#i have so many thoughts about shadow thank u for this

[thecuriousbeauty]

during the early shows of the "live on tour" era, when him were still performing in theaters, harry couldn’t take his eyes off a fan while he was on stage. so he takes her to the backstage after the show (or to his hotel room).

That Special Girl- Harry Styles x reader (Fluff)

A/N:-Put a little spin to this, I hope you all like it! Thank you for the request anon, and for patiently waiting! Please like and reblog to support me, xx.

Word count: 1.7K

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You don’t usually take this route on your morning runs, but today, you were craving those soft, buttery, warm croissants from the bakery down the street for breakfast. You definitely deserved it after your run. And today was going to be a very special day in your life, you needed to start the day right. So you didn’t mind the mild crowd you had to run through to make it to the bakery.

All you could think about was going to your first Harry Styles’ concert that evening! He was finally coming to your city and you weren’t going to let go of the opportunity to see one of your favorite singers perform live. Sadly, your best friend couldn’t go with you, so you were going alone but you were sure you’d make friends once you got there. That was also something you were excited about. Being around so many people who share your same interests. 

Just as you were about to enter the bakery, you saw someone familiar on their morning run. Your eyes squinted to make sure what they were seeing was really true. 

Wow, even before you got to the concert.

It was Harry Styles!

He was wearing a grey sweatshirt and blue shorts, shades protecting his eyes. You had to try so hard not to freak out, because the last thing you wanted was to be like some of those crazy fans. You admired Harry, yes, but you believed everyone, celebrity or not, should have the privacy of at least not getting disturbed while on their morning run. 

He was running towards where you came from, where you knew there was a crowd, so even though you were nervous and not quite sure if the words would form proper sentences once you opened your mouth, you decided to warn him.

“U-Uh, Harry?”, you spoke as he was just about to whizz past you, and he stopped. You couldn’t read his expression very well, but you continued. “You don’t wanna run that way, it’s pretty crowded.”

While you were talking, he tapped on his phone, probably to stop the music from his ear pods. “Oh. Oh, okay.”, he said, a little surprised. He probably thought you stopped him for a photo or something. He stared at you for a few seconds, while you were wondering if you had made any mistakes in the one sentence you spoke .

“I-I’ll go back the same way, then. Thanks, love.”, he smiled, dimples popping and although you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew they were crinkling. 

“Yeah, of course.”, you smiled back. “Good luck for the show tonight!”, it slipped out before you could think if it was okay to say.

“Thank you! Are you coming?”, he asks, still smiling.

“I am, actually.”

“That’s amazing. I’ll see you tonight, then, love. Gotta go now, thanks again. Bye bye.”

“Bye bye”, you find yourself repeating, and Harry chuckles before running away. You’re still in a daze as you turn to the bakery, almost hitting your head on the transparent glass door, not realizing that you have to open it. You laugh at yourself, and open the door, the smell of those delicious croissants making you beam. Today was going to be a great day.

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“I’ll take so many videos for you.”, you tell your best friend through a video call as you do your hair, getting ready for the show. 

“You better! You look so hot, y/n, I won’t be surprised if Harry himself falls for you.”, she says, winking at you through the screen and you laugh. You had picked out a black top, with a translucent sparkly cover on top, pairing it with a silver skirt. You did your makeup minimally, except for your eyes, you put on some shimmery eye shadow. Once you were ready, you said bye to your best friend and got going.

You reach the venue, chatting up with a few girls immediately, sharing bracelets and just sharing where you’re all from. You were led to your places when the show was about to start, and you had fun while the opening act was going on. You weren’t dancing yet though, you were saving your energy for when Harry would take the stage.

And finally, there he was. The man you saw in the morning, except now he was radiating more confidence and charm. He was up there probably doing his favorite thing in the world. He looked incredibly attractive in his outfit for the night, silky light blue pants paired with a pink and blue jacket. The color combinations complimented his features wonderfully, not to mention the perfectly placed tattoos over his chest and abdomen.

You sang along with the rest of the crowd as Harry started Music for a Sushi Restaurant. Harry was running around all over the stage, and his eyes were drifting around, looking everywhere while he continued to sing. It seemed like he was searching for something, or someone. 

When he gets to your side of the stage, for a minute, you feel like his eyes meet yours, and you’re not able to make sure because of all the lighting and there are a lot of people around you. But you can confirm he was indeed looking at you, because he grins as he brings his hand up and gives you a wave. 

You gasp and wave back. He remembers you from the morning!

For the rest of the show, you noticed that Harry was coming to your side of the stage quite often, and even looking at you as you sang the lyrics back to him. He would even lean over slightly, almost as if he was directly singing to you. You enjoyed all the songs and Harry’s energy was infectious. He kept bouncing around the stage, cracking jokes, reading out signs, making people happy and being the man he is. During the last song, which was Kiwi, he did his little dance and you did the same with your new friend next to you, and he stopped to watch you both, amused.

“Oh my god, he liked our dance!”, she squeals next to you.

You definitely had a lot to tell your best friend.

You’re having mixed feelings by the end of the show. Happy because you had THE BEST night ever, and sad because it’s over. You were gonna have to say goodbye to your new friends, and to Harry. 

Little did you know, Harry had different plans.

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Harry couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even as he was running through the crowd to go backstage, escorted by the security, he was looking over to where you stood, hoping to catch another glimpse of you.

But he couldn’t find you. He was too taken back by your beauty and kindness that he even forgot to ask your name in the morning. But he wasn’t gonna give up. He needed a chance to see you again.

So he asked his security to find you, telling them where you had been for the show. 

“Well this is a first, special girl eh, mate?”, Mitch teases him backstage, chugging down some cold water. 

“I’m just curious to know more about her.”, Harry says, not denying what Mitch had said. Clearly everyone in his band had noticed that he was watching a particular someone in the crowd. He thought he hadn’t made it so obvious.

Harry walked around, adrenaline still pumping through his veins, and Sarah passed him some water too. “Calm down, H, they’ll find her. Even if they can’t, if you really want to see her, we’ll figure something out.”

“How?”, he asked.

Sarah winked. “Leave that to me. Your fans are capable of a lot of things, you know.”

Harry didn’t question that. 

To his absolute delight, security had indeed found you, and Harry rushed into a separate room to meet you, not wanting to scare you with the whole band. He thought you would probably be nervous about all of this too.

There you stood, clutching your bag in one hand, your arm covered with bracelets, and his eyes shifted to your face, seeing you up close for the second time today. 

God, you were gorgeous.

Strikingly beautiful eyes that he was finding a hard time looking away from the whole evening. Perfect, soft features and your smile had him smiling ear to ear. 

“Am I in trouble?”, you asked nervously.

“Oh no, sorry love, I just didn’t get your name. I wanted to thank you again for this morning.”, he said. 

“Oh! It’s all good, I hate being interrupted during my morning run too. I’m y/n!”, you smile, and Harry extends his hand, shaking yours. “Hello, y/n, I’m Harry.”

You giggle, finding it funny that he was introducing himself and he can’t help but laugh. “Nice to meet you, Harry. The show was amazing, like crazy.”

“Yeah? I’m glad you enjoyed it, love.”, Harry says happily. “I didn’t spook you out sending the security behind you did I?”

“Kinda. I really thought I was in trouble for taking a shot the girl next to me offered or something..”

Harry laughs, and you smile sheepishly. “You all did shots without me?”, he asked, a fake hurt tone to his voice.

“Oh no, did you wanna do one?”

Harry shakes his head, dimples popping. “Just kidding, y/n. I just wanted to get to know you a little bit. You had my attention the whole night.”

You blush, not knowing what to reply, really just saying, “Oh..um..”

“Do you want to go hang out for a while? If it’s okay, of course. It’s completely fine if it’s not, it is late and you must have places to be-”, Harry starts rambling nervously.

“I’d love to!”, you piped up, and his grin widened. “Yeah?”

It’s true that no one believes in love at first sight, until they meet that one special person who comes along and steals their heart.

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Taglist: Taglist: -@livypops12352568 @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan, @kiwitsayedsugar, @angeldavis777,@madstyles3204, @youngpastafanmug, @fruity-harry, @wannaliveinparadise @hermionelove

Let me know if you want me to add you to my taglist or if there are any changes, love you all so much.

[sourfrootz]

I have some HC's that you might like.

Shadow is naturally soft and warm, like a cat, and was made to be like that So Maria would like him more. Nowadays, Sonic uses this as an excuse to cuddle with him more during the winter.

Shadow has a flower garden. This garden is full of Maria's favorite flowers, which are from a book. He is very, very protective of these flowers.

Shadow's eyes are reflective, and have led to some hilarious situations when he's raiding the fridge, or making himself during the night. In a pitch-black room.

Shadow has a room full of plushies, including a life-sized Werehog plush. Don't ask where or how he got it, you won't get an answer.

THANK U I LIKE THESE VERY MUCH ....!!!!!!

i luv talkint about character hcs esp shadows he is so so so cool i luvvv him so much :'3

i also have a similar hc that shadow can adapt his body temperature to the weather !!!! so hes either a portable heater during cold days or a cooler during hot days !!!!!!! maria and sonic n rouge won bc shadow = perfect cuddle buddy (he lieks it.... hes touch starved LFMAOOF)

AND AWE ☹️ yesyeys i feel like thwy also had their own garden up in the ark that he would take care with maria and he kept that habit even after so long ☹️☹️ im so sad ☹️☹️

YES imagine someone walking in on him in the middle of the night getting himself some midnight snackies and just jumpscaring them accidentally (rouge is a common victim)

he has a stuffed animal collection thats so cute.... he cuddles the werehog plush everynight (canon) (source: dude trust me)

[hermitw]

I swear that weird thing Gojo was doing w his hands was just stimming bc he was nervous but Fushiguro was judging him so hard for it. Even 10 years later

And that the blindfold is a pressure stim

Yuuji eating too much ice cream until he throws up might be stimming, or the struggle to switch between activities, or that he doesn't rly get the "hey maybe it's time to stop eating signal", but I'll guess it's a combination of all 3.

Autism in JJK Part 1 (Isolation and Movies)

Notes before we start.

1) Read the light novels. They are the equivalent of Bleach's CFYOW for JJK. There is a fan translation (Book 1 & Book 2), but I will be citing the official translation from my own copies.

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility. 

3) Read the light novels.

(Click images for captions/citations.)

Preface

Dungeon Meshi is heralded as The ultimate story of incompatible autisms. Everyone recognizes Laois and most of his party as autistic. Each of these characters are able to use their specific types of autism to solve problems throughout the series.

Laois’s autistic traits in particular have drawbacks when it comes to others’ perception of him. To directly quote one of the best Dungeon Meshi text posts on this site:

“Dungeon Meshi is about a quirked up white boy on a quest to save his sister and perhaps indulge his special interest along the way. He's a man of pure heart who has done nothing but help anyone he's met. Then part way through the story you start seeing other pov characters and it turns out every single person who has met him outside his party has read his awkward social skills and love for grilling as a sign of something deeply evil and has vowed to kill him on sight.”

Using Laois as a reference, I want to argue that Jujutsu Kaisen is the penultimate story of incompatible autisms.

Addendum/Disclaimer

I’m heavily drawing from experiences with my particular brand of autism for this analysis, so I’m bound to not properly consider everything. My words should not be taken as gospel since autism is a wide spectrum that manifests differently for each individual. Certain autistic traits will show up for one person and be completely absent in another. (And I personally think JJK does a great job of showcasing this variation.)

There is also significant overlap between Autism and ADHD which I’m not qualified to make connections with. (Basically if you have ADHD feel free to explain how you see yourself in these characters too.) There’s probably other readings that have flown over my head, but please understand I’m not trying to be malicious.

The main traits I’ll be referencing are:

Social Unawareness

Bluntness (and it being perceived as rudeness)

Taking Things Literally

Double Empathy Problem (the non-autistic and the autistic have a hard time understanding each other’s way of thinking and therefore struggle to communicate with each other)

Emotional Blindness/Alexithymia (difficulties with understanding and articulating one's emotions)

Hyperfixations

Special Interests

(Stimming is left out because of Tumblr's 30 image limit. Someone else can make that post for me.)

Mahito’s Autism

Strange title section right? Allow me to defend it. Mahtio’s Domain Expansion (DE) Self-Embodiment of Perfection is localized from 自閉円頓裹 (Jihei Endonka). The first two kanji 自閉 (Jihei) create the Japanese word for Autistic. Where 自 (Ji) is self and 閉 (Hei) is close/shut. The Japanese word for Autism is 自閉症 (Jiheisho) where 症 (sho) means disease. A very literal translation of Jiheisho is “self-shut disease”.

Equating autism to an illness that causes one to shut themselves inwards is flawed in its framework, but not wrong in describing the unique isolation autistic people face. If the kanji used didn’t clue you in, Japanese society is much more hostile to the autistic than English speaking countries. This is in part due to many autistic traits being seen as socially unacceptable for deviating too much from the norm.

There’s been a whole study on this if you want to know more. (This study allowed for self-diagnosed people to participate and included non-binary gender options, so I’m comfortable using it.) Quoted directly from the source: 

“Many autistic individuals engage in social camouflage and attempt to use social interaction to obtain job opportunities and other benefits. The aforementioned ‘need’ of autistic individuals to engage in social camouflage forces them to continuously pretend that they are non-autistic. This is associated with significant manifestations of mental health deterioration, such as depression, generalised anxiety, social anxiety, suicide attempts, and burnout because of exhaustion and fatigue.”

“Markus and Kitayama refer to Japanese and other East Asian cultures as ‘cultures of interdependence’. In these cultures, the primary challenge faced by individuals is to conform without standing out and pay more attention to others than oneself. Thus, the ‘uniqueness’ of autistic people can be perceived negatively, and it can threaten relationships and interpersonal harmony within the community.”

Now what does discrimination against autistic people have to do with Mahito? Well, everything. Mahito manifested as the hatred between humans, making them unique within the Natural Disaster Curses group. This causes friction in their relationships with the other curses, mainly Jogo.

When Dagon dies, Jogo mourns. When Hanami dies, Jogo and Dagon mourn. When Mahito learns about this? They react like this.

Totally not appropriate for the situation. You could chalk it up to them being a curse, but the other curses have already shown they’re capable of caring deeply for each other. 

This isn’t the only instance of it either. In the light novels, Mahito really gets into movies to better understand humans which results in this.

Jogo simply does not know what to do with Mahito becoming a filmbro. 

Jokes aside, Mahito is using movies and other forms of media to better understand people not like themself. And despite their efforts to better grasp emotions, this causes Mahito to become even more alienated from his peers. He’s in his own little bubble and his way of thinking is boon when fighting but a bane for his relationships. There’s something very autistic about that. 

Shared Special Interests

On the flipside, Mahito’s movie and book fascination causes them to create a bond with a blind homeless old man that lives under a bridge. But it’s only because the two of them have this interest in common.

As stated in CFYOW, JJK Summer of Ashes, Autumn of Dust Chapter 3: Allegory in Darkness, Mahito has canonically read Kafka. 

And that line at the end. “It makes talking to you easy.” This is the same phrase Mahito uses when grooming Junpei. Though Mahito’s relationship with Junpei is one of manipulation, it started as something rather innocent—they both went to the theater, saw the same movie, and were annoyed by the people disrupting their viewing experience.

That small connection, their shared interest in movies caused them to bond quickly and Mahito used it for manipulation. (This is not unlike how minors in fandom spaces can be groomed by the adults around them.)

Mahito learned how to be this way in part by studying media and applying it to their actions. They can’t interact with most humans 1-on-1, so their main source of understanding them is media, which gives them this warped sense of reality. Think Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. Mahito doesn’t know better because this is all they know.

It’s no wonder they conclude that humans at the core are creatures that eat, sleep, and rape (Ch 49 Pg 18 Sorry I ran out of image space). Think of how many “the joke is sexual assault” type characters there are in Japanese media alone. (Let’s not ignore how bad it gets in American 80s comedies too.)

Mahito is essentially a blank slate with no frame of reference for morals, critical analysis, or media literacy in general. It’s not very surprising they take everything at face value and then use it for evil.

And that’s why I wanted to discuss them first. Mahito is a reflection of humans and their reaction to media has echoes in how other characters, who are probably autistic, navigate their relationships with themselves and other humans. 

Itadori Yuji’s Autism

When I say Yuji is pure and the goodest boy in the world, I’m referring to the unbridled autistic joy in which he interacts with the world. He’s not much different than Laois from Dungeon Meshi. The way Yuji introduces himself to others is unhinged. He frequently does and says things that are not socially appropriate in the slightest. Whatever comes to mind first he acts on, no filter.

But being unhinged isn’t necessarily autistic. What gives this the ‘tism is the socially inept internal logic that goes into Yuji’s decision making. Dudebros may refer to it as locking in, but it is better known as hyperfocusing. You give Yuji a task and he Will complete it, anything in his way be damned.

