#because he barely has much to work with from canon you just kind of have to make things up and i get to experiment with making him a

[mejaemin]

best part- na jaemin

+18 mdni !!

wc: 1.9k

summary: jaemin loves you so, so much. but he loves waking up next to you even more.

warnings: established relationship, fem reader, unprotected sex, oral (fem rec), love making, morning sex, praise/body worship

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

when jaemin wakes up, it’s usually kind of annoying because it means another day of work and other things he doesn’t want to do. however, today is different because the higher power blessed him with a mutual off day between him and you. when his eyes fluttered open at the golden sunlight peeking through the window, he went to shield his eyes but found his arm, without feeling, trapped under the weight of your head.

immediately upon remembering that you were home with him, any trace of enmity that he had towards waking up completely dissipated. the sun left a beautiful golden glow across your skin. he chuckled to himself upon taking note of the glow of your skin, from the lovely “spa day” you received the night before.

with the arm that still had feeling, jaemin reached for his phone on the bedside table. as a photographer, he knows better than to let such beautiful scenery go without taking photos first. his canon’s storage along with his phone gallery is full of photos of you, being that he never strays from said photography rule. what can he say, his idea of beautiful scenery is always you, even when you’re hunched over the toilet letting go of donghyuck’s surprise dinner.

after capturing at least twenty photos of your beauty, he puts the phone down and begins repositioning to resume cuddling into you. when he manually lifts his numb arm from under your head, you stir and turn over to face him with a pout. in the process, his heavy comforter falls from your shoulder and reveals your bare chest, littered in his teeth marks. admiring his work, he can’t help but wolf whistle at the sight.

in response, you scrunch your nose and roll your eyes. “morning breath, na jaemin.” he watches you pull the blanket up over your body and turn away before he responds.

”awe, boohoo.” he mumbles into your neck, slipping an arm around your bare hips as he begins kissing a line down your nape.

his half hard cock begins twitching to life when you sigh at his efforts, pressing your ass into him. he and you both slept bare after last night’s events, so the feeling of your soft skin against his length had him shuddering.

unable to wait any longer, jaemin repositioned you both so that he was now above you, resting on his elbows that caged your head in. “you look so pretty, baby. all marked up like that.”

he’s almost sure he hears ‘nana’ leave your lips but he’ll never truly know because his lips are on yours, splitting them open with his tongue to lovingly glide across your own. before he fully pulls away, he catches your plump bottom lip between his teeth and lets it snap back against your gums.

“fuck, i really fucking love you.” he sighs, fighting the urge to push his way into you when his tip bumps against your clit.

for a solid minute he just stares at you, once again enamored of your body, one he is able to have all to himself. his eyes flutter shut when your fingers graze his scalp, pulling him back down to your lips.

“i love you too, nana.” you whisper, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep and being used so intensely the previous night.

he pressed his face back into your neck, absentmindedly sucking another love bite into the skin while he finds the words he wants.

he pulls away, pressing a kiss to your new mark before continuing a trail down your neck. “you look so pretty right now.. in the sun.” he says while hovering over the dip in between your breasts. he obviously has more to say but waits, prioritizing the need to wrap his lips around your nipple, swirling it around his tongue and pulling it between his teeth before switching to the other.

he leaves a searing trail of saliva from your chest down to just above your navel, where he presses a soft kiss to the skin. just to the right there’s a faint handprint on your hip. his thumb grazes over it gently before he speaks up. “i really need you right now,” he looks up at you, his cheek laying against your stomach as he traces the outline of his handprint. your name leaves his lips with a slight whine. “i’ll be gentle. i just really want to love you right now.”

jaemin sighs, picking his head up as he kisses his way down to where he loves to be, gently kissing the bite marks he left previously. once he finally sits himself between your legs, he’s nearly completely covered by the blanket and can only see a sliver of your face. however, this isn’t a total concern of his when he’s about to drown in your pussy, getting his hair tugged just the way he needs on a lazy morning such as today.

before he falls back asleep, the ache in his dick and your breathy pleas bring him back to life, immediately leaning forward and licking a long stripe up your slit. he groans at the taste, still tasting a hint of himself. his eyes shut when you grip his hair and push him back into your heat. thankfully, there’s nowhere he’d rather be so he embraces your need, dipping his tongue into your entrance. he throws your legs over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around your hips to keep you close.

maybe it’s the joy of being with you after a long period of work traveling but something in his heart makes him feel as if the best way to be close to you is sexually. with the help of his arms, his tongue begins thrusting into you, curling and flattening and grabbing at all the arousal that leaves you. his nose bumps into your clit, forcing squeaky mewls out of you that drives him to work a little harder.

detaching himself to take a short breath, surely not enough to keep him from suffocating, he pulls your clit into his mouth and flicks it with his tongue. one of his hands goes to dip two fingers into your entrance, immediately curling and scissoring you open. at this point in time he’s sure he’s edged himself at least three times with the amount of autonomous force his hips use to thrust into the mattress. he can’t be mad at this however, because as soon as his fingers pick up their pace you whine out his name, clenching your thighs around his head as you climax.

through the gap in the blanket he can see your lip between your teeth, eyes rolled all the way back in your brain as your high courses through you. at the sight, he moans, a sound far too desperate to admit he let out, blissfully overstimulated by the sound of blood rushing through his ears paired with your hips twitching against his face. he can’t help but be entirely too aroused by pleasuring you. your voice is more beautiful than his favorite singer’s and your taste is better than his favorite food. nothing compares to making you cum on such cozy mornings and that’s why they’re his favorite.

once your hips calm down, he pulls himself back up and catches his breath. while doing so, he pushes his soiled fingers between your lips. his dick begins to hurt at the sight of you drinking yourself up so willingly, grabbing his wrist to put his middle fingers entirely into your mouth.

“you taste so fucking good, right baby? i can’t get enough. but now, i think you’re ready for something better. is that okay?” he pulls his hand from your mouth and strokes your cheek gently.

when you nod, he almost cheers but holds it in for the sake of not ruining the moment. instead, he holds his tongue and instead kisses you, giving you the type of kiss that he’d normally save for a time like cuddling, or going on a date. it’s something he saves for romantic moments, but that’s exactly what he feels this is. there’s no other emotion running through his veins except for pure, sheer love. as soon as he woke up and saw your beautiful, peaceful expression in the morning’s golden hour, it’s all he felt. it’s all he ever feels for you and that’s what he’s going to show you now.

jaemin sits up, gently grabbing your thighs and wrapping them around his waist. his cock sits against your slit and for a few moments he stays that way, staving off his orgasm. when he finally composes himself, he pumps his length a few times before pushing himself all the way in. you didn’t have too much trouble taking him due to his previous preparations so he immediately began to move, albeit slowly.

as he lowers himself back down to be face to face with you, he removed your stray hairs from your face and kisses your forehead. with each soft thrust of his hips, he kisses you once again. he slides one arm under your neck, hugging you close to him so he can keep his lips on yours. his other hand glides over your body, tracing your curves and gripping every inch of your skin. it truly shocked him that such beauty was all his, and it was wrapped around him right now, fluttering and clenching around his cock because it wanted him. the thought has him keening, groaning into the crook of your neck as he calls your name.

”fuck.. oh my god, baby, it’s so good.. i’m so close. please tell me you are too..” he whines, hips involuntarily jerking as he thrusts into you. he’s not being rough, opting for slow and deep movements, but it’s his arousing thoughts that bring him close to the edge.

”oh, yes, nana, i’m so close.. please, babe, i- fuck!” you whine. jaemin feels you start pushing yourself into him, moving in sync with his thrusts.

the hand he slid over your body now moves between your legs, rubbing at your clit in an attempt to get you to cum before him.

”oh, fuck, baby, i love you so much. you’re gonna cum for me? oh please, im gonna- shit, cum with me baby. show me how much you love me.” he rambles, hopelessly moaning and grunting into your ear.

if it’s not his fingers, he’s sure his voice is what tips you over the edge, a loud moan escaping your lips as you finally reach your peak around him. he finally falls over the edge at the feeling, hips stuttering and coming to a halt as he spills himself deep inside you. his vision nearly blacks out, his eyes hurting as he gets the relief he so desperately desired. when he finally comes to, you’re right there with him, a content smile on your lips as you watch him come back to life.

reluctantly, he pulls out and falls back to his spot on the bed, bringing you back into his arms as you were before. the sun is no longer golden, implying that it is now reaching daytime, but it doesn’t deter him from falling asleep to the same face that he considers beautiful at any time of day. if he wasn’t so tired already he’d grab his phone and take more photos, but he’s content with breaking his own rules to fall asleep with the comforting idea that waking at sunrise to make love to you is infinitely better.

fin

oh brother ive never done this before did it look right??

[deviousdiesel]

.

[rueclfer]

heyy there can i request some more touya headcannons? i really enjoy your way of picturing him because it’s just so canon and he’s kinda a lovely dick y’know. whatever comes to ur mind. thank u so much!!

weelll since you gave me so much freedom here r some touya as a housemate hcs ANNDD a moodboard bc i enjoy the visualization <3 since we talked abt this the other day too !! (i yapped so hard here sry sry this is so indulgent)

bakugou's and sero's version too hehe

housemates // touya todoroki

touya hates the idea of living with a complete stranger or one of his siblings, so what other option does he have other than forcing his best friend (crush) on a lease with him?

the newfound freedom definitely puts him on his ass for a few weeks. barely sleeps. eats like shit. trash is scattered everywhere. several unpacked boxes. it stays like this until fuyumi comes over to check our the place and gives you two a hard scolding to get your shit together.

more often than not, you'd end up waking up on the couch with your legs sprawled out across his lap and his upper half leaned over the couch arm rest in deep sleep. staying up so late was probably one of his favorite things about living together. being able to talk as loud as you wanted, watch movies late into the night, look over the city from your balcony- he found solitude in existing with you.

if he wasn't already codependent before moving in together, just know his ass will be GLUED TO YOU. you'd be doing work in your room and he'd barge in and flop down on your bed without a word. maybe he'd gotten a bit too comfortable.

if he's feeling extra annoying that day, he'd bring in his guitar and amp and keep asking you to rate his riffs until you entirely give up on work and give him some attention.

is it obvious his love language is quality time? not only that, gift giving too. he's like a fucking crow.

"look what i found. it's a rock. for you."

makes him soooo giddy to see your display of the rocks, feathers, and dried up flowers he picked up for you on his walk. sometimes you'd come home and there'd be a new addition to the ever growing collection.

ofc you'd return the energy in a different way. touya will not cook for himself. ever. he eats like shit as an internal rebellion against the healthy diet he was forced upon as a kid, but you will not allow that boy to rot himself from the inside out!! he can expect several tupperwares of portioned out meals with notes attached to the lids if you know he'd be home all day by himself.

"to t <3. if you don't eat every last bite i'll find out and it'll hurt my feelings and i might combust into flames or something idk don't risk it!"

i can also imagine him holding back tears whenever you ever come into his room to hand him a bowl of cut up fruit. the first time you do it he'd be speechless like jaw dropped taken aback. has he ever felt love like this??? i think not.

despite all of the kind gestures, he's still touya todoroki. hides your keys if you annoyed him that morning by rushing him in the bathroom and makes you a few minutes late to class/work. chronic door slammer. pisses with the door wide open. no sense of privacy and do not gaf to knock. always locking himself out -> i feel strongly about this like imagine coming home after a long day and he's sitting out in the hallway with a pouty face waiting for you hehehe.

i don't think he'd realize this crush until a few months after you've moved in together. how could he when you two practically already act and bicker like an old married couple?

yes- peanut butter belongs in the fridge. no- it doesn't. stop leaving your socks everywhere. you forget to flush again. stop slamming the doors. you ate my chips, didn't you? don't lie. did you really need to put the mugs up that high? (he does it on purpose, and tightens the lid to every jar too.)

it wasn't until one late evening when he comes home to find you frantically mixing a doughy substance in a large metal bowl. you never bake, but you have your own oven now, so why not?

"god, finally. help me, my arms hurt." you groan, shoving the bowl in his hands. "i think i fucked up."

he sees the hurricane aftermath of your kitchen- flour everywhere, egg shells left on the counter, every single jar imaginable opened and scattered around. he could be teasing you about the mess, but god you looked so beautiful with that stupid wrinkle in between your eyebrows as you read over the recipe, and the streaks of flour across your pant leg from wiping your hands, and the way you swipe away the stray pieces of hair falling in your face with the back of your hand- oh fuck.

he thinks he's falling in love with you.

he swallows it, but he starts acting kinda weird around the apartment.

like he's.... avoiding you?

living with his best friend whom he just so happens to develop a crush for, would eat him alive. he locks himself in his room and chain smoke out his window while he's stressing the fuck out. he told you he'd stop smoking, but he's sure you'd understand the need for it right now. he hopes you can't smell it.

i also think he'd be a stress cleaner lmaaoo he cannot sit still with his thoughts for too long, so the headphones are ON and blasting and he'll definitely use that as a scapegoat + the loud ass vacuum for ignoring you if you try to talk to him while he's on this cleaning frenzy.

you think he's sick LMAO imagine the pain he feels when you come knocking on his door and calling out that you're leaving a bowl of soup and cough medicine outside his door for him. he doesn't tell you that yeah he's sick but *not in that way*

lovesick. that boy is lovesick!!!!!!

how do you avoid your housemate while you figure out how to control your feelings?

he confesses via note that he leaves on the kitchen counter. really simple tbh nothing too extravagant, but he signs off by telling you that he's staying crashing at fuyumi's for a couple days.

you text him a string of obscenities to get his ass back home and he does (he's scared of you).

he CAANNOOTT talk about his feelings in an adult way. he is sitting on the complete opposite side of the couch, twiddling his thumbs, and staring down at his feet like a child while you reread his confession note out loud to him. you find his discomfort hilarious but endearing. he finds you unbearably insufferable.

jesus the amount of times in that apartment where he would storm off to his room whenever you two got in an argument or you pissed him off...old habits die hard, you guess, because this isn't the todoroki household anymore and you aren't scared to lose that deposit and kick a door down.

once you corner him and get him to open up about his feelings the air in the room suddenly shift!! the clouds are clearing and the sun is shining woooowww look at what good communication can do.

sharing an apartment with your BOYFRIEND is no different than sharing one with your best friend. i think he'd like to keep your separate bedrooms to have your own space, but you'll rarely sleep apart.

so! many! new! traditions!

helping him dye his hair on the first saturday of every month. biweekly horror movie marathons. counting the communal piggy bank ever couple months. trying new takeout spots until you find THE spot for every category- chinese, pizza, ramen, etc etc.

and finally, an everlasting mark on your first apartment together: a small carved out heart around your initials left on the inner corner of a kitchen cabinet done with his pocket knife on a random weekday evening while you two are cooking dinner together.

-

touya tag: @moonchild701 @kaldurahms-lover @themultifandomgirl @devilslittlehelper @porusuniverse @ratatellie @katbug37 @ggriwm

[yoditopascal]

Like A Prayer (Part 4)

summary: best friends with wade you’re always being dragged into something even when he’s not trying to, what are you to do when you find the fate of your timeline in the hands of yourself, your chaotic merc and an angry wolverine who’s hellbent on drinking himself to death?

content warning: romance, some angst, a little fluff, character deaths, canon-typical violence, smut, lots of cussing, mutual pining, found family, drug and alcohol use, reader insert but with no use of y/n cuz I hate that shit, deadpool being deadpool, mentions of poor mental health (depression anxiety and ptsd mostly), scent marking, the honda odyssey scene needs a warning all on its own MINORS DNI

a/n: edited by the ever so lovely karmiccc on ao3! Comments and criticisms are welcome!

tag list: sorry if you weren’t tagged I tried tagging everyone that asked but some usernames didn’t work! @allmyn1ghts @blooket-scares-me @amararosesblog @talanyra @spideybv28 @sadslasher13 @night-spectrum @eveieforeve02

Previous Chapter//Next Chapter

On Your Left Babygirl

Wade watches from the corner of his eye as your feet drag behind you, the now limp Wolverine was pressing his full mass into the two of you, and you were clearly struggling with the newly added weight.

“One Anchor Being coming right up, on your left, baby girl!”

“This Logan has everything! He can do pretty much anything the old model could plus he even sings musicals! And he’s actually wearing a costume like he’s not embarrassed to be in a superhero movie for once!”

“I don’t understand.”

“You said my universe is dying, because this sad sack of nuts got himself killed. Well, problem solved!”

“Y-you actually think you can replace an Anchor Being with this?” Paradox says between laughs pointing at Wolverine still on the floor. “I wouldn’t have accepted any other Wolverine bee tee dubs, but you’ve brought me the absolute worst Wolverine there is!

“What do you mean the worst one?” Wade asked, walking closer to Paradox.

Just as Wade was less than an arm’s length away from Paradox, you saw the off brand Mr. Darcy reachout and grab something behind his back. You jump forward placing yourself in between the two men just as Paradox drew his weapon.

“Wade watch-!” You don’t get to finish your sentence as Wade watches in absolute horror as you disintegrate into nothing in front of him.

Wade falls to his knees as if trying to catch your particles that were still floating about in the air before disappearing entirely.

The distinct snikt of Wolverine unleashing his claws breaks Wade out of his trance as he watches the Wolverine, now back on his feet, lunge for Paradox with his claws in pure rage before disappearing too.

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

Logan groans as he sits up, cracking his neck back into place. He raises a hand to shield his face from the harsh rays of the sun above him as he lets out a sharp hiss from the incoming headache he was starting to get from the combination of the fall and all the alcohol he drank earlier.

Barely starting to sober up, he looks around himself with a grunt as he stands, taking in the environment around himself.

If he had to guess he’d had no idea where the fuck he was. The scene around him was dry and arid like a desert, only this one didn’t seem familiar to him at all. There was all kinds of trash and debris around him like it had been dumped here and forgotten. Taking in a few greedy inhales, Logan scented the air, coming back with only faint traces of smoke, dirt and something else, something sweet and fresh and familiar but still different at the same time.

Turning his head to follow the source of the smell Logan spots you, laid out face first on the ground. He walks up to you apprehensively, not knowing if he could trust you or not but as he approaches he realizes you’re out cold.

Getting a closer look at you now he’s able to take in your features up close. If you were a shapeshifter of some kind like he previously thought, you were a hell of a good one. At first glance you looked just like her, the same hair and big doe eyes that used to look up at him. You were even dressed the same way.

Squatting down to your level Logan’s able to get a much better whiff of you from here. There’s no mistaking a scent, even when Morph and Mystique used to try and trick him back in the day but it never worked because they could never change their smell.

There was no doubt about it, the smell was definitely yours. Shamefully Logan found his eyes wandering down your frame slowly as he drank you in, eyes lingering on your ass for a few seconds before turning you over onto your back, and God, even your face was the same. The longer he looked at you the more he realized you really were her. Only, you had less pronounced smile lines, and were less muscular, having probably only known peace in your life, you had appeared more softer than she had been. Just as his gloved hand was a breath away from caressing your cheek, he’s ripped from his inspection by the sound of something heavy hitting the ground behind him.

Standing to his feet, he looks back at you one last time before looking at the disfigured body of the guy in red from before as his bones snap back into place. He sniffs the air again, realizing the man that had just fallen from the sky. He smelled absolutely rancid to him, stinking of blood, gunpowder and a distinct sickly cancerous smell.

Definitely a threat. Logan concludes as he starts to walk up to him.

Wade coughs as he rolls over onto his back, looking down between his legs as Wolverine walked up to him, stopping right as his feet, “Don’t just stand there, you big ape. Give me a hand!”

Wolverine stared down at him, his hazel eyes swirling with contempt and silent fury as he unsheathed his claws.

“No, I’m actually okay, thank you,” Wade barely finishes his sentence before he’s being stabbed through both his sides, letting out a sharp curse as Logan hoists him in the air like a kebab.

“Where the hell are we?!” He demands.

“I don’t know! It all looks kinda Mad Maxy but that would be copyright infringement, wouldn’t it?!” Wade cries out as Wolverine harshly drops him to the ground.

“Fucking jokes,” Logan scoffs before turning his back to him, walking towards your still unconscious form.

“Hey hey! You stay away from my pookie bear, you hear me?” Wade warns as he cocks his gun pointing it at the back of Wolverine’s head.

“Or what?” He dared the man to continue.

Wade lowers his gun as he realizes how fast the situation was starting to escalate, his eyes dart back and forth between you and the very ready to rip his guts out Wolverine before he curses to himself. After putting his gun away, Wade raises his hands up in the air as a way to appease Logan as he began to warily approach him.

“Look, we don't have time for this alright? If we don’t make it back to that Paradox asshole. Everyone I know is going to die,” Wade starts to explain the situation to him but Logan rolls his eyes as he turns back around, continuing to walk towards you.

“No, my fucking problem,” Logan replies coldly as he waves him off.

Wade felt his blood boil. He was never a patient man, nor a very nice one, but compared to this guy? He was a fucking saint. It was an insult to everyone that his Anchor being replacement had to be such a dick.

“Is that what you said when your world went to shit?” Wade shoots back to Wolverine, stopping him in his tracks again.

“Come again?” Logan growls, turning back to face him.

“Yeah, I heard all about you.” Wade began as he turned around, becoming increasingly exasperated by the situation at hand, ”You screwed up everything, but you really should be thanking me for pulling you out of that bed you shit-“

Wade let out a scream as searing pain shot through his body. Looking down he sees the infamous adamantium claws of Wolverine protruding through his chest.

“Oh, you backstabbing son of a bitch!” Wade grunts in agony as he’s hoisted in the air again, this time on his back.

Fighting back against the pain, Wade uses his own momentum to flip himself behind Wolverine, throwing them both onto their backs on the ground, the blades of the Wolverine’s claws tearing more of his flesh and bone on their way out as he did so. Without missing a beat Wade pressed his guns against Wolverine’s sides and shot out several rounds as the older man let out a guttural scream of pain.

“Are you ready to be calm now?” Wade asks almost mockingly, guns still pressed to Wolverine’s ribs.

He’s met immediately with a headbutt, no doubt breaking his nose underneath the mask.

“Fuck!” Wade swears in pain as Wolverine rolls off him.

Not giving Wade any time to gather his bearings, the older mutant grabs him by his ankles before throwing him into a wall. Wade heard the bones in his arm snap as he crashed through the cement wall, tumbling backwards against a sunken monument that seemed familiar to him. Wade groaned as he stumbled back up to his feet, his arm snapped back into place painfully as he reloaded his gun.

“I don’t want to fight you, Peanut! Doesn’t matter what you did. I just need your help.” Wade called over to Wolverine as he stood across from him in the wasteland.

“I don’t fucking care,” Logan snaps back as he spits out a smoking bullet, the rest falling from his torso, his healing factor working over time to push them out.

“Fuck, this is gonna hurt,” Wade says more so to himself than anyone else, “Alright! Fuck it! Let’s give the people what they came for!”

“Let’s fucking go,” Logan says as he crouches down to his knees, readying himself for whatever Wade was about to throw at him.

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

You take a sharp much needed inhale through your nose as the final bone in your spine snaps back into place. Sputtering out a cough you sat up bltrying to block out the blinding light of the sun with your hand as a headache pulsed through your skull. Looking around you slowly take in the dilapidated scenery around you.

Where the hell were you? You thought to yourself as you looked down at your watch to check the time.

The screen was broken, a crack having spiderwebbed across the screen. You weren’t exactly sure when it had broken but from what you could tell from when it had stopped working it was well beyond midnight.

“Oh I’m so fucking fired tomorrow,” You say with a groan as you rise to your feet dusting yourself off.

The sound of shouting and rapid gunfire drew your attention in the distance. Approaching the sound as cautiously as you could, you peek over a mound of rubble to find Wade being held down by an enraged Wolverine with Wade’s katanas and baby knife sticking out of him, reminding you of a human pin cushion.

“Let’s see you grow your fucking head back!” He shouts as he goes to sink his claws into Wade’s throat.

Picking up the first thing you see laying around you run up behind the Wolverine hitting him in the head as hard as you could, breaking the branch in your hands on impact. With a heavy grunt, he stumbles off of Wade onto the ground.The Wolverine clutches his ear as he snaps his head up to glare at his assailant. The rage in his eyes shifts to shock as you stand over wade protectively, glaring down at him with your broken branch raised high and at the ready for you to swing at him again if need be.

Snapping out of his daze, Wolverine gets to his feet and with his claws sheathed going to strike the red suited clown again, when hastily Wade rises to his feet, immediately moving you behind him with his hands raised up in surrender.

“Wait, wait, I can fix it! I know how to fix it!” Wade shouted at the Wolverine not willing to put you or himself in the Wolverine’s wraith.

“Fix what?” Wolverine asks has he slowly starts to lower his fist as he looks back and forth between you two.

“Whatever it is that you did that made you so bad! Those freaks in the TVA, they have the power to end our universe, but they can also change yours!” Wade says pushing you further behind him, not liking how the man was eyeing you.

Logan looks between the two of you incredulously as if trying to understand if what Wade just told him was true or not.

“Well?” He asks gruffly, eyes now completely focused on you.

Realizing he was talking to you and that your answer might be his deciding factor on whether or not to help you, you take a deep breath as you walk out from behind Wade who looks at you skeptically for a moment.

“We just traveled the multiverse trying to find you because of the TVA,” You began with a surprised chuckle still reeling in that fact that you actually did do that as you returned Logan's intense gaze,“Until today I didn’t think any of this kinda stuff was possible… But it is so I believe him,” You said exchanging a look with Wade as you finish, he nods his head to you almost in thanks.

Logan stares at you a bit longer before letting out a frustrated huff as he looks away, sheathing his claws. You nearly let out a beath of relief at the sight until the older man resumed his attention on you two again. The Wolverine looked back and forth between the two of you as he felt his nerves starting to grate again.

“How the fuck do you know this clown?” Logan asks annoyed, his fists were down at his sides but still balled up ready to fight again if he needed to.

Peeking over Wade’s shoulder, you part your lips about to answer him when suddenly you're cut off by a new voice.

“Hey! We fight each other, we lose,” Said a voice from above you all.

Puzzled, you all look up in the direction the voice came from.

“Who the hell is that?” You asked scrunching your face up in confusion as you use a hand to block out the harsh rays of the sun from your vision.

“Dear God its him…” Wade said, astonished.

“Who?” You asked as you and Wolverine share a confused glance.

Above you, on a worn down billboard, stood a man. He was covered in loose fitting dark clothes with a hood draped over him, blocking his face from view.

“That my little chocolate drop is the One. The superhero equivalent to comfort food or molly. White guys’ answer to all the disappointments in another A-lister,” Wade went on rambling as the cloaked man jumped down and landed before the three of you.

“Now that’s a superhero landing!” Wade clapped as the cloaked man turned to point out into the desert

“They're coming,” The man said.

Alarmed, you all look in the direction of his focus. On the horizon you all could see three cars speeding towards you, all three of the giving off serious Mad Max vibes.

“Well they’re definitely driving angry,” Wade joked, though you could tell by the drop in his voice that he was assessing the entire situation very much aware of the danger you two were about to be in.

“I got this,” The cloaked man said pulling down his hood to reveal a familiar face, “Stay close.”

“Aye aye, Cap,” Wade says walking up behind him to wrap his arms around the man before he pulls them off of him awkwardly.

As the cars neared they circled around the four of you a few times, some of the men blew out crude whistles making you cringe in disgust as you clutched your broken branch to your chest. Finally they stopped, their vehicles parked around you, caging you four in.

“Cassandra is going to be giddy when she sees what we caught!” A man with stringy greasy hair grins, showing off his filthy teeth to the group, “You know you can’t run.”

“You see anyone running, dick for brains? You’re not gonna love what happens next,” The cloaked man retorted.

“Oh my god, he’s going to say it!” Wade says smacking one of his katana’s that still protruded from the Wolverine’s chest.

Logan stumbled back a bit with a weak ‘ah fuck’ as you instinctively reached out to steady him. He turned his head to look at you as soon as he felt your hands on him. You held his eyes for less than a second before abruptly removing yourself from him, now focusing on looking at anything else but him.

“Avengers Assem-!” Wade begins to shout as if anticipating what the cloaked man was about to say, however that’s not what he said at all.

“Flame on!”

“Sorry, what now?”

The cloaked man shot out into the sky in a ball of fire. He hovered over everyone for a moment before blasting out a stream of fire directly at the greasy man that had spoken before. The greasy man grins as he holds his hand out, absorbing the flames before he twists his fingers cutting off the cloaked man’s power like a faucet. The man barely had a second to register what happened before he began his miserable descent from the sky. He hit the billboard he was standing on before twice before flopping on the ground, completely unconscious.

“We don’t know that guy,” the Wolverine was quick to say.

“We thought we did,” Wade agreed as he looked over the unconscious man before turning back to the group of thugs.

“Oh but I know you,” A beastly looking man with pitch black eyes said as he dropped down to their level from atop a car.

His dark orbs were fixated on Wolverine, who returned his glare with his own as he bared his teeth at him with a growl.

“Holy shit… Sabretooth… your brother,” Wade said, a hint of excitement in his voice as he looked between the two.

“Ready to die?” Sabertooth asked as he stalked towards them, eyes never leaving Wolverine.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! Time!” Wade calls out as he begins to remove his weapons from Wolverine’s body giving him a long winded nonsensical pep talk in normal Wade fashion.

“Shut the fuck up!” Wolverine growls out, shoving him back into you.

What an asshole you thought to yourself with a scrunched up face.

The Wolverine lowered himself into a fighting stance before the two mutants lunged for each other. The two collided briefly in the middle as the familiar sound of metal tearing against bone and flesh rang through the air, before sliding past each other entirely. Both brothers stood on opposite sides of the dry field.

“What is it, girl? Is there trouble at the well?” Wade mocked with an innocent tilt of his head.

You might’ve laughed at the Lassie reference if it wasn’t for the fact that not a second later Sabretooth’s head rolled off his shoulders and right at your feet. You scrunched up your nose again, turning your head away in disgust as Wade picked it up.

“Behold! The head of your precious Queen, Furiosa! I have the Wolverine! I alone control her! You come for me! You come for her!” Wade declares as he raises the head in the air like a prize before he leans over into Logan’s ear, “I’m so sorry. I know it’s pronounced him. I’m gender blind. It’s my cross to bear.” Logan simply rolls his eyes at him.

“Who’s next?” He challenges looking around at the men who were left, waiting for someone to step up to him.

The greasy man let out an amused chuckle before calling out to one of his partners ��Toad! You’re up!”

You look towards the other mutant and resist the urge to cringe again as he shoots out his slimy green tongue and pulls a lever. Instantly it activates a giant metal magnet that drags both Wade and Wolverine off their feet and into its pull.

“Wade!” you called out, unaware as a giant sentinel leg comes flying at you from behind, stunning you as it flies towards your companions, carrying you with it.

“Oh fu-“ Was all Wolverine had managed to get out before you and the sentinel leg crashed into him and Wade, knocking out the three of you on impact.

[signed-loni]

HELLO LOVELY PEOPLE. I was in class today, and yk, i just couldn’t help but be bored and thought to myself “hey, what about head canons for sal and brainiac!y/n?” Good idea if i do say so myself! I also thought about whether it should be todds sister, but i changed my mind since idk i just, idk. SOOOO HERES THATT and enjoy! :)

(Lets just appreciate this amazing work. Truly, props to the artist this is so, yes.) (@paint_soda on ig!)

How it happened HCs

Tbh, the school didn’t see this coming. A brainiac with a person like sal? No one saw it coming, not even Larry, and Larry knows everything about his best friend. From his measurements (not like that) to his least favorite kind of pasta

and you didn’t really see it coming either! You honestly just fell really hard one day because sal got one of the hardest questions you’ve come upon, right, before you

You gotta say, you’re a sucker for the smart ones

While you’ve never seen his face, you have seen him around school with his small group of friends

You have your little clique, but recently, they’ve been shit talking you.

Saying things about you, calling you names and starting rumors, things like slut and whore being tossed around since one of your friends ex boyfriend had a crush on you

Youre not the kind of stereotypical nerd. Oh no, you arent.

You are most definitely not

Sal fell for you, mostly because of YOUR brains to

He likes that in a person. Someone who’s pretty, and smart!? He’s on the floor.

General relationship HCs

You don’t know how to explain it, well you do, but you always say it in the same way

Sal is the best boyfriend ever.

Sal knows everything thing about you, and you know everything about him

He knows your least favorite way to solve a problem for goodness sake

He knows the way you play with your fingers when your focusing on finding the solution to a question

He knows how you sit when you’re uncomfortable

He knows everything

You know almost the same amount he knows about you, about him

You know how he hold onto his pigtails when he’s afraid, you know how insecure he is about his face

He’s glad he’s dating someone like you. Its not like he’s dumb or anything, but he knows you definitely helped Larry, and he knows that he helped you get out of your toxic friend group.

You don’t talk about it much, but he knows

He’s seen it

He’s seen them look at you and him holding hands in the hallways, he’s seen them whisper to each other while looking at you, laughing to themselves.

It makes him mad

You always tell him your a big girl and can handle it, but he knows it kills you to see your once friends, now hate you because of one silly thing

If having rizz was a crime, you would be arrested

Cause MAN can you make sal FLUSTERED

The compliments, the PDA, the PINKY HOLDING. Sal has stopped working once you hold his pinky for the first time

He doesn’t mind holding hands, but you know he prefers pinkies.

Its amazing how you don’t react when seeing his face to him. Larry didn’t react, but he barely got to see. You got to see for a full minute. And sal thought you hated him because of how much you didnt react

Which sounds silly, but to him, it wasnt

He thought you hated his face so much, you decided it was to horrid to even comment on

But all those thoughts were cleared when you kissed him

Kissed his lips

Kissed his scars

Kissed him

He knew right then and there, that you were the one for him. His and his only

[tomieafterdark]

Toxic!Eren drabble (18+ minors dni) 

Synopsis: you want to break up but your bf is too toxic to allow that. 

Recently I had a conversation with someone and it kind of inspired this drabble (If you feel like Eren is not like canon Eren here, it is because his personality here is also based on whoever inspired this smut), except he did not fuck me after saying he would leak shit if i backstabbed him. Also a tiny disclaimer: I feel like this is obvious but I will say it anyway, everything written in this is purely fictional and should be kept that way. If anyone tries this with you in real life, get help. This is also not an accurate representation of my dynamic with whoever this smut is based on, he just has his “moments” and I like making smut out of them. That is all.

About ten minutes ago, you told Eren you wanted to break up. Things aren’t working out, and he’s way too much for you right now. Instead of having a normal reaction, he does the unthinkable—threatening to leak certain information about you and certain pictures.

It hurts you deeply, not to the core but close enough. Trust isn’t easy to build up, and it was even worse for you considering your past wounds that still haven’t healed. Every bit of trust you had built up just shattered in that moment, as if it was never there to begin with. 

He is dangerously good with words, sometimes it makes you feel like you’re his puppet and he pulls the strings whenever he wants to. Even if you can resist his words, his intense stare will pull you in instead. He has the most beautiful eyes, of course no one can resist their pull. 

When you were upset about him threatening to leak your information and photos, he just started pulling the strings without a care in the world which is what led you here; back arched, face buried in the plushie, whimpering and crying as he pounds you with no mercy. 

Your mind is foggy, you still haven’t processed the words that came out of his mouth when you wanted to break up. You did not, in a million years, expect those words to come out of him. It pretty much feels like a knife to your throat. Just as you are about to get lost in thought and perhaps cry some more, he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls on it harshly. 

“Get a grip.” He says coldly and lets go of your hair. 

You try to argue back, but he is 5 steps ahead and starts circling your clit before you even open your mouth. Whatever you were wanting to say just comes out as incoherent blabbers and whimpering as your insides squeeze tighter around him. He chuckles in response and mutters “that's what I thought” under his breath.

Since he is 5 steps ahead he is also aware you will cum any second now, which is why he switches positions quite hastily. He has your legs resting behind your ears as he teases your entrance by barely giving you the tip. He knows you get needy and will do or say anything to cum. You look up at him, that smug sadistic look on his face puts you in subspace faster than you can blink. At this point he practically got what he wanted, you won't want a breakup after this. Whatever else he does to you is just for fun. 

“Please..” you plead, looking up at him with puppy eyes. You had cried so much earlier that your face was glowing from it.  

“Repeat what you were telling me earlier babe,” he says while continuing to tease your sensitive entrance with the tip. “Tell me how I am too much for you and how you don't want to continue this!” You can hear the anger in his voice now, he does not take kindly to breakups unless he is the one doing it. This was peak betrayal to him. 

Something about him turns you into a horny nymph, even though this was your chance to resist and actually break up with him, your body and mind were both betraying you completely. You were so desperate for him, being manhandled and fucked disrespectfully hard by him was the only thing on your mind right now. His firm grip on your thighs, as he was pushing them back further, was not helping. He could feel your pussy squeezing and fluttering around his tip, even if you were not saying a word right now the rest of your body was very loud and clear. 

You feel your eyes watering again, from the frustration this time. It doesn't help that he is staring right into them, all while caressing your face. Staring into his eyes, especially with the state you are currently in felt like a trance. You were so lost in his eyes, you weren't even aware of how you were trying your best to move against his tip, completely desperate for any friction you could get.    

You have no idea how much your crying turns him on, same with your frustration and desperation. It was about time he reminded you again of how badly you need him, a reminder that no one but him could get you to act like this just for dick. He was equally desperate for you, probably more frustrated than you but he is so stoic and cold on the outside. You would never know. He had enough of messing with you though, and by the looks of it you were nearing your edging limit. 

