#gets lonely being the god of death lol

[orchideius]

if my life doesn’t get better in two years, I think I will join the 27 club lollll

[prettyboykatsuki]

HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO | PART 2

⊹ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)

⊹ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.

all sexual content present in this part.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF NONCON, COERCION, AND SEXUAL VIOLENCE.

⊹ wc ; 18.4k / 36.1k

link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.

LINK TO PART ONE.

⊹ a/n ; here's part two!! miss ame has read it so im all good to post. i will upload to ao3 as soon as im awake i promise lol. hope you enjoy the fic and please heed the tags. likes and rbs always appreciated. also the last part is, relatively tame. the crazy gets amped up to ten so be careful.

⊹ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.

"You must learn, once you have sampled the freedom of a life without a chain, that it is better to return and be chained again. Or you may learn that it is not—a fugitive is also a kind of dog." - andrew kane, how to be a dog.

⊹ PART TWO : SOMETHING TAKEN IS BORROWED. SOMETHING RUINED IS YOURS. 

Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white. 

Gojo Satoru sits on his hands and watches the blizzard outside from his window. His apartment is dark and there’s frost on his window. He can hear the wind from inside, and can feel the cold chill of glass as he stands close to it.  

Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white. Spring feels like an innocent century ago. 

Nothing’s changed, but everything is different. It’s starting to feel comedic. It’s so cyclical. He has two states of being. Being with you, and not. It dictates his internal world. He functions the same as usual. Repetition. Working, coming home, and waiting. 

Gojo feels like he’s waiting. Perpetually waiting for time to set again so he can see you. There’s something in him only you can fulfill - an itch only you can scratch. Gojo is drawn to irreplaceable people, so perhaps it’s no surprise that he’s latched onto you this way. 

There’s nothing to call it other than greed. Sometimes love, but mostly greed. A habit he can’t break free from. Gojo wants to see you. He doesn’t know why either. There’s not any particular reason. Or if there is, he hasn’t examined it too deeply. Gojo has always known in some innate way that he’s lonely. That his loneliness makes him untouchable - but not in the same way it might make a God. 

The thought of doing anything without you makes paranoia creep up in his throat like bile. Gojo is that sort of lonely. Is it too much to ask to be next to someone, who never goes anywhere he can’t see? Monopolizing your time and all the ways to do it best take up most of his energy. 

When was the last time anyone made him feel warm, in the cold white of winter? He thinks maybe he realized it too late, that he cares about you this much. 

The reality is that Jujutsu Sorcerers are better off learning how to cut their losses. You love people and they die. You like people and they die. Gojo doesn’t think he can accept that from you so easily. He doesn’t think he should have too.

Does he need a good reason to want to keep you?

Gojo doesn’t want to make you hate him. He just wants to make sure you’re alive even if it means you might hate him. You might never understand either. Because you are still foolish, naive and human. Is that really asking for so much?

It makes him hesitate from the call to action. That instinct in his bones. He sees having met you as a blessing from the Heavens who’ve banished him. Gojo Satoru is not god. He understands God, but he’s not God.

No matter how much Gojo reaches for omnipotence, his long fingers can’t stretch towards it. Godliness is uninhabitable, an abandoned house. If Gojo casts his eyes on you for more than one second, he can do nothing but long. How can God long? Perhaps if he were more godlike, he could treat your inevitable death like a sacrifice. A martyrdom, or proof of your undying love for him.

Despite that, he understands how God's love can reach. Inciting violence to bring you closer to him is merciful. It’s only then you’ll come to understand it to the highest extent. That Gojo loves you after all, more than anything mortal in his world. He can hold all of you in his hands, keep you safe for the rest of your life. It’s what he wants so badly. If you just give him the chance to protect you - he could do it so easily. 

Religion can be so much like a dog and its master. Maybe, you could understand Gojo’s feelings if you saw it as an animal instinct to protect you. Even if it’s a falsity, a fictitious tale, detached from what's true. 

He doesn’t want you to hate him. He’s your watch dog, your keeper, your divine love. He needs you all to himself and he needs you to understand that you’re his reprieve. That in a universe decided by fate, the two of you are also red strings knotted together perversely. 

He needs you. He needs you. He needs you. 

Snow is falling. 

__

Come Saturday, Gojo receives a knock on his door. 

He’s usually sleeping in on the weekends, so he’s startled by it. School doesn’t start till later and if it was an emergency relating to sorcery - Yagi would’ve dialed him personally. He answers the door with sleep still in his, rubbing his eyelids as he yawns. He’s dressed in his P.J.’s with his hair messy and mind jumbled. 

He’s not unhappy though, when he opens the door up to see you. You’ve got something in your arms, a bag it looks like and a look on your face that Gojo can’t decipher. 

“Oh,” He says after registering who he’s talking to you “What’re you doing here so early?” 

You sigh, deeply, rubbing your arm. That anxious little habit again, your eyes darting every which way.

“A pipe broke in my apartment. Like, flooded the whole thing. Spent the whole morning scrounging my stuff together a-and I called maintenance but they won’t be here for a while and.” You stutter as you explain yourself and Gojo stares at you in confusion “I need a place to stay but going back to my parents right now is gonna be so hard and plus there’s work,” 

Gojo soothes you silently, putting a hand up. 

“Hey, calm down,” He says first, smiling up at you. He reaches out to pat your head “I’m here. It’s okay. Slow down and tell me what's wrong?” 

You sigh, closing your eyes and bracing yourself. 

“Would it be alright if I stayed with you? Just for a few days, until I figure this all out?” 

If God exists, maybe this is his way of giving Gojo grace. Gojo takes a minute to pretend, leans against his door frame and watches you fidget anxiously. He blinks at you, the way your teeth are pressing into your lip. You fold underneath the pressure of his gaze easily. He hums and haws.

“Hm,” He says, leaving you uncertain for as long as he can before you try to react. He’s memorized all your tells by heart “Well, there’s no reason not to, right? You’ll have to sleep in my bed though.” 

He half-jokes, but not really. He waits on your reaction. 

“Oh, uhm, then,” 

He interrupts just then, raising his voice. You jump back. 

“Just kidding! Of course you can stay with me. I’ll take the couch for a few days so don’t worry your pretty little head about it, okay? Stay as long as you like.” 

You look relieved. It makes Gojo smile a bit watching you take a deep breath, leaning on the door frame as he stares. 

“What?” You ask when you notice. He shakes his head. 

“It’s cute when you get nervous,” He says, inhibitions lowered. You pout at him and Gojo has to stop himself from reaching forward to grab your face in his hands. 

“You’re so mean,” You say with a sigh, arms crossed over your chest “I was really freaking out just now,” 

“I know, I know - but it’s kinda fun watching you fuss. Dunno. Maybe it’s cause I’m sleepy,” 

“You're wide awake right now!” You point out. He snorts. 

“Noo, what? I’m half-asleep right now,” 

“Gojo,” You whine, and he has to stop the blood rushing through his body “Let me in? Please?” 

“Try Satoru. Sa-to-ru,” He says. You frown at him, sighing as you rub your face. 

“Satoru,” You say, hardly getting the syllables out “L-let me in,” 

He pats your head one more time as your frown deepens. 

“Good girl,” He purrs, before switching his tone to a more lax one as he welcomes you “Come on in!” 

Another sigh of relief. Gojo finds it fascinating that you can find relief in his presence. It speaks to how well he’s been doing to make sure he’s acting in accordance to expectations. Despite how easy the opportunity has fallen into him, he doesn’t think it’s time yet. You’re still skittish.

Still, he should get something out of your stay here. And he will, but he should let you settle in first. He gives you a hum as you shuffle inside, standing awkwardly in his living room. He shuts the door behind you and locks it up. 

“Don’t be so stiff,” He says, waving a hand in the air before yawning “My home is your home. Be comfortable. Is there anything you need or wanna do?” 

“Could I borrow your shower?” 

Gojo feels something pressing into his ribs at the idea of you using his things  - sharp and sinful. 

“I was gonna shower this morning but, y’know.” You gesture vaguely. He’s quick to agree of course, nodding his head as he points in the general direction of the bathroom.

“Pretty sure our places are built the same so you should know where it is. The towels on the rack are all clean. Feel free to use anything in there and uhhh,” He scratches his head unsure of what else he needs to add. Though he’s certain he’s missing something “Oh, and I’ll give you some clothes,” 

You flush at the sentiment. So maybe you do know what this seems like, at least on the surface. Gojo peers at you as you turn his words over, interjecting before you have a chance to refuse. 

“Don’t say no,” He says, voice sing-songy. watching your expression morph into something nervous again. Maybe you caught it, because you certainly jump in your skin, but he switches into himself with ease.  Over and over and over - startling you never gets less fun “Let me play out my domestic fantasies a bit as compensation,” 

“That’s a bad joke,” You say, throat thick.

 You want to trust him don’t you? He wants to praise you for that. 

“Aw, c’mon. It’s lonely. Let me indulge a little,” He begs with enough lightheartedness that you don’t run away. 

“Geez. I thought you were popular with the ladies,” You try and joke back, though it’s stilted and awkward. He can tell you’re getting prepared to squeeze to the  bathroom before the conversation is too much. 

“Old ladies do love me,” He says contemplative. You elbow him lightly. 

“Stupid.”

He gives you a soft smile as you pass by him.

“Is there anything else that you need while you’re in there?” 

“I don’t think so,” You reply back. Gojo watches you disappear into the hall, trailing after you silently. He waits, listening carefully for the sound of the shower to turn on. 

When the water rushes, he follows you. 

He almost has a conscious standing in front of the closed door. The water pressure in his apartment is a little higher than it’s supposed to be. The closed walls keep all the noise inside them, making it almost impossible to hear what’s going on outside. Even with heightened senses like him. 

For someone like you, it’s probably impossible. 

It’s knowing that he follows behind you, lying in wait. He counts up to 5  minutes as he waits, letting you settle into it before he puts his hand on the door knob. He finds it unlocked. He’s pleased with that. 

You trust him, or you try too. 

When he feels certain you’re relaxed, he opens the door. He could teleport in but it’s noisy. Steam plumes outward as the door opens. He looks around the bathroom. Your clothes are folded neatly, with your pants hanging on the rack next to you. 

He stares at the fabric for a long time, contemplating what he has time for. 

Ultimately, he suppresses whatever urges come up to do what he came for. Too many to count and even more that are risky to act on. Instead, he checks the tags of each piece, committing it to memory. After, he stares at the shower curtain until he’s sure he overstayed his welcome. 

He leaves right after though, shutting the door just as quietly as he opened it. 

The less you know the better. Gojo makes his way back into the living room. 

He sits on his couch when he’s back. The sun hasn’t come up yet and he’s only turned on a single lamp for light. It’s hard for him to describe how he’s feeling. Things have been different for weeks now, but proceeding normally hasn’t caused him too many issues. Strangely the sense of routine has been grounding. 

He’s been dealing with it better than he expected. For all of that restraint to unravel so quickly is funny.

 But, Gojo thinks, that everything leading up to now must’ve been a sign. There are so many instances that befall him that feel aligned with fate. He’s naive in thinking you're different. He’s the only heir of the Gojo clan, the only one with the Six Eyes for nearly 400 years. He hears the water rush faintly through the walls of his apartment, picturing you trapped in those four walls. He thinks of how you met. Your proximity to each other.

It’s only now and in such circumstances does he think that you’re the due that the universe is paying back to him. Robbed of everything, of every joy he’s ever had - it’s both righteous and fair to take you. Gojo doesn’t want you to hate him. Not necessarily. 

But they always say in sickness and in health. Through the best of times and the worst. If you were made for him like he suspects (like he knows, believes deep down) then he thinks it’ll be fine. As long as it's you. As long as it’s yours. Even if you cry or scream, what matters to Gojo is that it’s yours. That he’s yours. 

Holding back is starting to be too much. Gojo’s never been the type to sit on his hands and wait. Being scared is so much like starving. Deprivation like that always threatens to turn Gojo to ruin. 

But like anything he does though, he can’t take the easy way out. There’s a method to the madness. An order even among his most disorderly actions, there’s things that need to be done the right way for the best possible outcome. On less of a whim than it seems, Gojo decides that he’ll do his best to make that reality happen. 

The thought settles in his body and suddenly he’s present again. He feels a pang of hunger in his stomach, causing him to stand to his feet. He feels lighter as he waltzes into the kitchen, whistling to himself on what he should make. Maybe crepes? He’s not a skilled cook but he’s pretty good at making those. 

At the very least, he thinks you’ll like them too. He proceeds into a normal-ish routine. He follows the motions of making breakfast as he hums to himself silently. Grabs a bowl from the cupboard, eggs and milk from the fridge, and flour from the pantry. 

He thinks to himself, immersing himself in the practical ritual. His comment from earlier about domestic fantasies was a half-joke at best. Gojo really does want to do this kind of thing with you, and he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to play the part either. Even if it’s temporary. He’s giddy at the thought of doing this with you everyday, a warm fluttery feeling spreading through his body. 

He grabs a whisk off of the wall as he dumps everything into an empty bowl, turning the heat of a non-stick low. He whistles a song he can’t remember the name of, cracking an egg on the metal edge. 

Despite living in a nicer part of Tokyo, Gojo has yet to have an induction stove top. It’s not uncommon to have gas for smaller, cheaper apartments. Most of the stovetops in the Jujutsu Tech dorms are gas and Gojo has no issue using them. He doesn’t cook for himself often in the first place, so he’s never thought to complain about it or get it changed. 

Maybe he should. Once you live here, it might get inconvenient. The thing about gas stoves is that they never heat evenly. It’s not impossible to work with, and the heat is easier to control - but induction lets every inch of the pan get hot the same way.

( He often thinks of the analogy for boiling a frog. If you put anything living in heat too directly, it’ll jump to save itself. But if you keep the heat tepid, gently raising the heat till it boils - it’ll let itself stay in the treacherous waters until the very end. It’s best to keep the heat even. It’s best to fix it sometime soon. )

The whisk makes a pleasant sound as it hits the bowl, metallic scratch softened by the presence of batter. He picks the whisk up and watches the yellow liquid drip off the edge, a hand over the pan. Still too cool to the touch, he clicks his teeth. 

He waits, idly. The shower turns off, he hears, and feels his breath hitch. He has to steel himself, curb his enthusiasm. 

Too much heat, and you’ll jump to save yourself. 

Once the pan is hot enough, Gojo busies himself with cooking.  It helps him distract himself, the monotony of pouring and flipping and waiting. He gets through almost 6 before he hears your feet pad gently across his hardwood floor, slipping into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your neck.

You’re wearing what seems like the only clothes you managed to bring. Gojo wonders how long it’ll last you. Despite it, he notices the way you smell. How you smell like all of his fancy bath products and soaps. There’s a twitch in his sweats that he barely gets under control. He lowers the heat and turns to you. 

“Morning,” He says. You giggle a little. 

“Morning. Are you making breakfast?” 

“Yes ma'am. The only thing I know how to make but,” He puffs his chest up “Pretty good, I’m told.” 

You roll your eyes at him, but smile anyway

“Guess I’ll be the judge of that,” 

“The audacity,” He says, full of theatrics “I’ll knock your socks off,” 

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” You say, flippant and giggly. Gojo decides then, maybe, in its entirety. That he’ll have all of you and soon “Can I help with anything?”

“Get started on some coffee maybe,” 

You nod your head and yawn. 

“Sounds good to me,” 

__ 

You decide to stay for a week. 

More precisely, Gojo convinces you to stay for a  week. That’s how long it will take for your apartment to get fixed completely. Concerned about inconveniencing him, you initially suggested 3 days - insisted you could find somewhere else or pay for a hotel for the rest of the time.

But Gojo insisted too. A week is more than fine (even longer would be better) and there’s no reason for you to go out of your way. Hotels are expensive, your parents live out in the countryside, and it’s not like you can’t board with a friend for a few days right? 

But won’t that trouble you? Of course not. Gojo doesn’t mind at all. It’s like having a week-long sleep-over. 

I don’t have the stuff I need. That’s fine. Gojo can take care of it. He already bought some clothes for you, an act of kindness. He can get the rest too. You can consider it a favor, if you really want to be sure. 

Are you sure? Of course he’s sure. More than sure. You’re doing him a big favor, he assures with nothing but affection. Being alone at home is pretty boring, anyways. What’s sleeping in the same room when we’re neighbors? 

Even with your unease, you agree to stay the whole week. You’re weak to being convinced, and hard-pressed on not fighting about things Gojo is adamant on. 

(He’d be stupid not to notice how your earnesty makes you easy to exploit. It’s a good thing it’s only Gojo who knows.) 

The first day passes quietly. You and Gojo go to your respective jobs and greet each other when you get home. At home, things are simple. Domestic. There’s no other way to view it. You graded papers and looked over lesson plans in the living room while Gojo got in his daily sets - TV playing in the background with neither of you particularly tuned in. Gojo sleeps on the couch. 

(He doesn’t make it a day without touching himself. The proximity is too much, too stimulating, and even with all of the restraint in the universe - it’s hard for him to stave it off.  What you don’t know can’t hurt you. Alone under the moon, he thinks of what you look like when you’re embarrassed and spills into his hand. 

Eventually, he’ll graduate to watching over you. You leave the door unlocked because you’re naive and Gojo stands with his cock in his fist, watching intently. You squirm in your sleep but you sleep deeply - because despite all the noise, you don’t stir one even once. He stops it from touching you, so close to your mouth, to your skin. ) 

On the second day of living together, the clothes Gojo bought you come to his door. You’re not home when it arrives, so he waits until you are home to open it with you. You come home a little later than usual (parent-teacher conferences, apparently). 

(“I have a surprise for you!” Gojo says, as finally comes back into the living room. You’ve returned from your shower, on  your last pair of PJ’s. You blink at him softly, tilting your head to one side as he hands you a package. 

“For me?” You ask. Gojo nods, grinning. 

“For you,” He confirms. He walks with you as you set the box onto the coffee table. You stare at it for a minute, glancing up at Gojo. Your eyes search for your keys. Once you find them, you take the sharpest key and rip through the tape on the top of its sides. An unceremonious krrk sounds through the room, echoing in the dimly lit living room. 

The clothes are wrapped in white, plastic packaging. You pick them individually, examining them closely. You look at Gojo again, more uncertain than before.

But Gojo shakes his head, nudging you towards opening the packages themselves. A promise to explain afterwards, silent in the air. You nod, confused, but do as he suggests. You rip the top open, dropping the thin plastic onto the table. More bags, this time clear. You repeat the action until the material flounces in your hands. You undo the careful folding for a minute, then stare at it. 

“...Clothes?” You repeat. 

“Surprise!” He says with his usual silly cadence “For you, free of charge.” 

A lot of things pass over your expression. Gojo watches each of them carefully, amused. He wonders what you’ll do. What you’re thinking, it’s a shame Gojo can’t read your mind.

“How’d you know my size?” You say first, inquisitive but not accusatory. Gojo shrugs. 

“Guessed. We’ve spent enough time together,” He says noncommittally. Your face changes, like you don’t quite believe him. But there’s not enough there for you to question him either. He can almost hear you narrate it in your head. The heart you wear on your sleeve, tender red and bleeding, thumps anxiously as you try to get a read on him. It’s not a sound he dislikes. 

He’s been good to you. He’s just being nice. You shake your head, regretful of your own doubt for a minute. You force a smile, and Gojo doesn’t hate it even though he knows where it comes from. 

The power of love, he thinks almost whimsically. 

“This is a big box. How much stuff did you even get?” You repeat, noticing the contents are up to the top. He feigns indifference. Pretends not to know that he spent countless hours looking over it. 

“Mm, dunno. Just whatever I thought you’d need.” 

“I’m only here for a week, Gojo.” You mutter, hands grazing over the cardboard edge.

“So? Maybe you need a lot of stuff. I don’t know what women go through.” He says with a pout, lips together. Joking with you to lighten the mood, which makes you huff through your nose. 