Ijichi gave Yuji a task. Figure out if this person is an enemy and make sure nobody gets hurt. Interrupting a convo and pantsing a guy to complete this task is Yuji autistically logicing his way around setbacks. What’s a non-violent way to get someone to leave? Stealing their pants, probably. Things like social rules don’t matter if lives are at risk. 

Don’t believe that’s socially-blind autistic logic? Let me give you this guy from 4Chan and myself as an example. As a child I was told I should never lie no matter what. At 8 years old, I did something that upset my teacher. I didn’t know I had upset my teacher until I was asked to write an apology letter by my parents. So in my little pea brain, I had no reason to apologize because that would be lying. I then wrote something along the lines of, “I’m only writing this apology because my parents are making me.” (I got yelled at for this which confused me even more. What do you mean you want me to lie, mother???)

You can see this kind of logic with the finger eating especially. Yuji took Megumi’s words very literally and ate a mummified human finger because that’s what was needed to save lives. This isn’t a one off thing either, it keeps happening over and over—Yuji taking the most literal interpretation of the words spoken to him and acting on them in the most autistic way possible.

I love the Nanamin alert especially because only Idatori Yuji would think to do that. It also a neat showcase of the double-edged sword that can come from autism. Yes, Yuji effectively and quickly relays important information to his allies, but to their enemies as well. He also does it in a way that gets him bopped on the head by Megumi. Kind of like how going along with Gojo’s plans has him bullied by his classmates.

This happens a lot too—Yuji doing what others tell him to do, filling in the blanks when they fail to elaborate on the how to, and it backfiring.

There is nothing more autistic than doing exactly as you are told and getting punished for it. 

Nanami tells Yuji not to call him Nanami-sensei. But he doesn’t tell Yuji what exactly to call him instead, so he guesses. And since Yuji is socially unaware to a degree, he comes up with Nanamin instead of the Nanami-san that would’ve been more polite.

Megumi and Panda tell Yuji to lie. But lying isn’t in his nature so he really sucks at it. Pretending he doesn’t know who Gojo is because 1) he was told to lie and 2) Gojo is a part of the group Yuji is was explicitly told not show any familiarity with, is peak autism logic.

It’s all a part of Yuji’s charm though. Despite his autistic traits getting him into plenty of trouble, they also are a big reason as to why everyone loves him. 

Yuji’s Autistic Rizz

Yuji seems to mirror other people both to better understand them and because he’s relying on them to show him how he’s supposed to act. (More on that here.) Most of the time this is played for comedic effect, but sometimes it results in instant pair-bonding. I think that’s the autism-to-autism connection being made. (It’s also known as the morphogenetic field if you’ve played 999.)

Just like how Mahito used movies to bond with Junpei, Yuji does it too. But he uses this shared interest for good and provides a counter to Mahito’s grooming.

And lookie here, he can even utilize his love of movies to bond with people who aren’t into them at all. Junpei’s mom may not get it, but she’s endeared by it. This unparalleled autistic rizz is fundamental to Yuji’s character. And in my opinion, his relationship with Todo Aoi best showcases this.

Everyone knows that Todo and Yuji’s shared love of tall women with big butts is what brought them together. But what’s most overlooked is the specific tall woman with a big butt that made this possible in the first place. Before Todo even asks Yuji for his type, Yuji makes it known he is aware of who Takada is. (He happened to see her on TV as stated in CFYOW, JJK Summer of Ashes, Autumn of Dust Ch 4 Pgs 89–90. Ijichi is the secret Takada fan.)

Takada is who prompts Todo into asking. She is also the one who appears in Todo’s delusions, guiding him to victory and driving most of the reasons behind his actions. With great confidence I can say Todo’s special interest is Takada. (And most of the fanbase assumes he’s autistic, so I don’t feel the need to explain that more.)

And what’s crazy about his special interest of his is that it fudging works. Takada and his love for manga help Todo create successful strategies. I include his love of manga because his fakeout with Mahito is a Hunter x Hunter reference.

It’s a bit spoilers to discuss how exactly this is genius, but you’ll have to trust me when I say it’s very clever. Rather than simply nodding to the source material, Todo is using the twist reveal from that scene and subverting it to help Yuji win.

This is nearly identical to Laois utilizing his special interest monster knowledge to create victories out of what would be defeats for other characters. Todo weaponizes his autism in a way that works perfect for sorcery.

But when it comes to interpersonal relationships? It destroys them. Everyone who isn’t Yuji hates Todo. 

Todo Aoi is second to Gojo Satoru when it comes to characters considering him the greatest source of stress. (Momo, Mai, and Kamo with Kokichi dedicating pages 43–46 of CFYOW JJK Thorny Road at Dawn, Chapter 2 to how much Todo stresses him out.)

They’re most annoyed with him when he talks about his special interest—Takada. She is a huge reason as to why Todo is such a good sorcerer, you could even call her The Reason he’s so good. People rely on him quite literally weaponizing his autism. But when he starts being autistic outside of sorcery? They don’t tolerate it. 

This is a recurring problem for autistic sorcerers. The very people that depend on their weaponized autism will scorn it the moment it no longer serves them directly. It’s a very Not In My Backyard (NIMBY) mentality. Sure they want all the benefits but keep the drawbacks out of their sight.

Yuji’s Loneliness

Just like Todo, Yuji suffers from social disconnect due to his autism. He feels like he struggles to understand and connect with others on a deeper level. His own feelings and other people’s feelings are sometimes a mystery to him.

On a surface level Yuji seems to be on the same wavelength as Junpei through their shared love of movies. That is until they fight each other. Yuji doesn’t understand that Junpei is acting out of grief at the start of their fight. He says something insensitive at first, but he eventually asks Junpei to spell things out so he can understand what’s going on.

It takes until the end of the Sukuna fight for Yuji to truly connect with someone—Megumi. But it’s only because they both make their feelings known directly to each other. Before that though? As discussed earlier, the autistic traits that make him good at sorcery are often off-putting to others.

I mentioned how Yuji mirrors others in what seems to be an attempt to understand others in that post I linked. In the same one I also discuss how Yuji is able to decenter himself and sync up with just about anyone. With respect to his autism, this really reads like masking to me. 

When Yuji lets that mask slip and indulges his personal hobbies, it’s a toss up on whether or not he’ll be accepted or rejected. The movies that allowed him to pairbond with Junpei don’t work for everyone. Just like Mahito with Jogo…being a filmbro causes friction with Megumi and Nobara. 

Though Yuji otherwise gets along very well with Megumi and Nobara, there is something so very relatable and sad about seeing this particular hobby of his being trashed. What’s worse is that the 2 people who would’ve matched his freak in this regard are both dead: Junpei and the one who intensified this interest of his in the first place—Gojo Satoru.

Gojo Satoru’s Autism

I must confess, this entire post got written because of this anonymous ask I was sent a while ago. I was surprised to get it since I assumed everyone understood Gojo to be autistic by default like Laois Dungeon Meshi. So I’m going to copy and paste this anon’s words because all their observations are correct.

"As someone with Autisim, I heavily identify with how he was raised (the gifted child who is too observant vs the prophesied child who was raised to be a weapon first) and the way other react around him (treating everything he says and does with disdain)

I find the way he clings so strongly to the idea of strong and weak even after Geto and Toji yet still having a sense of justice/ noticing the unfairness of it all, his sensitivity issues, his ability to notice emotional cues yet not having the means to respond in an allistic way, his tendency to take his jokes and teasing too far/ act too close to people, and the general othering of him just screams autism to me. Like can see a lot of those traits which is usually tamped down by society being exasperated because, what are you going to do, he is the strongest, you can't just tell him off in a serious way, not when, in your society, the strong rule.

I see it especially with his students, where he's taken in all the misfits and is so casual with them in day to day life. Even him throwing them in the proverbial deepend with missions is probably how he was taught by his clan before entering jujitsu tech."

And directly from Gege via the special Gojo Booklet. 

"Q25: born and raised as a high-born, he is regaled by both himself and others are the strongest, and he seems to have want of very little, but what would you consider Gojo's weakness?

A25: His personality.

Q26: what would you consider Gojo Satoru's most intrinsic strength, when you put aside his innate abilities, influence, and physical prowess? 

A26: His personality."

Thank you Gege for stating it so bluntly. The part of Gojo’s personality that is both strength and weakness. Something that makes him a great sorcerer and socially isolated. That’s the autism.

Now that we (that anon) has established that Gojo Satoru is definitely autistic, let’s go over how this has affected his interpersonal relationships.

Improper Socialization

The Gojo Booklet has forever ruined me. Deep in my heart, I knew this was going on, but to have everything confirmed so bluntly is something else. To summarize:

Gojo was born and raised in Kyoto by an extremely closed-off traditionalist family. His Clan treated him as an investment rather than a person, focusing on his education as a sorcerer and neglecting him emotionally to create the perfect living weapon. It’s implied he was educated privately and did not attend a school with other people until high school. It’s also implied that the Clan kept Gojo under strict watch while his powers developed because of the assassination attempts. Regardless, the isolation, training, and exploitation he endured was severe enough for him to break out and run away multiple times. His attendance at Jujustu Tech in Tokyo was his first time being allowed to interact with others on his own terms rather than his Clan’s.

This means that until Gojo was 15, he likely never had friends. His interactions with other humans amounted to deification, a type of objectification where he was expected to be a tool to further other people’s comfort. Essentially, up until he met Geto, he only knew how to exist as a living weapon. 

I don’t think I need to explain why this would negatively impact socialization. Anyone raised by extremely strict/abusive parents or a cult will tell you how difficult it is to try and interact with normal society after having social skills deliberately stunted for most of your life. This lack of socialization is only compounded by autism. Not only is a sheltered autistic person inclined to be socially unaware, they have no frame of reference to what is socially acceptable.

I’ll use myself as an example. The only reason I’m not completely unpalatable in conversation is because public school allowed me to observe what normal human interactions and mannerisms look like. Otherwise, I’d be like Mahito—learning about the world through the limited media I was allowed to consume. (And even then I still took it at face-value for a pretty long time.)

Gojo is sort of in the same situation as Mahito. His Clan reportedly spoiled him rotten, so he was probably allowed to have all the toys, TV, movies, books, and games he wanted between obligations. This means that it is very likely his ideas of the world at large come from media. And boy does it seem to have affected the way he is.

Trying to Connect with Others

Nanami directly compares Gojo to Mahito. Megumi straight up thinks Gojo and Yuji are the same kind of person as stated in CFYOW, JJK Summer of Ashes, Autumn of Dust Chapter 1: Kiyujitsu Kaisen.

So like Yuji and Mahito, Gojo will use media he’s familiar with to make sense of the world around him and hold conversations with others. (In the anime they have Gojo do the tornado kick which straight up appears to be him doing an in-verse reference to Code Geass's Suzaku Spin Kick aka the Spinzaku Kick. Please do not ask me how I recognized this.)

And would you look at that. Most people do Not know how to handle this. Not even Geto who is more visibly confused by his Digimon metaphor in the anime.

I can’t really blame them for their reactions either. Gojo is such a special combination of unfortunate circumstances and experiences that you might as well be listening to someone speak an unknown language. 

This goes both ways too. Gojo himself has a very hard time understanding others and tends to take the words of others Very Literally. (Just like Yuji!) This leads to him experiencing the Double Empathy Gap the most when compared to other autistic characters.

The Geto stuff is the most tragic to me. Gojo checked in on him and Geto lied about his feelings. To Gojo, Geto is his best friend. Why would he lie to him? Geto says he’s ok so Gojo thinks he’s ok. (That’s not even getting into the higher ups overworking them both and keeping them separate on purpose.) His upbringing and his autism made it impossible for him to read between the lines, so Geto's betrayal very much comes out of nowhere for him. 

The same happens with Shoko okaying the desecration of his corpse, Nanami calling him a pervert and everyone agreeing. Gojo truly believes that the people close to him see him in a very one-dimensional way and there’s nothing he can do about it. After all, he was raised to be a weapon and nothing more.

Funnily enough, Gojo’s Alexithymia is so bad that parts of the fandom have seemingly done the double empathy gap thing to him with respect to his flower metaphor.

“There was always a gulf between me and other people, even if they adored me. You can admire a flower and help it bloom…but you can’t ask it to understand you.”

To me, all Gojo is doing here is explaining his feelings as best he can. Floral language is a big thing in Buddhism which is probably why he makes the comparison. However…I’ve seen interpretations of this that conclude Gojo believes himself so far above others that they might as well be non-sentient plants. To them, this metaphor speaks to his arrogance rather than a clumsy/poetic attempt to communicate his feelings.

I’ll use myself as an example to explain why I think it’s just the autism in action. I often like animals way more than I do other people. Snakes, birds, lizards, spiders, and scorpions are amongst my favorites. Sometimes I compare people to these animals.

What I mean: I think highly of you! You share traits with my favorite animals and that makes me happy.

What others can hear: I think you’re stupid (lizard/bird brained), untrustworthy (a snake), and lesser than me (a bug/arachnid).

Now I could be projecting because I see my autistic traits in Gojo, but I do find it fascinating that how you view Gojo’s flower metaphor is highly dependent on how you feel about him.

Regardless, it does a great job at illustrating how isolated Gojo feels from others. Sometimes my autism makes me feel like I’m a completely different species because I can’t interact with people normally. And in Gojo's case, he can't even refer to himself as a human. The disconnect from others and his dehumanization is so strong he feels he can no longer identify as human.

No one’s autism is exactly the same, so this rift can even exist between autistic people. This is how you can get Yuji and Gojo bonding over their shared autistic traits but not fully understanding each other and feeling isolated for it.

But it’s still really sweet that they connect with movies so well that Gojo’s filmbroness rubs off on Yuji.

It’s also a little concerning that Gojo refers to these movies like a catalog for emotions. Like the proper way to experience emotions is through media and not in person.

The training Gojo subjects Yuji to with movies is likely how he was trained as a child. This suggests that for the first 15 years of his life, movies and other media might have been his only frame of reference for everything not Jujutsu Sorcery. And I mean Everything.

Combine this with The ‘Tism and this could possibly explain exactly what is wrong with Gojo Satoru. (You already know where I’m going with this.)

Gojo’s Racism

Here’s a list of movies for sure Gojo has watched. And for no reason in particular I’m going to include if they have a black person (like myself) in them.

Sourced from a Gege Interview.

Léon: The Professional (1994): Yes

The Descent (2005): No

The Host (2013): No

The Emperor's Naked Army Marches On (1987): No

Deep Blue Sea (1999): Yes

Extra movies from the anime. (Aka probably canon.)

Juggernaut (1974): No

Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001): No

That's only 2 movies with black people in them. I went ahead and watched them to confirm my suspicions...

Léon: The Professional (1994)

Not much to say about the black characters here. From what I saw and the IMDb list, they're all men and they're all background characters. Also I couldn’t finish the film because of how creepy it is towards the 11 year old actress. (It's really bad. Like really, really bad. Traumatized the actress, Natalie Portman, kind of bad. Wish I had a content warning!)

Deep Blue Sea (1999)

Gojo wasn't lying, the heroine died spectacularly. However in terms of spoilers, he glossed over the actual twist death. There's also someone who dies by being bit in half by a shark. And the way those legs looked like Gojo's...

There are 2 black characters in this movie. One is a jovial goofball chef who somehow survives to the end. (Miguel calls this trope out specifically in JJK 255.) There are so many points in this movie where he should've died. His name is Preacher and he has a parrot that is a Red-Crowned Amazon by the way. The other is a rich investor played by Samuel L Jackson who does Not fall into the Scary Black Man trope for once. Preacher doesn't either, he's more of a Gentle Giant.

Both of them function in the film as a subversion of the Magical Negro trope. And after watching this movie, I think Gege was inspired to make Miguel Odol fill this role too.

Anyways, the takeaways from this are 1) Black people are underrepresented in media. 2) What is representing black people in popular media isn't all that varied.

This means if media is your only exposure to black people, those representations will be internalized if you're uncritical about it. (You're reading this on Tumblr I assume you believe racism is real.) It's unconscious most of the time. People usually don't actively go, "Wow black people are all like this!" What happens is they run into a black person irl, are reminded of their impressions via visual similarity, and then say or do some out of pocket nonsense. (I have personally experienced this at the hands of Japanese tourists.)

And what does Mr. Gojo Satoru say to Miguel first? He says Miguel looks like he’ll be trouble. Later he says Miguel's strength and build are because of his race and what makes him dangerous even though Gojo knows several Japanese men with similar physiques. 

If he's never met a black man irl before...he must have gotten that idea from somewhere else. He does mention knowing the MMA star turned comedian Bobby Ologun (a big strong and goofy guy) when comparing him to Miguel.

Bobby Ologun is Nigerian. Miguel is Kenyan. Do you know how pissed East Africans get when lumped into the same category as West Africans and vice versa? (For the less informed please see Western Europe’s hatred of Slavs and other Eastern Europeans.)

