a curse under your breath at the thought of having to kill someone you were so fond of. The horror of the idea tightens in your chest, digging uncomfortably into your heart as you shoot a glance at the cheery sorcerer ordering mochi with a boyish grin.

“That’s why he couldn’t kill you.”

“Hm?” You ask, unable to connect the dots between you and Gojo’s closest confidante.

Yuta’s head tilts sympathetically. “Maybe you should ask him about it,” he mumbles with a sparkle of mischief in his sunken eyes.

Pursing your lips, your confused expression remains as Gojo approaches your table.

“Alright! Ready?” As you and Yuta both nod, he makes his way around the table, reaching his hand out to help you up. Still lost in thought, you barely notice the way he effortlessly pulls you up by your forearms before snugly pulling you to his side, holding you up by your waist. You don’t bother to think about it, because Gojo’s always been one to invade personal space, and you need the help anyway.

The car ride back is filled with joyous laughter between Yuta and Gojo, though you can only watch the scenery go by as you try to make sense of what you know about the Limitless sorcerer. How many people had he lost? How many had he been forced to kill?

Why did everyone seem to see him as a weapon?

Pulling into the entrance of the school, Yuta thanks Gojo for lunch, his eyes lighting up when he spots his friends in the distance. His teacher urges him off to them, telling him the conversation about the higher-ups could be handled by you and him.

He bounds off happily towards the green-haired second-year who you recognize as Maki. She seems to soften when she sees him, smiling when he pulls out mochi for her before sharing with the panda (who is still an enigma to you), and the shorter blonde student.

“They’re cute,” you comment.

Gojo hums, smiling as he offers you his arm again. You take it as he leads the way back to his cabin, returning to your thoughts.

Yuta’s words clung to you like glue, unable to be shaken. Would Gojo even answer you if you did ask him why he didn’t kill you? Or would he give you another excuse? Would he avoid the question altogether? After all, you had asked him why he didn’t kill you when the higher-ups asked. By all accounts, it would have been excusable to most people given the damage you’d done. What was more surprising was spotting him waiting at your hospital bedside with sunken eyes and pale, tired skin when you’d woken up.

You’d never stopped to consider why he was so adamant on staying at your side. Why he had decided to take care of you, and not just keep an eye on you, but cook and clean too. Hell, even the way he helped you get around while you were struggling was soft, kind even.

Was it guilt?

Or… was there more to it than that?

Questions of Geto swirled in your brain as well. If they had been so close, what had happened? Had it affected him in a way he wouldn’t dare show others? Was his cheery act all a facade? A coping mechanism?

It was shocking how well his student knew him.

Coming back to the cabin, you kneel down to greet your excited pup at the door, squealing happily as he licks your cheek. He doesn’t even bother barking at Gojo anymore, clearly growing more accustomed to him.

“Miriko, you in there?” Gojo asks, half-sitting against the back of the couch.

“Can I help you, Six Eyes?” Her mouth appears on your cheek, your eyes rolling down to try to see it.

“You’ve got a week to heal y/n,” he says bluntly, removing his blindfold and tossing it on the table. His locks fall over his eyes and he shakes his head to clear his vision. “I have a plan.”

–

Days came and went with few changes besides an increase in your physiotherapy with Shoko and when Miriko’s cursed energy had finally returned, she was able to heal you fully. You had happily gone bounding down the faculty stairs back to the cabin where Gojo sat with feet up on the table, grinning as you excitedly bounded up to your dog and ran outside with him.

It was your first genuine, truly happy grin in a long time.

Too busy playing with Taro, you missed the way Gojo slyly followed you and leaned against the doorframe, ducking his head to fit properly through the frame as he watched you play with a rope toy with Taro. Stumbling back, you shriek in surprise as Taro lets go of the rope and you fall flat on your ass. You spot Gojo shaking his head in the distance, bringing his coffee up to his lips.

You’d gone a shocking amount of days with no real fight and only minor spats here and there when Gojo felt like being a pain in the ass, but there was nothing new about that. If there was one thing he enjoyed, it was irritating you. 

He seemed to enjoy it more as your mood and coordination both picked up, growing more and more teasing each morning as he would practice cooking eggs to your preferences.

This morning is no exception as he calls you inside. You take a seat at the table, thanking him as he serves your eggs. 

You raise a brow, turning your attention to him. “This is still burnt, Gojo. It’s almost impressive.”

“It’s not burnt! C’mon, it should be perfect,” he insists, spatula still in-hand as he rounds the table, only to spot that it was in fact a bit crispy as he invades your personal space when he leans in. “Hmm, it adds flare?” He insists as though he’s running out of compliments for his somewhat burnt eggs.

“I don’t need flare in my food, dumbass,” you tease, his eyes narrowing as he pouts at you.

“Maybe not in your food, but your personality could use some,” he mutters on his way back to the stove, surprised when you have not only the energy but also the movement necessary to lunge at him in a shockingly playful manner.

Gojo drops the spatula on the counter at the realization you’d lunged at him, dashing behind the couch in the living room. You stumble over yourself once but remain mostly dexterous as you face him on the opposite side of the couch. A boyish grin dawns his features as he places his palms on the arm of the couch, blue eyes gleaming playfully.

You feign to the right, before hopping over the couch, forgetting that he can, of course, teleport, as he disappears when you launch a pillow at him.

“Cheater!” You call over to him from where he’s now leaning against the wall with a sly smirk by the kitchen. You can’t help but smile at the infectious look, hopping down off the couch as you return to the kitchen. An overpowering smell of crispiness reminds you that Gojo was cooking when you dove at him.

He seems to remember at the same time as you both approach the pan with what was meant to be his serving of eggs.

“Do these ones have enough flare for you?” You tease as you both stare at the undeniably very burnt eggs in the pan.

“You’re a pain, you know that?” He teases with parted lips, poking your shoulder. Behind the guise of irritation, his eyes give away that he’s secretly enjoying your teasing.

“Speak for yourself, Satoru.”

Gojo’s teasing falls off as he stares at you in shock, his jaw practically dropping to the floor. Stiff as a board, he inhales sharply and rolls his shoulders, composing himself before you can notice the way you left him speechless. Never in a million years could either of you have imagined a world where you were on a first name basis, but whether it’s an accident or not, Gojo smiles fondly and lets you dump the eggs out.