His right hand lets go of your thigh, creeping up to your neck instead. He keeps eye contact as he chokes you very lightly. He is so close to your face, staring deep into your eyes with a predatory look. It makes you shudder, but it also makes you want to spread your legs even more for him. 

The way he suddenly bottoms out fully, with no warning, has you seeing stars. You had been in this position with previous partners, but none of them reached this deep inside of you. You have to bite your cheek to not scream, especially when you look down on your stomach for a split second and you can see his dick print on it. You suddenly remember that back when you had just gotten to know each other, you texted him saying you want him in your guts. Looks like you got what you wished for. 

He chokes you harder while pushing your head back, making you look right into his eyes again. His stare is so intense, you want to look away sometimes. His stare made you feel so vulnerable and exposed, it cut right through all your layers and saw right through your soul. It would not be too far off to say his eyes were fucking your soul. 

“I-I’m gonna cum-” you whimper, struggling to keep eye contact. You know exactly what you have to say next if you don't want him to suddenly stop and edge you even more.

“I’m sorry for causing unnecessary drama-” you cry out. “I-I was wrong..I do not want to break up..I love you!” 

“That's right.” He smiles and starts thrusting into you even harder, he drops eye contact now and the focus shifts to between your legs. He is obsessed with how you take all of him in so well, he loves watching you swallow him whole and he especially loves that you are so sensitive that you quiver and squeeze around him at every movement he does. 

He doesn't stop fucking you when you cum. Not even slowing down the pace. 

Instead, both his hands are on your hips now slamming you against his pelvis. You keep squirting, but he doesn't stop even for a second. You are so overstimulated at this point, every few thrusts make you cum all over him. 

You are close to tapping out at this point, eyes rolling at the back of your head. You are in safe hands though, he may be toxic and not allow you to break up because he is too possessive and wants to almost own you, but with that comes him being extremely careful of you. He pulls out and slaps you lightly to wake you up, fully attentive of you now. 

“Babe, are you okay?” He asks, albeit in a cold uncaring tone, but that's just how he sounds in general. He really does care.  

He comes back and slaps you again lightly, holding a glass of water in his other hand. You wake up this time. 

You don't really say anything when you regain consciousness nor do you drink the water, you just mumble “I am fine” under your breath and start straddling him. There is something about his caring nature that turns you on so much, his attention to detail is already attractive as it is but when it shows like this during sex it just makes you want him on a different level. 

The breakup was history at this point, now you were on top of him whispering dirty things in his ears. You wanted him to fill you to the brim with his cum, then fuck you with all the cum in you and cum in you some more. You had never met a guy that unlocked this side of you, it feels unreal, he is so perfect it drives you mad. 

“Please fill me up, I need you so bad..” You were crying in his ears as you quickly slid his cock inside of you, wasting no time and starting bouncing on it. “I truly am sorry for earlier, I could never be without you!” 

He is both amused and extremely turned on by your behavior, mostly turned on though as he wastes no time, putting you on your back with your legs on his shoulders. Eren had no idea how hot he looked, the sounds he was making was music to your ears. You were staring in awe as he came inside of you. 

You truly can't get enough of him, so when he collapses next to you on the bed, you crawl over to him licking him clean hoping it will lead to a round two in the shower perhaps. 

Author's note: I did not proofread this. If you find any mistakes, take it to the grave pls. 

© 2024 tomieafterdark | All rights reserved

[mortytheestallion]

can i have you?

Rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

Word Count: 1700+

Warnings: Rick Sanchez x F!Reader, age-gap (older man/younger woman), unprotected sex PIV, angst, cunnilingus, fingering, canon typical violence, alcohol

“What’s that?” There’s a look of uneasiness painted on your face, a timid hand pointing at a seemingly dead robot that looks a little too much like Rick, well exactly like Rick, strewn across the garage floor in a puddle of oil.

Rick barely spares a glance over his shoulder before giving a gruff grunt.

“Morty pissed me off. It's a glorified family babysitter while I search for— while I focus on real shit.”

You think you’re gonna throw up. If that. . . thing, has been impersonating Rick for a couple of weeks then—

You can’t help the shriek that passes through your lips. Stomach churning, you don’t acknowledge the sound of glass shattering not 5 feet from where you stand. All you can do is stare at the shiny gold consisting of the robot’s body parts in horror.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Rick had already been in an irritated state like you’ve never seen. 5’o clock shadow, disheveled hair, and his lab coat seemed to be all that was holding him together.​ The mania had dissipated a couple of days ago, leaving nothing but piss and vinegar behind. 

“I fucked that thing.”

You’ve never seen Rick surprised as he slowly turns to face you, brow near his hairline. He’s speechless for the first time since he met you, yet it's gone as quickly as it came. His signature furrowed brow and twitching eye returned.

“What do you mean you fucked it?” It's full of venom. You can see his shoulders tense, white knuckles gripping the edge of the work bench. 

All you can do is stare at him, bound and gagged by your own dreadful realization. A beat passes before either one of you moves, Rick springs into action first. A string of explicatives leaves his mouth as he roughly clears the work bench, you cringe at the sound of clattering metal, but do not move. It feels like your feet have grown roots. 

It all makes sense now. The soft touches, the kindness, the supportiveness. It couldn’t have been Rick, it wasn’t. 

You can’t believe you didn’t realize it was a robot. His hands were cold, which was the only odd thing but Rick is odd. He normally runs like a space heater. You often wake up with all of your blankets on the floor, Rick starfished on the topsheet. He had been more tender though, attentive. You just thought time was changing him, making him softer. It seemed like family was making him more mellow, you thought maybe having you in his life brought out something in him. 

The shame and embarrassment washes over you like a flood. 

He picks up the robot with ease, throwing it onto the work bench like it weighs less than a feather. You’d be turned on in other, better circumstances. Your thoughts continue to race as Rick searches carelessly through boxes, throwing items over his shoulder at the workbench. He doesn’t seem to care if it hits the robot or not. 

Rick attaches what looks like jumper cables to each of the robot's nipples. You snort, instant regret shoots down your spine as Rick throws a glare at you. He presses a button and the robot jerks to life, cringing as he moans through the electrical current flowing through him.

“I thought you let me die, asshole.” He squints at Rick. His eyes widen when he realizes Rick is in no joking mood. 

“I programmed you to keep Morty busy not to fuck my gir— not to fuck her!” Rick thumb jabs in your direction, “Now I’m gonna fuck her, and make you watch.”

“Rick.” It's the first word you’ve been able to get out in a minute, the robot quietly sighs to himself during your staring contest with Rick. 

“Fine.” It comes out through gritted teeth, and he rips the cables off. The robot jerks as the light leaves its eyes. You feel a little guilty, this somewhat sentient creature dying because of your actions. Then again, Rick programmed it to be him, and it does seem to want to die. 

“What?” It's accusatory. Rick can’t believe the look on your face, you fucked a robot not him. Who are you to be on a high horse?

Your mouth is set in a grim line, tension oozes between the two of you. Rick’s chest heaves, he won’t break before you do. 

“What exactly was your plan with the robot? You thought I wouldn't initiate sex?” You break, chewing on your lip. Rick’s eyes briefly flicker towards it before meeting yours again. His hands are balled into fists.

“S-sorry I expected you to actually use that thing in your head, you know the brain?” Your mouth falls open at his jab, “Mouth o-open again? Gonna stick the dead robot dick in it, sweetheart?” 

There's tears in your eyes. All of the cautious trust you’ve built over the last couple washed away in a matter of seconds. Serves you right, you think.

He takes a swig of his flask, angry eyes betraying the calm demeanor he’s trying to portray. You can’t help it as the tears fall, you watch him soften a bit as you sniffle before the coldness returns. 

“Tears d-don’t work on me bab— sweetie, or did the robot fuck you dumb?” You know he’s just being mean because he’s hurt. 

It doesn’t make it any less upsetting though. You both stand your ground. 

You play it up a little, calling his bluff. Sniffles turn to sobs, you watch as his resolve slowly begins to crumble. He shifts his weight several times before he tosses the flask over his shoulder and moves in your direction. 

“C’mere,” his thumbs briefly wipe the tears off your cheeks before his lips meet yours. It’s uncharacteristically soft for him, a little too on brand for the robot. You push the thought to the back of your mind, enjoying how warm his body is pressed against yours. 

He gets a little rougher. You gasp as your back hits the work bench, so engrossed in the feeling of his teeth biting your neck you didn’t even notice him guiding you over. 

Rick’s hands are gripping your waist so tight you’re sure there’ll be handprint shaped bruises on your hips in the morning. The thought of it makes you moan, and he tenses slightly before continuing his way down your torso. 

He gets his hands under your thighs. Calloused hands meet plush skin as he leverages you up on the counter, you yelp as you land on the cold counter. 

“Gon–gonna make you forget all about him, sweetheart,” He mutters, rucking the material down your legs. He’s gonna show you how much he cares about you in the only way he can. He stops for a minute to grab you by the nape of your neck and kisses you, really kisses you. He bathes in the soft moans he manages to pull from you between kisses, continuing his previous goal as he bites his way down your neck and chest. 

Rick drags your ass to the edge of the counter before dropping to his knees. He bites back a curse, his joints too old to be doing shit like that but damn if he wasn’t gonna worship you in a way that matters. Matters to him.

He runs a finger up your slit, savoring how wet you are for him after nothing but a couple kisses. It inflates his ego like you wouldn’t believe. 

You mewl as he breaches you, two slender fingers twisting inside you. You arch into his touch, wiggling for as much contact you can milk from him. 

“Please, Rick, d-don’t tease,” you plead, his eyes search your face. He curls his fingers up, hitting you where you’re soft and spongy, reveling in the way you melt in his hands. Rick uses his other hand to spread your knees wide. He can’t help the noise that escapes his throat at the sight of you. 

He picks up his pace and you squirm, your hips chasing as much pleasure as you can. His cock presses uncomfortably against the seam of his pants as he feels you clench around his fingers. Beads of sweat pepper your hairline as you ride his fingers, becoming more desperate the longer he denies you release. 

You practically scream the minute you feel his mouth on your clit. Your orgasm rips through you like a live wire. Your thighs shake, momentarily blacking out as the pleasure overwhelms you. 

When you come down, Rick is staring at you intently. 

“Can I have you?” It's loaded. You know what he means, he’s asking for permission before continuing but there’s more underneath this time. He might even be more upset than you about the robot fucking, and you know Rick’s no saint. Your lip quivers. His stare never leaves your face.

You nod. He’s on you faster than you can process post-orgasm. 

He kisses you again. It's softer this time, one hand holds your jaw softly while the other undoes his belt. He desperately shoves his pants down as if having you will solve all his problems. Maybe it will.

Rick fists himself as he smears his cock against your entrance. You moan, overstimulated and fucked out. He holds himself back, it's not in his nature to go slow. Your hips buck involuntarily as he slides to the hilt, his head drops to your shoulder with a groan. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so tight,” He pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in without warning, “Bet he didn’t fuck you like this, huh?” He quickens his pace and you grip his shoulders, hips dragging with what little strength you have to meet him.

He thrusts as deep as he can to get you to writhe and whimper. 

“C’mon,” He pants, “Just one more for me, honey, I know you can do it.” It's creeping up on you, twisting down your spine. He angles his hips to spear his cock into you just like you need, and it's enough. 

Rick’s hips stutter as you clench around him, gripping your hips to deliver the brutal thrusts you need as you ride through your orgasm. 

He comes shortly after with a grunt as you flutter along his length. 

“I’d have fucked a robot sooner if it meant you’d fuck me like that.”

The glare is worth it.

[wilcze-kudly]

Aang is great because almost every ship you can put him in instantly becomes top-tier.

Like:

Kataang- they literally make me cry every single time I think of them. Their love story is wonderful and genuinely heartwarming. It symbolises healing and peace for both of them and the literal world. He showed her the world and he's her biggest supporter and she always defends him and they find solace in each other because they understand what it's like to be the last of their respective kind. And they're each other's hope and just... ahhh. They're so much more than the vanilla hero gets the girl ship people paint it as. Haters stay mad or smth.

Zukaang- the symbolism? They're the actual Ying and Yang of the show! The Rozin parallels? Them standing in a vortex of rainbow fire as two dragons (the blue one like Aang's tatoos facing zuko and the other one, red like Zuko's general colour scheme facing Aang) forming a heart shape around them? Zuko was literally searching for Aang and found his redemption in Aang and Aang made him a better person and Aang is literally the only person who genuinely experienced Fire Nation culture before the war and he clearly values it and he's helping Zuko bring peace to the world and the nation...

Taang- The og tomboy x soft boy dynamic. He's literally the person that helped her free herself from her parents and Air is the element of freedom? And she teaches him when to stand firm like the Earth? And I love when they do synchronised earthbending it's so satisfying and they work so well together. Toph having lost her face in one of Aang's nightmares is also a nice parallel to Ummi and Kuruk. (One caveat though: i hate taang being used as a "get Aang out of the way" side ship to Zutara)

Sokaang- they kinda come out of left field for me but the more I think about them the more obsessed I become. It's all about a teenage boy who has been forced into a role that demanded way too much of him finally learning to trust and rely on others. It's about Sokka finally living out the childhood that he was forced to grow out of. Sokka also has such a cute bond with Momo and more importantly, Appa, Aang's animal soulmate. The fics write themselves.

Sukaang- ok, I know Suki and Aang barely interacted in the show but like Hear me out.Suki is so connected to one of Aang's past lives. And she saved Appa, which would totally bond her and Aang (genuinely distressed that this was never discussed in canon). And they both value a sense of community so much, and Aang was one of the people who inspired Suki to leave Kyoshi to help others. Plus, there could be some amazing Rangshi parallels if Suki became Aang's bodyguard instead of Zuko's, which could be very plausible.

Azulaang- I adore this ship because I genuinely think Aang could really help Azula find her redemption. Hell, he was so nice to her in The Search and she literally killed him. Plus I've already laughed about how it would absolutely kill Ozai. The mental crisis Azula would go through due to fallingin love with Aang would be hilarious, and also the guilt over everything she's done, as Aang's kindness makes her realsie she was on the wrong side this whole time. He's one of the only people who can beat her at her prime and he doesn't seem to fear her at all, which is rare for her. Aang could give her the unconditional love she so desperately craves and needs.

Maiaang- genuinely adorable to me. Other than the obvious grumpy x sunshine trope, Maiaang has a lot of potential. Mai seems to genuinely like Aang in the comics, which is really cute. I also think Aang would be able to help Mai express her more positive emotions, other than just anger. Also something about the girl who was forced to remain silent and passive her whole life learning to finally let go and allow herself to just live with the help of probably one of the most active and expressive characters of the show has me by the throat. Plus, he got along great with her lil bro!

Tyaang- They're so similar and cute and bubbly! They'd have tons of fun together and I just know Ty Lee would teach Aang some gymnastics and he really enjoy it! I think he can also find Ty Lee's chiblocking very cool, since it is essentially a great way to deal with a conflict without causing permanent damage. Very airbendery. Speaking of which, Ty Lee is also very airbendry herself. I can genuinely see her finding herself in Air Nomad culture and be excited to help revive it.

Onjaang- i just find this ship so funny because imagine being a random schoolgirl in the fire nation and not only rizzing up a demigod but rizzing that demigod up successfully. This ship can also go so many ways depending on On Ji's reaction to that random cute guy who threw a cool dance party is actually the Avatar, so it's certainly interesting.

Yuaang- the ultimate cinnamon roll x cinnamon roll ship. But more than that, there's of course the Yue becoming the Moon Spirit and Aang getting lowkey possessed by the grieving Ocean Spirit. There's Yue appearing when Aang needed her most, while he's stranded in the middle of the ocean and helping him. They both understand sacrifice and responsibility, and maybe they could comfort each other through it. Also Aang being the bridge between the spirit worlds and Yue being a Spirit could lead to a very interesting romance, depending on how much the Avatar could interact with the Moon Spirit.

Jetaang- ok, Aang was just as infatuated with Jet as Katara was, right? And I think Aang was heavily affected by Jet's actions and behaviour. Also Aang really not wanting to hurt Jet while fighting him (twice!) was really cute. And Aang helping Jet snap out of the Dai Li brainwashing could be a really cool ship moment the more you think anout it.

Teoaang- Honestly their little one sided rivalry at the beginning of the episode was really cute. And I think there could be some interesting symbolism between them. Aang symbolising the old and Teo symbolising the new. They compliment each other like that. Teo comforting Aang by showing him that the critters of the temple are still alive and well is also sweet. And Aang admitting that Teo has the spirit of an airbender is so sweet.

Kuzaang- they're adorable. I loved the comic about them. Aang calling Kuzon "Hotman" is really funny. Aang helping Kuzon make a bigger flame with airbending is also really sweet. I especially like this ship in combination with Zukaang. It's such tasty symbolism.

Aang may just be the most shippable charater of this franchise, argue with the wall. He's so filled with love I have no choice but to multiship.

[ddarker-dreams]

Golden Girl.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: The psychological damage inflicted from Gojo Satoru's presence, canon-typical violence, Gojo and Geto are both kinda questionable in their own ways. Word count: 16k.

-Index-

April 1st, 2005. 

8:02 a.m.

-

You don’t get it. 

This campus is huge. Unbelievably so. If someone said you’d waltzed into the Imperial Palace, you’d believe them, and not just because you’re gullible. Although, that’d certainly play a significant role. 

Your suspicions strengthen after you walk over the third arched bridge. That’s an arched bridge too far. No school can have this many fancy-looking bridges, the schools back home are practically held together by chewed pieces of gum and scotch tape. Your jetlagged brain combs through the whirlwind you’ve endured in the past few hours. Did you give the wrong address to the taxi driver back at the airport? 

He did look confused, but you hadn’t given it much thought then. 

You go as still as a statue. 

… What if this is the Imperial Palace? If that’s the case, you’re definitely trespassing, right?

How do you explain that to any guards that might happen by? You can envision the headlines now — Foreigner Extradited for Trespassing, Sentenced to Life, No Chance at Parole. All those hours you spent working on your student visa would be for nothing! And you’d be in prison, which is a bummer, because you’re not rich enough to weasel out of the criminal justice system. 

You’ll have to join a prison gang, there’s no way around it. Would they let a fourteen-year-old in? In the event they don’t, you could always form one yourself. Leadership’s never been your thing, but it beats—

“Hey there,” a feminine voice calls out. “You lost?” 

You whip your head around to the sound’s source. Instead of seeing an intimidating guard ready to haul you off, there’s a girl about your age. She has brunette hair styled in a bob, a beauty mark beneath her left eye, and an unlit cigarette hanging from her lips. 

Unless the Emperor is issuing major budget cuts, this can’t be a guard. 

You consider her uniform. The high collar, sheer tights, long sleeves, and brown shoes match yours, but the skirt’s different. Yours flares out and cuts off right above your knees. This minor discrepancy makes you wonder if you’re breaking the dress code on your first day. You push the concern aside for future you to deal with.

“That obvious, huh?” You laugh. 

“Just a bit.” 

She introduces herself as Ieiri Shoko, a first-year student like yourself. You respond in kind, offering up your own name and grade. It’s a relief to know you won’t be arrested or wandering this complex for an eternity. She walks by you and turns on her heel, tilting her head. 

“Gonna come with?” 

You nod and happily fall into step beside her. She doesn’t seem to be in a rush, not that you mind. It gives you time to admire the idyllic scenery around each turn. There are lush green forests, gardens, and more traditional buildings than you can count. The only detail you find odd is how empty the area is. Besides Ieiri, there isn’t a soul to be found. 

“Ieiri-san, is today a holiday by any chance?” 

“Just Shoko’s fine,” she says, feeling around her various pockets. “And I don’t think so. Why? Too quiet?” 

“It’s almost like a ghost town.” 

Shoko smiles. “Enjoy the quiet while you can.”

Well, that’s a bit ominous, but you’ve yet to meet anyone in the jujutsu world who is 100% normal. You think it might be an unspoken requirement at this point. 

Shoko gives up on whatever she was searching for — a lighter, if you had to guess — and tucks the cigarette away. This reinforces your theory that those involved with jujutsu have one quirk at the bare minimum. By that logic, you must have some peculiar quirk of your own. Recalling your earlier Imperial Palace debacle, you realize it might be more than one… 

“Oh, by the way. All our classes got canceled,” Shoko says. 

You blink. 

“On… the first day…?” 

“Yeah. Something about a last-minute meeting,” she stretches her arms above her head and yawns. “I’m heading back to the dorms for a nap. I think yours is near mine, there are boxes with your name on them in the hallway.” 

What a relief! There had been no word on the packages full of your personal belongings you shipped here ahead of time. The hellscape that is checked baggage had no bearing on you. Immensely pleased with this revelation, you set aside the urge to explore and accompany Shoko to where you’ll be living for the foreseeable future. 

In keeping with the spirit of the rest of the school grounds, your room is spacious. 

Shoko left you to your own devices. You can faintly discern her presence in the room beside yours, laying down as she said she would. You thought you’d want to do the same, but something about the crisp morning air sliced through your exhaustion. You’ll ride the high and crash later. 

Adventure awaits — the exploration of the unknown, the sharpening of a faint, hazy image. 

You’re back outside again. It’s amazing how, no matter where you are, you can feel the wind in your hair and the sun on your cheeks. This serves as a grounding reminder that you’re real. Reality and the ambiguous nature of jujutsu are often at odds with one other, fighting to occupy the same space. Each side spins a convincing speech about why you should give it credence while discounting the other. 

Unlike a politician’s diatribe, there’s no changing the channel or turning down the volume. This invisible and perennial battle won’t ever gain total victory or retreat. There’s bound to be collateral, such is the nature of war. For some, it’s their life in a literal sense, for you, it’s sanity. Coherence. The incorrigible truth that two plus two equals four.

See, young kids aren’t given enough credit. They’re always watching, learning, and absorbing. They get the basic idea that two plus two equals four before they even know what numbers are. For instance, as a baby, you cry and writhe until your needs are met. There’s a framework. An adult in the vicinity plus wailing equals getting fed. Then later, it gets more complex. Not eating your vegetables plus getting mouthy equals timeout. So on and so forth. 

You accrue this network of information that makes life navigable. 

Then, while visiting some distant relative in the hospital, a massive hole gets blown into this previously steady network. Such was your experience. 

Something strange sat atop the IV in the small, cramped hospital room. The adults exchanged well wishes for the man surrounded by beeping equipment and blinking screens. Everyone present focused on this man, except you. You observed this thing, about the size of a sparrow, that flitted to and fro. Whatever it was, it had too many eyes. Each rolled in a different direction, like a bowling ball that couldn’t stop spinning. 

Eventually, a long yet thin appendage emerged from the unidentifiable creature. You stood petrified as it entered the man’s ear canal and sipped. The man groaned, beeps increased, and numbers flew high. It sipped harder. His screams grew louder. Everything got chaotic. People in white and blue entered the room. You heard words like ‘cardiac arrest’ and ‘defibrillation.’ Your parents dragged you away. 

The creature continued to sip. 

On the car ride home, you asked why no one stopped it. The creature plus its sipping equaled the man’s horrible pain. That’s what you figured, anyway. They asked for clarification. What creature? Where had it been? What did it look like? Since young kids are smarter than they’re given credit for, you recognized the tone that was directed toward you. Disbelief, but in a nice, adult way. 

If you insisted on the creature’s existence, they grew worried. When you told your friends — who in turn, told their parents — their worry grew. If every drawing you scribbled tried to depict the creature’s likeness, their worry overflowed. You overheard words like ‘traumatic experience’ and ‘coping.’ 

So, you stopped mentioning it. This stopped the concerned murmurings you’d overhear. You tried really hard to believe what they said about nightmares and mean imaginary friends. This worked well enough until you noticed similar creatures everywhere. On the playground, bus, graveyards, and abandoned houses. They weren’t all the size of a sparrow either. Some were tiny enough to be mistaken for gnats. Others were huge and salivated large pools against the ground.

It was around this time that you developed a second shadow. A spinning golden ring that could fit in the palm of your hand followed you everywhere. No one else could see it, but unlike the creatures, this ring didn’t scare you. Just the opposite, in fact. You considered it a guardian angel. 

If the gnats got too close, it’d slice through them. 

When the huge, drooling ones reached out their mangled hand, it’d cut through their wrists.

Later on, you’d learn this ‘guardian angel’ was called a ‘cursed technique.’ 

Smiling, you descend a flight of stairs. From today onward, you’ll be surrounded by people who don’t discount the equation you spent your early years erasing. They’ll be around your age too! You already like Shoko, she’s pretty and has a calming presence. You wonder what the others in your class will be like. How many will there be? Twenty? Your social studies class topped out at thirty-four. 

You hope you can befriend everyone. 

The gears turning in your head grind to a halt upon noticing the view. Maybe it’s how the morning sun casts a soft glow upon the verdure, or maybe you’re just easily impressed. Whatever the case, the sight stokes awe inside you. Trees line both sides of the gravel path ahead, their canopies inclining as if leaning down to hear a whisper. Smudges of green streak through the air, accepting any destiny the wind bestows.

What an image, straight from the pages of a fairytale book! 

You fish out your new phone, a hot pink Razr V3, recalling its camera feature. Even if the photograph isn’t award-winning, you want to preserve this moment. 

You can’t explain it. This intuition isn’t rational, it doesn’t adhere to that ever so reliable two plus two. It transcends. The fall of a domino, a flap of a butterfly wing. Seemingly unrelated yet intimately interwoven by invisible lines. 

Whether preordained or the consequence of chain reactions you’d have to trace since birth to understand, what happens next stains you its color. The soul grasps what logic dismisses. And right now, your soul says this moment in time and space should never be forgotten. 

As for why, your soul suggests you uncover that for yourself. 

Alas, you can’t actually stop time. Perception and reality don’t always agree. While it felt like everything came to a grinding halt, the wheels never stopped turning.

And so the powerful gust soaring from your right punches the air from your lungs. 

Gritting your teeth, you dig your heels into the ground. The sheer force pushes you back some inches. Next comes a hail of debris. Chunks of soil, sediment, and splintered wood descend. Recognizing this threat, your mind yells at your body to move. Those earthly implements are soaring faster than a bullet. However, the baleful gale restricts precise movement. You’re nothing but a bag of flesh and viscera to the indifferent swell. It’ll send you tumbling the instant your feet lift off the ground. 

Dodging isn’t an option. 

Those rocks… your cursed technique could dice them up, but then you’d get pelted with shrapnel rather than stone. 

Which is the better outcome? A body littered with numerous holes or a few craters? 

Your arms fly up to protect your major organs. You’ll endure what you can. 

Except, instead of enduring an onslaught, nothing happens. Nothing hurts, rips, or gets torn to shreds. 

The wind hasn’t stopped, but it no longer touches you. You jump back, out of the line of impact. The debris parts like the Red Sea and grants you safe passage. From this vantage point, you’re a witness rather than an unwitting participant. The unrelenting force rages on. You gape at the path of destruction it’s left behind, indiscriminately swallowing trees, foliage, and the ground. It looks like a meteor surged in a straight line through the forest. 

No matter what you’d chosen to do, if it weren’t for that abrupt opening, you would’ve died.  

Heart thumping wildly, you snap your head toward the direction this miniature storm originated from. Was it a curse? If it is, then you’re hopelessly outclassed. 

No, that doesn’t seem right, you think. You’re familiar with how it feels when a curse is nearby. Should it be close to your power level, it’s like getting splashed with frigid water. For curses above your abilities, that sensation gets amplified. It’s as if you’ve been plunged into the Arctic Ocean. Right now, you’re not experiencing either of those sensory nightmares. 

A silhouette walks through the dusty haze that destructive force left behind. 

“Whoops,” the person within says, “That was close.” 

You run over, swatting the dust lingering in the air. Anyone close to that force could’ve gotten severely injured. Concern seeps into your being as the figure emerges. 

“Are you okay?!” 

The first thing you notice is a head of white hair. Next is this person’s height, you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. Eyes that were, for some reason, covered by circular sunglasses. There’s a sideways grin on his face, the absolute last expression you were expecting. From his uniform, you guess he’s a student like yourself. His most prominent feature isn’t anything visible. It’s the sheer aura he exudes, you’ve never experienced anything similar. There’s no hostility, but it’s intense. 

You inhale shakily. 

“Never better. You?” 

He sounds chipper. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, giving yourself a once-over. 

You pinch your eyebrows together while assessing your condition. The white-haired figure notices this and asks, “Ya sure? Nothing hit you, right?” 

“That’s the weird thing, though,” you frown. “I should be covered in dust, but there’s not a single speck.” 

His grin widens, like he’s in on some joke you aren’t. This plucks a cord of irritation within you. Narrowing your eyes, you take a step back. You focus on the cursed energy engulfing him, then compare it to residuals left behind by the force. The residuals in the path it carved out are too faint to properly discern. All you have implicating his involvement is a hunch. 

You remember how the gust itself felt, though. The ferocity that had every nerve in your body ringing funeral bells. 

Your eyes flit between the gaping maw and the sunglass-wearing stranger. 

“Want a hint?” He asks. You don’t miss the teasing lilt in his voice. 

“You caused that surge,” you deadpan. 

“Close enough, I’ll give half credit. Next question! What stopped you from getting buried in layers of dust?” 

You have no reason to play along, yet scampering off feels like you’d be conceding something. The competitive nature boiling in your blood refuses to admit defeat. Especially after he subjected you to that terror, without even apologizing! It’s the least he could do. What an inconsiderate jerk. You’ll knock him down from that high horse if it’s the last thing you do. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you consider the information you have to work with. Whatever he did had to involve his cursed technique. Did he apply a shield to you? It’s the most obvious answer, but that doesn’t explain everything. A shield would lessen the damage, not negate it entirely. 

How did he pull that off…? 

As you’re piecing this puzzle together, someone in the distance yells, “Satoru!” drawing out each syllable. The person before you winces but doesn’t lose his boyish smile. You sense another presence heading this way. After you turn around to face this new addition, two large hands settle on your shoulders from behind. You bristle and try shaking them off, but this weirdo doesn’t let go. 

An older man with a severe expression stands atop the staircase. His uniform is pitch black, denoting a different status than a student, if you were to guess. 

“One hour,” he huffs out, “One hour, I ask for you to sit still and behave. And what do I come back to? An entire tunnel running through the school grounds?” 

“It was for good reason, sensei,” this ‘Satoru’ insists. He squeezes your shoulders. “[First] here mistook a bug for a curse and yelped, ‘Kya, there’s a curse!’ I, being the good samaritan I am, dispatched the threat with what I thought to be an appropriate amount of force at the time.”  

You make a face. “Eh?” 

“Huh?” Yaga must find this explanation as convincing as you do. His countenance filters through multiple emotions. Confusion, frustration, disbelief, and then, finally, exhaustion. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You couldn’t come up with anything better than that?” 

“I didn’t come up with anything! Tell him, [First]! Are you going to abandon your savior when he needs you most?” 

Yaga turns his attention to you, pity evident in his eyes. 

“Satoru did… sort of protect me from something… in a way?” You mumble. 

Satoru’s fingers twitch when you speak his recently learned name.

Yaga sighs. “We’ll discuss this later, Satoru.” 

And with that, the first teacher you’ve met walks away, shaking his head. His demeanor reminds you of a disappointed parent. Suddenly cognizant of the unwelcome contact on your body, you jerk your shoulders forward. This time, he releases you. You get the sense he could’ve easily held on if he wanted to.

“Man, you suck at lying,” Satoru whines. 

“Me? What sort of cover story was that? If you ever become a defense attorney, your clients are screwed.” 

He throws his arms behind his head and grins. “You gotta admit, the impression was solid.” 

“That was the most egregious part!” 

“I thought it was a nice touch.”

You roll your eyes. Before this back-and-forth drags on, there’s a specific detail that’s nagging at you. 

“By the way, how do you know my name—” 

“Suguru, how long are you gonna sit back and watch? Voyeurism is frowned upon, y’know,” he cuts you off mid-sentence. 

Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets at his not-so-subtle implication. Thrown back into a weirded-out limbo, you start slinking off. Forget trying to understand how he knows your name despite never telling him. These are the types your parents warned you about, you need to flee! Hormonal high school boys should be sectioned off until they’re no longer threats to society. Nuclear warfare pales in comparison. 

“She’ll never want to come near you again if you keep saying things like that.” 

Another student calmly strides out from behind a nearby tree. You squint, ensuring this isn’t an illusion. How long has this guy been here? Why couldn’t you sense his presence? Especially when he’s been so close, just a few measly feet back. The black-haired addition gives you a closed-mouth smile. Similar to Satoru, he’s rather tall. You’ll need a neck massage from all this looking up. 

“Geto Suguru. It’s nice to meet you,” Geto greets. 

You introduce yourself as well. 

“It’s your first day here, correct? How are you finding everything? Have any questions?” 

“None that I can think of, but thank you! It’s been uneventful, up to a certain point.” 

Satoru yawns obnoxiously loud, interrupting your exchange. “Look what you did, Suguru. She’s all prim and proper now. I might fall asleep.” 

You shoot him a scathing look but bite your tongue. 

“What? No need to hold back. Say whatever you want, I can take it,” he asserts, tilting his head enough for his sunglasses to slide down. Two pools of frosty blues bore through you. You freeze up at the sight. Snowy eyelashes, glittering, gemstone-like eyes, why would he ever hide them? You’ve never seen such a bewitching color. 

He strikes like a serpent at the opening you’ve given him. 

“All this staring’s gonna make me shy. You can take a picture, if you want. I don’t mind.” 

Any spell you were under withers and dies. 

“Actually, I was just thinking that you remind me of a celebrity,” you say. 

Satoru preens, interpreting your words as a compliment. Before his ego inflates enough for him to float away, however, you give him a smug smile of your own. 

“Ever heard of Sanrio’s Cinnamoroll? You two could be twins! It’s adorable.”

His shoulders droop and Suguru chuckles, the sound coming out muffled from behind his hand. You spin around, content, humming to yourself as you walk up the stairs. You block out whatever Satoru shouts in retaliation. His words go in one ear and out the other. Something tells you this is the best strategy for dealing with him. 

So far, you’ve met three classmates, and that was enough to exhaust you thoroughly. 

You wonder what everyone else is like. 

-

Later that evening, Shoko explains it’s just you four in your class. 

You finish chewing your takeout, swallow, and then reply, “Eh? Seriously? But this place is crazy big.” 

“Not many folks can use jujutsu,” Shoko says. She picks a mushroom up with her chopsticks and places it in your container. “Four students is a high amount, all things considered.” 

You plop the mushroom into your mouth. Savory flavors coat your tongue, warming your heart and your soul. Delicious food is the antidote to all woes. Presently, your biggest woe happens to have white hair, unfairly pretty eyes, and a knack for getting under your skin. Recalling your previous encounter makes you grimace.

“Hey, Shoko. Would I get in trouble for spraying Satoru with water?” 

Instead of responding, she stares at you, blinking owlishly. 

“What’s up?” 

“Haven’t heard any student but Geto call Gojo by his first name,” she explains. “We’ve only been here a few days though, so who knows.” 

You tilt your head. “Who is Gojo?” 

“Satoru. Gojo Satoru’s his full name.”

“... Ah.” 

You swipe a pillow from Shoko’s bed and slam it into your face. 

“I’ve been calling him by his first name?!” You whisper yell, heat rushing to your cheeks.

That’s far too intimate. This is awful, a tragedy, the end of your life that had just begun! 

Shoko rubs your back reassuringly as you process the harrowing information. 

-

This has been the first proper school day. 

Teachers have come and gone depending on the class. You and Geto have been taking notes, Shoko’s fallen asleep, and Gojo occasionally throws a wadded-up note at the three of you. Shoko’s collection piles up on her desk, Geto throws his away after reading them, and you chuck yours back at Gojo when the teacher isn’t looking. 

He catches it with a grin each time, as if you’re playing a friendly game of baseball. 

This guy really irks you. 

When it’s time to eat lunch, he’s the first to get up. 

“What does everyone want from the vending machine?” Gojo asks while clapping, earning your attention. “It’s on me.” 

Suguru requests Coca-Cola and Shoko, newly awake, says Oi Ocha. 

“I’m okay, but thank you,” is your response. 

Gojo swaggers over and you immediately regret sounding so polite. 

“First you don’t open my notes and now you won’t accept my generosity? Is this what it’s like to get bullied?” 

“I think bullying is typically worse than that,” you respond. His deep frown, although likely an act, still tugs on your heartstrings. Empathy is truly a double-edged sword. “... Georgia canned coffee, please.” 

Gojo points a finger at you. “Aha! I knew it! Something about you struck me as a caffeine addict.” 

(You throw a pen at him, which he easily sidesteps).

“Does the resident sugar addict have any room to talk?” Geto hums. 

“Plenty. When you eat sweets, it’s to enjoy the flavor. In other words, an experience! When you drink coffee, though, you’re only torturing yourself to keep your eyes open.” 

“Some people like coffee’s flavor,” Shoko chimes in. She rests her chin on her fist. “You would if it was sickeningly sweet.” 

You take in the sight of your classmates bickering. It stirs a warm, pleasant feeling in your chest, like walking outside on the first day of spring. Such a simple exchange instills a sense of normalcy, no matter how fleeting. Gojo’s larger-than-life personality, Geto’s sneaky ways of goading him on, and Shoko’s occasional wry comment; you sear it into your memory. 

There’s no real weight to the jabs everyone flings around, it’s like water off a duck’s back. 

“You’ll meet lots of interesting folks, I’m sure,” your jujutsu mentor, Ishimoto Akane, had told you. “Make the most of each day. Forgetting to live is the worst injustice you can commit toward yourself.” 