But as far as Gojo knows from his media, black men are big, strong, and funny. The media he consumes also doesn’t bother to distinguish the different cultures of Africans. Dark Skin=Black and that’s it. And his dismissal of Miguel's distress over the loss of his rope only highlights that apathy towards individual cultures.

All this has terrible consequences for Miguel in the form of Benevolent Racism. This is where a prejudice that can be perceived as positive has negative outcomes for the target. Aka Gojo commits a racially motivated beatdown because of his ignorance that was fueled by the media he consumed growing up. (Miguel's Cursed Technique reminding Gojo of Toji not withstanding.)

Now I’m not saying autism makes you racist. It’s that Gojo’s isolation from the outside world, being raised by emotionally distant conservatives, and consuming media uncritically with his unique brand of autism creates the disaster that are the words coming out of his mouth.

Gojo being this kind of racist. Where he idolizes a type of strength in black people he learned from stereotypes in his movies, is great actually. I really like that Miguel calls it out and is sick of it. He even sarcastically tries to throw back the stereotypes about Japanese people to make his point too.

And guess who else only knows of black people through movies? Sukuna. He’s an art freak, there’s no way he didn’t watch some of those films Yuji was watching. And Miguel can smell it a mile away. Sukuna gives him that look and Miguel is already done with it. Honestly the way Miguel enforces his boundaries is great. He knows his limits both with risking his life and tolerating racism.

Anyways, Gojo Satoru has been running on 3 hours of sleep, sugar, and Reverse Cursed Energy like a madman for years. I don’t think he’s ever sat down and gone, “Huh? Why do I think the way I do? Why do I believe this?” Miguel is probably the first person to ever tell him, that’s racist my dude. (This is an explanation not an excuse btw.)

And that’s kind of the problem. Gojo is willing to learn and do better, but he hasn’t had the time do it on his own. Some outside force has to tell him bluntly, “Yo this isn’t socially acceptable.” (Think of how Geto influenced his morals and manners by telling Gojo exactly what he should do.)

This leads me to believe his mind is a hodgepodge of things he’s uncritically absorbed as a child and that has influenced his questionable beliefs/actions as an adult in ways he’s unable to recognize.

Gojo’s Other Problems

Outside of racism, Gojo’s most unpleasant traits include mild sexism and child endangerment. The sexism comes from how he speaks to Utahime and how treats Shoko compared to Geto. Though he otherwise does not outwardly discriminate against them, it is sus that he sees Rika, a girl transformed into a cursed spirit, and goes "Dang, women are scary." (The child endangerment is self-evident.)

For some reason, Gojo truly believes for some reason that the woman (Shoko) in his life isn’t emotionally capable of being on the same level with him as a man (Geto). This could just be a strength-based thing since Geto told him that’s why they can’t be together anymore. It’s really hard to tell. But if it really is a sexism thing, media in general being misogynistic could explain it. (On top of being raised by a traditionalist family in a society that is very sexist.)

Well-rounded female characters whose complex emotions and inner lives are explored in depth can be very hard to come by, especially in popular media. (If you want media that primarily focuses on female characters GO READ UMINEKO NOW.) A lot of the movies and manga Gojo consumes treat women as love interests first and people second. And since you’re reading this on Tumblr, you’ve probably seen posts that complain about this and how this feeds into irl interactions.

This idea comes into play with Utahime in a different way. Gojo doesn’t understand that Utahime actually hates him. This is a bit odd given that he usually takes people’s hostility towards him to heart. But a place where he could get the idea that her anger is secretly affection is…the tsundere archetype in the mangas he’s so fond of. (Gojo reads a lot of Shonen Jump, it’s no wonder he has negative rizz with women after they get past his good looks.)

Yuji does it, Todo does it, Mahito does it—they use the media they’ve consumed as a baseline for sorcery. They’re the best at what they do for it. There’s no way Gojo isn’t doing the exact same thing, especially when he’s teaching his students. He tries to fit the quirky mentor archetype who uses tough love to guide his students. (His blindfold might be an actual in-verse Kakashi Naruto reference.) And he falls into faulty logic where everything will work out if he leaves it all to his students which fulfills most Shonen story beats.

The stunt with Megumi that kickstarted this series is a 2-for-1 special. Gojo eating sweets is needed to maintain his technique. Him eating them is acting as a responsible adult. However, getting them several hundred kilometers away from his student who is in a dangerous situation is irresponsible. It may speak to how much he trusts Megumi to handle things on his own, but as an adult in charge of a child? This is very poor judgement on Gojo's end.

I also understand that Gojo's upbringing and Japan's culture (aka it's generally safe for a child to be outside alone) is probably why he's so comfortable leaving a roughed up looking child by herself. But like...he should've called someone for Hana. Maybe he did later? (Another case of is this Gege underdeveloping Hana/Tsumiki or is Gojo truly that careless towards little girls...)

Shonen is pretty notorious for uncritically putting children in situations. It probably doesn’t help that Gojo’s own family was violating multiple Japanese labor laws when putting him to work as a kid. I’m not joking about that either.

Per The Constitution of Japan (May 3, 1947) Chapter III Article 27 Paragraph 3: 

“Children shall not be exploited.”

What constitutes child labor exploitation are outlined in Japan’s Labor Standards Act (LSA) or Act No. 49 of April 7, 1947.

Per LSA Chapter IV Article 56 Paragraph 2:

“…an employer may employ a child of at least 13 years of age in an occupation…which involves light labor that is not injurious to the child's health and welfare…”

Additional protections for workers are outlined in Japan’s equivalent of OSHA, aka the Industrial Safety and Health Act (ISHA) or Act No. 57 of June 8, 1972. 

Per ISHA Chapter VII-2 Article 71-2:

“An employer must endeavor to create a comfortable work environment in order to improve the level of safety and health in the workplace by continuously and systematically taking measures as follows:

measures to manage the maintenance of a comfortable work environment;

measures to improve work methods for work in which workers engage;

providing and streamlining facilities and equipment for workers to recover from fatigue suffered in the course of their work;

the necessary measures to create a comfortable work environment, beyond as set forth in the preceding three items.”

I think it’s safe to say that Gojo not including any of his Clan members in his afterlife scene and being so overworked that he doesn't have hobbies or think much outside of sorcery is proof of this exploitation. Gojo’s self-reported best years of his life were high school and those were still exploitative as hell. The man is a walking and talking human rights violation.

The only time we see child Gojo is from the perspective of assassins staking him out. Gojo himself never willingly recalls his childhood, only his teenage years. He looks so serious and miserable compared to his older self too. (It kind of reminds me of how I was a very quiet, obedient child that blossomed into the yappy evil creature I am now thanks to obtaining legal rights and freedom as an adult.)

This exploitation of children at the hands of adults in Jujutsu Society is normalized in and outside of fiction in their universe. Gojo can tell something is wrong with how he was treated and doesn’t want his students to hurt for it. But he can’t recognize that child labor in or itself is bad, so his solution is to make them strong enough to stand up for themselves. (Aka trying to make a labor union without knowing what a union is. Still breaking child labor laws though.)

Might makes right is a Shonen staple (please see Dragon Ball Z or Baki the Grappler). And though taking that idea to heart seems to be the most of Gojo’s problems as a teacher, there’s an additional issue this genre has—neglecting emotional development and care for the most part.

Characters in Shonen or action movies will go through extremely traumatic events and have little to no reaction to them. (PTSD who? Unless you're goated like Steven Universe Future or Vinland Saga.) It can give people a false sense of invincibility. They also rarely ever discuss the steps that can be taken to handle these emotions. You’ll see characters have panic attacks but rarely how to coax someone out of it. Heartbreak is rampant, but the solutions are to never let go and let it consume you, never how to move on or mourn. (If outright ignoring it like nothing happened isn’t what occurs.)

You can see these kinds of ideas with Geto. A second love is not possible for Gojo. He was his one and only and will always be his one and only. That’s the type of romanticism that has always been in his media.

If Gojo has relied on media to teach him how to feel out his emotions, effectively and healthily coping with grief and breakups is pretty hard to find. Most of the time when media handles those topics directly, it does so in a way that promotes reflecting on your own experiences instead of instructing you how to deal with it. Something Gojo didn’t really have time for. 

In the light novels Gojo greatly laments his own inability to deal with grief. He wants his students to learn how to do that effectively and even employs outside help with this.

The result of all this is a really overworked weird guy that feels like there’s no way to process his emotions. He puts on a mask when he talks to others and still winds up alienating himself. He’s tolerated for his labor and dehumanized for what makes him good at it. This is all extremely autistic. 

Exploiting Autistic Labor

I want to emphasize again, not all autistic people have these traits. The best sorcerers just happen to all have these traits in common.

Hyperfixating on the task at hand without rest.

Not having a typical reaction to dangerous situations.

Taking words at face-value.

Disconnect from emotions and other people.

Unique perspective for problem solving. 

These are all things that make for the ideal worker. Autistic people are often compared to machines for their behaviors and what is better for the capitalist than a person that behaves like a machine? 

But autistic people are not machines. They’re humans with flaws subject to burnout, emotional dysregulation, meltdowns, off-putting behavior, and isolation.

Jujutsu Society has no incentive to help with these things, especially the emotional dysregulation or isolation. In fact, it encourages this outcome because isolated people are easier to manipulate and exploit. But this also results in the friction these characters have in their relationships.

It’s a situation where they try to have their cake and eat it too. Everyone loves when Gojo is a Jujutsu Pervert in battle. They make him do everything for it. But the second he starts being weird outside of work, they want nothing to do with him. Or they’ll even insult him for the very traits they’re more than happy to use him for. (It’s exactly like Todo. Everyone depends on his battle intuition and reliability. And that all stems directly from his special interest Takada that no one wants to hear about.)

This creates a very uncomfortable dynamic where Gojo is seemingly bears the burden for everyone and everything while the people he’s servicing refuse to acknowledge it. He’s like some kind of public emotional punching bag or hatesink for other characters because they think he can take it as The Strongest. I don’t know if this is because of the autism, but it is scarily similar to how myself and my other autistic friends get treated by others irl. I think this is why I had such a visceral reaction to JJK 269. I too have experienced allistic people exploiting my labor and then acting like I’ve never done anything for them.

And speaking of JJK 269…Kusakabe has always been that kind of dickhole. He’s been in favor of Yuji’s execution since the start. But that’s not what makes him so aggravating. It’s that he’s too cowardly to do it himself. He once again, pushes the burden onto Gojo. He’s not going to be the child killer even though he wants this child dead, that’s Gojo’s job. Gojo is the tool he and everyone else uses to do the things they don’t like. 

This includes the teaching Kusakabe thinks Gojo is bad at. Per that one flashback, Gojo had to instruct Yuta more because Kusakabe didn't do an adequate job. Gojo had to send Yuta to Kenya to be trained by Miguel because neither of them were doing enough for Yuta. Gojo recognized his own limits and enlisted help. Kusakabe projected his own shortcomings onto Gojo and waited for everyone else to find a solution for him.

I also want to remind everyone that Kusakabe is wrong about Yuji needing to be executed. Yuji and Sukuna were Kenjaku’s backup plan. Kenjaku would’ve sealed Gojo and started the Merger anyways. In fact, Gojo, Yuji, and Sukuna are the only reason Kenjaku didn’t win. Plus the remaining Sukuna fingers were getting stronger All By Themselves. This means that Kusakabe would just be kicking the can down the road and making it a problem for the younger generation. Gojo was the only adult with enough foresight to do something that would solve the problem.

We’ve also got Ui Ui calling himself the MVP of the Sukuna fight while failing to acknowledge the only reason he could warp in and out without dying was Gojo exhausting Sukuna in the first place. Gojo’s contributions seemingly don’t count because he’s not a person. He’s a tool they used. So all his labor counts as theirs instead.

And because he’s dead, Yuta really is the new Gojo. Please see how Yuta was treated before and after Gojo’s death side by side. 

(I can’t tell if this is character assassination or the point. But the only person here allowed to criticize Yuta is Todo as far as I’m concerned.) 

Yuta is their new Strongest hatesink who happens to be autistic as hell. And yes, Yuta’s autism is second to Gojo Satoru’s. 

(Yuta's leans much more into socially unaware straightforwardness and taking things literally. He doesn't have a special interest or infodumps at people and I think that's neat.)

Everyone grills into Yuta so hard over his plans for the Sukuna battle that he experiences the quintessential autistic experience as described by Twitter User PenGwenWithLC:

"The autistic trait that bites me in the ass most frequently is my impenetrable belief that if I show people the truth they will believe me."

Mind you, Yuta is the main reason they won after Gojo died. This boy had Back Up Plans A through Z and they worked. The only person who had valid input on his planning was…Gojo (and possibly Todo). The finger resonance with Nobara was Gojo’s idea (JJK 267 Pgs 4-5...Also let's talk about how if Gojo wasn't a hopeless romantic and scheduled this fight a day or even an hour later, he might have lived based on Nobara's wake up time.). Once again, these are all autistic characters using their unique ways of thinking to solve problems others are too cowardly to address.

And then these same people turn around and disparage them without acknowledging their efforts or emotions. Sure you can call it lashing out because they secretly care about them. (Aka tsundere behavior.) But both Yuta and Gojo take other people’s words at face value. They don’t understand that this is a very fudged up display of affection and internalize it. Gojo died convinced everyone except maybe 3 people hated him and even in death he couldn’t escape it. 

This is also why Gojo leaving Yuta in Miguel’s care was a good thing. Miguel seems to be the sole person in this series who knows how to avoid labor exploitation. Nanami may see work as nonsense and have an overtime mechanic, but Miguel simply does not work overtime. He sets his boundaries and sticks to them.

It’s very ironic that Yuta took flack for respecting the boundaries of a black man that refused to be exploited by the very people that would treat him poorly.

How to Not Exploit Autistic Labor

CW: Discussion of Suicide

The last time I examined the tragedy of Gojo Satoru I wanted him to live and be loved. But I’m not sure if I want that now. It doesn’t really seem like the systemic issues that caused his exploitation have been addressed, and the people he’s helped refuse to acknowledge they are standing on the shoulders of giants. Him becoming suicidal over this exploitation and choosing death because he saw no end to this is a particularly harsh reflection of what happens in reality.

Yuji notices that Gojo is acting out of character during his final talk with him. The arrogant, self-aggrandizing chipper he's used to has been replaced with this timid optimism. Gojo tells Yuji and everyone else to forget about him because he's confident they'll be living longer than him. Before this, previous chapters have shown that Gojo went around apologizing to others and preparing letters in the advent of his death. These are all warning signs associated with an imminent suicide attempt.

When Gojo tells Yuji this is confidence he's never had before, it seems like he means both his plans to go through with dying and that everyone really will be fine and better off without him.

Gojo also makes sure Yuji doesn't catch on to this. (Probably why he didn't do the soul swap too.) Even with his suicide, he's doing his best to make sure it doesn't negatively impact anyone. His final letters to Megumi and Nobara being so unserious is another attempt to make sure their hearts don't break. ...And nobody he devoted himself to in life or death noticed.

This rather bleak ending for Gojo does have a purpose I think. It’s an example of how hypercapitalist work culture doesn’t value your life. You can bend over backwards and put your all into work, but in the end, you’re just another cog to be used. Gojo’s dehumanization was inevitable under this system. This man was born to be used as a tool and discarded once he served his purpose. And because he’s not a person, people get really mad when he does anything outside of what benefits them directly. Since to them, it’s like a machine malfunctioning.

It’s unlikely these people will ever mourn him properly, let alone even acknowledge his efforts (outside of Yuji and Yuta that is). His closest “friends” in death thought of him as a self-serving pervert you know. (Once again, not sure if that’s character assassination or showcasing what Jujutsu Society does to people, but wow does it suck to see.)

But you know who did acknowledge Gojo as a human who did his damned best and is worth remembering? Sukuna.

Sukuna stopped the whole battle to lavish praise on Gojo and mourn him. He’s done that for everyone who has put up a decent fight against him. The other sorcerers? They do no such thing, even after the battle.

And you know who takes the time to cherish and mourn his comrades no matter what? Jogo.

I excluded Mahito from the autistic labor exploitation discussion for good reason. The natural disaster curses treat Mahito better than most humans have ever treated Gojo. Jogo doesn’t exploit Mahito’s autism, he embraces it. And despite their weird behaviors and beliefs stressing him out most of the time, Jogo does nothing to stop Mahito from being themself. He expresses his distaste, sure, but Jojo otherwise acknowledges those traits are what makes Mahito good for their cause. Mahito is his equal, not a tool.

Jogo doesn’t tell Mahito what to do or feel. He rolls with their shenanigans while wearing his heart on his sleeve. He takes time to mourn his comrades no matter how dire the situation. He acts with their interests in mind at all times—even in death his first concerns are his comrades. 

Even though Mahito is alive, Jogo worries for them while still having faith in their abilities. He looks forward to seeing Mahito again via reincarnation. I cannot say the same of Gojo’s allies. 