“I’ll make new ones,” he says, clearing his throat. You sit down at the table again, eyes flitting over to your roommate as he leans down to grab new eggs from the fridge, his back muscles rippling from beneath his tight black shirt.

Your thoughts trail back to your conversation with Yuta and you debate asking the questions that remain unanswered, but it never seems to feel like the right moment.

“Hey, so listen,” Gojo starts, a more serious timbre to his voice. You give him your attention, tilting your head as he eyes you to see if you’re listening from where he stands over the pan. Still facing the stove, he continues. “I’m being sent on a mission, but you should be fine now that you’re healed.” You nod, not thinking much of it. You would still have one extra day to prepare for the meeting with the higher-ups when he got back, anyway.

“Must be a strong curse if they’re sending you,” you comment.

He hums in agreement. “The data they gathered on it estimates that it can negate the effects of cursed techniques.” He shrugs nonchalantly, a confident smirk donning his features. “Some sorta ugly humanoid thing I guess.”

The Thief cursed spirit?

You stare down at your eggs, repeating Miriko’s question aloud to Gojo.

“Hm? Dunno, I don’t have much more info.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Miriko appears on the back of your hand. You hold her up to face Gojo. “However I do not think it would be wise to send you.”

“Why’s that?”

“It sounds like a curse I knew once, it has the ability to temporarily disable and steal other techniques.” Her red iris darts to you, examining your curious expression. “You would be allowing it to use not only Limitless, but Six Eyes.”

“Nah, I’d win.” He grins nonchalantly, turning back to the stove and ignoring Miriko’s warning. “I’ll just kill it first.”

“You would be much wiser to send Itadori, he has no technique to steal and it shouldn’t be capable of reaching Sukuna.”

“It’s fine Miriko, I got this.” He grins again, shooting a confident look at the curse. She huffs before disappearing.

He is stubborn, she comments.

You chew your eggs, humming internally in response as you watch Gojo’s movements. You aren’t sure why, but a familiar anxiety settles in your stomach.

Do you think it can hurt him? You ask Miriko silently, spacing out as you speak to her.

Certainly. It did a number on me a long time ago. It’s unpredictable and very smart.

We can’t send a student.

It’s not very strong without a technique to steal. Itadori would be more than capable of taking it on alone.

You hum in thought, pulling Gojo’s attention from his eggs.

Could it… kill him?

Miriko pauses. I don’t know.

You swallow uncomfortably, poking at the remains of your eggs. A cursed spirit with a technique built to rival someone like Gojo. The anxiety begins to boil in your stomach, pulling your attention to the snowy locks of your roommate.

You suck in a breath as images flash through your mind of Kento. Of his smile, his warmth, his love. The way the light faded from his eyes when the curse pierced through him, when he lifted his arm to attempt to free himself, only to be pulled into a pool of acid, with nothing left of him but a blade.

Images of Gojo in the same situation settle uncomfortably in your mind alongside those of Kento.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, your breathing quickens and you stare wide-eyed at Gojo as words pour out of your mouth before you can think twice about them. “Please don’t go.”

Sliding his eggs out onto a plate and setting the pan aside, he turns to you with a raised brow at the meek tone behind your words. “Why? I can handle it.”

“I- I’m just looking out for you,” you stammer over your words, sitting upright. “Miriko thinks-”

“I’ll be fine,” he interrupts, waving his hand in the air with a scoff. “I’m the strongest.” There it is, that familiar phrase. The sentence you've heard uttered so many times that it makes your blood boil.

Anger begins to seep through the cracks of your calm facade, pooling in your chest and forming an uncomfortable weight that pulls you down. “For god’s sake, Gojo.” You sigh, watching with discontentment as he sits down to eat his eggs, pulling up his phone as he blatantly pushes away your concern.

Glancing up from his phone with a bite of eggs in his mouth, he hums questioningly at you when he sees the way your jaw is clenched.

“Can’t you listen to me for once?”

“What? C’mon, it’s not a big deal y/n. I handle shit like this all the time,” he shrugs nonchalantly, setting his phone down on the table.

“I know you do, but-” you pause, brow furrowed as you search for the words that will convince him, as stubborn a man as he is. “I just think- Miriko says-”

“y/n,” he interrupts, running a hand through his silvery locks. “I can handle myself, seriously. I’m the-”

“For fuck’s sake, I know!” You raise your voice, lowering it immediately as he glowers at you. “Just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you’re immune to everything,” you reason.

“I’ll be fine,” he mutters through his teeth, crossing his arms over his chest.

You stare at him in disbelief. Was everything you were saying going in one ear and out the other?

“For fu- Why are you being so stubborn?” Wide-eyed, you press on in hopes of getting him to listen. 

“Stubborn? Do you hear yourself?” His voice raises now too, clearly growing upset.

“I’m just trying to make sure you don’t get hurt!” You raise your voice again, somewhat hurt at his lack of self-preservation.

“What does it matter? I’ll just heal myself,” he insists through gritted teeth, his voice edging on a growl.

You rub your hands over your face in exasperation. “What if you can’t? What if this thing is stronger than you think? What if-” Your words die on your tongue as the claws of anxiety begin to strike at your chest and your breathing increases, panic setting in thick. You take a shaky breath, balling your hands into fists in your lap to stop them from shaking. God, why did this keep happening? Why was he so insistent on arguing with you?

“You know what, whatever. I’m heading out.” Gojo gets to his feet, the clang of his plate rattling in the sink causing you to jump as it pulls you from your thoughts.

“Why is it so hard for you to listen to someone other than your goddamn self?”

He whips around, eyes flashing furiously. “You have to be fucking kidding me,” he spits. “It’s always something with you, I’m always doing something wrong.”

Hurt strikes you like a stake through the heart and you feel the familiar burn of tears brimming in your eyes. God damn it, not now. “I didn’t mean it like that, Gojo, I just-”

“Then what did you mean?” He hisses, swinging a hand through the air in disbelief. “Why does it even matter to you?” His accusation burns a hole through your chest and you don’t have time to think before words spill from your lips.

“Because I can’t lose you too!” You cry out, your arms hanging in the air before slowly dropping at your sides, your chest rising and falling quickly as you practically gasp for air, teetering dangerously on drowning in your own desperation. Because god damn it, why could he not listen?