Smiling, you retrieve your pen/ammunition, intent on hitting Gojo with it eventually. 

-

Drizzle and heat olive oil in a pan. Add grape tomatoes, seasoning, and minced garlic. Stir occasionally until the grape tomatoes break down. 

A mouthwatering scent fills the dormitory’s kitchen. The clock reads 10:04 p.m, indicating how late this dinner is. You keep an eye on your pan as different shades of red smear together, forming the basis for your sauce. Content to leave it unsupervised for a spell, you walk to the drawer silverware is kept in.

The plates are up in an overhead cupboard. You stand on your tiptoes, straining your arm to grab a plate that has no business being up so high. 

“Need help?” 

You could recognize that voice in your sleep. Or, to be more specific, your nightmares. 

“I’ve got it,” you insist. 

“Yes, obviously, my sincerest apologies,” Gojo's cadence shifts to a somber, apologetic tone. “Please proceed.” 

You stretch your body to its limits, the muscles in your arm crying out for reprieve. Your fingertips brush over the plate’s outer rim. Mistaking this for victory, you pull it out at an awkward angle. The porcelain comes tumbling down to its imminent demise. Out of instinct, you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for impact. 

In the moments that follow, you hear nothing shatter.

Confused, you reopen your eyes to see Gojo Satoru holding the still-intact plate.

You stare at him.

He stares at you (from behind his sunglasses, despite the sun not being out). 

Remembering your manners, you say, “Thank you.” 

Gojo hums. The low note injects dread throughout your system, as you can guess how the melody will continue. You reach for the troublesome plate. In accordance with your premonition, he takes sadistic glee in raising it high above your head. It stays up there as if it were a full moon. 

You take a deep, deep breath. 

“Gojo-san, can I have that back?” 

“Say ‘Pretty please, Satoru,’ and I’ll think about it.” 

“...” 

He stares at you.

You stare at him. 

“From this day forward, you cannot have any more of my cooking,” you announce as if you were a politician making a new law known. 

In what’s an exceedingly rare occurrence, Gojo doesn’t have an immediate retort. You may be unable to see his eyes, but you can tell his expression fell at your proclamation by the muscles in his face. 

“Wait, really?” 

“Really.” 

“Really really?” 

“Really really.” 

Gojo silently hands over the plate with a bow. 

“For you, madam.” 

His melancholic act is so convincing and disproportionate to the situation that you can’t hold back your laughter. Gojo’s true strength is his ability to annoy and endear in the same breath. For this reason, your irritation toward his antics never lasts long. You’re sure he’s aware of this and uses it to his advantage. So long as it remains innocuous, you’ll play along. 

“Start helping by chopping that basil and I’ll reconsider your verdict.” 

Gojo gives a hearty salute. 

“Yes ma’am!” 

-

Geto plucks the manilla folder you’re holding and says your name. Perplexed, you glance at him.

“This isn’t worth rereading a fourth time,” he explains. “It won’t be anything near as dangerous as it’s been made out to be.” 

He closes it and slides it across the table. You watch through heavy eyelids, blinking off sleep’s seductive whisper. The contents within — census data, maps, photographs — each piece of information refuses to absorb into your weary brain. You’re amazed you had the cogency to slap some proper loungewear on and stumble to the dormitory’s shared living space. 

“S’gotta be somewhat important, though, if we got woken up at three in the morning over it.” 

Geto laughs airily at that. “You’d be surprised.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He means that anything involving the Zenins gets a fast track to becoming everyone’s problem,” Gojo adds from the doorway. 

You turn your head in the direction of his hoarse voice. He didn’t bother to fix his bedhead or put on anything half-decent. He’s wearing a gray v-neck and slacks, unlike Geto, who at least put on a pair of jeans. His trademark sunglasses sit ajar on his nose. 

Despite yourself, your heart skips a beat. He’s kinda cute.

Gojo gives you a lazy wave and grin. “Wow, you’re actually awake. I thought we’d have to drag you out of bed.” 

“In the spirit of maintaining harmony, I’m going to ignore that comment,” you grumble, getting up from the floor to sit on the couch. Gojo sits to your left, slouches into the armrest, and throws his legs on the table. What terrible posture. “Going back to what you said — who are the Zenins? Are they important or something?” 

Gojo furrows his eyebrows. 

Geto blinks. 

You glance between the two of them, feeling increasingly out of the loop. “W-What?” 

Gojo, being the fiend that he is, breaks out into unapologetic laughter. You gape at him, your cheeks going from cold to scorching. Geto shakes his head in disapproval over Gojo’s behavior. Still, a small smile works onto his face, further exacerbating your embarrassment. Gojo loudly poking fun at you is one thing, but you’re used to Geto having your back Or at least abstaining from either side.

Vexed, you shoot up, ready to storm off, but Gojo’s hand encircles your wrist. 

“My bad, my bad,” he manages through the occasional chuckle. “Come back. We’ll explain it to you.” 

You grumble beneath your breath yet ultimately acquiesce. 

Gojo peers at you from above his sunglasses. “Ever heard of the Big Three Sorcerer Families?” 

You shoot him an unimpressed look. “Would we be having this conversation if I had?” 

“Man, that must be nice. I almost feel bad ruining your innocence like this,” Gojo sighs, ever the melodramatic performer. “Hm… let’s see… think of them as the lame, jujutsu versions of Zapdos, Articuno, and Moltres.”

Sitting patiently, you wait for him to elaborate. 

He doesn’t. 

“Geto-kun, care to translate?” 

“With pleasure. So, since cursed techniques are inherited, families often want them passed on from one generation to the next. The Big Three come from bloodlines that hold some of the strongest techniques. As you can imagine, this has granted them lots of influence and power over the centuries. How they leverage these advantages, well…” 

Geto trails off and clears his throat. 

“—They use it to advance their own agendas and snuff out any meaningful change,” Gojo finishes for him. 

You nod. 

“Okay, I think I get it! So they’re like jujutsu lobbyists?” 

Gojo bursts into another fit of laughter. “I like that! Yeah, let’s call them that. Most of those geezers aren’t even jujutsu sorcerers themselves. They just sit around in the dark and scheme. It’s pathetic.” 

Gojo doesn’t care about mincing words. He’s the type to call it as he sees it, for better or for worse. Rarely do you sense such acrimony festering beneath the surface of his remarks. This matter is different. He’s smiling, but there’s a tense underpinning to how he sets his jaw. 

“Wait, okay, so, there’s the Zenins, but… who are the other two?” You ask. 

“The Kamo and Gojo families,” Geto answers.

Gojo, gojo… that name sounds awfully familiar, doesn’t it? 

This reveal doesn’t knock the breath from your lungs. You’ve been able to guess for some time now that Gojo came from money. How much exactly, you weren’t sure, but his designer clothes raised your estimates high. Your rich kid radar is as accurate as ever. 

You point an accusatory finger toward the white-haired male beside you. “We have a double agent in our midst, Geto-kun.” 

“It would appear so. How should we proceed?” 

You stride over to Geto’s side, creating the appropriate distance between you and the traitor. 

“Imprisonment without trial,” you declare, much to Gojo’s chagrin. “Solitary confinement too. Cosplaying as the working class is a federal offense.” 

“Hah? What sort of kangaroo court is this?” Gojo complains. He removes his legs from the table and sits properly, then crosses his arms over his chest. Continuing your charade, you pay him no mind. Instead, you stand on your tiptoes, cup your hands, and whisper into Geto’s ear: 

“The convict is disparaging our blameless judicial system. Shall we add ten years of hard labor?” 

A malevolent gleam passes over Geto’s eyes. 

“Let’s make it twenty,” he whispers back. You nod. Great minds think alike.

You return your attention to the couch, intending to update Gojo’s sentence, only to find he isn’t there. Yours and Geto’s deliberation couldn’t have lasted more than five seconds! Where did your prisoner run off to? His presence vanished as well, leaving not a single trace. It should unnerve you how in control he is of every aspect of his being. Maybe it would’ve had you not known him personally. 

Warm breath fans against your ear from behind. “I’m taking this corrupt official hostage.” 

With that, your legs give out faster than your brain can register. Your equilibrium is thrown into chaos as two arms lift you. The abruptness of it all has your limbs flailing for purchase and a squeak escaping your lips. Gojo takes care to ensure you don’t fall or harm yourself, but he doesn’t bother hiding his sadistic glee. You’re held bridal style against his firm chest. 

Trying to wriggle loose is a meaningless endeavor. Accepting your fate, you go limp, but not without requesting assistance. 

“Geto, are you really going to abandon me to the machinations of this criminal?” 

Geto walks over, consideration etched into his countenance, stoking hope of rescue in your chest. He reaches for you. It’s almost imperceptible, but Gojo’s grip tightens ever so slightly. However, his hand doesn’t pry you from the jaws of the beast. He just pulls down your shirt, which has risen to reveal a sliver of your stomach. 

Wow, what a gentleman.

“Did you ever consider that I might be a double agent?” Geto challenges, relishing in your visible frustration as much as Gojo. Such is the plight of those who wear their heart on their sleeve. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson alright,” you retort. The foreboding nature of your words isn’t lost on them. They await your next move, which you swiftly deliver. “Gojo-san, let me down. If you don’t, I will bite you.”

You can feel how he beams down at you. “Oh, I never would’ve guessed that’s what you’re into— ah, Suguru, a little help here…?” 

Geto assesses the situation. After thinking it over, he helps steady you, then uses his newfound leverage to pull you free. He takes great care in putting you down, holding you steady until your feet are firmly on the floor. Your balance rushes to restore itself. In the meantime, Gojo clicks his tongue, processing the weight of Geto’s betrayal. 

You give Geto a thumbs up. “Good work. No one ever sees a triple agent coming.” 

“It was a split-second decision,” Gojo dismisses with a wave. His impassive expression morphs into a knowing smirk, like he just had a seismic revelation. “Ah, I get it.” 

“You do?” Geto hums. 

“He does?” You ask. 

“Yes and yes. Suguru, you were holding out to see if she’d use her cursed technique, right?” 

Geto doesn’t respond immediately, indicating Gojo’s theory holds some merit. Gojo stuffs his hands into his pockets and slinks back to the couch. His gait radiates smugness, although you can’t imagine why. Is that supposed to be a ‘gotcha!’ moment? 

“I’ll admit, I am curious,” is what Geto settles on saying, his smile apologetic. Or it’s meant to come off as such. 

“Why didn’t you say so sooner? It’s not like it’s a big secret or anything.” 

Geto and Gojo exchange looks. 

“You should be careful who you go about revealing information like that to,” Gojo warns. You’re not used to hearing this serious timbre in his voice. “Some cards should remain close to your chest.” 

Even if he’s being sincere, you can’t help but feel patronized. You’ll be the first to admit it — certain nuances of jujutsu society are lost on you. Akane wasn’t the type to care for such details. She said worrying about all that bureaucracy would age you prematurely. You half agree with her. Certainly, you shouldn’t let that influence you in the areas it matters most, like combat. However, while you’re in Japan, you’re under their regulations. It wouldn’t be wise to forget that. 

You purse your lips. “Obviously, yeah. I’m not going to go blabbering it off everywhere. But, I mean, you two are my friends. This’ll be our first time on the field together. Knowing what cards you have to deal with seems useful to me.” 

Gojo turns his head to the side and a few seconds pass.

“Friends, huh?” Geto finally murmurs, testing the word on his tongue. His next smile reaches his eyes. “Who would’ve thought a little sincerity is all it takes to get you flustered?” 

Gojo snaps his head back at Geto’s taunt. “Sorry, what was that? Aren’t you the one who—” 

You clap to redirect their attention. 

“Hey, hey, cut it out already. We’re going to be together for the next few days, right? Let’s all get along.” 

“You just care about going back to sleep,” Gojo accuses. 

“Yes. Exactly. That is all I care about right now. So, if it’s all the same to you, I’m headed to bed.” 

You don’t wait for their response. As stealthily as you can, you sneak through the hallways, careful to avoid creaky floorboards. Upon returning to your room, you kick your house slippers off. The digital alarm clock on your nightstand says 3:53 p.m. Those two kept you up far later than necessary! If this assignment isn’t a big deal like Geto claims, you wish he would’ve said so sooner.

There’s always the option of sleeping during the car ride, but if there’s anything you know about Gojo, it’s that everything in his vicinity can be subjected to torment. You wouldn’t put it past him to draw on your face or blare the horn once you finally nod off. 

Your head hits the pillow and you pray for rest to take you soon. 

Meanwhile, back in the shared living space, Gojo stares at the spot you once occupied. 

“Satoru.” 

“Hm?” 

“I think I get it now.” 

“That so?” Gojo runs a hand through his hair. “As long as you don’t get it too much.” 

Geto chuckles. After a pause, he muses, “Neither of us would be very good for her.” 

“You gonna let someone else scoop her up?” 

“Are you?” 

“They can try,” Gojo smiles. There’s no kindness behind it. 

Although this conversation could last well into the morning, in an unspoken understanding, they leave it at that. 

-

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.” 

Ink blots descend from above as if the sky were weeping. The viscous teardrops curve downward, creating a dome that swallows the surrounding area. Geto and Suguru have gone ahead, leaving you to carry out basic protocol. You jog to catch up with them. Geto slows down enough to make rejoining them easier, unlike Gojo, who carries on. 

“So, this is the stomping grounds of the mean ol’ curse that sent Kenji Zenin packing?” Gojo hums. 

“He sustained some serious injuries,” you remind him. Gojo just shrugs. “A fractured sternum and twelve broken ribs… that’s not exactly a walk in the park.” 

“A Grade One sorcerer getting whooped that bad by a Grade Two curse? Probably deserved it.” 

You sigh, recognizing that Gojo won’t empathize no matter what you say. 

The three of you were driven from Tokyo Jujutsu High to Kaizu for this assignment. According to Geto, the information you received likely exaggerated the curse’s capabilities as a way for Kenji Zenin to save face. It looks better for him if the higher-ups deem the threat he faced severe enough to ship off two of the school’s most promising students to handle it. Regarding your inclusion, Gojo so kindly said, 

“You’re like the little garnish on top of the entrée.” 

You can’t find the energy to get upset if he’s right. 

There’s no denying the immense gap in your abilities compared to theirs. You could feel it in the air the instant you met Gojo. For Geto, all it took was hearing a description of his cursed technique. The potential for storing and controlling curses at will is beyond your comprehension. There are so many applications, and so many advantages… you’re utterly outclassed. 

Should this demotivate you? Perhaps. You’ll never be as strong as them, it’s delusional to think otherwise. An individual’s proficiency with jujutsu is almost determined at birth. That doesn’t mean it’s static, it just means you have to find ways to excel with what you’re given. Envy is a waste of time. You want to learn from them and hone your abilities. For this reason, you’ve avoided an inferiority complex. 

What could be better than learning from the best? 

The atmosphere inside the curtain is dingy. It’s like a dark filter glazed over your eyes, maiming any bright or vibrant colors. 

Grass crunches beneath your feet despite summer’s abundant rainfall. Nature itself flees the scene, retreating into the woods surrounding this derelict nursery. The briefing you were given went over the business’ murky past. In the seventies, there was an unprecedented boom in births around this area. Working parents needed proper childcare until their children were old enough to attend school. What few facilities existed nearby found themselves overwhelmed. Then an older, childless couple, Mikami and Fujikawa Tetsuo, purchased a plot of land outside the town with their retirement money. They cited the picturesque scenery as their reason for choosing this location, believing that the unpolluted air would be good for the children. 

The nursery was built and opened. For years, parents entrusted their little ones with the tight-knit staff headed by the Tetsuo’s. Nothing of note occurred until early in the eighties. On March 24th, 1982, a child was hospitalized after crying ceaselessly for three hours straight. The mother reported that when she picked her daughter up from the daycare, her daughter had been unusually distraught. She didn’t think much of it at first. Toddlers are known for being emotional. However, as time went by and her screams became hoarse, she felt something was terribly wrong. The little girl was given mild sedatives and IV fluids as her body began to suffer from dehydration. 

The next day, all seventeen children at the daycare suffered the same mysterious ailment. 

Each child underwent tests ranging from bloodwork to brain MRIs to determine what the inexplicable cause of this nightmare could be. Professionals in every area, ranging from renowned neurologists to child psychiatrists flew in from around the world. Naturally, an investigation was opened into the nursery and its owners. No formal charges were made against Mikami and Fujikawa, since no evidence of foul play could be found. Regardless, the community ostracized them and any employees present during the incident. 

Tragically, none of the eighteen children recovered. From the instant their sedatives wore off until they were administered again, they’d screech, thrash, and display aggressive behavior toward nurses and family members alike. Parents were faced with the impossible decision of keeping their child ‘alive’ through life support, holding out for a cure that may never come, or granting them a peaceful yet permanent rest.

Only one family kept their child on life support. He remained in a vegetative state and died from complications related to an infection two months later. The seventeen other families, who had grown close through the harrowing ordeal, turned the machines keeping their little ones alive at the same time. 

This report might be one of the worst things you’ve read. 

Scanning the area, you note faint residuals of cursed energy throughout the decrepit playground. The swings, slide, and both sides of the seesaw contain trace amounts. Did curses form as a consequence of what happened here, or did a curse initiate the disaster? It may not matter now, but all those families never receiving proper closure makes your chest feel tight. 

Painfully so. 

Considering the officials never found physical evidence, you believe a curse was the cause. What were the victims supposed to do? What could they do? Non-sorcerers can’t perceive curses, much less defend themselves. They have to be chewed, swallowed, and digested. 

You kneel at the playground’s edge, inspecting the planks of rotten and peeling wood. It must’ve been assembled by hand. Each piece was planned, cut, and dutifully laid down. All to hold the wood chips that’d protect the kids as they ran, laughed, and played. This place should’ve been a fond memory for them to recall throughout their life. 

Instead, it’s the reason they’d never got to have one.

“The cursed energy is concentrated in the nursery room itself,” Gojo determines. 

You follow his line of sight and squint. You could tell the building was submerged in cursed energy, but you couldn’t pinpoint an exact location. 

“It’s moving in the same pattern, like a grid,” Geto says. Another observation you couldn’t make. “Starting in the top left corner, ending in the bottom right, then starting the process all over again.” 

Standing up, you dust the dirt off your skirt. “Why would a curse do that?” 

From a tactical standpoint, moving predictably is reckless. Any combatants could use the knowledge to their advantage. Curses have some degree of self-preservation, hence why they don’t waltz everywhere without a care in the world. They’re intelligent enough to avoid spots that sorcerers frequent. Fly heads are the lone exception, but that’s because they lack the intellect necessary to care for their survival. 

A curse capable of inflicting such serious wounds on a Grade One sorcerer can’t be that weak. 

Gojo exchanges glances with Geto, a semblance of understanding connecting them. You’ve witnessed this wordless exchange before. No matter how much they bicker over conflicting values or petty non-issues, they maintain the ability to synchronize their thoughts and actions. 

“What is it?” You snap. As soon as the acrid words leave your mouth, you regret it, although they don’t react. Taking a deep breath, you try again. “Communication is important for these missions, guys. Keep me in the loop… please?” 

Geto parts his lips, but Gojo cuts him off. “There are eighteen cribs inside. The curse is fixing the blankets in each one.” 

You shiver. 

“... Oh.” 

“How do you want to go about this, Satoru?” Geto asks. “It can’t be as simple as walking in and exorcising it.” 

“Why not? Its cursed energy is consistent with what you’d expect of a Second Grade. We both know this job’s smoke and mirrors, anyway. Let’s wrap it up already and head home.” 

“Isn’t it strange the curse hasn’t been drawn out, despite a curtain being cast?” You point out. 

For the first time since exiting the car, Gojo looks at you. You stare back at the two black circles that obscure his omnipotent eyes. Something’s been off ever since you embarked on this mission. It’s like an itch you can’t scratch, as its location shifts elsewhere whenever you try. His words have had an edge to them when directed at you. You’re used to his lackluster manners, but this is different. 

This cuts and it cuts deep. 

Are you that incompetent to him…? 

Gojo redirects his gaze toward the ramshackle building. 

“I’m getting this over with,” he says. Simply, decisively. Leaving no room for argument. 

Leaving no room for you. 

Massive tendrils of cursed energy coil around him, flowing unimpeded like water through a rushing brook. You step back solely from reflex. Anticipation thrums through the air and ignites every nerve in your body. You’re left wide-eyed and breathless as it gathers and grows, its potency hundreds of times greater than anything you’ve been able to achieve. It feels as though minutes have dragged by, reacquainting you with the surreal sensation you underwent upon meeting Gojo Satoru that fateful day. 

“Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.” 

Up until this point in your life, you thought you knew destruction. What hubris, what naivety. Gunfire, grenades, tanks, bombs, missiles; they are nothing but ants before the looming skyscraper that is Gojo Satoru. 

This is destruction in its raw, purest form. 

This is what it means to be the strongest. 

… Somehow, you feel lesser than that ant. 

A speck of dust would be a more fitting description. 

You expect total disintegration when you reopen your eyes. You aren’t disappointed.

Concrete, wood, glass, steel, plastic, stone, and fabric alike were eviscerated. The ground where the nursery once stood is gone. A bygone era wrought with tragedy. The force behind this apex of energy blasted the wood partition around the playground, leaving nothing but a shadow to signify it ever existed. 

Gojo lowers his hand and turns away from the wreckage. 

“Don’t you think you went a bit overboard, Satoru?” Geto’s tone reminds you of the many scoldings Yaga has given the white-haired menace. 

“Just wanted to ensure the threat was dealt with, so Kenji can sleep through the night without wetting himself,” Gojo replies, smirking. “Alrighty then, who wants to sightsee—” 

“Naptime… naptime…” A garbled voice intones from the aftermath of Gojo’s attack. 

The deformed curse lifts itself like a marionette fastened to invisible strings. It’s tall, with an emaciated build and haggard skin. Long clumps of thick hair emerge from its scalp, greasy and matted. Each feeble step it takes is accompanied by a snapping sound, as if its joints are begging for collapse. The humanoid shape disturbs you most of all. Cracked lips, bloodied eye sockets, chunks of deathly pale skin sloughing off brittle bones; this curse looks more like a corpse than anything else. 

Most damning, however, is the sheer power it’s radiating. 

“Do… they… slumber…?” It croaks.

Suguru assumes an offensive position, but Gojo puts an arm out, stopping him. 

“Something’s off,” Gojo warns. If you thought he sounded serious before, that doesn’t compare to his timbre now. “Don’t attack it.” 

The curse’s legs give out. That doesn’t stop it from crawling on. Lanky fingers claw at the rubble, searching desperately.

Geto summons a handful of curses in its radius. He keeps them on standby while the three of you track every movement, every ebb and flow of cursed energy. The curse grabs and cradles the sediment in its crooked hands, then rocks the amalgamation as if it were a baby. 

“Did you hit it?” You whisper, knowing fully well the question is pointless. You don’t care. You need any semblance of control possible when confronted with the terrifying unknown. 

“I did. The impact inflicted zero damage,” Gojo removes his sunglasses and tucks them away.

“A special condition, then?” Geto proposes. “One that makes it impervious to all harm until…” 

You hear a sniffle. 

Then a whimper. 

And a gurgle. 

“Hush, hush, hush, hush, hush, hush, hush—” 

The curse repeats this mantra with increasing aggravation until its shrill voice is all you can hear. The cursed energy that enveloped it seconds prior flows out in multiple directions, like a heart pumping blood to the rest of the body. The energy is absorbed. Not a meager trace remains, every drop was sucked dry by multiple sources. 

All is still. 

All is silent. 

A bloodcurdling wail reverberates throughout the curtain. 

Eighteen appendages propel out of the curse in the middle, puncturing it from the inside out as if the limp mass was a cocoon. 

There’s no need for deliberation.

The three of you scatter in different directions. 

“Cursed Technique: Ophanim.” 

Two glowing, golden rings the size of wheels manifest by your side. The outside surface is adorned with closed eyes, each arranged individually on top of the other rather than in pairs. The two rings work in tandem to slice through the appendage barreling toward you. You recall them to your side, running at a breakneck speed to avoid the five fleshy appendages still seeking your demise. 

Gojo and Geto are in a similar predicament. Running, leaping, and dodging the seismic attacks that leave massive craters in its wake. A single hit from that would crush your body in an instant. Then there’s the disorienting wailing, originating from multiple locations throughout the curtain’s interior. You can’t pinpoint where the sounds are coming from. 

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, oxygen rushes with each sharp inhale, and your muscles strain to keep up with the demands you make of them. 

The sixth appendage, which your cursed technique cut through, lurches from above. Whole and better than ever. Unlike before, its momentum is lightning-fast. The change is so instantaneous that you have no time to respond accordingly. Death’s harbinger looms, engulfing your existence in its hungry shadow. Instead of slicing it off at the wrist, you propel your rings up, accelerating their spin at the cost of speed. Flesh and cartilage rips above you in the shape of a thin slit. 

The appendage plummets down. 

Through the ringing in your ears, you hear voices yelling out your name. 

An unpleasant, viscous substance coats you from head to toe. 

You grimace and wipe off what you can. Geto’s curses managed to cut the appendage off at the joint, preventing it from rising and trying to crush you again. Your rings barely managed to carve a hole big enough to span the width of your body. That doesn’t mean you’re safe just yet — the five remaining appendages that have you as their target are seconds away. Unlike the one you just faced, their speed is manageable. 

The more damage inflicted, the faster they are after healing, you think. This must be why Gojo and Geto are dodging instead of going on the offense.

However, since you remained still to avoid getting crushed by what your rings hadn’t cut through, the other five appendages are inbound. They’ve fanned out, blocking any angle you’d use to dodge. 

You dismiss your cursed technique. 

What can be done here? This curse is easily a Grade One. The centermost part is invulnerable and the eighteen limbs growing off it speed up when damaged. Summoning more rings so you can escape this attack means the next will come swifter, building and building to unimaginable speeds. You know your limits. The second healed limb was a hair below the fastest you’ve ever run. 

Gojo and Geto could handle the levels above that. Maybe there’s a limit to how many times the limbs can regenerate, reaching that could exorcise the curse. No curse is truly invincible, even if it seems like it in the moment. You must be the reason why they haven’t commenced a counterattack. They knew anything above a second regeneration would do you in. 

Is that really the only way? 

Something wet drips on your head.

You use what little time you have to glance up. 

Suspended midair is a small outline, made visible by the viscera that spurted from your cursed technique’s earlier attack. Sluggishly, you blink, wiping the blood from your eyes to ensure you aren’t hallucinating. The outline’s edges wriggle and squirm. You realize that it’s doing so in time with the incessant wailing. 

“What do you think you’re doing, spacing out in the middle of a fight?” 

Gojo must’ve warped in front of you.

You recognize the hand motion he’s making, and cry out, “Don’t! That’ll only make it—” 

“I know, I know,” Gojo launches a devastating blow that obliterates the five incoming appendages, reducing them to pitiful scraps. “I didn’t just run a marathon for you to give up and become a pancake.” 

“I didn’t give up,” you snap back. 

He glances over his shoulder and grins. “Good. Cause we need to hose you off as soon as possible.” 

You let out a noise in between a laugh and a cry. How can he crack jokes under these dire circumstances?

“Gojo—” 

“Ah ah ah,” The menace cuts you off, “Satoru. Call me anything else and I’m leaving you to handle this on your own.” 

While speaking his untimely quips, he continuously forms and releases his Cursed Technique Lapse, Blue. This forces the broken appendages into a cycle of stitching themselves together only to get destroyed again. It stuns you, how he can casually hold a conversation while performing a technique that’d use all your cursed energy to execute once. Never mind countless times in rapid succession. 

“Satoru,” you try again, to which he hums, “This… thing above me, do you think it’s…?” 

“The weak spot for this Ju-On ripoff? Yeah. Just noticed that. Suguru’s curses are self-destructing near them, so their invisibility’s useless.” 

The six appendages that tracked Satoru join the fray, granting Geto additional space to maneuver unhindered. Floating blobs covered in the innards of curses appear one by one like macabre lanterns in the night sky. You can’t stop yourself from admiring how effortless they make it look. It was all you could do to avoid the curses’ attacks, that required every ounce of your cognition. Meanwhile, they pieced together the curses’ gimmick and started countermeasures. 

“Anything broken?” Satoru asks. 

“Just a few sprains.” 

“Great. Now, I’m about to ask for a lot, but it’s nothing I don’t think you can’t handle.” 

You exhale shakily. 

“There’s another application of your cursed technique, right?” 

How does he know that? 

You’ll worry about this oddity later. 

“There is, but,” you stare down at your blood-soaked hands, “Why are you asking?” 

Satoru takes a moment to consider his response. The gory splatters are reforming faster and faster, you’ve lost count of how many blasts he’s used to cut them down. It’s almost imperceptible, but you can tell he can’t keep this up forever. Each subsequent use of Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue requires more energy than the last. If he’s a sliver off in his calculations, then the appendages will heal instantaneously and skewer your body faster than death can claim you. 

Geto leaps down from a hovering curse. 

“There are seventeen sources, just like you said,” he huffs, wiping the perspiration trickling down his temple. “Each one is visible now.” 

Seventeen sources? 

“This eyesore’s a distraction. Those screaming curses — they’re the real target here,” Satoru says. 

You consider the curse a few feet above your head. “So we should attack them, right?” 

Geto shakes his head. “We tried that. They didn’t sustain any damage.” 

“Seriously?” 

“This is just a theory, but,” Satoru takes a deep breath, “Seventeen of the eighteen victims from this place had their life support pulled simultaneously, right?” 

Huh. So he did read the briefing after all. 

This conjecture prickles at your skin like tiny needles. The screaming, the small stature these curses have, every detail comes crashing down at once. Maggots writhing beneath your skin would be more pleasant. 

It isn’t them, you tell yourself, because you have to. It’s an echo. The curse they left behind. 

You steeple your fingers. Cursed energy thrums around and through you, reverberating in your bones, and crackling throughout your soul. Simultaneously. That’s the key here. These curses can pull off their various immunities by using conditions to their advantage. 

The two warding off the original curses’ attacks before you are strong, yes, but this niche fits you well. 

If you’re able to perform it properly, that is. 

You accept every drop of cursed energy your body can handle. Once you’re filled to the brim, it’s expelled, rushing through the air like geysers. 

“Cursed Technique: Null.” 

Your ability is versatile if not simple. 

You can call forth golden rings that perpetually spin clockwise. Their size, speed, and sharpness are determined by you. At this point in your training, you can maintain two of these rings without sacrificing speed or sharpness. Should you bring out any more, they will dull and slow down for each addition made. Two could slash through steel, four could cut the same slab halfway, six would make a sizable dent, eight would leave a scratch; so on and so forth. 

There’s an additional application beyond this. 

Cursed Technique: Null — the pinnacle of the innate ability you inherited, Ophanim.

The sorcerer creates three rings around any object or organism. One spins around the target horizontally. The other two slant left and right respectively, all spinning counterclockwise. The closed eyes adorning the ring’s outside fly open. Unblinking, hypervigilant. If what they’re enclosed around is significantly weaker than the sorcerer, it can halt the movements of whatever or whoever is within. 

Your record is halting thirty mice for a total of two minutes and four seconds. 

Afterward, you can either dispel the rings or pull them toward the epicenter. The rings then slash through the target like a fruit slicer. 

You see the seventeen silhouettes emphasized with blood. 

As you will it, three golden rings surround each one. The cursed energy swaddling them hisses and resists your designs. Their wailing crescendos, culminating at an ear-piercing pitch. The fussing stops abruptly as the eyes on each ring open wide. Seventeen different targets, fifty-one rings… it is draining cursed energy from you fast. 

Four seconds. This is as long as you trust the halt to work.

That leaves the issue of cutting through them. 

These aren’t the used soda cans you’ve practiced on. They are curses, Semi-Grade One if you were to guess. You’re a Grade Three sorcerer. The chasm here won’t be bridged by a miracle, you’ll have to risk catapulting across and plummeting to your demise. Satoru’s likely unaware of your technique’s specifics, as even you required trial and error to determine this much. You never found documentation on Ophanim. Every unraveled facet is owed to you. 

These fifty-one rings are too dull. They won’t make so much as an indent.

What you need here is a binding vow. Your own strength isn’t enough. Risk, danger, and death breathing down your neck; these are the ingredients you require. There’s a chance it won’t work and you’re condemning yourself to an early grave. If you don’t try, though, you don’t know how long Satoru and Geto can keep those appendages down. 

Time to leap across. 

For every second I don’t exorcise these curses, ten of my bones will break, you think. Should I reach ten seconds, my heart will stop.

Cursed energy surges through you. It finds the prospect of your end tantalizing, but without providing itself, won’t have the opportunity to claim you. 

One.

(The rings gain immeasurable speed).

Two. 

(It hurts, but the curses will hurt too). 

Three. 

(Simultaneous incisions are made through seventeen curses).

The wailing stops. 

…

So does your breathing. 

-

August 15th, 2005. Grade One Curse  ‘The Caretaker’ and Semi-Grade One Curses ‘Little Ones’ were exorcised at 9:34 p.m. in Kaizu.

-

Hospital rooms aren’t renowned for their interior design. 

Flimsy pillows, scratchy gowns, thin blankets, bright yellow lights, ghostly white walls, it’s an affront to the eyes. You almost want to continue resting if that’s all you’ll get to look at. Considering how stiff your neck is and how your limbs feel heavier than a grand piano, you assume you’ve done enough sleeping. 

You prop yourself up as much as you can. This slight shift makes your body complain, nice and loud. 

Footsteps rush over to your bed. You hear your name spoken, intermixed with a relieved sigh. 

“You don’t stay knocked down for long, do you?” Geto muses. His smile is gentle and his eyes crinkle in delight. “Welcome back. How do you feel?” 

“Like I got run over by a train,” you rasp. 

You’re in desperate need of some vocal warmups. 

Geto grabs a water bottle from the windowsill and hands it over. While you gulp the heavenly elixir down, he continues speaking. 

“You weren’t out for long — two days. Well, two and a half days. It’s noon now.”

You relax after hearing this. Geto knew how to assuage any worries you might have before you dared to voice them. Everyone has their own way of bringing kindness into the world, this happens to be his. 

“Seriously? I was expecting you to say it’s the year 2010 or something. No flying cars yet?”  

“None that I’ve seen,” Geto’s laugh sounds light and airy. “Shoko’s reversed cursed technique is truly a marvel. It accelerated your healing, but I imagine the pain will linger a while longer.” 

You’ll have to cook Shoko one of her favorite dishes when you get back. You don’t want to think about how long it would’ve taken for you to heal naturally, much less if it’d heal right. Bones are finicky like that. You imagine yours weren’t happy at how you offered them up on a silver platter. 

She spared your family so much pain. You’ll forever be indebted to her for that.

Glancing around, you notice three mismatched chairs surrounding your bed. Geto follows your line of sight.

“Shoko and I finally chased Satoru out about an hour ago. He’s lived in this room since you were admitted. Didn’t sleep a wink either,” Geto gives you an expression you can’t quite place. “Around the forty-two-hour mark, he started making strange suggestions.” 

Heaviness seeps into the air, thick and palpable, like a noxious gas.  

“What kind of suggestions?” 

“Suggestions like killing the higher-ups, for starters.” 

Your thudding heart leaps to your throat. “... Huh?” 

“It’s not anything he hasn’t said in jest before. This time, however,” Geto fixates his attention on the intravenous line threaded into your arm. You can feel the weight of his stare. “He wasn’t joking.” 

It feels like you’re in one of those dreams that mimics reality so well, the line separating the two becomes increasingly distorted. You entertain the theory briefly. A single sweep of the room dispels the illusion. The loose thread on Geto’s shoulder, the sounds of carts rolling down the long hospital corridors, the lemon-tinged scent from cleaning supplies; could a dream be this detailed? 

You don’t think so.

Sensing your haziness, he clarifies, “I talked him out of it by speaking in your stead. I assumed you wouldn’t want that.”

“What… what do the higher-ups have to do with anything…?” 

How do they factor into the two plus two equals four equation? 

Geto pulls a chair over to your bedside, sits, and contemplates. Such a grave visage doesn’t belong on a fifteen-year-old’s face. It reminds you of a father preparing to explain why he and their mother are getting a divorce to their children. 

He weighs his next words on a scale only he’s privy to.

“Satoru had a gut feeling that there was more to the Kaizu mission. He must not have wanted you to have that in the back of your mind out on the field, since all it takes is one mistake to—”

He cuts himself off. His complexion takes a pallid shade.

You give him a gentle smile. Geto is more considerate than you initially gave him credit for. Ignoring the dull ache, you lean forward, placing your hand over his.

“It’s okay. You can keep going.” 

The tips of his ears turn red. 

He blinks rapidly, clears his throat, and then soldiers on. “R-Right. Well, you saw how he acted. With his Six Eyes, he spotted the remains of another sorcerer when he looked at the nursery. The briefing conveniently omitted the fact that Kenji wasn’t alone. This confirmed Satoru’s suspicions. He wanted to wrap things up fast to get you out of there, but… that curse proved challenging.” 

“I’m getting this over with.” 

Ah. So that’s why he came off that way, you think. Still… couldn’t there have been a better way? Why is blocking people out his go-to?

“We believe the Zenins — those in Kenji’s immediate circle, to be specific — hoped that you’d be… killed, to emphasize how formidable the threat he faced was. Since this job was assigned through the school, some of the higher-ups must’ve known and granted their blessing.” 

“... Oh.” 

The room’s air conditioning whirrs to life, billowing the beige curtains draped over the closed window. Outside, a cicada crawls over the glass pane. It pauses to recite its buzzing melody. Since it’s summer, you can expect to see and hear these insects until autumn’s chill sweeps away the heat. 

