#he thinks so little of himself. even if he acts like the world revolves around him and his suffering.

[amomentsescape]

Hey I love yanderes and slashers and used to have a sleep walking problem where I would try to crawl through windows, can you do a yandere slasher x reader where the reader has developed Stockholm syndrome and been loving to the slasher so they trust them and let them have more freedom. Then they see them try to crawl out a window in their sleep? How would they react? Would they believe the reader? What would make them believe them if they didn't? If they didn't believe them the how would they react to finding out the reader told the truth?

Thank you so much! And merry Christmas! 🎄 🎄🎄🎄🎄🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

Slashers with Reader Who Sleepwalks & Tries to Leave

Yandere! Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, of course. Mentions of abusive behavior

A/N: Merry (late) Christmas! I hope you all had a great holiday! For this request, I decided to leave Eric out. He's just the complete opposite to a Yandere in my opinion, and it was nearly impossible for me to write him as such. I hope that's okay!

Freddy Krueger

He knows you would never purposefully leave him

Like, he actually knows

His (undead) life revolves around sleep

He knows when you're awake and where you're actually sleeping, even if he keeps you stuck in his dream world

So when he finds you trying to escape out of the little window he built for you, he just laughs

He had already known you sleep walked

He'd been haunting your dreams for weeks prior to actually taking you

Freddy just keeps watching you, not really doing anything about it

You're stuck in his world either way

Might as well see how far you'll go

He'll almost use this as a test of sorts

He'll let you wander to wherever you want to go in your sleep, and he may even change the environment to something you don't recognize

When you wake up, his name better be the first thing that falls from your lips

If it's not...

Well, he'll just have to try harder at getting you to need him

Michael Myers

It took a very long time for Michael to get to this point

The fact that he lets you sleep without chains is a huge decision on his part

He doesn't trust easily

And any feelings of trust he did have come crumbling down the moment he wakes up without you beside him

It didn't take long to find you

There you were, pushing and prodding at the boarded up window

He's truly pissed

And a little hurt

He really thought you were growing to actually like your situation

But when he spins you around and sees your eyes staring blankly through him, he tilts his head

You don't seem... right?

He'll shake you harshly until he sees the life come back to your eyes

When you finally look up at him with a similarly confused look on your face, he starts to realize

He understands you well enough to know when you're not acting like yourself

When he finally explains what you were doing after you repeatedly asked him, you sigh

You explain that sometimes at night, you wander around without realizing it

A sleepwalker, huh?

Sadly, the chains will need to come out again

Jason Voorhees

You wouldn't actually leave him, right?

You seemed so caring

He actually believed you when you said you needed him

But here you were, trying to leave your shared home in the middle of the night

He almost breaks down as he picks you up and takes you back to your room

He finds it a bit odd that you don't fight back at all, but he assumes you just don't care to

He locks you up and makes sure that you can't go anywhere

How could you do this to him?

When you wake up the next morning in chains and not in your shared bed, you begin to cry for Jason

He tries to ignore you, but he can't bring himself to hear your sad voice calling out to him

You try your best to tell him that you don't remember what happened, and that you would never leave him

And maybe he's too trusting, but he believes you

You just seem so sad and so genuine that it's impossible for him to think it's anything other than honesty

You couldn't be that stupid anyways

You'd get lost in those woods alone at night, he knows that

So he just has to believe you

He loves you, and love means trust, right?

Thomas Hewitt

But you were being so sweet to him just hours before

How could you lie to his face like that?

He wakes up without you in his arms, and he just about loses it

Frantically searches for you around the house and finally finds you at one of the nailed in windows

He pulls you away quickly, staring at you sadly

He's waiting for an explanation, but you don't say anything

You just stare

You weren't acting like yourself

He pushes you back towards the bedroom and you walk the rest of the way yourself, climbing back into bed with ease

He's confused, but decides to see if it will happen again

You can't leave anyways

The whole house is locked up, and you don't even know where the keys are

You act just like your normal self the next day

And that night, you're back to walking around with a blank stare

He figures this just might be a thing you do

Doesn't really try to stop you, but he does follow you most nights to make sure you don't accidentally hurt yourself

On nights he wants you in bed, he ties some old fabric around your ankle and holds you tight while you sleep

You might not ever know about your late night adventures unless he decides to tell you

Bubba Sawyer

He's quite literally blubbering to you

He's crying, he's frantic, he even shakes you a bit, and you just stand there not responding

He keeps waiting, and when you start to just wander around again, he loses it

What's wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?

He ties you back into bed and stays up the rest of the night, watching you

The next morning, he confronts you stressfully

You keep telling him over and over that you don't know what he's talking about

But he refuses to believe you

(He wants to believe you, he's just scared)

He only finally realizes you were being honest when in the middle of the day during your nap, he finds you wandering back to the window with his whole family watching you

You weren't stupid

Why would you try to leave when literally everyone could see you in broad daylight?

His family begins laughing and saying things like "looks like you got yourself a sleepwalker"

So you weren't purposefully trying to leave him?

He cries tears of joy and spends the next couple of days pampering you and giving you just about everything you want

He does his best to show you that he's sorry

Brahms Heelshire

It's quite literally known that Brahms has abandonment issues at this point

So when he catches you climbing up onto the window sill

He loses it

Will grab you and roughly pull you off, your body falling to the ground

This immediately wakes you up, your eyes searching around frantically

When you see Brahms standing above you, you try to reach for him, but he only shoves you away

You look so sad and confused at this, but Brahms is too stubborn to give in

He starts tying you up again each night, still very hurt that you would try to leave like that

It takes weeks for you to gain his trust again

And the one night he lets you sleep freely, he catches you by the window again

But instead of grabbing you immediately, he decides to just watch

He wants to see how far you'll go so he knows just how severe your punishment will need to be

But instead, you just give up on unlocking the window (it was jammed), and you just turn around and walk straight back to bed, not even registering Brahms being right there

This is odd

You need to explain the concept of sleepwalking to him the next day

He still remains skeptical for a while, but he'll come around

You just need to be extra attentive for a while...

Norman Bates

Norman already knows a lot about sleepwalking

(It's what he thought was going on for a while when he couldn't remember large chunks of time throughout the week)

When he finds you opening a window in the middle of the night, he bolts at you, ready to lock you back up in one of the motel rooms again

However, when you don't respond or reveal any emotion on your face, he immediately knows what's going on

He's surprised

He didn't know you'd be a sleepwalker

He decides to just lead you back to bed, knowing that waking you isn't the best idea

Sits you down the next morning and talks with you about it

When you seem very apologetic, he uses it to his advantage

Has you cuddle up with him even more than normal and stay by his side at all hours of the day

He still gives you some freedom

But he's always watching

He does take some precautions and ties your wrist up in the middle of the night

He has to, for your safety of course

Billy Loomis

To be honest, you don't make it very far

Billy has an iron grip on you at all times, and he's a light sleeper

The moment you get up, he's awake, observing you carefully

Sometimes you have to pee in the middle of the night, but he still makes sure you aren't lying to him

His ability to trust is practically in the ground

The moment you turn the wrong way, he's up and chasing after you

Were you that dumb? You knew he watched you every time you got up from bed

He grabs your wrist quickly and points a knife at your throat as a threat

He can't bring himself to actually hurt you though, not that you knew that

Or did you?

Because you just stand there not even moving away from the blade

Billy becomes very confused

He takes his hand and begins to wake it in front of your face, looking for some sort of reaction

You don't give him one

Are you still... asleep?

He shakes you a bit until you finally look at him, confusion written all over your face

You're a sleepwalker, aren't you?

He just rolls his eyes annoyed and drags you back to bed, not explaining anything

Just another thing he needs to look out for now

You sometimes wake up to bruises on your hips and waist from how hard Billy holds you in the night, but he's just trying to protect you, right?

He doesn't mean to hurt you, he just refuses to lose another person in his life

Stu Macher

Stu literally sleeps on you, so it's nearly impossible for you to leave the bed most nights

But if you somehow wiggle your way out, you wouldn't make it outside the house

The windows have been nailed so that they only open a small amount

When he finds you the next morning, curled up under a partially opened window, he just smiles

Call it naive, but he just assumes you were getting too warm in the bed

When you wake up in a confused state however, he becomes concerned

What do you mean you don't remember opening that window?

He honestly just becomes more worried that there's something wrong with your memory rather than you trying to leave him

He'll likely talk to Billy about it

He just hears laughter from the other end of the phone

"Sounds like they sleep walk," he'd say

Stu does a bunch of research on it later

He doesn't really mind though

All of the unsafe objects are already hidden away, and every possible exit is locked down

You aren't going anywhere

If anything, he finds it fun to wake up some mornings and look around for you

It's like a game, and Stu loves games

[bloobydabloob]

Holy shit I love your Dirk interpretations, it's so true and I could talk about this shit forever. I feel like another part of his character that people seem to forget (along with Roxy for some reason) is that he's from the future in solitude in an apocalyptic wasteland. I just see that part of his character always removed which is disappointing because I feel like that's a pretty big part, especially regarding his themes around technology, his brother's theme of Time, his own isolation, and how he plays in the vastness of the universe and spacetime.

Art I drew related to the subject because I like to respond to asks with art.

But absolutely. I certainly understand where the lack of discussion over his isolation + upbringing comes from, considering a majority of the fanbase that I have seen builds their ideas based on their own version of postcanon. I’m not entirely sure how that would be fixed, but certainly even in the somewhat recent past I would see a lot more content regarding his upbringing both literally and symbolically. I don’t have much to add regarding the things you’ve mentioned, because they just are what they are. Dirk being confined to a singular room left to him by a father figure he never met, in a future where the only other person left on the planet is someone he cannot pursue a relationship of because of himself, with purely 3 robots to keep him companion, one being an exact replica of his own brain who is *also* trapped inside a pair of glasses, is about as literal as it gets to me.

The contrast to me involving the flooded, organic world in comparison to the little speckle of Dirk’s apartment packed with the dude and his technics is not only a representation of his isolation and entrapment within himself, but also of his lack of control. I think his obsession with & themes of control are a direct product in the case of Dirk specifically *of* this kind of upbringing. His themes of technology are also related to his themes around control. So much of his character is actually revolved around this to me like so much. Dirk is so deeply disconnected from humanity in every way and so much of his character + symbolism is based around that.

It doesn’t even have to be about the symbolism or anything though. It’s just pretty *interesting* in the literal sense that he lives in the middle of the ocean in the future. There’s not only a lot to theorise on to do with his young life there, but on how it might affect him in the way he acts for the rest of his life. The latter part is probably what I see mentioned the most by people talking about Dirk regarding this, I’m surprised I don’t see more discussion on the former too though. I really ought to actually talk more about Homestuck stuff on here. I will do it myself.

Roxy & Dirk’s relationship is largely ignored though because there is a narrative a certain demographic spreads that Dirk resented and blamed Roxy for her interest in him, and thus too many people believe that their relationship was or would continue to be an abusive one. Realistically, I believe it’s important to acknowledge that the way Roxy treated Dirk regarding his homosexuality wasn’t right while still acknowledging the obvious amount of respect and admiration Dirk had for Roxy. I mean we have a huge piece of dialogue from their post trickster mode conversations on the quest beds from Dirk purely stating how he feels about Roxy that people completely ignore somehow. I think this usually happens to characters that are women though. I know everyone says it, but it is true. Jane gets the exact same treatment of boiling her down to solely her negative aspects. The things I see completely mischaracterising both of them are horrific.

I mean how much more explicit can it get that their relationship is obviously very important to Dirk? But I digress. I think the best or I should say “most interesting” interpretations of their relationship usually come from DirkRoxy shippers actually.

I would be interested to hear about Dirk’s relation to his brother’s theme of time though. I don’t have any thoughts on this and I don’t recall ever hearing anyone talk about it before. If you or anyone else would be willing to enlighten me I’d be thrilled.

[blughxreader]

Do you think Damian acts more childlike to gain more affection from batsis?

platonic yandere! Damian Wayne... HC. he's 13-15 y/o

yeah 100%. He might not even know he's doing it.

I bet it's hard to untangle himself from his co-worker relationship with his father and siblings. Damian always has to be on-guard around them to maintain his competent and reliable appearance, even if he's very comfortable with being his true self. Accidents like spilling tea or tripping are just slightly more embarrassing for this reason.

However Damian doesn't have to worry about being capable around you. His only relationship with you is little brother and big sister, which has implications that he can be as needy and undignified as he wants.

Yes, he's a trained assassin and vigilante, but you don't care about his tactical prowess. Your world revolves around whether to have tea or coffee, what to draw, which new show to watch, (how to cut off the tracker on your wrist, where the surveillance cameras are facing, has your food been tampered with).

So Damian does away with all pretenses and finally acts his age. He doesn't want to impress you as a soldier, he wants to impress you as a little brother.

He needs to be held! He has to watch the birds with you before school. Your attention must be on him instead of his siblings.

Look at this beautiful portrait he painted of you--aren't you proud? Look, he booby-trapped Tim's apartment so he'll be late for dinner, now the two of you have 17 more minutes of alone time, isn't that great? Now hug me hug me hug me hug me hug me hug me please please please please please please

[puckstories]

Arrogant | Jack Hughes

Pairing; Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Suggestive (kissing), cursing, Jack slander (?), edited only once.

Summary; Reader can't stand Jack Hughes, but the sex is too good to throw away.

Word Count; 1.5k

Author’s note; Just a little blurb to dip my feet into the water of writing for Jack Hughes, also a little different than how I normally write. Will write a part two if requested, otherwise, I hope you enjoyed! As per usual, any thoughts + reblogs are appreciated (: -Honey

Jack Hughes was the absolute worst, and if you had any shred of self-respect left, you’d stop answering his texts at two in the morning, let alone opening the door when you knew it was him knocking. Every time you saw his name flash on your screen, you told yourself it would be the last time. The last time you’d get tangled up in whatever this was, the last time you’d let him worm his way into your night with that smug smirk of his. But then your phone would light up again, that familiar ding piercing the quiet of your room, and against your better judgment, you’d find yourself reaching for it.

You couldn’t stand him, honestly. The way he walked around like he was the king of New Jersey, all swagger and arrogance, thinking that just because he was good at hockey, he was somehow above everyone else. He had that cocky, self-assured grin that made you want to roll your eyes every time you saw it, and the way he carried himself—like the world owed him something—was infuriating.

Jack Hughes was infuriating. Plain and simple. He acted like the universe revolved around him, as if the rest of the world was just background noise, something to fill the gaps between his big moments on the ice. He was loud, brash, and so fucking egotistical that sometimes you wondered how his head even fit through the door. He was stupid, in that careless, reckless way that only someone who’s gotten everything they’ve ever wanted can be.

And yet...

Here you are, again.

Your phone had buzzed just twenty minutes ago, lighting up your dark room with a text you should’ve ignored. But you didn’t. You never did. Because for all the ways Jack Hughes made you want to tear your hair out, there was one undeniable fact that kept pulling you back in: the sex.

Goddamn it, the sex.

You’d never tell him. Never give him the satisfaction of knowing just how good he was at it. Jack’s ego was already the size of an entire hockey rink, and the last thing you wanted was to inflate it even more. So when he asked if you came, you lied sometimes, just to keep him guessing. You’d mumble something noncommittal, roll your eyes at his smug grin, and make him work harder for it the next time.

But deep down, you knew the truth. No one had ever made you cum the way Jack did. Unfortunately.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t just that the sex was good—it was phenomenal. It was earth-shattering, toe-curling, makes-you-forget-your-own-name kind of good. The kind of sex that had your heart pounding in your chest long after he’d left, the echo of his touch still lingering on your skin. Jack had a way of knowing exactly what you needed, exactly how to pull you apart piece by piece until you were a trembling mess beneath him. It was maddening. And you hated how much you loved it.

And so, here you were again—lying in bed, wide awake, staring at your phone as you waited for the inevitable knock at your door.

It always played out the same way. You’d hear the faint sound of his car pulling up, the slam of the door as he got out, and then, a minute later, the knock. Three sharp knocks that sent your heart racing, even as you cursed yourself for letting him in again. You told yourself you wouldn’t open it this time. That you’d let him stand out there, alone in the cold, and go back to bed with your dignity intact.

But when the knock finally came, you found yourself throwing the blankets off and padding toward the door in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear. Your hand hovered over the doorknob for a split second, your conscience screaming at you to turn around, to lock it, to put an end to this ridiculous cycle. But then, almost on autopilot, you twisted the knob and pulled the door open, your heart pounding in your chest as Jack Hughes stood there, looking like sin incarnate.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, that infuriating smirk already tugging at the corner of his lips. His hair was a mess, like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times on the way over, and his blue eyes sparkled with that familiar mix of arrogance and mischief. He wore a hoodie, the hood pulled low over his brow, and sweats that hung low on his hips, casual but still somehow infuriatingly sexy.