The silence in the cabin is palpable, interrupted only by the incessant chirps of the summer cicadas. Even behind his sunglasses, you can see his eyes are wide, his jaw hanging ajar. Paralyzed at the sound of your words, he can’t manage to mask any amount of his shock. Satory Gojo, who you couldn’t seem to get to shut up most of the time, stood before you at a loss for words.

His shoulders fall, brow twitching as he finally processes what you’d just said. His lips part but he can’t seem to find words, shaking his head. His tongue swipes across his lower lip, your eyes flickering down to the motion for a brief moment.

“I- I didn’t realize…” He mumbles, clearing his throat. “I thought you didn’t care,” he sighs, ruffling a hand through his snowy hair.

“You’re so dense sometimes, Satoru,” you quietly chuckle, rubbing your hands over your face again. “Obviously I care,” you whisper, willing your voice not to waver as you bite your lip.

Quietly examining your face, the sorcerer inhales abruptly and walks back into the kitchen, his steps light as though he’s treading on eggshells. He eyes you for a moment before pouring a glass of water and sitting back down at the table, setting the glass down in front of you.

Gingerly, you reach for the glass, quietly thanking him for the oddly thoughtful gesture.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” His lips are pressed into a thin line, quietly observing the way your breathing begins to slow. A prolonged silence spreads in the cabin once again, neither of you daring to look at one another as though you’d been caught doing something embarrassing.

Then again, it was embarrassing to care for Gojo, sometimes.

Sighing deeply, Gojo leans back in his chair. “We can’t send Yuji alone. He’s not a first grade sorcerer yet,” he clears his throat, motioning to your hand as though he expects Miriko to pop out at any moment. “So… Why don’t we go over who should go with him

To your surprise, Miriko cooperates and you land on sending Kusakabe as backup, although Gojo claims he won’t be fond of the decision. Regardless, it puts you at ease as Gojo makes a call.

Leaning his head back, Gojo slides down in his chair. “I’m not dense.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Whatever you say.”

He pouts, closing his eyes.

Neither of you know what to say. Your relationship has always been strained at best, but the charged emotions left hanging in the air make it hard for either of you to make sense of one another.

Letting out a deep breath, you lower your head. The weight of the morning’s argument exhausts you, and as you glance at Gojo, you realize he too seems to be succumbing to that weight, his breathing already beginning to steady as though he was falling asleep. You quietly chuckle at the sight. He really could sleep anywhere.

Deciding to take after him, you make your way to the couch and it isn’t long after your head hits the cushions that you’re out cold.

–

It was the day of the meeting with the higher-ups and your nerves were at an all-time high even though you had rehearsed what you would be saying to them. Gojo had insisted he go with you in case of emergency, though the intonation behind his words told you there was something more to his insistence on standing before the “old hags” as he so chose to call them.

For the first time in a while, Gojo was wearing his familiar all-black faculty uniform with a high collar, adorned with golden buttons. He also claimed he’d gotten you one, but when you told him Ijichi had never dropped it off he’d just pouted. So you had chosen to wear a fancier black dress with pink flowers that flowed just past your knees.

The sight of a single door had never instilled such nerves in you. It seemed to taunt you, sitting in a strangely barren waiting room, as though you were in a DMV.

Mindlessly bouncing your leg, you sneak a glance at Gojo, who looks calm as ever, his signature smirk donning his lips as he leans back in his chair, crossed arms behind his head. He may as well be the picture of confidence as usual, which on one hand is reassuring, but it also has you wondering whether you might accidentally disappoint him.

Catching your stare, Gojo peeks out from under his blindfold with a reassuring smile. “You’ll be fine,” he hums in a honeyed voice, smooth and calm. His blue eye is warm, white lashes blinking at you a few times before he replaces the blindfold.

You exhale, smiling thankfully at him. Since the day you’d called him dense, he’d seemed to catch on to your more minute emotions, actively trying to keep in tune with you. Every day he seemed to find new ways to make it harder and harder to even say you disliked him, let alone the idea you once hated him.

Nothing would change the fact that he was at all times a cocky pain in the ass, but what mattered was that he was trying. You were both trying.

As the time for your meeting rolls around, you wait in hopes that the door will creak open to a well-lit podium ready for you to speak at, but Gojo hadn’t prepared you for what awaited. Getting to his feet as the clock strikes the hour, the sorcerer springs to his feet, humming as he treads to the door and awaits your meek steps behind him.

Sliding the door open, he holds it for you before sliding it shut behind you. Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the sights around you, the darkness of the room illuminated only by six dim lights, each pointed at a screen panel. The faint outline of a person can be seen behind each one, causing a shiver to run up your spine as you take your place in the center of the panels. All eyes on you, a frail feminine voice addresses you.

“l/n y/n. Your actions are called into question today,” she speaks. You turn to face the panel that the voice is coming from, glancing back at Gojo who shoots you a reassuring nod from the entrance. “For the damage you caused to the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech grounds,” she begins, “and for unleashing a special grade cursed spirit at full power.”

You swallow, staying silent. You’d been over this with Gojo. Do not speak unless spoken to. There’s a pause as they wait for you to speak up. Met with silence, an older male voice pipes in.

“Vessel, are you not responsible for keeping the special grade cursed spirit of death at bay?”

Turning to face the new panel, you swallow. “Yes, I am.” It pains you to say, just as much as it pains Miriko to hear, however every line is rehearsed. You just need to stay calm.

“Upon unleashing the cursed spirit at full force, you put not only faculty and students, but innocent bystanders in danger.”

“Kindly, sir, I was in control.”

Silence chokes you as you wait for a response. A deep and raspy voice snickers at you. “In control, eh? Is that why second-year student Okkotsu Yuta stabbed you through the head?”

You swallow hard. You knew the question was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier. “I was in pain. We had discussed it before, it was premeditated.”

“Should that not be the responsibility of your equal rather than your student?”

Gojo remains unmoving as you nervously search for encouragement from him. He’s frowning now too, clearly frazzled.

“Y-Yes,” you stammer. “Gojo was unavailable.”

“I see,” a deep rumbling sounds as an older man laughs heartily, though you aren’t sure what’s so funny.