You hope Satoru witnessed a similarly trivial scene while sitting in this room.  

It’s important to remember just because you feel stuck, the world won’t stop spinning onward. 

“Would it be okay if I called you Suguru?” 

He nods without hesitation.  

“Suguru, earlier you said that you changed Satoru’s mind by voicing my perspective since I couldn’t,” you start, your cadence gentle. You handpick each word with great care. “Does this mean that, personally, you agreed with him?” 

His countenance is like that of a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. This look doesn’t overstay its welcome. Once he assesses you, from your open posture to your soft stare, he’s back to his usual self. 

“Busted, huh? And here I thought you’d be too groggy to pick up on anything incriminating.”

“A corrupt official such as myself must remain vigilant,” you reply with a cheeky grin. Then, you reorient yourself to communicate what’s been gnawing at you properly. “There’s a lot I don’t know about these ‘higher-ups’ or ‘Zenins,’ that you keep referring to. What little I do know doesn’t paint them in a favorable light. For all I know, they could be irredeemable in every sense of the word. But…”

“... Even though this is a selfish wish, I’m making it anyway. Say they do have to go. That it’s 100% certain they’re just that bad. I don’t want you or Satoru to be the ones to carry it out. Intentionally killing someone… could there be anything worse than that? Doesn’t a part of yourself die with them?”

A lump grows in your throat. You force it down. 

“So, thank you for stopping him and yourself. Sorcerers are meant to fight curses, right? Protect those who can’t protect themselves. That sort of stuff.”

Suguru squeezes your hand gently, as if you were made of porcelain. 

It stops you from shattering. 

After a few minutes, your erratic breathing settles. He whispers your name like he’s making a promise.

“You’re right,” he says, a newfound resolve built into the very fabric of those two words. “Protecting the weak is what matters most. Tossing everything into disarray would threaten that. It’s easier to fix what’s broken than to demolish and rebuild from scratch.” 

… Is that what you meant? 

Exhaustion clouds your senses. You must’ve burnt through your scarce reserves of energy. You can vaguely discern Suguru running the pad of his thumb over your hand, before detaching himself. He readjusts your pillow so it supports your head better. After murmuring your gratitude, you sink into sleep’s warm embrace. 

Right as you’re traipsing the fine line between wakefulness and the unconscious, there’s a light sensation of something brushing your hair back. 

This unknown doesn’t inspire fear or outrage. 

Instead, it lulls you further into the recesses of peace. 

-

You’re discharged from the hospital later that day. 

An auxiliary manager from Tokyo Jujutsu High drives you back. You spend the car ride staring out the passenger side window, taking in the bustle of busy citizens and dazzling lights. It never fails to amaze you how people wordlessly maneuver around each other to maintain the flow of traffic. It’s a tempo that can’t be instructed, rather, one must adapt in real time without a conductor.  

Can non-sorcerers truly be considered weak? 

The description torments you as if it were a thorn in your side. 

Your fingers drum over the dashboard.

What does it mean to be strong, anyway? 

-

The next time you activate your cursed technique, you can summon and maintain four rings without sacrificing sharpness or speed. 

For the past few days, you’ve been playing around with different formations. Four rings orbiting your body provide considerable defense from projectiles and close combat. Then, if you let two out, you gain the means to attack. Lastly, ditching defense to pour everything into offense is a viable option as well. Your biggest obstacle is how mentally taxing it is to track and manipulate four rings at once.

It requires great concentration. This isn’t an issue if you’re alone, but you doubt that curses will play nice and let you stand perfectly still. 

You flip your My Melody notebook to the next page and scribble down, 

Two rings uptime — twelve hours.Four rings uptime — one hour. Four rings uptime w/ distractions — ten minutes. Maximum distance — one hundred meters. Maximum rings at once — sixty. Uptime on maximum rings — five seconds.

Thinking back to The Caretaker, you twist your lips.

If you’d been sent on that mission by yourself, would this have been enough to win the fight? You’re alive because you were with Satoru and Suguru. There’s no denying the infallible truth. You can’t always rely on reports to accurately grade a curse. There’s also the chance once certain conditions are met, the curse can gain strength throughout the fight, and—

“Cute handwriting.” 

“Eek!” 

Hugging your notebook to your chest, you jump back, indignation rushing through you like molten magma. Who snuck up on you? How did they do it? You can ascertain the presence of others in your vicinity well. You know when Shoko’s sneaking out through her window at night, if Suguru’s about to enter the room, or when Utahime is seconds away from busting into the classroom to lecture Satoru about levitating her lunch onto the roof again.

Squinting, you assess the assailant. Pearly white hair, round sunglasses, a lean and towering figure… 

“Satoru? You’re back?” 

According to Shoko, Satoru was called to Kyoto for business relating to the Big Three not long after they returned from the hospital. It’d been two weeks since then. You’ve gotten so used to having him around, that his absence felt pronounced. Shoko mainly lamented that her ‘walking free meal ticket’ was gone whereas Utahime rejoiced. You’ve never seen your upperclassman so ecstatic. 

Her hopes and dreams will be dashed come morning. 

“Just got in, yeah. Why? Oh! I know! You must’ve missed me terribly. Here, here. It’s alright. C’mere and tell me all about it— oof!” 

There is a barrier that separates Satoru from everyone and everything. 

‘Infinity,’ he calls it. The ability to slow down encroaching mass to such a degree that it appears as if it stopped. He can keep it activated for long lengths of time. One day, he intends to reach a level where he’ll never have to turn it off. Anyone else who proposed a goal like that would either be conceited or delusional. The amount of cursed energy necessary to pull that off is immeasurable. 

Satoru isn’t just anyone, though. 

So when he sets an impossible goal, it enters the realm of feasibility. 

His infinity is active once you leap toward him, lasting up until the very last millisecond. When you breach the threshold that denies access to anyone else, it recedes, rushing away to accommodate your presence. Infinity remains present, molding itself around your shape. The top of your head, the slope of your shoulders, down to your soles; for a fleeting moment in time, infinity chooses you over Satoru’s parameters.  

Your cheek hits his chest. He has to steady you so you don’t go tumbling back. While he does this, you snake your arms around him, squeezing him tight. In doing so, yet another anomaly occurs. 

You’ve rendered Gojo Satoru speechless. 

When you pull back, you notice his sunglasses are crooked. You straighten them out for him and nod in approval. Smiling ear to ear, you chirp, 

“Welcome home, Satoru!” 

He scratches the back of his neck, uncharacteristically quiet. 

“... Isn’t this a school, though?” He finally manages to get out. 

“Pfft, I didn’t think you were the type to get hung up on details like that,” you laugh. “Home’s anywhere you want it to be. For me, that’s here.” 

You gesture to the surrounding area. Tall trees sway per the wind’s wishes, their green leaves painted blue and silver by the night sky. The moon overhead serves as your silent witness. No matter where you are, it will find and pursue you to the ends of the earth. Crickets chirp, cicadas buzz, and frogs croak by ponds rippling with their young. The night air is damp, but the coolness granted by the sun’s absence makes it tolerable. 

“Honestly, I don’t know what to make of you sometimes,” Satoru tries painting a veneer of nonchalance over his words, but you can see through the cracks. You’re getting better at doing that.  “Suguru said you were as peppy as ever; I didn’t believe him. They checked for brain damage, right? How many fingers am I holding up?” 

(He holds up two). 

“Ten,” you reply without missing a beat. 

“Funny girl.” 

“I learned from the best.” 

You both silently size one another up. Or, in Satoru’s case, down, because he’s freakishly tall. You’re the first to break the supposed standoff. Laughter rings through the air, just yours at first, but it’s soon joined by his. The two of you stand in the middle of a forest at midnight cackling like a bunch of witches before a sabbath. 

You feel absurd and giddy in a way that only comes from being around Satoru.

Some point after the laughter dies off, you can feel Satoru’s eyes scanning over every dip and curve of your being. 

After reaching some conclusion, his shoulders droop. The dopey grin on his face shifts into something more neutral, more reserved. His hands find their way into his pockets. He kicks a pebble into the woods, and you both listen to it tumbling downhill until the sound fades away. The thickets shift from wildlife’s constant antics, accommodating what little fauna lives inside Tengen’s barrier. 

“I’m not going to take back what I said, because I meant it,” Satoru asserts. He doesn’t have to elaborate — you know what he’s referring to. “Had you… had that mission gone as they intended, I wouldn’t have hesitated.” 

An owl hoots on a distant tree branch. 

Chills nibble all over your skin like little bug bites. You hug yourself to stave the sensation off. 

“Even if you knew that isn’t what I’d want?”

“Even then.” 

“So, you’re admitting it’d be for your sake?” 

“Most things are.”

“I don’t buy that,” you frown. “You’re kinder than you realize.”

His eyebrows pinch together and his rosy lips part. It takes him a moment to dislodge the words stuck in his throat.

“... Not many people would agree,” he smiles thinly.  

“Fine, just me then, since that’s easier to prove,” you hold up a single finger and raise another for each subsequent point. “One, you always leave my favorite coffee cans where you know I’ll find them. Two, whenever we’re facing a curse, you step in front to guard me. Three, if I look all sad and homesick, you make stupid jokes to take my mind off things. And four, there’s what happened in Kaizu. You—” 

“I told you to use a technique you weren’t ready for.” 

You blink. 

He tucks his sunglasses away, removing yet another barrier. His crystalline eyes shimmer beneath the moon’s glow. 

“How much do you know about your mentor’s history?” 

Ah, yes, your mentor — Ishimoto Akane. 

She stands at 5’8, boasts piercing green eyes, short, tousled black hair, and a tattoo of a thorny rose that envelops her entire left arm. When it came to reading the room, no one could fail as spectacularly as her. She never minced words, found basic tasks boring, and doted over her iguana named Wormwood like he was the second coming of Christ. When she wasn’t pampering Wormwood, she could be found in her very disorganized garage, tinkering with cars or motorcycles. Her neighbors filed numerous sound complaints thanks to her speakers blasting disco at unholy hours. Somehow, she never got caught. 

For lack of a better word, your jujutsu mentor is eccentric. 

Most notably, she saved you and your parent’s lives from a curse when you were six. You’ve been joined by the hip ever since. 

As for her history…

“Um, well, I know that she’s from Omachi. She moved out of Japan in her late teens because ‘jujutsu sorcerers are an absolute drag,’ or something like that.”

“That’s a start,” Gojo hums. “Let me fill in the blanks. The Ishimoto family goes back a ways. They might not be as influential as the Big Three, but their connections are nothing to scoff at. They’re like little leeches, sustaining themselves off others. Arranged marriages are their whole thing. Akane was set to marry some third son of a Zenin bigwig. She dipped on the day of the wedding.” 

That sounds like your mentor alright. 

“Personally, I find that hilarious. Her family and the Zenins aren’t of the same opinion. They essentially disowned her. Anyway! Fast forward a few years. Rumors spread that the infamous Akane is popping up in Tokyo every now and then, with some kid by her side. Ring any bells?” 

You point to yourself and he nods. 

She took you on training trips under the guise of an ‘exchange student program’ in the summer, which your parents considered to be an excellent opportunity. You felt bad for deceiving them, but explaining the whole ‘fighting invisible monster things with emotion magic’ would’ve made for a rough conversation. 

“It wasn’t until a couple of months back that I ran into her. I came right out and asked what I’d been curious about — why did she come back? She just shrugged and said she was done being a teacher. That answer didn’t satisfy me. She’s stubborn, I’ll give her that. I’m far worse though,” he boasts, fully looking and sounding the part. “In return for picking up her tab at an izakaya, she fessed up the truth.”

He steeples his fingers together, pantomiming a hand motion you’re intimately familiar with.

“Cursed Technique: Null, the advanced application of Ophanim. Akane’s convinced an ability like that, at its full potential, would be crazy strong.” 

She never said anything like that to me, you think.

You shake your head. This isn’t the most pressing matter now. 

“Satoru, what are you getting at here?” 

“That you shouldn’t think I’m kind. I wanted to judge your technique’s potential for myself, so I had you take on more than you could handle.” 

“You wouldn’t have let me die, though.” 

He chuckles mirthlessly. “And what a hero I am for that.” 

You purse your lips. You’ve never seen Satoru be this hard on himself. His cadence is the same — lighthearted, easygoing — but there’s an underlying acrimony to it. His smile doesn’t reach his brilliant eyes. He comes across as a spirit mimicking another’s likeness. This should unnerve you, maybe it will upon further reflection. 

Right now, however, you just want him to get across that you aren’t upset. What’s done is done. 

“It’s—” 

Satoru puts a hand up, stopping you prematurely. “Oh no you don’t. Don’t forgive me, not yet, anyway. You need to get better at looking out for yourself. You’re nice to a fault.” 

You glare at him halfheartedly. “What’s so wrong with being nice?” 

“Living in a world like this, where there are people like me.” 

“A world full of Gojo Satoru’s… that is a terrifying thought,” you murmur. His lips twitch upward, but he catches himself. “Bleh, what is it with you people and rejecting basic human decency! Akane was the same way. I’m fed up with it!” 

You storm toward him, your eyes narrow and jaw set tight. 

“I’m going to be who I want to be and that’s that. Maybe I’m naïve—” 

“—Oh, it isn’t a maybe, you definitely are—” 

You hush him by placing your finger to his lips, much to his surprise, if his wide eyes are of any indication. 

“—But you don’t get to tell me how to act or think or feel. That’s my business. I forgive you, alright? Now cut it out with the brooding. Let’s be real here. Doing that’s for you, not for me.” 

There’s an intensity to his stare you’ve never experienced prior. It makes your head feel light and hazy. Remembering yourself, you pull your hand back, heat rushing to your face. You may have gotten carried away. He isn’t wrong about you exercising more vigilance, but something about him critiquing a core aspect of your identity stings. The description ‘oversensitive’ can join the same limbo your ‘nice to a fault’ and ‘naïve’ proclivities hang out in. 

Finding your current predicament too overwhelming, you break eye contact. 

“Alright, alright, I get it, quit scowling. Remind me never to piss you off again, it’s scary,” he sounds more like himself, much to your relief. “I thought of a happy medium, just for you.” 

Satoru compromising? Did you die during that fight after all? You never thought you’d see the day. Shoko isn’t going to believe you. 

“And that happy medium is…?” 

His dumb grin makes a triumphant return. He knows he’s got your attention, no matter how cool you try to play it. 

“Keep being your sweet little self. If anyone tries taking advantage of that quality, and I mean anyone, come tell Suguru or myself. We’ll take care of it.” 

What is he, a member of the mob?! 

Whatever, it’s a step in the right direction. You think. Maybe. 

“I’m not a snitch,” you huff. 

“Fine, I’ll use my own discretion then.” 

“You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re gonna have to get used to it.” 

You quirk an eyebrow. “How do you figure?” 

“Call it intuition,” he hums, smoothly sliding his sunglasses back into place. It makes you angry how cool he looks while doing so. “Or, better yet, love at first sight. Yeah. Let’s go with that, actually.” 

Wait, what? 

Your heart thunders against your ribcage and you gape at him like a fish. 

“You…! Y-You can’t just say something like that!” 

“But I did.” 

“Ugh, I’ve had enough. I’m headed to bed. Go find somebody else to mess with.” 

Satoru pauses, considering the words you’ve spoken without any real bite. Then he smiles. Not in the cocky, arrogant manner he’s infamous for either. The curvature is gentle. Almost sentimental. It takes you aback and makes you wonder if your eyes are malfunctioning. 

“I can’t,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It has to be you.” 

It has to be you, it has to be you, it has to be you… 

These five damning words loop in your head like a mantra. Who gave him the right to sound so sincere? 

“Sleep well. You get all grumpy if you don’t. Having one Utahime around is more than enough, I don’t need you getting on my case too.” 

Satoru turns around, pulling one hand out from his pocket to wave halfheartedly. You observe his retreating figure before snapping out of your daze. He drops a cryptic line like that and dares to casually waltz away, whistling while he does so! The nerve! The audacity! The whistling is off-pitch too! Jujutsu Tech seriously needs to consider adding music theory to the curriculum. 

You jog to catch up with him and his stupidly long legs. 

“Hey, Satoru!” You call out. 

He stops and looks at you from over his shoulder. 

“If you’re gonna watch out for me, I plan to return the favor,” you say, your tone leaving no room to argue. “You hear me?” 

He waits until he’s facing forward again to respond. For this reason, you can’t see his expression. All you can make out is the outline of him giving a thumbs up, the edges of his skin swathed in silvery moonlight. 

“Mhm. Loud and clear.”  

-

December 23rd, 2017. 

8:02 p.m. 

-

You assess the man in front of you.

Pearly white hair, bandages wrapped around his eyes, a lean and towering figure… it’s Satoru, alright. There’s no mistaking his remarkable cursed energy. You could sense it — sense him — even in your deepest sleep. Amongst those at Jujutsu Tech, you’re the only one who can tell when he’s about to warp out of thin air. It’s become a running joke of sorts. Gojo Satoru has the Six Eyes and you possess a sixth sense for him. 

Or so you thought. 

“Are you hearing yourself?” 

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Loud and clear, yeah.” 

“This isn’t funny, Satoru!” 

“I’m not laughing, am I?” 

“No, but,” you inhale shakily, wisely taking a second to tame your tongue. “You’re not taking this seriously— not taking me seriously.”

He frowns. You come close to regretting your words, falling just a few inches short. Arguments aren’t your forte. Determining when to surrender ground, bolster your defenses, or charge into enemy territory; this is a skill that requires practice. Especially when facing Satoru. You don’t want to consider him an opponent, but that’s what he feels like right now. An imposing wall blocking you from the road you have to take. 

You regret turning up the duplex’s heat. Chilly as it is outside in the throes of winter, the air in this room has become scorching. 

“Is that genuinely what you think?” 

And there it is. He already knows the answer, as do you. He simply wants you to have your confession on record. 

You grab the water bottle you left on the kitchen countertop, drinking enough to help ease the lump in your throat. This isn’t the time to cry. Not yet. Not before anything major occurs. The crisis hasn’t taken the stage, Christmas Eve holds that honor. Illogical as it may be, you don’t think you’ve earned the emotional release crying brings. That should remain a consolation prize to you in the future. 

The you who will witness the horrors Geto Suguru plans to orchestrate. 

The you who will learn how this decade-long saga ends. 

Can the human heart endure anguish worse than this?  

Tomorrow, this question will receive an answer, whether you want it or not. 

“... It isn’t.” 

“Good,” he says, somehow soft and firm. He opens up his arms. “C’mere.” 

You’re sinking into him before he finishes the word. He secures you against his chest and the two of you tangle together like you’d unravel should you part. Satoru rests his chin on the crown of your head, mindlessly tracing patterns into your back. Or so you think, until you recognize the distinct grooves and curves of the characters which form Gojo. 

He engraves it into you over and over again as if casting a spell. 

This action must soothe him. You count each thump of his heart, noting how it settles into a steadier rhythm as the seconds tick by. The world’s strongest sorcerer is made of flesh and blood just like you are. It’s easy to forget that those you love and admire are mortal, regardless of how well they hide it. Those close to godhood must act the part, lest their audience murmur in suspicion. 

“I don’t think I could do it, Toru.” 

He doesn’t need to ask what you mean. 

“Intentionally killing someone… could there be anything worse than that?” 

No, you desperately scream to your younger self, as if there were any way to make her hear you. There really isn’t. 

“I know.” 

“... Could you?” 

Satoru’s muscles stiffen. From this alone, you can glean his answer. From your lack of prodding, he must piece this together too. Talkative as you both are, it’s in these pockets of total silence that your communication shines best. Everything from the subtle hitching of breath to the twitch of one another’s lips reveals streams of information to sift through. 

You can tell he doesn’t want to let you go, but you manage to wriggle out of his vice-like grip, creating a few inches of distance.

Reaching up, you undo the bandages around his eyes. He leans down to aid you in your task. Once the last strip comes off, you fold the linen neatly and put it aside. Satoru’s pretty eyes follow your every movement. When your attention returns to him, it’s impossible to overlook how hard he’s straining to fight back a smile. 

He quickly abandons the farce. 

Large hands seek out yours. Subconsciously, you meet him halfway, automatically drawn to him as if you were both different ends of a magnet. His slender fingers interlace with yours. His countenance radiates such fondness, such unfiltered reverence, that you find yourself getting embarrassed.

“W-What?” You choke out. 

“Just thinking about how I’m the luckiest guy alive, is all,” he hums. His grin widens at how his unabashed compliments fluster you. Shame isn’t in his lexicon. “You went from looking like you wanted to bite my head off to doting on me.” 

You roll your eyes yet chuckle nonetheless. He visibly perks up at the sound. He must’ve made you laugh thousands of times over the years, but he still treats each instance as if he’d experienced the most delightful composition. 

He whispers your name. 

“You trust me, right?” 

“Of course.” 

“Then do this for me, baby.” 

“But…” you trail off, unable and perhaps unwilling to reinforce your argument, “Everyone is going to be risking their lives. Nanamin, Ijichi, ours and Iori’s students; even Shoko’s going out on the field. How am I supposed to sit still knowing that?” 

“You don’t have to sit still, my little energizer bunny.” 

The deadpan look he receives has him (wisely) reconsidering his word choice. 

“I’m not asking because I don’t trust you, I’m asking because there’s no one I trust more,” Satoru tries again. You bite your lower lip. It’s unfair how much his rare glimpses of sincerity move you. 

“And this is all based on a hunch?” 

“Mhm.” 

Satoru lifts your left hand. He caresses your skin, his smile softening into something tender. An expression that’s exclusively for you. 

“Historically, my hunches are rather reliable.”

You can’t argue with the truth. 

Suguru appears to have some unknown design for Okkotsu Yuta, who is to remain at Jujutsu Tech during the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. The special-grade curse Orimoto Rika poses too many risks for him to be on the battlefield alongside allies. Since everyone down to the Ainu society is being called upon to deal with this threat, you’ve been awaiting your assignment. There’s no way they wouldn’t utilize every resource available. 

Satoru ruined this assumption.

He personally requested that you remain on standby at the school. 

He didn’t even tell you this himself. You found out from Maki of all people, who earlier asked why you were stuck ‘babysitting the exchange student.’ You were confused. This made her confused. Then you both remembered the menace that is Gojo Satoru and everything started adding up. 

His explanation upon answering the phone? 

“Oh, I was just getting around to telling you about that!” 

Needless to say, you didn’t share his enthusiasm. 

“Alright,” you sigh. “I’ll keep an eye on Yuta until everything is finished.” 

Content, he squeezes your hand. As he does so, the gemstone on your ring finger catches the light, mesmerizing you both.

You close your eyes and smile. 

‘Call it intuition,’ huh?

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Tell Her You Love Her 3/4 (Word count 4.5 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

A/N: Finally I can share the rest of this crazy story with you guys! Chapter 4/4 will be posted right after this one. Also if you haven't yet seen @shizukaay0 's amazing fanart for this fic, go take a look, it's steamy!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She wakes up next morning only to find König gone.

The restless night nearly makes her sleep in, and when she notices that the man has left while she was still sleeping, something twists like a blade inside her stomach. She throws the covers off, scours the room with her stare, and notices a note and a small sunflower on the bedside table.

He has left his knife – or one of them – here too. Another gift.

The steel is dark, nearly black; the handle olive green, with sturdy finger grooves and a heavy guard to protect the fingers. The saw-toothed portion on the back of the blade gives the knife a look that most people would probably deem ugly. The blade is wide and ends in a vicious, fat tip that looks sharp enough to puncture flesh without having to apply much pressure.

She doesn't know what a Glock knife looks like, but this is exactly how she sees König: petrifying, big, and brutal. In her eyes, beautiful… Stunning.

The knife juts from the table and holds a note in place although there is no risk of wind to take it off.

Flower for my Engel

I'll see you tonight

The clumsy, hurried message immediately makes her smile. The disturbing thoughts from last evening are only an odd memory – his offerings make her insides glow with warm milk and honey, she feels silly, like summer – and the promise to come to her every night doesn't feel like a threat anymore, it feels… magical, a secret romantic meeting, something wild, something she has always avoided from fear of trying new things.

The floral dress on the floor doesn't appear as evidence of her ruining anymore. It's fairytale-like: that he leaves flowers and knives wherever he goes. The destroyed bra makes her almost giggle. When has a man ever done something like that to her in the heat of passion?

The night feels like another odd dream: König had barely fit to sleep in her bed, and she had barely fit to curl around him. He had slept like a baby, motionless and peaceful, while she woke up every few hours to admire him: to watch the slow pulse between his collarbones barely revealed by the hood and listen to the faint snore that stopped for the smallest moment when she brushed her fingertips over his stomach.

Her muscles ache from lying half on top of him all night. Changing position was out of the question because he held an arm of steel around her all night. Luckily, it prevented her from falling from the bed. But now her muscles were coated with pains of not getting enough sleep while being held in place by a giant for almost 9 hours. Not to talk of the fresh aches born from their activities before getting those precious few winks of sleep…

She goes to work that day with such an everlasting beam that people notice her. She's not entirely sure what has happened, but she is suddenly wildly alive, and blooming.

No one knows about her secret man, her secret, sturdy weapon. No one knows she is the one he comes to every night: the shy, invisible cleaner who has seduced the man whom everyone fears.

And they can keep their boring normalcy and dull decency. She has found something infinitely better.

He's her most precious secret from now on.

He comes to visit her in the break room in the middle of the day, and she's slightly surprised. She thought they would see each other only at night from now on.

She greets him with a smile, and he answers her delight with an amused twinkle in his eyes. He looks far more normal now that the tension is gone. It's suddenly easy to be in his company because they share a secret nobody else knows about.

"Hi… What are you doing here?"

Her shy smiles and the soft whisper should tell him that she doesn't object at all to this sort of intrusion. She might be a little obsessed now too.

"I had to see you," he says as if she's his priority from now on, and her heart feels lighter and lighter. He's equally as lovestruck as she, then.

"You look so beautiful."

She's walking in a dream again: this man calls her beautiful even when she's hidden in her cleaner uniform, stripped from her dresses and flowers and makeup. The only thing she has is her smile, really, but he's not any less adoring. She's being worshiped during her sleepy coffee break, in broad daylight, when she's dressed in dull, grimy working clothes… Who would've thought?

“Thank you,” she gives him another smile, and he moves to her; so close that she has to crane her neck to look up at him.

The kiss that follows is stolen but thoroughly consensual. She disappears inside his hood and smiles on his lips, which are far gentler now. It's a chaste little kiss that happens in darkness and in secret, like everything else between them.

"Will you come to me tonight…?" She asks as if the note wasn't promise enough that he would. He's far too decent, not even groping her this time, and it drives her crazy.

"Nothing could keep me from you," he answers straight into her mouth. His musk and the soap he uses – something breezy and pungent, tea tree, perhaps – surround her much like the hood.

"You can be on top this time. I want to see how you take it–"

"Shh…" She smiles, almost laughs at his libertine whispers. He's smiling, too.

"Don't worry. I'll do the heavy lifting if you're tired."

He retreats, the hood is taken away and her sight is filled with light and decency, but then his hands go around her waist and lift her from the ground. It's like she's flying, floating through the air before he sets her gently on the coffee table.

"Except that you're not heavy at all," he says, voice dark and thick from arousal. He moves to her neck, the hood-coated face roams up and down her throat as he moves to whisper more suggestions in her ear.

"Or you can take it in your mouth… Have you ever had a man in your mouth?"

Something tells her that if she were to say yes, it would deeply upset him. The hair on the back of her neck starts to tingle, and when she doesn't answer him, he continues.

"I could eat you at the same time. Would you like that?"

His voice is darker still, and it makes her bite her lip and grab his arm for support. Even the idea of a 69 with him is dizzying. She can barely breathe from the joy and wanting.

How is she supposed to continue her day when he pops up out of nowhere and talks such sweet filth in her ear?

"König…"

"And after that… We'll fuck until your legs shake."

"Stop," she laughs a hushed giggle in the fabric of his hood. "This is inappropriate…"

"Oh ja. I'm hard again."

Mmh.

"All your fault, Engel."

"You are incurable," she laughs.

"That's what they say."

Perhaps it's a joke, but the word they makes her briefly wonder if he has had this kind of affairs with other women, too. Perhaps she's not so special after all. The image of him fucking other women with abandon breeds a stale, bitter putrefaction in her stomach.

Has he called them angels too…?

Her hands are about his neck, but she has no memory of throwing them there. She wishes she could just dangle from him the rest of the day until he carries her to bed and does all the things he just promised he would do. Let her do all those things to him while he gets to watch – watch how well she can take him, ride him, suck him.

She makes a silent promise to herself and to him that she will be the special girl, no matter the cost.

"Do you want coffee? I just made some," she asks in hopes that he would stay for a little while longer even if he isn't supposed to be here in the social spaces of the maintenance personnel.

"Sure. I would love that."

The man wants his coffee dark, and it only makes her smile as she pours him that minimalistic, unsweetened beverage. She likes his knives dark, his hood dark, his shirts dark… Perhaps she should start wearing black dresses.

"You left your knife in my room."

"For you," he tilts his head a little, wanting to know if she likes his gift. Has he given knives to other women, too, after he's fucked them…?

"Thank you. It's incredible."

"Good combat knife," he nods. "Doesn't reflect light."

If someone was here with them right now, they would probably roll their eyes at how deranged this conversation is. What rotten lunatics they both were.

She’s completely flushed, and smiling like an idiot from receiving a fat, vile knife as a present after having been fucked into oblivion twice last night.

"Well, it reminds me of you."

He looks at her, searching for deceit or ridicule, but there is none.

"That's how you see me..?"

"Mm-hm," she hums with sudden lightness. "Incredible."

His eyes betray the same look he had when he came inside her last night: brief, fragile, naked hope. Her next smile is sadder because obviously, this guy didn't receive compliments often. She's watering a dry desert plant with a single, simple word, and his eyes light up like he's just received years and years worth of good care.

He steps forward and looks like he is finally about to sit at the table. The obsessed look has melted into pure adoration: it's even more knee-buckling than the possessive stare that has followed her for weeks.

One of the maintenance officers arrives to get a cup of coffee in a hurry; a man whose name she doesn't even care to remember, whose world seems to consist mainly of stress. He’s a typical, middle-aged, burned-out man who doesn't appear to remember how to cherish the little things – such as a good cup of coffee – but rushes by everyone and everything and blames them for his stress. She always feels pity for both people and inanimate objects that get to suffer from this man’s exhaustion.

But she doesn't even see him now: all she sees is the fierce operator who is not supposed to be here. The giant who looks at her equally as mesmerized, like everyone else has ceased to exist in this world.

The air is teeming with naked lust and barely contained, sweet hunger, but the poor officer is blind to all of that. A sudden warmth gushes on her chest as the man bumps into her while rushing by with his overfilled coffee mug. She might as well be invisible again, and the hot liquid burns, but it has no power to make her angry or sad.

“Oh–excuse me,” she chirps with a dreamy smile on her face when it’s all his fault that she has coffee all over her shirt.

Before the man gets to the door, König grabs him by the collar and hurls him against the wall. She doesn’t even catch the knife before it plunges inside a round stomach like the worker is merely a balloon to be punctured.

The blade comes away all red, then disappears into the flesh again, and again and again… She loses count after six; the knife sails inside the same hole like he’s fucking the man with the blade. The slick sounds remind her of their intense love-making last night, they taint the passion in the most twisted way.

More hot coffee ends up splashing on her thighs before the sound of a mug smashing into tiny little pieces on the floor tells her that all innocence is lost.

Her gaze is glued to the black and red mush that used to be a polo shirt and a stomach: the man stays upright only because he is not allowed to collapse to the ground. But after a few seconds that seem to last hours, he is shoved to the floor in a sad heap.

She’s still staring at the now dead man when König takes a small step toward her. It occurs to her that both her palms are over her mouth only after she raises her eyes to his, and sees that he had expected some other reaction than this.

Her hands won’t descend; they try to keep all her horror inside, try to reassure her that this is only a dream, she hasn’t woken up yet, and the relief will be immense once she does.

But that never happens.

It’s real, and she would give anything to go only a few minutes back in time where the man was still alive and König was not everything she always feared he was.

He is looking at her with bewildered confusion, then the corner of his eye twitches, just once. He forces the blade back into its sheath without wiping the blood off: a telltale sign that he is more than thrown off balance.

Her horror and disgust escort him out the door in a tornado-like state, and she is left alone with two spilled coffees and a bleeding corpse, wondering who will clean the mess because she cannot for her life do it.

. . . . . .

The shock leaves her body cold and weak as she sits on a bench in the hallway, too distracted to carry on with her day, too afraid to go into her lonely room. It feels safer to remain in a public space, even if people who pass her by look at her with pity and confusion.

She cried her eyes and heart out after the shaking receded. She understands now why shock is such a dangerous state to be in. She always thought it a lie that people could die from shock, but not anymore.

Other people cleaned the mess, after the investigation. How she was able to stay so calm and collected during the questioning is a miracle on its own. What came after was an empty, bleak abyss.

She’s still staring at the floor after the buzzing around her quiets down. Minutes or hours pass by, the work day is over, steps fade away, doors close, people leave.

“Now now… What's the matter here lass?”

It’s the Scottish dude, unbearably benign, and looking like he’s actually caring about why she looks so devastated.

So, the other operators haven’t yet heard.

She doubts if König will receive much more than a scolding for what he did, high-ranked and fiercely dedicated to his work as he is. The man’s simply too valuable to be thrown away. They will just blow enough money to cover this shit right up.

This is not a regular army, and these are not regular people.

Soap sits down next to her, and she doesn’t even mind. At least he’s normal. At least something in this world is still intact, and smiling kindly.

"König did–König did something terrible."

She snobs and snivels, nose clogged and numb, eyes still burning from the tears. Soap looks at her with unadulterated concern, then pity. His brows knit together and he swallows before sighing profoundly.

"Right. What did he do now?"

When she only continues to stare at the floor, Soap raises a hand and starts to rub her back. Rather forcefully, to make it clear that he's not making a pass at her.

“Did he do something to you?”

She shakes her head slowly, because technically, it’s the truth. He didn’t knife her down.

Soap doesn’t ask any further questions. He must know without telling that König has done something bad, something fucking foul even if she hasn't been at the receiving end of it.

"Wanna hear my advice? Just stay away from that guy. Don't talk to him, don't pay attention to him."

The hand on her back stops as he thinks of more advice to give her while her heart grows cold and lonely.

"Just pretend that he doesn't exist."

It’s another punch in the gut to hear that she, the invisible girl, should simply return to her invisibleness and condemn König to nonexistence, too. To cast him out and send him even further into exile. To pretend that he had never been inside her, never brought her gifts.

The hand disappears, but then she feels padded gloves on her chin. She's too tired to flinch, and the hand gently coaxes her to turn her head and look back at the Scottish sunshine.

"Now… Give me a little smile, lass. It can't be that bad."

He’s not flirting with her.

She’s far too plain for Soap.

Or at least, that’s how she feels: unattractive, to men like him. To twinkling brown eyes, a perfect jawline, good jokes and outgoingness… She's had a few admirers but König is the only man who has looked at her like she’s nothing short of a goddess.

Soap, however, is the only one who came to clumsily cheer her up from the slump that witnessing a violent stabfest has sent her in. Everyone else just rushed by with feigned hurry. Every kindness she receives, she usually returns tenfold… But kindness is also a burden. Under the surface, she mainly wants to get rid of Soap; wants just to be left alone. Finally go back to her room and cry herself to sleep.

So she gives him a smile, shy enough to make him believe it’s genuine.

"There we go," he smiles back like an innocent sun, and behind him, in the darkening hallway, she catches the approaching giant: a black hood and under that, a bone-searing blue gaze.

"Wait–wait, wait!"

She darts from the bench, between Soap and him, like her lithe little body is enough to shield John MacTavish from a murderous titan.

If a man who spills coffee on her deserves to be stabbed more than a dozen times, what will happen to a man who has dared to touch her and make her smile?

"Don't,” her hand meets the steel of König's chest, and the blood drunk Goliath actually stops.

“Don’t, König, please."

The ice-cold gaze drops to her, and there’s such a range of emotion behind those blues that she has a hard time catching even half of the storm raging inside her maniac.

Soap rises from the bench behind her: the rustle of clothes and the squeak of gear tell her as much.

"Caught the girl crying,” he says with poorly disguised trepidation in his voice. “Now I don't know what you have done but maybe you should apologize."

Soap’s bravery is admirable. The flash of rage that is sent behind her could scald flesh from bones.

She presses herself against König, hugs his middle, tries to guide his attention elsewhere.

Just let the him go, please, no more…

Soap could perhaps defend himself for a while, but she doubts if the Austrian war machine would stop even when he’s shot full of holes.

Gargantuan arms go around her like a cage: she’s his, and forever will be. The true cost of being cast out from heaven is heavier than she had ever imagined; the tears that arise are born from a deeper trauma than that of witnessing a homicide in her quiet little break room.

. . . . .

König waits as she goes to have a shower. He follows her like a dark cloud as she goes to throw her work clothes, stained with coffee and the memory of blood, to the washing machine. He waits with statuelike composure as she finally sits on her bed, hair still dripping wet and leaving damp stains on her cute little white dress.

Wearing white seems like an abomination right now.

"I told you I don't want you to hurt people," she says quietly while watching how the water gathers at the tip of the strings of hair and tip-tip-tips on her dress and hands.

The man says nothing to defend himself. All the rage and fury is gone, his shoulders are tense, high up in the sky, almost in his ears. He’s shielding himself, and it makes her confused – clearly, he feels empathy, so why is he like… like this?