"You gonna let me in, or are you just gonna stare at me?" Jack’s voice was smooth, dripping with that cocky charm that made your stomach twist, and you hated how easily he could get under your skin. How effortlessly he made you feel both irritated and… excited all at once.

You didn’t answer him. You just stepped aside, letting him brush past you as you closed the door behind him, the soft click of the lock sealing your fate for the night. The scent of his cologne—something woodsy, with just a hint of spice—hit you as he walked past, and you hated the way it made your head spin, the way it made your pulse quicken in anticipation.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you felt his hands on you, rough and impatient, like he couldn’t wait another second to have you. He spun you around and backed you up against the door, his mouth already on yours before you could say a word. His kiss was all heat and urgency, his lips rough against yours as he pressed his body into you. There was nothing gentle about it—nothing soft or sweet. Jack didn’t kiss like a man who wanted to take his time. He kissed like he had something to prove, like he needed to remind you why you kept letting him in.

And maybe you did need the reminder. Because the second his hands slid down to your waist, gripping you with just the right amount of pressure, all the reasons you’d been telling yourself to say no melted away. His touch was electric, sending a jolt of heat straight through your body, and you gasped into his mouth, your hands instinctively gripping his hoodie, pulling him closer.

"You couldn’t wait, could you?" Jack’s voice was low, teasing, as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes flashing with amusement. "Always acting like you hate me, but here you are, letting me in again."

You glared at him, your breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, his knuckles brushing against your bare skin underneath. "You’re such an asshole," you hissed, even though your body was already betraying you, arching into his touch.

He grinned, his teeth catching the light as he leaned down to kiss your neck, his lips dragging across your skin in a way that made you want to punch him and pull him closer all at once. "Yeah, but you love it," he whispered against your throat, his breath hot against your skin. "You love how much of an asshole I am."

You hated him. You hated how right he was. How he could get under your skin with a few words, a few touches, and make you forget every reason you had for not wanting him. But more than that, you hated how much you wanted him.

You hated the way your body responded to his touch, the way your skin burned under his hands, the way your breath hitched when his fingers dipped lower, just brushing the waistband of your panties. You hated that, even though you knew better, you couldn’t resist him. Not when he was here, pressed against you, his lips on your skin, his hands on your body.

"Shut up," you murmured, your voice breathless as you pulled him closer, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.

Jack chuckled against your neck, his hand slipping under your shirt, his fingers trailing up your side, sending shivers across your skin. "Make me," he whispered, and you could hear the smirk in his voice, could feel the challenge in his words.

And that’s the thing about Jack Hughes. You did want to shut him up. You wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, to make him forget every cocky thing he’s ever said. But the problem was, every time you tried, he always ended up winning.

Because as much as you hated him, as much as he made you want to scream in frustration, there was no denying the fire between you. The way he could make your pulse race with just a touch, just a word. The way he could unravel you with a single look. And that was why you kept answering his texts at two in the morning, why you kept opening the door when you should’ve slammed it in his face.

Because Jack Hughes was the absolute worst. But he was also the best damn thing you’d ever had in bed.

And tonight, like every other night, you knew you’d let him prove it to you all over again.

[ipegchangbin]

— a while with changbin.

🏷️ (sub!)changbin x gn!reader. smut (lovemaking). angst. unprotected sex (cumming inside).

a/n: not totally back, not totally gone, but another secret third thing?

humid is the nightly air as you breathe with him.

silence is interrupted by the soft smack of your lips on his. throwing the uncomfortable distance between the both of you, your body turns to his and closes in, chest to chest, hands holding his arms, catching even your own heart off-guard from how suddenly you acted.

you love him. he loves you. that’s all that should matter.

changbin almost panics as you pull away from the kiss. his eyes widen but his pupils dilate, light reflecting off them as it glistens, glassy at your sight. you chuckle. he’s adorable this way, even if you don’t know what you’re doing.

neither of you want to think about what you both were, about your work due tomorrow, about his monthly troubles, nothing—none of the world matters as it revolves, leaving you and changbin to spin together.

it’s been a while since you had him like this, naked in his bed, sleepy yet eager to have you.

and now, you have your hands trailing up his sides. the dizziness in his head worsens. it’s an addicting buzz of an empty mind that he gets nowhere other than from you.

“i missed you,” you start, feeling up the muscles that tense and relax at your fingertips. “i missed this.”

“god…” changbin only manages to speak word per word. “missed you…so much.”

you figure not to speak further, to simply nod and giggle in response; you both shared the catching-up over coffee and dessert beforehand. weird that he’ll have his full course meal hours after dessert, though.

to think that you’re there before him, touching him as if he’d been blessed by a deity — a deity that is as human as him, to his surprise — leaves him panting. the whimper that leaves his mouth is immediately caught by your toothy smile as your sly hands make their way to his hips.

maybe it’s the coffee, maybe it’s the sweetness, maybe it’s your hands that he forgot were familiar with his weakest spots: changbin jitters as you sink your nails down on his skin, lowering his body close to yours on the bed.

“love me,” you order.

not fuck, but love; you’re tired of that. after opening and closing your heart on him like a leaking valve, it all flooded anyway as he slowly entered you.

gentle as he always was, your little gentle giant. he holds you by your arms, elbows beside yours as he propped himself delicately over your body, making sure not to squish you as his cock made its way through you. you swallowed him inch by inch by inch, until his—rather short—length filled you snugly.

despite his length, he was incredibly wide after all. you seem to have forgotten that too.

it’s not like neither of you wanted to forget. the nights that were lonelier than these for the both of you weren’t as agonizing as you and he thought. changbin could live without you, you could live without changbin. it’s not a heartbreaking realization until you both stare at each other right in this moment, eyelashes fluttering open as your faces drew impossibly close again.

how could you leave, when he feels so good with you like this?

changbin shudders as he attempts to break the eye contact, but he fails miserably as he reaches your limit. you moan and clench around his length, sure that your entrance was all closed by him, and you trap him there above you with your arms around his neck and shoulder blades.

that’s when he comfortably rests his upper body against yours, and god, the plush skin of his chest on yours is to die for.

“i love you” escapes his lips. changbin doesn’t hesitate, neither does he take it back: he’s sincere in his confession as he stills inside, failing to hold back the whimpers in his throat.

you could only respond with a kiss on his lips.

your tongue enters his mouth as you urge him with your hips to start moving. you move upwards towards his body, pushing his cock further down your hole, almost like it could break your limit — yet it feels like nothing. no pain, all pleasure, but most importantly, velvety in love.

he’s slow at first. setting a pace that he’s grown to know that you were and still are comfortable with, he makes sure that you feel his desperation in low doses. even he has self control, but he knows that it isn’t long before it breaks.

the warm breaths fill the air along with pants, grunts, and loving moans that form from bubbles in your hearts.

changbin lets out a particularly loud and high-pitched whine that makes you giggle against his skin.

“feels good?”

he nods, moaning again. this time, it’s a dragged out cry of your name, almost as if he could start to sob.

you coo at him while twirling a finger around his curly hair. he smelled of shampoo and sweat, the fresh scent of soap and musk filling your nose as you nuzzle your head closer to his. changbin only melts further in your cage of affection as you buck your hips up while pressing kisses onto his neck.

for some reason, it starts to feel like you’re the one making love to him from below. he almost stops his movements from how slow he is, unable to keep up with the circling of your hips against his crotch. it doesn’t help once you swing your legs up against his butt to push him down on your body again.

it’s impossibly wet down there, the sounds of sin forming and becoming more prominent as you continue to love him, urging him to keep thrusting into you. it’s all slow, the strokes full and not rushed. you’re hungry and so is he, desperate to feel each other wholly but not for a quick fuck-on-the-run.

you love him. he loves you.

it comes to a point where he pulls out fully before slowly pushing back in again, eliciting moans and surprised laughs out of your lungs. he smiles, only to moan too, digging his head in your chest.

“you’re perfect. don’t ever leave me,” he pleads.

there are tears on his face. there are tears on your skin.

a while of loving happens, thrusting up into each other bit by bit, all before you realize that you’re tearing up too. it had been too long since you felt so loved by him. before you could even start to wonder about it, he kisses your cheeks while pushing his cock inside you again and again, slowly but surely.

the sensations of everything from his scent, his skin, his noises, and the beautiful sight of his being start to overwhelm you. you’re later than him, only that he tries to hide his overstimulation better while attempting to keep composure.

not much of a while passes as your insides start to flutter around him, getting wetter and wetter, caging him in. you hug him impossibly tighter as you’re close, only to realize he’s been wanting to burst all the same.

“i love you so much,” he says. his voice falters as he repeats it over and over. your name is the last thing that leaves his lips before he finishes inside you.

seconds after his orgasm, you follow, groaning into his shoulder. your orgasm complements his as it all mixes inside you before oozing out as he pulls away, not fully, but enough to be comfortable.

neither of you pull away from your embraces either. you simply roll him gently over to your side, not letting go of the hug. you both cuddle for a few minutes and bask in the warmth of whatever just happened.

he longs to talk to you. touch you like this forever. cuddle into your arms every day again, but he isn’t sure how to ask permission when it isn’t guaranteed that he’d be yours at all.

“y/n…” changbin whispered. “sorry. i’m sorry.”

you turn your head to face his way. “for what?”

“i don’t know what to call this. i don’t know what to call…us.”

“oh honey,” you inch closer to him, rolling the rest of your body to his side. “we’re together.”

his eyes light up at that. it’s hope, and he’d been given false hope before, but this was different. the sincerity in your voice promises him a forever that he’d been dreaming of.

it’s the same one you’ve always needed too.

“let’s just stay like this.” with him still inside you, you scoot over to close yourselves to your limits, but this time, neither of you move. the sex is done, you just want to be close.

“all i know is that i love you.”

changbin smiles. “i love you more, honey.”

you both laugh as you fail to contest him, knowing deep in your heart that he was right — with eyes like his that stare at you this way, he did love you more. he still loves you most.

[advisorykitty]

can you please make nyen X reader smut or just normal PLEASE I NEED MORE

Provoked

Nyen x Reader

Living in Luther’s house had always been an experience, especially with everyones odd habits and unspoken rules. One of those rules was simple: don’t mess with Nyen ESPECIALLY when he’s working out. But today deciding you had a death wish ,you decided to break that rule.

The day had been frustrating. Luther had sent you on another errand, and by the time you got back, your patience was wearing thin. You walked into the living room, groceries in hand, and spotted Nyen in the middle of his workout. He was dressed in his black tank .His body moving with precise, almost mechanical, discipline as he knocked out push-ups with ease.

It wasn’t just the sight of Nyen that irritated you—it was everything. The way he ignored everyone unless it suited him, the way he carried himself like he was better than everyone else. He always acted like the world revolved around him, and today, you were done pretending that didn’t bother you.

“Do you ever do anything useful besides work out?” you snapped, tossing the grocery bag onto the counter with more force than necessary. The clattering sound of cans and boxes echoed through the room.

Nyen didn’t respond at first. He paused in mid-push-up, holding the position without breaking a sweat, and turned his head just slightly to glance at you. His expression was impassive, unreadable, as if asking you to repeat yourself but something in his eyes told you that he was already annoyed, guilt was the last thing on your mind.

“Maybe if you spent as much time helping out as you do flexing in the mirror and admiring your lazy ass self, you’d actually contribute something around here,” you added, the irritation clear in your voice.

Slowly, Nyen pushed himself to his feet. His movements were fluid, almost too controlled, like a predator that was deciding whether or not to pounce. He turned to face you fully, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto yours. “What the fuck did you just say?”

YEESH you had definitely fucked up but there was definitely no turning back now!!!

The venom in his tone made you hesitate for a split second, but you had already made a point and you weren't going down. Irritation overpowered your better judgment. “I said, maybe if you weren’t so obsessed with looking tough, you’d actually be useful. But no, you’re just Luther’s overgrown pet who spends more time showing off than doing anything important.”

Nyen’s expression darkened, his face twisting into a snarl. “You’ve got some fucking nerve talking to me like that. You’re just a weak little human who can’t even handle a simple errand without whining.”

“Oh, I’m weak?” you shot back, stepping closer, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and adrenaline. “At least I don’t fucking kill things for fun and find pleasure in it. Fucking weirdo. Actually, do you think that makes you strong? It just makes you a psychopathic sadist.”

Nyen’s eyes flashed with anger. “Better a psychopath than a pathetic, mouthy piece of shit who doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up.” His voice was a low growl now, filled with barely restrained fury.

The insult hit harder than you expected, and for a moment, you considered backing down. But you werent a pussy so hell nah! You're already pissed from being everyones dormat and you were tired of being talked down to, especially tired of the constant tension. “At least I have a mind of my own,” you said, your voice rising. “You’re nothing but Luther’s attack dog. Without him, you’re just a lonely, aggrovated bitch who has nothing else going for him.”

For a split second, the room was dead silent. Then, Nyen exploded.

“You little shit!” he roared, his voice shaking with rage. Before you could react, Nyen grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it over with a furious snarl, sending groceries and utensils flying across the room. The sudden violence sent a shockwave of fear through you, but it was too late to turn back now.

Yeah you're definitely fucked.

His eyes were fixed on you, and for the first time, you truly realized the danger you were in.

“You think you can talk to me like that and get away with it?” Nyen hissed, taking a menacing step towards you. His hands were clenched into fists, and you could see the muscles in his arms tensing as if he was ready to strike. “You fucking idiot, I’ll tear you apart!”

Panic set in, and without thinking, you turned and bolted. You could hear Nyen’s footsteps pounding after you, fast and relentless. Your heart was racing, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you ran through the hallway, what the FUCK where you thinking?????This is Nyen where taking about and did you mention he works out everday????!!!

You desperately tryed to find a way out. But deep down, you knew you were trapped—Luther, Randal, and Sebastian had gone grocery shopping, leaving you alone in the house with Nyen and Nyon. (Plus kitty and Nana)

There was no one coming to help you.

You burst into the kitchen, and Nyon almost jumped as you guys came crashing in, his eyes opened wider as he looked down from the fridge where he occasionally liked to nap.

Your hands shaking as you grabbed a frying pan from the counter. Nyen was right behind you, his eyes filled with a terrifying mix of fury and sadistic glee. “Running won’t save you,” he taunted, his voice laced with a cruel edge. “You’re fucking dead, you know that?”

“Stay the hell away from me!” you shouted, swinging the pan wildly in his direction. But Nyen was too fast—he ducked under the swing with a snarl, his eyes never leaving yours. The frying pan clattered to the floor, and you scrambled back, trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible.

Nyen straightened up, a mocking grin spreading across his face. “Pathetic,” he spat, slowly advancing on you. “Is that all you’ve got? You really thought you could take me on? You’re even dumber than you look.”

Desperation gripped you as you backed up against the wall, your mind racing for a way out. But there was no escape—Nyen had you cornered, and he knew it.

With deliberate, almost leisurely movements, Nyen reached into his waistband and pulled out a knife. The blade gleamed wickedly in the dim kitchen light, and your blood ran cold. “I'll love seeing you fucking squirm,” Nyen said, his voice dripping with sadism.

You tried to dodge as Nyen lunged at you, but he was too fast. The knife slashed across your arm, leaving a stinging cut that sent a wave of pain shooting through you. You cried out, and it hurt like SHIT.

Clutching your bleeding arm as you stumbled backwards, the fear now fully consuming you as the reality of the situation dawning on you.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Nyen sneered, advancing on you with deadly intent. “That’s just a taste of what’s coming, you fucking asshole. I’m going to enjoy every second of this.”

You grabbed a chair, swinging it in his direction with all the strength you had left, but Nyen easily sidestepped the attack quite literally insulting you because you put a lot of force into that.

He was toying with you, drawing out the moment, savoring your fear. “Come on,” he taunted, his voice low and menacing. “Fight back. Or are you just going to stand there and let me carve you up?”

You tried to swing the chair again, but Nyen was too quick. He grabbed the chair out of your hands and threw it aside with a snarl. “Pathetic,” he repeated, his voice filled with contempt. “You’re nothing. Just a weak, scared little human who doesn’t know when to shut up and admit their place.”

He grabbed you by the collar and slammed you against the wall, his face inches from yours. “Any last words?” he growled, his breath hot against your skin.

Fear paralyzed you. You could barely think, let alone come up with something to say. But before Nyen could strike, a sudden noise echoed through the house—the faint sound of a door creaking open, followed by footsteps.

Somehow, while you and Nyen were busy fighting , Nyon had managed to get Luther to intervene. Luther stood beside Nyon. Luther looked at you both in the rather unflattering position you were in, his mouth set to a line. Luther hummed, which made Nyen roughly let you go.

“Fucking pest,” he muttered under his breath, before turning his attention back to you and making sure Luther had left the room.

“Looks like you got lucky. But next time…” He pressed the knife against your throat just enough for you to feel its cold edge. “*There won’t be a next time.*”

With a final shove, he let you go, sending you sprawling to the floor. Nyen glared down at you one last time, his eyes filled with unspoken threats. Then, with a snarl of frustration, he turned and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you trembling and shaken on the floor.