“You’re so dumb. It’s too much stuff,”

“I already bought it and I don’t feel like returning it,” He tells you, making it clear he’s not going to negotiate “Just think of it as a gift from Santa Claus.”

You snort. 

“You even have the hair,” You reply. Trying to make yourself feel better in the process, Gojo gives you a half smile “Still. I feel like I’m really indebted to you, lately.” 

“Yeah? You can count this week as one big favor, if that makes it easier.” 

“I don’t remember Santa doing favors for people,” You quip. Gojo laughs. 

“Change in management,” 

You laugh a real laugh at that, and Gojo watches you turn the situation over again and again. 

“Well. Thank you. Might as well look through the rest of it, huh?” 

“Take your time,” Gojo says, before checking the digital clock on his wall “I need to go get something from the store. Just leave the empty stuff next to the trash and I’ll take it out tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh, okay. Yeah. I’ll start on dinner. See you, Gojo.” 

“Yeah. See you” ) 

If you notice all the clothes come in shades of blue, you’re smart enough not to say anything. 

The third day passes in a blur. Nothing notable, but he’s content. You wear the clothes Gojo bought you and he’s careful not to stare while you know. He takes it upon himself only to do it when he knows you’re asleep, his nightly routine staring over the bare inches of your body in a dark room being a reprieve of his other desires. 

On the fourth day, he doesn’t have the restraint not to touch you. Too many days in the same room and he wants access to everything already. He hates being patient more than he thought, but there’s a method to this - he has to remind himself. 

Like taking out his aggression, he decides he needs more relief. Something to scratch the itch. With his infinity, you can’t feel his fingers ghosting over your legs. He checks if you’re wearing the other stuff he bought, settled at the bottom of the box. Not lingerie, but panties. Plain and cottony - white over your cunt as you sleep with your leg hiked up. Gojo knows you can’t feel him now, but part of him wants you too. He wants to know why you’re wearing them despite yourself. Gojo realizes too late that he’s interested in your misery just as much as he is everything else, and so far - that discovery has made everything all the more difficult. 

On the fifth day, things proceed the same. There’s a routine you’ve settled into together despite the time limit on it. That night over dinner, you and Gojo spend time together. There’s not really much to do - it’s a Friday. It’s the first time neither of you are completely occupied with any one task. 

You get to talking like that. On the fifth day, Gojo gets as close to opening up as he’s ever gotten in his life. Part of him isn’t sure why he does it. He thinks he’s seeking confirmation for something, but what that could be is lost on him. 

(“So, you’re the only person left in your clan?” You ask, half-way through a glass of tea he’s sure has gone cold by now. The T.V. is on but muted. Gojo looks at you in the low lights, fighting his own sleep.

“Mhm. Technically, I’m the sole heir.” He replies.

“...Is it okay to ask what happened?” 

Gojo laughs at you. You really can’t help your curiosity, but he still finds it amusing.

“It’s not a pretty story,” Gojo says honestly. 

“That’s okay,” You say, voice filled with an air of innocence that Gojo has a hard time wrapping his head around. 

“Most of them were wiped out. We had a lot of enemies, me included. A lot of them are dead, the remaining are somewhere far-away and have no combat abilities.” 

“You included?” You pick up on, naturally. Gojo nods and smiles a little. 

“Once I inherited my technique it was pretty commonplace. I went through a lot of assassination attempts,” He yawns in between, because this is an old, boring story “It took a lot of time for me to get strong enough to where I am now. But I got there eventually.” 

“You say that so easily,” 

Gojo peers at the frown on your face and laughs quietly to himself. 

“It was a long time ago, now. I never really had a lot to mourn, except for when I was a teenager. I’m used to it.” 

For a long time, you remain completely silent. Gojo almost thinks you’re going to cry. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. It’s proof of something. Of his ambivalence towards the idea of sympathy. Sure, it’s meaningless now for someone to feel bad for him. It’s a pointless endeavor, because Gojo is a selfish dick and the strongest - and he knows both of those things intimately. He accepts them as part of himself in the same way, he doesn’t know what he’s like without being frivolous. Without being the strongest. The line between misery and character is paper thin and Gojo hasn’t known it since he was born. 

It’s especially pointless for you to feel bad for him, because he’s going to ruin that very innocence you hold in your heart before the week is over. He’s going to do it with purpose and conviction. He won’t feel remorseful about it at all. 

There’s an irony to it. A dramatic irony that brings him closer to Godliness than he’s ever really been. Because Gojo knows that this conversation is confirmation that he needs you, just as much as he knows he’ll do anything to have you even if it means you can no longer look at him like this. 

He wonders how long you’ll hold sympathy for him. He decides for now, there’s no reason to not lean into it. It makes him happy that you care enough to feel sad. Even if it’s pointless. He doesn’t remember the last time someone did. 

Maybe when he was 17.

“You look like you’re gonna cry.” He says lightheartedly. Sincere in a way he hasn’t been in very well over 10 years. You sniffle. 

“How are you not crying?” 

“I never cry.” Gojo says smoothly, not blinking “I’m a heartless bastard.” 

“That’s not true.” You say, almost exclaim, turning yourself to look at him so seriously. It’s cute, he must admit, that you’re so sure on his character “You’re not heartless,” 

“But I am a bastard,” He clarifies, mischievous. And you pout, less eager to correct him on that 

“...You’re not heartless. Clearly.” You say again. Gojo laughs, a real laugh. He can feel it preemptively, how much he’ll cherish every minute of this conversation. He hums. 

“Oho, you almost sound like you’re defending me.” 

“From yourself, I guess. I know you’re not heartless,” You say, with some kind of clarity that you have him figured out. Maybe you do. It’s a little shocking. It’s not usually how this goes “You’re…weird. But you care” 

“That’s true,” Because it is, and Gojo has no reason to lie to you right now. “More than that, I’m hung up on the idea of the future.” 

“Isn’t it usually being hung-up on the past?” 

“Right? Usually, that’d be the case,” Gojo says, unsure of what to express “But the past is the past. I can’t go back to it. My technique is infinity. It means I can see infinite realities.” 

You sound like the winds been knocked out of you “That’s terrifying,” 

“It is. But you know, even in those realities, the past is the past. There are places where the past hasn’t happened. But it can’t be changed. It becomes part of infinity, when events occur. The only thing that can be changed is the future,” Gojo explains, though he leaves out so many intricacies “There’s a future I want to see. I’d like if my students could see it too,” 

“Because of your friend, right?” 

Gojo smiles. 

“Because of my friend. And for less selfless reasons.” 

“Like?” You ask, curious. 

“I like being able to do whatever I want, without consequences. Being strong lets me do that. For now it’s up to me, but eventually, I can raise strong comrades.” 

You’re silent for a while, again. 

“Seems lonely,” You say, simply. Easily. It’s true, and he knows that. It’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you’ve said it with little regard for anything. Almost mindlessly, a natural response to such a sad story. 

Gojo feels it again. Those stifling, pesky emotions that linger in the cavity of his ribs. He can’t bring himself to be honest, because when does he ever? But he does smile again, a little more melancholy than usual. You notice, certainly, but you have the courtesy not to say a word. 

“You think so?” Gojo says, passive and wilfully ignorant “Does it make you wanna hug and console me?”

He offers it sarcastically, but you don’t tear your eyes away from him. It’s almost enough to shake him. Almost. 

“...A little? You feel like a sad dog in the rain.” You say, too honestly.

“Jeez. Maybe you just miss Pokupan. Thinking about another man right in front of me. I can’t believe I’m the other woman,” He says, with a faux pout. 

You laugh, though it’s laced with sympathy. Gojo can tell you want to fuss. That you want to admonish him for being the way he is, and he’s almost willing to let you. That’s just the thing.

 You see Gojo as human, still. 

Gojo Satoru isn’t God. But he isn’t human either. If you want to know how God lives, asking Gojo is always viable. But you shouldn’t mistake false omnipotence for forgiveness, like you are now. You see Gojo for all of his humanity, but you're blind to his divinely violent tendencies. You will be until it’s too late. 

So, Gojo doesn’t think you need to comfort him how you’re thinking you should. Gojo wants you to depend on him. Because coveting you is an affair distinctly inhuman and crueler than even the heavens could be and he believes that you’re owed to him. 

 Gojo wants to protect this version of you, even at the sake of corrupting it. He doesn’t want to let you go ever, for any reason. And he wont. 

He turns the heat up gently. You’re none-the-wiser. The night swallows you both, but Gojo will remain untouched. He’ll hold you when it inevitably spits you back out. When reality washes into you, you should’ve trusted your gut after all. 

For now, he smiles at you. 

“If it’s any consolation, I’d be very sad if you disappeared.” Which Gojo hopes you can interpret without his interference. It seems like you do, because you smile to yourself. 

“Me too,” You reply. Gojo knows he’s going to ruin you. “I’d be really sad if you disappeared, Gojo. So, don’t, okay?” 

And if Gojo were an honest person, or a good one - he’d tell you you’re the last person who should worry about missing him. That you’ll be seeing him for a long time. 

But he’s neither, just like he’s not god or man. He lightens his tone and holds out his pinky, which you link with his. 

“Scouts honor,”

When he’s ready to look away, you pull a bare thread from Gojo’s clothes. Frowning at him, as you dust away the fabric with your hand. He stares at you. 

“What was that?” 

“You had a thread loose,” You say simply, unconcerned with anything “I just pulled it off.” 

Gojo stares. 

“Yeah. Thanks.”) 

The sixth day passes quickly. Gojo doesn’t think there’s anything worthy of saying. By then the routine is so practiced and so constant. The sixth day passes like a shadow in the night, disappearing through the woods before morning comes. A stepping stone. 

Today is the 7th day. 

On the 7th day, things are different. The same but different as they so often are. You don’t have work today, so you do what you’ve been doing. You and Gojo work in proximity to each other, share meals, and idly watch T.V.  

Night falls on the 7th day.

Gojo wants to take part in the act of creation, as the sun dips below the horizon. He’d set this in motion when the week started and now that it’s here - the anticipation is too much to bear. When Gojo Satoru sets himself out to be conqueror, the universe trembles at the sight of him. There’s no sound at all. The night reeks of death, in Gojo’s presence it trembles. Too fearsome to speak. 

Night falls today. Gojo starts his usual routine with less caution than he’s had the previous six. Where he usually bides his time and enters the room carefully - today he merely enters. He places his hand on the silver handle and pushes it open. A breath rushes from his lungs, adrenaline entering his system as he steps inside. His room has felt so unfamiliar to him lately, but like this - a sense of serenity washes over him. 

He stares at you. With his Six Eyes, with vision clear as ever, Gojo looks onto you as you are now. You can never reconstruct a flower crushed under steel boots. You’re not mud or earth, not adaptable like the sea. From the moment he’s met you - Gojo has known you to be so much like a flower. Gojo has never wanted to take the petals off of something so much in his life. 

And Gojo is in this instance, a natural disaster ready to pluck the root of you up from the ground. He’ll pick you up in a storm but return you to his feet. There’s a method to this. Gojo stares at your silhouette wrapped and tangled in his sheets, body so loosely dressed. Your visible figure rests easy. 

The night is glorious and silent. Gojo watches on in some cross of indifference and utter starvation. He blinks, leans on the wall. 

Like a call from fate, you start to stir awake.

Gojo moves towards you. He decides it might be easier just to join you in bed,  so he gently works himself into the sheets.. He creeps towards you slowly, and re-familiarizes himself with the feeling of his bed. It’d be lost on him for a week, but your presence in it makes it feel especially brand new. The bed dips under his weight, creaking. You shift lethargically, turning your head to look at Gojo. 

You look startled once you realize. For the first time in your entire relationship, it seems to dawn on you that something is wrong. Just a minute too late. He gives you a second to wake up. Your breath hitches, a stifled gasp as you greet Gojo’s expression. 

The hunger in his stomach is gnawing. Gojo feels like he’s starving. He thinks doing this will only half-way relieve the urge. This part of Gojo is inhuman as the rest of him. 

Gojo’s presence suffocates you so much in the moment, you can only barely open your lips to say your next words. 

“What are you doing here?” You sound still innocent. Gojo smiles briefly, under the glow of the moon. He can see your expression clearly. Sleep in your vision. A sheerness to your skin that comes with rest. Your bags are packed, and your things are cleared from his bathroom. You’re still wearing the clothes he bought. 

He knows he shouldn’t think it, but some part of him is vindicated. You’re leaving him today and Gojo finds abandonment to be the highest betrayal of them all. So, he’s vindicated. He licks his teeth, usual mirth coming back to him. 

Then he talks, his voice tender. 

“Getting my debts repaid,” And he means it, more than he’s ever meant anything he’s said “You owe me one, remember?” 

It dawns on you. Realization flickers in your eyes before it twists into fear. Gojo wants to encourage it. A curse starts to form, like tendrils around you. You’ll leave it here when you’re gone in the morning and Gojo will have a piece of you left with him. 

“W-what are you…? What do you mean?” 

He’s shrill, almost, leaning close to you. His sudden proximity makes you freeze. You know better, know so clearly it stops you from running. Gojo is tempted to see if you’ll do it. If you’ll run or if you’ll thrash or if you’ll fight. He’s not particularly sadistic, but he likes you - and he’s curious to know what your reaction will be to something like this. 

He eases you into it, He brushes his knuckles over your cheek as your heart sky-rockets like you’re being hunted. Gojo thinks he ought to be gentle with you. Regardless of how this is happening, it’s your first time together. Your fingers tremble as you reach up to grab his wrist. It seems like you’re trying hard to pull him off, and wiggle away from his grip. You ready yourself to give him push back and Gojo times it so that it seems like you’ll be able to break free. 

But Gojo is strong. Stronger than you by a lot, and you know that by now. When he finds that you’re trying to escape him, he’s quick to grab your wrists with his hands. They both fit perfectly in his palms. He pulls them up over your head and your eyes widen as you feel his grip - near bruising (though he is trying so hard to be gentle) on your body. He stares down at you. 

You look so frightened.

“Wh-what are you..?” 

“You owe me one for letting you stay here, right?” He asks enthusiastically, licking his teeth. Your eyes widen “I’ll take this as compensation, okay? It’s a good deal for us both I think,” 

“I don’t,” You squirm underneath him “I don’t—I,” 

“Shh,” He quiets you, humming softly “Don’t overcomplicate it. Just wanna see you,”

Gojo watches you turn it over in your head. He was wondering about this. What’d you do in these circumstances. If you’d act like you always do, pleasant and pliable trying to do what's best. Damage control for what's coming. 

Gojo pulls his hands away to undress you and yours fly to his shoulder blades. You heave as you push, mumbling something about how he doesn’t need to do this. Your expression is grief-stricken. Gojo soothes you. 

“You can bite, scratch, kick, scream - whatever works,” Gojo says, communicating his affection as best he can. He drives his hands under your shirt, laying his palm flat over the skin of your stomach. He runs his thumbs over your sides, committing every inch of you to memory. Without his infinity, Gojo feels every part of you “It’s not gonna hurt me,” 

You look like you’re at a loss for words. He gives you a warm grin. 

“Maybe we’re going about this all wrong,” Gojo says after some thought “Is this your first time?” 

You whimper, nodding meekly. Gojo  groans against your skin. You flinch. 

“Fuck, course it is. Shoulda known. Such a sheltered girl like you,” He adds the last part with a hint of condescension, watching your face curl up into a frown. 

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing you know,” Gojo is careful as he pulls your shirt higher and higher. Your breath is being held, afraid of what’ll happen if you let g.o “We’re tied together like this. Isn’t that nice?” 

“Gojo,” You say, swallowing something. Words that threaten to bubble up that you can’t find the strength to say. You’re not wearing anything underneath and Gojo feels a chill in his spine “Please,” 

“Not wearing a thing even though you’ve been sleeping at a man's house all week,” He reprimands. He lets the material sit over the swell of your chest, just under your neck where it stays. He can see the outline of your tits clearly now, just enough light from the open window to illuminate your skin. Your nipples are hard, heaving. Gojo can hear your little heartbeat thump against your ribs “I’m not telling you off you know? I’m glad you trust me. Great job, on that really. But you really should be more careful.” 

“Gojo,” You plead again, throaty. The sound goes through his system, sends blood rushing to his cock.  

“Satoru,” He insists on, knowing it will take more than that to convince him “I’ll try and listen to your requests if you say Satoru,” 

He doesn’t promise to stop, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to follow up on it. Still, with the level of desperation you show - Gojo thinks it’s worth it to gain something out of. You follow up his request almost instantly, lips wrapping around the syllables with a weak breath. 

“S-Satoru,” 

He gestures to take your shirt off. You’ve become more pliable, if only a little, letting Gojo see all of you completely bare as he tosses his clothes somewhere onto the floor. Shameless in viewing you, your instincts kick in to cover your chest. He clicks his teeth, pushing your wrists together again over your head. 

“That won’t do,” He coos at you softly “I wanna see you. All of you,” 

You hiccup, sobbing, Gojo reaches his palms towards your breasts, cupping them gently. Your nipples rub against his palms and he groans feeling how soft you are. 

“So pretty,” He admires you. Means it. Gojo lets his gaze catch on the edges and curves of you with enthusiasm. Your chest is sensitive to his touch, thumb and forefinger tweaking and teasing your nipples as you remain underneath him obediently. Your eyes look so watery, soft like lilies in freshwater “So cute,” 

“Satoru, please, I don’t—don’t want—” 

“So ungrateful,” He tsks. He smacks your chest lightly, enough to make you squeal “That’s the only request I can’t listen to,” 

You hiccup, looking away. Gojo hums as he hovers over you, seated over your figure. He pulls his mask off from his eyes, material falling into his fingers. Grabbing your wrists with his palms, he wraps the material around them - tight enough to keep you but with enough room so it doesn’t hurt. He places your hands over your head gently, kissing your covered wrists. 

“Don’t squirm too much, ‘kay? Stay like that. I’ll make you feel good.” 

“I don’t,” 

“Hey,” This time he’s stern, and you slink back into yourself. It’s the first time he’s had to use this tone on you and hopefully the last “What’d I say? You owe me this much, don’t you think? After everything I’ve done for you, the least you can do is not turn me away. It’s not like I wanna do anything bad with you, y’know” 

A pang of guilt passes through you. You stop squirming. Gojo keens, baring his teeth as he smiles. 

“Good girl.” He dips his head to kiss the place under your ear, where your neck meets your jaw. He scrapes his teeth on the skin so you can feel his teeth over your pulse “You learn quick.” 

You keep your arms over your head like he’s asked, hesitant and stiff. Gojo can work with that at least. He leans towards you, tipping your jaw so you’re forced to look at him. Tear-eyed and whimpering, a shudder passes through him. 

“So pretty,” He mumbles. He leans forward, presses his lips to yours - hand resting on the base of your neck. You make a noise of indignance but Gojo keeps you there. He eases you into obedience, forcing his tongue in your mouth, grazing the inside of your mouth. 

He swallows every sound you make. Distress and frustration and reluctance lend themselves to giving in  easily. Your body is sensitive to touch, a trail of goosebumps where his hands touch you. On your waist, trying to ease you into it. 

He pulls away from you, a string of saliva connecting you. 

“First kiss?” He asks. You shy away, clamping your mouth shut. Gojo chuckles, teeth nipping at you “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

You remain silent, so Gojo fills the space. 

“Mm,” Gojo presses kisses down the curve of your jaw, all the way down your neck where he stops and bites - hard enough for something to be there tomorrow. He undresses the rest of you. You try to resist this time too, but Gojo doesn’t bother putting up a show. It’s easy to overpower you. He tugs your shorts off with your panties and tosses them somewhere. Unceremonious and uncharacteristically impatient. 

He takes his time now that you’re all naked. It’s thrilling to watch distress fill your lungs, a ballooned breath and muffled protest. Gojo sucks hickies into your bare skin. It’s only fair to give you something to look at while you’re departed. Your blood rushes, capillaries breaking under the hardness of his incisors  - ridges pushed against your delicate skin. He licks the bruises afterwards, kisses them tenderly. 