"I don't think you understand,” she swallows, heart beating more calmly now. He’s not going to plunge a knife in her, that much is certain. But still…

"I'm afraid of you."

She raises her stare: a powerful accusation, a woman's weapon. His head pulls back – he's surprised at this newfound nerve.

"I'm afraid of you, König," she emphasizes, much louder now. The declaration rings so true that it leaves her breathless and free, even powerful.

He, on the other hand, is a paralyzed beast. A golem stripped of the magical word that makes him a soulless robot. His eyes betray fear of loss for the first time, real, actual fear. He steps toward her, and when she doesn’t stop him, walks slowly to where she’s sitting.

He falls to one knee, slowly, so slowly – like she's a bird about to fly off. It pulls at her heart, it rattles the cage of her ribs. The frigid padding of his gloves touch her cheek, and she surrenders an inch or two. Maybe more than that.

She doesn’t know who lifts the mask, he or she, but her lips meet his desperate ones under all that black.

"I'm afraid of you…"

She whispers it on his lips, in his mouth, although she’s not afraid anymore. She’s pissed, and somewhat in love, and addled, shaken, ruffled to her core.

The kiss turns into a hungry one when he notices she’s not meaning what she says. Before long, she's on her knees too, and he's devouring her until she finds herself in his arms, being gently set on the floor. A trembling hand disappears under the hem of her dress, and the fabric comes up with it as he travels up her thigh.

But the only thing that’s wet right now is her hair, everything else is parched dry, locked up, sealed like the tomb of Tutankhamun, and there are curses in store for the one who will try to enter with force. Hell, even with a trembling, delicate hand.

And it’s not because she can’t get aroused – she could, in mere minutes with him – but because she’s not wet at the very instant he’s in her presence, that makes her grab the hand currently trying to get some solace from her.

"No."

He stops but doesn’t move that hand away. He’s panting in her mouth: needy, and in a whirlpool of despair. The only thing that can make him feel better is her wetness, which she cannot provide him.

The hand probes; it forces its way up just an inch.

"No."

She's relentless, and he finally draws his hand away, only to place it hesitantly and with an immense amount of grief, on her waist. She feels tiny under that giant palm.

"I'm not your plaything," she whispers, even finds the courage to shoot a tiny glare his way.

The hand does not apply pressure. If anything, it grows lighter and lighter with the fear of scaring her away.

"I made a mistake, Engel," he breathes. "You're not a toy."

Her eyes must betray both her hurt and longing because the man ups the stakes immediately.

"I'll give you anything you want," he tries: so desperately, so seriously that it sounds quite ridiculous.

"Can you just go," she whispers while a tear or two push out from the corner of her eyes. They’re hot as hell because they’re born of odd love.

"Engel–"

"Just leave."

The fingers on her waist curl, they grab her dainty little dress like it’s his only gateway to heaven. He releases the fabric soon enough, then grabs it again and lets out an agonizing sound.

Just go, go, please just leave me be…

She wants him to understand that there are consequences to his actions, and at the same time, she wants him to just hold her, to fix everything and fix her. It doesn't take the bitter taste of betrayal off her tongue to realize that she always knew what he was. She knew.

He rises to his feet, paces around a few times, more and more confused, distressed like a tortured animal. She sniffs and curls into a fetal position, hoping that he would just leave, and at the same time, hoping that he would brush off her demands and just hug her.

"I can't," he finally wails as if he can hear even her thoughts. "You're crying…”

It breaks her heart into million pieces – how can the same man stress and fuss about her tears when just hours ago, he had murdered some innocent man in cold blood?

He comes to the heap of her again, falls to his knees, then caresses her arm so softly that at first she thinks she’s just imagining the touch.

"Little angel," he tries.

Her following sob is like that of a child's. Why does he have to be so perfect and at the same time, such a–

"I know that I'm a monster."

Her eyes want to fly wide open, but she keeps them shut. He's self-aware, so much so that it hurts. He pets her more neurotically now; it's almost as if he's comforting himself and not her.

"Don't send me away," he begs, then curls behind her in an awkward spooning, holds and rocks her gently as she cries some more. After the catharsis that lasts for good long minutes, he gathers her like a doll in his arms and carries her to the bed so she doesn't have to lie on the cold, hard floor.

"I'll make it better," he says again and again as he caresses her and strokes her hair, "I promise I'll make it better…"

“Just go,” she cuts him off with a whisper.

He leaves eventually, after some more pacing and a few sighs, and she understands that he actually cared for her all this time: otherwise, he would've just taken what he wanted.

She slips into a dream, a soft oblivion where everything is well and summer is at its peak. They hold hands and stroll through the freshly cut grass, birds are singing, and he has no mask.

Taglist:

@ghostinvenus @konigsleftkidney @stillinracooncity @valenspuppy @koionthewalls

[alice-after-dark]

Vox as an Abuse Victim

So here is that massive Vox post I promised, a day late for...reasons. I swear I have been working on this post for days, even before that StaticMoth discourse influx in my inbox.

After making my post about Vox and Angel and reading @deeply-unserious-fellow's post about a similar topic, I thought it might be finally time to make this post. Most people who have seen my content know how I typically portray StaticMoth. I have mixed feelings about Valentino at the best of times and outright dislike him at the worst. But frankly this post isn't actually about him (well, mostly). It's about Vox and why I am really hoping that Viv keeps the angle of Vox being an abuse victim.

TW for domestic abuse, physical violence, implied sexual abuse, abusive relationships, gaslighting/victim-blaming, and other canon-typical triggers. Contain abusive StaticMoth.

Honestly? The primary reason I hope she keeps it is because it would make him an even more complex character and bring attention to a criminally underrepresented group: abuse victims who are also bad people.

As pointed out in the post I tagged above, the world has become obsessed with this idea of a "palatable" victim, the poor suffering cinnamon roll. An abuse victim is expected to look like a victim. You're supposed to instantly feel sorry for them and want to protect them...but that's not so easy when the victim is someone who also hurts people, is it? It's not so easy to pretend they didn't do bad things too...but they are still a victim. That does not change just because they are a bad person. And thus it becomes complicated and interesting. Because it's not so easy to root for the victim when they're also victimizing others, especially when those others are people we care about...like Angel Dust. At the bare minimum, Vox is doing nothing to stop Valentino from abusing Angel or any of his other employees. Having Vox be a victim of the same abuse that Angel Dust suffers (at the hands of the same abuser no less) and yet also being someone who enables Angel's abuse creates a very complicated situation.

In a most media, the discovery of a mean/bad person being abused is frequently portrayed in a "well, they were abused so you can't be mad at them anymore" kind of light. Like "see? They're just an asshole because they were being abused! Now that we know, they're suddenly a good person!" Except that's not how it works. Someone can be a bad person and also be a victim. And even if them being an asshole was the result of their abuse, those behaviors and the consequences of those behaviors don't just vanish. They still hurt people and frankly I would riot if it came out that Vox was being abused by Valentino and then everyone in the show just up and forgave him for being an asshole. Like...no? He would still need to make up for his own shit and actually work towards being a better person. I like this character because he's an unapologetic asshole. If making him a victim takes that away, then that would be such a missed opportunity.

In fact, one thing I find interesting is that I definitely believe that Vox would have no problem admitting to being a bad person, but would rather fight an exorcist alone than admit to being a victim. His ego won't allow for it. He would probably laugh in your face and call you delusional while literally having a broken screen. Because he can't admit it, even to himself. He would see it as a sign of weakness and that's not acceptable to him (side note that being a victim does not make you weak, that's just what Vox's toxic mindset tells him). While I am fairly certain that he would have moved on from most 1950s mindsets since he is all about the future and progress and moving forward, toxic masculinity is still very much a thing today and I can definitely see him embodying it in some aspects, like needing to appear strong and in control at all times (and Hell's power hierarchy definitely encourages this mindset, so...). Fuck, even now in fucking 2024, men still have a hard time being taken seriously as the victims of abuse. Unless of course you fit a certain mold.

Angel Dust is the perfect example of this. He is a palatable male victim. He's effeminate, he's funny, he's friendly, he's caring, and we actively see him miserable in his suffering. Despite being in Hell just like the rest of them and having been a former mafia member and clearly able to stand on his own two feet it combat, his victimhood is constantly on display and the audience wants to protect and save him. On the opposite end, Vox is shown in a position of power that is constantly reinforced. He's an Overlord, he's manipulative, he's cruel, he's greedy, and he enables abusive behavior from others. He is not a palatable victim, which is why it's perfect.

Now let's get into what I believe is the actual evidence that this dynamic could still be present.

Something I see people commonly say is that Vox being abused by Valentino doesn't make sense because why wouldn't Vox just fight back? He could just shock Valentino into next Tuesday? And to these people I kindly say fuck you. Because while physical strength can be a factor in abuse, it is very rarely the thing that keeps the victim from leaving. Abuse, even when physical, is heavily psychological. It's like telling a victim "well, why didn't you just leave?" It's not that easy. Abusers tend to target those with low self-esteem and it's made pretty clear that Vox is a very insecure person (I feel the need to point out that having an ego and having high self-esteem are not the same thing, in fact having a big ego is typically a side effect of very low self-esteem). It's entirely possible that Vox makes the conscious decision not to fight back because he's afraid of what will happen if he does. He's afraid Valentino will leave. We know Valentino is just as mentally and emotionally abusive to those around him as he is physically abusive and we have actively witnessed him playing into Vox's insecurities and mentally messing with him (specifically in the events leading up to "Stayed Gone").

So let's talk about the scene leading up to "Stayed Gone," because I also see Vox's behavior towards Valentino here used as justification for why it's not possible for Valentino to be abusing Vox. Full disclosure, I myself in the past have even thought that it demonstrated them being mutually abusive towards each other, but have since changed my opinion after reading more takes and doing further analysis. Having rewatched this scene many times now, I have some observations.

There's a small moment that always caught my attention when I watched this scene because I wasn't sure what it meant, but looking at it in the context of this post, I think I can see a possibility. When Vox goes to see Valentino, he approaches the doors and they are opened for him by Valentino's servants. Vox pauses in the doorway, glances at them, then continues on inside.

What was the point of this moment? It seems out of place. Surely Vox has gone to Valentino's room before? Surely this door opening thing isn't new? And looking at Vox's face here, he looks...concerned? Like...they might hear what goes on inside? And he maintains that expression even as he enters the room, like he doesn't like that those two are out there and might hear them.

It also makes the entire situation feel so routine. Like Valentino is upset and these girls just expect Vox to show up and take care of it. And the scenes prior to this also sets it up as a normal occurrence. Vox rearranges his entire schedule to deal with Valentino, like he absolutely expects this situation could take up the rest of his day. And Valentino clearly doesn't listen to Velvette in this regard as she had to call Vox to come deal with Valentino despite him wrecking her department. Her comment even further establishes this as normal when she tells Vox that Valentino is "up in his tower, waiting for a flat-faced prince to calm him down." And when Vox arrives? "FUCKING FINALLY!" All of this sets up a standard situation: when Valentino is upset, it is Vox's job to calm him down and make him feel better. Valentino is a full grown adult and yet he has made it someone else's problem to manage his emotions.

Then of course we have the classic moment of Valentino literally throwing his glass at Vox only seconds after Vox has arrived. And this has to have been a conscious decision, because right before that, he throws his first glass on the ground before demanding another. So if he wanted to just break something, he didn't need to throw it at Vox, but he did. And I definitely don't think he cared if Vox got out of the way or not. But how easily Vox moves aside tells us that he fully expected to have things thrown at him and was ready for it. Now, I do believe that Valentino would throw shit at literally anyone when he is mad, but the key here is that Vox, his supposed friend, on-and-off lover, and business partner, is not exempt from this behavior. He even breaks Vox's phone when he realizes Vox is not paying attention to him. He has no qualms breaking Vox's property just to soothe his rage (I would also like to point out that he fucking obliterated that thing; just how hard did he fucking throw it?!).

Something in this scene that did initially throw me as I was writing this is that Vox doesn't seem particularly afraid of Valentino. Not the way we see Angel is when Valentino gets angry. We also see him actively get angry with Valentino, get in his face, and manipulate him. In the past, I believed this behavior from Vox to have established their relationship as mutually abusive. However, after reading yet another post from @deeply-unserious-fellow, I realized that everything Vox does here is only in direct response to Valentino's tantrum.

So let's go through some things here. When Vox initially tries to tell Valentino he can't go to the hotel, Valentino straight up ignores him. Does not respond to Vox's words, completely carries on like he didn't even speak. From this point on, Vox takes an entirely different approach to the situation. He manipulates Valentino into thinking that not shooting up the hotel is his idea and even offers further appeasement in the form of shooting his own employees as a method to satisfy Valentino's temper. I admit to initially viewing this as Vox being abusive, but frankly, when your options are being manipulative or letting your business partner go shoot up a hotel that houses the literal Princess of Hell, yeah, I'd take the manipulation route. Because, as I pointed out above, Vox cannot actually control Valentino. He tries to give him an order and is completely ignored. And even when he does successfully manipulate him, he still has to appease him in some capacity.

Now, there's also something here that is often played for shits and giggles, but I'm taking it 100% seriously right now. Many people point out that Vox's screen gets brighter when he gets in Valentino's face. Valentino is a moth demon and after Vox does this, he seems to be dazed for a moment, enough for Vox to rapidly switch back into manipulator mode and does his thing. It seems to have snapped Valentino out of his rage and I literally can't help but think that Vox has learned this as a defense mechanism. Valentino can't see very well, so it's very likely Vox's hypnotism doesn't work on him, so Vox had to find other ways of manipulating him and calming him down when he's in one of his rages.

Something I also want to point out is that it is made very clear through a single solitary moment that Valentino is in no way afraid of Vox. When he tells Vox about Alastor, Vox screams in his face, manhandles him, and Valentino just...pushes him off and saunters away, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. He doesn't even look upset or concerned when Vox grabs him. He just...laughs it off...like he knows Vox won't actually hurt him. Because I genuinely think Vox won't. Later in the episode, we hear Valentino's voicemails to Angel Dust and how he's emotionally manipulating him, telling him he can't really get better. I wouldn't be surprised to find that he's given Vox a similar treatment, especially considering that it's obvious Valentino knew what kind of reaction he would get out of Vox by bringing up Alastor. And sure, he brushes it off with a kink joke, but in all seriousness, why did Valentino keep Alastor's return from Vox? We know Angel has been at the hotel for a little while and Alastor has been involved with it as of a week prior to the beginning of season 1, so why suddenly bring it up? It's almost like he was specifically holding onto this information, waiting for the perfect time to use it that would be the most beneficial to him.

There's also another little scene that always caught my attention. It's when Valentino is getting pissed about the shadow construct that Angel Dust is flirting with.

Valentino starts getting pissy again, demands Vox's attention, gets annoyed when he doesn't get it, then immediately switches to mocking and confident when Vox starts bitching about Alastor. Like...he's so fucking proud of himself for getting Vox all worked up over Alastor. Like it's some kind of game for him. Riling Vox up and messing with his emotions is fun for Valentino. Alastor dredges up some real shit for Vox and Valentino exploits it. And from here on, he just keeps egging him on. Now, I'm pretty sure "Stayed Gone" would have happened with or without Valentino, but the point here is that he is definitely playing with Vox's emotions here.

As for the not being afraid aspect, again, Valentino hasn't actually threatened him with something that truly scares him. I don't think he's afraid of what Valentino could physically do to him. It's more likely to make him mad than anything else, even if he doesn't fight back (he'll probably go take out his anger on someone else). The thing about Vox is that we see that he does not like to appear weak in any capacity and I think this extends well into his own psyche. If he admits, even to himself, that he's a victim...to him, that's admitting weakness and he just can't do that. So Valentino's not abusing him, they just had a fight. He didn't hit back because he's in control of himself and he knows he could totally toast Valentino. It's Vox's own fault for pushing his buttons when he knew Valentino was mad. It wasn't rape cause he never said "no".

TLDR: Vox can be both an asshole and an abuse victim and it would be a really interesting aspect to his character as long as the show does it right and doesn't scrap his assholeness to make him a more palatable victim. Show him being a victim and also victimizing others. Show him not wanting to accept that he has been abused. LET PEOPLE BE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH FEELING SORRY FOR HIM.

(that's all for now, I have literally been working on this post for days and I'm exhausted)

[llilyrose]

llilyrose spends her time analyzing aroace stuff. yay.

isat spoilers afoot

what i especially like about the way adrienne wrote mira's orientation is the lack of room for interpretation. yes they snuck aroace talk into fantasy france, but just stop and think for a minute. what would happen if mira just said "i'm aroace" or "i don't feel love the same way" instead of all the nuance we got to her character in the friend quest convo?

we know she's sex repulsed, we know she's romance repulsed. we know she loves fiction that has those things in it, loves interpreting fictional characters that way, but can't bare to see herself in that situation. it makes a lot of sense with regards to her location (vaugarde, a very sex-positive and romance-adamant country) and also with regards to herself (the way she feels about her environment). Of course she wouldn't blame other folk around her for engaging with their religion the "correct" way, of course she'd internalize all her feelings of being outcast and turn it back on herself.

The fandom respects this! Nobody ships her romantically, or sexually, because we know she's not into that. We know she would never and i know a bunch of people who would punch you for even thinking it!

Now what if Adrienne hadn't put this in the game? What if they had just said on their tumblr one day, "mira's aroace," or something. where would we be now? aspec shipping discourse would definitely take the reins. we'd have people shipping her in all kinds of different ways, bending the aroace character to the best of their ability because they could still be into sex, or romance, or whatever. this is TRUE, it's POSSIBLE, but there's no nuance. We wouldn't know the way Mira really feels about these things unless Adrienne told us, so a lot of people would either ignore/"work around" her identity or just wouldn't even know about it to begin with!

Introducing mira's orientation in the way adrienne did leaves no room for discourse. we know if she's sex-positive, sex-negative, how she reacted to finding out she was, etc. It provides so much more representation than a simple "I'm aroace" ever could. It's such a wide label, so finally having CONCRETE information about a canonical aroace's experiences with their orientation is so, so freeing and honestly quite refreshing. and it's worked into the story seamlessly!!!

She's not an emotionless carcass with no capacity for love, she's not outwardly detesting sex or romance at every possible moment, she's simply a well-rounded character who happens to be aroace. You have time to warm up to her before ever even finding out about her orientation! Or having any clue at all (barring maybe the suspicious sketches)!!!!! Aroace people are real!!! We're so real!!!!

Speaking of the suspicious sketches! We know siffrin's alloace (from, like, one line of dialogue), but we don't know if he's sex-repulsed. Adrienne's gone on record to say "aces can still have sex" in reference to siffrin, so I'm inclined to believe he has at least some sort of libido.

When looking at the sketches, both him and mira have a repulsed reaction. I think there are three possible reasons for Siffrin here!

Siffrin is sex-repulsed and has a visceral reaction to them because he thinks it's gross.

Siffrin has no libido because the stress overrides everything in his system. That combined with his ace identity would probably lead to a distaste for the papers.

Some people would NOT GET THE MEMO from the act 3 friendquest. Sometimes when you're writing you have to account for the gamers being really really dense. Some people didn't even understand the Isa friendquest was him coming out as trans basically. Since Ace characters are hard to "prove" unless they explicitly state they dislike sex, this line of dialogue might've just been there to drill it in that Siffrin is ace because the only other place we see that implication is one line in the friendquest. It could even have no tie to his relationship with sex, who knows?

one of these options is not like the others! /silly

I couldn't tell you which one of those it is, but i think at least one of them had to have hit the mark. It's a lot harder to decode siffrin's sexuality when we only get like 5 lines of dialogue total that vaguely even reference it

With this we come back to the issue from earlier: He could be demi, he could be ace, he could be sex-repulsed, he could not! Most people write them sex-repulsed and I'm personally on that bandwagon, but interpreting them a different way isn't any less correct unless you completely ignore the fact they're ace in the first place.

Even sex-positive aces have complicated relationships with sex. Some do it for the gratification, some simply have higher libido and can't think of a different way to get it out, and others only do it to please their partner.

I think writing an ace character as sex-positive should be seen as a character study instead of an excuse to ship two characters together. Is this character the type to even enjoy it in the first place? How often? How do they interact with it? Etc. Which I think is what Adrienne was talking about when she said "aces can still have sex." We don't know about siffrin's identity, we don't have a grasp on the nuance, but we do know he's ace and that he experiences love differently from the way mirabelle does, and the way isabeau does, and the way odile does, and what have you.

I love love love the representation we get in isat. An aroace, an alloace, and someone that a lot of fans headcanon as aroallo though it's unconfirmed. Even if Odile's not aro, we still get that line of dialogue about not finding romance suitable for her at the moment, which speaks true to a different experience altogether. No two characters experience love, experience life the same in isat. That's why i get to make a tumblr text post that's a bit too long exploring the different avenues adrienne took when writing the characters lol :')

[kkyaka]

Summary: Shinsou Hitoshi, a vigilante with the goal of exposing the corruption of the hero world, meets you, and that causes tornado of events that spins your life around

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x black!fem!reader

Word Count: 27, 459 (i'm so sorry)

Warnings: vigilante!shinsou, stripper!reader, miruko is reader's boss, reader's followed by a man briefly in the beginning, some innuendos, reader's quirk is half and half, kind of a slow burn if you squint, mentions of shindou x reader, lot of sexual tension in the beginning between reader and shinsou, mentions of blood and injuries, reader's father is a pro hero but didn't treat her or her mother well, lots of kissing, strip tease, usage of weed, orgasms under the influence of weed, so much smut LMFAO, shinsou gets hit with an aphrodisiac (everything is consensual), groping, fingering (f), oral (f + m), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, unprotected sex, grinding, 69ing, reader has a confrontation with her father, shinsou knocks out reader's father, shinsou's really big and hairy LMFAO, little bit of an argument between shindou and reader, deku makes and appearance, bakusquad works with shinsou, canon divergent kinda (takes place after the Paranormal Liberation Arc), mentions of things being blown up, lots of angst at the end with a happy ending (*sighs* i think that's it, if I missed anything let me know!)

A/N: Another long one boys, so sorry about that. Another favorite of mine lmfao, and I was also ridiculously horny while I was writing this LMFAO, so yeah. Thank you for reading if you can make it through this long ass fic, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

You yawn loudly as you step out of the building, shoving your hands in your jacket pockets as you walk. You finished later than you wanted, but money needs to be made, so you're leaving a little after two in the morning. The moon and streetlights allows for enough light so that you can see pretty far ahead of you. You wonder if you should hit up the convenience store on your way home for some food, and you briefly falter when you hear footsteps behind you.

You roll your eyes, wondering why this night, in particular, might be the one where you're fighting for your life. You don't let the person behind you know that you've heard them, but you need to figure out what to do quickly because you don't want to lead them to your house. It's practically a straight shot from where you work, but you don't want to risk them following you home another night.

An alley's coming up, and you hope that you can catch the person off-guard. You can hear their footsteps speed up once you make it about halfway down the alley and right as they try to break out into a sprint toward you, you quickly turn around, activating your quirk out of your hands. The force throws them against the wall, and you immediately harden it, keeping them against the wall.

You groan loudly in annoyance when you finally see who it is even though their face is just barely lit by the streetlight. "We've told you about this, Kenji," you sigh. You know this man all too well, and the fact that you've caught him again makes you sick. He has a history of harassing the women that you work with, even following them home. Mirko is very aware of his behavior, at first banning him from any private shows, but then she quickly banned him altogether.

Of course, that didn't seem to stop him, but there was only so much she could do. You've always been able to stop him, but some of your friends don't have the best luck, so they always go home together. "You know I don't mean any harm," he tries, but you don't believe his bullshit.

"I'm not fucking stupid. You're following me home, you fucking creep." You grab your phone, wondering if you should even try and call for someone to get him. Once most of them figure out what you do for work, the judgmental looks start, and they become either less willing to help or more willing for a price. It's a lose-lose, and you're about to just walk away when you hear something hit the ground right next to you.

You lift your arms up, getting ready to shoot them as well, but something's wrapped around your arms before you can even shoot. They're suddenly tied together, and you struggle against the restraints. "Relax, sweetheart. I'm not gonna hurt you."

You don't back down right away, only calming down as he slowly walks toward you. He immediately lets go of your arms, pulling the wraps back to him, and you can see they're sitting around his neck. "Can I help you?" you wonder. You can only see his eyes, his head covered with a hood and his face covered with some mask.

"It seemed like this guy was bothering you." You raise an eyebrow at him. "But you clearly have everything under control."

"So, why are you here?" you question, putting your hand on your hip. "Matter of fact, where did you come from?"

"I can take care of him for you," he says, ignoring your question as he steps toward you. You back up a little, and he's gently pushing you out of the alley. "How am I supposed to get him out of this?" You squint at him, but release the guy from the wall, the material turning into a kind of liquid.

Kenji tries to run for you, but the mystery man wraps him up before he can even get away from the wall. "Give me a second yeah?" he tells you, and he throws him over his shoulder before he scales the side of the wall, disappearing into the dark roof.

You stand there, looking at the now empty alley for a couple of seconds before you shake your head, throwing your hands up. You just want to go home. You're too tired for any of this. You continue your journey home, not even wanting to process the events that just happened until you're home in your bed.

"You're still going to try and walk home alone?" You hear the familiar voice, but it's definitely not coming from in front or behind you. You look around before you look up, seeing him crouching on the corner of the top of a building. He jumps down once you locate him, stopping in front of you, and now that you're back on the street, you can see the color of his eyes.

"I've dealt with him before, and I can handle myself." You continue walking, and he falls into step right next to you. "He'll probably be back anyway."

"You don't have to worry about him anymore."

You look over him as you walk. "And how are you so confident in that?"

"Trust me. He won't be bothering you anymore."

"You're telling me to trust a stranger?" you jest, and even though you can't see the lower half of his face, the way the skin around his eyes crinkle tells you that he's got some version of a smile on his face.

"You can trust this stranger," he counters, placing his hand on his chest.

"So, what brings you out here at this time of night, stranger?" you ask playfully.

"It's a secret," he answers, lowering his voice a little as he leans down to talk to you. "But I could be asking you the same thing," he continues as he stands straight up again.

"I'm getting off work, and don't bother asking what I do," you immediately add, not wanting to go through that conversation right now.

"Noted," he says. "Where you headed?" he asks after the both of you are silent after a while.

"Heading home." You look ahead before you look at him. "How do I know you're not a threat or something?"

"Wouldn't I have done something already if I was?"

"Maybe you're trying to see where I live, or maybe you're just trying to get my guard down," you claim, and he stops walking when you do. "And I don't trust you enough to show you where I live."

"Until next time then."

"What makes you so sure there'll be a next time?" He just gives you a shrug before he starts walking the opposite way, backtracking. You watch him until he disappears, and you shake your head again before you start walking to your apartment.

"So, he walked you home? Was he really attractive?" You shake your head as you laugh, finishing up your makeup. Amina was one of the first people you met here, and she's been your best friend ever since. You both come from a similar childhood, so it's nice to have someone that can understand what you've gone through.

"I couldn't even see his face," you say. "And he didn't walk me to my door exactly. He might've helped me, but I wasn't gonna let him see where I live."

"And what about that creep? Is he really not gonna bother us anymore?"

"Dunno," you answer with a shrug. "I guess we'll just have to see."

The night goes smoothly without any hitches, and it starts to feel monotonous after a while. You've been doing this for a couple of years, and sometimes you want to divert on a different path, but there's a part of you that likes the repetition. It gives you a sense of security that you know what you're going to do throughout the day.

Honestly, you never really had an idea of what you wanted to do when you grew up because your father already had a path made for you before you were even born. It didn't take you long to see how corrupt the hero society actually was, especially since you were at the hands of it at such an early age. Your dad didn't treat you or your mother right, and she ended up leaving once she could.

You knew that she would've taken you with her if she could, but you don't blame her for getting out of there as soon as possible. Your dad ran you into the ground with training day after day, trying to solidify your abilities to use your quirk. The entire time though, you were plotting how you were going to escape from this. Once you finally turned eighteen, you just left. You were still in contact with your mother, but you didn't tell her that you were leaving so suddenly.

She wasn't anywhere near home anymore, so there was no way she could come get you. You were couch hopping for a couple of years, some of your friends had their own places you could crash at, and you worked odd jobs here and there. But that couldn't last long, and Mirko was suddenly picking you up before you could end up on the wrong side of the street.

She gave you work and a place to call home, which took you a little bit to get used to, but the friendships you created made it so much smoother. Your dad had been looking for you for a while, but then you never heard anything from him again. With him being in the top twenty pro-heroes, you always heard about him on TV or in the news, but you didn't think twice about it. He went on pretending that you didn't exist, treating you like a mistake since you didn't become the hero that he wanted you to be.

This obviously isn't where you saw yourself, but it gives you a powerful feeling that you didn't have when you were still with your dad. And your apartment is actually a really nice set-up, and you're making money. If anything, you're glad that Mirko found you when she did, and she also goes to lengths to make sure you and your friends are protected at work as well.

Private shows are always a little unsettling especially when the person is treading the line of being weird or off-putting. With your quirk, you could try and stop a situation from escalating, but if you're not fast enough, it could do from bad to worse in a second. There are no cameras in the rooms, but you all wear a necklace that detects sudden movements or if your heart rate begins to rise suddenly, and if you can manage, there's a button on it that immediately alerts the bouncers if there's something wrong.

Sadly, all of you have had to use it on more than one occasion, but you know that you'll never see that person again and that they won't harm any of you again. You all usually get breaks for as long as you want if something like that does happen and even if it doesn't. If you just need a break, Mirko is always understanding, and you've taken them on more than one occasion, especially when you first started working.

You finish the night with ease, and you decide to shower in your dressing room before you head home. You stuff all of your tips in your bag once you're done and dressed, checking in with Mirko before you head out of the back door. "You sure you don't want me to walk you home?" Shindou asks once you step outside.

You shake your head as you chuckle. "I'm sure. I can handle myself, I promise."

"Let me know when you get home, okay?" he relents, and you give him a nod before you walk off.

The walk isn't long, but you still check your surroundings as you walk, making sure you're keeping track of everything you're hearing. It doesn't take you long to feel like you're being watched, and you finally stop walking, looking up and turning in a circle as you look in the direction of the rooftops.

Something falls behind you, and you lazily turn around. "This kinda feels like stalking," you muse, letting your head fall to the side as the mystery man walks closer to you.

"I'm just making sure nothing happens to you on the way home," he replies with an easy shrug, and you turn around to continue towards your apartment as he walks with you.

"Really? You sure you don't have any ulterior motives?"

"Even if I said I didn't, you probably still wouldn't believe me." You look over him, realizing that his shoulders are no longer covered, and it really shows you how big he is.

"What happened to your...?" you trail off, circling your finger around his neck and chest area.

"I don't need it tonight." He holds out his hands. "Wanted to show you that I really mean you no harm."

You hum, squinting a bit before you ask him another question. "So, what's your deal? You trying be like that vigilante dude or something?" He laughs loudly at that, and you can't help but smile at the sound.

"I'm actually really good friends with him. I help him out sometimes."

"Really now? So, what's he like?"

"Some people that work with him thinks he's too laid back, and kind of an asshole."

You snort. "I can't say I'm surprised. My friend would be happy though, she's always going for the assholes."

"He's got a fanbase, huh?"

"I think the mask concealing his identity is what's really doing people in."

"Does the mask do something for you?" he asks, and the both of you stop walking, turning to face each other. You hear a hint of curiosity in his voice as you look into his eyes, the only thing beside his forehead that isn't covered. You stare at him for a bit, and he doesn't look away, his gaze strong.

"I'm honestly more interested in the guy behind it."

"Yeah?" You nod quickly, biting your lip to conceal your smile before you continue walking. You giggle a bit as you look over your shoulder since he hasn't started walking and before you can even turn your head back, you can hear his footsteps gaining on you.

Neither of you pick up the conversation after that, but the silence is filled with a certain kind of tension that quickly appears. It's not too long until you reach your place, and you stop in front of your building, spinning on your heel to face him. He looks over the building before he looks down at you, pointing towards it.

"Didn't take you long to show this stranger where you live," he jests, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Well," you hum, shrugging your shoulders. "You're defenseless this time, and I'm pretty confident I can take you."

"In a fight, or...?" You can tell he's wearing a smug smile on his face even though you can't even see it.

You him softly, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. "What're you trying to say, stranger?" you question, stepping closer to him as you cross your arms.

"Nothing," he responds. "I'm just clarifying."

"Really?" you hum. You walk backward towards your building, and he stays right there, watching you walk towards the door. "Third floor. Three twenty-one," you tell him before you open the door. "See ya around."

You haven't seen the mystery man in a while, and you're not really surprised since you've been watching the news. No one knows a lot about the vigilante because he's so good at covering his tracks. Some people speculate that he's working with other people; you don't really care to know, but you do know that he's making the pro-heroes nervous.

His specialty is exposing the heroes that are corrupt. He's somehow able to get access to things that gives him so much power. He's stated before that he wants to show people how corrupt the hero society is, and you have nothing bad to say about that because you know how corrupt it is, and what it can do to people. You and your mother have seen it first hand.

You shake off those thoughts as you walk home. Even though you can walk home by yourself, you find yourself wondering if he'll jump down from a building or magically appear next to you. You try to tell yourself that you are not disappointed that you didn't see him. You walk into your apartment, deciding to watch your favorite show to unwind and get him off your mind.

You throw your keys on the counter before turning one of your lamps on, and you nearly scream when you see a familiar face laying in the middle of your floor. "Can I help you?" you ask, walking over to him, and your face falls when you see him holding his side. Once you get to him, you realize he's bleeding, and you're quick to crouch down to him.

"Sorry, I didn't come sooner," he tries to joke, but when he laughs, he winces.

"What the hell happened? Why didn't you go to a fucking doctor?" you ask, pulling his hand away to look at the damage.

"It's not that bad," he tells you, and at least he's right about that. You sigh when you see that it just looks like a graze that cut just a little too deep. "Got into it with someone who was not happy that their secrets were out."

"Yeah, I saw that on the news," you say as you stand to get some things to clean his wounds. "Also, if there's blood on the floor, you're cleaning it up!" you shout from the bathroom, and he winces as he sits up to shed his shirt.

"Sure thing," he answers after laying back down and closing his eyes as he listens to you rummaging in the bathroom. He slowly opens his eyes when he hears you walking back to him, and you sit down on the floor with everything you need. He winces as you clean the wound before treating it and neither of says a word. You're mostly not talking because you're trying so hard not to focus on how ripped he is. You didn't expect him to be so hairy.

Your eyes gloss over the plane of abs he has, and you try not to let your hands linger too long on his skin. He's got tattoos covering his arms, and you look over them as you clean his wounds, but you don't ask about them. When you're done, you activate your quirk, putting a little on the wound, and he lifts his head to see what you're doing.

"What's this for?"

"It'll speed up the healing process," you inform, holding your hand out to help him sit up. He groans in pain as he lifts himself up.

"A healing quirk, huh? And you asked me why I didn't go to a hospital," he muses.

"Yeah, yeah. Just keep an eye on it," you tell him before you gather everything and bring it back to the bathroom.

"So, you can heal and trap people against the wall?" he asks, referencing when you first met. You sit down on the couch, and he follows suit, leaving a cushion in between the two of you.

"Basically," you sigh. "I don't really have a term for the material that I can make, but I can harden it and loosen it as much as it wants. I just have to be careful because I can also poison people as well." You smirk when you see him tense, and a laugh bubbles out of your chest. "Don't worry. I have to have really, really bad thoughts about the person for that to happen. So, you're in the clear."

He rests his back against the couch, letting his head fall back, sighing heavily. You don't say anything, but you keep your eyes on him, having a bunch of questions running through your mind. "I know you got questions, so ask away," he says, not even opening his eyes when he speaks.

"How do you even manage to find out all of this stuff?" you ask, and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

"They suck at covering their tracks," he answers. "You'd be surprised at how easy is it to find out about stuff like that." You don't respond, turning your head to look at the floor. "Is there where you try to talk me out of what I'm doing?" he questions after you're silent for a bit. You look up to see that his eyes are open and his head is turned toward you.

"No," you answer, copying his position before relaxing on the couch. "Just thinking that I wish you were around a long time ago."

"One of your parents?" he asks softly, and you nod your head as you look at the ceiling.

"I'm only here because my dad couldn't be what he wanted," you whisper. "The shit he put my mom and me through," you continue sadly. "Maybe if someone was doing what you were doing, we wouldn't have been in that hellhole for as long as we were."

"Can still do it," he offers, and you can't help it when a big smile forms on your face. You look over at him to see that he's smiling with you. "Better late than never."

"Yeah," you hum. "He's a suck-ass hero anyway."

"Doesn't mean you can't rub salt in the wound."

"Maybe one day," you respond before you let the silence fall between the two of you.

"I'll put in a word to boss man," he says softly, and you chuckle as you shake your head. "What?"

"I know you're the ring leader, mystery man," you respond, looking at him. "The cliche, "I'm friends with him" bit is so predictable," you tell him lightly.

"Was wondering how long it was gonna take you," he says. "I bet nothing gets past you, huh?"

"It tears my friend up that I can see through her lies," you laugh, and he quietly copies it. You stand shortly after, pointing towards the kitchen. "You want some food? You probably need it."

He grunts when he shifts. "You don't have to do that, I'll be fine." You roll your eyes before you walk away.

"I bet the people you work with get tired of how stubborn you are."

You smile when you hear him laugh before he winces. "They might get a little annoyed."