As the sound of his footsteps faded, you slumped against the wall, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The cut on your arm throbbed painfully and you tried your absolute best not to start crying.

You sat there for a long time, trying to calm your racing heart and still your shaking hands. The house felt eerily silent, the earlier tension hanging in the air. Nyen had shown you a side of him one that you hoped you’d never see again..

When you finally gathered the strength to stand, you ran into Nyon who you figured (despite the language barrier) try to patch you up.

You spent the rest of the night replaying the events of today and a smile tugged on your lips.

You were definitely going to abuse the fact that Nyen was so submissive when Luther was around.

Part 2 will be out soon! Mb smut if u guys want ^_^

[lightbluetown]

i saw some people say ed and zheng are master strategists while stede is just some guy with ridiculous luck, but i think that's unfair. sure stede's ideas are insane, but they fit the looney tunes ass universe of ofmd perfectly. they're mostly well-thought-out, well-executed and they showcase stede's strengths and growth! so allow me to talk about them:

1- ghost of the forest - 1x02

a fuckery™ before stede even knows what a fuckery™ is! this is amateurish and stupid in every way. he's not even threatening izzy with a real dagger-- that's a letter opener. does izzy actually believe that stede has a huge crew hiding behind the bushes? doubt it! but this weird little act is enough to establish stede as a (ridiculous) pirate figure to the legendary izzy hands and to accomplish his goal of taking a hostage back

2- lighthouse - 1x04

imagine coming up with the exact same idea at the exact same time as the most brilliant tactician of the seven seas! we don't know who came up with which parts of the plan (honestly it was probably mostly ed) but this is still bloody impressive

3- stark revelations - 1x05

stede's first big success! he uses his knowledge of the aristocratic world to get a shipful of rich assholes to destroy each other, but he's also showcasing what sets him apart from them: this plan only comes to fruition because stede talks to frenchie, olu and abshir as equals. as people he can learn from, as sources of inspiration

4- duel with izzy - 1x06

this one was absolutely unhinged, but its success was far from dumb luck. only stede could think of using a brazillian cherry wood mast and ed's weird stabbing lesson to win a duel, and that's what makes this plan so undeniably stede and brilliant

5- faking his death - 1x10

i love that he just had to "die" in the most dramatic way possible. a heroic fight (tiger), a realistic accident (carriage) and the most cartoony death in the book (piano)... not only is his triple-death able to convince everyone in barbados that he's dead for good, it also allows him to have closure with his family. it's filled with stede's ridiculous unique flair, but it's designed to be a fuckery™ through and through. ed would be SO proud

6- stealing jackie's indigo dye - 2x01

quick little stealth mission. did ricky manipulate stede into trying this out? sure. did ricky also ruin it? absolutely. but it was working until then! the swede isn't part of stede's crew at this point, but his respect for stede is what gets him to cooperate and risk his relationship with his beautiful wife. also, it's thanks to his love for fine things that stede immediately recognizes the value of "blue dirt"

7- prison break - 2x03

in my eyes no scene depicts stede's growth better than this one. knocking zheng's entire crew out with tea is the most stede thing out there, and this plan uses the cherry wood mast as well! this plan relies on stede's (unrealistic) tea knowledge, overly-fancy ship and ability to coordinate his crew. what makes it breathtaking is that he secretly sets this plan into motion while actively mourning the "death" of the love of his life. he's putting his life on the line to rescue ed's "killers" because he's emotionally mature enough to look at things from their perspective and forgive them

8- inciting a mutiny - 2x06

yet another brilliant plan that could only be executed by stede. this entire episode revolves around his idea of "turning poison into positivity" and here he, well, fights poison with positivity. stede captains his pirates with respect and care (best he can) which just so happens to be the opposite of ned. he exploits this and gently gets ned's crew to turn on him. he singlehandedly saves himself and his entire crew from a notorious pirate! oh he also literally invents walking the plank right after this

9- "it's only suicide if we die" - 2x08

okay, yes, this one didn't go that well (sorry iz). but it's not like ed, zheng or anyone else had any other ideas! stede's weird suicide mission, for the most part, worked. they needed to get through british soldiers to reach their ship and they did exactly that. if only they'd remembered to check if ricky had his gun... oh well, you live and you learn

sure, ed and zheng are legends and stede is a silly newbie with wild luck. but he's also quick-witted, creative, confident and brave! he's a damn good captain and he deserves to be recognized as a good strategist!

[w2beastars]

Waezi2′s thoughts on “Beast Complex” chapter 24.

Paru is back at it again!

Meet South the Iguana.

South is a twenty-nine year old lizard. Saying he is an alcoholic might be an exaggeration... but he very much have an alcohol problem. Having sensitive skin and living in a very warm area, South needs to stay hydrated, but he choose to mainly drink beer instead of water. Partly because of how it affects his skin but also o make it easier for him to not think about his problems.

But then his excessive drinking is cock-blocked by a penguin inside the beer fridge... Still not the weirdest thing I ever wrote.

Yeah, a baby penguin somehow ended up in the store where South gets his favorite brand of beer. To stay cool in the very warm area South lives in, the little guy is now inside the beer fridge and refuse to leave. Begrudgingly, South takes the little penguin to his small apartment so the shop can stock up on beer again.

Having a guest in his home for the first time in ages, South realize that his place is not just dirty, it is rather empty. He sleeps on a mattress, has a fridge for his beer and food and a microwave oven for his meals. His home is about as pathetic as he is.

As South thinks about how his life is kind of a fart, we learn something... shocking about this iguana.

Something that you have never seen before in Beastars OR in Beast Complex. Something so odd that you might find it revolting. It will make you wonder if Paru was even more unhinged than she normally is while making this comic!

You see, South...

... was in a relationship with a female WHO IS THE SAME SPECIES AS HIM!

Trust me, dear reader. I'm as shocked as you are! A Beast Complex character who was NOT dating an animal completely different from them?!

What madness is this?!

Okay, seriously speaking.

We get some good ol' Paru symbolism as we see that South's life has for a while revolved around his fridge. Or rather, what is inside it. It got out of hand to the point that his (same-species?!?!?) girlfriend dumped him and his boss feeling so sorry for him that he makes him take a break instead of downright firing him.

So South drinks when he gets anxious. But his increasing drinking makes him more anxious, which results in him drinking even more, making him more anxious and so on. As he thinks about his boss and ex, he once again gets "thirsty" and practically tears his fridge oepn.

South would probably end up as a drunken waist... if not for his new "roommate."

See, the thing about depression is that you often ends up alone, either because the people around you lose their patience or you choose to be alone. And when you are alone with a minimum of interaction with the real world, you stop caring about the small things like cleaning your home, a proper diet and your economy.

Best thing to do is actually to be useful somehow. Like doing voluntary work or getting a pet. Or in this case, a penguin in your fridge. If you are of use for someone else, you feel a little better about yourself.

And that's what South is to the baby penguin he has named Sam(a reference to the Japanese word for "cold"). The two of them can't really talk since Sam is a sea animal and has a entirely different language.

Whenever South has his panic attacks and go for a beer, he is instead met by the fluffy little bird in the fridge. So South has to clean the fridge for penguin poop and also spend extra hours in his part-time job since he spends more money on electricity because of Sam being inside the fridge. As the days pass, South finds himself acting like, well... a functional adult.

One day, South gets a reason to panic again as he realize that Sam is losing his white coat and looks skinny instead of fluffy.

If you know a thing or two about penguins, then you will know that there is nothing to worry about. But South knows jack shit about these birds, so he rush him to a hospital on his bicycle.

On their way, they pass the ocean... and we get this majestic moment.

There was nothing to worry about, Sam is just growing up and losing his fluff, finally ready to leave his nest and get in the ocean.

A pair of dolphins are luckily near and South has managed to learn to speak a little sea language so he can ask the dolphins to escort the young penguin to Antarctica.

Despite Sam having left his apartment, South still have a little of Sam in his fridge as the penguin sends him letters on pieces of ice.

So South's life still revolves around his fridge so to say, just in a much healthier way.

This was such a nice tale about a guy rebuilding his life by having to be dependent for someone else.

... Even if South is a freak, dating a fellow iguana. BE A FURRY LIKE EVERYONE ELSE, SOUTH!

I'm Waezi2, and thanks for wasting time with me.

[i-am-a-secret-ssshhh]

Obey Me X Twisted Wonderland Prompt

Sort of a Solomon x MC prompt! 

This goes for an MC that goes to Twisted Wonderland after they go through Nightbringer, but the Obey Me Boys from the OG game come to get them from Twisted Wonderland.

I think that if this were to happen, MC would immediately turn to Solomon before they even considered happily and affectionately greeting the brothers or the others. Because they don’t know if these Obey Me Boys come from the past or the present, but they do know that no matter where they were, Solomon was himself and was there for them. 

Obviously, the brothers would be hurt, but if Solomon told them about what happened during Nightbringer, they might understand. If he hadn’t, then they will be extremely jealous, wondering why they’re human is acting like this with the Shady Sorcerer. 

I can imagine MC seeing Solomon, stopping whatever they were doing, and immediately rushing over, tackling him into a hug. Like this, maybe,

.

MC: No, no, Crewel wanted us to measure it in percentages of weight, not percentages of volume. No wonder you’re not doing too well in that class.

Deuce: How do you know all this? I don’t have it anywhere in my notes that we’re supposed to do it that way. 

MC, glancing down and thinking about their favorite person: Just, had someone tutor me a while back. They were a very good teacher.

Epel: Was it Vil? He’s good at potions, but I don’t know anyone who could last against his teaching.

MC, laughing: No, it wasn’t Vil.

Vil approaches angrily.

Ace: Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.

MC, trying to avoid another Overblot: What’s up, Vil?

Vil: The new exchange student put in my dorm!

MC, realizing he’s come to vent all his problems to them, as they’re the unpaid therapist: I forgot Crowley was doing that today. I wasn’t invited because my dorm is unofficial and too small for new students. What’s wrong with your new student?

Vil: He’s just so infuriating! It’s like he’s only ever relied on his looks, and acts as though the world revolves around him!

Epel, under his breath: Reminds me of someone else I know.

MC, smacking Epel: Well, surely there has to be something good about him?

Vil: His social media skills are commendable, and he seems very good at reading people. But it’s hard to approach him. He seems rather attached to two of the Diasomnia exchange students.

MC: That’s a little surprising. Most people are afraid of Diasomnia students.

Sebek: Clearly this new exchange student just has good taste!

MC, slowly putting the pieces together: You know, the description of the exchange student reminds me of someone I know.

Ace: Think it’s them?

MC: It’s possible, but doubtful.

Solomon, approaching the group: Never doubt my abilities, dear apprentice.

MC immediately drops their notes and other things, rushing past Vil and their friends towards Solomon.

MC, tackling the sorcerer: Solomon! I missed you so much!

Solomon, laughing, and patting their head affectionately: I missed you as well.

Asmodeus: Did you miss me, darling?

Solomon, helping MC up, waits to see their reaction.

MC, unsure of how to approach the demon: Of course I missed you, Asmo.

Asmo, blinks when he is not also bombarded with affection like Solomon was: Then, where’s my hug?

MC: Did you want one?

Asmo, pouting: Of course!

.

Or with any of the brothers and others. 

If MC is dating Solomon they could tackle him into a hug and then start kissing all over his face. It’d be really funny if the brothers and others didn’t know they were dating and were just so shocked to see them being so romantically affectionate with Solomon. 

Or, if they got married as a sort of formality, they were practically already married in Nightbringer as they lived together and acted like a married couple, and no one knew. Like, just one day they went and filed a marriage certificate and didn’t tell anyone so when the Twisted Wonderland characters ask who this person is, they very easily respond with “My Husband”, and everyone on both sides is in shock

[haveatthee83]

Mr. Greatness (Gojo Satoru/Reader) Oneshot

Inspo: I just wanna hug this poor mary sue.

ONESHOT 1/1

Word Count: ~10k

Warnings/notes: Angst, fluff, smut, sad Gojo, no one is dead, fuck you Gege you damned sadist, biting, love at first bite (of food, I swear), face sitting, funny Nanami.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Gojo Satoru was bored. He was so bored he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Hell, he’d started to think about messing around with infinity and seeing what happened. That’s when you appeared.

When you first came around, Gojo didn’t think much of it. In fact, he all but ignored you the first two weeks you were at Tokyo Jujutsu High. When you two were introduced, all he gave out was a “hiya!” and a joke about you being a fan-you weren’t. You were hired to help teach the first years when Gojo was out on business, and act as a school nurse of sorts, being very well versed in healing with your cursed energy as well as fighting. You were there to help them on missions and keep up their training in his absence. Afterall-as much as Gojo would like to think it does-the world doesn’t revolve around him. So started a little game of hearing all these tales of the wonderful new teacher and how powerful she was, even how much better than Gojo she was from the first years-more than once. No matter how little he cared about how they were delusional enough to think anyone was better than him, Gojo’s curiosity peaked.

One day, all three first years came to a mission with Gojo all equipped with large, fancy bento boxes. All filled to the nines with homemade food with cute designs throughout. They even had personalized notes in each. It was enough food for two meals plus dessert EACH! How was Gojo not supposed to be confused, intrigued, anything?!

“Isn’t Nurse-sensei just the best?!” Kugisaki exclaimed to the other first years, giddy as she fawned over the fresh sushi and homemade strawberry cream cake.

“Put that food away, and let me explain the mission,” Gojo sulked, jealous. ‘I wish someone would make me homemade bento…’

Itadori perked up and smiled, “You have one to, Gojo-sensei!” he said, presenting the intricate, stacked bento. Gojo was taken aback, staring at the bento as Yuji handed it to him, noting the blue fabric wrapping it, and the sleek, navy chopsticks on top.

He gently grabbed the note on top, “I hope we can be friends, Mr. Greatness <3 -Nurse-Sensei” Gojo stared at the note longer than he probably should have, a weird feeling in his gut.

Itadori nudged him with his foot, “Hey, you in there?” Gojo looked back up at the boy, nodding before shoving the note in his pocket, and swinging the bento box over his shoulder.

“About those cursed spirits, eh?” he smiled.

It was an abandoned building next to a hospital. A serial killer had come through and systematically tortured and killed multiple homeless people, so it was a breeding ground for cursed spirits, one of which sat gluttonous on the top floor, growing rounder and larger by the day by eating the lower spirits around it, and becoming more powerful.

Gojo and the kids were fanned out in front of the cursed spirit, its gaping maw almost bigger than its head. What it lacked in mobility, it made up for in brute strength. Itadori proved that by taking a hit to the back and practically bouncing like a basketball before scrambling back to formation with the others. Megumi summoned his dog to attack, going for the thing’s limbs to distract it, while Kugisaki and Itadori attacked its flanks. Gojo came in for the final blow. Nothing too hard, but the three students had their fair share of wounds at the end. So, they waited for Ijichi to take them back to the school.

As they sat on the curb, awaiting their great chariot, Gojo couldn’t help but fiddle with the note in his pocket.

“What’d Nurse-sensei make you, Gojo-sensei?” Yuji muttered through a mouth full of noodles. Gojo’s eyebrows furrowed, but as he looked at the three first years and noticed that all three had different foods in their lunches, all customized to their tastes.

Megumi swallowed a bite of shogayaki, “I wonder if she made something you actually like. I don’t think you’ve talked that much.”

Gojo wondered too, so despite himself, he opened the bento only to find it full of a variety of sweets and rice balls of different flavors and combinations topped with teriyaki sauce and sesame seeds. The bottom layer was full of sweet mochi and macarons of all different colors. Gojo’s eyes practically sparkled behind his blindfold as he took in the beautiful food laid out before him. Taped to the bottom of the lid was another note “The kids told me you have quite the sweet tooth, so I made some guesses. I hope you like it! <3 -Nurse-Sensei”

Kugisaki laughed into her hand before putting another piece of sushi in her mouth, readying a piece of watermelon. “I think you’re in love, Gojo-sensei!” She sing-songed. Gojo waved her off, his ears getting warm, before diving into the rice balls. The savory-sweet flavor with the flaky fish and the delicious sauce could bring tears to a man’s eye.

“You might be right, Nobara,” giggled Yuji. Megumi even cracked a smile. Gojo gave a quick thwack to Yuji’s head as Ijichi’s black car turned the corner.

In the passenger seat of the car, Gojo once again found himself messing with the now two notes in his pocket as he antsily waited to get back to the school and finish his meal.

Megumi stretched uncomfortably in the back seat, “I think I should pay Nurse-sensei a visit. That big curse snagged me good on my side back there.” The other two students quietly agreed, Kugisaki getting a mischievous grin.

“Gojo-sensei?” she asked, leaning up in between the two front seats.

“You should really sit back, Miss Ku-“

“Shut it, Ijichi. Why don’t you come to her office with us? Make sure we get there safe?”