“Gonna be a little sore for a while,” He says warmly. You’ve hit the stage of grief where you’re angry and resilient again but one look from Gojo is enough to make you slink back “Might as well enjoy yourself.” 

Despair flashes in your expression. 

“I mean it, you know.” He offers, stating it like he’s trying to appease you “You should relax a little, let it roll off your shoulders.” 

It seems like you register that Gojo is teasing you. He does mean it, about thinking you should enjoy it. Everything else is deliberate and you know as much. It’s good you’re starting to understand him a little better. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” You ask hoarsely. Gojo is surprised by your question. 

“Ah, it’s a secret, so you can’t tell,” He starts. He squeezes the fat of your chest in his palms, silver tongued and playful “I like things that I can keep.” 

A flash of true horror washes over you and you almost go ragged in realization. Weakened in your resolve once glimmering so brightly, Gojo takes the opportunity to please. He kisses down your sternum, runs his hands across the sides of your chest. He presses this thumb against your hardened nipples, rubbing lightly. Gojo takes them into his mouth. He bites then licks like he licks a wound

It pleases him immensely when you respond. When you gasp in a helpless sort of way and go to cover your mouth in shame. A sense of delight washes over his body and he does it again and again. He teases, changes from sucking harshly to lapping oh-so gently on the skin. Over and over until your voice can longer be contained no matter how hard you try - sharp gasps and cries of desire filling the air. 

When he thinks you’re worked up enough, he slots himself against you and nudges your legs apart. He can feel the heat from your bare skin against his body, clothed. How you tremble underneath him. He eases his hand down gently, fingers trailing down to your pussy. 

You hiccup. A sob of defiance stifled with obvious arousal, forced from you so easily. Gojo laughs. 

“You don’t wanna?” He pricks, intentionally. Gojo lets his middle finger ease along your slit, dragging his digits up and through - catching on your achy clit “Are you sure?” 

It’s torture for you. Of course it is. A pretty, sheltered little thing. It’s your first time with something like this and he’s sure all this is too much for you. Even if you tell yourself you don’t want it, your body can’t refuse him. You can’t either, try as you might. That’s why your legs are spread and why you’re practically dripping for him. Gojo thinks of it as admission. Your clit is hard underneath the pad of his middle finger, as he rubs too light and too gently. 

You cry out, pitchy and broken. Gojo laughs. 

“You need it here,” He punctuates, adding enough pressure that you gasp “Need me to touch you here, hm?” 

You shake your head at first. Gojo tucks himself against your chest, sucking the skin gently. 

“Be more honest.” He encourages a mockery as he so barely presses his finger inside of you - threatening to touch but never doing it “What do you want?” 

“Don’t, I don’t.” You say, or you try. 

“Liar,” He snips playfully against your clavicle “Your pretty little pussy is dripping wet and you want me to believe that?” 

Gojo smacks your cunt softly. Once, then twice, then three times for good measure as you cry. 

“C’mon,” He encourages meanly “Tell me what you really want.”

It’s a sick little mind game that Gojo is having too much fun playing with you. 

“P-please,” You stutter, so unbelievably broken with so little done to you at all. Gojo will take all of you at a later time. When you’re thoroughly pliable and broken and so beautiful all for him “Please.” 

So dependent like Gojo always thinks you should be. 

“Please what, hm? What are you asking for?” 

You swallow thickly. All your dread and doubt and disbelief gone as a sense of real and true need ignites within you. Of course this is too much for you. Gojo overwhelmed you like this on purpose. The resentment of wanting despite it all, despite how miserable you are makes for something so tragically Gojo’s. Whatever you have in your heart will always be for him. Good or bad, ugly or beautiful - like this you are all his and so perfectly too. It’s titillating, the sensation of control that wisps around him. It strikes him like a hammer on hot iron.

Gojo wants you to say it. Wants your selfless  little heart to beg for his mercy this once. You’ll understand some time later, that this is how Gojo loves. Selfish and twisted. Cruel. Intimate beyond mortal comprehension. All of him just for you, just like this. 

Strangely, it's perfect. Gojo teases you some more. Toys with your clit and feels a pool of arousal rush and drip from your sore cunt. He hits it with the palm of his hands as you try to form the words. You tremble in his arms, a vestige of your will to resist. 

You want to resist so badly, he can tell. But it hurts now to leave it alone and you want it despite yourself. It makes you so frustrated you cry. Limp, crystal tears down your face that Gojo licks up nearly immediately. Salty and bitter. Gojo kisses the apples of your cheek, nose nudging your skin. 

“So cute when you give up.” Gojo praises sincerely. You sob somewhere deep inside of your “Be good and be honest. I’ll reward you, hm? How’s that?” 

Gojo can feel the moment you give in completely. When acceptance settles over your hazy and contorted mind. You let the tides take you, curling into yourself.  A sound like you’re in pain even though you’re not hurt. 

“Please touch me.” You whisper, hoarse and defeated. Gojo laughs airy, peppering your face with kisses. You wince. 

“Good girl.” He coos, dipping his fingers down lower and lower. Heel of his palms pressed into your swollen, needy clit “That’s all you had to do. Easy, right?” 

You scowl at him (you try too).

“Open your legs, baby,” 

You listen this time, opening your legs wide enough for him to touch. Your pussy is so wet for him. Sticky and soft like you’ll fall apart, Gojo thinks it feels divine, wants to squeeze and grope and touch until you’re disintegrated. He likes feeling you like this. Vocal chords strung tight, all the noises throaty and gone. You throb against him like you’re begging. Gojo doesn’t stand to let you acclimate, flipping between three fingers in a gentle rub to a soft and well-practiced spank. 

Only when your words start to come out t0gether, like you’re spitting them out because they fill your mouth  too quick - does Gojo bless you with any mercy. He lets his hands sink lower, deeper - until his middle finger brushes your twitching hole. Your breath hitches, and the hands once stuck to your side, reach for Gojo’s hard to hold. 

He licks his teeth, some unspoken feeling sending an bullet through him as he feels your body resist. Needy thing you are and so untouched that even the point of your middle finger makes your breath slower. You’re wet enough he doesn’t need anything else to aid him. He pushes in slow, slow, slow - painstakingly carefully as your wetness envelops you. 

Because he intends to cherish you in his own way, he resists the urge he feels to flip you right over and take you. He’s being kind, and you’ll realize it later - when you’ve adjusted to him a bit more and know when to pick your fights. If he didn’t think it’d ruin the set-up, he’d have flipped you on your back just feeling. Fucked you without any consideration, just to feel your pussy around him in a vice grip. 

It’s all he can picture, but he shows restraint. He’ll fuck himself off on you when you’re sleeping maybe, just to scratch the urge. You might pass out before then. 

He comes back to you like that, a promise to himself to give the relief he needs with the body he finds oh-so tempting. He pushes his perversion aside to touch you. You let out a little sound every time he fucks himself deeper, gets his middle finger down to the first bend the all the way to the knuckle. 

When he thinks you’re adjusted - ready for more, he gives it to you without making you plead. He uses his ring finger this time - his longest ones and feels you stretch around. He groans, deep and appreciative, as he feels how tight you are. You preen, squeeze your thighs together and call his name 

“Oh, Satoru, its.” 

He shushes you before busying himself with tasting your skin. Closes his mouth around one of your tits as he repeats the process. In, in, in until he’s all the way to his knuckles. Fucks you till it’s easy, till you’re wanting more. 

If he were more merciful, a good man or a better one - he’d stop here. He doesn’t though. A third finger has your eyes widening. You gasp. Gojo kisses your face again and again. 

“Easy, easy,” He coos, voice coarse but encouraging “It’s a good exercise for the future.” 

You don’t register the words and Gojo doesn’t expect you to. Even still, he thinks giving you the heads up is quite nice. 

Three fingers proves to be more than enough. It pushes you to an edge he has seen before. He fucks you with three. Your mouth falls open, slack jawed. Gojo curls his fingers. He rubs up like he’s motioning for you to come here, deep enough until he feels it. That spongy spot inside of you, apparent through the sounds you start to make as he touches it. 

He hits something of a stride like that, finger fucking you with pressure on your clit and his mouth on your skin. Gojo takes to watching you once he knows he’s getting you to that edge. Your body stiffens underneath him, breathing going noticeably shallow. Mouth wobbly, lower lip trembling. He can tell you’re feeling it, just as much as you’re resisting it. Gojo coaxes you by whispering against your skin. 

“C’mon,” He hums, nudging his nose to your neck “You wanna cum don’t you? I can tell you. You too scared? Need me to help you.” 

You whimper “Aah, aah,” Gojo can feel you pulse. Can feel your insides tighten. He’s doing it on purpose, tipping you just over the edge. He wants to hear you beg. Wants to know what it sounds like when you beg for him. He fucks into you slowly, until you’re no longer able to put on a show of being composed. 

“S-sato—oh, please, oh—please m-make me,” 

“Want me to making you cum? Say it. Say, ‘Satoru, please make me cum,’ can you do that?” 

A bitter sob leaves your lips and Gojo can’t think straight. It strains you. 

“S-satoru, pleasemakemecum—please.” 

Gojo grins. “Of course I can,” He quickens his pace enough to make you feel it. Your eyes shoot open before screwing closed again “All you had to do was ask me.” 

He watches you intently. How you fall apart under his fingers, delirious whimpers of no, no, no - even though you begged so sweetly a minute ago. He hums as he feels the walls of your pussy start to tremble, a soft squelching sound hastened now. You say something he can’t decipher, words too jumbled for him to make sense. Gojo stares hard. Lets the infinity bleed away so he can feel you just like this, feel you cum on his fingers despite everything. 

He feels giddy to the point he’s sick with it, moaning as your hands grip at the roots of his hair. He kisses your breast tenderly, just over the latest lovemark. 

“Don’t hate me too much, kay,” Gojo says, whispering, means it so you carry it with you because he can feel the resentment nudged so deep into your heart by now “Come on. Cum for me, sweet girl. Want you to feel so good.” 

And so you do. You cry, scream - but the noise amounts to nothing. A cosmic thing, like you’ve been struck by a comet. Gojo fingers you through it, absolutely delighted at the hot rush of liquid that comes pouring out of you. Your first orgasm from him and you’re squirting all over his fucking wrists, soaking his sheets and his arms and his PJ’s with your back curved in a beautiful arch. You break apart in an almost violent way, like the pleasure’s vicious. It tears into you and you succumb with a whimper. 

Gojo shushes you as you break down finally into a teeny, tiny sob. You must be exhausted because you don’t pull away when he comforts you, despite the little angry why, why, why that you whisper. You hit his chest softly. He kisses your forehead and listens as your breathing goes still and you fall asleep in a heart-beart, still curled up into his bed and too tired to run away or go anywhere. 

He stays with you like that, relishing in the warmth of your body until you’re deep asleep. He flips you onto the side of the bed that isn’t wet, and presses a kiss to your forehead before moving out of the sheets. . 

When he stands to his feet, it’s to collect the curse that’s gathered itself on the foot of the bed. It manifests as a white snake with blue-eyes. Gojo finds himself amused. Of course the curse you’ve made is pretty. Gojo grabs it by the neck, watching it as it pries its mouth open and bares his fangs at him. He grins, pricking himself on the teeth to see if it makes him bleed. 

It hisses loudly before wrapping itself around Gojo’s arm. It doesn’t take any effort to subjugate it, sensing his power it stills with some effort. Gojo tilts his head as he walks out of the room, glancing at you before turning his head back at the snake. 

“Better warm up to me,” He whispers in the dark, a contentment to his words “You won’t be seeing your mama for a while,” 

—

Communication stills. 

Radio silence, more like - a busy bunch of messages deftly still. Suddenly, a raging storm of grief and anger disappears. The morning after Gojo assaults you, he wakes up to see you off like nothings happened. 

He mostly does this because he wants to see what you’ll do.

You spend the morning perplexed and confused. You eat breakfast with him. You sit at the table, contemplative and silent and Gojo chats away at you idly. About the news and the weather and the classes he has today. You chew your food but don’t taste. You listen but your replies are short and stilted - out of touch. 

Gojo learns that when something bad happens to you, you respond to it by detaching yourself. Though yesterday you were hot and fiery, the day after you seem to be mourning. Your grieving process starts early, and Gojo thinks rather amused—that you remind him a lot of himself.

He thinks you’re a little closer now that you understand the apathy of losing something that can never come back. And once this whole thing is over, once you find yourself back here - he’ll tell you all about it. You get it now right? It’s painful to feel like you can never be the same. 

They say that mankind was fashioned from their Lord. Gojo supposes he’s made you in his image. You look a little empty, and though you’re both so different - you can become close by having the same wound. You can understand him a little more this way, all while retaining your sense of resilience.

What is mankind not known for if not perseverance? Of course he knows, once you recover from your grief, you’ll return to your usual spitfire. He’s counting on it, counting on you to fight and run. Escape from him and never come back. 

But that cat and mouse game is more than okay. Gojo isn’t looking for your obedience, really. You’re too defiant of a character. Gojo thinks it’d be pointless if you’d just stayed the same.

You need to have hope to stay the way you are. Thus, Gojo doesn’t plan to rob you of it. He figures it’s best to give you breathing room. After all, he has full confidence in his ability to find you. He could hear the rhythm of your heart a continent away and chase it down without thinking twice. But it’s better if you’re able to show him some resistance. He thinks of it like a compromise. That sort of thing is typical for married folks, he thinks. He gives and you take. 

Eventually, you might realize that the endeavor of running away is fruitless. Maybe you’ll be clever enough to recognize that it’s not that you’re succeeding, but that Gojo is letting you. You’re definitely smart enough to do so early, but just stubborn enough to believe that there’s hope in spite of that. If you try hard enough, persevere a little more, etc. 

Gojo likes this part of you. Always will. You always put your best in everything and this is his own way of nurturing it. 

It’d be a shame to take that from you. Gojo has remained out of your sight for the time being to try and reinstate it. While he raises the curse up in his apartment, he watches you through windows and flitters into your bedroom to peer at you before disappearing again. He makes sure that you can’t sense him or that he’s gone before you can. The more ease you feel, the easier everything else will go. 

Feeding the curse you’ve left behind in his house has been taking most of its time. It’s obedient to him since he’s strong, and it’s big now. Longer and wider and more sinister looking (he feels a weird affection for it, maybe just because it’s from you), more hostile. He’s been careful to maintain it. Too much feeding will make it overgrown. 

It’s currently on Gojo’s floor, on a dog bed like a disobedient pet - all in a single coil. He has to be careful not to endanger you by making it too strong or giving it too much range. It’s just meant to be a showpiece - a prop at best and a scraped knee at worst.

He’s been building it up for a long time. Then, though, it wasn’t such a clear desire. He figured sewing seeds of fear in you would benefit you in a different way. But that’s fine. The means don’t matter as much as the ends and in doing so - he’s made this all sort of seamless. 

It’s not a complicated plan, ultimately. He’ll tell the curse to let loose, freak you out a little, and eventually - you’ll call the only person you know who knows how to handle it. Gojo will save you, and when you’re finally caught in his arms, you’ll have a little reunion amongst yourselves. He’ll reprimand you (but only lightly) and you’ll thrash (but only for a little while) and then he’ll keep you by his side again. 

Except this time he won’t be so quick to let go. He’s sure you’ll protest (and be all gung-ho about it). He’ll feign cruelty and push you to the edge. Whatever response you do have, he’s thought of a way to reply. 

A way to tend to it. 

Like any relationship, things take time. He’s not expecting this to settle right away - but he’s confident eventually it’ll work out how he wants too. Gojo can make that happen as long as you’re within view. 

He watches you through the window as you come in from your classes. You’re dressed up today despite the chilly weather - a blouse and nice pants with bangles on your wrist. He wonders what the occasion is given the time of year. Your bag is hanging loosely off of your shoulder - having only just returned. 

A sense of warmth spreads through him as he peers at you, a smile on his face. He really does like looking at you quite a bit. 

The curse hisses at the sense of your presence and Gojo waves a hand at it to keep it quiet. 

“Calm down or I’ll exercise you right away,” Gojo says coldly. It retracts itself. “I’m getting impatient, too, you know? It’s been a long time.” He says wistfully. 

He keeps looking until you’ve effectively disappeared from his sight. He listens for you outside of his door. The sound of the building buzzer, soft footsteps, and the slight jiggle and turn of keys before you’ve gone in - sound by a dull thump. 

He leans against the wall near his door where he was listening, eyes up at the ceiling as he turns over his options. He should wait it out a little longer. Giving everything enough room to mellow out before it picks up again is an important part of the process. 

But he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait. Plus, keeping this curse around is starting to be troublesome. He’d much prefer you back in his arms, in his bed - all back to that kind domestic fantasy that he’d been thinking about again for weeks. 

He supposes there’s no right decision, in this case. Just what he wants to do, versus what he should do, and some kind of middle ground he’s been spending too long looking for. 

He stands to his feet, no longer leaning on the wall before glancing at the curse from the corner of his eyes. 

“Today seems like it’s too soon yet too far,” Gojo pauses between sentences, scratching his head woefully “But it should be okay, right?” 

__ 

At 7pm, the curse slips underneath the door of his apartment into the hallway. Gojo sits comfortably in his living room, one leg crossed over the other with his phone in hand, a warm mug of tea cooling on his coffee table. 

The news is playing. A general and loose sense of anticipation fills him as he pays attention to the newscaster. Another storm is going to hit and the temperatures are dropping to an impossible low. Officials recommend buying bottled water and keeping warm as it continues to blow out. 

There’s a soft hiss as the muscled curse squeezes itself underneath the tight crack of his door. It’s unfortunate he can’t monitor it directly. Though the instructions ( and subsequently the consequences of disobedience) were made clear - curses are greedy as they are stupid. This one in particular seems to be self-aware enough not to try to go against Gojo’s word. 

So, when the time comes he sits patiently and waits. Watches the news. His ears itch and his skin pricks as he listens for the first whisper of your voice. He wonders if you’ll scream. You didn’t when he thought you should’ve but maybe there's a reason for you to do so now. 

The clock ticks away. It’s unceremonious. Gojo thinks to himself that maybe this entire thing is esoteric. Capturing you is a tragedy that he writes to himself and he’ll re-tell it to you all the time in different ways. 

The clock ticks. Again and again, the monotony is starting to settle in. Time moves slower than you could imagine. Like trying to pipe honey into straw, thick and impossible. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

At 7:02, a dog barks outside. It sounds cagey, and it’s not Pokupan because Gojo knows what that mutt sounds like. Nor is it cosmic. It does sound desperate, though - like asking someone to be let in. And if Gojo didn’t have such a pressing matter to attend to, he’d go outside and do it himself. After all the wind is frosty and the air is unforgiving and winter devours things so slowly it's painful. 

Gojo can’t abandon his task. It’s too important for him to stick his neck out for a being he doesn’t even know. He hopes briefly that it survives. That someone lets it in before it gets anymore violent (or desperate or willing) 

At 7:03, he reaches for the tea on his coffee table to drink it. It’s still piping hot, but Gojo can swallow it with his infinity. He does for a reason he can’t name. It’s just a compulsion, inspired by the fact it will probably be too cold when he comes back for it. He thinks, instinctively, that he should cherish the warmth in the glass despite the barrier that prevents him from feeling it. Ultimately it’s still milk tea. It will still fill his stomach and taste vaguely sweet where he permits. He ought to drink it when it’s warm even if it’s just an illusion. 

The clock ticks again, this time to 7:04 and Gojo regains a sense of bravado that’s riveting. There’s a commercial airing now for a new type of kitchen gadget, an airfryer with more settings than any one person knows what to do with. The advertiser is enthusiastic and loud. He wonders what happens when it switches to the next one. Do actors on set feel awkward when the cameras turn off? He knows a thing or two about performing, which is why he finds himself so curious. 