You don't fix anything fancy, just enough for him to get his energy back. You both eat quietly, the silence welcoming for you since you went down a painful lane of memories, and he doesn't seem to mind either. You hear something in his pocket buzz once you're finishing up, and he takes the last bite of food before he rummages through his pocket as he pulls it out.

You grab your dishes taking them to the sink, and you put in the dishwasher as you hear the chair softly scrap across the floor. You turn around to see him walking towards you, and you lean against the counter as he gets into your space. "Thanks for patching me up," he tells you softly, a small pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Of course, but maybe go see someone who's more qualified," you jab, returning the smile.

He laughs quietly. "I think you did a pretty good job, so I'll be back."

"Just for that?" you question, knowing he's catching on to what you really mean. He doesn't respond, only leaning down until he's right in front of your face. You hold your breath as your eyes search his face as his stay on your lips.

"Maybe," he whispers, and when he leans in, you follow, but just as he moves forward, he's backing away from you. It takes you a moment to collect yourself, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes when you see the smirk on his face. "I'll see you around," he says as he walks to your window, and you scoff softly, shaking your head as you finally roll your eyes.

You look back towards the window, expecting him to be gone, but you jump when you see that he's standing right in front of you again. You don't even have time to say anything, his lips softly touching yours in a kiss that's way too short for your liking. Just as he was there, he's gone, and you can't even register him leaving, the feeling of his lips on yours putting you in your own world.

You can't help but smile as you gently touch your lips with your fingers, and you chuckle a bit before you walk over to close the window.

You surprisingly don't have that many private shows tonight, only having two so far during your shift. You're not complaining on one hand because that means less work, but on the other hand, not as much money. You're walking out of your dressing room after fixing your makeup, getting ready to go back out when Miruko stops you in the hallway.

"I don't know who's in there, but someone paid a lot of money to see you," she tells you, and you frown softly as you stand in front of her.

"You don't know who it is?" you question.

She shakes her head. "He wanted to remain anonymous," she answers. "My bet is it's probably a hero who doesn't want his reputation tainted or something," she says with a roll of her eyes. "But if he does anything weird, you know the drill." You nod before she walks off towards her office, and you walk to the room you're supposed to be in, but you hesitate for a split second when you get to the door. You take a deep breath before you open the door, already starting to get into character.

You freeze when you close the door, seeing a familiar face sitting in the chair in the middle of the room. "What are you doing here?" you ask as you walk towards the one and only.

He shrugs as he leans back in the chair, his eyes heated as they look over your body. You slow your steps as you get closer to him, realizing that this is the most skin he's seen of you. "Dunno. Somehow just ended up here," he replies lazily, his focus on something else. He leans forward to try and touch you, but you stop him, softly wrapping your hands around his wrists.

"No touching," you tell him playfully, and he smirks as relaxes his arms a bit, and you let his arms go so you can turn on the music. When you turn around, his eyes are only focused on you, and you usually play it up a little bit more to get more tips, but you feel like you don't need to do that.

You walk slowly towards him, running your hands over your body once the music starts. He's leaning back in the chair again, and you sway your hips, letting your arms rest over his shoulders as you bend at the waist. He keeps his eyes on yours as you slide your arms over his shoulders, stepping closer to him until your lips almost touch.

You slowly work your way behind him, letting your arms slide down his torso, and you rub your hands over it, feeling his muscles through his shirt. "Y'know, I paid a lot of money to see you," he tells you quietly. His voice is barely audible over the music, and the only reason you were able to hear him is because of how close you are.

"I heard," you hum, letting your tongue gently run down his ear, and your smile widens when you feel him shudder just a bit against your arms. He turns to face you, and it takes everything in you to not lean in by just a hair and kiss him. You don't move, and when he starts to lean in, you quickly move away from him, pulling away from him entirely.

You bite your lip to hide your smile when it looks like he's frozen for a bit, and you walk back in front of him again. He follows you, and you turn around, rolling your hips in a way that makes your ass move. Your fingers slide in between your skin and the tiny shorts you're wearing, and you slowly start to pull them down, holding them as you slide them down your legs, revealing the clear thong you're wearing.

You bend over until they're at your feet, and you turn to the side slightly so you can look at him. His eyes barely cut to yours, focusing on your lower half. You slowly stand up straight, kicking them to the side before you carefully walk backward until you're right in front of him.

You bend over again, moving your hips side to side, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you feel his hands on your ass. You let them linger for longer than you should, but there's no part of you that doesn't want his hands off your skin. You grab his hands before you sit down on him, and you can't stop the gasp that comes out of you when you feel his bulge on your ass.

"No touching, remember?" you scold softly as you lean back against him, but he ignores you, running his hands over your tits before they travel down to your legs. He rubs over your thighs, and when you spread your legs just a bit, he moves them inside, closer to your center, and there's no way to ignore the throbbing that's happening in between your legs.

You're standing up again, but this time, you straddle his lap facing him. His hands run over your ass, and you push your chest into him. "What's a guy gotta do to get all this off?" he asks quietly, and you smile as you roll your hips to the rhythm of the music.

"Buy me whatever I want," you joke, and his slides his fingers under the strap of your thong. He starts to roll your hips for you, and you can't think when he grinds you right into his dick, and you bite your lip to try and fight the moan that was building up in your throat.

In your hazy state, you can feel one of his hands leave you, and you try to see what he's doing, but his lips suddenly touch your skin, and you melt into him even more. You let your head fall back to give him better access, and the soft kisses he plants over your neck is enough to drive you insane.

He says something against your skin, and even though it's muffled, you can tell that he's saying numbers. "What?" you breathe, and you let your head fall back to his level when he pulls away.

He repeats the numbers again as he slides his card into your bra. "Buy whatever you want," he tells you, and his hands slide up your back, on a mission to unhook your bra, but you're quick to stop him.

"Now, wouldn't this take all the fun outta this?" you tease, and he pushes you closer to him even though there's barely any space left in between you and him.

"What I have in mind is a lot more fun than this," he says against your lips, and then the music stops, so the only thing you can hear is how heavy the both of you are breathing.

"Really? Why don't you take me home then?" you question, and your fingers dig into his shoulders when he picks you before you've barely gotten your sentence out. He starts toward the door, and you're quick to slide out of his arms, opening the door and peeking your head out.

You check to make sure the coast is clear before you grab his hand and quickly make your way to your dressing room. "Wait outside for me," you tell him. "Use the back door," you add before you make your way inside, shutting the door softly.

He was the last person for your shift, so you're quick to put on your clothes and check in with Miruko before you make your way out of the back door. When you walk outside, you don't see him, and Shindou comes into view.

"You're leaving already?" he asks, and you nod as you start to walk away.

"Yeah, I'm done for tonight. I'll see you later." He tries to say something, but you're already walking away, wondering where the hell he went.

You're nearly at home, and you still haven't seen him yet. "You look eager." You turn around at the sound of his voice, and his eyes still look as hungry as they did at the club.

"And you aren't?" you bite back, and you start walking towards your building with him in tow. It's when you make it to your door that things don't go as planned. You both freeze when you hear that familiar buzz in his pocket, and the swear he releases is loud enough to echo in the quiet, empty hallway. You visibly deflate, neither of you saying a word, and you slide his card out from your bra.

"Keep it," he says when you try to hand it back to him.

"No," you respond, pressing into his chest. "You come back after you've bought me something." He smirks, grabbing your wrist as he crowds you against the door. He wraps his arms around you as he kisses you deeply, and you're glad that he's holding you because you're sure that you would've fallen because of weak your knees become.

You moan when he slides his tongue into your mouth, claiming every inch of your mouth as his. You wrap around arms around him when you hear the buzzing again. He groans against your mouth, giving you one last long kiss before he pulls away. Your breathing is heavy, and you know that your lips are swollen just like his.

"I'll be back." And you know that's a promise.

~

For some reason, you're still wired even though you swore you were tired when you were getting off work. You haven't seen mystery man in a while, and you're disappointed to say the least. You were so close to getting laid after the tension and been built up, and then the chance was ripped away from you in a second.

You try your best to shrug it off as you change into some comfortable clothes and fuzzy socks since it is pretty chilly outside and you're still a little cold. You don't have to work the next day, and you look at the clock on your stove to see that it's only one in the morning. You get off earlier than usual, and you don't have to go to work later in the night.

The first thing that comes to mind is weed. It'll definitely put you to sleep, so you decide to cook something because you get terrible munchies when you get high. You turn on some music, connecting to your phone to your speaker and playing it on a low volume.

You hum and swing your hips to music softly as you start cooking, completely engrossed in your own world. You're in the middle of stirring your pasta when something rasps at your window. You scream as you turn towards the window, jumping in place. You catch yourself on the counter as your eyes land on a familiar face, and he's sans mask this time, so you can see that he's laughing at you.

You groan loudly as you walk towards the window, unlocking it before sliding it open. "How ya doin', princess?"

"You are the worst," you sigh, stepping to the side to let him in. You walk back to the stove as you hear him step inside and close the window.

"You always scare that easily?" he teases, and you roll your eyes, but you can't help but smile.

"Of course, I don't. I'm in my comfort zone, in my own world right now, and you come out of nowhere."

"You weren't expecting me to show up?" he questions, sitting down at your island, and you don't answer right away because you don't know how to. Because not walking home with him kind of sucked, and you were disappointed to say the least. "You upset about me not walking with you tonight?" You wonder if his quirk has something to do with mind reading, and you tense a bit when you hear his words. "I'm sorry, baby, I got caught up with some shit."

"It's no big deal," you shrug. "You had stuff to do."

"I'll make it up to you." You've been looking at the pasta you've continued stirring, glancing at the clock to see how much time has passed since you starting cooking it. You haven't looked at him since he's sat down, and all you do is hum in response to his words. "Whatcha making?"

"Chicken alfredo." You grab a noodle out of the water, blowing on it to cool it off before you try it to see if it's soft enough. "I'm gonna smoke, and I get really bad munchies. Just preparing for the future." The pasta is to your liking, so you grab your oven mitts so you can move the pot off the eye before you start prepping to cook the chicken.

It already comes in the package, but sometimes you have to doctor it up a bit, and you set a pan on the eye, spraying it before putting your chicken in it. You strain your pasta water, shaking it just a bit to make sure the majority of the water is out. "Is this what you always wear when you're home?" he asks lowly, and your movements slow a bit as you realize that you're not really wearing anything.

You have your apartment pretty warm right now since your cooking, so you're completely comfortable in your thin camisole and shorts that barely cover your ass. As you move the pasta back to the stove, you don't even have to look at him to know that's starting hard at you. "I like to be comfortable," you chuckle with a shrug. All he does is hum, and you feel yourself growing warm, but you continue to focus on finishing your food.

You grab the alfredo sauce from the fridge as you try to keep yourself calm. As you start to finish up, your thoughts drift to how long it's been since you've had sex. Really good sex. And it's been more than a while, and it would honestly be the icing on the cake right now after what happened that night. He stays quiet, but the tension in your apartment has changed and both of you know it.

You turn the oven on so your food can stay warm, and you know it won't be long until you're chowing down on it. You finally turn around to face him, and you can't control the inappropriate thoughts that fill your head as you look over him. His arms are resting on the island, and you don't remember them being that big. You stay silent as you walk towards your nightstand where you keep everything you're going to need.

"You staying?" you ask, holding up the remaining weed you have. He wordlessly answers as he stands up and walks towards you. He walks past you, and his scent alone is enough to make your knees weak. You're quick to stop him though when it looks like he's about to get on your bed. "You're insane if you think I'm gonna let you on my bed in those clothes," you say, pointing at what he's wearing.

You don't care how it sounds, but you will not let any dirt get onto your bed. He just smiles at you, and you turn around so that you can figure out if you have enough for two blunts or just one fat one. It looks like you're just gonna have to fit it in one, and when you're done rolling it, you turn around to see him laying against your headboard in nothing but his underwear.

He has his arms resting behind his head, and the sight stops you in your tracks. "What's wrong?" he asks, a big smirk on his face at your reaction. You ignore his jab, slowly getting on the bed on your knees. You copy his position, getting comfortable before you light the blunt. His eyes are on you as you take a hit before offering it to him. The music is the only thing filtering through the apartment as you start to relax and let the weed fill your system.

You eventually turn your head to the side as it starts to swim, and you're able to catch him blowing out the smoke. You definitely can't stop yourself from looking over him now that you're under the influence, and your eyes start from his neck and make their way down.

You still can't get over how hairy he is, and how he seems to be covered in it everywhere. His arms, his legs, his chest is just covered in dark hair. And you thought he was big in height. You honestly want nothing more than to run your hands over his body, seeing how small your hands are compared to him. Your eyes continue down, and you can feel arousal wetting your shorts when you can see what's in between his legs.

"My eyes are up here, sweet thing." Your eyes are slow to finally meet his, and you see that he's holding the blunt your way. You carefully take it from him before taking a long drag, both of you holding eye contact as you do. You shift a bit until your shoulder touches his arm and goosebumps immediately cover your skin.

You turn a bit towards him, and it seems like he knows what you're thinking, so he does the same. He's practically kissing you when you blow the smoke out, into his mouth, and you only focus on his body breathing it in. You feel a little lightheaded, and you think it's because you stopped breathing for a second. He inhales the smoke deeply before turning away from you to blow it out.

You're mesmerized, barely registering when he turns back to look at you. You forgot how horny weed makes you, and you're practically soaking your shorts right now. You don't know if you want to make a move or not, but as you both finish the blunt off, the tension only gets thicker. He lets you take the last hit, and you stamp the blunt out in your ash tray.

You haven't thought about eating because all you're focused on is him. "Are you ever gonna tell me your name?" you ask. "In my head, you're just mystery guy." He smiles softly at you when you giggle a bit. He hums quietly before he reaches for your leg furthest from him.

You frown a bit at his movements, but you don't fight against them, letting him move you until you're his lap. When you let your weight rest on him, you suddenly feel how hard he is, and you wonder how in the hell you missed that. You can't help but moan when you feel him throbbing against your core, and you don't know how you're going to focus on anything else.

You let your hands rest on his shoulders as his rest on your waist before they move to softly squeeze your ass. "Shinsou." He's watching you carefully, and you're about to respond to him but he grabs your ass again, pulling your shorts up higher to expose more of your skin. He grabs your ass again, this time spreading you open, and you gasp softly as you have a hard time keeping your eyes open.

"Is that all you're gonna give me?" you manage to ask even though you're so turned on right now it's starting to hurt.

"Maybe," he whispers, and you don't really think you'd care right about finding out the answer because his hands rubbing over you feel too good right now. He rolls your body towards him, effectively grinding you against him, and you gaze falls to his chest as another soft moan falls from you.

You can't help but let your hands slide down his shoulders and to his chest, rubbing over his skin just like you thought about doing earlier. Your hands follow the curve of his muscles, and you keep going until you reach his happy trail which you desperately want to keep following.

"Hitoshi."

"What?" you mumble, still zeroed in on his chest, and you can feel the vibrations of his chest when he talks.

"Shinsou Hitoshi is my full name," he answers, and you smile as you look up at him, finally happy to put a name to his face. You let yourself fall forward a bit as you wrap your arms around his neck, arching into him.

"I like the sound of that," you respond, your face inches from his.

"Sound even better if you're moaning it," he replies quickly, and you don't hesitate with your response.

"Well, you know how to make that happen." He hums at your words, and he's suddenly flipping you over, and the quick movement combined with the weed make your head spin. When it finally stops, your eyes focus on him above you.

"You still with me?" he asks you softly as he sets his legs on either side of yours. You nod quickly, softly grabbing his shoulders to pull him down to you. He easily moves, planting his lips on your for another hungry kiss that you can't seem to get enough of. You know that you're already soaking the fabric of your shorts, and kissing him only makes you even more wet.

You guide his hands to your body, and he quickly follows through, running his hands under your tank top, and you arch into his touch. His fingers feel like they're burning a path into your skin, and you can feel yourself starting to get warmer. You spread your legs as far as you can when he starts to move down towards your shorts, and you lift your hips so that he can pull them off with ease.

He pulls away to look in between your legs, and he groans quietly. "All of this for me?" he asks as he throws your shorts to the side. You go to answer, but it's replaced with a soft moan when he runs his fingers through your folds. He grabs one of your legs, pushing it towards your chest as he rubs over your clit.

You move into his touch, shamelessly getting louder the more he touches you. "Come on, Shinsou," you sigh impatiently even though you feel like a few more circles of his fingers could have you cumming in an instant. He doesn't wait to slide his fingers into you, and your hands grip your sheets as he slowly makes his way in.

"God, baby, you're so tight," he whispers, watching his fingers move. They glisten in the moonlight coming in through the window every single time he slides them out, and he can feel his mouth watering the more he watches. "You always this wet?"

"Only for you," you reply, the smile you have on your face slowly disappearing when he starts to rub your clit with his thumb. He speeds his fingers up, and you moan louder when he finally finds that spot inside of you. He zones in on it instantly, pressing it every single time he goes back in, curling his fingers in a delicious way that has your eyes crossing.

He grabs your ankles in one hand, pushing your legs up towards your body when you start moving too much for his liking, and you suddenly find yourself trapped between the bed and his fingers. "'T-Toshi," you whine, and he groans loudly as you continue to repeat his name like a mantra. He's the only thing you can think about as your mind starts to go dumb.

Even if you're able to move your hips a little bit, he follows you no matter where you move. The squelching of his fingers moving in and out of you is audible in the room, and your legs start to shake when you feel your orgasm start to rush up on you. "I can feel you, princess," he tells you. "Lemme feel you cum around my fingers," he orders softly, and one more press of his fingers on your clit and inside of you is what sends you over.

You breathe his name as you cum, soaking his arm and the sheets underneath you. Your legs tremble in his hold as he fucks you through your high, and you squirm when the overstimulation starts to sting your nerves. He slows his fingers down, but he doesn't stop, his eyes watching how you try and fail to move away from his fingers. He finally stops after what seems like forever, and your chest heaves when he puts your legs down as he slides his fingers out of you and into his mouth.

He moans as your taste hits his tongue, and he makes sure to get every drop before he slides them out of his mouth. Even though your head is spinning from your orgasm and the weed, you know for a fact that you want all of him, and your eyes slide down in between his legs, and you can see how hard he is through his underwear.

His phone buzzes suddenly, but he ignores it, spreading your legs as he looks at your cum smeared all over your legs, but then his phone rings. He growls loudly as he gets off the bed, snatching his pants off of the floor, and he takes his phone out of his pocket.

"Shit!" he whispers.

"You have to go?" you mumble, and he slides his pants on before he grabs his shirt.

"I'm sorry, angel," he tells you after he walks to the side of the bed that you're on. He kisses you deeply, and in your influenced state, you follow after him when he pulls away. "It's an emergency. You gonna be okay?" He stays in front of you, making sure that you're okay.

You nod softly, and he turns around like he's looking for something. You're starting to feel tired, your eyelids feeling heavy, and they open when you feel something in between your legs. You look to see him gently cleaning you up, and he moves the blankets, covering you with them.

"I'll fuck you real good next time," he says against your lips, giving you another long kiss before he makes his leave. You smile at his words, listening to him make his way out of your window before you let sleep take over.

When you wake up in the morning, you sit up, upset that he had to leave, but it doesn't last long because you got a really good orgasm while he was here. You didn't get a chance to eat your food last night, and you walk down to your kitchen to see the oven's been turned off. You notice a bunch of stuff on your island, and you frown as you walk over to it.

You see a note on one of the boxes, and you pick it up to read it.

Noticed all the art on the walls, so I figured this would be good enough

Every box that you open has expensive art supplies in it, and even art pieces that are going for six figures. You scoff as you look over everything, and you happen to flip the note over.

I expect you to hold up your end of the deal ;)

You stir awake, and a chill immediately runs up your spine. You're very much awake now as your body goes on full alert mode, and you move carefully, slowing rolling over onto your side. You're confident someone is in your apartment right now, and you can see that it's about two in the morning.

"You awake, baby?"

You recognize the voice instantly, and you sigh heavily as you sit up. Even though you know it's Hitoshi, you still jump when you see him standing at the foot of your bed. "What the fuck, 'Toshi. You scared the hell outta me." He doesn't move, and you slide out of bed, crossing your arms over your chest when the cold air hits your skin. It's pretty dark in your apartment, so the only light on his face is from the moonlight coming in from your window.

"You okay?" you ask softly, your brows softly furrowing in concern when he doesn't say anything. You notice that the look in his eyes is darker than it usually is, and at first you're wondering what could've happened, but then you remember where you've seen that look before.

"I got hit...with something," he mumbles, and then he starts to walk toward you, and you keep walking until your back hits the wall. "I dunno what."

"Okay," you say quietly. "Why didn't you go to a doctor or something?" You don't know why you're asking. He could be on the verge of death, and he'd still come to you to heal him.

"I don't think I need one." He rests his head against yours as his hands rub over your body.

"How are you feeling?" you whisper, making no move to stop him since you have an idea of what's going on.

"Feel really warm," he answers, and that's very much obvious when you touch his face. "And...tingly?" You chuckle a bit, and he smiles when you do but it doesn't last long as he lets his body press into yours. "And I'm fucking hard." You gasp when you feel it, and he moves his head down so he can start kissing your neck.

"I think you were hit with an aphrodisiac," you say even though both of you know that very well.

"Mmh, what should I do?" he asks against your skin as his hands slide around your body to grope at your ass.

"You can wait until it wears off," you breathe, your legs going weak as he starts to suck marks into your skin.

"Yeah, I'd rather just fuck your brains out." He's quick to pick you up in his arms after that, finally meeting your lips in a heated kiss that has you dripping. He makes the short walk to your bed, getting on it on his knees before he lays you down. You wrap your arms around his neck so that he can keep kissing you, but his hands aren't touching you anymore.

"You want this too, right?" You can barely hear him over your heartbeat in your ears, and he softly grabs your face with his hand, causing you to focus on him. "You gotta answer, baby, I don't have much time."

"Yes, 'Toshi. I want you, c'mon," you answer, pulling on his shoulders, and your consent causes his last string to snap. He's got your clothes off in a second, and then your thighs are suddenly by your ears. You jump as he puts his mouth on you instantly, and your hands grab into his hair as you prepare yourself to hold on for the craziest ride of your life.

He moves one of his hands to your ankles so that he can keep your legs out of the way as he slowly slides his fingers inside of you. His tongue works at your clit as his fingers press at the most sensitive spot in your walls, causing your moans to grow louder. "F-Fuck, Shin," you mewl, your breathing heavily now, and your stomach is starting to burn because you can't breath freely with your legs pinned to your upper half.

He only groans in response into your folds as he works you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your back arches as the pleasure starts to build up in the pit of your stomach, and shakily warn him of what's to come. If he heard you, he doesn't respond, only continuing his ministrations, and you swear he tries to reach deeper in to you, the squelching of his fingers moving in and out of you rivaling your noises.

When you start to squirm, he moves with you, not letting up for a second. "T-Toshi--!" Your soft shout tapers off into a gasp as you cum, and his mouth never leaves you as you squirt on his face. He makes sure none of it goes to waste as you try and fail to push him away from you to give you a breather. He sits himself up as he finger fucks you through your high, but he doesn't stop, and you try to grab onto his wrist.

"C'mon," you huff, tears forming in your eyes as you screw them shut from the overstimulation. He smiles down at you before letting go of your legs so he can lean down and kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue, but he's still fingering you. You can barely kiss him back, whining into his mouth.

When he finally pulls his fingers out of you, it feels like you can breathe again. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, peeling your eyes open to watch him clean his fingers off by sliding them in his mouth.  "God, you taste so good," he moans, savoring your taste before he kisses you again.

He slides his hand around your neck as he kisses you sloppily, sucking on your tongue before he pulls back with your bottom lip between his teeth. He starts to move himself up, taking you with him, and when he gets off the bed and stands, you realize that you're completely naked while he's still fully clothed.

You lean back, letting your hands hold your weight behind you as you spread your still shaking legs, grimacing a bit at the oversensitivity. You can't help but lock onto the massive bulge in his sweats, and he unties the string and shows himself before you can even say anything. Your mouth nearly drops open at how big he is,  your mouth starting to water just from looking at it. It's so thick that it's hanging there even though he's rock hard, and you tilt your head to the side as you admire the thick veins that run from the base to the dark red tip.

"I wasn't sure if I wanted to have you suck me off or fuck your tits, but it looks like you've already decided," he comments, and you look up at him through your lashes before you get on your knees, moving closer until he's right in your face. The tip is shiny and dripping with pre, and you lick your lips before bringing your hand up to touch him. He hisses when you do, gritting his teeth a bit. "Fuck, it hurts," he groans quietly, and you waste no time licking over his tip with your tongue flat, the saltiness hitting your tastebuds.

Shinsou moans softly, his body seeming to be ridiculously sensitive, that he's pretty confident he won't last long. He looks down to watch you spit on his dick, stroking him to make him even wetter. You try to take him down your throat, but you can't, only getting about halfway before your throat starts to close up. He swears loudly, letting his hand rest on top of your head as he tries his hardest not to move.

You pull off of him, stroking him again as you suck at his balls, and you smirk when you physically see his legs give a little. You make sure to show each one enough attention, swirling your tongue around them before you focus on his dick again. You place your hands on the bed, steadying yourself so that you can shake your ass just a bit while you suck him off, and he moans as he zones in on the movement.

His balls twitch in warning of his orgasm, and he holds onto the back of your neck before he starts thrusting in and out of your mouth. It causes you to gag, and his eyes roll as your throat closes around his dick. "Jesus," he sighs, letting his head fall forward so he can watch you take it. He knows for sure that he'd be able to see his dick print moving in your throat, and that thought is what sends him over the edge, pulling you off of him so he can cum all over your face.

You open your mouth to catch his release as he pumps himself until his skin starts to tingle from the oversensitivity. You swallow what lands in your mouth before wiping the rest of off your face with your finger and sliding it in your mouth. "Shit," he huffs, and you notice he's still hard, so you know he's nowhere near satisfied.

You haven't had much experience with aphrodisiacs, but you do know that they are intensely strong, and your pussy throbs at the thought of more to come. He sheds his shirt before he pulls you up to him so he can taste himself when his lips meet yours. You feel his fingers glide through your folds before they rub over your clit, and your nails dig into his shoulders as you feel yourself getting wetter once again.

You easily fall back when he moves, and he's on you again in a second, lifting his hips a bit so that he can line himself up. He makes you spread and hold your legs by your knees so he has room, and your toes curl in anticipation. He rubs at your clit before slapping it with his tip which makes you jump. "Hurry up, 'Toshi," you whine, and he doesn't waste another second. Your mouth drops at the stretch you start to feel, and he continues to rub at your sensitive bud as he slides in.

"Fuck, baby," he moans, "you're squeezing me so good." You've never felt a better stretch when he finally bottoms out, and you let your head fall back onto the bed as you feel yourself fluttering around him. You honestly don't know how he's holding out so well, but you appreciate the short grace period you're not sure you'll get again.

You give him the okay to move, and he pushes your legs down further than he did when he was eating you out. Your voice gets caught in your throat as he slams back into you with so much force that your headboard knocks against the wall. It doesn't take long for him to find that magic spot inside of you, and when he does, you're practically rendered speechless.

Your eyes continue to roll into the back of your head as you can only think about moaning his name. You try to grab any part of him you can as you hold on, the air feeling like it leaves your lungs every time he thrusts into you. "T-Toshi--f-fuck," you cry, tears forming in your eyes again. "O-Oh...my God--!" Your words are chopped up with every thrust, and he can feel how close you are because you're squeezing him tighter than before.

"'M'cumming--ah--!" Your nails dig into his skin as you cum, coating the both of you in your release as he struggles to stay inside of you as your pussy tries to push him out. He changes the angle of you hips as he throws his back, and the tears from your eyes keep coming.

"Ah, shit," he groans. "You're such a good girl for me, angel. Taking me so fucking well," he continues as he lets his forehead rest against yours, and you can feel his hips twitch before he fills you up, a loud groan following as he fucks his cum into you. When he finally slows and lets go of your legs, they flop onto the bed as it feels like your heart is going to be out of your chest. "That's some good shit," he mumbles, his breath fanning against your face.

He's still hard inside of you, feeling him pulsing inside of you, and you think he might give you a bit of a break, but then he's suddenly sitting up and taking you with him. You bite your lip to conceal your moan of surprise as his the tip of his dick sits snuggly at your cervix. You wrap your arms around his neck as he kisses you deeply as he carefully moves inside of you with shallow curls of his hips.

Your face scrunches up in pleasure as your spine tingles with overstimulation, and he watches you intently as he holds you close to him. He's hitting that spot inside of you so good while barely moving his hips, and all you can do is take it.

"'Toshi," you whine, your nails digging into his shoulders, and all he does is smile in response before your toes curl. You don't even have the leverage to move away from him, and you sigh heavily when he finally pulls you off of him.

He carefully lays you down before he flips you over, propping you up on your knees. You try to catch your breath as he runs his hands over your ass. You moan softly when he runs his fingers through your folds, and you jump when he gently pinches your clit.

He takes his dick in his hand, smacking it against yours as as he continues to play with your clit. "You ready for me again?" he whispers, and you nod your head, looking at him over your shoulder.

He pushes on your back, forming it into a deeper arch. "Spread 'em, baby." You move your hands back, spreading yourself open for him, and the sound it makes due to how wet you are is close to making you flush.

You feel him rub over your back as he slides into you, and he holds your back when you try to move away from him. "You got it, angel, just take it," he coos quietly, and your mouth falls open as he fills you up again.

"Oh, my God," you breathe as you let your face fall into your pillow. He gives you a shallow thrust that has you gasping, and you put your hands back on the bed to brace yourself. He's so big, you don't know if you'll be able to walk after all of this.

You push back against him to silently tell him you're ready, and you hold your breath in anticipation when he slides out of you. You cry out when he slams back into you again, your fingers gripping your pillow as your eyes roll back in your head.

He's ruthless, ramming into your sweet spot so well that words aren't even forming in your head. Hitoshi grabs the headboard with one hand as he keeps his hand on your back, and you can hear him swearing softly as he fucks you.

Tears dot your lashing as you squeeze your eyes shut, taking him all, and you moan when his hand slaps your ass hard. You say his name like a mantra, feeling your orgasm building up in your tummy. Despite that, you're still trying to move away, trying to find his arm to stop him.

He suddenly moves both of his hands to your wrists, pinning them to the bed as he rests his top half on your back. "Don't run," he whispers, and you swear you can hear a smirk around his words. He speeds his hips up, and you're trapped by him and your own pleasure, and you call out his name as you start to cum.

His hips slap against yours, and he groans in your ear as he cums right after you, filling you up again. Your nerves tingle with sensitivity, whining as he keeps fucking you while he rides out his high. When he stops, you can feel that he's still hard, and when he finally slides out of, your lower body collapses onto the bed.

You're breathing so hard, and you can barely move your legs. You hear Shinsou shift behind you, and you whine quietly when he rolls your over. He sits back against the headboard before moving you onto him, and he pulls you into a sloppy kiss as soon as you sit on him.

Your makeout is audible in the room, and you moan into the kiss, wondering if it's possible if the aphrodisiac can be transferred because you feel dizzy just from this alone. He starts kissing over your face before he kisses down your neck as his hands run down your back and to your butt.

"Wanna give you a break," he mumbles against your skin before he gently sinks his teeth into it. "But you're making it so hard," he groans, and you let your head fall back as he continues to mark your skin.

You start to roll your hips causing him to moan, and his fingers dig into your ass. You can't keep it up for long, but he immediately takes over, rubbing you over him. It feels good for you too, but it isn't as overwhelming, so you let him use you, reveling in the sounds he's making.

He thrusts up into you, and you hold on to him as you take your turn to put marks on his skin. "Fuck, 'm so close," he grunts, his hips lifting up to meet you so hard that it nearly sends your head into the headboard.

He says your name right before he cums, and he bits down on your shoulder, holding you tight in his arms until he relaxes again. You pull away when his grip loosens, and you look down to see the mess that he's made.

"God, why am I still hard?" he groans when he looks down with you.

You giggle softly. "You feel a little better though, right?" you ask him gently, moving some of his hair that's stuck to his forehead.

"Yeah," he sighs with a short nod. He watches you move backwards until you're between his legs, and he spreads them to give you room, knowing what you're going to do.

He watches you with dark eyes as you clean up the mess he's made, and he moans when you finally lick over his dick. You arch your back, sticking your ass up as you take him into your mouth, and his head rests against the headboard as his eyes roll.

You keep your eyes on his as you take all of him, moving your tongue so you can lick at his balls, and his hips jump softly at the sensation. You keep your lips tight around his dick as you pull off, swirling your tongue around his tip before you dip into his slit.

"S-Shit," he moans. "Fuck. C'mere," he groans, and you pull off of him, wondering what he's talking about. He softly pulls you up by your arms, and you shuffle closer to him on your knees. You let him turn you around, and he slides down on the bed until his face is right in front of your pussy.

"Toshi, this is about you--!" you try, but he's already put his mouth on you, his tongue nailing your sensitive bud.

"Then let me taste you again," he says against you, and you don't have it in you to fight him. You can't even move away from him, his grip on you so strong, you're confident there'll be bruises. "Keep sucking me off, angel."

You moan as he eats you out, but you put him back in your mouth, focusing your mouth on his tip as you use your hand on the rest of him. You can't keep it up for long as your concentration is split, and you can feel your legs trembling.

Shinsou suddenly grabs your hips, pulling you down until you're sitting on his face, and you sigh at the relief you feel once your legs are relaxed. "W-Wait, Toshi, you can't breathe," you moan, and he responds with a slap to your ass.

You hear him say something against you, but you can't hear him, moving your hips against his face as you feel yourself getting close. You swirl your tongue around him again, the only thing you can manage since your mouth is stuck open as you moan his name while you wrap your hand around him.

You cum not too long after, your body tensing as that knot snaps before you ride out the high. He cums right after you, a loud groan muffled by you as he paints himself and your hand white.

You fall over, getting off of him as soon as you can move so that he can breathe, and he's already on you again. He kisses you hard, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue, and you moan when he rubs his fingers through your soaking folds.

"You better call outta work," he says against your lips.

Yeah, you probably should.

~

You've never been more grateful that Miruko is understanding and let you take the night off on such short notice. When you wake up, Shinsou is snoring loudly next to you, but you couldn't even tell because you were drained yourself. You try to roll over and everything pulls painfully as soreness blooms between your legs. "Good lord," you hiss softly as you try to sit up. Shinsou barely stirs, and you slowly reach for your phone so that you can order some food.

You weren't sure how long the effects of the quirk would last, but five hours was definitely not what you were expecting. He tried to give you breaks every and now and then, letting you tap out when it was too much for you, but it wasn't long before he was in between your legs again. He just couldn't get enough of you, and you honestly want to know what kind of aphrodisiac it was and lock that person up.

After the last round, the last thing you remember is Shinsou pulling out of you and laying you down. He must've fallen asleep right after you did, but now it's about to be late in the evening. Even though you've slept the day away, you still feel like you could sleep for another day. It'll take a while for the food to get here since you ordered enough to feed a small family, possibly more. Once you confirm the order, you flop right back into bed, letting sleep take over again.

You try your hardest to get to the door when you hear the knock because you just woke up, and you don't know how long they've been knocking. You're not surprised when Shinsou doesn't stir, and you wrap yourself in your robe before limping to the door. God, you're going to need to soak.

"Sorry--" You stop talking when you see Shindou on the other side of the door instead of your food. "What the hell are you doing here?" you ask, closing the door slightly as you take a couple of steps towards the hallway.

"Miruko told me you called out, I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he answers, and you give him a small smile as you tighten your robe.

"Oh, well, thanks. But I'm totally fine, I was just feeling a little under the weather," you lie, hoping that he doesn't ask to come inside as your grip on your door tightens a little. You don't know what to say so it gets quiet and suddenly Shinsou's snoring starts to replace the silence. You see Shindou's face change a bit, and you try to change the subject. "Well, thanks for stopping by, I'm totally okay. I'll see you later, okay?"

"What's going on?" he asks when you try to close the door, stopping the motion softly by putting his hand on the door. "Are you really okay?"

"Yes," you respond tightly, inhaling sharply.

Suddenly you notice that the snoring has stopped. "Baby?" You freeze at the sound of Shinsou's voice raspy from sleep. "Who's at the door?" You turn your head to look at him, seeing him slowly sitting up. You turn your attention back to Shindou when he calls your name, and you try to figure out a way to get him to leave because he cannot see Hitoshi.

The look on Yo's face in unreadable. "You're seeing someone now?" He sounds almost offended, and you can't help but scoff.

"Yo, come on. We've been broken up for a while. Don't be like this, I do not have time," you state firmly. "Thanks for coming to check on me, but I'm fine." You try to close the door, but he stops you a bit more forcefully this time.

"Seriously? 'A while'?" he quotes, "did I mean nothing to you?" You sigh heavily waving your hand as you see Shinsou getting out of the bed in your peripheral.

"Yo, you can't be serious right now. Don't get pissy because I'm seeing someone," you say. "How is that fair? You know why we broke up. It was your own damn fault." He tries to speak, but you don't let him. "No, you need to leave. I don't know why you think that you can show up and have the audacity to get pissed because I'm in a relationship."

"I didn't--"

"Oh, but you did," you interrupt. "Leave, Shindou. I'm expecting food soon." You sigh again before you close the door, locking it as you see Shinsou walking over to you, still naked.

"Who was that?" he asks before he kisses you, his voice genuine.

"Someone I work with," you answer at first, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Was it that bouncer?"

"How'd you know that?"

"I see how he looks at you," he says simply with a shrug. "I guess it didn't end well between the two of you."

"Yeah, and I don't wanna get into it honestly."