“But we all know-“ The girl shut Itadori up with a jab to his bruised side.

“Please?” she begged, puppy dog eyes in full effect.

Gojo was suspicious but agreed. It gives him a chance to say thank you for the delicious lunch.

When they all got back to the school, Gojo felt ridiculous when he realized that your office was just down the hall of what was supposed to be his. As the motley crew approached your door, a small bundle of nerves spawned in Gojo’s chest and it took him a moment to think of the last time he’d truly felt nervous like this, nevertheless here he was two steps away from hyperventilating if he wasn’t careful.

“Nurse-sensei!” The three first years chimed, squeezing into your room. Gojo could hear you before he could see you. Your laugh chimed around the frame of the door, and he could feel his ear twitch and a smile creep onto his face. But the gulp of nerves bit through it a bit. As he turned the corner and stood in the doorway, he caught view of you beginning to dote on the high schoolers already. When you glanced up at him, your eyes stuttered a moment, flicking to scan him.

You gave him a bright smile, “You must be Gojo Satoru, huh?”

He gave you an ear-splitting grin back, “What happened to Mr. Greatness?” your ears went a little hot, and you let out a little chuckle. “Thanks for the food, it’s really tasty.” He said, holding up the bento box and bouncing off the door frame.

You patted the medical bed and told the three first years to hop up, “How was my guess-Yuji stop touching that.” You said, smacking his hand away from a slash that started to scab around the edges.

“Spot on,”

“The kids helped a bit.”

“We’re not kids, Nurse-sensei!” the three muttered. You rolled your eyes and continued cleaning their wounds, making quick work of them. Before Gojo even had a chance to notice, their wounds were all three completely gone. And they all looked reenergized to boot.

“That’s really something,” Gojo mumbled, sitting backwards in your unattended rolling chair. He put his elbow on its backrest and set his chin on his fist. He lightly licked his bottom lip as he analyzed your cursed energy. It flowed in a way that intrigued him, it loved to concentrate in your hands, and it moved smoothly, avoiding the rapid fiery flow of most energy. It seemed that everything about you was piquing his interest. He had to know more, he had to get you on his side. Surely you have reservations with the old man higher ups, and he could see you being an asset to his cause.

“Thank you, Nurse-sensei!” the highschoolers chimed, getting up and giving you a brief hug, Megumi staying back and merely patting your shoulder.

“Why don’t you three get on back and rest up. I have a pretty intense training session lined up for tomorrow” you said, laughing at their appalled faces. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to get to know your Gojo-sensei!” The three got up and sulked out of the room towards their living quarters, and you turned, hopping up onto the medical bed, looking down on Gojo who was still sat with his chin in his hand, admiring you a bit.

“So, this is who’s been taking care of my little protégés when I’m gone, huh?” Gojo said, “I guess they’ve been in good hands.” You scoffed playfully, grabbing your tea from the side table you laid it on before he’d come in.

“You could say that again,” you said before sipping from your now lukewarm tea. You made a face before smirking at Gojo and wrapping both hands around your mug and slowly a wisp of steam started to pour from the top of the liquid. “Never liked my hot tea cold.” You almost on reflex offered Gojo a sip of the tea.

He almost refused out of habit, but the thought popped into his head ‘Did the cursed energy affect the taste?’ so he nodded slowly and reached out a hand for the mug, rolling a bit closer so he could reach it. He grabbed the top of the mug, the tips of his fingers brushing your hand, a spark of static spooking you. He just laughed and took a sip.

“When I use my cursed energy like that, I can get a little static-y” you said, rubbing your neck and pulling at your skirt’s hem. The tea tasted good, great even. The sugar adding to the full, bitter flavor of the black tea, and the touch of milk made it creamy and smooth. The tea filled him with warmth from the inside out, and he felt a tingle in his fingertips, from the tea or touching you-he couldn’t tell.

“Hm! Still tastes good,” he said, almost to himself.

You nodded enthusiastically, “I’ve been experimenting with infusing my cursed energy into food, especially to heal people in battle when I can’t be there!”

“You could use that as a weapon too, couldn’t you?” You nodded again, leaning down almost eye to eye with Gojo.

“It would be perfect for covert missions, assassinations, anything like that! With those cursed spirits getting smarter, if we were able to use this while suppressing my soul signature we could do so much!” you had wide, thrilling eyes glimmering with ideas.

“Always loved a mad scientist,” Gojo joked.

You blushed a bit and waved him off, sitting up straight. “Not crazy, not a scientist.”

He sat up, pushing himself even closer to you in the chair, handing you your tea back, “You gotta be a little crazy to be in this line of work.”

You nodded, taking a sip of your tea and setting it back down. “Not crazy enough, sometimes.” You crossed your legs, and leant your chin on your hand, resting your elbow on your knee and looking at Gojo at eye level again. “I’ll protect those kids with my life. Those crusty old men won’t touch Yuji if I’m alive-got it Satoru?”

Gojo’s eyes widened, nodding in understanding. “Yes ma’am.”

You suddenly slid off the bed, gently taking Gojo’s face in your hands at your middle, “Let me check you out, Mr. Greatness.”

Gojo’s ears turned red at the tips, and he choked up. “I-I don’t get hurt, I’m okay,” You smiled and rolled your eyes, patting the bed anyway.

“Now,” you lightly demanded. He got up and switched places with you, sitting on the paper covered bed, “We all have scars, little wounds that never healed right.” You worked quickly and nimbly, working your fingers over the crevices of his face and torso, your eyes glowing slightly as your cursed energy flowed. Gojo could feel your energy flowing through his body-a foreign but not unwelcome feeling. It felt like a rush of cold water over his muscles and in his bloodstream, rinsing his systems and refreshing him from the inside. You moved to flutter over his legs starting over his strong thighs and over his lithe calves and he could feel his muscles relax, and the mild joint pain of a long day fade away. “See? We all could use a little refresh once in a while.”

Gojo smiled for the umpteenth time since he’d met you, “You really are something.”

And you smiled too, biting your lip and smacking his arm.

That’s how it started, you two made a little routine. You’d make Gojo and the kids bento boxes that they’d take on missions, Gojo’s you’d begun to infuse with your cursed energy to experiment with its healing properties. He’d come back with the first years, you’d heal them up, and you two would talk about the merits of the food and would talk for a while.

---

One day the pattern of course had to shift. One day Gojo was called on a mission. No kids. Just him and Nanami Kento. Clearly whatever it was, was powerful. It was going to be intense. And intense it was. Gojo came out fine, as expected, but lugged Nanami into your office with heaving breaths and his eyes uncovered, full of tears.

“Help him!” he begged, shoving Nanami onto the medical bed, not even giving you a chance to stand from your desk. In desperation, Gojo grabbed you by the arm, slamming your hand onto an uninjured part of the blond’s body. He was bleeding from multiple gashes and was fading in and out of consciousness.

You shook off the shock and got to work, letting your cursed energy flow into Kento’s body. You felt the energy move through his veins, finding all the gouges, cuts, bruises and began closing the blood vessels and redirecting it where it belonged. His wounds were severe, so it took longer than it usually did when you were just healing up one of the kids after a run-of-the-mill mission.

“What’s taking so long,” Gojo shakily asked, gripping your medical coat, and shoving his head in your shoulder.

“He’s coming along, Satoru,” You muttered, leaning your head back into his. “Sit down, your tea is on my desk on the warmer.” After this became routine you bought a tea warmer for Gojo and a mug for him to keep in your office so you could share a cup while discussing your students. Gojo just gripped your coat harder and dug his head in your shoulder, wrapping his other arm around your waist and shoving his head in the crook of your shoulder. “Please, hon. I promise I’ll tell you the second I’m done.” You felt a rush of cold against your neck as he got up, his tears cooling your skin.

Gojo sat in your chair and grabbed the tea off the warmer and shakily took a sip. The warm, sweet liquid flowed down his throat and almost made him take a deep breath, his hands steadying just that little bit more.

You were hard at work for what felt like hours still, and if he wasn’t so wrecked by nerves, Gojo would have probably fallen asleep.

“He just needs to sleep now,” you said, slumping against your desk next to where Gojo had laid his head. You gently threaded your fingers through his stark white hair, quietly sighing as you took a sip from Gojo’s tea-yours long gone cold.

“I wish you could heal my brain,” Gojo whispered.

You took a start, looking down at the invincible man under your fingers. You thought for a moment, chewing on your lip before shaking your head and sinking down to the floor, able to see Gojo’s eyes clearly, now dry but hollow almost. “Beautiful…” you whispered, it was practically ripped from your lips, while placing your hand on his cheek. His eyes flicked to yours, taking you in again. “I can’t heal your brain the way you want. You know that, but I hope my being here for you helps…whatever little it does.” Suddenly he could really take in your paled face and your dark circles under your eyes that weren’t that way this morning.

His jaw clenched, and suddenly he felt selfish. Gojo Satoru felt selfish. Here you were, tired after constantly waiting up for him, helping him, healing everyone else, and here he was again-crying, drinking your tea, and making you sit on the fucking floor. But still, he couldn’t help but be a little more selfish. “Stay with me tonight?” the words spilling out before his brain could stop them.

Your eyebrows raised, but that was the extent of your shock or rejection, because before he could even try to backtrack, you were rubbing his cheek with your thumb and nodding with a soft smile. ‘Of course, you said yes.’ He thought. He shouldn’t expect any different at this point, that’s just who you are.

“Your place or mine?” You asked with a chuckle. His eyes squeezed shut with a pained grin at the innuendo. He’d love that, but that’s not what tonight is. That’s not what tonight should be either.

“Mine?”

“Nanami will be okay through the night. He’s just exhausted now and needs to reenergize himself. He’s been through the wringer, poor guy.” You said, grabbing Gojo’s hand and leading him towards the door. You stopped in the doorway only to take off your medical coat and hang it and other equipment on pegs next to it. You turned off the lights with one last look at Nanami and padded down the hall with Gojo in tow, still holding tightly to the tall man’s hand. He couldn’t help but stare down at your conjoined limbs, and he subconsciously reached into his pocket with his free hand, gently rubbing the edge of today’s note. “Come home safe, Mr. Greatness <3-Nurse-sensei” you had stuck to the sign-off even though you’re on a first-name basis, saying it’s just something you’d gotten used to, with signing the kid’s notes the same way. Gojo kept reassuring you he wouldn’t be hurt and not to worry, but you couldn’t help but wait with bated breath for the day he gets rolled into your office and you’re pouring all your energy into healing him until the sun rises. It was comforting sometimes, someone not thinking Gojo was immortal. Even if it meant you were worried about him.

When the two of you reached his door, you looked back at him expectantly, seeing as he would have the key, and he stumbled with the ring, almost missing the lock. You chuckled and pushed the door open as he turned on the light. You whistled softly, looking around the room.

“So, this is where the great Gojo Satoru lives?” you scanned the space, taking note of the offshoot bedroom and the small-spotless-kitchen. “Looks an awful lot like mine. Except I actually cook in my kitchen,” you teased.

Gojo closed the door behind you, heat creeping up his neck, both of you kicking off your shoes.

“Guess you don’t have to do much of that with me around, huh?” The white-haired man started to grumble about how he shouldn’t have invited you over when you whirled around with a smile and asked what he needed right now, “Sleep, food, rom coms and ice cream?”

He shook his head and started to feel how deeply sleep was settling into his bones, “As tempting as that last one is, I really want to go to sleep,” he watched you smile, like you always did, and reach behind him, turning off the light, and grab his hand again, leading him towards his bedroom. When inside you went over to the lamp, tuned it on, and made Gojo sit on the mattress.

“Where are your pajamas, Satoru?” You said as you began to head towards his dresser like a woman on a mission, he panicked but wasn’t fast enough, you opened his top left drawer and inside you saw a small basket full of all the notes you had written Gojo. No matter how torn up they’d gotten in the heat of battle, or food stained by his own mistake, he kept them. He had every single one. He’d look at them, read them on rough nights alone, and they helped him through a lot. More than you’d ever know. You slowly turned to him, a soft gasp on your face, and a note in your hand. “You kept them all?”

Gojo put his head in his hands and nodded, “You weren’t supposed to see that…” You couldn’t drop the massive grin on your face, but you dropped it for now.

“About those pajamas,” you said.

“Second drawer from the top on the left.”

You nodded and opened the drawer, grabbing out a soft shirt and pants set, throwing them at Gojo. “Go get cleaned up and changed. I’m guessing that’s a bathroom?” gesturing to the door attached to the bedroom. Gojo nodded and got up, trudging to the tiled room.

‘Bossy’ he thought, ‘I like it.’ he shook his head and splashed his face with water from the sink. When he was done changing, he looked himself over in the mirror, staring at his own eyes for a moment. Looking at the thing that defined him to so many, ‘but not her.’ He thought. You never were even interested in his power most of the time. He always thought he’d want someone who’d worship him. Someone who would make him feel like the god he is, but then there’s you. Someone who made him feel like…him. Like a regular person, on the same level as each other. He liked feeling equal to you. Could he take you in a fight? Probably, yeah. Did that matter-oddly no. Not with you. He filled his lungs to capacity and threw his soiled uniform in the laundry and turned off the bathroom light.

When he opened the door into his bedroom again, he was confused to find you with a few spare blankets and pillows from the hall closet, setting up on the ground.

“Hurry on to bed, Gojo! I’m almost through setting myself up.”

“Oh no you don’t!” he exclaimed, grabbing you around the middle, and tossing you onto his bed. “You are absolutely not sleeping on the floor! I know how to share, weirdo!”

You squirmed, standing on your knees on the bed, grabbing onto Gojo to steady yourself on the mattress so you could look him in the eye, “I don’t want to intrude on your spa-!“

“I invited you, stupid.”

“Why would I have just assumed that you’d let me sleep in you-“

“Why would you assume I’d make you sleep on the floor?”

You paused, ears running red, but you couldn’t resist the joke, “Are you trying to get in bed with me, Satoru?” he sighed in exasperation, shoving you backwards onto your back.

“Will you get ready for bed already?” he muttered as he moved over to find a t-shirt and gym shorts for you to wear. “Here,” he tossed the set at you over his shoulder, them landing on your head.

“Jeez, now you’re trying to get me out of my pants!” Gojo whirled, exasperated and shoved your laughing frame into the bathroom and shut the door. When he was alone, he ran a hand through his hair and decidedly flopped onto the bed over the blankets. Finally, after muffled yelling into the covers, he brought himself up to sit against the headboard. ‘Why did I do this to myself?’ he thought.

“Ta da!” You sarcastically sang, posing in the door, wearing Gojo’s clothes. You’d even stolen one of Gojo’s pairs of sunglasses he had left in the bathroom to complete the look. They didn’t exactly fit, but Gojo couldn’t help but stare with a smile. He loved the sight of you in them.

You chuckled your way over to the bed, hopping up next to Gojo, and dropping your clothes folded onto the ground. He took in the sight of you, right next to him, your scent mixing with his cologne-his new favorite smell, your eyes hidden by his sunglasses, and your hair haphazardly put out of your face from your day’s work. And while he stared, he could feel his heart skip a beat. You were staring back-inches from his own gaze.

“Let’s get some sleep, Satoru,” you whispered, sliding his sunglasses off your nose and gently shoving them onto his head. He nodded, putting the glasses onto his side table and turning off his lamp. They both slid under his blankets, laying on their backs.

“Thank you,” Gojo whispered, grabbing for your hand. You brought it up to his and turned on your side, facing him. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met- “

“-and I’ve met me.” You both chimed, you mimicking Gojo with a grin he could just feel.

“I’m serious.” He said, bring your hand up to his face and placing it against his chin, now grabbing it with both of his hands, “I think I’d do anything for you,” he mumbled, gently pressing his lips to your knuckles-not quite a kiss, but not not one either. He’d leave that up to you.

You reached up with your free hand and stroked his cheekbone with your knuckles, brushing his fluttering eyelashes with your pointer finger. “I’d burn the world for you, Gojo Satoru. And I’d bring it back if you just asked.” You whispered, resting your forehead against his hands holding yours, and curling your body into him, tangling your legs together. He responded by wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you ever closer, half onto his chest, stroking your hair.

---

And that’s how you woke up, wrapped in Gojo’s arms, tangled beneath the sheets as the sun shone through the curtains. You glanced at the man’s alarm clock and a jolt of panic shot through you when you read the time. You were both late for training the kids. And you knew it was only a matter of time before they came looking. It was one of their favorite days, after all. A training day with “mom and dad” as they’d dubbed the two of you.

“Gojo!” You whisper yelled, tapping his chest rapidly, “Satoru!” you whined. He didn’t budge, his eyes closed tight. You felt horrible disturbing his peaceful sleep, but you really didn’t want to explain to the first years that no, you and Gojo weren’t sleeping together, you just slept together. “Satoru-kun! Baby, come on!” Still, the man was like stone!