I’m not really sure how to end this discussion since I’m continuing it in another part. But if there’s anything you take away form this incomplete analysis, please let it be this one thing:

Jogo is best girl.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WICKED LOVE WILL LEAVE ME BLIND

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dangerous games are played between you and dazai during one of the most important events of the year for the japanese underworld. you're never this risky, not when your reputation is on the line, but fuck being near him just seems draw out all of the worst in you.

(wordcount: 4.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia member!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, public sex, spitting, unprotected sex, gagging dazai w/your panties, switch!dazai, switch!reader. lmk if anything is missing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: WOOWWWWWWW u all can thank tumblr user mioblobby for this one, she sent in an ask 3 days ago and this consumed me so badly that i dropped all of my wips to write this. anyway, enjoy dazai & pmreader being absolute FREAKS in public

His gaze hasn’t left you once all night. You can feel it dark and heavy from where he’s leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the room, black coat hanging around his shoulders and a cold, unapproachable expression on his face, looking every bit the wraith people claim him to be. 

Chuuya is off somewhere to your side, smooth talking two of Mishima’s daughters, surely planning to end the night in one of their beds to get those loose lips moving about the meeting that their father had with Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber two weeks ago, something he’s been unnervingly tight lipped about when Mori pried. 

You’re entertaining two of the younger members of Mishima’s upper echelon, Abe Kimifusa and Ibuse Masuji—they can’t be much older than you, early twenties max, and they’re delighted by the attention you’re giving them. Ibuse is half hanging off your shoulders, arm wrapped around you, too many drinks in as he leans in close and laughs at some comment Abe makes about one of their fellow executives. You smile idly as you listen, resting against him as you take in their words, trying to pretend to be engaged with the conversation to not give away how you’re hyper-focused on a certain black-haired executive in the distance. 

Usually, he would join you and Chuuya in your attempts to gather some easy intel on the Sun and Steel—that’s what he’s done the past year and a half, at least, targeting some of the older members of Mishima’s upper echelon who would sell half of their organs and their soul for a night with the untouchable Demon Prodigy. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now, knowing what he told you, but you still can’t help but be a little surprised that he’s not even trying to put up a facade of charm and wit, rather spending his time skulking in the shadows watching you, especially when his usual targets are so blatantly staring at him, waiting for him to make a move.

You think it’s hypocritical the way you’re so pleased over the fact that he’s not entertaining anyone tonight, because the thought of him letting any of those men drape themselves all over him like Ibuse currently is with you leaves a very sour taste in your mouth.

You also think that’s why you’re letting Ibuse take it as far as he has—to see Dazai get wound up about it. You don’t typically let people get touchy with you unless you plan on taking them to bed, and you have absolutely no intention of fucking Ibuse Masuji. He’s pretty enough with dark hair and a nice smile, but too stupid for your taste—maybe that’s a good thing though, if he’s already so loose-lipped now with only a few drinks in him, you can’t imagine how much he’d let slip in a post-orgasm induced haze.

You start to reconsider your decision on Ibuse, looking up at him contemplatively as he makes a snide comment about Kamatsu Sakyo—an older executive of the Sun and Steel, one of the ones you know have spent a night, or more, with Dazai, so your smile is a bit more genuine when you hear the way Ibuse drags him for being incompetent and useless.

“The older generation has to go,” Ibuse hisses, shaking his head as his arm tightens around you, leaning back against the wall. “They’re running us into the fucking ground. That fucker Kamatsu wants us to take that deal from the Red Chamber-”

“Masuji,” Abe warns, giving you a careful look, not as drunk as his companion. You raise your eyebrows at the comment from Ibuse, looking at him questioningly.

Ibuse waves off Abe haphazardly. “The Port Mafia did it right,” he says bluntly, taking another sip of his drink. “Wiped out the whole old regime after the previous boss died. That’s what the Boss should’ve done when he took over from his father. All of these old fucks need to drop dead.”

“The meeting with Xueqin went that poorly?” you ask casually, sure to keep the interest out of your tone as you look up at Ibuse.

“Don’t even get me started,” Ibuse scoffs. “That fucker wants-”

You’re careful to keep the irritation off your face when you hear the telltale sound of Mishima preparing to give his annual ‘thank you, fruitful alliances ahead!’ speech that always bores you to tears. Next to you, Ibuse sighs and pulls his arm off of you, pushing off the wall.

“We’ve gotta go up there with him. I’ll find you later?” he asks you, eyes a bit too hopeful, voice eager as he waits for your response.

“Definitely,” you say—the things you do for information.

With most of the attendees of the ball distracted by Mishima’s speech, you slip away to make your way over to the far corner where Dazai is waiting. Still, he tracks you—from the moment you make your subtle escape from the crowd until you’re standing right in front of him in the shadows where he’s lingering, his gaze remains trained on you, intense in a way that lets you know that he’s unhappy, if the way his jaw is tight didn’t.

“You’ve been having fun tonight,” he drawls, voice low as he looks down at you, arms folded across his chest.

“Is that what it seemed like?” you say lightly, taking a step closer, casting one last glance behind you to ensure that all eyes are pinned on Mishima before hooking your fingers into his belt loops to tug him closer to you. “At least I’m doing my job properly then.”

“It’s your job to let Mishima’s whore of an executive drape himself all over you?” Dazai tilts his head to the side, one hand sliding behind you to close the small distance between the two of you, leaving your chest pressed to his.

No, you let that drag on just because you could tell how irate Dazai was becoming over it, but Dazai doesn’t have to know that. So instead, you play coy.

“I have appearances to keep up,” you say, tilting your head up with a simpering smile, enjoying the way his gaze immediately darts down to your lips, lingering there before he has to forcibly drag it back up to your eyes. “You know that.”

“Yeah?” Dazai hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze drifts above you. “Maybe I should be making more of an effort with appearances then, Kamatsu has had his eye on me all night.”

Your eye doesn’t twitch at his words, but your grip on his belt loops tightens. “You don’t want to play that game with me, Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice deceptively mild.

“And why is that?” Dazai drawls, looking too smug for your liking as he looks down at you as if realizing how much his threat bothered you.

“Because I’ll win,” you say easily, fingers slipping from his belt loops to slide your hands up and down his sides before settling them on his slim hips, relishing in the way his lashes flutter at your touch. “You know that. It’s unlike you to pick losing battles.”

“I won’t lose,” Dazai says with a scoff, and you walk him backward until the back of his knees hit a chair, guiding him back to sit down in it as Mishima finally starts a long-winded speech that’s going to last at least twenty or thirty minutes.

You give Dazai another teasing smile as you stand in front of where he’s sitting, lifting your hand to his chin, tilting his face up toward you. You lean down, lips brushing his as you murmur, “You already have.”

“Have I?” Dazai asks, amused. He unconsciously leans forward to capture his lips with yours but you shift just out of reach before he can, raising your eyebrows pointedly at the annoyed look he gives you.

You make quick work of undoing his tie, slipping it from his neck before wrapping it loosely around your wrist, hyper aware of the way his gaze is trained sharply on your face, studying your every move. You bring your other hand back up to his face, cupping his cheek gently, and your breath catches as he leans into your touch, eye lidded as he looks up atwith you. He tilts his head to the side to press his lips against your palm, keeping eye contact as he lifts his hand to cover yours, shifting it so he can graze his lips against the pulse point on your wrist.

“You have,” you agree, grateful that your voice isn’t as breathless as you feel from the combined intensity of his gaze and his lips on your skin.

“How so?” Dazai looks entirely too smug, probably can feel the way your pulse is racing under his touch, and you itch to wipe the smugness right off of his face.

“I’m meeting Ibuse after this speech,” you tell him, now entirely too smug yourself as Dazai expression drops and goes icy, fingers stiffening from where his hand is still pressed over yours. “Need to get him to spill about the meeting with the Red Chamber, he already started getting into it before. If I get him alone, we’ll know everything we need.”

“Go ahead,” Dazai sounds deceptively calm, you’d almost believe he didn’t care if the look in his eye didn’t betray him, cold and promising bloodshed. “I’ll kill him.”

“You’ll start a war,” you say absently, the tips of your fingers brushing through his dark hair.

“I don’t care,” Dazai replies, and you know that he’s serious—it should worry you, he could throw all of your work with the Sun and Steel out the window in a split second, but instead you only find yourself giddy, tongue pressing behind your teeth and a smile curving at your lips as you look down at him.

“Careful, Dazai,” you breathe out, “almost sounds like you care.”

He does care, you know that and he knows that, but he refuses to admit it out loud. Refuses to put a label on anything between the two of you. You think it’s his way of maintaining some semblance of control over things; he thinks that if he actually admits what’s going on between the two of you, it’ll be a loss of control over himself that he can’t afford. 

As if threatening to start a gang war with the Mafia’s most important ally because you’re planning to sleep with someone for vital information isn’t a loss of control in itself. 

You also think it might have to do with the broken gasps he’d let out over the phone during the assassination plot on you a few weeks ago, when he thought that he’d miscalculated and they called his bluff, that they were going to get to you and no one was going to be able to get there in time to protect you. 

“Everything I never want to lose is always lost the moment I obtain it.”

You wonder, maybe, if he thinks that not making things official with you is his way of protecting both you and himself. 

But it’s fucking frustrating. It’s frustrating dealing with his hot and cold—days where he’s so clearly enamored with you, spending hours laid up with you admiring you while you do work, looking at you with eyes that should only be reserved for long time lovers, and then there are days where he can hardly bring himself to look at you, avoiding you at every given chance, cold and aloof. It’s frustrating, and it’s exhausting, you just want to be with him.

His eye darkens, jaw clicking at your words, but he doesn’t respond other than that.

You’re not sure what exactly compels you to take another step forward, you watch as his gaze tracks down to the low cut of your dress, as he shifts in his seat, legs spread, clearly withholding the urge to adjust himself in his pants. A dangerous thought crosses your mind, one that you know you should toss away because of where you are, how many people are just on the other side of the room, but you find your body moving before you can stop yourself.

You watch him inhale, gaze tracking down to where your hand has slipped into the high slit of your dress, casting one last look over your shoulder to make sure the two of you are at an angle that no one would be able to easily see you before pulling down your thin black panties—the ones you know he loves and wore just to see the way the pupil of his visible eye becomes blown wide at the sight of them, breath hitching.

You shift closer to him, balling them into your fist, one hand sliding behind the back of his head, fingers entwined with his dark hair as you tilt his head back, eyes tracing the exhilaration on his face as he looks up at you, realizing what you’re going to do, where you’re going to do it.

“You’re crazy,” he breathes out. The words are reverent, he speaks them in the same way you imagine he would tell you he loves you, it makes your breath catch. “Here? What're you gonna do if one of them looks over and sees you stuffed with my cock, hm? How're you gonna explain why you're full of cum when you go meet that clown?”

“You talk too much,” you note, stepping forward. “Open up.”

Dazai’s lips part instinctively, but before you stuff his mouth with your panties, you lean over him, fingers hooking around his bottom lip as you force his mouth a little wider, watching as his breath hitches and his lashes flutter when you spit right into his open mouth, swallowing it immediately. 

Your lips curl up as you lift the hand holding your panties, taking in an unsteady breath as he lets you push your panties between his lips; he lets out a muffled groan around them, eyes sliding shut as if savoring the taste of them. You shift your dress around slightly so you can comfortably straddle his thighs. His hands immediately fly to your waist, but you click your tongue lightly, pushing them off and sliding his tie around his wrists once you’ve got them behind his back.

He tilts his head to the side, giving you a heavy, judgmental look. He doesn’t even have to speak to know what he’s thinking: “You really think this is going to stop me?”

You give him a sweet smile, leaning in to graze your lips against his jaw, feeling the shaky breath he lets out around your panties. “If you free yourself from them,” you murmur, lips brushing his ear as you speak, “I’ll stop.”

You don’t wait for his reaction, directing your attention down toward his slacks, loosening his belt and unbuttoning his pants. You ease his cock out of his briefs, weight heavy in your hand, tip flushed pink and leaky. You give it an experimental pump, using his own precum as lube, and watch as he tilts his head back, giving a full body shudder.

“You’re so easy to rile up,” you sigh softly, shifting forward so that his cock slides between your slick folds, you press your lips to the underside of his jaw to smother the moan you almost let out when his tip catches on your clit. “I love it.”

You know he’s trying to shoot you a withering look, but the effects of it are severely diminished with how his face is flushed pink and his eyes are unfocused. You give him another saccharine smile, and that’s the only warning he gets before you’re sinking down on his cock. 

You can feel every inch of him stretching you open, filling you up until the tip of his cock is nudging right up against your cervix. It takes all of your self control to bite back the loud gasp that nearly rips from your lips, not wanting to have to bury your face in the crook of his neck just yet, watching as he lets out a choked noise that’s loud even with your panties stuffed in his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Careful,” you warn, leaning in to drag your lips up his neck to the corner of his lips. You lift one of your hands to hold the back of his head again, gripping his hair as you force him to look at you again, fingers tugging hard at his hair. His gaze is unfocused, lips parting as he heaves around your panties, throat spasming—he looks fucking divine, and for a moment, you regret doing this here because you might have to kill someone if they see him when he’s looking like this. “You don’t want them to see you like this, yeah?”

You can hear the whine that builds in the back of his throat, trying to rock his hips up into yours. The sloppy sound of his cock driving into your cunt is too loud—Mishima is still speaking loudly, drowning out any noise that could possibly be coming from your secluded corner, but it’s so risky, you almost don’t know what’s gotten into you. If anyone happens to wander over this way…

“God, what do you do to me?” you gasp, leaning in so you can graze your teeth against his neck, threatening to bite down. 

You’re never this reckless—not when it’s your reputation on the line, you’ve spent years honing it into the weapon it’s become, and here you are risking it all just because Dazai Osamu decided to give you bedroom eyes during one of the most important events the Port Mafia attends. Fuck, he drives you insane.

His head lolls forward, forehead resting against the side of yours, lips brushing your ear. You can feel his heavy pants, each one catching over a moan muffled by your panties. You rock your hips back and forth quickly, each drag of his cock against your walls making you hot and lightheaded. Whether it’s just from the sheer pleasure of it all—the way the tip of his cock pressees right into that sensitive spot deep inside of you, the way he’s so quickly coming undone beneath you, body trembling and drool pooling at the corner of his lips around your panties—or if it’s because of the way anyone could wander over in this direction, catch you fucking Dazai so brazenly when there’s a crowd of one hundred and fifty, two hundred of the most important people in the Japanese underworld just on the far side of the room, you don’t know, but heat pools in your abdomen so quickly that it’s almost impossible to control. 

You can feel his breath ragged, his body tense, each roll of your hips against his has Dazai falling apart, and you can feel the telltale sign of his cock twitching inside of you, signaling that he’s about to finish. You tug his hair, pulling his head back from where it's fallen against you, and you lift your other hand quickly up to his lips, pushing them inside of his mouth to hook your fingers around your panties, pulling them out of his mouth.

Instantly, Dazai is pushing himself forward to press his lips against yours, freeing himself of his own tie so his hands can fly to your waist. You let out a low moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue into yours, one hand sliding from your waist to your back, keeping your body flush to his as he grinds you down on his cock hard.

“Fuck,” Dazai groans into your mouth, voice choked. You can see the way he can hardly keep his gaze steady, the way he’s gripping your dress to try to keep himself grounded. “I-ah, shit-I’m close. I’m-”

You lean in to swallow his moan, kissing him hard as his eyes roll to the back of his head, hips stuttering as he spills his cum deep inside of you. Your breath catches at the feeling of his cum filling you up, warm, heavy, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling out from where his cock is still stuffed deep inside of you; it’s the last thing you need to push you over the edge, mind blank and jaw falling slack as your body shudders in his arms.

Black dots spot your vision, your nails dragging down his black coat, your whole body consumed with pleasure—it hits you so hard that you think maybe you might’ve passed out for a split second. The feeling of your release sends a shockwave through Dazai, you can feel the way his body spasms and jerks when your walls suddenly tighten around his sensitive cock.

“God,” Dazai breathes out against your lips, eyes glazed over as the two of you come down from your high, an expression so adoring on his face that you think for a moment, you might be imagining it. “You’re so…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, leaves it to your imagination, and you want to press, but you don’t have the chance because you’re slapped hard with reality when you hear Mishima’s speech coming to an end, eyes widening. Your legs are shaky as you push off of him, hissing at the feeling of his softening cock slipping out of your cunt—you almost snort when you see how Dazai twitches and winces at the sudden movement, still sensitive.

“Clean yourself up,” you tell him sharply, straightening your dress and fixing your hair, trying to catch sight of yourself in the reflection of a nearby glass, watching from the corner of your eye as Dazai stuffs himself back in his pants, wiping your cum off of his expensive black slacks before sucking it right off of his fingers. He grabs his tie from where he’d let it fall to the ground, and then your panties, winking at you before he stuffs them in the pocket of his jacket. 