At 7:05, the first whisper of your pleading filters through the hallways. Though Gojo figures he’s not meant to be able to hear it - because however vague it is, the sense of shame that it holds is hard to ignore. Despite his urge to run to you, Gojo is reminded of the fact he is teaching you a lesson and this is all a show for you and in a way for him too. There’s timings and cues and calls, so Gojo lets your first prayer get passed through the winter winds. He’s sure it gets dropped off somewhere in the snow. 

The dog outside bares its teeth and barks louder than before. 

At 7:06, the feelings of fear and negativity start to weasel their way into his apartment. Through cracks in the floorboards and the aeration in the spackle - he can feel it come through his door and penetrate his being like waves of wind. With no barrier and no filter, your fear is a familiar presence in his life. It comes to a crescendo as he leans his head back on the couch and blinks up at the ceiling. He’s pleased with it so far. It’s proving to be just right. All the months of delicate orchestration have culminated into such a lovely overture. A symphony of sobs. It enchants him like a bird song, or maybe the whistle of a blizzard. 

He waits for it to die down. He waits for it to start back up again. He waits for the sniffling to become sobs and for the sobs to become demands and for the demands to go back to sniffles. He waits for the dog outside to be let in because he can hear the buzz of the gates all the way from his apartment. 

When Gojo has had enough of waiting, it’s 7:15 sharp. 

He stands to his feet and walks through his door with not so much as a look back. The T.V. is still playing where he fazes out and he leaves it because this will be quick and easy. 

You’re right across the hall. The walk is short. The building moans like it’s dead. 

He stands in front of your door and presses his ears to it and there’s some semblance of an altercation. Mostly the sounds of shattered glass. 

If you were any more familiar with this world, you’d know the thing is stalling. It has harmful intent but Gojo’s presence is too risky. If you knew anything about anything, then you’d know you were never in any real danger and even calling Gojo’s name when you hate it so much now would be pointless. 

But Gojo has done his due diligence in keeping you in the fateful dark. 

So this part is easy. He reaches for the door but it’s locked, so he teleports. 

When he enters, your apartment is in terrible shape. The curse itself notices his presence but does not stop to act. He stops to take a look around. He figures you’re cornered and holed up in your bedroom. A trembling figure in the corner praying for God to save you. 

Your house is effectively thrashed like there’s been a robbery. He’ll have to make up something in the report. Officials will come, but they won’t question his word. All the glass is broken and scattered and everything is torn up. Papers ripped and fabric shredded. 

(The stuff Gojo demanded not to be touched has remained that way. Even he’s not so much of a monster to ruin your students' keepsakes. He’s sure you’ll look relieved when he returns them to you later. How kind he is.) 

He prepares himself like an actor might for a role. He thinks of the lines he’s practiced and the way things will play out. This simple, choreographed tragedy. A manifestation of your fears. Gojo thinks that he is probably good at becoming the thing people love yet resent. 

He’s sure you and Suguru would have a lot to talk about in another life. 

He checks the time on your digital clock, left unscatched in all the destruction. 

At 7:18, Gojo phases himself into your bedroom like he’s only just arrived. He hears you gasp in a sharp fear that quickly breaks into a sob of relief. He glances at you where he stands. He’s never been in your room. Kind of a waste it’s happening like this. 

The first thing he does is check if the door is locked. When he finds that it is, he laughs to himself but covers his face before he turns to you. You are exactly how he predicts. Something curled tightly into your fists, fearful and backed into a corner. He coos internally. At what he's done to you. How this has played out. 

It wasn’t enough to break you a little. This part is necessary. 

Like he starts most interrogations off, he asks you question.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, Satoru.” Your voice sounds shattered in such a way he finds it almost hard to stomach “Oh, it’s—Oh it’s you.” 

“Happy to see me, huh?” He says, tilting his head. You close your eyes instead of replying. 

“H-how’d you…?” 

“I can feel cursed energy,” He says, and it’s not untrue “I felt something very strange in your apartment. It’s been a while.” 

You still can’t find it in yourself to say anything. Maybe desperate, maybe afraid, maybe exhausted by your own paranoia - you relent. 

“Yeah.” You say. Gojo can feel the curse grow impatient. It lets out a loud hiss and you gasp in fear.

“Hey, you didn’t answer. Are you okay?” 

You stare at Gojo for a long time. 

“I’m not hurt but,” You swallow thickly. Upon looking at you closely, you look exhausted. He feels a little sorry for you. He’ll let you rest for a while when you’re home “I’m s-scared.” 

“You’re right to be scared,” Gojo says, and he means it a little. Not about the curse, but in general “It’s a pretty powerful class. A special grade, probably. You share cursed energy.” 

You look agape as he relays this to you. 

“Share…?” 

Gojo gives you a look. He can feel the creature coming towards you door down, slinking across the wood slowly. A coy, soft smile appears on his expression as he reaches down for you. You flinch from his hands but Gojo doesn’t falter. He strokes his thumb across your cheeks, peering at your eyes and how they reflect light from the outside. 

“It was made with your cursed energy,” Gojo explains very gently to you. You look at him in disbelief “Curses are negative emotions. So something like this isn’t uncommon. No idea how it got so strong, though. But that’s all your.” 

He watches you closely as a wave of horror settles over you. A nauseous feeling that has you cupping your hand over your mouth like you’re ready to throw-up. He masks a smile, but he doesn’t condescend you. Not openly, at least. Not to the extent he would like too. He reprimands you like a teacher - a sensei and his beloved mentee. 

“I told you didn’t I,” Gojo says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as you quell your own disgust at the thought “You have to be careful. And you can’t fight all by yourself, so you’re kind of helpless. What were you gonna do if I wasn’t around?” 

You look like you’re going to cry. Gojo keeps going. 

“You can’t call the police, you know. They can’t help you at all. Good for nothing bunch, really.” Gojo states, gesturing vaguely. He tugs his masks off of his eyes so you can get a better look at him “But you can rely on me if you need to. I’ll always protect you. Next time just give me a call, okay?” 

It must dawn on you, just then, what exactly Gojo is doing. Or some extent of this is hitting you for the very first time. The look on your face is picture perfect. It’s exactly what he wanted. An understanding he’d be hoping for for so long it’s unbelievable. 

“I’m the only one who can keep you safe, understand?” But he’s not really asking. You know that too “Can you nod your head and agree?” He pricks. You don’t hold back your tears but you don’t cry them either. You break down  silently nd you nod. 

Gojo reaches down and wipes them off for you. 

“Don’t be so sad,” He says to you, and he means it because what a shame it would be to wallow too much on such a nice day. Winter is for warming up next to your loved ones, isn’t it? “I’ll protect you now.” 

Left with no choice, you nod again slowly and clutch your pillow. Gojo kisses the crown of your head and leaves you to untangle your feelings. 

Then, almost on cue, the curse itself bursts through the door. The wood breaks off with the hinges. 

It’s really a weak thing. If Gojo was trying to keep his powers contained, he might’ve put up more of a fight as it lunges at him in your bedroom. It knocks over your things left and right but he’s mostly busy trying to muffle the noises so he doesn’t disturb the neighbors.

 It’s as fast as a gust of wind as he strikes out, neck elongated and jaw as unhinged as far as it can go. This time, Gojo can feel the weight of its desire to kill. A rampant sense of bloodlust in it’s every action, Gojo dodges each attempt and swipe at him. He leaves a barrier over you temporarily so that it can do you no harm.

It doesn’t go for you either. He figures maybe it has some understanding of its own predicament. Desperate animals can be clever too. Perhaps those things have always been linked together. 

But he figures a fair-ish fight is as much as Gojo can do to stave the thing off before he sends it off officially. Plus, he can feel you watching his back - like you’re trying to measure how strong he is. It’s a smart thing to do. You’re learning. It’s probably better to show you now, since there’s not much left to hide. 

So this time, when the snake comes flying towards him - Gojo reaches his hands out. He uses his infinity to stop it in its place. A noise of anger leaves its mouth, a low hiss as it hits the wall in front of him. Wide blue eyes stare at Gojo, a predator with its fangs bared. 

Gojo stares back, a predator with its fangs bared.

He uses a reversal of his Limitless, the infinite blue. The creature is pulled into him closely, crashing first into the space he’s created before disappearing into nothing but smoke and ash. It’s gone just as quickly as it happened. A curse so inferior, it can’t have been more than ten minutes to fight even with all the purposeful delays Gojo set in place to finish it off. 

It��s gone now, the product of you and him. A weird part of him is sad. But now he has you, so he cuts his losses. Now there is only you and Gojo, and a ruined bedroom and broken apartment. 

Gojo, who has no intention of enlightening you, turns his back to look at you. 

“Don’t know how long it’ll be gone but,” He shrugs, rolling his shoulder and cracking his spine “But it’s gone for now. Some officials will be here in the morning but with the way this place is, you might wanna come back to stay with me for a while.” 

This is all a formality. He’s sure you know too, but instead of turning away - you’re shivering figure wavers in the dark. You’re terrified enough to reach for his hand and hold it. You know what’s coming, but that knowing does nothing to save you. You were a victim to fate from the moment you met. Yet, you still look to him for comfort in safety because even knowing better, there isn’t anything you can do. 

And it’s just like you, to want to trust and forgive him. To reach your hand out hesitantly and try. Everything is tangled up and you are terrified and Gojo Satoru loves you. 

“Come on,” He says, encouraging you to get closer. He reaches over your bed to scoop you into his arms and you don’t do so much as protest “Let’s go home.” 

__

Gojo brings you home quietly. 

When he enters, the T.V. is still on. You are curled up in his arms. He has no idea how long you’ve been crying and about what in particular - but that’s okay. Tonight, to him, is something like an anniversary. Like any time before, he has no intentions to treat you roughly. 

It’s a good night, he thinks. Even in the state you’re in, Gojo can only think of making it even more memorable. You’re an injured thing in his arms. A delicate bird with clipped wings, or a butterfly with a missing antenna. Without Gojo there to pick you up in all your broken pieces, you might’ve really fallen apart. 

It’s reasonable enough. For someone like you, he’s sure tonight has been so scary. It makes him feel a little sorry for you. It makes him want to make it all worse before he makes it all better. 

He can’t describe it, but there is something so right about seeing you like this. 

All angry and resentful and volatile. All lonely and scared and saddened and somber. All Gojo’s forever, permanently through everything. He’s made you so completely in his image, something he’s always wanted to do. Maybe you’re a trial run, in its own right, of all the things Gojo will be able to do in the future. What he’s capable of creating with enough effort. 

Gojo is gentle to you. Tender, as he carries you into the apartment. You help him turn off the T.V. and put the mug into the sink. He carries you too afterwards, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple, before pulling through the threshold of his bedroom. 

Just like that, you find yourself again in Gojo’s bedroom like you were so many weeks prior. You’re weakened and exhausted, so willing that he is endeared. Like this, he hovers over you. Looks at your tearstained face and smiles so lovingly. 

Regardless of everything that’s transpired, above all - this is a reunion of two lovers to Gojo Satoru. So in the midst of it, he wipes your tears and kisses your cheek and you don’t pull away. Now you’re so ruined you relish his comfort if only a little, and this time it’s perfect. It’s everything he’s always imagined. 

He’ll give you hope and freedom and let you be. Eventually, you’ll come to realize you’ll always need him a little. And it doesn’t matter, does it? That he’s made it that way on his own. Because it’s true. It’s righteous and religious and godly. Gojo Satoru is not god, but he does understand the urge to make something that listens. 

He kisses your soft cheeks and hums at you, nose nudging your skin. 

“Still feel like crying?” He asks you. You blink up at him like you’re only just now realizing where you are. Some emotion overwhelms you, but ultimately you shake your head no. Gojo grins impishly. 

“That’s good,” He says tenderly. He kisses your lips this time, and you kiss back. It catches him off guard but he doesn’t dislike it “You didn’t get hurt did you? And now we’re together again.” 

This does seem to incite waterworks in you but you don’t look like you have the energy to cry. He doesn’t push you too much. Though it is fun seeing you like this, Gojo is grateful he has some time to cherish you. 

“Scary world out there, y’know?” Gojo says between kisses. He adjusts you, your arms around his shoulders loosely “Hold onto me okay? I’ll make it all better.” 

You whimper under your voice but don’t go to thrash. There’s something about you that feels limp. A spirit softened and dampened, like wet soil. Gojo is okay with anything as long as it’s you, and there is some part of this he likes too. How pliant you become under the weight of your fear, so tantalizing to Gojo he can’t help himself but kiss you.  Riper than the fruit of Eden. Just as sweet.

He kisses you for longer than necessary. It’s intimate and hopeful. All tangled hands and pulling different parts of you up to his lips.The occasional press of his teeth in your skin, with his senses so high he can practically feel the blood rush through them. Your mouth is soft and warm, the breadth of mint on your tongue. He pushes his tongue past your lips but this time around, you don’t do anything to refuse it. 

So accepting like this. Gojo thinks life with you will prove to be exciting. 

He rests his hands on your waist and you don’t pull away from him. Such soft skin covered in a sheer layer of sweat. It’s making him dizzy to have you like this, to kiss you in his bed. Again, again, again. You belong here with him and nothing has ever been so true. The euphoria of everything is overwhelming. He can’t get enough of you. Even if in the moment he carved a spot into you forever and buried himself there, he cannot help but want to be spoiled by your lenience and affection. He can’t help himself but to possess all of you so even time cannot spoil iit. 

Despite yourself, you touch Gojo back gently. Knowing you, it is a way to deal with the pain. You want to forgive him as much as you want him to save you. You hate him as much as you love him. 

From the beginning, everything has been exactly like this. This was the end of all ends. 

This is a lesson in divine truth. 

You’ve made Gojo this way as much as he’s made you. If Gojo Satoru is to play as God, then he supposes you are much like an owner. Some part of you has made him love you unconditionally. A dog and his master. An animal with a love so violent it shakes windows. Gojo Satoru makes you love him through violent means, and like a dog left abandoned in the snow - your own empathy for his unconditional but broken love makes you protect him. It’s cyclical. It can never change because the universe has ordained it. Because everything Gojo touches is a divination from the heavens. 

Where Suguru proves to be a lesson, you are the dues he is owed. 

This is a lesson in divine truth. 

More simply, Gojo Satoru loves you in his own way. Any loyal dog will chase its owner no matter how far they run. He lives for you, after all. He’s made you in his image. The difference between god and dog is nothing more than a matter of positioning. 

You love him back in your own way. Because his character and his tragedy makes it so difficult to abandon him  and your disposition will never allow you. You’ll hate and resent him. You’ll grieve and you’ll cry. You will want to turn your back but he will always come to save you. And who can love you so loyally as a dog undisciplined? Who can keep your sheltered being protected like a wild hound?

Spring was an innocent century ago. Winter is here. Gojo loves you. 

“My birthday passed recently,” He tells you. You blink at him. 

“Oh?” 

“Can you guess what I want?” 

You don’t do much more than nod. It’s not permissive. You just know better by now, and that too is not something Gojo finds himself pleased with. 

“You don’t have to do any work,” He offers you as a reprieve, busying himself once again with undressing you. You’re still wearing the clothes he bought you all those weeks ago “Just don’t run away from me.” 

If you notice how heavy the words are, you’re smart enough not to do anything. Even still, Gojo can’t tell if there's a purpose behind it. Perhaps you just know it instinctively not to. 

He takes you apart carefully. Careful, thick fingers unbuttoning the front of your shirt. You’re wearing nothing underneath, and the sight of your bare skin is almost too much for him. The hickies have yet to heal, though now they’re yellow and softened by time. Gojo will have to leave more to bring back all the color to you. 

He starts at your jaw this time, teeth against your earlobe. Heart in your hands, he knows your body a little better now. 

And he takes his time with it this time too. Even slower than before. Even more consuming, even more adoring. 

He laps his tongue against your soft skin and eats. Your skin is salty and sweet and Gojo can’t contain himself. He gropes you lightly, planing his palms over your shoulders and squeezing your breasts tight. He’s missed touching you more than he knows what to do with. 

Even in being gentle, there’s little he can stop himself from trying to devour. You lay about him squirming as he undoes each and every part of you. He can’t pick which place to go and what thing to do first because he wants so wholly. It’s making his head spin to listen to your sweet and short whimpers. You spread yourself as you lay under him, hands pinned to your sides - demure and needy. 

How different it is but the same. Something about how you’re clinging to him so desperately is making him feel sick with lust. 

Instead of going any further, he pulls away from you momentarily. He puts his arms on your sides and flips you over till you’re on top of him

The sudden change in position leaves you gasping for air. Gojo gives you an amused grin as you fall forward - as he props himself up on pillows while you try and steady himself. He holds you close to him once you’re all set, face to face like this.

“Don’t run away from me,” He says, more seriously. You swallow. Gojo lets you up until you’re half-way over him. You’re so much weaker than him, moved and manhandled so easily. There’s a target on your back so often and Gojo loves being an arrow. 

He kisses the side of your body as you stand on your knees beside him. His fingers hook into your shorts and panties, sliding them off of your body all in a fell swoop. He squeezes your ass slightly, spreading you apart.

“Look at you all bent over for me,” He coos, hands reaching underneath you to toy with your pussy. You whine, shuddering, clinging to his shoulders. “So pretty, baby. Prettiest girl.” 

A hiccup bobs in your throat. Gojo moves his fingers lower and lower, familiar now with the feel of you. Your cunt is just as welcoming as he remembers. The idea of making love sends a shiver through his whole body. Blood rushes to his cock like a bolt of lightning in his veins. He pushes his middle finger into your twitching, needy hole. 

Another sound, cut off by a garbled word of surprise, falls out of your mouth. You’re soaking. Ripe for taking. Gojo wants to fuck you more than anything.

He takes a deep breath, whispering to your skin. 

“Fuck,” He laughs, giggling at the thought of it “I’m gonna break you, huh? Gotta be—shit, need to be extra careful with you, right my love?” 

“Please be gentle.” You say at his request.

“Of course, of course but—” He squeezes your hip as he feels his middle finger go into you down to the knuckle. You roll your hips against him involuntarily  “You just—you’d look so good so full of my cock, y’know? Been thinkin’ about it for weeks.” 

And he has, means every word. You shudder at the confession. He quirks his lips as he fucks into you, relishing in those pretty little sounds that fall out of your lips. 

“You like that?” He grunts, another finger to stretch you out a little more for him “You like when I tell you about all the dirty things you make me think about?” 

Shame fills you, like Gojo’s lit a match under you. He can feel your heartbeat pick up. Is it the being so wanted or is it the crassness and humiliation? Maybe both. Sometime later he’ll pick it apart more closely. He lets himself talk you through it, so close to your skin as he whispers all the filth to you that he can. Confesses it to you. 

“Weeks and weeks, baby. Couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect and wet you would feel when I finally took you like this. Gonna make it so good for you, you won’t have to think about anything else again.” 

The promise sends you limp. When Gojo finally feels both of his fingers slide in and out of you with no resistance at all, he sighs lightly and pulls away. The loss of contact makes you whine, but he brings you back to his lap now, sitting with your legs on either side of his. 

His cock, clothed and restrained in his sweats, swells against your wet cunt. He watches your eyes widen as you stare at it, lucid enough this time to realize what it looks like. He looks up at you, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

“C’mon. You can look.” 

He guides you to the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull his pants down slowly, looking up for permission (which Gojo gives in a loving nod) before taking his boxers off too. His cock is so hard it’s almost painful. The tip is a flush red, white hairs trimmed neat at the base and feeling so fucking heavy Gojo can’t stand it. He hisses as your hands reach for him instinctively, and you try to pull away before he stops you. 

“Touch it, sweetheart” He encourages, wrapping your hand around it for you “Feel it? That’s all you.” 

A flush graces your features. For a minute, it’s all love and nothing more. Nothing less. Too briefly for it to mean anything, but enough for Gojo to know it. You wrap your hands around his shaft and stroke tentatively and Gojo groans shamelessly into you, rutting his hips into the round part of your palms. 