Finally, you gave up, gently banging your head against the man’s chest. You tried gentler methods, you really did! “Here goes,” you rested your pointer finger on his nose and channeled a strong static shock to his unsuspecting face.

His eyes shot open, and his hand practically slammed into his face to get rid of the sensation. “The hell-“

“GOJO-SENSEI! NURSE-SENSEI IS MISSING!” Itadori’s brash yelling could be heard from far down the hall. You and Gojo shared a wide-eyed look of panic as you both scrambled to look presentable.

“Bathroom!” Gojo whispered, violently gesturing you to hide in the bathroom, unceremoniously throwing you your clothes from your side of the bed. You caught them as best you could and rushed into the bathroom, locking the door. Gojo whipped the sunglasses from his bedside table onto his face and rushed to his dresser to grab out his normal training attire, shoving off his night clothes. He could hear the kids banging on his front door, scared for their precious Nurse-sensei. Just as Gojo shoved his pants button in place and zipped up, the three broke through his front door.

“Gojo-sensei!” the first years were shocked to find their sensei in a state of disarray. Huffing breath, wrinkled clothes, no shoes, and instead of his usual blindfold, he had on one of his pairs of civilian wear sunglasses.

“Kids!” he welcomed, shoving his bedroom door closed. The three eyed him with obvious suspicion. Itadori in particular kept a wide berth from the tall man, but inched closer to the door Gojo was clearly trying to protect.

The first years shared a shifty look and a nod before jumping to action. Kugisaki and Megumi jumped to grab Gojo’s arms and hold him down as Yuji ran and burst open the bedroom door, frantically looking around every surface before resorting to opening the dreaded bathroom door.

“Itadori-no!” Gojo yelled, tempted to use cursed energy on the kids, but last minute decided against eviscerating the brats. Unfortunately, that meant that Itadori opened the door.

“Nurse-sensei!” Yuji yelled, appalled. He had caught you, still in Gojo’s clothes, trying to sneak out the bathroom window.

“Hi, Yuji…” you muttered, trying to cover up the obvious fact of your bra not being on you, and still on Gojo’s floor with your clothes from yesterday.

“Explain!” Kugisaki exclaimed, following Itadori into Gojo’s bedroom. That’s when she saw your bra. Because of course she did. She let out a squeal at the sight, “You two had sex!” she yelled.

“No!” You and Gojo yelled, you trudging in to stand by the man who had recovered physically from the kids’ tackle but not emotionally and gently pat his shoulder.

“Then explain this!” Kugisaki exclaimed, holding up your bra for all three males to see. You flushed red, snatching it from her.

Gojo’s cheeks also began to flush, “You weren’t wearing a bra last night?”

“No! They’re uncomfortable to sleep in!” you swatted Gojo’s arm with just enough cursed energy to sting.

“You’re that cruel, Gojo-sensei!” Yuji shook his head, ashamed of his mentor.

“Why would she even be with such a guy,” Kugisaki joined the head shaking.

“Such a selfish lover,” Megumi agreed.

Gojo was confused, hopelessly. So, you had to clear the fog in his poor little brain, you took a deep breath as you leaned up to quietly state, “Satoru, they think you don’t…you don’t um…”do foreplay”.” You explained with quotes around some of your words. “They think you don’t give head.” You giggled out, whispering in his ear.

Gojo’s jaw dropped lower than you thought it could, and his face got redder than you’d ever seen, “I’ll have you children know, I am a very generous lover, and I give excellent he-“you cut him off by slapping his mouth closed, doubled over with laughter.

The three looked grossed out, but still unconvinced.

“We really didn’t do anything like that, we just decided to have a sleepover while Nanami Kento is resting in my office since we were both so stressed. Satoru was kind enough to not make me wear my work clothes to sleep. Really.” You explained, hoping the truth would seep through their thick skulls.

They nodded suspiciously, but allowed the two of you to properly get ready, waiting outside the building Gojo lives in.

“Very generous, huh?” you chuckled with warm cheeks.

Gojo’s face flushed again, the tips of his ears bordering crimson, “You were supposed to find that out on your own, Nurse-sensei,” He purred with an air of comedy, “Guess now you can at least test the theory.”

You rolled your eyes, but never one to back down, you grabbed Gojo’s sunglasses and put them on your own face again and gripped him by the collar and pulled him close, so close your lips brushed his as you spoke, “Why don’t you show me, Mr. Greatness.”

---

Unfortunately for you both, that had to wait until later. Much later. The kids were in for a grueling day of conditioning and combat training, going Justu-less for hand-to-hand combat against you, which proved to be a daunting challenge. While Gojo’s Jutsus were immense and overbearing at how powerful they were, you were a fierce melee combatant who could use any environment to your advantage, your knowledge of the human body an immeasurable asset in disabling the kids, even the formidable Itadori Yuji wasn’t much fuss to defeat for you. In fact, you expected better from the three, which you let them know. In spades. When you two were done with them at sundown, they were exhausted, and ready for you to heal them up and make them feel better.

“No!” you said. The three high schoolers looked at you in horror, “You three were being rude, poking into my, and Satoru’s business! If you wanted nice Nurse-sensei today who’d heal you all up and make sure you didn’t go home sore tonight, you should have been nice this morning! Our business is our business, and if we let you know it, that’s the only time you should become privy to our private information. Got it?” they sluggishly nodded. “May your soreness be a lesson to you!” you exclaimed, ushering them up for the long walk back to their dormitories.

“Look at you, miss mean teacher.” Gojo chuckled.

You made a face, “Leave the nicknames to me, hon.” He nodded, brushing your pinky with his. “Check on Nanami then rom coms and ice cream?” you asked, grasping his hand. He nodded.

---

“Matthew McConaughey is doing Kate Hudson so dirty in this one,” Gojo mumbled through a large bite of the tub of white chocolate raspberry ice cream. He found out when he came to stay the night at your little slice of the world that you also make homemade ice cream! Like who does that? So, when he picked out this flavor out of the mix of options you had on hand, you were ecstatic to share.

“It’ll end well though,” you insist, “always does in these.”

Gojo nodded, noticing you beginning to lean his way a bit. “You can lay on me if you want,” he urged, moving the ice cream off his lap to the coffee table. You looked hesitantly between him and his lap, covered by your plush blanket. He laughed, “here,” he readjusted himself, so he was laying against the corner between the couch arm and the back, his legs sprawling behind you, and gestured you to lay on top of him and cuddle. You bit your lip with a small grin before pulling back his end of the blanket and slotting yourself on top of him, facing the television. He wrapped his arms around you and tangled his long legs with yours. You settled, intertwined with him and began to softly stroke patterns into his wrist and arms.

“You’re pretty comfy.” You muttered, straining your neck to look at Gojo, who’s upside down face gazed onto yours fondly.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. I slept like a baby last night, and I’m already feeling a bit sleepy now,” you huffed out with a smile.

Gojo gave you that handsome smirk, and urged you to flip over, now laying on him chest to chest. “Want me to keep you up?” he joked, nudging your nose with his.

You again just barely brushed your lips with his as you spoke, “Buy me dinner first, Gojo. Satoru.” You punctuated your words just enough to apply slight pressure to the almost kiss.

He couldn’t take it anymore and ran his hand through the hair at the base of your neck, coaxing you forwards into a tender, brief kiss that felt so not him. So, when he pulled away to gauge your reaction with those big, beautiful eyes, you gave him only a moment to see your wide grin before closing the gap again. You kissed him with a fervor one would expect from himself, but he was so scared of ruining this, he let you take the lead. Your lips slotted against each other like long lost puzzle pieces, and you both could taste the cold, creamy remnants of the ice cream on each other’s tongues as you gained access.

You pulled away for a second, him following your lips, leaning up to chase where you had left. You weren’t going to leave him hanging, though. You pulled away, gesturing for Gojo to readjust to a sitting position so you could straddle him, still resting on his thighs, not broaching too far. But as you kneeled above him, legs on either side of him, holding his face with your soft hands, so close to your breasts, Gojo swore he saw a goddess above him. In that moment he swore he saw heaven, earth, and every realm between. He wasn’t using his cursed energy, but he swore he saw infinity. That’s when you leant down and captured his lips again, and his world came crashing back, here you were, his personal goddess to worship, and he your god. Fuck what he thought about you making him feel normal, you merely made him want to worship the way he knew he should be and that’s all the better. And god was he ready to make an offering.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and fiddled with his hair with a tug that shot a soft moan from his throat. You swallowed the sound with a grin, tickling the roof of his mouth with your tongue, and biting his lip as you pulled back so you could begin kissing his jaw, pulling his head back ever so softly with your grip on his hair. You began to nip on the sorcerer’s taught throat column, feeling the rush of his pulse beneath your lips, kissing over where you might have gotten a bit rough. Gojo moved his hands over your sides towards your hips, beginning to thumb the waistband of his shorts you had put back on for relaxing together tonight.

“God you’re amazing,” he whispered, uttering your name like a prayer. “Better than I ever dreamed,” You nipped his collarbone in response, diving your hands under the hem of his shirt, feeling the nimble muscles beneath his smooth skin. “Yes ma’am,” he muttered, letting you sit back on your haunches so he could rip off his t-shirt, and toss it somewhere towards the kitchen. You devoured him with your eyes and hands, eventually with your tongue as well, tasting your prize. You ran your mouth over his chest and abdomen, sliding lower and lower as you went, kissing every piece of him in your path. When you finally reached your destination, you looked up at Gojo through your lashes, grabbing his waistband in your teeth and snapping it.

“Another time, for now I have a point to prove!” he jokes, using what little leverage he had to grab you and shift his hold to under your thighs and stood. Bringing you with him. “Bedroom?” he asked. You nodded towards the short hallway off the living room, the door on the left. Gojo grinned and started over towards it, carrying you with ease. You busy yourself with leaving a hickey on this one spot of Gojo’s neck that almost made his knees buckle, much to his chagrin, and fuel for your actual grin. When he got into your room, he made quick work of laying you down on your mattress, taking in your appearance under the moonlight that filtered through the window opposite the door. As he took you in, your face flushed, and he began stroking his hands over your legs from knee to hip under those damned gym shorts. It should almost be illegal for you to look that good in his clothes. Almost.

“You always do that, Satoru,” You trail off, averting those pretty eyes from his.

“What?” he teased, leaning down over you, face inches from yours again.

“Stare.” You stated, pecking him before nudging him off with your foot, sitting now, but still in your spot where he laid you. “Makes me feel like you’re…scrutinizing me or something.” You said with a wrinkled nose.

Gojo kneeled on the floor in between your legs, dragging you forward by your hips, “Just looking at how beautiful you are, I mean, I can look all I want now. Can you blame me?” he asked, kissing the inside of your knee, wrapping his arms around your thighs, and resting his head on the plush of one, his big blue eyes filtering through those white lashes, still staring at your godly face.

“Where’d you come from, Gojo Satoru?” You asked, love clear in your gaze, an emotion Gojo only hoped to see from you days ago. “You really were made just for me, weren’t you?” you muttered.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you, love.” He said, beginning to tug on the waistband of those purely criminal shorts. “Now please take these off before I rip em off.” You grinned and lifted your hips so he could take them off and look at your beautiful legs all on their own. He ran his hands up and down the sides, taking in every bump, freckle, and curve. “And the underwear? Or at least the damned shirt.”

“How about both?” Gojo lit up, ready to help, he started pulling down on your waistband with one hand, and the hem of your tank top with the other. “On one condition,” you surmised, placing a finger under his chin. He deflated, resting his head against your leg again. “You’ll like it.”

He perked back up, kissing the inside of your thigh, and giving a gentle bite to the meat there, “Whatcha need, baby?”

You sat back on your hands, arching your back a bit. “You need to show me exactly what that dirty little mind has been dreaming of Satoru. How exactly you want me, okay honey?” you finished by dragging your top town a bit by the top hem, not enough for them to pop out, just enough to show you weren’t wearing a bra again. Gojo could feel his mouth watering at the sight, and lord was he willing to fulfill your request.

“Okay, you have to trust me,” Gojo muttered, rising to his feet again, laying a deep kiss on your lips, all his blood rushing south from his brain. You didn’t help when you broke the embrace to finally take off your tank top, placing his hands just under your breasts, encouraging him to explore as he liked. Explore he did. He mouthed over your chest, his cool hands pebbling your nipples, and grasping the mounds beneath them. “Let me lay down, alright?” he whispered, pecking your lips, before taking off his sweatpants and hopping on top of your mattress, head resting on your plush pillows. He settled down, gesturing for you to straddle him again. You obliged, and he rested his hands on your hips again, grinding your core on his length, concentrating along your clit, dragging as many huffs of air and low whines he could from you until he could feel a wet patch forming on his crotch from your arousal.

You moaned, and nipped under his ear when he made you stop, trying to let you continue the delicious friction. “Please, Satoru. Don’t be mean.” You muttered.

“How I want you, remember?” he trilled, nipping you back on the base of your neck. You nodded and stilled your squirming. Ready for his next request. “Now come on up. Take a seat, love.” He chuckled, gently trying to coax you to hover above his face so he could devour you from beneath your comforting weight.

Your ears burned red hot, “I’ve never done that before. You sure you’ll like it?” you asked, looking down to his smooth chest, hands still on his shoulders.

He squeezed your hips reassuringly, “Oh yeah, baby.” He said, taking your left hand in his right and leading it to his mouth and leaving a kiss on your palm. “Been wanting to since I saw you in that damned nurse’s skirt.” He kissed your thumb and gently nipped the tip of it between his teeth.

You raised yourself up and off him, he was scared he’d messed everything up, scared you off, but that’s when he saw you were maneuvering your underwear off your legs. As you were about to toss them in the dirty laundry in the dark, Gojo grabbed your wrist, “Since we’re getting risky with these requests on my part, what’s one more? Can I keep those?” he laughed at the ludicrous question, but the glint in your eye told him you were by no means turned off by it. You agreed and while holding his gaze, you hung the pair on the side of your headboard, so he knew exactly where they were tomorrow morning. His face hurt he was smiling so much, “You’re heaven-sent,” he assured, gripping a handful of the dough of your ass as you straddled his chest, knees on either side of his head.

“If you’re having trouble breathing, or you need me off for any reason, tap my leg twice.” You said, “Show me what you’ll do if you need me off, Satoru.” Gojo’s smile softened, tapping your left thigh twice. You took a deep breath and hovered yourself fully over his head, he looped his arms around your legs from below and pulled your core down onto his face, “Holy shit-“ you exclaimed, cut off by a moan as Gojo got right to work, lapping at your little bundle of nerves, making you shutter and you found yourself resisting the urge to ride the man’s face. But like the outrageous man he is, he read your mind. Using the leverage he had from his grip on your hips, you felt yourself being shifted back and forth, he was fucking you on his tongue. The muscle slid over your slit, urging its way inside while your clit continued to run along the length of his nose. You braced yourself against the headboard with one hand, and the other you used to grip Gojo’s hair at the root as a lifeline.

Gojo moaned into your core, and you found yourself throwing your head back, begging for more. He happily obliged, reaching one of his hands around to reach in one of his fingers into you, moving his tongue back to your clit, circling it with precision. ‘Better than the damn ice cream.’ He thought as he continued his torrent on you. Just that thought made the man rut into the air without even realizing. But you did. Next thing Gojo knows, he’s forced to withdraw his tongue in his mouth and come up for air because you reached down one of your lithe hands and grasped him through his boxers. You drew a long groan from the man’s throat, his eyes screwed shut. You shifted your hand under his waistband and began to gently stroke the tip with your thumb before grasping his shaft and pushing his boxers down far enough to give you full access to his length. Gojo pinched your thigh. You almost got off him before you remembered that wasn’t the signal. He doesn’t want you off. “You first, love.”

You pouted, “But you look so pitiful down there like that,” you said, eyeing his weeping tip. “Let me help?” He was tempted to say yes, but merely tempted.

“You put those hands back up here and ride my face like a cowgirl till you’re red in the face. Then, we can solve my little issue, okay?” Gojo demanded, once again pinching your thigh. You reluctantly put him back in his boxers, but that reluctance disappeared when Gojo added another finger and amped up the intensity. You had both hands supporting you from behind as you braced them against his abdomen, your breasts bouncing with the movement of Gojo rotating you along his tongue. You couldn’t help but peer down at Gojo with the new angle and was quickly finding the peak a lot faster than before as you stared into his blue eyes, tears pricking on the edges from denial to himself and yet hazed over from rendering himself pussy drunk under you.

“God, you’re perfect, Satoru.” You babbled, unable to tear your eyes off his, them staring straight back. “Made just for me, all mine.” He barely was able to nod in agreement, adding another finger-three now-into you, stretching you beautifully and bringing you ever closer to jumping off the cliff into the deep waters of pleasure below. Still, he kept up his same speed, his stamina relentless as he continued to fuck your clit against his tongue and pump is fingers in and out of you at a ruthless pace. You grew ever closer to the edge, but not quick enough for Gojo’s liking, so he changed tactics for a moment, maintaining his fingering, but adding suction to your clit, grazing the hood with his teeth, and that did it. You all but screamed, white knuckle gripping Gojo’s hips from above, sure to leave a mark if he’ll let it. And as he continued to finger fuck you through your high, you thought he just might.