Shinsou holds his hands up, pulling his lips down at the corners. "And I'm not gonna ask. That's your business, angel." You nod your head softly, but you don't respond, upset at having your whole mood ruined. "Pretty sure he's still standing outside the door," he whispers to you. "Want me to say something?"

You quickly shake your head. "No, he doesn't need to know what you look like," you whisper back.

"It's not like he's gonna know, right? And what's he gonna do, huh?"

"No, 'Toshi," you sigh. "I don't wanna have anymore drama, and I don't want you to get found out," you explain. "Also you're fucking naked." He chuckles which makes you smile, and he kisses you softly a couple more times.

"You're starving too, right?" he asks when he pulls away, his stomach grumbling.

"Yeah," you laugh softly. "It should be here any minute." As if on cue, there's a knock on the door, and you check the peephole before pushing Shinsou out of sight so you can open the door without having him flash the poor guy.

You take the food but before you can even ask for the price, the man speaks before you do. "Don't worry, miss. It was already paid for," he tells you, and you frown at him. "I guess he's your neighbor? I passed him on the way out." Your face falls, and you give the man a friendly smile.

"I'll be sure to thank him. Thank you so much and have a nice day." You close the door before you set the food on the counter.

"Ooh, free food," Hitoshi speaks up as he starts to take the food out of the bag. He said it more to himself, but you can't even find yourself to laugh at his reaction. "He didn't like your job, right?"

You hadn't even realized you'd zoned out, staring at the countertop. You look at Shinsou after he speaks, and you nod your head after releasing another tired sigh. "He was incredibly jealous. I don't know if he was always like that though. And if there was any guy that touched me the wrong way, it took more than a couple of dudes to stop him from killing him."

Shinsou doesn't say anything, he just eats and listens to you, and you finally sit down at the island next to him. "I'm pretty sure Miruko didn't want us dating co-workers, but it honestly didn't last long, and I broke it off once he started acting like that." He pushes a couple of the containers your way. "This doesn't bother you?"

"Why would it?" he says before eating some noodles. "I already know I'm better than him, and by your reaction, I have nothing to worry about. So, I'm chilling." He opens one of the containers he slid towards you. "Now, stop moping and eat this before I eat it all." You can't help but laugh as he holds the fork your way, and you eat off of it. You both talk about random stuff as you eat, and it doesn't take long for you to get out of that mood you were in.

Once you're done, you spend the rest of the day in bed with Shinsou, and you end up sleeping the night away as well.

You freeze when you walk into the room, wondering if this is a joke. You clear your throat as you walk towards the man, doing your best to keep your cool.

"One of the top pro-heroes in my room," you say. The man's face starts to turn pink a bit, and you can't help but smile. "What are you doing here, Deku?" you question as you slide your hands over his shoulders.

You honestly should've expected it to be a hero when you saw how much money was paid. Pro-heroes always go over the actual price, and you assume the rest of it is hush money. It makes you roll your eyes; you have better things to do then telling people which heroes come to a strip club.

He can barely meet your eyes as he answers. "I, um, wanted to ask you something," he whispers, and that makes you frown a bit. He hesitates, and you sit on his lap, his body tensing horribly when you do.

"And what would that be?" you whisper. It takes him a while to finally speak, but when he does, you're frozen.

"I know you know who the vigilante is."

You jump back a bit, trying your best to keep your heart rate from spiking so that you don't alert Miruko. She just recently got some heart rate monitors to try out and you know the moment it spikes, she'll make sure he's out of here.

"And?" you continue, running your hand over his chest, stopping at his heart to see if you can detect a change in his heartbeat. But you don't feel anything, he's completely serious.

"I want in," he states, that nervous demeanor he had nearly gone.

"Want in on what?"

"We both know what I'm talking about here," he responds.

"And what makes you so sure that I can help you with that?"

"A lot of heroes are trying to track him down, but they haven't been very successful," he answers.

"And you have?"

"Why do you think I'm here?" he asks, and you glance off to the side for a split second.

"I'm not a part of what he's doing. There's no guarantee that I can even get "you in"," you quote.

"But you know him. That has to be something, right?"

You frown. "Why would a top hero want in on something that's sole purpose is to expose corruption?"

"Because it's not at all what people think it is. I thought it would change after..." He trails off, pulling his fingers under his thumb to pop them. "But it's still the same shit."

You suddenly get off of him, and his face falls a bit as you start to leave. "Is that all you wanted?"

"Wait!" he says, standing quickly.

You turn around. "Is that all you wanted?"

"Yeah," he says after clearing his throat.

"I'll see what I can do." And then you make your leave.

~

You make your way inside your apartment, but after the conversation you had tonight, you can't really find it in you to go to sleep as soon as you get there. You get in the shower, and you lay in bed, mindlessly watching TV. It's a random show that you put on that you've never seen, but you're not really thinking about watching it.

You're scrolling on your phone, wondering if you'll see Shinsou tonight. You haven't seen him in a while since he's had to lay low because of a close call he had a couple of weeks ago. It's better to only have contact with him in person, so you can't even tell him about what happened at work.

You roll over on your side, and your eyelids start to feel heavy when you blink. Your eyes finally close after a while, your phone falling from your hand as you start to fall asleep when you hear something at your window. You don't move, the sound barely waking you up, but your eyes open when you hear footsteps.

You sit up, seeing Shinsou walking up the stairs, and you smile as he walks over to your side of the bed. You give him a sleepy smile as you fully sit up, and he returns it with soft smile of his own. He leans down, resting his hand on your neck before he kisses you softly.

"Hi, 'Toshi," you hum after he pulls away, and his smile widens at the sleep in your face and in your voice.

"Hey, baby," he whispers warmly. "Didn't mean to wake you."

You shake your head slowly, letting your head fall to the side a little when he continues to rub his thumb over your neck. "I just fell asleep, so you're fine." You yawn quietly, blinking the tears away from your eyes. "Are you supposed to be here?"

"I don't have much time, but I just wanted to see you. Let you know that I was okay," he answers. You hum as you close your eyes, your smile going as big as it can in your sleepy state.

"Well, thank you for coming."

"Of course. How was work?" Your smile falls at his question, and he frowns just a little bit at your reaction.

"Someone came to me looking for you," you tell him, and he takes a half step closer to you.

"They didn't hurt you, did they?" he asks, and even though his body doesn't show that he's angry, the change in his voice does.

"No," you answer with a shake of your head. "They know that we've been seeing each other, and they asked me if I could get them to you," you explain. "They want in."

"Who was it?" he questions quickly.

"Deku," you say with a laugh. "Can you believe that?"

"He wants in? What does that mean?"

"Beats me," you answer with a shrug. "I guess the corruption is too much for him. But he doesn't have to join you, he could literally just leave," you sigh, shaking your head as you roll your eyes. "I told him I'll see what I can do, but I said that I wasn't even a part of it, so there was really nothing I could do."

Shinsou sighs as he looks to the side, and he lets his hand fall from your neck before he steps back, turning around, running his hand through his hair. You frown as you watch him, and you move the blankets off of you so that you can stand. "What's wrong?" you ask, grabbing his wrist, and he turns back around to face you.

"I didn't mean to get you mixed up in all of this," he tells you softly. "I don't like knowing that there's a chance I'm putting you in danger."

"I can handle myself, and they seem to only approach me at work," you tell him.

"But if they know where you work, then there's a chance that they could know where you live," he emphasizes, and you didn't think about that since your brain is still tired.

"Oh, yeah. I didn't think about that," you say plainly, letting your shoulders drop. "So, I should probably be laying low too, then," you continue.

He sighs heavily as he nods. "I'm sorry, angel. I didn't mean for you to wrapped up in all of this."

You shake your head. "Don't worry about it, 'Toshi. I kinda knew what I was getting into when I met you," you tease, pushing on his arm softly, and he finally smiles. "I'll call Miruko and tell her what's going on. She'll understand."

He nods, sighing again. "I should probably see if Deku's being legit."

"Well, be careful, okay?" You lean up to kiss him, and he easily meets you halfway.

"Of course."

"Did we really have to meet here? It almost took me an hour to get to this place."

"I don't have any reason to trust you right now. You could just say I'm being cautious," Shinsou responds, crossing his arms over his chest.

They're nearly out in the middle of nowhere, and there's no reception here, so there's no way Deku can call for anyone just in case he's planning something else. But Shinsou knows him, so he already has plans in place in case things go south.

"We went to high school together. That has to count for something, right?" he laughs.

"Yeah, but there's a lot of years unaccounted for. That was a long time ago." Shinsou stops him before he can even speak again. "What are you really doing here? I don't appreciate you going to people that aren't involved," he says. "You come to me if you want to talk to me."

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry, it won't happen again," Deku sighs, and Shinsou stays silent, wordlessly telling him that he can continue. "I got a lot of information that could be beneficial to you."

"I guarantee you that what you have I already have. And just because you give me information, doesn't mean that you're automatically a part of this."

"Who are you going after next, huh? Someone that's in the top ranking, right? I got everything that you could think of."

"Let's see it then," he sighs. "I guess some things don't change," he adds when he sees the notebooks that Deku pulls out.

"Well, you seem to be a wiz at technology. Anyone would be stupid to keep secrets on any piece of it." Deku hands it to him, and Shinsou makes sure to stay aware of his surroundings as he looks through them. He reads through most of it pretty quickly, already knowing about all of this stuff, but he slows when he sees stuff that he's never heard before. "Told you."

"How'd you get this?" Shinsou asks, reading through a couple of the pages.

"It's what happens when you're friends with these people. Alcohol makes people say anything around the people they trust." He flips through the notebooks a bit more before he closes them, looking back at Deku.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you just because you have all of this?"

"Listen, you're doing work that's needed, but it's not enough. All of this runs way deeper than you think," Deku argues. "And if you have someone on the inside, then you can get to the bottom of it."

"So, you think that once all of this goes away, everything will be the way you want it?"

"We have to at least try, right?" Shinsou chuckles softly, shaking his head.

"Don't you get it? None of this is going change anything," he says, shaking the notebooks in his hand. "Once you go on, there's a very big chance that all of this will start again."

"Then why are you doing it?" he counters quickly. "You're spending all of your time knocking all of these heroes down, and for what? What's your end goal?"

"I'm not gonna be here for much longer," Shinsou answers after he's silent for a while. "I'm just having fun at this point, but this is never gonna stop. I'm just doing what I can before I finally move on." He hands him back the notebooks. "I realized a long time ago that this is just an endless cycle. I've got a few more things I wanna say, and then I'm out of here."

"Then take me with you," Deku tries. "I'm on the same page. This is never going to change."

Shinsou squints at him, crossing his arms again. "I don't think it'll be that easy for you," he says honestly. "Even after what happened in high school, you still came back to all of this, and now you're a big part of it. It's gonna take more than giving me information for you to finally detach yourself from an impossible reality."

He doesn't respond, and Shinsou nods before taking a couple of steps back. "I'll let you think about this. You know where to find me."

Shinsou walks away, leaving Deku standing there holding onto every word he said.

~

Being trapped in your own apartment isn't so bad, but you sure are getting bored going between your bed and the rest of your apartment. You've been finding new shows to watch in between working on some more art pieces, but those don't really hold your attention for long.

You're laying on the floor, scrolling through your phone when you hear a familiar sound at your window. You smile as you sit up, already knowing who it is. You stand up to meet him halfway, and you practically fall into him, wrapping your arms around him. "I'm guessing this isn't going well," he laughs, and you groan before you move your head up to look at him, resting your chin on his chest.

"I'm so bored!" you sigh, whining as he picks you up and walks over to the couch. "I feel like I've done everything I can. Nothing is keeping my attention anymore," you say, and he smiles as he listens to you talk, getting comfortable on the couch.

"Well, I'll be staying here for a while, so hopefully that helps."

"Really?!"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," he says around a chuckle. "Things are getting kinda heated, so we're splitting up for now." You hug him tightly, your body relaxing as you sigh.

"Thank God. I really thought the boredom was gonna kill me." You kiss him softly, further relaxing into him as his hands rub over your back, finding their place on your ass. "Is it safe for you to stay here, though?" you ask.

"More or less," he answers with a shrug. "I've got your building secure, so I'll know if there's something wrong."

You nod before your eyes catch onto one of the paintings you made. "You know, I never got to thank you for all that art you got me a while ago," you say, and he smiles softly, rubbing his hands over your ass.

"Well, I'd say you thanked me pretty well after that aphrodisiac," he replies, and you hum, feeling his hands start to roll your hips against him. "I think you should thank me again after saving you from boredom," he adds quietly.

"Really?" you whisper, already moving in to kiss him again. He's quick to pick you up again, making his way to your bed. He carefully walks up the stairs as he gets rid of your clothes, and he softly places you on the bed before quickly removing his.

He hovers over you, setting his knees on either side of you. He kisses you softly, his fingers drift over your skin so lightly that it's almost ticklish. The sensation makes you arch into him, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

One of his hands continue to move down until it reaches your pussy, and you jump softly when you runs his fingers through your folds even though you were expecting it. He kisses down your face, planting kisses all over your neck as his thumb rubs over your clit.

One of your hands slides into his hair as you spread your legs, and you moan softly when he slides his fingers into you. He sucks at your tits, using his body to keep you from moving too much as he speeds up his fingers, curling them to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

He lifts his head up when you tug on his hair, your toes curling as you feel that familiar feeling building up in your stomach. He smirks at you, moving up to kiss you sloppily, swirling his tongue around yours.

He pulls your lip softly with his teeth when he pulls away from the kiss, smiling after he lets it go. "You gonna cum, baby?" he asks you quietly against your lips like he doesn't already know.

His smile widens when you can't answer, rendered to moans as he nails both of your sensitive spots. "Toshi, Toshi--" you breathe, your chest stuttering every time you say his name.

One last gasp of his name is what he hears before you cum, your walls clenching around his fingers so hard that he can barely move them anymore. He follows you when you try to move away from the overstimulation, only giving you a breather when you whine his name.

You catch your breath before gently pulling him towards you so that you can kiss him. You rub your hands over his body as he grinds against you, and you buck your hips up into his touch. "You ready for me?"

You nod quickly, and he can feel you spread your legs. "Fuck me, 'Toshi, come on," you urge, and he chuckles softly before he lines himself up.

He lifts one of your legs by your knee as he slides in, and your mouth falls open as you get used to the stretch. You haven't felt this in a while, and feeling it now, you know that you've missed this. He moans as he feels you pulse around him, and he grabs your hands, lacing his fingers with yours as he bottoms out.

He moves your hands so that they're over your head, and he kisses you softly as he lets you get used to the stretch. "This is all pretty intimate, isn't it?" you whisper with a small smile.

"And what about it?" he responds with a smirk, his thumbs rubbing over your hands.

"Feels like we're lovers or something," you comment, and he hums as he tilts his head to the side a bit.

"And we aren't?"

"You know what I mean," you say, trying your best jot to hold your breath as you wait for his response.

"What d'ya wanna hear?" he asks before he kisses you, and you don't get to respond because he quickly pulls out, thrusting into just as fast. "That I love fucking you?" He slams back into you again. "That I love coming to see you when I finally can?" Another thrust. "That it kills me when I can't see you?"

He keeps his eyes on yours as he speaks, and you try and fail to hold the eye contact. "That being with you has made me the happiest I've been in a long time? That I wanna be with you for the rest of my life?"

He speeds his hips up, and he knows that can't respond like you want to, and he smirks before his eyes roll when you squeeze around him as he nails your g-spot. "That I wanna be in this pussy forever?" Your nails dig into his hands as your moans get louder, and he can feel you getting closer.

"Fuck, you always feel so good," he groans, letting his head rest on yours as he feels his orgasm building up too. "C'mon, angel," he urges. "Want my baby to cum." He shifts his hips, nailing that spot inside you every time, and that knot snaps, tears spilling from your eyes when you screw them shut, your mouth open in a silent moan.

"Jesus," he slurs into your neck, groaning your name loudly as he cums soon after you do, slowing down his thrusts as he fills you up.

He lifts his head to kiss you once you both catch your breath, and he lets go of your hands so he can cup your face in his hands, kissing you firmer than before.

"How was that?" he jokes, and he smiles when you do, and your eyes slowly open to meet his.

"That sounded like a love confession if I'm not mistaken," you gush.

"Maybe I need to fuck you again so you know for sure." You laugh, wrapping you arms around his neck before kissing him again.

"I love you, 'Toshi," you whisper.

"I love you, too, angel."

You both stay like that for a moment, just appreciating each other's touch, and Shinsou carefully slides out of a while later, getting off the bed so that he can clean you up. You clench your teeth softly when he rubs the warm washcloth in between your legs, and he hangs it on the side of the laundry basket when he's done.

He slides into bed next to you, and both of you get under the covers as he pulls you towards him. You rest your head on his chest as he rubs over your body, occasionally letting his finger run down your side just to see you shiver.

"So, what happens now?" you ask softly, and you hear him sigh and his head moving softly across the pillow.

"I'm planning on leaving," he starts. "I'll drive myself crazy if I keep doing what I'm doing cause it'll never end." You listen to him intently, tracing his one of his tattoos on his arm with your finger. "There's still some people I wanna take down, though. But after that, I'm done."

You lift your head up, and he's quick to look at you. "So, where are we going?"

He gives you a soft smile, placing his hand on your face before rubbing his thumb over your cheek. "Anywhere you want," he says warmly.

"There are so many options!" you sigh quietly, looking to the ceiling as you go through places in your head.

"You serious about this?" he asks, and you look back at him.

"I honestly don't have any reason to stay here anymore," you sigh. "My dad is still here, and I've always wanted to get away from him as far as possible." You softly chew on your lip. "I guess I never left because I didn't want to break from the monotony of my life or because I was waiting for something to happen. I dunno.

"But you're here now, so I guess this could finally be the push I've been waiting for."

"I'm honored," he muses, and you roll your eyes as you smile, but you can't help but laugh.

It's been a few weeks since Shinsou started staying at your place; he decided that if he was going to go out with a bang, then he should do it when everyone least expects it. He's got a few more things to put in place, but he's able to do all of that while laying low, so even though there could still be people looking for him, it's nowhere near as many as it was a while ago.

"You have to stay still, 'Toshi," you scold, looking past your canvas, and he groans as he rolls his shoulders.

"I don't know if you know this, but this position is fucking uncomfortable," he grunts with no heat behind it. "You couldn't have me lay down or something?"

"If you would stay still, then you wouldn't have to hold the position for so long," you say, and he sighs as he rolls his eyes before getting back into position. You're almost done, adding the last touches when there's a knock at your door. You and Shinsou both look at the door, but neither of you move.

"Are you expecting someone?" he asks quietly, and you shake your head as he carefully moves across your apartment. You stare at the door as you listen to Shinsou tapping at his laptop. "Do you know who this is?" he asks, and you quietly but quickly make your way over to him. He added a few cameras when he started staying here just for security, and the one on the door gives a clear view of who's in front of it.

"Oh, my God," you breathe when you see who it is.

"Angel, wait!" Shinsou says when you run to the door. You quickly unlock it, swinging it open, and you tackle the person with a hug.

"Mom!" you sigh, tears already forming in your eyes as she hugs you back. "What are you doing here?" you ask, not ready to let her go just yet.

"I just wanted to check on you. I was contacted by a Miruko?" she says, and you finally pull away. "She told me that I should probably check to make sure you were okay."

You let her in, closing the door behind you, and in your excitement, you forgot about Shinsou, but when you turn around, he's nowhere to be seen. You frown as you look around for any sign of him, but you quickly turn to your mom when she looks at you. "Is there anything big going on that I should know about?" she asks.

"No, of course not. I just needed to take a break from work, that's all."

"Your boss calls me to tell me to check on you because you took a break?" You can tell she doesn't buy it, and you honestly don't know what you could say. "Who is it?"

"Huh?" you respond suddenly, your eyes widening. "What are you talking about? It's just me."

Your mom rolls her eyes before she turns to face your empty apartment. "Please save my daughter from her horrible lying and come out, please," she says, and your eyes dart around quickly. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

Shinsou suddenly peaks his head out from the loft. "Considering that her quirk has to do with poison, I am a little worried."

Your mom laughs. "Mine has nothing to do with that. I'm defenseless. I swear," your mom says, holding her hands up. Shinsou uses his bindings to jump down from the loft, and you roll your eyes. Of course, he wouldn't use the stairs.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Shinsou says easily. "Sorry for all of that," he adds, waving his hand towards the loft.

"Considering your reaction, you must be doing something that you shouldn't," your mom discloses, and you and Shinsou tense for a split second before you sigh.

"Something like that?" he acknowledges with an uneasy chuckle. "I would never put her in danger, though. I'm doing everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen." Your mom just looks at him, and for the first time, it actually looks like Shinsou's nervous. Hell, you are too.

"You managed to get caught up with a vigilante?" your mom suddenly questions, and a million things run through your head as you try to figure out what to say.

"What makes you say that?" you try, but you know she's already figured the both of you out.

"Alright, when are you gonna drop this?" she scoffs with a smile, and you glance at Shinsou, who gives you a barely visible nod.

"Okay, fine," you sigh, your body drooping as you drop your head. "You figured it out." You look up to see a surprised look on her face which makes you frown. "What?"

"Who knew a wild guess could be true?"

"You were just guessing?!" you blurt, and it's not long until all of you are laughing. "Okay," you sigh, "you probably had a long trip, right? Do you want anything?"

"Just some water, please." You nod, leading her to the couch before you grab a bottle of water from the kitchen. You hand it to her before you sit next to her while Shinsou sits on one of the bar stools at the island.

You rest your weight on her, putting your head on her shoulder. "I missed you, Mom," you whisper.

"I missed you, too, sweetie," she responds, rubbing over your head. "I'm sorry I didn't see you sooner. It was hard to come back here after leaving."

"I get it."

"But, it wasn't okay," she states, and you sit up when she shifts, grabbing your hands. "I should've come back sooner, or done a better job at trying to take you with me. I was only thinking about myself, and allowed you to suffer at the hands that man for who knows how long."

Your smile is small as tears form in your eyes again. "But you're here, now. That's all that matters," you say. "And I haven't seen him in years. I guess he's too upset that I wasn't what he wanted me to be."

"I'm so glad you got out, and that you've had people that are taking care of you." Then she suddenly sharply turns to Shinsou. "And what are your intentions with my daughter?"

"E-Excuse me?" he stutters.

"Mom!" you exclaim, giving her a questioning look.

"You didn't think I would ask? His career isn't really something that comforts me." You sigh heavily, letting your head fall into your hands. She stands up, walking over to him as she puts her hands on her hips. "Well?"

"I can promise you now that I can take care of her," he declares. "I won't be doing this for much longer anyway, so you'll have nothing to worry about." You can't help but smile as you listen to him, and he looks at you for a brief second, returning your smile before he looks back at your mom. "I'm going to support and love her for as long as I live."

"And then what?" He raises his eyebrows, not following what she's saying. "What happens after you're done with all of this? Am I getting grandkids or what?"

"Good lord, Mother, please," you groan, but she doesn't take her attention off of Shinsou, and he releases an uneasy chuckle.

"We haven't really talked about that yet, um..." he tries.

"I'm not saying it's a must," she emphasizes. "I just want to make sure there are plans in place."

"I can assure you that there are plans. I plan for everything," Shinsou assures. "I will never let anything happen to her."

"I'm holding you to that," she declares. "You won't be able to escape if I find out something did happen."

"I can't say that I'm surprised, but you won't be doing any of that," he repeats, and he has no problem telling her over and over again.

"Okay, Mom, you can chill with the interrogation," you say, walking up to her and putting your hands on her shoulders. "How many times does he have to repeat himself?"

"I'm just being precautious while he's still involved with dangerous things." You roll your eyes, knowing that there's really nothing either of you can say to placate her worries. She presses some more questions out of Shinsou, but he's eager to answer them, and you just sit back and watch them. It sort of puts you at ease, knowing that you have people that do care about you.

Your childhood was rough, and you know for a fact that if you could go in time, you would tell your past self that it does get better, and that you're going to meet one of the best people you've ever met. You'd go back in time and tell her that everything is going to be okay, and that she was a fighter, that her mother never stopped thinking about her.

Your mother stays for the rest of the day, and you soak in every moment that you have with her and Shinsou that entire day.

~

"Hey, I was thinking of some new recipes I found for dinner. Pick which one you want," you tell him, having the recipes splayed out on the island. You hear him walk up behind you, but before you can turn around, he's wrapping his arms around you, looking at the recipes over your shoulder.

He glues himself to your back, humming softly as he looks over the recipes. "That one looks good," he says, pointing to the one he's talking about.

"Are you hungry now? I can start on it if you are," you ask, grabbing the recipe, but he doesn't let you move.

"Not really," he answers, his lips hovering over your neck. "But I wouldn't mind having a snack," he adds before he softly kisses your neck as his hands rub over your body.

"Toshi, c'mon," you giggle, but you make no move to stop him.

Suddenly, there's a hard banging on your door that scares the shit out of you, and Shinsou instantly turns around, standing in between you and the door. "I know you're here! Open up!" You tense so hard it hurts when that voice hits your ears. When it looks like he might move, you stop him softly with a hand on his arm.

"Do you know who's out there?" He turns to ask you, and you can only give him a silent confirmation in the form of a nod. They bang against the door again, and you try your hardest not to flinch. You step around Shinsou so you can make your way to the door, and you take a few seconds to calm yourself before you open it.

You don't open it all the way, stopping the door with your body when your father tries to forcefully enter his way in. "What the hell do you want?"

"I am your father, you don't--"

"You are nothing to me," you respond sternly. "How in the hell did you find me?" You never thought you'd see him again. Once you declared that you didn't want to be a hero, that you weren't going to allow him to control your life anymore, he disowned you. When you were old enough to finally leave, you did because he didn't care for you anymore. Honestly, you don't think he loved you at all like a father should; he just wanted you to be something he couldn't.

"Who have you been hanging out with?!" he demands, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't bullshit me! I know you've been around that vigilante!" This time you really frown at him. How in the fuck does he know that? You obviously don't look at Shinsou because that would definitely raise suspicion, and you don't know what your father would do.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you try, and he slams his hand against the door when you try to close it.

"I know you're lying to me. You've always been bad at that." He only thinks that because he was always been forceful when it came to getting your true opinion about things.

"Are you stalking me?" you question, and if you were younger, you wouldn't catch it, but you seem him hesitate for a split second. "Why? I thought you were done with me, huh? You wanted me to get outta your sight for being such a disappointment and a mistake." You quote his words back to him, but of course, he barely shows a reaction.

"You are making me look bad," he tries, and that makes you roll your eyes.

"As far as I know, no one knows about me because you were so disgusted that I wasn't what you wanted me to be. So I am very convinced that your statement is far from the truth."

"Don't change the subject." You wonder if he can hear how ridiculous he sounds over his ego. "And where you're working now? Your mother would be so disappointed in you."

"Don't you talk about my mother that way!" you scream, pointing at him. "She was the only person that loved me in that fucking horrible household! She's the only reason I'm still fucking here! She would be glad that I'm away from you!" He tries to speak, but you refuse to let him get a word in now. "You are the worst person in the world, and an even worst father and husband! And I will make sure one day that everyone knows about it, and you will be even further from being in the top ten!

"But it's not like you'll need my help anyway because you're such a sorry pro-hero!" That seems to really set him off because he's slamming the door open, knocking you back. He keeps moving until he pins you against the counter as fear rises in your throat, and you suddenly feel like a child again, completely helpless against him.

You try to fight him off of you as the counter continues to dig into your back, and you close your eyes as you find yourself at a loss of what to do. Your eyes shoot open when his grip starts to loosen, and you see Shinsou holding him in a chokehold with a cloth over his face. Your father's eyes are frantic as he tries to fight whoever is holding him, but his movements start to slow as his eyes fall closed.

When he stops moving, Shinsou lets him fall to the ground at the same time you sink to the ground, sobs leaving your chest as you start to take in what just happened. Shinsou's with you in a second, holding you in his arms as you let it all out. Your eyes are screwed shut as you try not to let yourself go down that horrible memory lane.

"Just focus on my voice, okay? He's not gonna hurt you anymore." He keeps talking to you, which helps especially since you couldn't think of anything else to focus on. He eventually picks you up once you calm down a bit, and he carries you to the couch, sitting down with you in his lap.

You rest your face in his neck, taking a final breath that really expands your lungs to really calm yourself. "What did you do to him?" you ask, sighing at the motion of him rubbing over your back.

"I just knocked him out with some dust I got from a friend. He won't remember much when he wakes up," he tells you. "Didn't know if I had your permission to kill him." He smiles when he hears you laugh before you sniffle. You lift your head up so that you can kiss him.

"Sorry, you had to see me like that, but thank you for calming me down."

"Don't apologize for anything," he says. "He's a piece of shit, and I'm so sorry you had to go through that." He rubs his finger up and down across your cheek. "You never have to apologize for something like that. Okay?" You nod, giving him another hug as you take another deep breath.

Shinsou sits with you a little bit longer until he mentions that you should probably get your father out before he wakes up. Since it's pretty late at night, you're able to walk out of your apartment as Shinsou carries your father over his shoulder out of the building. Just as you thought, when you walk out, there's a car sitting behind the building. The driver side door opens, and you speak up before the man can say anything once he gets out.

"Tell him that if he shows his face here again, he won't walk out." Shinsou has everything covered, so the man definitely won't be able to identify him, and he nearly throws your father into the man, and he almost falls as he tries to catch him. You don't want to be near him any longer, so you quickly turn around to walk back into your apartment.

"I can't stay here anymore." It's the first thing you say once Shinsou closes the door to your apartment. "He's just gonna keep coming back or send people to stalk me," you continue. "He'll definitely put things together if he sees you."

"Don't panic, okay?" Shinsou tells you, stepping into your space and resting his hands on your neck, letting his thumbs rub over your face. "You can just stay with me until he dies down. I don't mind. Things have pretty much settled, so everyone's heading back to our home base, but I just wanted to stay with you."

He smiles when you do, and you sniffle again as you rub your hand over your head. "I don't think I have a choice," you sigh. "I just have to talk to my boss."

~

"You don't have to say anything."

You blink in surprise. You told Miruko you had something to talk to her about, so she lead you into her office. Once you closed the door and tried to explain your situation, she spoke before you could. "Excuse me?"

"Did you forget that I've known you since you left that piece of shit?" Her words cause you think about your past self, and you push past it for now. "I'm guessing he showed his face? That's why you're here."

"Yeah," you whisper.

"And I know you've got someone now, so don't worry about anything here. Just worry about yourself." You can't help but smile at her words, and she copies it as she walks toward you. "I'd kill that man for you in heartbeat, you know that?" She hugs you as you laugh, and you nod against her. She pulls away, holding your face in her hands. "God, he really got you this time, didn't he?"

You nod again, deciding not to say anything, but thanks to Shinsou, you've already let out your emotions. Before, when your father was still finding you, you'd hold it in until Miruko called you into her office, and you'd finally break. She hated seeing you like that, and she's glad that she hasn't seen you like that in a while.

"If you need anything, you call me, okay?" You nod again, giving her another hug before you make your way out. You had already met up your friend, telling her about everything that had happened, and she was just as supportive, only telling you that she wishes she could go with you.

You're about to walk out the back door, feeling a weird sense of calmness despite the events that have occurred the last couple of days. You can feel a bit of nostalgia tied in with it, and you know it's from the fact that you may never step foot in this building again. You won't see Miruko or your best friend for the foreseeable future, but you know they only want the best for you, and that's enough to make you feel better about how the situation with your dad came to this.

You stop when you see your friend, giving her one last tight hug with the promise that you will contact her as soon as it's safe. Having that conversation with her did make you shed some tears, but she's making you smile nonetheless, and you know you wouldn't have even made it this far without her and Miruko.

You finally make it outside, taking a deep breath when the air hits your skin. Shindou's standing right beside the door when you walk out, and you battle in your head whether or not you should say something.

"You're not coming back, are you?" he asks quietly. You stop, slowly turning to look at him, and the low volume of his voice makes you realize how quiet it is.

"Yeah," you sigh softly. "Some shit came up. It's not safe here for me anymore." The plain look on his face disappears as his brows crease to hover closer to his eyes.

"He found you?"

You nod, knowing who he's referring to. "I don't know if I'll be back, but I hope--" You cut yourself off when he steps closer to you, and you almost back away.

"Is he treating you good?" he asks you suddenly, but there's no jealousy in his voice, only lovingness with a hint of concern.

You give him a small smile as you nod. "Yeah. I love him," you tell him honestly, and you can see something that looks like regret flash in his eyes, but you can barely catch it; the look is gone by the time he blinks.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for how I acted during our relationship." You hesitate to respond for a split second, not sure if you want to go down this path.

"Thank you for saying that," you eventually say.

"I mean it. And I've really messed things up, and I hate that this is the last thing that I'm telling you." You just listen to him talk, not sure if this is something you need to respond to. "But, I'm glad that you're happy, and that's all I want for you. I just regret that I'm not the man to do that for you." It looks like there's more he wants to say, but you know that you don't have much time left.

If there was something else he wanted to say, he drops it, instead saying, "Is it okay if I hug you?"

There's no way that you can say no. Even though you don't feel for him the way you feel for Hitoshi, he was someone who was with you through the hard times as well even though for some parts of it, he wasn't making it any easier.

He hugs you tighter than you expect, and he knows that this is the last time in his life he'll get to hold you like this. He sighs heavily before he pulls away, giving you a soft kiss on the top of your head before he finally lets you go, taking a step back.

"Goodbye, y/n."

"Goodbye, Yo."

You don't give him another look, turning away slowly before you head down the street. You know his eyes are still on you until you're out of sight, and if you're being honest, you needed that conversation more than you thought. Your relationship with Shindou was one that wasn't built on the best foundation, and it hurt when it finally crumbled and fell.

Talking to him for the last time gave you the last bit of closure that you didn't know you needed, and you walk back home in a lighter mood than before.

You pack up your stuff when you finally get back, waiting for Shinsou to let you know when he was outside. You take one last look around your apartment, making sure you have everything before you make your way out the back of the building. You see a car when you walk out, and he rolls the window down once you come into view. He helps you put your stuff in the car, and then you're driving away.

It's dark outside, and you stay quiet for most of the ride as you look out the window. And it's not because you're feeling bad or anything, it's just that you can't believe it's come to this. You honestly never expected your dad to talk to you let alone find out where you live and where you're working. You think it's because you've been around Shinsou. Your dad must have suspicions about who this vigilante is, but that means that there could be an actual investigative case about Shinsou.

You don't think he's working alone because some of the stuff he's done, you know he wouldn't have done without help, but he hasn't mentioned anyone else. All you really know is that he's the ringleader in everything that's going on. You don't know how long you've been driving, but you're going further away from the city.

There's music softly playing from the speakers of his car, but you're not really paying attention to it. Everything was going so well, and you never expected your father to show his face, especially after that last conversation you had with him. He told you that he never wanted to see you again, and for once, that was the only thing that you had agreed on.

Your mood has definitely soured, and you feel Shinsou's hand on your thigh. He grabs your hand shortly after, giving you a kiss on the back of your hand, and you softly smile at him. You focus on the feeling of his hand for the rest of ride, trying your best to not let the recent events cloud your head too much.

He eventually slows down, turning down a dirt path that you could barely see. The sound of the car driving over the rocks fills in the noise over the music, and you look around through your window even though it's pitch black outside. You can see something coming up in the distance, and you squint as you get closer to it, your eyes honing in on a house that looks like it hasn't been touched in years.

"Please don't tell me this is where you've set up shop," you mumble, and you hear him laugh as he pulls up next to the house.

"Of course not. We all have taste," he responds, and he slows the car down in front of what looks like the start of a forest. He reaches into the console, pressing a button, and you jump when you hear something moving. You look ahead to see the trees in front of you moving, the path that looked like a dead-end now clear.

He drives forward, going through the clearing, and once he gets through, he puts the car in park before getting out. You watch as he starts to cover up the tire tracks, throwing down some downed branches just to be on the safe side before he gets back in the car. He pushes the button again, and you watch as the path disappears again.

He continues to drive, and you see another house coming up, but this one is much bigger than the one that you passed. "There's no way no one hasn't seen this, even with the trees," you comment as he pulls into the garage.

"We have some cloaking tech as well that we added just to be on the safe side," he tells you as he turns the car off. You get out, and he grabs the bags that you're going to need, deciding to worry about the other stuff later, which you don't mind. There's no lights on anywhere, not even on the outside of the house, so he holds your hand as he guides you through the dark.

You reach a wall, and you can barely see him put his hand up. You jump when you hear an automated voice say his name, and then the wall is opening. He doesn't immediately walk inside though, stepping to the side and turning to you. He pushes something on the wall where we placed his hand, and then he lifts your hand, placing it where his once was.

"Now, you're in the system," he tells you easily before he leads you into the house. The door closes behind you, and you're still in the dark, but suddenly the lights turn on. You squint quickly, your eyes taking a while to adjust to the light, and when they finally do, they widen as you take everything in.

"Oh, my God," you breathe. "This is amazing."

He chuckles. "It isn't all that." He pulls you through the house, and right now, it's just an open space, but you're still surprised nonetheless. He tells you that this room is like an additional security measure, and you find that the actual part of the house where he lives is through another wall, but this time it's more intricate to get into. Everything that you would need to get in, he makes sure that you have in, setting you up in the system until you're finally seeing what the inside actually looks like.

The first floor seems like it's five times the size of your apartment, and your eyes are wide as you take it all in. There's basic things on the first floor, like the living room, kitchen, and a gym that looks way better than anyone you've seen at the public ones. You follow him up the stairs, which has more rooms, but you decide to explore those later as sleep starts to call your name.