His gaze lifts to you as he rises to his feet, drifting lazily over your form, lingering on the way your skin glows with a soft sheen of sweat, the loose strands of hair that cling to your forehead—something you hope you can play off considering the air condition in the ballroom isn’t on. Then his gaze settles down on the lower half of your body, lips curling up into a slow smirk.

He takes a few steps closer to you, holding his tie out to you. “Re-tie it?” he hums, and you roll your eyes because you know he can do it himself and you know he has some sort of ulterior motive right now, but you take it from him regardless.

You quickly slide the tie around his neck, trying to tie it quickly before anyone catches sight of the two of you, but with you so focused on getting this done, you miss the way his hand sneaks forward until you feel it slip into the slit of your dress. 

“Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice low, but your breath catches when you feel him gather up all of the cum that had dribbled out of your cunt, head falling against his shoulder as you try to force yourself not to react when he uses two fingers to stuff it right back inside of you.

You can feel the wicked grin against your ear as he leans down to tug your earlobe gently. “Good luck explaining this to Ibuse.”

Then he steps away, dark eye glittering dangerously as he looks down at you.

“I’ll find you later,” he says before turning to walk away.

You’re not sure if it’s a threat or a promise and you don’t have time to make a snide comment asking, because you hear Ibuse approaching you from behind, giddy and excited until he catches sight of Dazai’s infamous black coat retreating, swallowing thickly and eyes flickering nervously between the two of you—a common reaction to the executive’s presence, knowing how dangerous and unpredictable he can be.

You wonder if Dazai would make Ibuse half as nervous and uncomfortable if he’d known he just spent the last fifteen minutes with your panties stuffed in his mouth and his hands tied behind his back, whining and whimpering, muffling all of his sounds so people didn’t overhear the two of you. But you dismiss that thought—that’s knowledge for you to keep to yourself, you don’t like sharing.

“Let’s get out of here?” you hum, drawing him out of his thoughts before he can spiral.

He lights back up again, but you can tell he’s still nervous from Dazai’s brief appearance. “Yeah, c’mon.”

Two hours later, you wander out of one of the back rooms in Mishima’s mansion, intent on getting back to headquarters. You don’t get more than two feet before you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, tugging you backward hard until your back meets a familiar chest.

Your heartbeat stills from the brief bout of erraticness when you felt someone grab you, relaxing back into Dazai, tilting your head back and to the side to look up at him as he holds your hips, keeping you flush to him.

“Did you fuck him?” Dazai asks, voice low and expression unreadable.

You have half a mind to say yes, just to see what Dazai plans to do if you did. He can’t kill Ibuse, not even he is reckless enough to start a war with the Sun and Steel right now, but you don’t think you want to risk it.

“Didn’t have to,” you say honestly. “He was babbling out everything I wanted to know before the doors even closed.”

Dazai searches your face for a moment as if trying to decide if you’re being truthful, when he does, one of his hands slips off your waist into his coat, and you hear the familiar sound of Dazai flipping the safety of his gun back on.

“Dazai,” you snap. “You can’t just-”

“I can do whatever I want,” Dazai interrupts you with the type of confidence that lets you know he had every intention of putting a bullet through Ibuse’s head if you fucked him, regardless of the consequences. The thought of that alone makes your blood run hot, pupils dilating as you look up at him; Dazai’s lips curve up slowly as if he knows just what’s going on in your head. He looks behind you curiously before focusing back down on you asking: “Is he passed out in there?”

“Mhm,” you agree, watching him curiously as you try to figure out what he might be thinking. “Drank too much.”

“Good,” Dazai murmurs, walking you right back into the room you’d come out of, a sharp smile on his face. He closes the door behind the two of you, gaze flickering over to where Ibuse is unconscious on the couch before he backs you up until your knees hit the corner of the bed, pushing you back onto it. “Let’s see if we can wake him up then.”

[sanjisboyfie]

sanji has a crush you ♡

-> alternative title: sanji's ass is gay as fuck and you gotta deal with his flustered ass desperately trying to win you over.

-> kinda rushed aat the end

sanji is exhibiting normal sanji behavior, cutely obsessed with you and everything about you. he's soooooooooooooooooo obsessed. i'm sorry i couldnt help it. forewarning: if you are scared of obsessively in love men DO NOT READ THIS lmfao (that's a joke, but he is rlly in love w u and overwhelmingly so)

sanji x male reader

— just sanji crushing on you and acting like a whole ass middle schooler with a crush, but not in the "i'm gonna pull your hair because i like you, but i don't want you to know" type of way, rather a, "i, uhm, found this pretty flower that...i think you would like...do you like it :3"

you were lounging on the deck of sunny, basking in the sun beside robin and nami. the three of you were peacefully enjoying the breeze, while the girls were talking about their recent adventures and you happily listening on to their stories.

when suddenly, a shadow covers the sun from hitting your skin. lifting the glasses from your eyes, you grin when you notice that the figure is sanji. and he's looking everywhere but you.

"hi, [name]," he greets in a quiet voice, eyes darting everywhere but your bare torso. if he were to look at your glistening skin any longer, he might just get a really bad nosebleed...it was tempting for him, though. you were so handsome, he'd get as many deadly nosebleeds if he needed to just to stare at you longer. but for the sake of keeping you clean of his nosebleed, he continued averting his eyes.

robin and nami stopped their chatter and smiled at each other when they recognized the flustered look on sanji's face.

"hi, sanji," you said in return, leaning against your elbows to comfortably look up at him, "what's that you have there?" you ask politely,

the blonde jumped at the question, clearing his throat as he finally met your eyes, "oh, this, i thought you'd want a drink...it's your favorite," your eyes widened at that, making sanji's heart do leaps.

at moments like this, he loves being the ship's chef. there was no one else on board that could make you react like this, only his careful expertise as being a chef could do this to you. it made him feel important and his face got redder at that fact.

"wow! thanks! you're like a mind reader, i was starting to get a bit too hot-"

"do you want me to move the umbrella more to cover you?" sanji asked immediately, happy to be of service to you. you laughed at his eagerness, shaking your head.

"i think nami and robin are using it right now, i'll be alright. i don't want them to burn up,"

"oh..." sanji's voice trailed off as he lifted his head to bravely look towards the women on the side, "nami-san, robin-chan, is it alright if [name] uses the umbrella for now?" he very politely asked, shoulders square and head held high.

nami laughed at him while robin took it upon herself to answer, "no, it's alright with us," and sanji was bolting over to lift the umbrella and position it right above you, a meek, but proud smile on his face.

"sanji, you didn't have to," you said softly, but then you thanked him for his efforst in making you comfortable. that was enough to make him burst into a tomato red color. "and, by the way, this is delicious! i love it so much, sanji,"

"i love you so much."

"sorry?"

"oh, nothing!! i didn't say anything, [name]!! i said, nothing!!!" and he was running off before you could tease him further.

he slammed the door to the kitchen shut and then repeatedly hit his head against the wood as he muttered degrading words to himself, "idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot!!!"

"well, you are an idiot, we knew that, but now you're acting borderline insane, what's up with you, pervy cook?"

of course, zoro had to be in the kitchen. sanji whipped his head around and screamed at the top of his lungs, "out of my kitchen, marimo!!!"

this made zoro laugh in his face and then leave at his request, muttering something about how love sick sanji was and how obvious he was about it.

— sanji carefully crafted each dish he makes for you, making it look pretty and extra nice. cooking is his speciality and acts of service are his love language. combining the two is the closest he can get to confessing his actual feelings to you.

the crew was lively in the kitchen and you were hidden away in the crow's nest. sanji had drowned you in treats throughout the day, leaving your appetite for the dinner not very big. you assured him (more than 20 times) that you indeed felt full, you weren't skipping meals, and you were already satisfied. that was the only way he let you skip out on dinner.

but while the crew was eating, sanji was still behind the stove. his fingers nimbly moved in decorating the platter very carefully, holding his breath every now and then in anticipation.

"whatcha making, sanji?! extras for me?!" luffy excitedly asked, coming bounding around the counter and standing beside the chef.

immediately, sanji kicked him away and warned him, "do not!! touch this, this isn't yours, luffy! i'm serious, don't even think about it!" sanji looked at the men of the crew, "that goes for the rest of you too, this isn't yours, filthy batards!" and his voice softened as he spoke with a smile to robin and nami, "if you want a dessert, ladies, i wouldn't mind making seconds for you two!"

"it's alright, sanji-kun, just focus on making [name]'s," nami said with a wave of her hand, a knowing look in her eyes.

"yes, i am quite full of the dinner you served already. it was delicious as usual,"

there wasn't a grand shift of emotion on sanji's face as he politely thanked the ladies for their kind words. but then his cheeks erupted in color when he finally caught on to what nami said, "ah! no, no, this isn't for [name]-"

"there's no denying it, sanji, just keep spoiling him rotten and leaving us to starve. even if he is a man just like us, for some reason he's not a "filthy bastard" but [name]~" usopp said in exasperation, eyeing the dessert sanji was making with longing, "we wouldn't expect you to spare us any of that...anyway..."

sanji's red face from embarassmnet instead turned into one of annoyance, "shut your mouth and quit complaining! i'm not spoiling him - he deserves this! he didn't come and eat dinner with you guys, meaning there was more servings for you! be thankful to him! ... and don't call him a filthy bastard!! he's very clean and neat, unlike you guys!"

"ah, yes, lord and savior [name]!" usopp said, clapping his hands together as if he were praying to the man, "i wish he were here right now, though, to save us from sanji's fury, ughh," usopp sighed at the end of his sentence, making sanji's eyebrow quirk in annoyance.

"calling me a god, usopp?" your voice rang in the dining hall, making everyone's heads snap to you. "that's a pretty hefty title,"

"woah, that was just like that enel guy - you came when we summoned you! do you have ears all around sunny, [name]?" luffy asked, wonder in his eyes as he walked towards the door, "you should teach us that sometime!"

you smiled at your captain, allowing him to pass you with ease as he went to blow off his energy on the deck. chopper and usopp grinned at you as they followed after luffy, going to entertain each other. robin and nami walked past with kind smiles, the orange haired girl winking at you. franky pat you on the back, a thumbs up being thrown at you, only making you more confused about what you possibly missed.

brook was singing on his way out, something about young, forbidden love. you didn't see it, but sanji threw his head in his hands in embarassment. zoro was the last to leave, whispering to you to, "fix the idiot cook already, it's getting tiring dealing with his bullshit everyday," and then leaving you with no other explanation.

"what was up with all that," you rhetorically asked, chuckling underneath your breath and making sanji just shake his head in response. "sanji, did you forget to serve that to robin and nami? if you want, i can give it to them?"

sanji shot his hand out, catching your own that was reaching for the plate he was just preparing. realizing his actions, he immediately released you from his hold and shook his head, "no, no, it's...um...it's not for them."

the blonde cursed himself in his head, wishing he didn't become so blubbery in his words whenever he spoke to you. but he couldn't control it! not when you were looking at him so gently, so patiently. god, just thinking about you looking at him made him weak in the knees. because that meant you were just focusing on him. sure, you could be thinking of others things that weren't him (his heart literally shatters at that notion), but in the moment, you were physically turned to and only paying attention to him.

it made him almost sigh dreamily. his heart was already beating faster and his stomach was filled with butterflies.

"they're not?" you leaned over the counter, taking a seat as you did so.

"no, they're," he took in a deep breath, fists clenched at his sides, "they're for you,"

your eyes widened. and sanji internally cursed you for being so effortlessly handsome, while tilting your head in confusion, "but, sanji, i told you you don't need to prepa-"

"i wanted to," sanji cut you off, quickly apologized for doing so, before continuing, "i wanted to make your favorite, just to give you something to eat before bed,"

you smiled, and sanji internally cursed you again for being so sweet, and gently rubbed his arm, "thanks, sanji, you're so kind,"

he bit his lip in content, trying to hide his happiness as he simply nodded his head. there was no way his voice wouldn't shake if he spoke now.

wordlessly, you moved your hand off of his arm and picked up the spoon from the plate. humming in content once the food hit your tongue to let sanji know that his expertise did, in fact, not fail him.

"it's so delicious, sanji!" he was going to thank you, but was cut off when the spoon you had just used was shoved into his mouth. you were grinning at the surprised look on his face, "let's share!"

sanji got a nosebleed. because the gears in his head quickly turned. the spoon in his mouth, which you just used, meant that you two just...indirectly kissed.

his head flew backwards and blood was streaming down his nose. the last thing he saw before passing out was your worried face above his own.

— sanji often times thinks he looks like an idiot pining over you. he just feels so awkward. he cannot mess this up or else his life might seriously just cease having meaning. he's never felt so serious about someone before. it was always fleeting thoughts of how someone was attractive in his eyes. now, with you in front of him everyday, looking like an actual angel (or handsome devil, both are fitting, he thinks with an odd smile). he just can't help his thoughts from running wild. what if after your pirate adventures, the two of you settled down together? happy. near some shoreline, not a worry in the world. sanji just catches himself thinking of a future with you in it, despite the two of you not even dating or being remotely romantic towards one another...not yet, at least.

it was nighttime and the both of you were on night watch. you were scheduled to be in the crow's nest and sanji confidently took it upon himself to join you out of courtesy. in the crow's nest, you were looking out at the calm sea while sanji was just looking at you, admiring you.

"sanji," you called out, your eyes still trained on the sea, "you've been staring at me for the past 10 minutes,"

the man gulped nervously, wondering if this would be the moment. the moment he finally confessed to you. it's been long enough for him to be sure of his feelings (he was in love with you), this was the perfect setting - just the two of you, and it was all calm.

but what if you rejected him? then his heart would be laid out in front of you, you wouldn't reciprocate, and then you'd have to sail together for however long needed, knowing in the back of your mind. he would know you didn't like him back and you would know that he one-sidedly liked you.

it was too painful of a loss. that was the main reason why he hasn't ever thought about pursuing his confession to you.

"make it 11 minutes now," you chuckled, finally turning your head to him and examining his confused features, "what are you thinking about, sanji?"

you. he bit his tongue to prevent that single word from slipping past his lips.

"nothing," he said quickly, maybe too quickly.

out of nowhere, your hand went to the back of his neck and pulled him in close. he turned rigid at the action immediately, turning into a stiff statue as you stared right into his soul.

"why're you lying to me?" you asked quietly and sanji almost collapsed into your lap and began begging for forgiveness. you, obviously, weren't actually mad or annoyed at him for his little white lie, but sanji didn't want you thinking he lied so easily.

that wasn't a good quality to have as your boyfriend, your lover. so sanji quickly said, "i'm sorry," with a weak tone and looked right into your beautiful e/c eyes with nothing but sorrow.

you could so easily spur an immense amount of strong emotions from sanji. he felt like he was being played like a toy. but, also, he didn't mind. not if it was you. he didn't mind a lot of things if it was you.

"sanji, why do you treat me so differently?" you just saying his name made him feel like he wanted to just collapse on your lap and stay there. be nurtured by you.

"i don't mean to," he answered, "i really don't. i can stop, if it makes you uncomfortable, i'll stop,"

you shook your head and sanji felt some strands of your hair brush against his skin. goosebumps formed at those points. even the strands of your hair made him react so vicerally to you.

"no, that's not what i meant," finally, you released your hold on his neck and leaned back to create a more comfortable space between you two. unconsciously, sanji leaned in towards you. "i mean, have i done some amazing thing to you before? it kind of feels like you're making some thing up to me, like you're repaying a debt..." your voice trailed off awkwardly, "you don't have to act so doting to me, sanji, for whatever reason - especially if it's to repay a debt. i don't want you stressing about something silly like that,"

what? sanji was confused. you thought, this entire time, he was just being nice to you to make up for something. there's no way. he wondered how oblivious you had been ot his advances. have you been unaware this whole time? was he perhaps not acting as obvious as he thought he was?

that was slightly comforting to think about, if that was the case. but also a part of sanji felt as if he failed. he was pursuing you. behind all his blunders of stuttering words, unhealthily red faces - he wanted you to know that he was pursuing you. he wanted to hint at his feelings so you could hopefully pick up on them.

"that's not why i act the way i do," sanji carefully said, watching your reaction. and when your face twisted into confusion, he urged himself to take this chance to continue, "i wanted you to know...want you to know, i mean, that i really, really, really..." he took in a deep breath, offering a weak smile, "i really like you, [name], and i was too scared to tell you like i am now, so i was catering to you to hopefully make it obvious. well, i see how ambiguous that my actions are now and i wish i had done it different so i could properly have wooed you, but, it's too late for that. i wish i had done it more-"

he was cut off when you suddenly moved forward and pressed your lips to his. he melted into your touch immediately, his body reacting so naturally to yours. his eyes fluttered shut, intenally sighing in relief at how his confession did in fact work out in his favor.

and it took a lot out of him to move away from you, but he did need air to breathe, unfortunately. if only he could just breathe you in and live off of you alone.

he sighed, chest heaving as he really wrapped his head around what just happeneed.