When he finally gave you a chance to catch your breath, he took out his fingers and began to slowly lap up the remnants around your core of your orgasm. Only when he was satisfied did you feel two taps on your thigh. You obliged, sliding down Gojo’s torso, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, wrapping your sweat slick arms around his head, again threading your fingers through his hair.

“Point proven,” You muttered, kissing his neck and whispering “Now about your little problem,” in his ear, nuzzling his earlobe and grinding your sensitive core against his clothed length.

He groaned and wrapped his arms around your middle. “Two minutes, baby. Sensitive, keep going and I might jizz in my pants like a highschooler.” Gojo huffed, gnawing his lip. Your eyes sparkled at the assertion, peering in his eyes with mischief.

“You really got off that hard on eating me out?” You asked, sitting up on his waist, ass grazing the tip of his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers.

His cheeks ran red, bleeding blush onto his chest. His pretty blues avoided your hunting gaze. Only when you shifted backwards a bit did he look at you again, and it was brief as he squeezed his eyes shut tight, gripping your shoulders tight. “Please, baby, wanna cum with you, not like this,” He gasped, pawing at your heartstrings. Unfortunately, you’re not heartless so you softened, laying back down and resorting to kissing his neck, leaving marks along his collarbone, and feeling up his sides with featherlight touches. This kept his heartrate up and his lashes fluttering as he kneaded your ass and gave you access to everything you wanted in the meantime.

“Always wanted to make a guy cum in his pants,” You mumble, nipping the shell of his ear.

His grip on you tightened further, as he let out a whine. “Two damned minutes, love, that’s all I ask for!”

You huffed a laugh, “I can’t even talk?” you teased, tracing circles around his pebbled nipples.

“Not like that!” he asserted, throwing his head back in frustration and letting out another whine of denial. “Let me catch my damned breath, you minx!” You giggled, and asked if you should leave the room, which he immediately shot down with a deep, hard kiss to your lips and a grope of your ass.

You pulled away, pecking him on the lips before moving on to pecking him across his face. “How can I when you’re just so perfect and hot, and you’re right here like a big, beautiful present for me?” you queried between your barrage of pecks. You expected a laugh but when you peered into his crystal eyes again, he looked at you like you had hung the moon, like you were the sun itself warming him and giving him life. And in some ways, you were to him. Sometimes he found himself straying from where he should on his path to power, success, and happiness, but ever since he’s had you, he’s found his way back quicker and quicker. You are by far the best thing that has come into his life, and he’ll be damned if you don’t know it.

With that breather, you could feel his drive picking up underneath you, no cursed energy required. So, you tested the waters again, gently grinding your core across his length. His breath hitched but he grinned and nodded ‘Game on.’ You thought, reaching over him to your bedside drawer for the box of condoms you had stashed there. He eyed you when you brought out the wrapper and as you sat up you gulped down your nerves and admitted that “I bought them a little while after we started getting close. I had high hopes, I guess.” He outright belly laughed at that one, nodding and admitting to the same thing. Leading you to do the same, smacking his arm. Regardless, you got your wits about you and moved between the man’s thighs as he still chuckled away, palming him in his boxers to quiet him down. And quiet down he did, his eyes shooting open and rolling back in his head at the feeling. You made quick work of his boxers, freeing his aching cock and marveling the sight. His gaze was piercing as you gently stroked him up and down, spreading his precum along his length and working your nimble fingers over him to roll on the condom.

“How do you want me, Satoru?” you asked, idly stroking him around his shaft, avoiding the tip now. Call him cheesy, but Gojo wanted to go traditional missionary for your first time, maybe put you on top at the end. There’s plenty of time to try new positions and techniques later. Right now, he wants you close and he wants you now. So, he rolled you off him, onto your back, and after making sure you’re comfortable, him insisting on putting a pillow under your hips for your back and him doting on you some more, you grabbed Gojo’s face and shoved your lips against his, your tongues clashing immediately while you reached down and aligned his tip with your entrance.

He took the hint and braced himself above you, one hand next to your head and the other against the headboard for support before pushing in, only making it halfway before you both needed a brief pause, he could feel you clenching around him with the stretch, and it made his hips stutter at the feeling. See, you don’t know this, but it had been a while for Gojo. He was in a dry spell for a good while before you came along, and when he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t look at another girl the same way, even when the opportunity popped up, he couldn’t bring himself to. All he kept wishing was that they were you, so he had to decline, the thought of seeing you the next day too enticing for him to even want to sleep with other women. And anytime he found himself hot below the collar, he could only think of you again, but it felt wrong to touch himself to you, so he resorted to thinking of gross, or simply the least arousing things he could, to cope. So, Gojo was sensitive. And that fact was hitting him like a bag of bricks as he buried himself to the hilt in your heat.

You clenched and fluttered below Gojo as you clawed at his hair and wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him in-bottomed out. You both began to pant as the throbbing heat continued at your join. You bucked your hips on a reflex and both of you moaned out wildly, Gojo gripping the pillow next to your head like his life depended on it. “God, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Just seeing you like this has me close, Satoru,” you muttered, nuzzling his ear, “Just go for it, whatever happens, happens.”

He nodded, and dragged his length out slowly and shoved it in, gasping at the sensation. But he soldiered on, chasing both of your highs as best he could, pistoning into you. You moaned your encouragements, leaving long drags of your nails across his back. Gojo was spurred on further by the sting and he kept on, grabbing your left leg and pinning it up, holding it by the knee. The new angle gave him access to that wonderful spot inside of you, and you cried out, digging your nails deep into his skin.

He let out a deep, guttural groan and kept hitting that spot, over and over like it was all he knew how to do, and sure enough you were running towards that cliff again, this time hand in hand with Gojo Satoru when suddenly you could feel his resolve faltering, and he gripped your hips fiercely, flipping the two of you without losing a beat. The mere action enough to make that run a dead sprint, but the way he helped you bounce on his length, now digging into his abs with those piercing nails, him still reaching all the best parts inside of you, it was divine. You kept pace now, letting the man beneath you almost bliss out as you took the reins. Him merely stroking your thighs as you rode him all the way to the finish line. You looked down at him properly, and again, eye contact with the beautiful man was enough to send you tumbling, along with him. You both cried out, tears pricking the edge of both of your eyes as you came, vigorously riding off your highs. You could feel Gojo filling the condom inside you, sad you couldn’t take the risk to have been completely connected.

When you both caught your breath, you slowly pulled yourself off him, collapsing next to Gojo on your bed. He reached down and took off the condom, tied it off and threw it away in the trash next to your bed.

“Wow,” you muttered.

“Wow,” Gojo agreed.

“The kids are gonna see these marks, aren’t they?” you muttered, looking the man next to you over.

“I’m not letting you heal them, so yes. Absolutely.” He rasped, cuddling you closer to him.

“Not it” You called, raising your hand. Gojo frowned, sticking out his tongue at you, “Now that I know how you can use that thing, you better put it away or be ready for round two Mister.”

Gojo felt a laugh rip from his chest, and he couldn’t help but grab you around the middle and pull you on top of him for another kiss.

---

“A cat attack, Gojo-sensei?” The first years questioned as the group mowed down their bentos for the day.

The man nodded resolutely, “Of course, what other kind of ferocious beasty could have done this?” Gojo chuckled.

Nanami was sat beside the white-haired man, peering over his shoulder at the note that you had left him in his lunch that day, and nodded, “Yeah, some pussy really got him good.” He agreed, a slight smirk on his face. The kids began to realize, noticing the dark hickies under Gojo’s collar. Gojo’s eyes widened behind his glasses, and he thwacked Nanami on the arm. Nanami whispered quieter, “A nursing pussy, has three little kitte-“ Gojo kicked Nanami off of the chair next to him with enough force to send him flying a good ways.

“And I’m not getting you healed this time!” Gojo yelled.

“You owe me a new pair of undies, Mr. Greatness. <3 -Nurse-sensei”

[kyu-piddy]

Sweet Strawberry Delight

An: Holy crap… this got way longer than I thought it would. This started as a very small drabble all the way back in December 2023, but then it spiraled into what it is now. Don’t ya just love reframing canon events as things revolving around the reader? I do :3

Ps: This piece has some slight angst, but a happy ending.

Gn Reader x Riddle

Trigger warnings: Controlling parents

4k words

Riddle clearly remembered the first time he saw you.

It was one of his very first outings with Trey and Chenya, when he was but a small child.

They had invited him to a croquet match in a park near Trey’s house, and he couldn’t be more excited, spending hours poring over a rule book he had found stashed away in a shelf.

But when they arrived at the park, all of his thoughts changed to you.

A being covered in mud, grass and leaves stuck to your clothes, disheveled hair pointing to every direction.

You gave him a bright smile, a gap from a missing tooth breaking the streak of white, something he couldn’t quite decipher glimmering in your eyes.

Riddle blinked. If his mother ever saw you, she would be sure to give you the reprimand of your life. He himself felt rather taken aback by your appearance.

You were… wrong. Every single part of you was like a cosmic horror, beyond anything that he could ever fathom.

You stretched your hand out to him, mud caking your nails and palm, seemingly a mockery of a polite greeting.

He looked down at your hand, then at your face, shy reluctance seeping into his face.

If he had been any older, he would have rejected you and your kindness.

But he wasn’t, so he too broke out into a smile, albeit a small one, and shook your hand back.

On that afternoon, Riddle learned how to play croquet.

You were a much better player than he, but his inability didn’t bother you. The mistakes he made didn’t fuel a fire of rage in you, fueling instead a calm stream of perseverance.

At the end of the match, when the sun began to give signs it would soon go to rest, you approached him with a gift.

It wasn’t quite a gift per say, but more of a small offering of friendship.

In your palm, a small white and pink wrapping rested, protecting a sickly sweet trap.

“I can’t eat that. It’s bad for you.” he remembered saying, a sad tilt to his voice.

“I think it’s only bad for you if you eat too much of it. Here, look.”

You took another wrapping out of your pocket, deftly unwrapping the pink and white and leaving only a red square that you promptly popped into your mouth.

“See? It didn’t do anything bad to me.”

You extended the candy to him once again.

He could have not taken it. Refuse the sweet temptation and keep his perfect streak of health.

Riddle took it from your hand, taking the candy into his mouth and chewing slowly.

The taste of strawberry filled his senses, drowning out his mothers reprimands from his mind. Never had something tasted so sweet as this secret act of rebellion.

“So, do you like it?”

“Yes. It's really sweet!”

Another wrapped delight graced your hand, quickly being shoved into his pocket.

“Keep this one for later. It’s our little secret.” you murmured conspiratorially, not even letting Trey or Chenya hear the both of you. The extra red square was for him, and only for him.

As he rushed home, Riddle kept thinking of you, strawberry in his mouth and on his mind.

Hopefully, he would see you again.

…

The day everything went wrong didn’t start out as such.

He had once again sneaked out during his time of self studying, a moment of stolen freedom that made his world so much sweeter.

The park where the four of you played was always filled with new possibilities, the little time he got there never seeming enough to satiate his curious mind.

It was a bright day, fluffy clouds littering the vast blue sky, passing your little group by like strangers waving goodbye.

“Let’s cloud gaze!”

You lied on the ground as you said so, letting your head hit the soft grass.

Riddle looked down at your face.

“Won’t we get dirty if we lay on the grass?”

“We’ll be fine. We just have to be careful. Come on! It’s really cool, Riddle.”

He sat down by your side, blades of grass tickling his body.

“Have you ever gone cloud gazing?”

He shook his head.

You let out a loud gasp, turning to the side to look him in the eyes.

“It’s really fun! You just have to look up at the clouds and figure out the shapes they make. Like that one for example! It looks like a rabbit.”

He squinted his eyes. Truthfully, it only looked like an amorphous blob.

“It looks cloud shaped to me.” he replied.

“That’s because you aren’t looking hard enough. You have to really look.”

On that afternoon, Riddle learned how to cloud gaze.

Finding shapes in the ever changing clouds wasn’t his forte, but your finds were always delightful.

As the sky became less blue and more orange, cloud gazing was abandoned in favor of a strawberry tart Trey had brought.

The four of you indulged on it giddily, messily eating every last crumb.

Frosting stuck to the corner of his lips, your soft hand gingerly cleaning it off.

But it all came crashing down as an angry figure stomped over the grass and flowers, disgust evident on their face as a bit of mud dirtied their shoes.

A cold voice echoed in the almost empty park, Riddle's heart dropping to the floor and splattering into tiny pieces.

“Riddle! I cannot believe this!”

Her angry glare terrified all four of you, each step she took getting her closer and closer to the small group of children.

“Mother, I’m so sorry! I’m really sorry!”

Riddle cried, warm tears streaming down his face and cleaning any remnant of the tart he had just indulged in.

Riddle’s mother grabbed his arm, dragging him towards her with unexpected strength.

“We’re going home now. And you hooligans, how dare you incite my son to participate in these dangerous behaviors?! I will have a stern talk with your parents, as they seem to have forgotten to raise their children as respectable members of society.”

She turned back around, iron grip on her crying son's arm, his tear stricken eyes widened in fear.

Riddle had turned back to his friends, their terrified faces mirroring his.

Your ever smiling face was now devoid of any warmth, fear pooling in your eyes, mouth slightly open, whatever words that would have been spoken stuck in your throat.

More tears welled up in his eyes, as his friends' figures got smaller and smaller.

A small pink and white wrapping fell from his pocket, being promptly crushed by his mothers foot.

…

For years, you had remained but a distant memory on the back of Riddle’s mind, strawberry flavored snippets of a time he could never truly forget, for as much as his rational mind told him he should.

His mother had identified Trey's parents and given them a piece of her mind, but she couldn’t identify yours.

At least you had been spared of that.

He thought he’d never see any of you again, but destiny had decided otherwise, as on his first year at NRC, he reencountered the people who had once made his days so sweet.

Trey was part of his dorm, a dependable upper classmate and his vice dorm leader.

Chenya studied at RSA, close enough for Riddle to see him at every inter school event.

And you…

At the tail end of his first year, as summer came knocking and the strawberry bushes in Heartslabyul sat heavy with fruit, he received a letter from his mother, bringing with it Riddle's most dreaded topic.

Marriage.

His mother had found someone she deemed appropriate for him. Someone who she believed to be a good match to his career prospects.

As summer vacation rolled around, a meeting was in order. His mother would observe it, and decide if she had truly found the correct person for Riddle.

Strangely, Riddle felt reticent. He knew his mother was the most correct, the one who always knew what was best for him. But part of him ached to make this decision on his own, a small rebellious voice tugging at the back of his brain.

He merely ignored it, letting his rational thoughts drown it.

On the day of the meeting, Riddle sat on a plush chair in his intended’s tea room, his mother sitting nearby.

A man entered the room, tall and imposing, followed by a smaller person.

The man sat in front of his mother, while the smaller person sat in front of him.

Perfume tickled his nostrils, a sweet intoxicating scent.

As his mother and the father of his intended spoke to each other, the person in front of him managed to whisper a secret.

“It’s been a long time, Riddle.”

Your voice had changed, becoming more mature and wiser, but the kindness that seeped through was the same, as warm as the day he had met you.

Even your eyes were the same, a playful twinkle that shone brighter when you looked at him still decorating your gaze.

At the end of the meeting, your parents shook hands, an agreement being reached, and you and him did the same.

In between your palms, a small square rested, surprising Riddle.

As you retracted your hand, he held the secret object tight in between his fingers.

When his mother was not looking, he peered at the mysterious square.

Pink and white stared back at him, unchanged by time.

…

That summer was perfumed by your presence.

Where once he had spent his days bent over his desk, book after book studied in great detail, he now spent them studying you instead.

Various outings were arranged for the two of you to get to know each other, strolls along gardens, afternoon teas, candlelit dinners, and many more.

As you both walked languidly through a park, warm wind caressing your hair and clothes, Riddle couldn’t help but inspect you.

You looked much too happy whenever you were with him, happiness that he had only ever seen in children.

You glanced at his face, smiling contently as his eyes met yours, Riddle quickly looking away to evade your gaze.

Suddenly, your feet carried you faster through the dirt path as you broke into a slow run.

“Look!”

Excitement laced your voice as you pointed to a croquet court up ahead.

“Let’s go play!”

Excitedly, you grabbed his hands, tugging him towards the court.

“I don’t believe croquet is an appropriate courtmanship activity.”

“Just this once won’t be so bad. Come on, Riddle!”

You kept tugging his arm with vigor, undeterred by decency or common sense.

Riddle wasn’t so easily swayed as he had been as a child. Naturally, he could say no to you.

In a matter of moments, he was holding a croquet mallet, standing on the field, observing your dexterity at the game.