“Fuck that’s it,”

He looks at your expression, examining the concentration before chuckling. Your lip is poked out, eyes dazed. He pulls away from you, securing you close to him. 

With the new proximity, he holds his cock close to you. Measure it up against your skin, against your tummy. He feels you against him, Around him, folds nudging apart for him, The skin on skin alone has him so breathless. A dizzy sort of feeling as he presses the tip of his cock hard against your clit. You feel like silk around him. 

Looking at you like this, all helpless and needy, he can’t help but think about how easily he can overpower you. He’s stronger and bigger. His cock would be enough to split you in half. How he’s gonna make himself fit inside of you spins in his mind over and over. Maybe like always, your pretty little pussy will yield just for him. You’ll open and endure and take him so deep. 

He can’t help appreciating it. Can’t keep his thoughts quiet from telling you. 

“See that? How deep I’m gonna go?” He measures up to you. A hand on the bottom of your stomach, stroking his thumb “Gonna feel me right in here. You ready?” 

You close your eyes and look away. Gojo grabs your chin and tuts at you. 

“Nuh-uh. Want you to see. Don’t close your eyes.”  

It’s not a question or a request. 

So, you watch. Gojo lifts you up just enough to line up with your entrance and sinks you down so, so slowly on his cock. It’s agonizing how slow. It’s incredible how fucking good you feel. How perfect one sensation could possibly fucking be - Gojo could die here in complete bliss. He can feel the stretch of your pussy trying to accommodate. That sensation of resistance that sends him reeling, spine tingling and skin prickling with a heat so intense he feels like he’s going to pass out just sitting there. 

And then there’s looking at you, which proves to be an entirely new animal. You have this pinched expression, a shocked little gasp as Gojo pushes through. A whimper leaves your lips. Gojo rubs his thumb on your lower lip as he eases you down. 

“Hurt too much?” 

“N-no. Just… feels weird.” 

He laughs a little at your honesty, before fucking himself into you even deeper. Another inch and he really starts to feel you. Your walls feel like they’re sucking him and Gojo wouldn’t leave if it killed him. He groans, deep in his chest as you shake. Your grip on his shoulders gets tighter and tighter. 

With one more smooth thrust, Gojo sits you down on his cock completely. He feels so complete like this. Everything in him is at ease feeling your insides spasm and melt around him. He sighs contentedly.

“Still okay?” 

You nod weakly. 

“Can I move?” 

Your reply is nothing more than a whimper.

So he does, but he does so slowly. Just to get into the rhythm. He thrusts up slowly. 

‘O-oh. Oh, oh it’s,” 

He chuckles against the crook of your neck, hugging you close to him. He loves the way you feel against his body, the way your frame fits so perfectly into him. He rolls his hips up into you so there’s no effort on you to move. You whine that time, and he does again and again until your voice is a mess. 

“Starting to feel good?” 

“S-satoru.” 

He swears. 

“Fuck, stop that,” He swears “Gonna—shit, gonna cum right away. Moving so hold onto me tight, baby.” 

You take his words for it. Gojo feels your soft tits pressed into his chest as he pulls your hips up and starts fucking up into you. Each time he does, he feels like he can feel all the way to the back of you. None of his fantasies could compare to the feeling of being this deep inside, cock nudging against that sweet spot that keeps making you fucking mewl into his ear. He can hardly take it as it is now, focusing hard on not cumming until you do.

Making it good for you is his priority. Always has been, but you make it hard for him like you do most things. 

“Touch yourself for me, okay?” 

You look at him surprised but listen to his request regardless. Gojo takes to fucking you steadily. He builds an even rhythm as he keeps you up, hands firm on your hips as he pistons you from underneath. The pleasure comes in waves, undulates as blood continues to rush to his cock. He’s so hard he can’t think straight but he keeps each of his thrusts consistent, lines them with the pace you play with your clit so he can encourage you to cum for him. 

He can tell you’re starting to feel good when your mouth falls agape. He drags on your walls with each punctuated movement and your thighs shake and tense. Everything comes together so slowly but the pleasure comes at once. It’s a force that’s nearly earth shattering. All the planets aligned, everything in the same plane. Everything for him and for you. For the togetherness he’s created and chased after so long.

Now this part of you is all his too. 

“Sa—Satoru,” You warn, your hands trembling and fingers cramped up with need. He grunts as he stares up at you through thrusts “G-gonna…” 

“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock? Go on. Know you can do it, baby. So good for me. Perfect for me.” 

It’s all babbling for him now, the sensation hitting him in waves. Your mouth falls agape and you cum so hard Gojo can feel every fucking pulse. Squeezing his cock hard enough he wants to grit his teeth. He presses his mouth to yours instead as you moan out, unable to hold it in. He swallows every noise like he’s trying to embed them into himself.

You cum hard and fast and Gojo is so quick to follow you. Only seconds after you fall limp into his arms does he feel it - no longer able to stave off the urge to cum so deep in you it stays forever. To mark you deeply you never think of anything. It’s almost animalistic for him. Every nerve on his body is on fire as he shoots his cum deep into you, sitting you on his dick with nowhere for you to go. 

Panting, he pulls back to gaze on you. He’s still hard as he’s twitching. He can’t hold off tonight, he doesn’t think. But he’ll give you a minute to collect yourself. He presses a kiss to your hairline. 

He whispers softly as the night comes to a quiet, quiet still. 

“I’m yours and you’re mine baby. Forever and always.” 

You shake. And Gojo knows you well enough to know that it’s the resentment coming back in waves. But that’s okay, because Gojo loves you. 

And with this, he’s taken everything.

EPILOGUE / OVERTURE : 

Your senses are accustomed to Gojo by now. 

You never thought such a day would come. You spent the first year of this relationship (if you can call it that, to begin with) in trenches so deep you couldn’t really tell left from right. So many things persisted as normal, but nothing was ever the same. 

In that, though, Gojo stayed by your side till the bitter end. He nursed you back into health and sometimes treated you so kindly that you could almost forget who you were dealing with. Sometimes the weight of everything became too heavy. You think you love Gojo almost as much as you hate him.

But it doesn’t particularly matter what your feelings are. Has it ever, in any of this? You always knew that something was strange but you didn’t think you were so clueless. Blindly following wherever his voice took you. 

The first time you try to escape Gojo feels like so long ago. That time, he let you go quite far. You made it out of the house and even went out of the country during summer. But you were sloppy and inexperienced. When he found you and brought you back home, you figured it had been a fluke. You’d learn from it. You’d do it again and that time you would succeed. 

That’s what you told yourself anyway. It’s how this all started. Where you would run, and Gojo would let you before he started to miss you. He’d come and he’d discipline but it was never too cruel. 

(You wished it were. You wished it were sickly and sadistic and tortuous. You think it’s so much worse to beg for mercy when you are sobbing from pleasure. For Gojo to coddle and sedate you and never yield. You think you’d prefer if he were just out of it. Just cruel instead of what he is. Which is knowing but certain. Justified.) 

This has been the farthest you’ve ever gotten. You don’t think you’ve ever been this far away from home. A cabin in the woods where you lived peacefully for days. You don’t know how Gojo found you. 

You had been so sure. This was it. It had to be it. 

Your heart shatters as you hear him. Feel him in your bones so much it frightens you. The world is covered in a sheet of white, and your ankles are bruised  and bleeding from where you’ve fallen. You’re cold and your heart is beating so loud - but no matter how much you run you can’t find any heartbeat to motivate you.

Gojo pulls through the thickets with a frown on his face. Blue eyes and black coat, his feet crunch the snow as he comes towards you. You crawl away. You try too, anyways. 

Gojo leans down to your level, looking at you closely. He reaches out to brush snow away from your skin. 

“My birthdays soon, you know?” He hums, not angry today. Not even wanting to discipline you “It’s not a bad place, y’know? The cabin. We can spend some time there before we go home. Might be nice. But we should get going so we can check on your foot.” 

He reaches his hand out to you this time. Too injured to run, you take it and he smiles before offering to carry you on his back. You hop on, arms around his neck and don’t even cry. A numbness settles. 

It is not the cold. 

“Oh, look,” Gojo says, reaching his hands out “Snow’s falling.” 

You suppose it is. Another Winter will pass just like this. 

A dog howls somewhere far off in the distance.

[kurogane2512]

this is a weird request but how would you favourite characters in any game(S) react to your death ? Just genuinely curious LOL

Ooh very interesting. I know some will react more intensely than others, while some would have that "silent but internally dying" reaction. I also believe the reactions would differ depending on the method of death. Here's what I could categorize~

HEAVY ANGST AHEAD WITH TW THEMES

Ok so I think it's obvious that Signora would have the most devastating reaction and I hate to imagine that oh god 😭😭 To have this happen a second time would surely destroy her, even worse if it's similar to the previous experience where she was too late to save her love. I think.... I think she will not want to live anymore and would kill herself 😭 Nothing matters now, there's nothing that can give her hope anymore, be it Tsaritsa or whatever she doesn't care anymore....

Another one to have a devastating reaction would be Chameleon I feel. It's the pattern of already having lost closed loved ones before, I know these people would breakdown. We already know how far Chameleon went to seek revenge for her parents' death, if you are killed by someone else then she will not hold back at all... If it's more on the line of natural causes then she'd pretend to be fine but she's clearly out of it for a long time...

Ningguang's reaction would be similar to when the Jade Chamber was destroyed. She has a position and status to maintain so she'd do her utmost to appear fine on the outside, she'd process the death so much and try to console herself until she reaches her breaking point and loudly cries in her room. She'd look over all the gifts she ever bought for you and would hold them close to her heart and cry out more, but in the end she knows she has to bounce back soon...

Lisa would be angry, surprisingly. She's another one to hide her true emotions at first, others like Jean and Kaeya may try to comfort her and she always acts her usual flirty self. I imagine when she first got the news of your death, she was so angry and hurt that purple sparks fly around her as she'd look down and hide her face with her hat. She curses herself for not being there to save you, all this knowledge and power she has becomes useless if she couldn't even save you...

Cabernet would have a very.... twisted reaction, to say the least. I know she would be sad, but for a different reason. It's the fact that she can't have your soul anymore. If she finds you in a dying state then she'd definitely take your soul and preserve it for as long as she wants, it's the biggest temptation she'd hold back. She'll only eat your preserved soul as her last meal, to have you as the last taste on her tongue and both of you die together. If she's unable to preserve your soul then she might even try to get into some resurrection stuff just to extract your soul at least....

Cocolia would have 2 different reactions. If she's affected by the Stellaron then she'd honor your sacrifice and try to achieve her goal even more, using your death as a motivator. If it's normal Supreme Guardian Cocolia then she'd be similar to Ningguang, appearing strong and balanced on the outside but breaking down in private. She'd look over your memories together and promise to fulfill all that you wanted for Belobog....

Himeko would become reserved and detached for a while. She'd continue doing her duties like normal, but it's easy to tell her mind is diverted and there's nothing much that can be done. She'd feel very lonely once again, she'd look over the stars and think of you all the time. She may lose interest in her hobbies since she got so used to doing them with you, she'd silently cry in private a lot...

Eirene would be pretty indifferent. Yes, she did love you a lot that was never a lie. But she has bigger goals, she had hoped to accomplish them with you but she will now continue on her own. She will do it for you too, she won't cry but she will promise to do everything you wanted. If you were killed by a rival of hers then she'll be merciless, she will have revenge and destroy them for sure. She will never let your death become her weakness.

[hyperactively-me]

Hear me out for King! Ghost…the kingdom is under attack and (Y/N) is trying to find Simon through the chaos. She finds him in the castle garden, on the ground with the enemy standing over him with their sword raised. The next thing (Y/N) sees is her driving her sword into the enemy’s back, killing them. When she realizes Simon is okay, it dawns on her that she has killed a person…I’ll leave it up to you finish this prompt.

Btw your king! Ghost fic has had me on a chokehold it is SO good

thank you for the compliment :) i'm not fully satisfied with this, so i hope y'all like it lol

(noncanon)

king!ghost x reader -- like you've seen a ghost warnings: physical violence, descriptions of death, injuries/blood, heavy angst; this is NOT canon

How did it end up like this?

How were Kastron's forces overpowered, leading to the castle getting infiltrated and overran by enemy forces?

The first signs of trouble came when the castle guards, stationed at key points, were ambushed from within. Chaos erupted as the enemy struck swiftly and decisively, disabling communication and creating confusion amongst the guards and knights within the palace. Betrayed from within, the castle fell into disarray, and panic spread like a wildfire.

Simon shoves a sword in your hand and forces you into a closet, your fingers trembling around the hilt as Simon's urgent eyes bore into yours. "Remember what you've learned," he says, motioning to the sword in your hand. "And, for the love of God, do not move from this spot."

He presses a fleeting kiss to your lips, then shoots you a final lingering gaze before he slips his skull balaclava over his face.

As the closet door closes behind you, the muffled sounds of chaos outside become amplified in the suffocating darkness. The minutes crawl by like hours as you strain to hear any sign of Simon's return or the advancing enemy forces. The closet offers a stifling refuge, and each passing second intensifies the pounding of your heart. The distant echoes of the struggle outside seem to become more muffled.

A sudden hush falls over the room, and you feel a shiver crawl down your spine. The eerie silence is shattered by the creaking of the closet door as you cautiously open it, the cool air of the corridor rushing in. You twist your sword in your grip, angling it in a way that would let you strike anyone who came across you. You emerge from the closet into a scene of devastation—broken armor scattered across the stone floor, the faint scent of blood lingering in the air.

With trepidation, you move through the corridors, heart racing in your chest. There was no one to be found, not even a single knight.

As you round a corner, you stumble upon a grisly scene—the lifeless bodies of Kastron's guards and enemy fighters, the remnants of a fierce battle. Bile rises in your throat, panic gripping your chest, and you quicken your pace, desperate to find Simon. You don't dare call out for anyone in fear that the enemy will attack you.

Dizziness washes over you as you run down the corridor, stumbling upon the double doors that lead to the gardens. Outside the doors, you can hear yelling and the clashing of swords.

Simon wouldn't want you out here, you know it, but how could you stand by whilst Kastron is being invaded? The need to protect your home was overwhelming, so you stood as straight as you could before stepping outside. You shake your head, steadying your breathing as you push open the doors. The clash of steel and anguished cries intensify as you step outside, your grip on the sword tightening. The scent of crushed flowers and damp earth fills the air as you push open the doors, incongruous to the bloodshed within the castle walls.

No one seems to notice you, too caught up in their personal battles and one-on-one combat.

Your eyes dart between the people fighting, searching desperately for any sign of Simon.

In the midst of the tumult, you spot him, a lone figure fending off multiple adversaries. His movements are swift and purposeful, each strike of his sword fatal.

Until now, you've never seen Simon engaged in battle. Of course, you had heard tales of his skills and prowess before you even got married, but witnessing him in action sends chills down your spine. The stories did not do justice to the raw power and grace with which he moved through the battlefield.

You don't know whether you want to beg him to stop or stay back and observe. His skull balaclava looks even more menacing and deadly than ever.

Simon's blade is deadly, each swing and parry precise, calculated, and unforgiving. Each strike finds its mark, taking down each assailant efficiently, knocking them down one by one. Once he finishes off the hoard of people, he takes a shuddered breath, standing up tall as he surveys his surroundings.

Unbeknownst to him, one person had snuck up behind him, kicking Simon down with a loud thump.

The world seems to freeze for a moment as Simon crumples to the ground, caught off guard by the unexpected attack.

"No," you whisper to yourself, eyes going wide at the person pushing your husband to the ground.

Your heart skips a beat, and instinct propels you forward. The enemy, emboldened by their surprise attack, raises their sword for a final, fatal strike.

Time slows as you charge towards them, the sword in your hand cutting through the air. The enemy, unaware of your presence until now, turns too late to defend themself from your onslaught. Your strike stabs straight through their back, a fatal blow.

The enemy gasps, dropping their sword before they could drive it into Simon's chest. They crumble to the ground, lifeless.

Your action hits you like a tsunami, and you stumble backwards, breathless. The world blurs around you as guilt and horror consumes your senses. He looks up, his eyes registering surprise and relief as he sees you unharmed.

Simon's voice pierces through the chaos as he rasps your name once, twice. You still don't fully register that he's calling for you, saying your name.

The ground beneath your feet feels unsteady, and you gasp for air, caught in the grip of a suffocating terror. You sink to your knees, the reality of what you did crashing over you. Your sword slips from your fingers, clattering on the ground. Your attention finally snaps back to Simon, who is still on the ground, momentarily incapacitated. He's struggling to rise, but determination glints in his eyes.

"Simon," you manage to croak, the taste of bile in your throat. You crawl towards him, desperate to reach him and make sure he's okay.

"I told you to stay in the closet," he manages to say.

But you can't comprehend his words. Panic tightens its grip around your chest, and your vision blurs with tears.

"I had to protect you," you whisper, the words barely audible over the din of the ongoing conflict. But the justification feels hollow, and a heavy weight settles in the pits of your chest.

You reach Simon, your trembling hands desperately searching for any sign of injury. His skin under his armor is battered and bruised, and thin trail of blood escapes from a tiny cut on his forearm, but other than that he's fine. The sight of the trickle of blood sends a surge of naseua through you, and you clutch his arm, as much for your own support as for his.

"Simon, I- I..." you stammer, unable to form words. Your eyes dart from his forehead to the attacker laying lifeless on the grass next to you two. Simon's gaze follows yours, and there's a silent understanding in his eyes.

"We need to move," Simon urges, his voice penetrating the disorienting fog in your mind. He starts to stand up, yanking your arm along with him.

You still don't move, too caught up in the way blood seeps into the earth.

"We have to go," Simon insists, his grip on your arm firm. The touch feels distant and disconnected. The urgency in his eyes is undeniable, and you force yourself to nod, pushing back the emotions that threaten to engulf you.

Simon's grip tightens as he pulls you up from the ground, dragging you by your arm harshly. You glance once more at the fallen enemy, anxiety gripping at your heart.

Together, you and Simon stagger away from the battleground unnoticed, moving through the castle's corridors. Simon's pace is brisk, purposeful, but the tension in his movements is palpable. He's still on high alert, ready to defend himself and you from any potential threats.

As you reach his study, Simon locks the door behind him and releases his grip on your arm. He moves to the bookshelf against the far wall and shoves it aside, grunting as he moves it. Behind the wall is a stone door, heavily fortified. With another aggressive movement, he's able to shove the door open, throwing his shoulder against it.

The hidden door reveals a dimly lit room. Simon motions for you to follow him, and you do so without a word. The air in the room is cool, carrying the scent of damp stone.

Simon leads the way with a determined stride, his jaw set. He pulls his balaclava off, revealing the frustration and concern on his face.

Simon finally turns to you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he speaks.

"What were you thinking?" Simon's voice is low, his words weighted with disappointment. "I told you to stay in the closet, to keep yourself hidden."

Your eyes dart down, guilt and fear rendering you speechless. The images of the lifeless enemy you just struck down replays in your mind, each moment tormenting your senses. You feel trapped, and panic continues to tighten its grip on your chest.

"I... I couldn't just stay there. I had to do something," you stammer, your voice barely audible, tears now freely flowing down your cheeks.

Simon's gaze doesn't waver, his expression stern. Still, he reaches out to cup your face, swiping away some of your tears with his thumb. "You were meant to stay hidden, not to charge into the middle of the fuckin' battlefield. You put yourself at risk, and you put me at risk. I can't protect you if you don't follow orders."

Numbly, you manage to nod, your eyes finally meeting Simon's.

Guilt gnaws at you, a heavy lump in your throat. The reality of your impulsive actions sinks in, and the consequences unfold in Simon's disapproving eyes. You tremble, unable to shake the vivid images from your mind; the smell of the blood, the way it felt when your sword pierced through the person.