He takes you to his room at the end of the hall, and the bedroom alone seems to be bigger than your apartment. He carefully sets your bags down by the bed, and you admire the bed. "It looks so comfortable," you sigh. "But I wanna get in the shower first."

He leads you to the bathroom, and even though you expected it to be big, you're still surprised when you finally walk in. He turns the shower on, and he undresses you, putting your hair up and in a shower cap before gently pushing into the shower. You groan softly as the water hits your skin, and you turn around, letting the water hit all of you. You hear the door open and close again, and you wipe the water out of your eyes as you turn around.

Shinsou tenderly grabs your face in his hands, giving you a soft kiss. "You okay?" he asks you quietly. "I know these past couple of days have been pretty hectic."

You respond with a small nod. "I'll be okay eventually. I think seeing my mom and then that whole thing with my dad just kinda through me for a loop."

"Have you talked to her yet?" he asks and you shake your head.

"Not yet. But, I will first thing tomorrow."

You told your mom everything that's been going on with you starting with what happened after she left. You told her how you got your job now, and that Miruko has been taking care of you ever since she found you. You want to tell her about the situation with your dad as soon as possible since you don't want her getting worried if you don't contact her.

Shinsou carefully washes your body, planting your face and neck with kisses every now and then before he showers himself. He dries you off when you're done, but not without some lingering touches that has you staring him down. He wraps your hair up before laying you on the bed and rubbing lotion into your skin, and once he's done with himself, he turns off the light, joining you in the massive bed

He's in your space as soon as he gets comfortable, and you curl into him as he wraps his arm around you. "Thank you for all of this," you whisper, your eyelids starting to feel heavy. "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," he whispers back. "Sleep tight."

When you wake up, you know that you're alone. You roll over, confirming it with your eyes once they open, and you stretch before you sit up. You see one of Shinsou's sweatshirts on the bed, and you put it on before you get out of bed. You walk into the bathroom to brush your face and do your skin routine before you make your way out of the room. You can hear music coming from downstairs, so you follow it, crossing your arms as you get to the bottom of the stairs.

The music's coming from the kitchen, and you walk in to see Shinsou at the stove. He catches you walking up to him from the corner of his eye, doing a double take before smiling at you. He leans away from the stove to kiss you. "Good afternoon, baby."

"It's the afternoon?!" you exclaim softly, and you look around for a clock, seeing that it's a little past one o'clock.

"Yeah, you were sleeping like the dead," he teases and you yawn again.

"I guess I really needed that sleep." He chuckles softly, and you stand next to him, leaning on him as you watch him cook. When he's done, you both sit at the island to eat, staying silent as you do. The silence isn't awkward, and with Shinsou next to you, it's more than welcomed.

"You ready to meet everybody?" he asks once you're done eating, and he takes the dishes to the sink to wash them.

"Are they gonna welcome me?" you say around an uneasy chuckle.

"Of course. They're chill people," he answers. "Well, except for one, but he's always been like that."

You nod at his words even though he can't see you, and he dries his hands once he's done with the dishes. He walks back over to you, grabbing your hand to gently pull you out of your seat. "Don't worry too much. You'll be fine," he reassures, and you wordlessly follow him out of the kitchen.

He walks down a hallway until he reaches a door, scanning his hand on the hidden panel so that the door can open. You follow him down the stairs as the door closes behind you, and when you can hear voices, you start to get a little nervous.

"Took you long enough," you hear once you reach the bottom, and you walk into an open room.

"It's not like we're doing anything urgent today anyway," Shinsou counters as you look around the room. There's a bunch of screens on one side of the wall, and there's a table in the middle of the room with a holographic map of the city. The other side of the room as computers with a bunch of stuff on the screen that you don't really try to read right now. Your eyes scan through the faces that are in the room next, and they're all looking at you, but you don't know what to say.

"I never thought you would introduce us to the girl that makes you go MIA for days," one of them suddenly says, and she stands up, walking over to you. "I'm Mina."

"Nice to meet you," you say quietly, shaking her hand.

"This is Bakugou, Sero, Denki, and Kirishima," she introduces quickly after, and they all give you either a wave or a nod of their head except for Bakugou. You assume that's who Shinsou was referring to earlier.

"Nice to meet you guys." Everyone goes back to their conversations shortly after, and you sigh internally in relief since you were worried it was going to get awkward.

"Relax, we're not gonna hurt you," Mina laughs, guiding you towards a small table at the side of the room. Shinsou focuses his attention on one of the screens at the other side of the room as Mina continues to talk to you. "So, what brings you here?"

"Some family stuff," you answer. "My dad is currently looking for me, which is not a good thing," you laugh bitterly.

"Is he a hero?"

You nod, taking a few seconds before you say his name. "He's Envenom."

"Your dad is Envenom?!" you hear someone yell, and you jump softly as you try to figure out who just yelled. You assume it's Kirishima because he's walking over to you. "Does your quirk have something to do with venom then?"

"Kinda. I mostly use it for healing though since that's my mom quirk. The only way I can use my poison is if I really hate the person," you huff.

"A healing quirk?" Denki speaks up, walking over to you as well. "I got this nasty gash while training, and it hurts like a bitch," he groans, and he lifts up his sleeve to show you.

You grimace a bit. What kind of training do they do here?

You hold your hand out, telling him to come closer, and he holds his arm out to you. You spread the substance from your fingers over the gash. "It won't heal overnight, but it'll speed up the process. And it shouldn't hurt as much now."

"It's like it never happened," he laughs, shaking his arm and you can't help but smile as you watch him.

You see Bakugou stand up suddenly and walk over to Shinsou. "Her dad's one of the top pro-heroes, and you brought her here?" Even though he's whispering, you can hear him loud and clear, and you shrink into yourself a bit.

"Relax, Bakugou. He's a piece of shit. He won't come anywhere near here," you hear Shinsou respond, and you don't hear the rest of the conversation because Mina catches you attention again.

"So, you have some bad beef with your dad or something?" she asks, and now that everyone's attention is on you, you feel nervous to answer.

"He wanted me to be the best hero because he couldn't," you say, giving the bare minimum, but everyone seems to understand. "He didn't treat me or my mom good, and we both left as soon as we could." You look down at your hands, taking a deep breath as you try not to let the bad memories flood in. "I haven't seen him in years, and he showed at my apartment two days ago. I don't really know what he wants from me."

Mina rubs over your back, and you look up to see Bakugou looking at you, but once you meet his eyes, he looks away, busying himself with something else. "I'm glad that you got out," Sero says, and you give him a small smile as you focus on the people next to you.

"We can take him down if you want. I'm itching to be out there again anyway," Denki sighs.

"Maybe, I'll take you up on that one day," you say around a smile.

Shinsou interrupts the conversation a little while later, wanting to start talking about the plans that they have before they're finally done. You stay in your seat, going back and forth between listening and zoning out. There's still a part of you that has anxiety about your dad and if he's actually been following you.

You feel like there's no reason for him to be doing any of this, but maybe he just can't get over his ego. You were able to contact to your mother and tell her everything that's happened. You reassured her that you were okay, but you told her that you probably wouldn't be able to contact her as much just to be on the safe side. You know that your dad wouldn't try to track her down, but you don't know how confident you can be on that anymore.

There's a deck of cards on the table, so you busy yourself with that as they talk. You're half listening to what they're saying, starting to go into your own world, and you don't even realize that they're done until you see Shinsou come up to you out of the corner of your eye.

"You didn't have to stay, y'know?" he says, and you collect all of the cards.

"I just didn't feel like getting up," you muse, putting the cards back before you stand up. Before Shinsou can say anything, Mina's speeding by and pulling you away.

"It's so nice to have another girl here. There's so much I can finally talk about that someone will actually care about!" she says quickly before she pulls you up the stairs, and Shinsou laughs as he watches you go.

~

Shinsou's already moved all of your stuff into the house. Apparently, everyone has their own part of the house, which explains why you never seen anyone moving about. Shinsou moved all of your art stuff into one of the empty rooms that was on the hall, and you spend most of your time here when everyone's out doing what they need to scope out who their next target it.

You're sitting on the stool in your art room in front of one of the paintings you were working on before you left your apartment. You don't really have an end goal to the painting, you just started it because you needed something to do to cure your boredom. Your mind isn't really empty like it usually is, and you just have so many thoughts running through your head that you're close to just finding something else to do.

You sigh, putting the paintbrush down with the intention of finding something else to do. You jump when someone clears their throat, and you look to your left to see Bakugou standing in the doorway. "You mind if I come in?" he asks quietly, and you shake your head as you shrug.

"Come to tell me that Shinsou shouldn't have brought me here," you say, half-joking. His steps falter a bit, and he looks at a loss for words. "I'm just joking, Bakugou," you laugh. "I don't blame you for being skeptical of me, but I'm gonna be honest, I don't know if my dad is still after me or not. And if there's a chance that he does find this place, I take full responsibility."

He nods carefully, taking some time before he speaks. "Do you have any idea what he'd do if he found you here?" he asks, and you shake your head.

"I have no clue. I seriously thought he was done with me, so I don't get his deal. Maybe it's his ego or something."

"There's a chance that could be the reason. That seems to be one of the things those top heroes have in common," he says. "Having big fucking egos and being too cocky." You laugh softly, glancing at your painting as silence fills the room again. "You talked to, uh," he starts, and you look at him. "You talked to Izuku, right?"

You frown, looking around as you think before putting your eyes on him. "Deku?"

"Yeah, yeah. You saw him, right?"

You nod. "We talked after he came to my job. Shinsou didn't tell you?"

Bakugou sighs. "He did, but he's always been very vague sometimes," he answers, and you just stare at him. He clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. "What?"

"You wanna know how he's doing, don't you?" You smirk as Bakugou scoffs, trying to find somewhere else in the room to look. You stand up, walking up to him, and he takes a while to meet your eyes. "He's frustrated. Apparently, he really wants to remedy all of the corruption, but I think he knows that even if he does that now, it won't stop."

"He's always been stubborn like that," he whispers after he huffs.

"I can't really give you anything else. Our conversation was pretty short."

"Did--Did he ask about me?" he asks cautiously, and you try to figure out how to answer without hurting his feelings too bad.

"I'm not sure if he knows that any of you are a part of this," you say. "I think a lot of people suspect that Shinsou's not working alone, but no one has a clue who you guys could be." Bakugou stays silent as he nods. "Also, I told him that I wasn't a part of this, so even if he did ask about you, I wouldn't even know who you are."

Shinsou told you about how him and everyone got in this place at first. They all went to high school together, but only a few of them chose this path. Bakugou was actually the last person to join, which was unexpected for you to hear. No one tried to convince any of their friends that chose the pro-hero path to join them, knowing that it was their choice to go that route.

After what happened in high school, a lot of them decided that hero work wasn't for them, and as they got older, they only realized how bad it was on the inside. One by one everyone started to join, and they've been running together ever since.

"It's just--we've been doing this for years, and now he decides that he wants in?" Bakugou sighs.

"Well, you did say that he's pretty stubborn," you say. "So, he's probably been trying to fix this for a while, but he didn't want to believe that he couldn't stop all of this." You sit back down on the stool.

"I don't even know if we can trust him. What if it's all just an act?" he voices aloud.

"Do you think he's capable of doing something like that to you guys?"

"Who knows? It's been years since we've all seen each other. A lot has happened." You don't respond, and Bakugou eventually sighs, shaking his head. "Sorry, for talking your ear off. I bet you didn't want me to bother you with all of this."

"Don't worry about it, Bakugou," you say softly after you laugh. "I'm always here if you need someone to talk to."

~

"Where are you taking me?" you question, waving your hands out in front of you.

"It's a surprise, baby. Just be patient," Shinsou laughs.

You've been at Shinsou's house for a few months now, and you've settled in nicely with everyone. You hang out with them for most of the day, playing games or just having conversations that go late into the night. They've already been on two big missions, and you've been there anxiously waiting for them to come back.

Thankfully, they've all come back, but not without some injuries. You do your best to heal them as much as you can, knowing a bit about suture techniques thanks to your mom, but you're definitely nowhere near a doctor. They have one last mission before they finally call it, and you can tell that it's got everyone on edge. The atmosphere has definitely changed. It's nothing major, but you can tell that everyone, yourself included, are counting down the days until it happens.

"I'm blindfolded, Toshi. Can you blame me for being impatient?"

You were packing up your stuff, getting ready to head out once they finally completed their final mission. They're able to do it from the hideout, so while they were putting in the last touches, you started to get everything together. Once you got the majority of it, you helped Shinsou pack the car. When he was done, he turned to you, suddenly putting something around your head so that it covers your eyes.

He guided you back into the house, and know you have no idea where you are. You hear a door open, and the chill air from outside hits your skin, making you shiver a bit. He stops you from walking with his hands on your shoulders, and you can hear him take a couple of steps away from you. "Okay, take it off."

You quickly untie the fabric, and you blink rapidly. Your eyes widen when you see what's in front of you as your mouth drops open. "What is all of this?" you ask. He's led you to the roof, where he has a blanket and candles set up. You walk over to it, and he's quick to follow, guiding you to sit down.

He sighs softly as he gets comfortable. "Well, we've been together for some time now," he starts, and you can tell that he's nervous. "Over a year now, which is crazy to me," he huffs, like he can't believe it, and hell, you can't really believe it either. "I just wanted to do something to celebrate that, and I thought you'd like the stars too."

You look up at the sky, not even realizing that you can see what seems like a million stars. You gasp as you look across the dark sky, and you hear him shift next to you, so you look back at him. Your eyes widen again when you see a small box in his hand, and you scoot a bit closer to him.

"Please don't tell me that's what I think it is."

He laughs, letting his head fall for a second before he shakes it. "No, it's not. I'd choose a much better setup when I propose to you." Your heart swells at his words, choosing to stay silent. He opens the box, revealing a gold ring. He takes it out, holding it up to you as he sets the box aside. "This is a promise that I'll keep you safe for the rest of our lives. That I'll always find you no matter what situations come at us in the future."

You look at the ring, dipping your head a bit to see that the inside is engraved. He shifts it, so that you can see the words in the moon and candlelight.

I'll always find you, and I'll always love you

"Toshi," you breathe after you read it, and he grabs your hand, sliding it onto your finger. You rub your finger over it as you admire it. You surge forward to kiss him, knocking him back. He catches himself quickly, holding you in his arms as he lays back against the blanket. "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby." You look at it again, giggling softly against your will, and he smiles as he watches you.

"Hey--"

He's cut off by a sudden explosion that has the both of you jumping up in an instant. You hear loud alarms going off, and the both of you are quick to stand up. Before you can even process what's happening, there's a helicopter flying over the house, and something falls from it.

Shinsou suddenly grabs you, jumping to the side. "Cover your ears!" You do it quickly, and even with your hands cupped tightly over your ears, you still hear the loud explosion as you hit the ground. Everything is spinning, and then you suddenly feel weightless. You scream as you fall through the roof, keeping your eyes closed and ears covered as Shinsou keeps you in his hold.

When it finally seems like your stomach settles, you look around, and the moment you take your hands off of your ears, the blaring of the alarms are nearly deafening. You try to move, but it hurts to move, and you look under to see Shinsou laying there. "Toshi!" you gasp. You wince as you move off of him, sitting up on your knees. "Toshi, baby, wake up!" you yell, shaking him. You lean forward with your hand on his chest, and you nearly cry when you feel he's still breathing.

You jump back when he gasps, sitting up quickly. He looks around, groaning loudly, and then he suddenly turns his attention to you. "I knew this was fucking trouble," he groans, and he reaches for your necklace, snatching it from your neck.

"Shinsou, my mom gave that to me!" you yell, and he throws it on the ground, taking a brick from the rubble and smashing it. You scream, about to yell at him again, but then he picks something up. Your body runs cold when you see what it is. "Oh, my God." You hold your hand over your neck. "My dad said that my mom left that when she left." It finally hits you. "This is all my fault."

Shinsou grimaces as he stands up, grabbing your hand to pull you up. "Focus, baby. We gotta get outta here." You let him lead the way through the rubble, and you hear more explosion throughout. It doesn't even look close to the house that you've been in for the last few months.

He takes a back way to where the car is, and you try to move as fast as you can, but once you get to the car, you hear something crackling. "Shinsou, you gotta get down here!" It's Denki, and it's coming from the radio that's attached to his hip. "Mina doesn't have time to send the files!"

Shinsou swears loudly. If they don't get those files out, then all of this was for nothing. "I'm on my way," he says back before throwing the radio on the ground.

"I'm going with you."

"Absolutely not," he states. He winces as he takes the keys out of his pocket, putting them into your hand. "You get into the car, and you drive as far as you can without stopping. Do not look back."

"Hitoshi, I am not leaving you!"

"Yes! Yes, you are! I promised you and your mom that I would keep you safe!" You still haven't let go of him, and you don't know if you have it in you. He moves forward suddenly, giving you a long kiss that nearly takes your breath away. "I love you."

"That sounds a lot like a "goodbye" I love you," you tell him.

"I'll always find you." He starts to leave, making sure that you don't follow him.

"Toshi, don't leave me," you say, tears forming in your eyes. "Toshi!" He doesn't stop, and you nearly scream in frustration as you watch him leave. "I love you!"

He finally turns around, giving you a big smile, and you watch him go for a little bit longer until you hear another explosion. You quickly get into the car as you sob, barely being able to see due to your tears blurring your vision. You keep driving until you get to the road, and you follow his instructions and keep driving. You can see the house in the distance, up in flames, and you will yourself to keep driving.

Immediately, there's a big explosion, way bigger than the ones before that makes the house exploded. You quickly stop the car, getting out as you scream Hitoshi's name. You cry louder and harder than before, but you suddenly hear something coming up the road. You're quick to get back in the car, speeding off, but there's no way you stop crying.

You make it to a motel once the gas tank is nearly empty. You slowly pull into a parking spot, and you turn the car off, the silence so loud that you can hear your ears ringing. You cry again when your eyes land on the ring on your finger, and your chest heaves before you scream as loud as you can.

You sit in the car crying until your head is pounding, and you find one of Shinsou's sweatshirts on the passenger seat. You grab it before getting out of the car, and you slowly make your way inside. The person at the check-in desk looks completely bored, which you don't blame them since it's around three in the morning, and there's no one out right now.

When you walk up to the desk, their tired eyes widen a bit in surprise as they take you in. You didn't even think about what you probably look like; covered in dust and probably with bruises and cuts, and to top it all off, there's dried and wet tear tracks on your face.

"I, uh, need a room for a couple of days," you whisper, and you rest your hands on the counter as the events hit you again.

"Is it just you?" they ask, and you look at your hand again, your lip trembling as you run your finger over the ring once again.

"My, um--" You take a deep breath, wiping the tears that fall. "My boyfriend is coming soon." Even though you saw the house explode, you still don't believe that he's dead. He wouldn't lie to you. "So, could you just give him a key when he gets here?"

"Y-Yeah, of course," they answer, nodding their head. They check you in, telling you to worry about paying later, and you thank them softly, taking the key and walking to your room.

You get in the shower as soon as you lock the door, wincing when the hot water hits all of the cuts on your body. You can't even look at yourself in the mirror when you get out, drying off before healing yourself up. You put a tank top and some shorts once you think you got everything, and you're glad that you didn't break anything.

You grab Shinsou's sweatshirt, putting it on before you get into bed. You roll over to look out of the window, and you cry again until you fall asleep.

~

For the past couple of days, you've woken up with a headache and terribly swollen eyes. You haven't left the room, only leaving the bed to go to the bathroom. You haven't eaten, but there isn't any part of you that's telling you that you're hungry. You've been staring out the window, watching the animals move the only thing that can keep you from crying until you start to think too much.

Every now and then you take a deep breath of the sweatshirt, as that's the only thing that smells like him that you have. You tried to watch TV, but the first thing that came on was the news reporting about the house explosion. You immediately turned it off as you felt that lump in your throat appear again.

By the time a week has passed, you don't feel any better, but your body is screaming for some food. You forced yourself to eat some snacks, but it definitely wasn't enough. It takes a long time for you to get out of bed, but when you finally do, you make your way to the lobby to eat breakfast. You end up eating a lot, which isn't unexpected since you haven't had any real food in days.

You finish eating quickly since they have the news playing in the lobby, and you can't stand to listen to it anymore. You move the ring across your fingers as you walk back to your room, and you try your best not to cry again. You don't know if your head can take it anymore.

When you get into the room, the first thing you notice is that the bathroom door is closed and the light is on. You frown, immediately on edge, preparing to bolt out of the room. You definitely left it cracked, and you made sure the light was off. Before you can even move, the door swings open, and you're getting ready to bolt until you see who it is.

"How did you manage to get so far? Took me forever to get to this place."

You cross the room in a split second, jumping into Hitoshi's arms as you start to sob again.

"Ouch," he groans, but he hugs you tightly nonetheless. "Take it easy, will ya."

You lift your head up so you can kiss him, your hands trembling as you cup his face. "I-I thought--" You can't even finish, kissing him again until you're out of breath.

He rubs over your face, wiping your tears as he looks over your face. "What'd I tell you, baby?" he prompts. "I'll always find you."

[green-skulls-with-lavender-eyes]

You ever read s fanfic that was so divorced from canon that it wasn’t even enjoyable?

I just remembered a svsss fic where they made sy a terrible person, lbh was actually in love with sj and when sy revealed that he was a Transmigrator lbh killed him to bring back sj.

First of all sj HORRIFICALLY abused lbh

Second lbh fell in love with sqq after sy was transmigrated into him because he was kind to him

Third sy was justified in his dislike of sj because he was a fictional villain who in the original text was one dimensional and once again, horrifically abused his favorite character. There was no evidence in the text that he was anything but a monster.

My fourth point is, you should not hold your fannon of a villain character over a canon mc. It simply is the most brainless thing you could ever post.

I get It! fannon sj is cool and really fun to read about and cannon sy can be a bit of an asshole sometimes but that doesn’t mean you can create such a garbage take as this.

sj is not you UwU soft baby who has never done anything wrong and sy is not the source of all evil.

It’s also a disservice to lbh he isn’t some loser yandere with a teacher kink. He is a complex character who is loyal to his loved ones and harsh to those who wronged him.

If you want to properly enjoy these characters then you have to explore their nuances and flaws. Mxtx put so much thought and effort into these characters and you reduce them into something that can barely be recognizable.

Fanfiction is an art. Something mad by fans for fans so that we can appreciate it together. I understand that sometimes bashing a character is cathartic and can help you enjoy it but why are you consuming a piece of work if you hate every aspect that makes it so good.

I admit that I haven’t really been active in the danmei community for a long time but it still hurts to remember these kinds of things.

[stardewsnail]

Can you write head cannons of how the bachelors would react when jealous? Perhaps they heard their farmer was giving gifts to other bachelors. Can be NSFW. K love you byeee

This is a bit inconsistent because of how familiar I am with them/how interesting I thought their reactions would be–some of these are head canons and some of them are drabbles. Somewhere along the way I realized I switched from they/them pronouns to she/her so I guess this is about a fem farmer now lol–hope you enjoy! 

Bachelors get jealous 

MINORS DNI; cw: sexual activity, jealousy, sad boi hours

Shane 

- very different if he’s with the farmer or not bc I feel like he’s used to being envious of others 

- When he sees the farmer bringing Elliot a bottle of wine or Sam a cactus fruit he feels like he has no valid reason to be jealous. He’s just embarrassed and ashamed of his own feelings.  

- Like, obviously the pretty, successful, kind farmer isn’t going to be interested in him? He’s working at the Joja mart and drinking away his money—he’s barely keeping it together and he comes with a kid. Not exactly the biggest catch

- After the cliffs he had come to terms with his crush and is just sort of leaving it because he cannot imagine her reciprocating his growing feelings. That’s fine, he loves having her in his life regardless. He doesn’t have the expectation that they’ll ever return his feelings and that’s okay. He gets a therapist and focuses on getting better for himself and the others in his life

But if they’re together it’s different

- He retreats into himself and has a bit of a mental spiral (ranging from “it was bound to happen eventually” to “oh god our chickens are going to come from a broken home”) 

- Fortunately he has a therapist to work through things with so he’s able to actually express himself to the farmer in a healthy way and receive the emotional validation that the farmer does in fact love them and their chickens will grow up with parents who love each other 

- He’ll pull her onto his lap or against his chest and if the vibe is right the cuddling might turn into a make out session which might get handsy—Shane is extra needy after all this, lingering through the motions. After sex he stays inside her for a minute, just sharing breath and being as close as possible

- Shane alternates being big and little spoon don’t @ me 

I feel like Shane having a therapist pulls a lot of the “drama” out of him being jealous because he’s so focused on developing healthier coping strategies so him talking about his feelings directly is a big step!

...

Sebastian 

Pre relationship

“Motherfucker-!” Sebastian snarled, watching his avatar die yet again. In his headset Sam groaned, quickly meeting a similar fate. Abigail, now left alone, didn’t fare much better. 

“Okay, it’s 4, I’m calling…” A yawn cut through Sam’s words, “….it.” 

Sebastian winced, glancing at the clock, “Damn—yeah. Night, guys.” It was stupid late. He was going to regret this tomorrow. No, actually, he was already regretting it. Now he was just pissed at the game and at—he shoved that thought down, feeling heat rise to his face. He dropped heavily onto the bed, arm thrown over his eyes. His head hurt. 

And he really didn’t want to deal with the bolt of anger that shocked him when he saw Alex throw his arm around the farmer. Her face was lit up with laughter as they shared some joke—the jock had only touched her for a moment and sure, it might not actually mean anything—but he was jealous. And even a solid nine hours of league had done nothing to subdue the feeling that boiled in his chest. It wasn’t even like the farmer didn’t talk to him either—and while she brought everyone little gifts, he’d had the thought that maybe his were special. A foolish, hopeful thought. Alex was outgoing, athletic, and only still lived at home to care for his grandparents. Sebastian was a twenty-four year old college dropout living in his mom’s basement filling his time with gaming. God, he really was a loser. Fortunately he was unconscious before he really had to deal with that. 

… 

Knock, knock, knock

Sebastian groaned, burrowing farther under his pillow. His mom always woke him up when she made breakfast even if he wasn’t actually required to get up. Maybe later he could ask her what she knew about the farmer. He was pretty sure she was still working on upgrading their coop anyway. It wouldn’t be an odd question. He rolled over, trying to relax back down into sleep. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the second knock sounded. If he ignored it, chances are his mom would leave him be. But then she knocked again, a little harder this time. He swore under his breath as he hauled himself out of bed, not bothering to hit the lights before throwing open the door with more force than strictly necessary. 

The farmer’s hand was still raised to knock and she froze, looking up at him with raised eyebrows. 

Sebastian’s entire brain blue-screened. It crashed. It attempted to restart. It failed. It tried again but all that came up was how he must look—an old band t-shirt, unbrushed hair, stubbled chin, frog-print boxers—holy shit he wasn’t even wearing pants.  

“Good morning!” She said, cheeks pink. It certainly wasn’t morning, that much he knew.  Sebastian wished the floor would swallow him right then and there. “Sam said you guys were up late playing games so I brought you this,” she held up the coffee in her other hand, “Robin said I was fine to come down, I didn’t think you’d be asleep, sorry—“ 

“I needed to get up anyway,” he said, a bit too fast. He ran his hand over his hair, trying to judge its state and was quickly dismayed. Fuck, she was pretty. Great impression Sebastian. Great job. 

“Thank you,” he added, finally accepting the warm paper cup. 

“I started growing coffee beans a while ago,” she continued, fidgeting and definitely noticing his lack of pants, “This is the first of it. Let me know how it is, I’m still experimenting with roasting.”

“Oh wow,” he took a sip realizing not only was the coffee delightful, she’d also added cream and just a touch of sugar–exactly how he took it, “This is really good. Thank you.” 

She lit up, “Oh good! I was hoping you’d like it.” She was hoping he’d like it? Him specifically? The caffeine hadn’t hit him yet, but the taste of coffee still got his brain moving. He noticed the fishing pole sticking out of her pack.

“Are you headed to the lake?” he asked, before he could really think it through.

“Yeah–I wanted to do some fishing,” she rocked on her feet, “I’ll let you get back to it–”

Shit, that hadn’t been his intent.

“D’you want company?” he cut her off, flushing when she just looked up at him with a smile.

“That would be really nice–you can tell me about your game. It sounded fun but I didn’t quite understand when Sam was talking about it.” 

“Great,” he said, “I’ll uh…meet you out there?” He still wasn’t wearing pants.

 Dating 

Sebastian trusted his girlfriend. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that seeing her smile and shyly give Elliot a bottle of her mead had shaken the dust off his old companion, jealousy, and now he didn’t know what to do with the itch in his skin.

He’d spent the day working on his bike, music blasting, a scowl etched on his face. At some point Demetrius had come out to say something, but a glance at Sebastian’s face had him simply turning tail back to the house. 

It was better he got it all out of his system before he met up with the farmer at the saloon. 

Some time and a hot shower later he was entering the saloon, wondering if she had beat him there–and she had. 

And Elliot was there, fawning over the farmer who had a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles as the writer told some dramatic story, talking with animated hands. 

He was across the bar in a second, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his side. The lazy grin he gave Elliot was more a challenge than anything–he didn’t know where this sudden boldness was coming from–Elliot didn’t seem like the type to pull something but there was a primal need to mark his territory. The farmer was his.  

She flashed him a grin, her hand coming to rest in his back pocket, and finished what she was saying. 

“Hey, babe,” she said, pushing to her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips, “I got here early–want to get in some practice before Sam and Abby show up?”

“Need a warm up?” he teased, “Think that will help you beat me?”

“One of these days,” she bumped his hip with her own, “I’m gonna win. Talk to you later, Elliot!” she added. Elliot said something in response before slinking back to where Leah was sitting, watching as if this was her very own reality TV show.

...

Harvey

Harvey wasn’t jealous. The farmer was just a friend–she was kind and generous and liked giving gifts! Most mornings she popped by the clinic to bring him a coffee and chat for a few minutes between appointments. 

It was only natural for her to prefer someone less devoted to their work, younger and more aligned with the pop culture she was familiar with. Sam was a ray of sunshine, and seeing him light up when the farmer had offered him a cactus fruit had sent a spike of something that was not jealousy through his chest. 

He spends all his free time for the next few days pouring over his model planes, completing two kits in record time. Between that and the kids in town catching something nasty and viral, he hadn’t even seen her in a week. Which was fine. 

He hadn’t anticipated her to be waiting right outside the door of the clinic, swinging it open as soon as the lock turned. If he had been any slower, she probably would have hit him with it. Her eyes were piercing as she held out the coffee, a small frown on her face.

“Have you been avoiding me?” her words were blunt and heat rose to his face, hands raised as if that would be enough to convince her of his words. 

“No–no, I just–well–” he swallowed, looking anywhere but her face, “You just seemed busy and like you were spending time with Sam and–” She was giving him this small smile that had his stomach turn to jelly, and now he didn’t know what to do with his hands. She held out the coffee. 

“Want to meet up at the saloon later?”

“Yes!” His reply might have been a bit eager,  but he didn’t care because her face simply lit up. 

“Great, it’s a date.” and then she turned out the door, going on her merry way before he could even process her words. 

...

Alex

- to be honest before they’re dating I think he would just AGGRESSIVELY do push ups where the farmer could see 

- or he’ll make a comment about how hot Haley is looking to the farmer

- Either way he tells Haley about “how well he handled it” and she is so, so tired. 

Alex doesn’t care that the farmer went all the way into the mines to find that special rock for Sebastian. It wasn’t even Sebastian’s birthday or anything, she was just nice and he was not bothered. 

He wasn’t bothered when he was doing push-ups.

He wasn’t bothered when he was squating. 

He wasn’t even bothered while doing his deadlifts. 

And while he showered, he totally wasn’t thinking about how she looked so pleased when she showed him the gem, mentioning that it was Sebastian’s favorite.

Now they were sitting on her bed, watching some movie that he couldn’t quite parse over his churning thoughts. He’d been inching closer and closer without realizing, and now he shifted to rest his head in her lap watching her instead of the movie. 

Immediately her hands found their way to stroke through his hair. She smoothed his brow, and he realized he’d been frowning. 

“What’s up?” she asked, ever perceptive. 

“Nothing,” he replied reflexively, and she paused the movie, waiting for him to continue.

“You…like me, right?” His voice was quiet, and if it wasn’t her he would be too embarrassed to ask such a vulnerable question. 

“I love you, actually.” She said it so casually he took a second to process the confession. Her smile was soft. 

Never one for words over actions, he sat up, closing the distance between them with a kiss.

...

Sam 

- I feel like Sam would try to cover any jealousy with a smile and positive attitude but something about the farmer “doting” on Alex and making him baked salmon really bothered him 

- He asks Shane for advice because that’s his work dad/adult and Shane just looks up at the security camera like it’s the office but does try to give advice because he’s fond of the kid 

- His advice is literally just for Sam to make a move because so help him god if he has to head about the farmers eyes one more time 

...

Elliot 

- He’s in denial that he’s jealous 

- I feel like Elliot’s solution to every emotional problem is writing

- He would probably end up projecting it onto his characters writing a scene where somebody is jealous (because he’s not jealous nope. He’s not jealous at all) 

- He’s a little moodier, a little more sardonic and eventually the farmer asks what’s bugging him–he assures her that it’s just difficulty with his novel

- He doesn’t say he’s jealous nope

- He's just gonna go full Gomez Addams and make love to them in a bit of a frenzy—I’m talking a trail of clothes, fucking her right on his desk.

- He’s leaving hickies, the farmer is being claimed 

- The farmer is being RAVISHED 

- He probably won’t bring it up bc he does trust the farmer completely and knows it’s his own anxiety and the farmer more than reassured him on the reg and he can trust that

...

I’m hiding my dumbass notes waaaaaaay down here

I wrote this while zoinked and made up a whole ass bachelor named Mike and sat there for a good min wondering why I could remember anything about Mike, who the FUCK is Mike????

Am I writing Elliot ravishing the farmer on the desk? Yes, but this reply was getting a little long so it’s coming later

I’ve been a little slow on requests lately, but my spouse is going to be out of town for the next month so I should have a lot more time to working on these :) it brings me such joy every time I get that lil notification, thanks y’all <3

[siriusremusblack]

Ehh..

Ok. Seriously- even if Snape wasn’t a spy for the order or even a death eater to begin with, and just a guy with unresolved traumatic issues in his childhood- why would he be expected to be nice to Harry?

I MEAN. Harry literally took one look at Snape (and Quirrell) in the great hall, felt his scar burn and immediately decided it was Snape’s fault. He didn’t consider that maybe it was another teacher or maybe a student next to him. He immediately thought that Severus Snape was the reason for his scar hurting. There was no evidence to really support that theory other than the burning of the scar.

Not only that- but this student (Harry) repeatedly got in trouble, sassed Sev/talked back, and when Harry did learn that it was really Quirrell that was the one trying to steal the stone and SEVERUS WAS LITERALLY HELPING HIM THE ENTIRE TIME FROM QUIRRELL HIMSELF- he still decided to have that unfair bias towards him.

PLUS, Harry acted similarly to that of James at times (from Sev’s perspective). Strutting around the school as one example- he was also treated similarly to James by the other staff. He’d get in trouble but he wouldn’t receive that bad of a punishment just detentions and he was even rewarded house points.. and not to mention McGonagall breaking the rule of first years not being allowed their own broom for Harry..

Harry also looked very similar to James (his father, for those that don’t know) which was likely a HUGE trigger since James not only Bullied Severus as a child but stalked, harassed, SA’D/S*xually harassed, and almost murdered him. Then there’s the fact that he also had his mother’s eyes, Lily Evans, who was a childhood friend of Sev. One of his only friends until he lost her, twice. Harry looked at Sev all the time with contempt and disdain. He basically hated the man from day one when he originally saw him in the great hall. He had lily’s eyes. Those eyes were the ones staring at Snape with hatred. Everyday. Until Harry finally realized how messed up that actually was in the end.

So yeah. Excuse me, but I don’t see any reason for Sev to even want to be nice to a kid like that. There isn’t any reason to be- especially when he’s dealing with 11-18 year olds on a daily basis, all day. They all have different maturity levels and being a teacher and teaching one grade of students is already hard enough. Imagine teaching multiple grades???? Oh and then there’s the fact he was risking his life for 14+ years (probably closer to 20+ honestly) with barely any actual recognition or appreciation. He was a spy for so long and he had no one. Everyone hated him and for what? Because he was strict? So were the other staff members.

Plus if we also take into account the other aspects of teaching instead of just the actual teaching- that is a lot more work as well. There’s planning assignments, watching over the students, grading assignments and much more- and being a professor you’re always learning the new information that comes in on the subject(s) you’re teaching. There’s also staff meetings. He also had order meetings and death eater meetings. There’s also stocking his potions store, doing detention shifts. We also see that he helps patrol school grounds after curfew so there’s that as well. This man has so many jobs and you expect him to be nice to some bratty 11 year old that immediately decided he was bad? Like what?

And this man is autistic coded (he was based off an autistic man so the likelihood he is autistic is pretty high and practically canon I’d say but that’s my own opinion and a topic for another time) OH and he is canonically extremely traumatized with zero support system and we all know prolonged childhood trauma causes multiple different kinds of disorders that will never go away (but can have symptoms lessened through therapy, which was not made available for Sev.) AND NOT TO MENTION A TEACHERS SALARY IS HORRID. This man does not get payed nearly enough to deal with Hogwarts students, order members, death eaters and the other Hogwarts staff.

GIVE SEV A BREAK ALREADY.