Maybe Gojo was right to call them hags. It wasn’t as far fetched as you had once thought, now in their presence. To think they had attempted to sentence two children to their death already, and you were potentially next.

“Miss l/n,” the first feminine voice addresses you again. Flipping to face her, you see a shadow shift from behind the dimly illuminated panel. “Do you have a defense in the case of the untimely death of a mother at the Yokohama hospital in 2008 resulting in the orphaning of a young boy?”

Memories come racing back through your mind, leaving a set of fresh wounds as deep as they had all those years ago. Like shards of ice, they pierce your skin as your blood runs cold.

This, you had not rehearsed. You’re not sure how they ever could have found out about the incident and it makes you shiver. Just how long were they watching you, secretly keeping an eye on you?

Your heart pounds hard against your chest as you glance back at Gojo. He’s frowning, his expression unreadable. The comfort you had hoped he would provide never finds you.

Taking a steadying breath, you steel yourself as you face the panel. “I wasn’t aware of my technique. It was an accident and I never caused harm again.”

The silence that stretches between you is too long, the uncomfortable sound of your nervous breathing all that can be heard. You whip around anxiously to face a different panel as a new voice speaks in a slow, low drawl.

“l/n y/n,” they begin, “as the Vessel of the cursed spirit of death known as Miriko, it is your responsibility to keep it at bay. You have proven on multiple occasions you are incapable of such a feat.” The voice doesn’t waver, the shadow of the figure straightening as they lift their chin, their voice booming. “On these grounds…”

You hold your breath. There’s no world where you’re off the hook based on what they’ve said, but still you hope.

“... We sentence you to death.”

A chill runs squarely up your spine at the words as you spin to face each of the panels. A low snicker sounds from a woman, followed by a grunt of approval from another.

“Gojo Satoru, you will kill the Vessel.”

Turning to face your assailant, your mouth runs dry. He stands unmoving at the entrance, hands in his pockets. Though blindfolded, you feel his gaze on you in a way that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. It’s as though the person staring back at you isn’t a person at all.

Yuta’s words echo in your mind.

“I think if they keep ordering him to kill the people he cares about, he’s gonna snap.”

It was undeniable at this point that, to some degree, you both cared for one another. Your argument a couple of days ago left little to the imagination in terms of how you felt about one another.

But would that be enough to save you? Would he deny them?

He slowly lifts a finger to his blindfold, pulling it down to rest at his collar. His eyes shine wildly in a way you’ve never before seen. His pupils are eerie pinpoints, unblinking as blue seems to tint the white lashes outlining his wide eyes.

Time seems to stand still as he raises a hand to face you, bringing his middle finger to meet his thumb. Swallowing hard, your breathing picks up and you bring your arms up in order to defend yourself despite the horror that roots you to the spot.

Why did it seem the world wanted you to suffer so badly? After so much time convincing yourself it was okay to be close to someone only to have them ripped from your grasp, you now faced the barrel of a loaded gun held by someone you had finally learned to trust.

You close your eyes as Gojo inhales, prepared to take his attack head-on but what meets you isn’t the pain of an attack. Rather, when you open your eyes, everything seems to happen in an instant. You don’t have time to register the way Gojo closes the distance between you, one muscular arm pulling you into his warm chest as he holds you tightly against him.

You feel the flexing of muscles against your shoulder in the arm he’s holding in the air as he makes a signal with his hand that you’ve never seen. His grip on your core tightens, fingers flexing around your shoulder as an unsettling anger seems to rip through the air around you.

“Domain Expansion. Infinite Void.”

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

a/n || thank you for reading as always! i had so much fun with that last scene and the egg scene ♡

[carpenterswife]

ALL MY GHOSTS (iv)

series masterlist

- summary: Beau discovers what you’ve been doing behind his back, and is the farthest thing from impressed. Upset you’ve been hiding your worries from him, he begins to push for answers from you. And, unwilling to give any, you fight back. Tensions rise as you and Beau have your first ever proper fight, and you go home on suspension. You’re left defenceless when you come face to face with danger.

- word count: 2911

- warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, alcoholism.

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

Beau liked to think he was a reasonable man. He was a lenient boss, and, in his opinion, a generally good guy. He didn’t like to fight with people outside of his job — especially not his friends and loved ones. He’d been like that with Carla; argumentative and unreasonable, so, these days, he tried not to be.

But you’d certainly pushed his buttons this time.

He caught sight of you the moment you walked into the bullpen for work (totally not because he’d been waiting). In an instant, he leapt up from his chair, leaving his office with a slam of the door that made you flinch in surprise. “L/N.”

You rose your brows at him, awfully confused at the harsh, angry demeanour he was presenting. “… yes?”

“I need to talk to you. My office. Now.” With those extremely threatening, and very intimidating, words, Beau turned and stalked back into his office That wasn’t like him. You’d never seen Beau this mad before.

Confused and worried, you turned to look at Pop. All the deputy could do was shrug, just as clueless as you were. Sighing, you hurried to Beau’s office, feeling very much like a child about to be scolded.

Oh, yeah. Beau looked like he wanted to rip your damn head off.

“Hey.” You shut the door gently behind you, eyes on him. You were steaks that, if you looked away for a second, he’d lunge at you like a damn lion. He drummed his fingers on the top of his desk, expression emotionless. “What’s going on, Beau?”

He pressed his tongue to his cheek for a moment. “You trust me, yeah?” You stared at him, confused. Your lack of a response made Beau grit his teeth. “That wasn’t rhetorical.”

“Oh—!” You stepped forwards, closer to his desk. Risky move. “Oh! yeah. Yes. I trust you.”

“Right.” He practically spat out the word. Your brows shot up. Something was extremely wrong here. Your skin crawled uncomfortably, “And, if I recall,” his gaze darkened, fingers stopping their drumming, “you told me you’d come to me for help.”

You stared blankly for a moment, trying to understand his point. “Yeah, I did. So?” You shook your head, utterly confused. Anxiety churned in your stomach. “What’s this about?”

He scoffed, standing up. His tall, intimidating stance made you step backwards. Putting his hands flat on the desk, he leant forward. “How come I had to find out you’re being stalked through a fuckin’ text message to the wrong person?” Dread washed over you. You didn’t respond, lips parted as you just stared at him. “Huh?”