"i know," you said softly, a smile on your handsome face that was literally captivating him, "i knew, i mean. just wanted to hear you say it,"

sanji blinked. were you...taunting him? no, teasing was the more appropiate word because you weren't hurting him with your words. but your mischevious grin and glint in your eyes did tell him that you were in fact teasing him.

"uhm, you knew?" he repeated, making you chuckle and pinch his cheek lovingly.

"i wanted you to confess to me," you clarified, leaning forward and playing with the strands of his blonde hair around your finger, "i though you'd sound cute confessing," you leaned in further, lips ghosting over his, "and you did,"

sanji's face was exploding a dangerous shade of red. god, this was so embrassing. but, your lips were on his again and he wiped away any self preservation and completely gave himself to you.

you pulled away quickly, speaking in breathy tones, "i like you a lot too, sanji," his heart skipped multiple beats, then started racing even faster when you gently pushed him down onto the cushioned sofa, "been wanting to kiss you like this since i joined the crew,"

sanji was going to pursue more answers, but your hands carding through his hair made him speechless.

"been wanting to kiss you all over like this for so long," you peppered short kisses all over his skin, making him feel like he was on fire.

"why didn't you?" he quietly asked, making you pull away and grin down at him.

at this point, he was completely laid out on the sofa, his legs spread and hugged around your waist as you leaned yourself over him. the hands on either side of his head felt like a cage that he definitely didn't mind being in. with you looking down at him from above, he wouldn't mind staying there forever.

"i liked imagining you confessing to me," you grinned, "plus, i wasn't sure if you were even into me. i heard from the others that you were exclusviely nice to the women of the ship, so i didn't want to bother pursuing you either."

so, you were basically saying that you and sanji could have been together even sooner if he had just showed more obviously to begin with that he was deeply enamored by you.

sanji was cursing his past self very colorfully right now.

"sorry for being so mean to you, though," a bashful apology was enough for sanji.

and he missed the feeling of your lips on his, so he leaned up to meet you halfway, but you stopped him, "do you forgive me?"

"yes, yes, i do," sanji breaths were hitched from how excited and happy he was.

you grinned at his reaction, feeling proud that you were the cause of it, "aren't you glad we waited, though?"

sanji almost shook his head no on instinct. if he could have had this sooner rather than later, he would've taken the former over the latter any day. you saw the way his head stuttered in place, unsure of the right answer. so you leaned down, right next to his ear and sent shivers down his spine by whispering, "cause this is gonna feel so much better now after such a long wait, right, sanji?"

[skymar13]

Helping 1A with the post war effects

:angst/comfort

Bakugo

When bakugo started to lose his hearing you thought it’d be ideal and give him some reassurance to learn sign to be able to freely communicate with him as well as help him interact with his classmates as well.

Izuku

Izuku had always had scars on his body but now they had almost tripled to the point his body was more scar than skin. When yall would cuddle you’d lightly touch his scars whispering how beautiful they were making him feel less insecure and grounded.

Denki

When Denki came back his brain was fried and he’d have random spells where he would just blank out. The rest of the class made jokes about it but when this happened you’d rub his back waiting for him to come back to reality and when he did he’d js look at you with sorrowful eyes.

Kirishima

Kirishima thought he was unbreakable but when he started falling apart during the war and was actually getting marked up he couldn’t help but feel useless. You stop by to change out his bandages and make him food since he refused to leave and for this he thanked you to no end

Mina

She had carefully manipulated her quirk all the time. Mina had never gotten chemical burns until the battle. Now she had to deal with painful light pink marks across her body. (I have vitiligo so I relate to the insecurity) she hated them thinking they were disgusting and she tried to hide them until you’d kiss each one carefully complementing their shapes and color.

Iida

His engines had blown and were terribly sore it hurt to walk. So you never let iida walk not even to fetch his water bottle that was across the room. You’d taken care of him u til he healed without a question and for this he was forever indebted.

Sero

His arms had been sore and he was all banged up from the falls he’d endured. Sero sat on the sink letting you change his bandages and lay kisses on them afterwards. He leant in to kiss you lips hissing in pain.

Ururaka

Poor had been vomiting all day. Ururaka couldn’t even stand straight without getting nauseous. And even if it was gross you held the bag or pulled her hair back and brought her water and liquid ivs or snacks to make sure she wouldn’t get sick.

Tsuyu

Her tongue had been sliced up to the Gods blood constantly spilling from her mouth. Every time you noticed tsu beginning to bleed you brought her hydrogen peroxide and cleaned her wounds.

Jirou

Her ears had been ringing all day none stop causing her so many head aches. Jirou had experienced too many loud sounds for way too long. The best way you could help was be her quiet you brought her noise canceling headphones and watched 1950s silent movies.

Todoroki

He’d had freezer burns and regular burns all over his body. Todoroki was constantly shaking from the pain he couldn’t touch anything before his nerves would flare up. You’d brought him some aloe Vera and Tylenol you wouldn’t touch him but you stayed with him and that’s all he could ask for.

Tokoyami

He had gotten pretty beaten up back there and shadow hadn’t helped. Tokoyami had barely any control over dark shadow to the point he stopped trying. Luckily you were able to patch him up and calm dark shadow with your words of love and treats.

Hitoshi

He had so many head aches from over use of his quirk. So you stayed in hitoshis dorm making it dark and quiet with just the tv playing as you let him nap with Tylenol on the bed side waiting for him.

Momo

She’d almost completely wrecked her whole body. Momo had felt weak for a while after barely being able to walk across her room without feeling dizzy and nauseated. You brought her some medicine and food and kept her entertained u til she felt better.

[dilf-docs]

Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights

old man!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: logan should've said no. should've just drove the pretty waitress home. that's his job. hers is to serve his cup of coffee to the brim. so why is he riding you to his house?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (cause we have a small daddy kink going on here.. hence the blog name BUT I DO HAVE A GOOD DAD), smut, this reeks of corruption kink for no reason other than me being a virgin whore, like he gets stalker-ish for a second but its logan howlett so we forgive him<3 ya está viejito, brief mention of suicide, sub logan edging on praising kink (if u squint), no protection but u gotta put the hat on the cowboy to ride the horse alr, riding, breeding kink??? angst (the depressing vibes are there cause they follow my writing like a shadow ijbol)

word count: 6,102 words (at the v crack of dawn.. i think i've gone insane FR it's 02:07 am and my brain its eating itself like im gonna start seeing logan in the corner of my room)

side note: newbie here after reading so many fanfics on tumblr but never publishing my own!! its hugh's birthday (well, its past midnight so no more but still!!! it was a couple hours ago) so i figured i should give it a try today cause that man does things to me ESPECIALLY as old man logan i can't lie and say the thought of him fucking me good and slow hasn't crossed my mind too many times 😩 we love sad hot old people in here so naturally my inaguration fic had to be done by him. also, i'm tired of scrapping for votes, comments, and interactions on wattpad so please treat me well during our first:// it's me moving to tumblr it's me hi i'm the problem it's me. i'm a feedback whore so pls leave tons of those!! also, english isn't my first language so if i make a grammar mistake pls do not tell me bc i have no respect for this language ―it just makes me cringe less to write smut on a language that isn't mine lol<3 but if there's any other mistake yes pls do tell me thank u OKAY BYE i needa quit yapping ENJOY dilf town<3

So it started something like this.

It was another simple nightshift for Logan. The weather humid, uncomfortably sticking the fabric of his white button shirt onto his skin. Even with the windows down. Those nights that the driving dragged on for long, like those cigarettes that now made him cough more than relax. The roads felt too long; his eyes too heavy.

Nothing new. Just about what to expect: money short, clients and traffic equally annoying. But that was the problem; nothing was new anymore.

He'd just finish dropping a customer close by, and since the tiring feeling didn't seem to leave his body just yet, a coffee wouldn't hurt. As a matter of fact, the need for a boost to make it home makes him get out of the car and limp his way into the first place his tired vision sees.

The rim of his recently adquired reading glasses slips as he climbs the stairs into the decades old diner, the decoration outdated. He understands; he feels the same way.

Neon lights flash his face when he enters the place and sits in the farthest booth he can find. The air is impregnated in grease and cheap coffee, but he waits at least fifty minutes to order, giving his body some time to rest. In the meanwhile, he tries to distract himself with the newspaper resting on the table, but God knows his eyes are too tired and his mind drifts every two words.

He hopes he doesn't get kicked out, judging from the attentive look he's receiving by a waitress resting on the bar. She looks as bored and tired as he does.

Maybe that's why he chooses her, raising his hand with order in mind. A black coffee. The waitress slides from her position and takes some steps to where he sits.

Her voice is sweet when she introduces herself, and Logan finds himself asking her again what her name is, pretending he's half deaf just to listen to it again.

"It's y/n" you repeat, oh so sickeningly sweet, he might have to skip on asking for sugar.

"Y/n" he savours the name on his lips, trying the tender sound, his eyes darting to the name tag, like he's confirming it. Testing to see if the young woman in front of him is real. Maybe his eyes linger a little too long, and the tip of your ears start to heat. Its the way he examines every feature on your face, like memorizing it in a sense, that makes you squirm. But maybe, just maybe, it's the small―brief, peak he gives to your exposed cleavage, pushing itself against the tight fabric of your uniform what truly gets your heart beating fast.

He looks like what your parents would warn you to stay away and your friends would talk behind your back. Rugged in a way that screams heartbreak, rough around edges your kind nature wishes to soften. It's unresonable to feel this way about a client you just met, but his aloof demeanor peaks your interest, so different from your usual costumers and familiar faces that pop up at the diner.

"Can I order you, darling?" his voice comes out deep, almost passing as a grunt. Just what you imagined it to sound. Why he's acting as his past self so effortlessly, after closing himself off to the point of going by entire days without talking more than three words, is concerning. Why the cute waitress who looks at him with doe eyes, expectant to take his order, is making him break the promise he made to himself not to get attached again―just live by enough to make it to the sea and put a bullet in his head.

"Well, that's just about my job" you joke, feeling confident for no reason. "But you can't order me".

"A damn shame" he chuckles, the sound deep, rumbling on his chest. It's been so long since he's laughed like that: carefree, without that pressing weight on his chest, that despite the sinking notion, sometimes feels more like a hole carved where his heart is supposed to be.

"So..." you trail off, unsure where to proceed after that sound that jolted your entire system awake, "what will you take?"

The banter dies, and Logan is dissapointed when she scribbles the dark coffee on her pretty round letter and walks away. He doesn't miss the sway of her hips, and almost calls her back just to hear her voice again. But he stops himself, because it's getting pathetic.

When she returns with her order, he almost regrets the comeback of his enhaced senses, her honeyed perfume mixed with the bitter smell of the freshly brewed coffee, creating an intoxicating mix.

His lips burn when he sips it, but that doesn't stop him from emptying the cup. Again. And again. All in the name for asking for more coffee, a magnetic force pulling him to the ground, making him forget he's a 200 and something year old man begging like a starved man for at least a fraction of her attention. He feels unworthy of your warmth.

He feigns interest on the newspaper when you return again (he's been stuck on the same paragraph ever since he sat down), the pot in your hands. If you've noticed he's emptied the cups faster than a normal person, you don't ask questions. He's thankful, but can see the amusement and confusion laced across your pretty face.

"More?" you ask, but it's unnecesary. He only nods, and you miss the chatter.

The closeness it's a challenge itself, the uniform's neckline practically shoved down his nose while she fills the cup to the brim. He hears his own heartbeat, the sound averting his attention from another "brief" glance at the cleavage. Is it intentional? Is your goodwill and act? Are you this cruel, playing with an old touch starved man like that?

God knows it's been long since he's had a helping hand during his relief hours.

He can't help it; he's a man, after all. So he seizes the moment and steals a glance. But his eyes meet yours, the wary green clashing with the cozy chocolate. There's warmth on your eyes, and he's looking at your tits like an animal. He pulls away, ashamed. The shirt feels a bit suffocating, and there's sweat on his forehead again. Great, you'll think he's a perv.

"Excuse me" you say, leaving his table. Logan is afraid of having fucked it up for thinking with this dick and not with his head. You were messing too much with his head, and now he'll pay the price. Fair, he thinks, for a perverted old man trying to woo a girl younger and far more innocent than him.

There's benevolance on her smile and blood on his hands.

The whole situation is stupid.

But then he's thinking of excuses (like saying it's his failing eyesight's fault) and something close to an apology, as if he cares a little too much about what you think. And then you come back.

"I forgot to bring you a napkin" she lies, leaving the piece of paper in the middle of the table. You laugh, and Logan let's you because 1. He deserves it, and 2. It's a sound as saccharine as the smell the freshly heated pies emit on the table across him.

You leave before he can even open his mouth, so all he's left with is the napkin that seems to have something written on it. Pervert, he reads, on the same calligraphy you scribbled on your bloc. He can't help but laugh, even with your watchful look on him.

That's how it continued.

Even if he had other rides and more energy to drive, he kept coming to the decaying diner just to see you. Almost as if he was forgetting his desperate need for the money, the boat goal further and further.

"You've forgotten about me" complained Charles, although his tone lacked of bite. "But I'm not mad that you've had".

He'd go on, rambling about living life but Logan just laughed. Yet, maybe he was right. Didn't even need his powers to know it.

Now, you? you simply couldn't get enough of your favorite costumer. Of his late stays until you closed, sometimes not muttering more than necessary, yet his company, even if curt, proved to be what you needed to make it through work, giving you a legitimate reason to yearn the before tedious night shifts.

Despite this two month weird relationship, Logan is as a stranger to you as he was the first day, no matter how many times you've tried to get him to talk. In the end, all your conversation efforts feel more of a monologue than a chat.

He knows about your mom and your dad, one strict the other dead. He knows most of your friends names, what you're studying and what you wanted to. Your dreams and your hopes, your aspirations, failures, and some other things you'd never say to anyone else out loud. All and nothing. And he listens, sometimes asking questions, but never about himself. He never takes the lead.

So frustration from the Logan enigma pours into you, the puzzle pieces layed out over your mind, consuming your thoughts. So now you're stubbornly cleaning the same grease spot on a table you've already wipped before, and that, coincidentally, it's the booth in front of Logan, the permanent resident of your head during these past weeks. You might as well make him start paying rent by now, his power and hold over you ridiculous.

"It's not going anywhere. Take it easy" he mocks you.

There's a bit of annoyance when you reply back, although it's mostly superficial. "Don't know what you're talking about" comes out your dry response, earning a low chuckle from him.

"How about you sit for a moment?" he offers, ignoring your apathy. "You're almost done cleaning up".

If his ever changing attitude isn't enough, closing this night's shift is as tiring.

Logan doesn't expect you to obey, but now you're sitting across from him, and a voice in his head says you maybe feel sorry for this lunatic old man.

You're so close, he can see the eye bags and sorrow you are far tired to try to hide.

"I have to finish cleaning" you explain, "we're about to close".

He doesn't know why he says it, or what takes over him when he says:

"I could wait for you"

He surprises himself and surprises you too.

"No need" you assure, and why does he feel so dissapointed. It's stupid. "My friend picks me up".

Ah, yes. The friend with the perfect stupid smile that picks you up every night. Not like he parks his car until you leave and sees the scene unfold each time, his white knuckle grip on the wheel a bit too much when the young boy opens up your door. Makes him see red, knowing he's your age and maybe the breathe of fresh air you need. Not a man far older, who bears too many sins and scars in and out.

"I see" he says after some minutes in silence, retracting his impulsiveness. "I'm sorry if I made you-"

"No!" you clarify hastily, "it doesn't bother me".

He smiles unconsciously in relief.

"Well, me neither. I insist. If you change your mind" he's practically begging, despite his monotone tone.

But you don't.

The place closes and Logan is forced to get in the car. He lights a cigarette, in no hurry to return home. The lighter lights up while the diner's light goes off. You and your boss come out, biding each other goodbye. She leaves and you're is left alone, hugging your body in the early morning cold. 

He sees you wearing particular clothes, for the first time. He takes a slow drag on his cigarette, eyes running up and down your bare legs, the fragile fabric of the skirt fluttering in the wind. He exhales, watching as you dials your phone several times, getting no response, obviously frustrated.

He mutters something under his breath, and maybe there is a God after all. He starts the car, approaching her, who has already noticed it, probably because of the noise of the engine.

She looks scared, but Logan rolls down the window so she can see it's him.

"Need'a ride?"

Just by his reverberant sound you could accept. But you try to play cool for a while, despite your aching bones and need to get home.

"He doesn't answer" he was right, "my friend".

I know, he wishes to say, but he's the same hot headed asshole who walked through the doors of the X mansion for the first time, so his tone will be laced with irony. He doesn't want you to see him as an intense hot blooded mouth.

I could take you. His head pounds but he shuts the emotions down.

He shoves the knot on his throat down and asks as casually as possible, "do you live close?"

"Just around the corner" you answer. A beat, your frame bending so he can see your face from the driver's sit, the cleavage saying hello again. How considerate of you. "Do you really want to do this?"

Do you really want to do this?