You start to breathe rapidly, the small room closing in on you. Everything feels too big, too much—

Simon's stern expression softens, replaced by genuine concern as he sees the panic taking hold of you. He leads you to a dingy chair in the corner of the room and he crouches in front of you, his hands gently holding yours.

"Easy now, love," Simon murmurs, his voice calm as he breaks through the fog of your panic. "Focus on your breathing. In and out. Slowly."

The panic continues to claw at your throat, choking on your tears and inability to get enough air to your lungs. You follow his lead, trying to match your breaths with his. The rhythmic inhales and exhales provide an anchor, helping to alleviate the panic that threatens to consume you. Slowly, you try to regain control over your breathing, clinging to the physical sensation.

"Thas' it," Simon encourages, his voice low. "In and out. We're safe."

Gradually, the tightness in your chest begins to ease, and the room seems a little less suffocating.

"I know it's a lot to comprehend right now—"

"I killed someone," you whisper, voice shaky and raw, tears welling up in your eyes once more. Simon doesn't move an inch.

His gaze doesn't waver, and he maintains a steady grip on your hands. "I know," he says softly, his voice a comforting anchor in the chaos. "It was self-defense, dove."

"I was trying to protect you," you mutter, your eyes dropping to the ground.

A sigh escapes Simon, and he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. "You had to protect yourself and, by extension, me. It's a brutal reality, but it's the world we find ourselves in right now."

You look up at him, searching for any sign of anger or blame in his eyes, but all you find is understanding. He pulls you into a reassuring embrace, his arms enveloping you as if to shield you from the harshness of the outside world.

"You did what you had to do to protect me," Simon murmurs against your hair. "But, charging into battle like that... it was reckless. I can't lose you."

You swallow thickly, squeezing his hand. Simon's thumb brushes against your knuckles, a gesture of both comfort and concern.

"I trust you, I do. But I need you to trust me," Simon continues.

He pulls away slightly, holding your face gently between his hands. His eyes search yours for assurance, a plea for understanding. "We're in this together, and I need you safe. Promise me, even if things get hard, you'll follow the plan and trust that I'll come for you."

You nod, your voice barely a whisper, "I promise."

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[nalyra-dreaming]

COMMENTS on 2x05 - SPOILERS ahead, obviously^^

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

First off - this episode made me throw out some things out the window, and rearranged some things, confirmed others - HOLY HELL. A lot of screaming this time, the comments are a bit incoherent because holy fuck. I will need a few days to rearrange stuff after this lmao. . . . . . . . . . .

the (hot) bantering that Daniel does not buy once more

loved Daniel honing in on the change in narration

“narcoleptic pull of the sun” for the younger vamps… I guess that is how they adjusted the lore

MALIK - oh he’s LUNCH. Armand is fucking playing with his food, and honestly, that is quite the… well. Sadistic hunt, to be frank. Supposedly of course those who “deserve” it, but it really reminds me of the “hunting evildoers” they do later, and who they then put into the dungeons for easy snacking

“half in love with an easeful death”

“his methodology is never violent” 💀 (just fatal, depends probably on how you define “violent”)

God Daniel remembering and how they did that is CREEPY

The piano notes - pushing our noses to the important bits, oof

Daniel thinking they had sex (and the reactions both in the past and in Dubai, lol, cute!)

Louis “dined” almost every night he was there….

Mhhhhh Louis’ fangs, and Daniel shaken to the core

Daniel telling Louis he was lonely HIT

“naahhhh”

Them quoting the book there - I love it. Whole passages just recited from the book. Louis reading Lestat for filth, lol - love the dynamic he and Louis have there, lmao.

Oh Louis, sweetie. The way he halted, when Daniel said he was his “first love”

Ah, that is interesting, Daniel questioning Louis not going with Claudia after that bench… “the only choice, the wrong choice” (!!!)

“And then what” looool :)))

Daniel playing the extended file.

OMG

OH MY GOD

Armand going he is at home and always cleaning up after Louis

LOUIS going at Armand for being BORING. Holy shit. “dull as fuck”. “Suffocation by the world’s softest, beigest pillow.” OMG. I know it’s not funny, holy shit, but the DELIVERY?!!!! Oh yeah, Louis loves crazy and apparently he misses it - badly. “Did you want to lick my boots or chop my hands off? Is it the gremlin or the good nurse tonight”!!!! HOLY FUCKING SHIT

Armand mocking Louis “oh it’s so hard to be me” - “It’s so hard to be me” oh my fucking god

AND THEM MOCKING FUCKING THEIR PASTS

AND ARMAND TELLING LOUIS that Claudia did not love him, not like Lestat did, not like HE has. …..

AND OH MY GOD - it’s the Merrick reveal!!!!!!! Of her hating him. Of him having lost her and Lestat. Oh he’s HEARING her calling him!!!! IT’S FUCKING MERRICK in a mixup with the Tulane draft of Armand saving him then (without the Lestat involvement!) FUCK!!!!! I fucking love/hate the writers!!!!!!!! I KNEW THEY WOULD GO THERE BUT HOLY SHIT LIKE THIS???????????

Oh god the wounds. The makeup artists had fun oO.

Ohhhhhhhh Armand is … hurt there. And not having it. Ugh, I get him, but holy shit

Oh hell, the music, and Daniel being slammed around in punishment for Louis!!!

Ohhhhhhhh Armand is full on “gremlin” there. Terrifying shit. “Rest”.

Fascinating, indeed. On all levels, lol. While Louis is screaming in the next room.

“A splinter of coldness in you”

The emotion in “Louis thinks I’m boring”. Ugh.

Armand starting to tell his story, and then breaking off - oh, god, I want him to tell his story to Daniel later, please. Please let it be Daniel in the show, not David.

Love it that Louis and Daniel try to remember pushing their feet into the little rocks next to the tree

Daniel seeing Armand trying to communicate

And HOLY SHIT - that image of Louis in the coffin?!? Tell me I’m not the only one seeing the similarities???? oO

Armand calling out Louis there, deliberately calling Lestat trash, and OH MY GOD Armand theorizing that is why Louis wants to do this, to get the book out?!! To MAKE Lestat chase after Louis because of it!!!!!!!! God the way they call back to the original novel plot lines is AMAZING I literally screamed at that.

And oh my god, the way his voice breaks on the “insanity” part, on “if you want to escape from this prison of empathy I’ve locked you away in” - holy hell. And that small smile.

And him offering to reach out to Lestat for Louis and then NOT TELLING WHAT LESTAT SAID AND CUTTING IT OFF!!! GOD DAMMIT ARMAND. AAARGGHHHHHHHHHH. And the way Lestat’s voice is shaking with fear there. And then screaming!!! WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?! WHY IS ARMAND KEEPING THEM APART?!" AND HOW????

“… have I atoned for my part in Paris”. Ugh.

Armand slowly and gently spellbinding Daniel there was almost beautiful.

And then Louis, NOT asking. And the dynamic changing, immediately. … brutal. Armand’s face there.

And then, and then Daniel suddenly knowing what the words meant, and then. The memory making sense. THEN them both knowing Armand fucking meddled with both their minds. The proof of the fucking “tinkering”, both only having a “truncated version”. “Same precise edit, on two brains.”

And god, Armand coming back, and Louis MIMICKING HIM.

Louis’ face.

GOD YES. HE IS PISSED.

HOLY SHIT. 💀 (again) A lot of my theories are evolving now, with them having pulled up Merrick.

With Armand knowing where Lestat is, and not relaying the message as promised.

With Louis now knowing Armand influenced his mind as well. Holy shit.

They should have called this episode “No Pain” (All the pain). -.-

And the preview, of the blood, and Louis comment of “can you imagine me without the burden of her”.

The BURDEN of her.

Ouch Louis. Just… ouch.

EPISODE INSIDER

“It explains the betrayal” …. (see below)

“It explains everything that is going to happen”(!!!!) Mark Johnson once more.

“The relationship[] has all kinds of problems, many of the same issues he had when he was with Lestat have resurfaced.” (!!!!!) 💀

Assad: “Armand is always conniving. He is always working, and I think that is also the tragedy of him, it’s that he can’t ever relax with the truth.” HOLY FUCKING SHIT

Jacob: “It’s kind of the biggest betrayal, isn’t it, when you choose to spend your life with somebody, you accept each other. I can’t think of a bigger betrayal than lying to that person in such a significant way to the extent that you would rewrite their history.” 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 *Jacob: “It makes me angry, now, Armand is so wrong for that.(!!!!)

Eric: “We both discover the depths of duplicity that Armand has gone to, and what he’s done to each of us.”

... what an episode.

[discordsmuse]

Discordsmuse Masterlist

❀•°❀°•❀

Hello friends! Finally putting together a masterlist to make it easier for you guys to find all my fanfics here since I only post to AO3!

These will be organized by fandom and character.

❀•°❀°•❀

Baldur's Gate 3

Halsin

dance me to the end of love, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav and Halsin admit to their feelings post-Moonrise and fuck on a balcony.

Silence, NSFW/18+ : Fem!Tav and Halsin fuck in a closet

Do Unto Others, NSFW/18+ : Fem!Tav wants to give Halsin some attention and convinces him to let her be the giver for once.

Enver Gortash

body more than just a flesh, you can sell it for success, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav is invited to dinner with the Archduke and things get a little heated.

i will give you all that you need, NSFW/18+: Sequel to the above, Fem!Tav and Gortash bathe together before Enver gets a little handsy.

gracious men are those who suffer, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav and Enver w/ a free use kink.

legacy with no memory, NSFW/18+: Fem!Durge and Enver Gortash w/a pregnancy kink

I wanna know my god, At least enough to fear Her, NSFW/18+: Fem!Durge and Gortash have a lil bit of hate sex

Gale Dekarios

be my nightfire, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav catches Gale mid-alone time. Feelings and sex ensue.

Abdirak

sanctify you bedsheets with the sweat along your hips, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav is fascinated by Abdirak and nervously asks him to teach her about Loviatar.

Raphael

delightful little detour, NSFW/18+: Canon rewrite for what happens when Fem!Tav tells Raphael he's bad at sex.

Let the Dream Begin, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav/Raphael Phantom of the Opera AU, slowburn

Office Hours, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav/Raphael College AU

she keeps the candle burning, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav/Raphael post-game

Haarlep

Ask prompt, Haarlep/Fem!Tav when Haarlep shows up at camp.

Rolan

i wanna have a home, i wanna share it, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav and Rolan get together post-saving the tieflings from moonrise.

❀•°❀°•❀

Pirates of the Caribbean

Hector Barbossa

The Pirate Lord, NSFW/18+: Barbossa/Reader post-Elizabeth being kinged.

All That Glitters, NSFW/18+: Longform Barbossa/Reader canon rewrite pre-CotBP

Liar's Bet, NSFW/18+: Longform Barbossa/Reader canon rewrite during CotBP and DMC

feel the edges start to burn, NSFW/18+: Barbossa/Reader where reader is friends w/Carina

❀•°❀°•❀

Harry Potter

Severus Snape

isn't it lovely (all alone), NSFW/18+: Snape/Reader closet sex

no death in rebirth, NSFW/18+: Snape/Reader longform amnesia oneshot

Brought to Life, NSFW/18+: Snape/Reader marauder's era classmates to lovers lol

❀•°❀°•❀

Dead by Daylight

Canon/Canon

Contention, NSFW/18+: Ace/Meg against a tree hatesex

Breaking Point, NSFW/18+: Megmillan first time

It's Alright, Teen/16+: The survivors and killers recover post-entity

Anna/The Huntress

Not so much taming as growing accustomed, Mature/16+, Huntress/Reader friendship to lovers

Herman Carter/The Doctor

Untethered, NSFW/18+, The Doctor/Reader where reader annoying him but in the fun, bratty way

❀•°❀°•❀

Resident Evil Village

Karl Heisenberg

Business Partners with Benefits, NSFW/18+: Heisenberg/Reader where reader is Moreau's niece

❀•°❀°•❀

Spider Man

Dr. Otto Octavius/Doc Ock

Working Overtime, NSFW/18+: Otto/Reader where reader is his lab assistant

Bedside Manner, NSFW/18+: Otto/Reader where reader is Doc Ock's lover

❀•°❀°•❀

Labyrinth

Jareth the Goblin King

Midsummer, NSFW/18+: Jareth/Reader at the midsummer fae ball

don't leave me lonely, NSFW/18+: Jareth/Reader sequel to Midsummer

❀•°❀°•❀

The band Ghost

Papa Emeritus IV/Cardinal Copia

Better Than, NSFW/18+: Copia/Reader where he's a little insecure about Terzo being better than him

❀•°❀°•❀

Dracula

Dracula (lol)

Nice Costume, NSFW/18+: Dracula/Reader in a modern setting at a party

❀•°❀°•❀

Our Flag Means Death

Israel Hands

we do get desperate, now and again, Mature/16+: Fem!Reader/Izzy hurt/comfort unrequited love.

i wanna be yours, Mature/18+: Fem!Reader/Izzy first time together

❀•°❀°•❀

The Quarry (2022)

Travis Hackett/Laura Kearney

❀•°❀°•❀

• fell in love with the fever, Explicit/18+: Travis and Laura are forced to spend some time together 6 months after the incident.

• perspiration and alcohol, Explicit/18+: Travis and Laura meet again and become gym buddies. Laura pushes the line as per.

This list will grow/change as I write more :D Thanks for reading!

[poetrysmackdown]

hi hiii i wanted to say that your account is so refreshing to see, esp with the passion you have for the arts. as someone who's been meaning to read (and write) more poetry, do you have any recommendations? some classics that everyone and their mothers know? perhaps some underrated pieces that changed you? or even just authors you like, I'm very open to suggestions :]]

Hi! Thank you so much for this kind ask :) So exciting that you’re looking to delve deeper into reading and writing! I had to take a little time to answer this because my thoughts were all over the place lol.

For a review of notable/classic poems/poets, I honestly just recommend looking at lists online or, hell, just binging Wikipedia pages for different countries’ poetry if that’s something you’re into, just to get a sense of the chronology. I read one of those little Oxford Very Short Introductions on American Poetry and thought it was pretty good, but online is quicker if you’re just searching for poets or movements to hone in on. Poetry Foundation also has lots of resources, in addition to all the poems in their database. I guess my one big classic recommendation would have to be Emily Dickinson (<3), but really the best move is just to find a poet you already enjoy and then look around to see who their peers were/are, who they were inspired by, who they’ve maybe translated here and there, etc. and follow it down the line as far as you can.

For some personal recs, here are some collections I’ve really enjoyed over the past two years or so. Bolded favorites, and linking where select poems from the book have been published online. But also, if you want a preview of a couple poems from another of the books to see if they interest you, DM me and I can send them over! You can also feel free to pilfer through my poetry tag for more stuff lol

Autobiography of Death by Kim Hyesoon trans. Don Mee Choi

Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings by Joy Harjo

DMZ Colony by Don Mee Choi

Hardly War by Don Mee Choi

Whereas by Layli Long Soldier

Geography III by Elizabeth Bishop

Dictee by Theresa Hak Kyung Cha

Don’t Let Me Be Lonely: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine

Mouth: Eats Color—Sagawa Chika Translations, Anti-Translations, & Originals by Sawako Nakayasu

The Selected Poems of Osip Mandelstam trans. W.S. Merwin and Clarence Brown

The Branch Will Not Break by James Wright

This Journey by James Wright

God’s Silence by Franz Wright

Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke (the translation I read was by Alfred Corn—I thought it was great, but idk if there are better ones out there!)

DMZ Colony, Hardly War, Dictee, Don’t Let Me Be Lonely, and partially Whereas are all book-length poems with some prose poetry and varying levels of weirdness/denseness/multilingualism—if you were to pick one to start with, I’d say do Don’t Let Me Be Lonely or Whereas. Mouth: Eats Color is some experimental translations of Japanese modernist poet Chika Sagawa, with other translations and some of Nakayasu’s original stuff mixed in—it's definitely a bit disorienting but ultimately I remember having such fun with it, as much fun as Nakayasu probably had making it. It’s a book that emphasizes co-creation and a spirit of play, and completely changed my attitude towards translation.

If you’re less interested in that kind of formal fuckery stuff though (I get it), can’t go wrong with the other books! Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings is the one I read most recently, and it’s great—Harjo also featured in Round 1! Franz Wright also featured, and God's Silence is the collection which "Night Walk" comes from. James Wright (father of Franz) is one of my favorite poets of all time, though his poetry isn’t perfect. Even so, I’m honestly surprised he’s not doing numbers on Tumblr—Mary Oliver was a big fan of his, even wrote her "Three Poems for James Wright" after his death.

I mentioned in another post that one of my favorite poets is Paul Celan, so I’ll also recommend him here. I read Memory Rose into Threshold Speech which is a translated collection of his earlier poems, but it’s quite long if you’re just getting to know him as a poet—fortunately, both Poetry Foundation and Poets.org have a ton of his poems in their collections. There’s also an article by Ilya Kaminsky about him titled “Of Strangeness That Wakes Us” (!!!!!) that’s a great place to start, and is honestly kind of my whole mission statement when I’m reading and writing poetry. Looking at the books I’ve recommended above, a lot of them share feelings of separateness or alienation—from others, from oneself, from one’s country, from language—that breed strange, private modes of expression. That tends to be what I’m drawn to personally, and that’s some of what Kaminsky talks about.

Sorry of the length of this—I hope it's useful as a jumping-off point! And if you or anyone ends up exploring any of these poets, let me know what you think! If folks wanna reply with recommendations themselves too that'd be great :)

[darylbae]

I LOVE YOUR DARYL ONESHOTSSS AAHHHHH

i wanna request another vampire Daryl x fem reader pretty pleaseee

I would write this myself but I do not trust my writing skills LOL. A basic summary would be a lone reader who kinda just travels around, and one night when seeking shelter from a thunderstorm she finds this guy named Daryl, barely alive, and nurses him back to health (as much as she can by feeding him rabbit and meat barely cooked per his request), before realizing that Daryl is a vampire but couldn't really care less ("There's dead people walking around and you think a guy sucking blood and being deathly allergic to garlic will astonish me?").

Maybe for some backstory the reader is looking for their dad (or something like that) who got taken by raiders, so she's traveling around trying to find him and killing anyone who gets in her way, so by the end Daryl and the reader make a deal that Daryl will help her, and she just has to provide the corpses.

Ofc, don't feel obligated to write this, I'm sure you get so many requests anyway 😭😭 Again, love your fics!

sweet thing — daryl dixon

in which you meet you make a deal with vamp!daryl, hoping to benefit each other

note: i hope this is what you wanted anon, and u are too kind! i am so grateful for every lovely comment i get, it really keeps me motivated to write.

The rain was pricking at your cold skin, eyes almost closed to keep the droplets from invading your sight, and there wasn't an end in sight. You had to find him. Your dad, the only familiar sight left in this damned world, was gone. You'd sat around a fire one night, sharing a can of beans, giggling about another guess the song game you'd been playing. Then you'd woken up, and he was gone. You knew he'd been taken, it wasn't hard to realize, his stuff still surrounded you as you cried into his jacket that morning. There had been raiders on your trail for a while, it was actually a group you'd split away from a while ago. Looking to drag you back in. Why hadn't they taken you too? You wondered every day since, all thoughts leading to you feeling too useless to anyone. So now you wander, hoping to find a lead to get you back on track to finding your dad again. You'd spotted a metal panel propped between two trees, it had almost resembled a hut, and it seemed the only shelter for miles. It'll do for tonight.