This was bad. When you refused to tell Beau about what was going on, you didn’t think this far ahead. The idea of him being mad at you for not telling him hadn’t crossed his much. But it course he was going to be mad — he was naturally a protective, worrisome person. Of course he was going to want to know.

You’d dug yourself a deep, deep hole.

Biting your tongue, you calmed your anxiety. It was time for damage control. “Okay, Beau—“ you tried the gentle approach, treading towards his desk. “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, okay?”

Beau didn’t move an inch. His expression didn’t even change. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because you’re busy—“

“Fuck that!” He barked, not giving you the change to finish.

You bit your tongue at Beau’s words. God, he was mad. You’d never seen him like this before. You’d seen him angry at suspects, but this was worse than that. He’d never been this angry and this upset — or, at least, you’d never seen him like this before.

“You know, and I know, that I’d fuckin’ help you, Y/N.” He said lowly, his anger evident. You noticed his accent got thicker when he was mad. It wasn’t helping at all. “No matter what was on my schedule, I’d help. So why didn’t you come to me?” He demanded an answer; there was lying to him or avoiding it now.

But you were sure as hell going to try. You ran a hand through your hair. “Why are you making this such a big deal, Beau?”

Anger bubbling higher, he released a scoff, shaking his head. “Because it is a big deal!” You opened your mouth. His hand shot out. “Ah, ah! Let me finish!” He ordered loudly, like he was speaking to a child. You closed your mouth immediately, mostly in surprise. “Right now, it feels like you don’t trust me. You promised you’d come to me.”

“Listen, I just didn’t wanna worry you, ‘kay?” You stepping towards his desk, trying to cool him down. This was getting out of hand, fast. “After everything with— with Avery, I didn’t wanna put more on your plate.”

“That’s bullshit.” He squeezed his hands into fists. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, Beau simmering in his rage. “Tell me what’s going on. I want to know. Now.” He seethed. “Who the fuck is Jack?”

You stared at the ceiling. Huffing, you shook your head. “No.”You looked back to meet his eyes, body cold with dread and guilt.

“Why not?” He challenged, becoming angrier with your every word. “You don’t trust me? You told Cassie and Jenny.”

“That’s different, Beau—“

“How is it different?!”

“Because it is!” You raised your voice to a yell.

It surprised you as much as it did Beau. His brows shot up, standing straighter as your voice got louder and more aggressive. You closed your eyes and attempted to calm yourself down.

He grit his teeth, and held out his hand. “Give me your gun and your badge.” He said lowly.

Your eyes shot open. “What?”

“Give me.. your gun.. and badge.” He repeated slowly, pissed off. His teeth ground together, eyes dark with rage as he glared at you. “You’re on one week suspension for insubordination.”

You gawked at him, completely taken aback. “You cannot be serious.” You shook your head. You took another step forwards, brows knitted together, making an attempt to get through to him. “You’re mad at me, I get it. But you can’t suspend me for that!”

Beau didn’t even react. “Don’t make me make it two.”

You scoffed in disbelief, tearing your badge off your belt. You slapped it into his hand. Beau nearly flinched as the metal sent a sting up his palm. Unclipping your holster, you slammed that and your gun inside onto his desk. Beau’s eyes didn’t leave you, watching the tension in your jaw increase.

Without even another look at him, you stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind you with your foot.

What utter bullshit.

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

“He suspended you?”

Jenny and Cassie couldn’t quite believe it when you told them what’d happened. Beau yelling at you? Him suspending you? None of that sounded right. It didn’t sound like the Beau Arlen they’d all come to know and love.

Yet, the distinct lack of your badge and gun on your hip proved your words truthful. In the whole time Beau had worked as sheriff in Helena, he’d never once suspended someone. He once said he didn’t think it was a suitable punishment.

But, here you were, suspended for a week over an argument. It was petty of him. But, Beau was a rather petty man when he wanted to be. To pull out the superior card and actually punish you? It was such a him move that it made it even more annoying.

You downed the remainder your cocktail, face pulling together in distaste at the strong burn of vodka on your throat. “With pay, at least.” You sighed, putting your empty glass down on the table. That was a positive. Beau hadn’t been so heartless to suspend you without pay. At least you were still getting paid. “I can’t fucking believe he suspended me over a fight. Bullshit. What an asshole.” You didn’t mean it. You were just mad.

Jenny sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead. She knew you were speaking from your emotions, and that you’d regret insulting Beau like you had been all night. “Listen, I’ll talk to him.” She attempted to soothe you. “He was probably just upset. He’ll regret it when he wakes up tomorrow. You know what Beau’s like.”

And she was right. You did.

Too much.

“And he’s stubborn.” You pointed out, twirling your cocktail glass on the table. “Once he sets his mind on something, he doesn’t go back on it, even if he regrets it.” Jenny sighed once again, knowing you were right. He wouldn’t take you off suspension until the one week was over.

Because he was a stubborn and petty bastard like that.

“I’m not too upset over being suspended. It’s just the fact he did it.” You attempted to explain to the two girls, who nodded in understanding of your words. After all, why wouldn’t you be upset? Beau was your closest friend, and he’d suspended you because you raised your voice during a fight.

You chewed your cheek as you thought deeply.

Maybe you should just tell him the truth. Right? That’d make everyone’s life easier. Beau would understand, probably take you off suspension, and Jenny would be able stop playing mediator.

But your pride was not going to allow you to roll over and admit Beau won this time. Nope. He’d started a fight. And you were going to stick to your side of the ring, not stroll over to his side and admit defeat right at the start.

If Beau wanted to be petty, you could be pettier.

“Another round?” Cassie asked. With a nod a each from you and Jenny, she got up to walk to the bar and order.

Jenny leant her elbows on the table. “We found something.” Your brows raised, full attention now on her. You, too, sat forwards to listen better. “Jack, your ex.” You tried your best not to flinch at his name, but did anyway. Jenny, bless her heart, didn’t mention it. “He used his credit card at a gas station five miles out of town.”

“Seriously?” Despite your calm exterior, you felt your heart rate begin to speed up. So, you’d been right. Jack was crazy enough to travel from New York to Montana just to find you. Fucking psycho. “When?”

“Last week. The day before the flowers were delivered to the station.”