The question rings on his ears. It holds more than just the favor. Logan knows they have a certain tension between them that he no longer wants to ignore. For the first time it seems to be reciprocated; palpable, and he is surprised to hear his heart beating loudly, so accustomed to hearing others' with his sharp senses, constantly forgetting what his own sounds like. Yours also beats erratically, despite your calm composure.

You arch an eyebrow, amused. "I can't believe you waited for me. Your family must be worried."

Logan realizes you're trying to test waters. So he raises his hand discreetly and places it on the door, so you can see the lack of a ring. As expected, your eyes travel to his free finger, and he can swear he sees you breathe with relief, which is funny, because in case you hadn't picked up until now, Logan is very much fucking alone.

"In case you changed your mind," he answers. "I have nowhere else to be."

That is enough of an invitation for you to get in the car.

"I was going to open that door for you" he protests.

You only laugh as you buckle the seatbelt. "It's not that big of a deal, really. You've already done enough for me by doing me the favor".

"It's not that big of a deal" he repeats your words, "as long as I'm of help, that's enough for me".

He smiles wistfully, remembering better times. A part of him still aspires to be that hero everyone loved and remembered, something that clearly doesn't happen anymore (or if it does, it's rare), given the lack of recognition of his former identity in El Paso. He shakes his head, focusing back on the street in front of him. It's too late to get fucking sentimental.

"I like to help too…" you confess, meekly. Logan sighs, how could he not know? "My father used to say that I had the kindest heart he'd ever met. I hope it stays that way, and that when he looks down on me, he's proud".

It hurts Logan to see you be so hard on yourself, as if he didn't do the same.

"I bet all the customers in the place would say you're the sweetest thing they've met", he sees you smile from the corner of his eye, and can't help but emulate it. "Believe me, you're their favorite".

"Thank you, Logan" you say sincerely. However, the affliction that he hates to see crosses your face. So gloomy that you don't even seem the same person.

You wipe away an unexpected tear, but Howlett is faster and notices. You turn around, looking towards the window. Then, you catch a glimpse of his license.

"So… you're a driver" you try to break the silence that Logan has put without knowing why. Maybe to give you some space after being sentimental and opening up again to this closed off wall name Logan, but he knows it's a lie. He's scared. After wanting so much to be closer to you, he cowers, not trusting himself and what he would do trapped in a small space with such an attractive woman. Besides, the tension from the previous conversation was still there.

"You judging me now, honey?" the pet name rolls off his tongue before he catches it. He tries to play it cool, continuing the banter, carrying the same tone. "The only thing necessary to make you trust me was to give you a free ride?

"I'm in your car, Logan. I got in without thinking" you laugh. "I believe that's enough trust"

"Then, I'll keep doing you favors. Maybe if I do…" he trails off.

Your voice drops an octave, provocative. "Maybe what?"

His knuckles grip the steering wheel until they turn white.

"Maybe…" he hesitates, "maybe…"

"It's here" you point out. Shit, Logan curses, braking abruptly without meaning to.

"See you tomorrow" you bid as a goodbye, getting out of the car. Logan misses your smell.

So he sticks his head out the window, like a begging dog.

"How about now?" he says a bit forcefully.

Your face shows surprise and something else.

"You're getting attached" you reply, and he doesn't know why there seems to be sadness in your voice.

"I just keep coming back for the coffee" he defends himself.

You laugh, shaking your head "Now, then. For the coffee, clearly."

"I can leave" he says. Yet, makes no move to leave.

You sigh, giving him one last look. Surrender, he reads.

"You're a driver, right?" he nods, taking in every word coming of your pink plush lips. "Then let's drive off. Anywhere" your voice trails off, and you're just so tired of everything, you'll just let go yourself with the flow. "I'll go wherever you go..."

And this is how it ends.

When you wake up, it's almost dawn.

Logan had suggested you to sleep, claming the road where he was taking you to be long. He had covered you with his jacket, even if your body was burning from nerves.

Why had you agreed? Your mom would probably smack your head in search for some sense, and your reckless friends would encourage you to do it for the sake of a story. But something about Logan makes you feel safe, despite not knowing anything from him. It's sort of a sense of protection―like he would never hurt you, that envelops him. Everyone else would call you crazy; only you can understand that.

When your eyes adjust to the light, you realize you're in a line of cars.

"Did you bring me to the border?" you exclaim groggily, still in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning" he answers instead.

You rub yoou eyes, settling into the passenger seat.

"You're not going to kidnap me, right?" you question, half joking half serious.

Logan laughs, "Not only that. I'm also going to throw your body in a mass grave"

"It's not funny," you pout, although you're laughing too.

Once you've crossed the border, Logan drives a few more minutes, until he reaches a restricted area.

“I live here” he answers before you can ask, “saves rent and questions”

After opening the locks, you can better appreciate the place. Well, appreciate may not be the right word.

“It's an abandoned smelting plant” you voice out loud.

Logan just nods. You realize that he didn't like the comment, so you try not to talk about it anymore.

“Come” he gets out of the car, going to open your door. He offers you a hand, and you fail to hide your smile.

“You didn't miss this time, huh? Quite a gentleman” you praise. Then, add jokingly, “if you choose to kill me, at least I'll die taken care of".

“Stop talking nonsense and go inside” he scolds but smiles.

Inside, the abandoned plant is exactly what you expected.

"We're alone" Logan says, after leaving to check. He opens the door to his room, letting you in. There's not much inside, just a bed and scattered things. A yellowish light begins to filter through the broken glass. "I'mma change. Be right back".

You begin to explore your surroundings, to avoid thinking about the impact of the situation. Two things could happen: leave or stay. Maybe everything was going too fast, but you prided yourself on your spontaneity, often confused with impulsiveness. Others would say it was your naive nature: too innocent for your own good.

What had led you to accept without further ado? Was trust enough, that you had even fallen asleep in his car?

"S'rry for the wait"

You notice that Logan's gotten rid of his formal attire, leaving him in just slacks and an old white tank top. His muscles flex with every movement, making you swallow involuntarily. He still retains his extraordinary physique, despite his greying hair. She can't help but stare at the scars that cover his exposed skin, her fingers itching to trace them.

"Haven't they told ya' t's rude to stare?"

You look away, embarrassed. Logan walks over to the bed, bumping into you in the process, bodies barely touching. Still, an electric shock runs through you. You hug yourself, scared, aware of the effect he has on you.

"Logan" she dares to ask, "what are we doing?"

He finally looks at you. You feel naked under his intense gaze.

"What do you want us to do?"

His voice comes out low, like a growl. You stand in place stiff, unable to form a word.

"Come on, honey", the nickname comes out of his lips so easily, it hurts. "Are ya losing your voice now? Got into my car a while ago without thinkin', what's changed?"

You slowly approach Logan, each stride calculated. He watches you in silence, a silence as hostile as the wind hitting the broken windows, watching you remove your clothes, until all that's left is your bra and that skimpy skirt, as if you knew he liked it.

"Logan…" you whisper his name like a prayer, letting yourself fall on his legs. He holds you with his hard calloused fingers, like a promise.

"Use your words, sweet thing" the trepidation condenses between, "we're grown up now, aren't we? Use your words"

Don't let me fall. Don't let me go. Don't leave me.

If by words he meant feeling your lips against his, it's enough to have Logan following his impulses, using his strength to embrace your body until they feel like one, the scars on his hands feeling like your own. Your lips move in sync, and it's almost so casual, so learned, so meant to be, that fear appears in Logan, soon forgotten with the symphony of moans that come from your lips.

"Tell me" he pauses, breaking away from the kiss (something you don't like and express in the form of a pout), "what do you want?"

Logan tastes like cigars and whiskey, a combination you hate and the reason you quit your old job at the bar, but on his lips, it's an intoxicating taste.

"I want you, Logan" you whisper, hot breath against his skin, “you”.

He resumes the kiss, an electric shock of hunger and need between you: lips parted, colliding, teeth almost clashing against each other.

His fingers hesitate with a delicacy that belies his rough touch, the tips of his worn fingers lifting the fragile cloth of your skirt first, revealing soaking wet panties he goes crazy just at the sight of. The smell is sugary, sicklingly, so now he's hard and pulling at the clasp of your bra first, exposing your nipples, which he rolls and pinches mercilessly. A gasp escapes you—then another, and another as Logan pushes his thigh between your legs. The friction is delicious, almost painful against your pulsing center.

His hand firm up his position, securing itself onyour bare legs as you digs her nails into him. His labored moans turn into a guttural growl.

“You think I’m not capable?” he mocks, stealing another moan from her, “that I can’t keep up with you, you pretty young thing?”

You deny it, but Logan takes it upon himself to show you that he can take you like he's in heat, the ghost of his old self taking over in his almost animal way of fucking you, hips arched, muscles flexed and tense, his teeth appearing every time he opens his mouth, reminding you of fangs. They dig into your exposed skin, leaving bruises that will take time to disappear from your shoulders and neck, marking what belongs to him.

The hardness of his skin meets your soft when he grabs you by the waist.

"Look at you" it slips from his tongue, ecstatic. He's a goner, saliva dripping from the messy and sloppy kisses he leaves through your collarbone, "so good and so pure. I bet you're innocent, that you haven't seen what I've seen..."

His pupils darken, a strange mix between torment and desire in his gaze. Hungry and violent.

"Will you let me show you how's a real man s'ppossed to treat a woman?"

He feels shame settle in his belly, the hunger to possess her almost virgin body fueling his dark desire of errasing her sweet smile until she's an unintelligible mess of sobs. To show her what she would complain about, so she'll never slettle for less. So you can feel what it's to be taken care of―handled. And then he'll fill you up with his seed, so no other man will take what's his. His sweet little thing. Oh, he's so going to hell for this.

But maybe he likes pain.

"That's it, honey" he plays with the fabric of your wet panties, pulling at the loose threads in the delicate fabric. "Let me show you".

You take it off, and Logan lies back against the bed, spreading his legs and unbuttoning his belt and pants―a clear invitation to repeat the previous position, except this time, his hands are on top of your hips, squeezing the soft skin. He doesn't take his eyes off you, his gaze reserved only on you. If the adrenaline from before pushed you, now the confidence gained motions you to finish the task. It's just the push you need, remembering that this is what it feels like to be with a real man as you throw a leg over his hips, sitting your ass right on top of the bulge marked on his underwear.

“Right… there…” he barely manages to formulate a coherent train of words, the years of lack of help in attending to his needs leading to overstimulation, “good girl.”

The compliment makes you increase the pace of your hips, his labored breaths a sound so rich and so manly it makes you squirm.

You need it desperately, rubbing your increasingly wet clit against him, riding the fabric. His scruffy beard barely hides the smug smile that graces his lips.

“Like this?” she whispers, and Logan can no longer contain himself, staring at his sweaty, ripped body failing to please her completely. It feels so good it aches, and he can't believe this is how he's ended. But if that means having your pretty face on top of him, covered in his marks, dripping on your joint sweats, well maybe it isn't so bad.

“How can I repay you, honey?” he pleads. He'll try he's best. He just wants to give you a glimpse of the way his whole world has light up ever since he stumbled in that greasy diner.

“You said you were going to show me” it comes out almost as a purr, expectant, “and I’m waiting”.

Logan takes it as his cue, pulling down his underwear until his member is exposed, chuckling darkly when you swallow at the sight.

"Don't tell me you're scared already" he teases, "look how you have me… you can't leave me like this…"

You stifle a scream as you feel every inch of his thick cock enter your sensible walls, trying to fit his member inside of your needy body.

"So tight for me" he stammers, using his hands to keep you in place, on top of him. The only sound in the silence of that place that smells of death is that of their skin colliding―vulgar, the obscenity highlighted by being the only thing that can be heard in the small room.

Even though his stamina has dropped over the years, he thrusts into you relentlessly. Logan fucks you senseless, his balls buried deep in your dripping pussy, a constant rhythm of avid suction with each entry to your walls.

He takes a moment to see you as you take something from the nighstand he doesn't remember putting there.

"Look what I found" you whisper in the middle of your moans. Logan recognizes the shine of metal in front of his eyes, "so Wolverine?"

You say it so easily, like it's not the first time. With acceptance; it scares him.

Do you recognize him? Are you not scared? Why haven't your eyes go from curiosity and kindness to cold and rejection?

He should panic, rip off his dog tags from your hands and pretend he doesn't know who he used to be, but he's so deep inside you and so enraptured, he can only manage to gently take them from between your fingers and put them around your neck, the cold metal against your warm, bare skin creating an electric shock.

"I want to see them on you"

He likes to watch it hang over his face while you're on top, panting heavily as she repeats his name, slurring her words. It dangles with every thrust, the silver glistens in the seeping sun, just like the sweat that adorns her skin.

"Are you that needy of your old man? " he teases, caressing her. He smacks the curve of his ass, “You want more?”

His veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, more moans escaping your lips.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at the pain that begins to increase. “Yes, Logan. Just like that. Nobody ever treated me like that, nobody's made me feel like this-”

He moans, pleased with the praise, seeing he isn't as lacking as he thought. Making you feel good is his priority, but he won't lie and say he doesn't want to feel it too.

In an attempt to distract yourself, your eyes try to focus on him: searching his features, memorizing every scar, every wrinkle, every little grey hair.

“You’re perfect, Logan,” you mumble through a moan, the confession hiding more than you want to say and more than he cares to admit.

Before he can process it though, the fire in his stomach signals the arrival of his impending orgasm.

There's something delightful about the way you can barely speak, a mess of moans that sound like his name, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen alongside your messy hair.

He feels almost sick to be consuming something that doesn't and shouldn't belong to him. He doesn't deserve to have such a beautiful, young woman riding him while she clings to him like he's the last thing in this world, him: a worn, old man who can't keep up with her.

His member spasms, and it's got you feeling it all inside your walls, causing him to close his eyes in the process as well.

It's too soon, Logan thinks in shame, but it's been so long and you feels so good, he let's it go:

Thick whips of his cum shoot out of his member, drawing out more than you would've imagined. You don't have much time to think about it, for the orgasm hits you immediately, fingers curling and eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

Logan feels his tip getting wetter, and the extra lubrication is a nice finishing touch.

“God,” he gasps, “what a mess…”

You avoid looking at him, taking one of his hands in yours, kissing the red and violet painted knuckles. If you do, you'll give away what you feel, the same way her memory burns in Logan's chest, more now than ever, as his mouth tastes just like you.

Dependency.

Devotion. Absolute. Sick.

Maybe that was what he felt. This weird feeling. That abyss piercing his chest but never killing him (so much for regenerating...), pressing his heart with a crushing force whenever it threathened to beat again. Logan was content with rather nothing, always a man who didn't ask for much, and since the death of his family―the X-men, less.

"You should go" he mutters in defeat, the shame washing over. Even if he'll miss your warmth, even if he doesn't want you to leave at all. "It's for your own good, y/n. Pretend you don't know me and turn around. Go away" he insists yet gets stuck on his words, "you're not stupid. Then you'll know it's good for you and you'll never speak to me again"

He looks at the ground, cowardly, because he wants your lust filled warm look to be the last memory he remembers. Not whatever look you're giving him now.

So Logan closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he opens them, you'll be gone. It'll be a dream, something too good to be true. Short lived, like every good thing in his life.

"Logan..." you calls his name. So softly it seems like a breath.

You're still here.

"Logan" you call again, more firmly.

"Logan" you don't give up, cupping with one hand his face gently, "look at me".

When he looks up, he comes across a heartbreaking vision. You cry, tears falling like waterfalls down your cheeks. But that's not the most devastating thing, no: it's the look in your eyes, as if you've shared his pain. As if you've had suffered the same things he had suffered; a twisted reflection of him.

"Of course I understand you" you take his hands, and Logan feels that same strange warmth he felt the first time when your hands brushed his with the diner's menu. "I've also lost people… people I loved. Don't you think it hurts me to see the world go on as if nothing happened? Everyone forgets, Logan. But I can't; there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about them"

For a moment, you stop crying, and the hidden internal turmoil he tried so hard to decipher finally makes sense.

"I don't know what you've been through either, but I can promise you, that I understand you more than you think…" it seems like you'll say something else, but you stop and say instead. "Think, Lo: would these people want to see you like this?"

"It's what I deserve" he murmurs barely, his voice constipated but without shedding a single tear.

"It's not what we want, Logan. Please" you sniff, pained "stop being so hard on yourself".

"I'm not who you think I am" he insists. You're still naked on his bed, and he feels dirty for having you like this. For taking you to his home and fucking you raw out of your innocence. "I'm not a good person."

"No, Logan" you seem hurt by that statement. You trace one of his most recent scars with a touch so compassionate, that he feels your fingertips burn, "you are a hero".

Your words were so sweet, so comforting. He wanted to sink into your lap, which smelled like flowers and tasted like safety. A home; a life that had been taken from him. He wanted to believe everything you said―feel who you believed he was. Not this pathetic, tired and apathetic version of himself, but the old version: the version that inspired respect, that despite his tough exterior, had a family he loved. Because he had a heart. Now he feels like he has no soul: no purpose, nothing.