You'd lost count of the days now, it all consisted of walking, stopping to eat and drink, kill walkers. Still in the same God forsaken woods that you lost your dad in. The raiders typically stayed in wooded areas, easier to conceal themselves, which was proving to be true. Leaning against the coarse bark of the tree beside you, you'd sighed deeply and readjusted the gun on your hip. Another stolen prize from the raiders which had helped you immensely in escaping. It was time to search for a place to stay. It had started raining again, however much worse than it had last time. Thunder was booming around you, the rain quick to soak your clothes and your hair becoming stuck to your skin. In the distance you could see a shed, or what looked like a small house. Your brain had squeezed onto the hope of shelter, picking up the pace as you broke free of the woods. It was, in fact, a small home. A bungalow of sorts, good enough for you for a few nights. It didn't seem occupied, but you were still cautious, so you'd equipped your blade and held it up as you breached the door. It was worn down, seemingly vacant since outbreak. But in the corner, by a fireplace, you had spotted a shadow. A moving shadow. You hadn't thought it through, you just rushed over to the person, in hopes it would have been your dad. It wasn't. But it was a man, who seemed to be on Death's door. Wheezing in and out, shivering as his coat laid over his body, ghastly pale. You'd thrown your bag off your shoulder, ripping it open to find your makeshift First Aid kit. "Hey, you still awake over there?" You asked, incredibly surprised at your confidence around a stranger. A wounded stranger. He grumbled, giving you enough confirmation to keep administering First Aid. "This is gonna hurt like a bitch."

Turns out he'd been stabbed, too weak to patch himself up. These were all just guesses, as he'd remained silent in the corner ever since you'd gotten here. However, he stayed. Even as you went out to find some dry firewood, after the rain had stopped, he was still sprawled out in the corner of the room. You'd started a fire, and sat comfortably in front of it as you let your food cook and clothes dry. "Do you have a name?" You asked, glancing over to the man. He met your eyes for one second, pulling them away from yours in the next. He remained quiet. "If we're going to inhabit the same home for a while then the least I expect is some information." You spoke, stabbing the bits of rabbit with a stick on your improvised grill made of wire and clothing hangers. "Daryl." He mumbled, taking the coat down from his face and sitting up. It was nice to see more of his face now, and strands of his hair stuck on his face. His voice was smoky, gruff, kinda hot. You hadn't thought about someone like that since before the world ended. It had just been you and your dad, except for the group of raiders you'd abandoned. You smiled into the fire, happy you were making progress. "Want some rabbit?" You offered, waving the end of the stick over at him with a cooked chunk of rabbit meat. He shook his head. "I'll find my own food." "Come on," you huffed, "eat some damn food. You need it if you want to heal." "I like it rare." "How rare?" You asked, ready to chuck some more on the grill. "Not touched the fire kinda rare." You grimaced, gesturing towards the cut up meat on the floor next to you. He leaned forward, wincing as he held his stitches, and stole a few pieces for himself. It didn't satisfy him like you probably would, but this was unbeknownst to you, he had to sit in the corner and control himself. You'd been nice enough to keep him alive, so he owed you that much. "So why do you eat raw meat? Won't you get sick from that?" You questioned, done with your food for the night and just using the fire for warmth. He shook his head. Guess that was too far. Silence lay heavily on the pair of you, Daryl too interested in a crack on the wall, and you watching the flames dance in front of you. It was you making all the conversation, so you had assumed that was it for the night. You'd climbed onto the couch, laying as comfortably as you could, and closing your eyes, hoping to have a dreamless night. "Ya won't believe me. You'll run." You heard, and you'd sat up, facing Daryl who was now sat up, arms resting on his knees with his head dipped down slightly. "Why?" You asked. "Why would I run?" Daryl paused. He didn't want to be alone again. As new as you were to his life, he liked company above all else. Even if you were pushy. "I prefer humans." "You're a cannibal?" You shivered, sat up properly now, ready to make a run for it. "NO." Daryl answered, "well, kinda." "Vampire?" You asked. Judging by his silence, you were right. And it shocked you how... normal you were about it. "Okay." You laid back down, clothes still damp and uncomfortable. But sleep was catching up quick. "Ya ain't gonna run?" He asked, and there was a hint of innocence you could hear. Like a child that had been walked out on one too many times. "No," you answered, still laid down but eyes open and looking at him, "the world has ended, the dead are alive, and you think a guy sucking blood and being deathly allergic to garlic will astonish me?" "Myth." You smiled, happy to close your eyes again. "You gonna suck my blood?" He wanted to, so bad. He wanted to taste that sweet blood pumping around that pretty body. "No. Don't wanna hurt ya." Your heart quickened, and you were embarrassed how much of an effect this stranger was having on you. You needed some action. Bad.

The fire was out when you'd woken up, and the man in the corner, Daryl, was gone. You lifted your head, noticing the coat that had once covered him, was now covering you. Your cheeks tinged pink at the sentiment, as you'd sat up fully now, still keeping the coat nicely snug around you. He hadn't left, surely? You'd made your way outside, the heavy thud of your boots alerting him of your presence, as you'd found him on the porch smoking. "So you can still smoke, huh?" You asked, sitting down next to him and observing his demeanor. Even the way he moved was hot. "Same as you are, just different diet." "Guess that answers my question of how you're in the sunlight." You giggled, and you could almost see a smirk threatening to show on his face. "Want your coat back?" "Nah," he croaked, mid-inhale, "looks better on ya." You couldn't quite believe your life had come to flirting with a vampire in the apocalypse. "Going somewhere?" He asked, and he was a lot more talkative than yesterday. You shook your head. "All I've done is wander the woods for God only knows how long, I plan on staying for a while." Daryl knew it was a topic for another night. So he stayed silent. "Gonna find some dinner. Stay inside." He instructed, standing up and stubbing the end of his smoke. You nodded your head at him, planning on making this home a bit more homely.

Daryl had been gone a while, and you'd cleaned up the place a bit. Making it look not-so-run-down. And you'd even found a book, to accompany you as you waited on dinner. He'd returned back after sunset, having been gone all day. And you were becoming ravenously hungry. "Took you a while." You commented, slamming the book closed and getting up to get the fire lit. "Yeah, sorry," he grumbled, "see ya kept ya'self busy." He looked around at the space you were sharing, seeing it didn't look nearly as bad as it did when he found it. You had only just looked up at him, seeing a sleeveless shirt and being more interested in that than the deer slung around his neck. His toned arms, patches of blood and debris from hunting all day, it was enough to drive you mad. "Hey," he clicked at you, and you felt shameful, "eyes are up here." He joked, and you smiled awkwardly at him. "Ready to eat?"

You'd eaten a good amount of meat, both of you now sharing the couch. Shoulders touching, thighs touching, your heart was beating loudly in your ears. "What's got ya out here?" He asked, his gruff voice sending goosebumps up your arms. But the question was something you didn't know if you were ready to share the answer to. But Daryl could help, he could get you closer to him. Finding your dad again was all that matters. "It's been me and my dad for the longest time. We'd met up with a group of raiders a while ago, who did things we just weren't okay with, so we up and left in the middle of the night." You sighed, heart aching for your dad and wherever he was. "They've been hunting us since. And we settled down one night, and when I woke up, he was gone. Taken. I've been trying to find him ever since." Daryl's hand found your thigh, and you almost jumped at the contact. "I'm sorry." He offered his condolences, and the feeling of his hand on your leg was starting to catch fire. "Not your fault, unless you were a raider." You turned to him, and he shook his head, that smirk appearing once more. "What's your plan next?" "I'm not sure, I just needed shelter for a few nights so I could conjure a plan, until I found you." You admitted, a sweet smile upon your lips and you looked at him. Friendships tended to form a lot faster in the apocalypse, but you weren't sure what this was. Daryl was silent for a moment. "You given up?" "No. Never." "Well let's look for him, together." He suggested. "I'll rip through that whole group if I have to." "You'd help me?" You asked in disbelief. "I like ya company," he confessed, like a dirty truth, "wanna keep ya around. Gotta help each other out." You were beaming on the inside, if this wasn't confirmation of a friendship, then you didn't know what was. "What do I do for you?" Daryl looked at you, your sweet, innocent features, eyes full of curiosity and hope. You'd seen things, but you were truly broken yet. "Help me find bodies, people, not worthy of life, and I'll help ya find ya dad." He demanded, but his voice was low. You found yourselves inching closer together, and Daryl's thumb delicately dragged over your cheekbone. "Sweet thing. I'll help ya."

[ladywisteriatarot]

dear lady wisteria, can we get a reading on jk's fs' parents reaction to jk and their first meeting?

sure :)

i got six cards! her parents got quite the bit to say, this post includes channeling (hence why i only answer this question two days after you asked me this)

long reading ahead!

the emperor. wheel of fortune. the empress. five of cups. death. the star.

with the emperor, they look at him as a very masculine man. it seems that her parents are the traditional type, hence why the religious background came up in a previous reading. they've always looked at their daughter like a princess the moment she was born and they believe that she deserves someone to treat her like one. jk is wealthy, successful, influential, well-known, and in the upper class. this reassures them that he can support her in everything as she needs and won't have to worry about the bills. a strong man who's the breadwinner of the household and takes care of his wife is what they desire for her and he fits the standard.

with the empress, they connect him with the idea of "venus." literally heard her dad saying "he's a pretty boy" but still acknowledges that jk is extremely handsome and good looking while her mom acknowledges that too and looks at him like "a gentleman" after they had a full conversation. her mom could see the love in his eyes for their daughter as it is extremely obvious. its that whole theory where a person is so good looking, you'd assume they're a good person (this is the halo effect, not an opinion or fact, just a theory).

however, with death and the wheel of fortune, they aren't too sure. they are delighted that she found someone that matches her energy and suits her. this is also think of jungkook as a lucky and almost "god-given" gift for their daughter, where they will also have bragging rights at cocktail parties but...they don't think they will last (on first impression, later on they know they will commit). they think he may not have enough time for her because he is an extremely busy man and that he might just be "another lesson" in her life.

they know that she needs someone to be there for her even though she acts like she doesn't. his tattoos and his handsome face throws them off a little too, there was a vision of when he first enters their home, her dad says something like "he looks like a player/an f-boy" in their ethnic language (which doesn't sound like korean) and her mom hits his shoulder and is like "be nice, you know she likes him a lot."

short answer for the five of cups, just like their daughter, her parents are really good at reading people. give them one conversation with you and they will most likely know what you ate on tuesday (exaggerating but you know what i mean). they could see that he looks like "a loner" (I DID NOT SAY THIS, they did, not me lol). very smiley and happy but looks like he's very lonely and been through a lot.

they think of him as the type to regret a lot of things and push people away when they are upset but they just hope that he doesn't do the same with their daughter so they're unsure of his mental capability of being in a relationship with their daughter. they don't think he's ready even though he's a grown ass man.

despite all of these things, with the star, they can't help but feel hopeful. this is the first time that she's been this open with them when it comes to bringing them someone to meet and they acknowledge that she's serious about jk and wants to be with him.

although it seems likely in their eyes that the outcome may not be the best, they see how they match each other extremely well and made for each other as if "they were adam and eve." they think that if they somehow work it out, they'd be so happy and have a long and forever-lasting relationship, they have nothing against him. they're all for him.

reminder: none of my readings are ever 100% accurate, including everyone else's.

[chiharulen]

Let's talk about the OST of Black Butler

What really drew me to Kuroshitsuji was the music of the first two seasons. I remember so vividly listening to the music before watching the actual anime, and I remember how the OST made me feel. It was so sad, so raw and heart wrenching, even before knowing the story behind it. As a classical music fan and also musician, here are my favourites even though no one asked LOL :

I mean, with "Si deus me relinquint", I always want to cry. Clearly meant to be ciel's lament : "If God has forsaken me, Then I shall forsake God, too." The unusual spacing of each lyrics, as if the singer was panting her words with difficulties, as if too tired to continue. Then we can hear the gregorian/religious choir : "agnus dei qui tollis peccata mundi" : "Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us." Reminiscing of the cult, and the sacrifice that has been done. The second part of the music, makes me think of Sebastian, here to "save" ciel. (But is it really saving if he's just going to eat ciel's soul anyway. Giving no chance of eternal peace.)

An underrated OST : I've Come To The Lost World/Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen (you can find it here). The title is a nod to Malher's same title song. In this ost, there is no lyrics, however, in Malher's, here are some of the lyrics : "I am lost to the world With which I used to waste much time; It has for so long known nothing of me, It may well believe that I am dead. Nor am I at all concerned If it should think that I am dead. Nor can I deny it, For truly I am dead to the world." You can hear the composer of Black butler's ost passion for opera in a few titles (with "Cena d'amore" or even "Wie Schon") At the beginning, it sounds peaceful. But the plaintive melody of the erhu (I think) can be heard at 1:52. So melancholic, and lonely. How can life be peaceful even when you are "safe", when you know you're going to die soon by the hands of a devil. Recalling the original of Malher's lyrics : For truly I am dead to the world.

The danse macabre (here) is one of my favourites too ! So dark (literally the "dance of death"), and clearly inspired by Camille Saint Saens "danse macabre". According to the legend : "Midnight strikes. Satan is going to lead the dance. Death appears, tunes his violin, and the round begins, almost furtively at first, comes to life, seems to calm down and then starts up again with an increased rage that will only cease when the cock crows. The Sabbath dissolves with the dawn." This music was clearly inspired by Vivaldi "the storm". I just LOVE IT. So well composed. You can imagine Ciel and Sebastian in a frenzied dance. Ciel getting tired and not being able to keep up. Almost as if Sebastian were playing with his food. At least, that's how it makes me feel !

This OST named "Ciel" : Si deus Relinquit, but make it orchestral. Again, Ciel's lament.

And should I talk about the band KALAFINA ?????????????????? Made by the one and only Yuki Kajiura (amazing song writer, did plenty amazing music for us weebs lol). We were blessed with the song "Lacrimosa". "Broken and vanishing into the distance I want to love this dazzling world once more I hide my dreams within my eyes Until my tainted heart Receives falling tears A phantom carriage parts the darkness On its way to where there is light The trap known as dreams Lures us into the inferno" ( ༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ )

I heard the fanbase in japan had a CONCERT for the 15th anniversary of kuroshitsuji. How I pray for something like that in Paris one day lol. Here's a snippet : here Such a lengthy post and yet I could go on and on... Please let me know if you want more !!!!

[savagewildnerness]

E12: Don’t be afraid, just start the tape:

So, first of all - what magnificent acting from everyone in this episode.  Oh my!  They’re all utterly wonderful!  I’m going to point it out at certain points as I go, but oh my - they are all wondrous!  And the language - every line of this episode mattered!

I found it interesting to reflect on vampire versus human perspective on both life and immortality in this episode - Daniel perceives immortality as an opportunity to seize existence eternally and truly LIVE life, while the vampires themselves dwell in existential malaise…. And is THIS that makes Daniel fascinating..?

Daniel ‘grabbing’ syntax - the bit where Louis refers to himself in the third person… now we have to  rewatch the entire show with this in mind, to see when else Louis or Armand referred to themselves this way…?!

“Someone half in love with an easeful death” - How Louis refers to Armand’s victims when he can’t find an evildoer are the exact words Armand later says to Daniel

Louis has more of an ease with himself in San Francisco, while at the same time being the most lost we have ever seen him.  He’s more at ease with his nature - in his posture; in killing… but not in all ways - clearly!

“Cocaine’s a fun boy’s drug.  I’m not fun.” LOL @ Louis, the truther!

Louis: “Do you want to now?” To Dubai-Daniel.  Audience: YES PLEASE!  Off you GO!

Louis’ sheer check shirt is TOO GOOD.  I love it.  I want it.

IS one of them the Zodiac killer though?  We need to look at that victim list from earlier than 1973…

“You were lonely, Louis, you were floundering…”

Jacob’s acting - he’s so great in this episode, but I especially adored the way he eviscerates Lestat!  Jacob is hilarious!  And it’s funny, like it is in the books!  So over the top… Louis leaning in to the tape like his words are weapons to lure Lestat towards him.  It’s so redolent to what Lestat did in creating his Come to Me recording with Antoinette’s voice… except the opposite - Lestat created a loving thing, but used his lovers voice on the loving thing to anger Louis… Louis twists Lestat into the most spiteful thing and I absolutely love that they included the concept in the books that would hurt Lestat the most of all - when Louis says that his piano playing is emotionless.  “He played without an iota of feeling.. with all the emotional acuity of a MONSTER!” Yeah Louis, THAT will draw Lestat out…

And while I’m on the note of music - how interesting the music in this episode… that single-note hypnotic piano pedal that keeps coming back over and over again - anticipatory…. The meagre, fractured strings… utterly unlike the music in this series outside this episode

And Louis, just wanting Daniel to agree… getting him high ought to make him more acquiescent… and yet, he gets more than he bargained for… Daniel still notices subtext in what Louis is saying and doing, and it intrigues Louis… for what do these eternal beings truly want, but to be entirely understood…? 

Daniel pointing out Lestat was Louis’ first love, even amid Louis’ trash talk

Daniel “I’m with her…. Get off that bench, brother.”

Daniel’s confidence in his SELF when asking for the dark gift - the confidence of a truly young man.  And How great is Luke - let’s say it now.  He is SO Eric.  His fear, his bravado, how scared for him you feel

The way Dubai-Daniel trusts Louis here, showing him the laptop

Armand: What if it was published?  You don’t have enough to fear from Paris?

“You are so BORING. Colourless.  Flavourless.  Dull. Dull. Dull nights, dull weeks, dull months, dull as f… Suffocation by the world’s softest, beigest pillow… the ten hours I spent with that boy were more exciting than decades with you.”  OK but tell us what you REALLY feel, Louis, LOLOLOLOLOL

Armand’s mocking impression of Louis “Oh, it’s so hard to be me!!!” And Louis retaliating.  God, I LOVE their argument!  A perfect mix of awful, painful… and hilarious!!!  (Imagine Lestat laughing…)

The name unuttered in our home for 23 years

“She didn’t love you.  Not like he did.  Not like I have.”  They’re going there with Claudia!

“Can you hear her?  She’s calling me…”. Claudia’s ghost is clearly what calls Louis to going into the sun and I wonder if this is foreshadowing and if that image of Claudia in the sunlight could be Claudia’s ghost at the end of the series, but this time we can see her… again calling Louis…?

“The floor slants slightly North. The blood flowed that way.” This line is repeated a few times by Armand… and I didn’t understand why, but it felt important.  Did anyone understand why.

Gosh the language in this episode is beautiful - poetic, play-like, and so much of Anne’s words.

“He’s fine.  He’s just one.” Echoes of Armand telling Lestat how unharmed Nicki was….

“He confessed his innermost secrets to you” - the betrayal of emotional intimacy

“You’re going to teach me how to be fascinating.”  OK… now is the moment.  Love letter to Assad Zaman and to Armand.  It is just heartbreaking the way he needs something from Daniel here.  In this episode, Armand saves Louis’ life.  He is a conduit for Louis’ true love’s voice.  In fact, he does so much in love for Louis… And yet he is told he is boring.

The irony is that Armand IS special!!!  He is absolutely the most complex vampire… he just doesn’t understand how to love or be loved… and Louis is NOT his "one"! But he is SO fascinating!  And special.  All of the edits to Radiohead's Creep PLEASE!!!!

I also find it WONDROUS in a show about vampires - where vampires are always a metaphor to The Outsider... yet... in art, The Outsider is often portrayed in in my opinion - an unrealistic way, as in "actually the outsider is infinitely special, really!", BUT IN ARMAND, the writers have given us a truly actually special character who truly feels like many outsiders do - that they are irrevocably flawed and there is something significant truly missing in them (us) - AND is told by the person he loves SO much he would literally be a pathway to their other love that he is boring and not special and not enough... THAT is relatable! (Even though nobody has told me this, as I am simply isolated, personally! Yet, still, I feel it!)

“A splinter of coldness in you.  Is that what makes you fascinating?”  “Even his transgressions are ordinary.”

The way Armand looks at Daniel when he says “Do you want to hear my story?” - “An eager black hole.”  Armand seeking if it is how Daniel listens that makes him fascinating to Louis…

Armand communicating to Lestat “I won’t say a word.”  What is Lestat telling Armand here about where he is?