That was enough of a confirmation for you. Your abusive ex-fiancé was stalking you. The realisation hit you, and instantly made you feel sick. You didn’t know what he wanted, but you knew it wasn’t going to be good.

As Cassie sat down, with three shots, you didn’t hesitate to reach out and grab one, downing it. You were going to need more of these.

Cassie stared at you in bewilderment, and then exchanged a look with Jenny. You were too busy willing yourself to not panic over this to pay attention to their silent conversation.

Reaching out, Cassie grasped your hand, startling you. Your eyes snapped to her, meeting her kind eyes and reassuring smile. “We’re gonna fix this. All of it.” She squeezed your hand gently, making your shoulders relax a bit. Though it was jerky, you nodded in response. “What can you tell us about Jack?”

You pulled your hand back from Cassie’s, setting it on your lap. “He’s a narcissist.” You fiddled with the hem of your sweater. “He’s a sadist. He— he got off on hurting me.“ You closed your eyes tightly at the memory of swinging fists and deep purple bruises.

Two hands rested on your arm, grounding you back to the bar you were in. Your eyes opened and stared down at your arm, at Jenny and Cassie’s hands cooling your warm skin.

“It’s hard to reason with him, he always thinks he’s right.”

“Shut the fuck up. Stop being a bitch.”

“He likes to be in control. He… liked to say he owned me. I should’ve realised something was wrong, really, when he started saying that.”

“Get on your knees. Now. Fucking whore.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Jenny’s voice snapped you from your mind, bringing you back to the present, effectively calming you. She’d caught sight of the distant look in your eyes. “We get the point. He’s a bastard.”

You cracked a smile at Jenny’s words, tension draining from your posture. “He has major mommy issues.” That was enough to get a smirk from Jenny and an amused look from Cassie.

“We’re gonna catch this guy.” Cassie squeezed your arm. “I promise.”

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

Jenny Hoyt was not the type of woman you wanted to upset. To get on her bad side, was to sign a death warrant. She could be your worst enemy, and also your closest, most trusted friend.

And, unfortunately for him, it was Beau Arlen’s turn to be on the receiving side of her anger. He squeezed the pen in his hands to reign in his frustration. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need your input.”

Standing her ground, Jenny stared back at Beau, who seemed far too relaxed for someone who just suspended his closest friend. “Suspending her was too far.” Her arms folded tightly across her chest, her eyes hard and narrowed as she stared down at him challengingly.

Beau rubbed his index and middle fingers across his forehead, muttering to myself. “Jenny—“

“I get it, Beau.” The blonde said, frustrated. “You wanna help. But you ever think that maybe Y/N isn’t telling you because it’s hard for her?” That made Beau’s jaw tighten. Jenny sighed heavily, glad to be somewhat getting through to him. “The things she’s been telling us? Beau… they’re horrific.”

Beau wet his lips with his tongue, and chewed on his bottom lip. A heavy weight of concern and guilty settled down on his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t have suspended you after all.

“I know you’re upset she didn’t tell you, but she needs you.”

He stared at her doubtfully. “She doesn’t—“

“No, she does.” Jenny cut in. Her eyes hardened. “She needs you, and you need her, and you’re both too stubborn to admit it.” Beau allowed himself to chuckle quietly at that. He knew Jenny was right. “She needs your support.“

Sighing, the sheriff relented. He sat back in his chair, and it creaked under his weight. “Okay.” He nodded, spinning his pen between his fingers. “I’ll stop by her place when I finish tonight.”

Jenny sighed in relief. “Good.” She smiled, pleased. “And don’t be a dick.”

Beau scoffed, tapping the end of his pen against his open file. “I ain’t a dick.” He rolled his eyes at Jenny’s deadpan stare. Groaning, he pushed a hand through his hair. “Fine. I was a dick t’her. I’ll apologise, swear it.”

“You better.”

He held his hands up in surrender, amused at his friend’s insistence. “Swear. I’ll even bring her chocolate. Y’know? Win ‘er over.”

Jenny chuckled and nodded. Convincing Beau was easier than she’d expected, thank god for that. “Don’t let her push you away, Arlen.” She stepped back, towards the exit of the sheriff’s office, pointing her index finger at him. “She needs you. She just doesn’t want to admit it.”

Beau watched her go, amused.

Jenny Hoyt: matchmaker extraordinaire.

He’d visit you tonight and apologise, even if it’d sting his pride and ego to do it.

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

Feeding three needy cats was an everyday battle for you, snd it was one that never got an easier. It was like running a really hard marathon with no water. You threw yourself down on the couch as the cats finally gave up on their battles and decided to eat peacefully, relieved to finally be off your feet.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about Beau, and how angry he’d been at you.

Maybe you should apologise.

No, you didn’t do anything wrong.

But… maybe you did. Maybe you should have just told him what was going on front the start. He was your closest friend. Your sheriff. You were meant to trust him. Why hadn’t you told him?

It was something to do with you distrust of men.

But it was Beau. Beau, who wouldn’t hurt you even if you had a gun to his head.

Your internal battle was interrupted by your doorbell. A glance at your phone showed the notification for movement at your front door. Sighing, you stood up and padded to the door, expecting Jenny or Cassie with news. Or, if you were lucky, maybe even Beau with his tail between his legs.

You were stupid to unlock the door without checking.

For gods sake, you were a cop. You’d seen the crime scenes. You’d read the reports and files. But, here you were, making the same mistakes.

And it bit you in the ass immediately.

Because the face on the other side of your front door was not a friendly one.

“Jack?”

The man grinned — that same lopsided grin that used to make you shiver. It still did. “Hiya, doll.” Your grip on the door tightened. “We need to talk.”

You reached for your holstered gun, only to meet air. Right. Your gun was at the station, with Beau, as a result of your suspension.

God damnit, Beau.

As he stepped forwards, you stepped back. “Jack—“

Too late.

Your body hit the ground, unconscious, as darkness filled in your vision.

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

taglist: @yvonneeeee @deans-spinster-witch @fanfic-n-tabulous @dwonfilm @foxyjwls007 @just-levyy

[plusvanity]

Yesterday, I wanted to say that people who blocked me did the wiser thing, but today, I want to touch on a recent issue, a hugely (intentionally) misinterpreted and degrading problem.