Time had only sharpened your skills, while his hadn’t flourished quite as much.

Even so, as much as he did not want to admit it, it was fun, glimpses of his childhood happiness resurfacing as he once more competed against you in an elicit croquet match.

“I win!”

A victorious cheer erupted from your lips as you sat down on the grass, letting the mallet fall by your side.

“You played really well too, Riddle.”

“I did not. My skill is far from being on par with yours.”

Frowning, you motioned for him to approach you, pulling him down to the ground with you as soon as he was close enough.

Riddle felt his cheeks warm up, a furious red crawling up his body and tinting his face.

As his eyes met yours, the heat melted from his face, your saddened eyes and half smile a balm to his irritation.

“I’m sorry, Riddle.”

“For what?”

“For everything you went through. For everything you are going through.”

“I’m not going through anything. My life is adequate.”

Your smile dropped, and you turned your face to the sky, as if afraid to look him in the eye.

Riddle felt his heart squeeze. He had no motive to be sad. His life was indeed adequate.

His grades, his meals, his friends, his betrothed, his future were all perfectly correct, handpicked by his mother or influenced by his mothers teachings, a mother he knew to be the epitome of perfection.

The weight in his heart was unfounded, irrational. He only needed to keep following his mothers rule and he’d be happy.

“That cloud looks like a rabbit, don’t you think so?”

You pointed to a vagrant cloud above the both of you.

It was unfair. How could the moments he shared with you, unchained by expectations and presumed perfection, sweeten the bitterness in his heart?

Following your outstretched arm, he found the supposedly rabbit shaped cloud.

He still couldn’t discern any sort of shape evolving from the cloud, but part of him wanted to. He wanted to see the world through your eyes, feel that guiltless happiness that had stained your eyes and voice for as long as he had known you.

“I can’t quite make out such a shape from that one. Perhaps if I… look at another one I’ll be able to.”

Your eyes met, words unnecessary, a silent understanding being reached, your hand on the ground, palm facing up, an invite sent with gestures.

An invite he accepted, fingers interlocked shyly.

Riddle closed his eyes, his heart beating rapidly, any weight there temporarily lifted.

A smile bloomed on his face.

…

After all those years, Riddle had returned to his childhood habit, but instead of stolen moments playing with his friends, now he was encouraged to spend time with you.

Time with you was addicting. You were always happy to see him, smiling gleefully and eager to take him on a new adventure.

He felt guilty, his mother’s angry gaze burned into his very core, a warning to the reality that could transpire if she ever found out the things he had been participating in.

However, any fear that hid at the back of his mind was supplanted by your sheer presence.

One night, both your parents called for a meeting.

Four people sat in his mother’s study, expressions closely guarded.

Riddle sat in front of you, side by side with his mother. You sneaked him a wink, highly improper.

He gave you a small nod in return, almost imperceptible.

“I believe that our children have already spent enough time together for a decision to be reached, Mrs. Rosehearts.”

His mother sat upright on uncomfortable metal disguised as a chair, sharp eyes dissecting your father.

“I believe so too, Mr. ___.

Your face was indecipherable, as if the conversation was disappearing from your mind as soon as it entered.

The adults spent the next hour discussing the details of your future marriage.

After finishing college, you were to be wed and move to a house owned by your father. Riddle would study magical medicine. You would study magical engineering.

The words kept coming, and Riddle’s dread kept growing.

This was just how things were. This was the best path for his life.

As the details were settled, the adults shook their hands, and everyone got up to go have dinner.

You spent the dinner playing with your food, his mother side eyeing you, yet you didn’t seem to even register her flaming gaze.

After all the courses were served, you excused yourself. Five, then ten, then fifteen minutes passed, your visage still missing from the table, worrying Riddle.

Excusing himself, he searched for you.

Searching through the house yielded no results, the garden being the next logical step.

The quiet lull of the night stretched far, flowers and bushes dipped in darkness, his own feet shrouded in mystery.

A small noise captured his attention, leading him to a big rose bush hiding your form.

You sat perfectly still, just as you had during the dinner, hands tucked underneath your knees, wide eyes and closed mouth.

He sat by your side, not knowing what to do. It wasn’t part of his vocabulary, “not knowing what to do”, but this time he truly was lost.

“I always dreamed of my wedding as a little kid. I was a bit of a romantic, after all.”

Your voice came out as a whisper, trembling words uttered in fear.

“I dream of far away places, where I could be… free. I thought that as I grew older, I would have options. Real options. Yet, here I am.”

Silence settled between the two of you.

“We should probably go back.”

You got up after uttering those words, your eyes never meeting his.

As you walked back inside, Riddle sat on the ground for a little longer, watching your back grow smaller.

The pain in his heart, a constant prick he had learned to ignore, had grown and grown until he no longer had a heart, but instead thousands of small pieces.

For once in his life, he had seen your eyes, sparkless, hopeless.

If you, who was so sweet and full of life, had your flame burned out, how could he hope to ever be happy by following your ways?

It was time for him to face the truth. His mother was right. The only way to live was to follow the rules.

…

Going back to NRC was a return to form.

He was once again in control of himself, of his surroundings. He’d make sure the rules were followed to perfection.

The reason he was unhappy was because he was surrounded by troublemakers, dissidents of the very laws that made life adequate, people who couldn’t appreciate the perfect order of things just as the Queen of Hearts had defined.

Slowly but surely, he was getting closer to the ideal, to a dorm filled with exclusively rule followers like him.

And yet, happiness still evaded him, like a cloud passing by, something to be appreciated from afar and never to be held.

It was unfair. Why did those around him, troublemakers, rule breakers, appear so happy? How could they be so happy?

You had once been like them, consumed by your own folly, the end to such presumed happiness a bitter pill to swallow, but a necessary one.

Because that happiness wasn’t real happiness.

It couldn’t be.

For if your way was the true key to the joy Riddle so coveted, that meant his mother was wrong, that the path he had been forced to forge would never lead him to what deep down he desired the most.

Day in and day out he kept at his mission with fervor.

He would punish a tart thief.

He would punish those that disrupted an unbirthday party.

He would show to the rambunctious first year duo that they were no match for him.

No one was.

Something was thrown at him. An egg, broken into tiny pieces, flakes of the shell on the floor and on his face, the gooey center slipping down his face.

How dare they?! How dare the ungrateful brats not listen to him?! How dare Trey tell him that he’s wrong! He was always right!

Everything turned black. Inky tendrils obscured his vision, melding into his body, wet and warm like spilled blood.

Rage like he had never felt before engulfed him, screaming inside his mind, coloring his world in pain and grief.

He wanted to hurt those around him. Those that failed him.

From the corner of his eye, a figure emerged, brighter than the ever encompassing darkness.

Deep in his overblot, Riddle saw you.

Memories of his childhood. Memories of your summer together. Memories he wasn’t sure if they were real or imagined.

He had spent so much of his life following rules, believing they would be the key to his happiness. His mother was happy. Wasn’t she?

But you… you weren’t happy following the rules imposed on you. You were the happiest going at the beat of your own drum, yet everyone had stifled you.

Riddle too, had tried to stifle you countless times, pluck you from the happy bubble you had made for yourself, until eventually he had succeeded.

The arranged marriage had been the final straw for you, taking away your very way of being, and he was to blame.

Riddle cried. For himself. For you. For his friends. For the life he could have lived.

In the darkness, a hand reached out.

“Hey, Riddle, want to go cloud gazing?”

A child’s voice echoed through the world of blot, some of the ink receding like it had been burnt.

Opening his eyes, he saw you, back when you were kids.

“Are you sure you want to go cloud gazing with me? I cannot discern anything special in the clouds. I will only sadden you and destroy who you are! ___, YOU CAN’T LET ME DESTROY YOU!”

He screamed at you, tears and snot making it hard to breathe.

You merely smiled, turning into your present self.

One hand in your pocket, you took out a white and pink wrapping, extending your hand to him.

“It’s only bad for you if you eat too much of it. Will you share this one with me?”

Grabbing the square from your hand, Riddle slowly unpeeled the wrapping, the small red square in his hand smelling of strawberries.

“I… If you let me, I’d like to.”

With a soft smile, you hugged him.

“I’ll meet you out there, Riddle.”

The darkness, as if it had a mind of its own, receded, leaving only a bright white light.

…

“Riddle! How are you doing?”

“I’m… well. How are you,___?”

Riddle sat in front of you, a small smile adorning his features.

You smiled back, sparkles in your eyes, hands carefully holding a cup of steaming hot tea.

“I’m doing fine.”

Silence stretched between you both, the lull of conversation from other bakery goers filling the void.

Words were to be exchanged if either of you would let them free, but the fear of breaking such pure silence held your tongues back.

“I came here as fast as I could.” you started, a careful tone to your sentence.

“Why did you send that letter to my father? Why did you break off our engagement?”

You asked sincerely, your smile dropped and your brow slightly frowned.

Riddle stared into his cup, watching the liquid swirl impatiently.

“Sometimes the rules aren’t correct.”

He started, not daring to look you in the eye, lest that sparkle that lit his days be gone once more.

“The path we must take isn’t always the one that was laid down for us. Even if the rules deem it so, they too aren’t always right. I…” the next words out of his mouth made his cheeks mimic his hair, a game of imitation that did not please him “I care much too strongly for you to force you to spend the rest of your life with me. I’d wish for it to be by your own choice.”

Lifting his head up, he faced your pensive gaze, expression lacking any substantial emotion.

With the meal over, Riddle paid and led you outside.

Small snowflakes danced in the wind, falling on clothes and eyelashes and wherever else it could.

The dying light of the sun caressed both your faces, melting the snowflakes faster than you could catch them with your tongue.

You turned to him, smiling, brushing a stray hair from his face

“Thank you so much. You’re great, Riddle.”

Riddle held his breath as your soft lips met his.

Sweetness invaded his senses, from your taste to your scent, the lingering taste of strawberries intoxicating to his mind and body.

His widened eyes slowly closed to match yours, hands stiffly by his side.

Faster than he hoped, the kiss was over.

Both your faces were flushed, the cold of the seasons and the warmth of a first kissing giving such a distinct coloration.

You held his gloved hand in yours, eyes locked to his, fireworks in his heart and hopefully in yours too.

At that moment, no one else existed in the world. Nothing could hurt him, as long as he was by your side.

And in that cold late autumn night, as his heart beat loudly, louder than ever before, he said three little words.

“I love you.”

[andro-dino]

Tired and sick, may I get some Once upon a withlight headcanons to ease my weary soul?

aaa hope you feel better soon snuggles 🫶

this is one I actually have to put a little brain power into bc I actually haven’t thought super hard about this

- I think kremy and Gideon never verbally apologize to each other after a fight, both of them are way too prideful and awkward for that. Kremy I think would take it like a mom who cuts up fruit for you instead of apologizing. He doesn’t explicitly acknowledge that anything happened or is wrong but Gideon will be moping in the corner and kremy will be like “I made dinner, are you gonna come eat with me or what?” and instantly all is resolved. On Gideon’s part, I think it’s a combo of big sad puppy eyes and acts of service, just constantly going out of his way to do things for kremy to try to make up for it. I think gid does that a lot just anyways but he goes especially hard on it when he’s trying to apologize after a fight

- also coalecroux focused, these guys are so weird about physical affection. it’s either they are extremely awkward and strange about it or they are literally inside each others skin, no in between. Like I think with these two having been together for as long as they have, they have very naturally gotten super used to constantly hanging on to each other and having their arms wrapped around each other like second nature, neither of them even really realize they do it, but the SECOND anyone comments on it or causes them to think about it for even a second, they are instantly ten feet apart from each other and all awkward and sputtery about it. freaks, I hate them (affectionate)

- Frost is the kind of person who will appear to be completely doing his own thing and not paying attention at all when other people are talking but he is actually extremely engaged in the conversation, he just doesn’t feel the need to hold eye contact or stop doing what he’s doing (which is probably like reading a book or something similar which would appear to hold all his attention). Gricko is the most used to this and entirely unfazed by it but it takes most others a little while to understand it

- Gideon and Twig scheme about pranks to pull on frost together. Either that or just ganging up to make fun of him (affectionate) in general

- Twig tries to help show torbek how to clean and take care of his fur a little more. He’s not particularly good at it on his own but he’s trying and he appreciates it immensely

- frost. Kitty tendencies. he tries like really really hard not to show most of his cat qualities very often bc he does not want to draw attention to them but he has found himself making biscuits around people without realizing more than once

- Hootsie with each of the different krew members I think are all very fun dynamics. Frost is father #2 to her and will usually be the one taking care of her if gricko cannot as he is generally the most responsible and capable when it comes to taking care of her, though he will definitely sneak her more rat snacks than she’s supposed to have. Kremy is like the rich gay aunt who will absolutely spoil her rotten if given the opportunity. He never means to but he can never resist doing so. He will go full Karen mode to give her the world. I imagine hootsie in Gideon’s care like one of those movies where the plot revolves around a babysitter and the kid their watching going on a big wacky adventure and needing to get home before the parents do, and no matter zany the hijinks, they will always get back home and act like absolutely nothing happened when the parents do get home. He is one of hootsie’s favorite to play and cuddle with but he should probably not be solely responsible for her for extended periods of time. Torbek and hootsie are like bffs and also are great cuddle buddies but similarly he should never be left solely responsible for her it would not go well.

[artofkhaos404]

what are your villain!todoroki headcanons 👀

Thanks for the ask, man! I got a few...

× Sometime before Shoto decides he wants to go to UA, imagine Dabi leaving an anonymous note for him, asking to meet alone, and on the note are some details listed about Shoto's abusive childhood that no one could have possibly known unless they lived in the Todoroki household. That's a mystery Shoto can't resist solving, so he meets up with him. Dabi reveals his identity as Touya Todoroki and explains to Shoto why he's doing what he's doing- to reveal the truth of Endeavor's evil deeds to the world. Dabi offers Shoto an opportunity to help in this plot, or if nothing else, a way out of his abusive household; coming to live with his brother. Maybe Shoto has to take some time to think about it, but eventually, he makes the decision secretly run away and move in with Dabi to escape Endeavor- but nothing more. However, the more time he spends hanging around the League and hearing their own horror stories, the more time he spends bonding with his brother and experiencing new things with him he was never allowed to before, Todoroki begins to realize just how much damage has been done unto him by his parents. As time goes on, he begins to see their perspective and understand their plight intimately. He grows to hate commercialized heroism in general; because if someone as terrible as Endeavor can become a hero... what could the other greats be hiding behind their masks? And how much pain could be relieved from victims of fake heroes, such as himself and Dabi, if someone were to stop these "heroes?" Wouldn't that act be heroism; true and unadulterated? Shoto then makes the decision to join his brother in the mission that Stain began before them; to tear corrupted hero society to the ground.

× I don't think Shoto would abandon his morals completely as a villain. He would consider himself more akin to an underground hero that works with villains for a common goal. Most of he and Dabi's arguments would probably revolve around this 😅

× His villain costume would be just as simple and practical as his hero costume. I imagine the same design, but in white and black rather than the dark blue.

× Even when he's old enough to get a place of his own, Shoto decides to stay in Dabi's apartment. Growing up with so many siblings, living alone sounds more lonely than it's worth to him despite his introversion. Dabi and Shoto are both quiet types who enjoy their own spaces, but they also both value the comfort of a presence being in the other room.

× I could see Shoto taking in a stray cat, maybe one who is injured or blind or missing an ear, and bringing it back to Dabi's apartment. At first, Dabi said it was a waste of time and money and that he should throw the thing out. But after seeing how much comfort the little furball brought Shoto, he stopped complaining about it.

× Dabi would train Shoto to use his left side; insisting on helping his brother get over the fear of being like their father in order for Shoto to realize his full potential.

× Shoto would have trouble getting along with the more impulsive, violent League members such as Shigaraki- Dabi would often end up playing referee (all the while chuckling at the colorful yet painfully accurate insults Shoto would throw).

× Despite this, Shoto can be just as impulsive if you trigger him on the wrong day. Instead of becoming warmer through the series, like in canon, Shoto would become colder and more heartless as time went on. He would never hurt someone for the thrill, but if he feels you need to be brought to justice or if you step to him, he'll do what he feels like.

× And if you hurt a child and he sees it or hears about it? Might as well count yourself dead. Same goes for Dabi. They may be cruel people, but they don't stand for child abuse.

× It wasn't always this way. When they were first reunited, Shoto saw Dabi do unspeakable things- even to children. But gradually, through one another's influence, Shoto became a better villain and Dabi became a better person.

[meibywabie]

Xie Lian isn’t a hero.

I started with TGCF first when I was introduced to danmei, and I was floored by what I read. It wasn’t just boys kissing in ancient china, it was actually about human tragedy and the selfishness of the omnipotent.

The theme of TGCF doesn’t revolve around XL alone. It’s much bigger than that. This isn’t a ‘TGCF is better’ post, but rather, TGCF is different. And it’s different because Xie Lian isn’t a typical human hero.