Their feet in the stones

“All I talked about him was trash.”  “Yes, you said that.  But why?  It’s not exactly how you’ve talked about him to me.  Did I catch you in a fantasy?” A fantasy where Lestat reads Louis nasty embellishments and comes chasing after him again….

“This prison of empathy I’ve locked you in.” Gosh, I love the language

“I am your maker’s voice: Louis, mon Cher.  You anted to say something to me? Why are you ill? What’s happened to you?  I love you Louis.  Tell him Armand.”

Armand really does this in such selfless love for Louis and of course Armand cannot bring himself to speak Lestat’s I love you to Louis.  It is too much.  Especially seeing as all Armand ever asked of Lestat was for Lestat to love *him*!  Oh Armand!  You deserve love!  

A final act of service

“You left me for death.”

Louis, using Daniel’s “And then…”

I am the quiet you have been longing for after all the garishness of life.  The way Armand eases Daniel into death.  Sensual.  Beautiful.  Terrible.  And Anne’s words.

Daniel saying how Armand redacted himself from his mind reminded me of Daniel saying “Disregard” to Armand’s input to the story at the start of the season

Armand did edit Louis and Daniel’s brains… but Louis was suicidal… so there was cause…

Louis’ anger at the end

Trial starting next episode…!

Assad: “Armand can’t ever relax with the truth”

Jacob in the post episode thing - saying he can’t think of a bigger betrayal than rewriting the history of a person you love and that it makes him angry… referring to what Armand does to Louis… when IN THIS SAME EPISODE, that’s literally what Louis does to Lestat, albeit not in Lestat’s mind… but still… there are similarities!! Haha

Lestat is my boy, and Sam IS Lestat… and everyone in this episode is so incredible - but ASSAD'S ARMAND.  Armand was always my second favourite vampire, but Assad - I do not understand how you are making me love Armand even MORE!  Be MORE evil, Armand.  And more tragic.  And more loving.  Be every thing you are.  I know you are fascinating!!!!!  Every episode, I love Assad even more.

Finally: reviewers were wrong - this is ABSOLUTELY the foundation of The Devil’s Minion.  From horror, grows love.  Though this episode is mainly created, there is SO MUCH of Anne Rice in it and it feels 100% her.  He words, her feelings.  Her gothic romance.  ADORE.

Oh and PS, it's both hilarious and totally tragic that sexy Loumand times can't truly happen until Armand has literally WIPED Lestat from Louis' mind, hahahahahaha! Poor Armand. Obviously he's monstrous in this episode. And I love you for every ounce of your monstrosity and all of the pain beneath it!!!

[purplink8]

Can I be real for a second? I don't think L giving a foot massage to Light was very in-character of him. Like manga!L would've totally scoffed at how pathetic anime!L appeared when he did that.

I like the rain scene bc it's really pretty (also Light MOANS bc of L? *sighs* yeah i ship lawlight) but I'm always so ?? at anime!L's behavior? The anime made L way too melancholic and y'know self-deprecating kinda guy. In contrast, manga!L (whom I love to death) is so so confident in doing what he's doing and has the time of his life during the Kira case as he's intellectually challenged (by Light) as he figures out the case little by little.

I don't get where the anime creators got the idea that L is a very sad character who cares about justice so much so that he's actually Justice itself? Manga!L enjoys solving cases. I'm not saying that L doesn't care about justice at all- just that he cares more about winning.

So, the anime creators looked at a character who cares about winning (& his own ego) than everything else and decided to... make him give a foot massage to his nemesis (surprise surprise bible symbolism featuring L as Jesus *🤮* coming up) apparently due to accepting Light's (boy's first debut as Judas) 'betrayal' how can there be betrayal when there was no trust between them in the first place and saying "It is the least I can do to atone for my sins"...

The only way I could've made a little sense of this is if L was mocking Kira with that line but the anime just had to go above & beyond to make it (L's actions) seem too genuine for that to be true. which is. so. FRUSTRATING

Manga!L wouldn't have done anything like that. Not even ironically (he'd have thought it to be below him for pretending to be accepting his defeat mockingly to Kira). Even Manga!L's not enough of a bastard to try to compare himself with Jesus (and just after knowing (god knows how) that he's going to die)- like that's too stupid omg: even for a mockery.

Does he actually think that Light would pick up on the (him as Jesus) symbolism and be like 'oh no! L is too noble like Jesus to die by my betrayal i'm such a bad judas how come i NEVER NOTICED THIS BEFORE'... and decide to spare L's life? Or embrace his inner Judas like the bad bitch he is and finish L for that godawful mockery of Jesus?

Whenever I think about Anime!Light's in-character reaction I crack up as it would be smth like 'wow this guy who graduated summa cum laude from torture university is pretending to be Jesus? lol what a real piece of work. would've expected better from you L: so pathetic lmao i hope rem kills you soon i'm so done with you rn- rip 💀'

Manga!L (if he knew he were going to die (don't know how that's possible in the anime; still we're talking about how the anime creators seem to see L as Jesus so ~anything is possible~) that is) would never go 'guess i'll die' accept his defeat offering a foot massage to his enemy and inwardly throw a pity party being all "… It'll be lonely, won't it?" GIRL you were the one going on & about how you'd EXECUTE Kira once you catch him on live tv (also saying that you'd bring Kira's head to the task force) I REALLY doubt you'd feel lonely if either one of you were to die- that (killing each other) was the point!!

Manga!L is a selfish character: he values his victory above all else so the anime making him accept defeat that easily + gracefully doesn't sit well with me.

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

I got to thinking about what goes on between durge and Astarion at night for him to know and understand their nightly torments. And it turned into a very fluffy little fic lol I used my durge Ellie and I have so many feelings about these two. The whole enemies to lovers trope is a popular one for a reason lol. Anyways, enjoy my sappy thoughts <3

Ellie's soft auburn waves were always pinned to perfection in a half updo every day. She wouldn't leave her tent without having her hair and face looking immaculate. Except the night she was bombarded with nightmares.

A sea of crimson and gore with her as the only living being. A lonely soul in a dead world. A final sacrifice to, something, she never knew what. She plunges a dagger into her heart and then, nothing. Silence. Dreadful, lonely silence. All that carnage for what? Was this a memory? Or a prediction?

She has had this same nightmare for days. Astarion has been watching her rest since they met unbeknownst to her. Partially due to his nocturnal tendencies but also to make sure the camp is secure. He has noticed her struggles but didn't want to pry. They have gotten much closer in the past weeks though.

But gods, if Ellie tries to seek comfort from him she won't hear the end of it. "oh is princess having bad dreams?" she can practically hear his mocking voice in her head now. And, she hardly looked the part. Her bed head a mess of waves and knots, her face bare and pale. No. She couldn't.

And yet, if there is even a small chance of her getting rest tonight it would be with the safety of knowing someone is there. She's not as close with the others and she has the feeling they wouldn't be too happy about being woken up. She has to swollow her pride and make her way to his tent. Moving with a cat-like silence and stealth she glides over to Astarions tent. Noticing a faint glow from within. He must be awake reading.

"Astarion?" She whispers, barely able to get his name out at all.

"Oh, hello Darling. It's quite late for you isn't it? What can I do for you?".

Astarion had noticed her get up and attempt to fix her hair and squeeze her cheeks to get some colour in her face before walking over. But of course he would never let her know that.

"I'm sorry Astarion I just, I can't be alone right now".

"Ah I see, you're looking for a little...Company?"

"No! Nothing like that I assure you. I just-". She hangs her head in resignation.

"I haven't been resting well these past days. My trance is haunted by visions of red and death."

"I see. Well Darling, your hair is a mess. Would you like some help?"

Ellie is a bit taken back by Astarions lack of mockery. No jokes, no quips. Just understanding? It's not like him at all.

"Really? I mean yes but, you seem unsurprised by my presence. I know it's late and I don't mean to bother you"

"Have you considered that I might actually enjoy being around you, Princess?"

There's the sarcasm. He has called her princess since they met. It was initially used to mock her. But now it seems the meaning has shifted a bit.

Astarion grabs an ornate comb and gestures for Ellie to sit in front of him. She tentatively sits cross-legged between his legs. "I don't blame you, you know. I know what it's like to be haunted by nightmares. If I was having a rough time I have the utmost confidence you would do the same for me".

He speaks softly, while gently brushing the comb through her hair. "Astarion?" Ellie croaked. "Yes, Darling?"

"Thank you, really".

Astarion lets out a low chuckle. How much they've changed in these past weeks. Not even a tenday ago they were at each others throats about helping the tieflings. And now he's brushing her hair in his tent.

Ellie doesn't speak for a while. Astarion can't see but he can tell her eyes are closed. He gently untangles her waves with expertise and puts them into a soft loose braid. It's only a matter of time before he notices Ellie falling backward onto his chest. Poor thing has finally fallen asleep. He can feel the heat of her skin and the pace of her breathing slow.

He's unsure what to do. Does he wake her? It would seem almost cruel. Instead he slowly pushes her forward to get leverage, picks her up and places her on his bedroll. Covering her up with a few blankets.

He grabs some pillows to prop himself up to lie next to her. He gets his book and blows out a couple candles so the tent is slightly more dim. He's used to the dark he has no problem reading in low light.

In the silence he can hear Ellie's soft breathing. Her chest slowly rises and falls in deep rest. He's almost jealous. But the jealousy is overwhelmed by his longing to be close to her. As soon as he thinks it, Ellie sluggishly rolls over to rest her head and hand on his chest. Astarion is frozen. Was it the tadpole? Did they connect and he accidentally revealed his desires? No. She's deep in trance. Astarion shakily closes his fist then rests his hand against her shoulder. Holding her close without waking her. He's not sure what this is, or what they are. But he knows one thing. This? This is nice.

[my-name-is-apollo]

If you get this ask, tell us a story from the folklore or mythology of YOUR COUNTRY (e.g. if you are German, tell us a German myth). Then send this ask to ten people! Just want to see more people talking about lesser known myths ;)

Oooh there's a lot of myths in my culture that I absolutely love!! A lot of them are from the Mahabharata, and involve Krishna in some way lol. But Mahabharata is relatively well known so if I have to choose a more obscure story, I really like the story of Surya and Sanjna.

The story goes like this - Sanjna always loved spending her time under the sun and so married Surya (the sun god) when she grew up. She was happy for a long time but one summer, she wasn't able to tolerate being near her husband. She turned her face away from him, trembling, and asked him to go away. Angered, Surya left her. After a few months, Sanjna gave birth to two children. Since she had rejected the giver of life, one of her children was Yama, the god of death. And because she had trembled before Surya, her daughter Yamuna became a river goddess (because rivers always tremble). After a few years, Sanjna grew lonely without her husband and decided to renounce everything. She raised her own shadow, Chaya, and left her children under her care. The children didn't suspect a thing because Chaya looked exactly like her master. When Surya came back one day looking for Sanjna, Chaya pretended to be her and they start living together. It's when Chaya started abusing Sanjna's kids (in favor of her own kids with Surya) that Surya eventually learnt of the deception. Furious, he left everything and set out to find Sanjna. When he was able to track her down with the help of his father-in-law, she asked him to cut off his most intense ray if he really wanted her back. Surya did accordingly and they finally reunited. They both decide to let Chaya also live with them because she also had 3 children with Surya.

I love this story for all the allegories in it (especially that Yama became the god of death because his mother turned away from the giver of life) and also it's a lot of drama angst but with a happy ending.

[ashthewaterghoul]

Fall For Them - A Rain Ghoul One Shot

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Gen, Rain/whoever the fuck he’s decided to murder this month

Tags: Murder ghouls, syren!rain, they/them Rain, gn!Rain, death, cautionary tale sort of, Song: Fall For Me (Sleep Token).

Words: 1,152

When someone new comes to the Abbey, the receive a lot of rules and instructions. But none more stressed than this, Do NOT go near the river on the full moon. In fact, do not go out at all. Remain indoors with the windows and doors shut and locked. To those stupid or unfortunate enough to disobey the rules and warnings, they may wander out at night and hear a lone song in the distance.

A/n: I change like one lyric at the end but it fits so oh well lol. Any feedback is welcomed and appreciated <3.

~~~

    When someone new comes to the Abbey, the receive a lot of rules and instructions. But none more stressed than this, Do NOT go near the river on the full moon. In fact, do not go out at all. Remain indoors with the windows and doors shut and locked.

    On any other day of the year, the river is fine. It’s the usual spot for Water Ghouls to gather, to swim, soak and bask in their element. As long as you don’t disturb them, they won’t disturb you. It’s their domain, their pride and joy so all respect what they want. One thing they want, however, they are rarely granted with the Clergy’s blessing. Only on rare occasions that trespassers or those up to no good wander onto the property do they get want they want. That thirst that pops up on the full moon.

    Just like they tidal pools they’re born into, a Water Ghoul’s cycle is controlled by the phases of the moon. A new moon is when they are most clear of mind, and it’s when they make bigger, important decisions like leaving their birth pods, choosing a mate, bearing kits etc. As the lunar phases go on, they become more protective, shorter tempered. Until they are left with a fine string of patience on the full moon.

    They yearn by then, and all in the Abbey know to leave the Water Ghouls be because in their fugue-like states of desperation they are more than capable of bringing even the most stoic of Ghouls to their demises. It’s a good thing that this Ministry has the Ghost project because the soundproofing in the studio finds its way out to all the doors and windows and corridors.

    To those stupid or unfortunate enough to disobey the rules and warnings, they may wander out at night and hear a lone song in the distance.

Read below the cut or on ao3

    “In a city of ice there are burning cathedrals,     Turning the skies into glass.     And though echoing futures are the buckling sutures,     That hold shut the wounds of the past."

    It feels like it’s being sung just for them, pulled from their very soul and exactly what the weak resolve of a human needs to hear to be lured in. They feel understood in a level that reverberates deep in their soul. They feel seen. While it may feel like they’ve been especially chosen, they will never know just how special they aren’t.

    “So won't you fall for me?     Won't you fall for me?     Through a fractured existence,     Won't you fall for me?     Won't you fall for me     From reality?     To the rhythm of eternity,     Won't you fall for me?”

And how could anyone say no to that.

    “My insecurities surround me like lions in the den,     And I feel like I'm losing touch with what I am again.     And slowly I remember why I cannot pretend     That I never think of you in all this screaming silence.

    Oh God I wish you were here!”

A Ghoul might just be able to resist, at the very least stop their feet moving to the lake, to fight against the yearning projected onto them and times by ten. But the humans are powerless to resist a Syren’s song. And as one human shall find out tonight, a Syren will not care for innocence, for morals, for character. Only a breathing, bleeding heart in front of them, and a soul to snuff out.

    “So won't you fall for me?     Won't you fall for me?     Through a fractured existence,     Won't you fall for me?     Won't you fall for me     From reality?     To the rhythm of eternity     Won't you fall for me?”

As a human gets closer to the voice, they lose all autonomy. No matter how loud that one little shred in the back of their mind screams to turn tail and run, they never will.

    Tonight, they’ll see Rain poised with their arms on the dock, the rest of their body hanging down into the water below. Smiling fiendishly as the human draws nearer, sharklike teeth on full display. Rain is the most captivating of any of the Water Ghouls, their skin a calming grey illuminated by bioluminescent dots and lines, their eyes a hypnotising teal, their song most deadly, its tentacles constrict around any soul and never let go, not until all light is gone.

    “Won't you fall for me?     Won't you fall for me?     With my love as your garden,     Won't you fall for me?”

    This human practically runs into the water, desperate to be with the Syren. Rain’s metres-long tail, adorned with sparkling blue and black scales, coils around the human’s legs as the fluke wraps around and binds their ankles. They’re too entranced to noticed how barbs poke through the scales, digging into their flesh and holding them there.

     “Won't you fall for me     From reality?”

As Rain brings them both under the water, ruffling gills adding to their beauty, they lift their spell for one moment. One glorious moment when the fear of the human’s doom coats their face. They realise the hundreds of barbs holding them in place that only dig in deeper as they struggle, the burn in their lungs for oxygen that they’ll never get and the self-pity for being so foolish to ignore the warnings.

    The spell gets put back after that and Rain gets drunk on it, revels in how they go lax and completely give in to their doom, whether they want to or not.

    “You are mine in the end     So won't you fall for me?”

Rain drinks it in just how they drink in the blood of their prey. Taking what they want, flesh and blood and bone, claiming another soul before offering the rest the other Water Ghouls. As much as they don’t want to, it has to be done. It’s a sign of respect to share the bounty and a way to keep the peace. If they didn’t do it, they wouldn’t live to lure and ensnare another soul. While being the most alluring of the several Syrens in the Abbey, they aren’t the strongest. Not yet, at least. As soon as they’ve dethroned the strongest, they can keep the body for all they want.

    Rain is practically high on the blood in their gills, though, and they start swimming around themself in delight at another successful full moon. The Clergy never dare punish the Water Ghouls for their violence lest they put a target on their own backs, the next song truly being one for their own soul to hear. Rain relishes in that hold they have, without even needing to sing a single note.

    A look above the surface of the water tells them there’s enough time to try for a few more souls to claim. Maybe this time they’ll sing for their Jolly Sailor Bold. That soul is sure to be delicious.

[juststoriesintheend]

What would an au where Sol lives look like?

ohohohohoh boy howdy have i been thinking about this

i have a couple ideas, one for my horny brain that is in love with him and one that's more logical. since i've already kind of summarized my horny thoughts into a vague fic idea, i'll focus on a more logical string of thoughts

when vernestra finds him, he's barely clinging on to life (it's giving palpatine + vader parallels quite frankly)

they get him back on the ship, get him an oxygen mask, and eventually return to coruscant, but all the medical assistance in the world can't un-do the power of the force wrapped around your throat

his voice is permanently changed, much more hoarse and painful for him to talk. he has memory problems bc being deprived of oxygen for that long gave him brain damage

he stands trial for what he did on brendok 16 years ago. i feel like he might be able to be talked into taking the fall for every single death on khofar too, but if not then i could vernestra waving it away as "osha attacked him to save her own life & now he's delirious w/ grief and has lost his grip on reality"

maybe he's exiled? maybe he's sent to prison on coruscant? i think either way, he is no longer a jedi and he's going somewhere to rot for his crimes, and he goes willingly bc he feels like he deserves it

if he's aware that mae is with the jedi, he'd probably be torn between letting her be and being obsessed with reconnecting with her - to ease his conscience? to beg for death? he probably doesn't even know what he wants

all sol knows is that he made a mistake and he (and everyone he's ever loved) paid for it at osha's hand. he's plagued by flashbacks and nightmares. when he talks to other jedi or prisoners about a sith villain who threatens the republic, he's written off as a crazy old man

and maybe he is. osha choking him snapped his mind, it utterly broke him. if he had died there, it might have been enough to heal him, cleanse him of his sins. but surviving has only allowed his guilt to thrive. bc death would have been his penance

basically, he's still scapegoated and he probably loses his sanity over the years. i do not see anything happy or good for him in this scenario

which is why i don't like to think about it lol

alternatively, in some happier universe:

i like the idea of sol being able to escape. maybe vernestra thinks he's really dead bc he's quite literally on the cusp between life and death. and when she starts to drag him off for a sad, lonely jedi funeral, she realizes he's alive and mostly an amnesiac, so she decides to help him

she does what she can to help him heal in whatever short time she has and then she sends him off in an escape pod, gives him this second chance to go somewhere and live out the rest of his life in peace

the jedi he once was died on brendok, at his daughter's hand. now he can just be sol. no guilt or trauma to weigh him down. he can be a farmer. or a tradesman. a teacher. he can live

i think sol always wanted to be a father but couldn't bc of the way the order is structured/the jedi tenets, so maybe in this alternate life he can adopt some other orphan (amnesiacs sol and mae becoming found family for each other, anyone??)

maybe he meets someone his own age that he can love and become attached to in a better, slightly healthier way. someone he can wake up beside and dote upon. someone who makes him want to be the best person he can be

pls for the love of god, let this man have something happy for once in his life