The controversies that people started to spread about me literally make me sick to the stomach.

They don't give a fuck about my countless explanations of how this ship is my comfort ship, designed to help me heal from severe abuse, self hatred, body dysmorphia, depression and anxiety.

I try to switch from unhealthy coping mechanisms to something that is both productive, helpful and most of all, harmless (because it's imaginary).

They felt the need to turn something that I created as my own personal fictive escape into a gross sadomasochistic, abusive and extremely toxic 'excuse' for 'why is this ship and not that?'. My guts twist for seeing such cruel assumptions when I have one thing that makes me happy (a story, a healthy narrative) viciously turned into a gruesome scenario that is not what it is at all.

The fact that they accuse me of shipping fair-skinned, blonde people is also the biggest hypocrisy that they could come up with when they themselves forget that Øystein's natural hair is blond and his eyes are blue in their own double-standard ship.

The fact that accuse me of romanticizing self-harm while they themselves 'like' (I have proofs) and approve art of EuroDead self-destructive romanticism shows their duplicitous and impostor nature. This is not to be taken as an insult, but an obvious fact concluded by their behavior.

My ship has little to do with physical looks and everything else to do with the in-depth psychology. It's not me, PlusVanity who says that there's a gigantic overlap between highly-autistic traits and trauma response (in personality disorders), it's Freud, Jung, Lacan's teachings and many other's scholars, neurologists and psychiatrists came to this conclusion many many years before you and I were even born. If you, dearly-opinionated friend, think that you can prove to these honorable psychoanalytical figures (and me, of course) otherwise with credible and well-documented research and not your 'I don't like that just because' synthetic opinion, I will gladly listen to what you have to bring up. I am well-versed in the philosophical and psychological domain, and I can provide solid arguments to everything I claim.

It's more than just unfair to point the finger at me, accusing me of a ludicrous sadomasochistic and 'subliminal racial element' in my art just to satisfy your late frustration with an ' good-enough explanation' for something that you never even bothered to look into because otherwise you would know that you are wrong. I'm not spiteful, I'm just pointing your flaws in logic as straightforwardly and inconsiderable as you seem to point mine, but it's not like you will actually try to understand what I'm saying because this must imply 'admitting defeat' and a kick in the ego, so you don't even bother with my transparent explanations. That's alright.

This message is for the people who are open and mature enough to read the motive behind my art and writing. This monologue is not for the ones who blindly accuse me of horrible things or a hidden agenda that I don't have or try to promote.

If you think that you know better than me, you simply don't. Why might that be? Because I am the author, because you don't think with my brain and you have no access to what I stand for, other than my words and actions and neither my words or actions stood for any type of abuse or political extremism.

You also put words into my mouth by calling me a fan of Varg, when I'm most certainly not, but I mean you hate me, of course you will say such things. Everyone who's following me knows that I not only hate Varg, but mock him daily for his spiteful persona.

I do not engage in any drama, I am not here to fight anyone.

I will only have civilized conversations (if openness exists). I am here to be and share with my friends the one thing that makes me happy. To subjugate me for simply having a different view than yours is tyranny and black and white extremism.

Pairing real people is morally bad, but this includes all real people. Not just Varg and Pelle, but Øystein and Pelle too. Doesn't sound fair now, does it? I understand why.

Anyone is free to believe anything, but a conspiratorial opinion will never compare to the ultimate truth that only the author can provide.

Please block me if you wish for. This is a far more mature approach than lurking here or sending hate. I hope this is constructive.

To sum it up, I'm beyond hate and ingoing frustration. I will gladly wish my late-proclaimed haters a wonderful day even if they roll their eyes. 🖤

You cannot change options, you can only provide your insight.

Be kind, be open, be alright 🖤

I wish this post can be shared so a lot of people can read this 🙏

[space-blue]

Prometheus as a TV series

Firstly, I want to specify that I only saw Alien, Alien Romulus, and the prequels. I'm due to watch Aliens this weekend. I've not read ANY comic or novel.

From my POV, Prometheus and Covenant are extremely weird because they are clearly excellent premises for TV series.

This was originally written in reply to someone who thought the Prequels undermined the cosmic horror by leaning too much into sci-fi and genomics around the Engineers. I argued that none of the prequels' content goes against horror and that the films are simply in the wrong format!

They're both currently terrible because people are forced into dumb exposition to cram information on the screen and dumb actions in order to make a monster movie happen inside what is otherwise an ambitious and philosophical sci-fi premise.

There's large casts of very skilled people. Fuck, in Prometheus there's one of the richest and most influential people in the human galaxy secretly aboard the ship. You'd think this would be absolutely great stuff to explore. Perfect opportunity to see how warped someone like Peter Weyland is, and also the sort of bonkers power he wields.

His relationship to his children (his daughter and his android "son") was very intriguing to me in the film, and considering how vital David 8 is to the prequels as a whole, this would have been great drama to explore further.

Focusing on Prometheus here:

A TV series would have given us a smart, not hectic Holloway. His turn to despondency could be more gradual. His difference in reaction to Shaw could, given time, explore different ways people of faith react to having that faith shaken. I think he's the main source of idiotic scenes throughout, and making him less of a wanker and more of a driven and soft spoken nerd would go a very long way.

Our extra time could also give us time to flesh out Shaw. She could reveal her infertility in a more reasonable environment, like while testing prior to the original cryo-sleep.

Starting on Earth and staying there longer would also help build the Engineers and the act of going after them as something spookier.

In general, the prequels massively sanitize space. It's also the case in Romulus. Space is treated as this negative area that is a source of hard vacuum and zero G. It's not treated as something inherently scary, but we all know that's perfectly doable.

Going to look after the "Engineers" sounds silly in the film because the team is honest to goodness just following cave paintings. They would benefit from following a lead, like perhaps finding the star system and studying it, only to detect strange emissions from it.

(Just in case you forgot, looking at a star is looking at how it was in the past. You look at a star 30,000 light years away and see how it was 30,000 years ago, when those photons left it. Which means we could reasonably pick up sus stuff that motivates a visit, but also means Holloway would understand the concept of being late to the fucking party lmao).