XL is not a heroic character like WWX, and he isn’t a sarcastic/comedic relief hero like SQQ. And it isn’t because of their personalities. XL is just as selfless as WWX and just as unreasonably punished as both other MC’s. However, when bad things happen to WWX, you know it’s because of his personality. Because of his kindness, his confidence, his wit. It’s simply BECAUSE it’s WWX as the protagonist.

Same with SVSSS. That story couldn’t have happened without Shen Yuan in SQQ’s body. Like we never would have gotten that level of sarcasm, pity, and empathy. And the novel tells you that repeatedly. Everything that happens in the previous two novels does so because of who the main character is.

But when things happen in TGCF, XL isn’t even the center of the conflict. It’s almost always someone else’s fault, someone else’s business, or someone else’s issue he just happens to be present for. But somehow, it always comes back to him. It’s always his job to resolve things.

Unlike WWX, the conflict isn’t his fault. WWX actively pushes the narrative with his actions. He drives the conflict and later becomes it. Whether he’s at fault or not is the point of his story, but for XL, he’s really just incredibly unlucky. He’s tragic in the sense that he’s just being fucked over by everyone in his life. For what? For being…wonderful!?

I absolutely love that his one little phrase pissed off the evil emperor of heaven. Like his mere existence is a problem.

It’s an incredible piece of writing that the things that get him into trouble are his altruism. Altruism that is fitting for someone who thinks himself a GOD. But also, altruism that many of us mortals share.

Why CANT he save his people if he’s a god? Why CANT he answer everyone’s prayers? Why is he not good enough or strong enough to resolve this conflict if he’s literally a GOD.

XL is constantly facing issues and asking questions that humanity itself has asked.

Why isn’t god answering me, why isn’t god helping me, why do we have a god at all? TGCF has a commentary that doesn’t limit itself to just XL and the type of person he is in the way that MDZS relies on WWX and SVSSS relies on SQQ.

Those novels are how most novels typically function. You choose a specific type of human and see the world through their eyes.

But XL isn’t human. Not in the way he acts nor in the way he tells this story. He tells you everything he witnesses and it barely affects him anymore. He just has some wise thoughts about what everything means.

But TGCF isn’t asking: what would happen if a kind prince ascended to godhood?

Instead—

TGCF begs the question:

What if you told the story of humanity, not through the eyes of a human, but through the eyes of god.

Xie Lian is god.

XL is 800yrs old, has lived through countless tragedies, celebrations, friendships, betrayals, and he ascends. Again.

He’s been stuck with the burden of immortality and now he’s re entering the place that gave him that burden. He walks into heaven to see new gods, but the same old problems. And the whole vibe he has in this is less benevolent and wonderful and more like a fed up mom who’s tired of seeing the girls fighting.

He sits back and watches these issues devolve and shuffles his way into the conflict by accident. Because he’s the only one competent enough to do anything about it.

XL doesnt react like a human being, at the start of the current timeline, he’s a god.

He’s an 800yr old god. He’s seen everything, learned everything.

We see this prince who thinks himself a god then become one. And instead of learning what it means to be a god so he can help the common man— he learns what it means to be a common man so he can become a real god.

XL goes through HELL. He loses countless times, is left, betrayed, ruined, trampled, destroyed. He is constantly being thwarted by not just people but the very gods he worshipped and the god he himself became. But again— XL isn’t even that big of a personality for us to cling to that alone and see how these things happened to him??

He isn’t boasting about how great he is out of pride and ego, he isn’t rampaging or going mad with power, he isn’t a huge character. But his lack of those qualities is what triggers Jun Wu to ruin him. He wants to see him go crazy, wants to see him struggle. Wants to see his ego and pride. And he’s not the only one!!!

Mu Qing is also incredibly jealous, so are the other gods!!! And Qi Rong, his own family!!! His parents even get upset with him for not doing enough. Everyone saw this kid blessed with so much and started wishing for him to break. And they succeed. He goes insane, he starts killing, he starts wanting to die, he starts losing faith.

But MAN it is just so gorgeous to me that this character is almost…forced to be a main character? Forced to suffer, forced to make mistakes, forced to be a problem. He is so powerful and smart and incredible and then he is made to believe he is nothing. Here is this god who has been forced to feel HUMAN.

And once he finally feels that way, once he finally falls to the ground and loses everything, someone comes by and offers his hat.

And that’s all it takes for a man to truly become a god.

TGCF asks what if you told a story through the eyes of god? It shows you this guy sighing through drama and fixing peoples problems.

And then it goes back and tells you: What makes a man, god?

And we read all of XL’s history. His victories and failures. And it perfectly describes how he’s ascended again. Not out of heroics this time. But out of his pure humanity.

God is a kind, gentle, but confident man who wanders around helping who he can and opening his doors to those who wish to come in. He resolves the conflicts he’s there for, and takes note of those he wasn’t there for. He trudges along holding no grudges and sighing when people make mistakes. He loves selflessly and holds no judgment. He feels strange letting people take care of him but he will take care of you. When he can, and when he has the chance, he will take care of you.

XL is almost born with every book definition of what a god is: kind, selfless, strong, and true. But his story forces him to learn how to be human instead. To fail, die, love, kill and suffer. And when that god was beaten and broken, he was saved by one thing. A human.

That’s how you become a god. And that’s what it means to be one. To be human. To be a good person.

XL couldn’t have been a WWX. He couldn’t have been a staple protagonist with a heart of gold, wit and passion. He couldn’t have had a story with everyone’s conflict directly tied to him and because of him. That isn’t what TGCF is for.

It isn’t about XL himself. It’s about god. It explores the selfishness that comes with immortality, and the selflessness that comes with mortality.

There are other aspects that make it a nice protag story. He falls in love, he’s kinda air headed and sassy. He did have the character and maturity to choose to become a wonderful godlike person but that’s a post for another day. But honestly, if this were a regular novel, it probably would’ve been about Hua Cheng. He lives for love and passion and devotion. He kills and saves and sacrifices, he denies godhood and wins the girl in the end. Now THATS a hero.

But XL isn’t a hero. He’s a god.

MXTX wrote a story that wasn’t about a sheepish prince who lost it all, but instead wrote a story about gods and humans. She wrote what reads like a Greek epic to me. With such hard comments on morality and cruelty. She really hit me with everything I love about literature. And yes I do love MDZS and SVSS but TGCF is different.

Like guoshi said: the gods are human, after all. But XL above them all, is most definitely a god.

[harri-etvane]

Title: Soloveiko has landed.

Pairing: Maks/Vova

Word Count: 1600

Chapter: 2

Something pushes him forward without him thinking about it - a driving need, one hand pressed against the flat of the door, his heart pounding somewhere outside his chest.

Maksym knows exactly what he will find, who he will find - but the nerves still linger, questions drifting around his head. What if it’s all different somehow?  What if those two weeks of absence have stretched on, endless - magnifying into something different until he is no longer in lockstep with Vova, instead just ever so slightly behind? He couldn’t bear it; to not know, to be outside of it all, to be locked away from him. He takes a breath in and pushes the door open, stepping over the threshold and letting the heavy wooden door thunk shut softly behind him. It’s a familiar room, one he’s spent hours in over the last two years - teaching self-defence as the dark hours of the night slip by unremarked upon.

He’s spent more time than he cares to think about offering out a hand to pull Volodymyr to his feet, his skin slick with sweat, waiting for those dark eyes on him, a nod before they go again; all the anger that drains away with each blow until he’s too tired to fight much more. He thinks about those moments often; after all the anger, all the rage that drives Volodymyr has gone, leaving just his softness as he leans against Maksym’s shoulder, too tired to move, his voice a low, scratched hum.

Maksym knows, in all that silence, is everything that Volodymyr would never let anyone else see. His anger, righteous and raw - but all his hurt too, reflected back at him in bleeding knuckles, burning muscles, purple-black bruises that take a little too long to fade. He'd never let anyone else see the quiet abyss that engulfs him when he's too drained to do anything but sit in silence, too weary to talk. Maksym takes these particular moments and stores them away, knowing that to be trusted so much is the best treasure he could ever be gifted, especially from a man who gives so much of himself to others. This tiny shard that is his, and his alone, even if comes bracketed by pain, it is not to be shared by anyone else.

Toeing off his boots by the door, his every movement is utterly noiseless, a stealthiness honed to its finest point through years of training. Sometimes, Vova asks with a laugh where he learned all this, and he’s never quite said - the moment never quite right. He takes a breath in, and all the nerves, the worry from before; it flickers, sparks again. He steps forward, grasping and then finding a specific kind of ease in this space, something that has been missing for the last fortnight. He knows this place, this building, every nook and cranny, every corner. He knows where an assassin might choose to hide, he knows how they would try to gain entrance. He knows where he needs to take Vova if it ever comes to that, a path that his mind only ventures down when night crawls in and his heart feels too large in his ribcage.

Maksym knows the man inside this room, the one around whom they all revolve, but he especially, on whom everything depends - the freedom of the free world, the continuation of their beloved Ukraine. It’s a weight he carries with grace, that leaves Maksym speechless often, even awestruck occasionally - a steady, quiet balancing act, a burden that he knows would break anyone else. 

His eyes find Volodymyr at the opposite side of the gym, locked in one sided combat with a punching bag as it swings from the ceiling, the chain clanking in a morose fashion as the noise echoes. The lights are dim - hardly there, softer somehow than the harsh, grim fluorescents of the situation room or the wide windows of his office where the light streams in without pause, drawing shadows onto his face. Maks watches in silence for a while; struck  by just how singular Volodymyr’s focus is, the set of his jaw is something that looks like anger, that rage that comes to the surface, swallowed down during the day. He is utterly unaware of his surroundings, focused instead on his driving anger, his relentless drive forward, unthinking of anything else; his whole world narrowed to the impact of bare knuckles against the target; again and again.

Maksym watches and he needs to know, almost desperately now - he needs to know that Volodymyr knows what to do if he is not there - what to do with all that anger, all that singular focus. The thought shudders inside his brain, filling him with a sudden, specific dread, cold and awful. He needs to know that Volodymyr knows what to do if there would ever be someone there to harm him, someone who would not think twice about causing him pain, about ripping his light from the world and leaving them all in darkness.

He moves until he is at Volodymyr’s back, then at his shoulder, still unknown, unrecognised in the dark. He longs for the other man to turn around, for that spell to break and a spark of recognition to bloom, just for a second - but it doesn’t. Maksym reaches forward, hooking an arm around Volodymyr's chest, a hand pressed over his mouth.

The world falls away, the concrete walls around them dissolving, the dim soft lighting fading out into something unspecific, intransient. None of it matters. Everything has narrowed to a few points, the thrum of a pulse, the press of a hand. It feels like an age - an epoch passes with Volodymyr pressed against him; unmoving, utterly frozen. He is close enough that Maksym hears, feels even the hitch of his breath, the shift that occurs in his stance, everything in him ready and willing to fight. That change alone eases a specific ache within Maksym’s chest. He does not let up, one hand still over Volodymyr’s mouth, the grip on him fierce; just enough for fight-or-flight.

And it’s Vova. Of course, of course it’s fight.

It always has been; from the very beginning.

Always will be; until the end.

They’ve learned this together, a macabre dance, and it loosens the tension inside of  Maksym’s chest as Vova’s elbow connects just where it’s meant to, against his ribs; the power behind it is enough to take his breath away for a second, knowing it will leave a red mark beneath his shirt that will slowly blossom into a bruise. Volodymyr finds the same point again, lands another blow; twisting to get himself free of Maks’ grip, using every trick he knows.

“Coward.”

Vova’s voice is a snarl, something guttural, bitter in it and even though Maks knows it isn’t directed at him; it’s far too dark for Vova to see his face, it lodges inside his heart like a barb, twisting until it bleeds. The insult is directed instead at his unknown attacker who had come at him in the dark, from behind. As Vova finally gets free, Maksym barely avoids another punch, the fierce drive of it no less startling for all his knowledge of his President and how he fights. He concentrates, parries the blows, still not easy despite knowing instinctively where the next one will come from. He was the one to tell Volodymyr what would work best, where he needed to aim, to go for - where would give him the best chance of victory, and if not victory at least then escape; time, a grasped moment or two that might give him the chance to find a weapon, to get the upper hand.

Not this time.

They fight in near silence, away from the light, the only sound is their harsh, uneven breathing, just out of sync with one another.He knows which side Vova favours, and Maksym sidesteps him swiftly, pivoting behind. He hooks one leg around Vova’s knee and moves sharply for the side he knows is his weakest. 

It sends Vova slamming into the mat with enough force to rip the breath from his lungs and there is barely a second’s pause before Maks grips him by the shoulders, pressing him into the mat, his grip hard enough to leave a mark. Vova's hands shoot up instantly, fingers digging hard into his biceps, his face taken over with a snarl of rage - the grace of it all gone now, moving to push back already - refusing to surrender. With his knees either side of Volodymyr’s thighs, his whole weight bearing down on the smaller man, Maksym is suddenly brought up short, in a way he hadn’t expected or ever anticipated. He is suddenly very aware of the fact that Volodymyr really is there, beneath him, his muscle, the broadness of his chest and the strength of his arms.

Something in Maksym’s heart quivers, glad that his face is still in shadow.

“Well done. You remembered what I taught you-” his voice is a low, rough rumble and the pressure in his grip eases - a thousand emotions flooding him, not least of all; there is pride, because of course, of course he remembered, of course he fought, of course, of course.

You will see our faces, not our backs.

“Next time, be quicker, better, sharper. Ukraine needs you.”

I need you.

In the quiet light, those gentle brown eyes look up at him. Still soft and questioning - trusting despite everything from the last few minutes, the last two years, and it feels like coming home.

“....Maks?”

[insomniac4000]

43 - ATV

How’d you remember- ArthurTV

Arthur leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee as he scrolled through old photos from school. It was always a nostalgic trip back to the days when life felt simpler, his world revolving around football, schoolwork, and friends. As he scrolled, he spotted a familiar face: Sophie. Her smile leaped off the screen, sparking memories of shared laughs and whispered jokes during class. They had lost touch after school, as she stayed in Jersey, where they’d both grown up. But as fate would have it, she’d recently reached out on Instagram, mentioning that she’d just moved to London.

They’d arranged to meet that weekend. Now, sitting in a cozy café in the heart of Soho, Arthur watched Sophie walk in, her familiar smile brightening the room. Time had only added to her charm, and he felt a pang of nerves, unsure why he was so excited to see her again.

“Arthur!” she exclaimed, giving him a quick hug. “I can’t believe it’s been this long.”

“Tell me about it!” he replied, trying to act casual. “Feels like just yesterday we were stuck in detention for that prank on Mr. Reynolds.”

Sophie laughed. “You were the mastermind, as I recall.”

They spent hours reminiscing, laughing over shared memories and stories they’d nearly forgotten. It felt easy, natural. They sat and talked for so long the time moved from afternoon coffee to dinner time and they agreed to find something to eat. Walking through the crowded London streets, Arthur felt a pull he hadn’t expected. Sophie wasn’t just a memory from his past; she was here, real, and captivating.

They grabbed a spot at a tiny Italian place Arthur knew, tucked away from the bustle. As they dug into plates of pasta, Sophie paused, a curious expression on her face.

“So, do you remember that time we went to that terrible school dance?"

Arthur laughed. “The big green one with the big sequins? I remember it well. You thought you were a movie star.”

Sophie’s eyes widened in surprise, then softened. “How’d you remember?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Arthur shrugged, feeling his cheeks warm. “I don’t know. Guess some things stick with you. I remember a lot about you."

"Does that mean you think about me a lot then?" She smiled, a quiet, knowing smile that sent his heart racing. They talked about her move, her job at a small publishing house, her hopes of exploring the city now that she was finally free from the quiet comfort of Jersey. Arthur found himself genuinely interested in every word she said, feeling more and more like he was seeing her in a way he hadn’t back in school.

Over the next few weeks, they started spending more time together. Late-night texts turned into impromptu dinner plans, random weekend strolls, and long conversations that spilled into the early hours. It was becoming more than just a rekindled friendship.

One evening, they were on the South Bank, the lights of the London Eye reflecting off the Thames. They’d been talking about anything and everything, the conversation naturally flowing as it always did. Sophie nudged him, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Remember that time I dared you to sing during assembly?”

Arthur groaned, laughing. “Please don’t remind me. I was terrible.”

“You weren’t that bad!” she teased. “But you were so embarrassed after. I felt so guilty.”

Arthur grinned, nudging her back. “But you liked the attention, didn’t you?”

She rolled her eyes, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks. “Maybe a little.”

As they stood there, wrapped in the sounds and lights of the city, Arthur felt a surge of bravery. He reached for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. She looked at him, surprised but not pulling away. And in that moment, the city buzzing around them, Arthur knew this wasn’t just a memory from his past coming back to life it was the start of something new.