This entire idea, going on a very distant trip to an unknown system, could use time to have anxiety built around it. People could push with serious argument, highlight in universe disasters that happened during similar blind trips, etc. The emptiness and harshness of space are very easy to capitalise on, and going to an unknown system without sending probes first could help frame this as a risky venture, having us on edge and also showing the depth of faith of Shaw and Holloway. BUT ALSO the depth of wicked corporate slavery Weyland can go to, with the rest of the crew hired without any information that would let them make an informed choice on this job.

The arrival around the planet could be spent scanning and being professional. If we spend actual time scanning the surface and following reasonable protocols, the audience won't be poking fun at your show/film for showcasing scientists doing unsafe/idiotic stuff, and also have time to get attached to the red shirts! So it'll hurt when they begin dying!

I think the fans of alien would also appreciate a show that takes its time with the alien world discovery aspect? I feel like these films have neither the time nor the inclination to lean into the science and discovery aspect. Like it happens, but it's not indulged in or treated seriously. Yet aren't we also fans of Arrival? Of Annihilation? Or JC's Avatar?

There are scifi films out there that expect us to be invested in the discovery process, and we are! But Alien isn't one of those franchises. Every film I've seen so far has the science kept secret (Ash), already ruined (Romulus), aborted or discarded in the face of action, but also entirely handwaved or ignored (Prometheus and Covenant)

Like honest to god, you have an Android who is the only one paying attention to ALIEN WRITING and immediately knows HOW TO USE IT and nobody gives a shit, asks about it, is curious about annotating it or even learning it. It's never even mentioned? Like What the Actual Fuck? And in a film where the main goal is to find the aliens in question to have a chat to them, nobody is interested in decrypting the language??

Going back to our timeline, since we have time for the exploration process, we can begin ramping up the anxiety. We can make up some fun new stuff, like this:

What if we were blocked from communications? We could have the characters make incredible discoveries (that the buildings are made by real aliens would be exciting enough, but writing on the walls??) and promptly our crew realises that all communications are being jammed. Not between them, but between the main ship and anywhere else in the galaxy. Maybe the entire system is shrouded somehow and they have literally no idea how. Can't figure the tech behind it or its source. You can start having the one security/military guy announce they should retreat. After all, the planet is there, the buildings have been there for a very long time, they should go and come back later. It'd be more secure to figure out the range of this jamming and maybe call in reinforcement.

We can start dividing the crew! With all the scientists basically too over the moon to mind, and Weyland a silent driving force who doesn't give a shit!!

I think that Holloway sticking to protocol and not removing his helmet at all would help making the confusion and angst greater if he started showing symptoms like his wormy eyes. When did it happen? Was bringing the head aboard a mistake? Was that all it took? ((David grinning in the background))

We could then enjoy an entire episode of mounting paranoia and terror as the show splits between the geologist and biologist stranded in the building and the Prometheus crew growing paranoid and further divided: what if the team was split between the science crew and the ship crew? The scientists are containing Holloway and getting absolutely horrified by what they see happening to him, while the workers are being kept in the dark and told nothing.

A downtrodden and disrespected Wey-yu worker POV wouldn't hurt!

I personally think that Holloway basically morphing/dissolving/losing himself in front of the scientists while they all fail to understand what's happening to him and are completely incapable of stabilising him would be far more horrifying than his suicide by immolation at the hands of a neurotic billionaire. It would also make David's jab about Shaw's dad dying of Ebola more impactful. Rewatched the movie recently and was like "what, her dad died burnt alive before her too??? Oh..."

By the time David finds an Engineer alive, tensions could be high enough that the ship would be on the cusp of mutiny. A good writer could make us really feel 50-50 on "value of answers from a live engineer" vs. "getting the fuck away from this planet".

Also "the engineers are us, we have the same DNA" bit is flat out stupid and leaves a million more questions than it answers, and zero mystery besides. This concept could be much better explored for angst. There are so many directions we could go!

Their DNA could contain every human genome and then more. It could change while it's observed. It could be related to us without being a perfect match. Better yet: it could refuse observation, making every machine bug out and return invalid results. Just stuff to keep us on our toes while David does his parallel observations on the black goo.

Even if we go in depth in the genomics, explaining the thing doesn't have to destroy the appeal of the thing.

I think in particular that we could explain the engineers themselves as our creators and users of the goo, only to thicken the plot as we realise they have no fucking clue what they're doing with it and we're a stray experiment left to run wild in a forgotten petri dish. The idea that the engineers used but did not understand the goo, that it was a tool they inherited themselves from fucking around darker, deeper corners of the galaxy, would be cool.

WORSE yet, it would be interesting to discover they themselves were made by some other culture/force/entity/creation process, and we are like... a by-product. What if we are the David 8 of the engineers, who are the David 8's of something else yet? Or that the Engineers aren't even "made in the image of" their creators? Maybe the whole likeness (between them, us, and our androids) is just a recent tendency we're showing, but not something the Engineers have to share with their own creators.

We could come seeking answers, and realise the Engineers didn't even have any themselves. We could be left to realise we are just the mold on the rind of a cheese, far from understanding the intricacies of 5-star dining. That's how far removed we are from understanding the forces at play.

This would be plenty cosmic horror.

God is a well polished concept, but we have a very narrow and human centric understanding of it, and it may be meaningless. Imagine if you saw Shaw lose faith only to regain it with a streak of madness? Imagine if we had the time to explore what a cosmic horror on the scale of "At the mountains of madness" would do to a religious modern person who has come searching answers and found more than she could take?

If Shaw were a Lovecraft protag, she'd say stuff like the black goo being the blood of the gods that made the Engineers, all bled dry now. Weird poetic shit should come back xD

Also. Close your eyes for a second and imagine the scene of David speaking to the Engineer. And for the lolz, let's say that the Engineer speaks back, and David adjusts, and they end up having what looks like a meaningful exchange of a few words.

Then the Engineer pats his head and wrenches him apart, and the ending comes around, only for David to staunchly refuse to ever elaborate on what the Engineer told him. Certainly another great reason to keep him around...

I hope I've made my point. If more than 50 people lose their shit on this post, I'll make a Covenant TV show post too, though it's more of a fixer-upper.

Bonus for reaching the end, a happy David:

The ultimate argument, of course, is that given 16-18 episodes of great Prometheus TV, we would have had so much more David...