But maybe you are the answer.

Before he can change his mind, you blurt out “can I stay?”

That morning, in that old bed that creaks under his weight, Logan discovers that feeling alive again isn't so bad.

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: This was actually requested on my discord, by my beloved 🌸 anon. I sure had fun writing this, from an ace to another, I hope u enjoy this (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, sexuality talk, coming out (as asexual), gn!reader

Vil watched you pace nervously, his eyes following your every movement. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice he had been speaking to you mere moments ago, his questions and jokes promptly ignored by you.

'What had happened? Had someone upset you? Were you troubled and in need of help?' He thought so many things, his heart beating faster with each negative thought crossing his mind.

Finally, after what seemed like years, you sat down on the edge of the bed, your heart pounding as you stared at your hands. The room was bathed in the soft, fading light of the evening, shadows dancing on the walls as the last rays of the sun slipped through the curtains. Vil could sense the tension in you, the way you seemed to be rehearsing your words, overthinking every syllable - you were like a newbie at acting, trying to conceal your face behind a mask, yet you didn't realize that he could see you behind your mask.

He knew he could ease your worries, he could make everything better with just a few words and snaps of his fingers. You were his most cherished person, and of course, he wanted to take care of you, to see your beauty shine alongside his, to nourish you into a better version of yourself. But first, you needed to open up to him. It pained him to see you so distant, trapped in your own world - fearing.

He could recognize the signs; the way you bit your nails, the shallow breaths, how you looked at him as if you had committed the worst crime possible, which was funny considering that he had done far worser than you ever could. Well, not that you know about all the things he did.

You glanced up at him through your eyelashes, your gaze shy and uncertain. His presence was both a comfort and a source of intimidation, though you weren’t sure why. Vil noticed this, and with a subtle shift in his posture, he softened his expression, hoping you would see him as someone to confide in rather than fear.

"Mein Liebling," Vil spoke gently, breaking the silence, nickname making you shudder visibly. He needed to be the first to reach out, to show you that he was there for you, ready to listen and understand. He took your hand in his, his touch gentle as he guided your chin up so you would meet his eyes. "You've been so quiet and distant today. What’s on your mind?"

It was a simple question but it carried the weight of his concern. You bit your lower lip, leaning into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder as you searched for the right words.

"There’s something I need to tell you," You finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vil’s gaze softened further, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. "Of course, darling. You can tell me anything."

It's now or never, You thought. Now or never!

Your fingers twisted nervously in the hem of your shirt as you took a deep breath. "I’m… asexual. It means I don’t experience sexual attraction, or at least not in the way most people do. I, uh, wanted to tell you this since we're... Interested in each other? In love? I don't know how to call it to be honest."

He couldn’t stand the thought that you might have feared coming to him, that you worried about his judgment. Vil tightened his hold on your hands, his touch warm and reassuring, as he let a soft chuckle leave his beautiful lips.

You close your eyes, afraid to face the expression that adorned your his face. Silence filled the room for a moment, the seconds stretched on, each one feeling longer than the last, your heart beating loudly in your chest. But Vil's relief was almost palpable as he realized that nobody harmed you. You were just afraid - afraid of his reaction, which he hated because he could never judge you or other aces for that matter.

"Thank you for sharing this with me," Vil said, his voice gentle and sincere. "I can see how much this means to you, and how scared you are."

A wave of relief washed over you, though a small knot of anxiety still remained. "I was afraid you might not understand or that it would change things between us."

Vil’s lips curved into a soft smile, though he felt a twinge of hurt that you’d ever doubt him. "My feelings for you aren’t based on physical attraction. What matters to me is your heart, your mind, and the incredible person you are. If anything, I admire you even more for your courage in telling me this."

Your eyes filled with tears and you leaned into Vil’s embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart against your cheek sounding as comforting as a lullaby. "Thank you, Vil. You don’t know how much that means to me."

"Thank you, Vil," You whispered, a sense of peace settling over you. "I like you... I like you a lot."

Vil stroked your hair, his touch tender and comforting. "We’ll navigate this together. Your sexuality is a part of who you are, and I love you for all of it. Always remember that."

You looked up at Vil, meeting his gaze. In that moment, you realized how profound the bond you two had that could transcend even words or physicality.

"I like you too," Vil replied, his voice filled with warmth. "Just as you are."

[churipu]

HAIIII IPIN !!!!!!! can i request gojo, geto, and nanami (separate) having a gf that's really optimistic? just someone who sees the good in everything and anything, and positive at all times! thank SOOOO much !!!!

JJK MEN + OPTIMISTIC GIRLFRIEND

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento x fem! reader

warning. people being mean to u >:(

note. HAIIII ANONN!!! i love this request bcs sometimes i read books, mangas, watch movies, you name 'em and see a certain character having the most positive mindset and i just go must protecc >:( anyways, thank you anon for requesting just after i opened the request box, istg i love all your ideas so much it makes me feel full <;33

GOJO SATORU. absolutely hates the way you try to see the good in people — specifically people who have hurt your feelings in the past. he just wonders what goes on in your mind to just forgive and forget everyone who has wronged you.

you did. but not him.

"baby, that guy called you names when you were in high school!" gojo whines, laying down on the bed, draping an arm over your torso, "why are you still willing to meet him?"

"satoru, he said he was sorry!" you smiled at him, tracing his features softly — the male grumbled but leaned into your touch, "and plus it's not nice to hold grudges, it's been what? how many years?"

a loud whine escapes his throat as he pulled you close, "it doesn't matter how many years it has been, he still hurt your feelings. and nobody does that to my baby," he said, miffed.

you couldn't help but to chuckle, "well, you are coming along, so i have nothing to worry about."

the male grins, "damn right i am coming, he better sleep with one eye open starting from now," gojo threatens.

gojo just cannot wrap his head around your concept of "forgive-and-forget" because you never hold grudges, you forget everything and still talk to people who've wronged you, and you still have the heart to accept them.

as much as people say "forgive and forget", they end up at least holding the tiniest bit of grudge — or even a bigger grudge, right? but you? you don't. you actually forgive and forget.

well — thankfully, not him. he takes his job to protect you seriously, from any kind of harm, including monsters (people who were mean to you) both in the past, present, and possibly the future.

"baby, can you stop hanging out with that one girl? the one who always wears the purple colored eye-shadow?" he asks you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"hm? why?"

"i don't like the vibe she gives out. it's giving...well...cruella de vil." he murmurs into your neck, nuzzling his nose in content as you went on with your skincare routine.

"satoru," you mumbled, "you can't just judge her by her vibes."

he groans, "but baby, i swear i could just feel it! she's evil," he whispers in your ear.

"satoru."

"okay, fine. just tell me if she does anything to you, i'll give her a piece of my mind (hollow purple)." he mutters out, pouting and upset as you brushed his speculations off.

GETO SUGURU. he loves it and hates it at the same time. geto loves how positive you are against the world — and what more does he need, really? it's you and him against the world at this point, although he feels like he doesn't contribute much to your positive energy (that's what he thinks).

geto thinks of himself as a pretty negative person. and you know. the both of you had a lot of deep talks about everything, including what you both had in mind. and honestly, geto wasn't surprised if he hears you talking about how your life was going smoothly; and his was just a contradiction to what you have.

it's life, people come and go. but geto seemed skeptical of that term, why couldn't people come and stay? he finds it hard to believe that you could be the one leaving him at anytime of the day, and the thought just terrifies the male.

the death of amanai put a hole in his mind that couldn't be closed off, and it fucking scarred him. but you were there for him, you didn't sugar coat words or tell him white lies — you tell him everything, straight to his face, and your choices of words made him feel loved. what else could he ask for?

"'m sorry," he mutters into your shoulder, and his voice comes out a bit muffled.

you brushed his nape gently, "it's alright sugu, you know you don't have to apologize for being sad, right?" you tell him, pressing a kiss onto the side of his head, "it's okay to be a little sad."

sometimes he asks himself if he really deserved you or not. but at the end of the day; you always convince him that he deserved it.

geto hates your optimism sometimes because he watches people trample over you and you brush them off with a smile, it makes him feel angry. he asks himself why you were doing this to yourself? believe me when he tried asking you to try talking back, or putting up a fight.

"angel, you know it makes me kind of sad that you'd let people talk to you that way," he said to you, grazing his finger over your cheek gently.

you shot him a gentle smile, "'ts okay sugu, what good do i get from arguing back to them, really?"

he just pulls you into his embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, saying nothing. god, he just wanted to protect you from the world — why does everyone have to be so fucking mean to you?

"will you be mad if i tell them off for you?" he asks

"depends on your methods, tell me about it."

"threatening them. if it doesn't work, violence." he mutters out briefly.

"sugu, no."

NANAMI KENTO. he doesn't mind it, he finds you endearing, really. a cat getting hurt? he'll accompany you to the vet with it. or a child crying because of a fall? he'll watch you help them without any single thoughts behind.

he just loves how selfless you are. nanami once read a quote, "when given the choice between being right or being kind, choose kind." and every time he sees a selfless act from you — he just kinds of chanted it in his mind, and tell you what, nanami is such a proud boyfriend.

nanami loves how you see the good in everything, a person spilled their food on you? you tell them mistakes happen. a person bumping into you and then blaming you for it? you tell them you're sorry and thought that maybe they just had a really bad day.

but sometimes he couldn't help but to worry over you — someone so positive, bubbly, and optimistic around people who (probably) have disgusting minds. when he's not around to keep an eye on you, he just worries that someone might took advantage of your kindness and throw it out the window.

and he wouldn't be there to stop it from happening.

"ken, i'm going to go out for a hang out. it's fine, i've got my friends with me!" god, the jitters that he gets whenever you mention your friends — he was never really fond of the friends you have now, especially since they were trying hard to earn his attention. he knows they were just using you.

the texts they sent to him behind your back, the shit-talking about you, and everything else. god, he wanted to tell you about it; but he just didn't have the heart to, because he knows it will break your heart.

although nanami told them off quite rudely, defending you — it baffled him to how they still try to hang out with you with no shame after. and he tried telling you about how he doesn't like them, but you tell him it was fine.

"may i come along then?" just the thought of leaving you alone with those people pisses him off to the core, if he can't stop you from being friends with them — he will be with you.

when you agreed, he made it his job to expose them as nicely as he could. and he succeeded, oh the ecstasy he felt when you finally told them you didn't feel like hanging out with them anymore.

(and he ended up showing you the texts).

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[dreamywriter143]

hey! could u do a neyetam sully x reader where shes kinda shy and she wants to show him something and she leads him to her palulukan or thanator which is her friend

Special

Paring: Neteyam x Reader

Genre: FLUFF, Teeny Tiny Angst, Jealously, CuteNeteyam, ShyReader, Missunderstandings.

Summary: Y/n, Kiri’s best friend is very soften spoken and shy. She caught Neteyam’s eye upon first contact. He starts to worry as he notices her lack of presence recently. And he’ll do whatever he can to figure out why.

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: Hi Anon! Thank you for your request!! I had a lot of fun with this one, I added a TINY bit of jealousy/Angst because the idea of Neteyam getting jealous over a Palulukan is adorable! I hope I did your request justice! Enjoy ❤️❤️

__________________________________________

Neteyam felt worry settle deep within his stomach as his eyes jump from Na’vi to Na’vi during the communal dinner. He desperately searched for a specific female amongst the crowd, only to come up empty. He couldn’t figure out where she was, the girl in question who had been occupying his thoughts regularly as of late.

“Neteyam?” Kiri calls for her brothers attention, carefully taking a bite of her fruit.

She watched her brothers tail twitch stiffly. As if he was on alert. His eyes roamed around the crowd before him, squinting as if to zoom into the crowd. His ears twitch to the sound of her voice as he reluctantly turns to face her, his bowl of fruit left untouched within his grasp.

“Yes?” He says, his voice sounding strained.

“What’s got your tail in a twist? Everything ok?” Kiri asks, chuckling at her brothers tensed up state. Neteyam pouts at her teasing tone, letting out a sigh he had been holding in.

“Have you…..seen Y/n?” Neteyam asks carefully, his words come out slowly as if he was afraid to admit what’s been bothering him for the first half of the dinner. Kiri stifles a laugh, passing it off as a cough.

Y/n was Kiri’s best friend, Kiri’s only friend as many Na’vi children around their age were weary of her. It made it difficult for children to approach her due to her interest in the nature around her, which made her to be an odd Na’vi. But not to Y/n. They both shared a love of nature together, searching out herbs and interacting with the creatures around them in pure awe. They met coincidentally many years ago and have been inseparable ever since.

Normally Neteyam never had the time to focus on his siblings friends. He was too busy with his training and shadowing his father that he didn’t quite know what his siblings did on their feee time. Unless they did something that caused trouble. But other then that, he didn’t know or care of any other friends they had.

Until he met Y/n.

About a year ago when Neteyam had come home early from his solo hunt, he came home to a surprise. A female Na’vi he didn’t recognize, braiding his sisters hair. Even though she was doing the most mundane activity at the moment , she looking so beautiful she literally took his breath away upon eye contact. It didn’t take long for Neteyam to linger around Kiri often, always in hopes of seeing Y/n again.

Y/n was shy and very soft spoken. She rarely met Neteyam’s glances, always opting to look at the uninteresting soil below. The only time he really got to admire her up close was at the communal gatherings. Where she would always sit next to Kiri as they shared a meal. It was at those moments Neteyam’s heart felt full. He was close enough to talk to her, see her smile and hear her laugh. He always looked forward to any event or dinners cause of this.

But for the past week, she hasn’t been showing up as often. She either missed breakfasts, or dinners. It was on and off but she missed enough of them that made Neteyam feel restless. He counted down the days he had without her presence, and it pained him not knowing why she would disappear like that. He rarely had time to spend with his family and his friends outside of his duties. The only leisure time he had were these moments. Where he always felt happy, But now, he was anything but happy.

“Missing her already?” Kiri jokes making Neteyam frown at her teasing.

“I’m being serious Kiri. She’s missed many meals, I’m worried for her…..she’s your friend, why aren’t you worried?” Neteyam questions suspiciously. He immediately catches the way Kiri’s face twitch at his words. A look crossing her face. If his eyes weren’t trained onto her face he would have missed it entirely. She knew something, something she didn’t want him to know.

“O-oh, I don’t know. Maybe she’s feeling a bit unwell? I’ll check up with her later. You focus on eating. Don’t you have a hunt tomorrow?” Kiri desperately evades the topic. Neteyam clenched his teeth. He opens his mouth to question her, ready to grill her for answers but is cut off when Lo’ak sits in between them. Kiri let’s out a sigh of relief as if Lo’ak had saved her from confrontation.

“Guess what I just heard!! Oa’kae is planning on courting someone!” Lo’ak says excitedly, eager to gossip about what he heard from his friends.

~~~~~~~~~

Neteyam groans in anger as he paces around in the family tent. He had come back from the hunt a good while ago. Thankfully the hunt well perfectly fine, no casualties and they had hunted a lot. But Neteyam couldn’t shake the thoughts that had him on edge since last night.

Which is why he waited for Kiri in the family tent. He was ready to pry the answers he knew she had. But she didn’t show, it was as if she knew Neteyam would be waiting for her. Neteyam’s ears twitch hearing footsteps come towards the tent.

His frown deepens when Lo’ak peers in. His eyes stare at Neteyam in question as he glances around.

“What’s wrong? You look angry and I haven’t done anything yet” Lo’ak points out, stepping into the tent. Neteyam huffs out, his shoulders still tensed.

“Where is Kiri?” Neteyam asks, ignoring his question. Lo’ak smirks at his words. Something about Kiri getting in trouble amuses him. He didn’t like being on the receiving end of his fathers or Neteyam’s glares. According to him it’s nice to see someone else get in trouble for a change.

“She is near the Tsahik’s tent” Lo’ak replies eagerly. Waiting for Neteyam to explain why he was looking for her, wanting to know what she had done.

“Is she in trouble? What did she do?”

“She isn’t in trouble. I needed to ask her something” Neteyam sighs out, his fingers pinching his nose in thought.

“Oh I don’t know, she seemed busy. She was talking to Y/-“

Neteyam runs out of the tent before Lo’ak gets to finish his sentence. His legs carry him towards the Tsahik’s tent praying that he didn’t miss her. That he would make it in time to catch the one girl he had been going crazy over the past few days.

Just as Neteyam rounds the corner he comes to an abrupt stop hearing hushed voices. His ears twitch recognizing Y/n’s quiet sweet voice. He tip toes closer so he can hear what was being said.

“Y/n! You have to be more careful. Neteyam was there today. You could have gotten caught!” Kiri hisses. Neteyam frowns at her words.

“I know, I’m sorry Kiri. I just had to make sure he was ok. You know how Rik’ean gets when I’m not there” Y/n replies back. Neteyam’s ears pin down, his heart rate quickening.

Thousands of questions flood his system.

‘Who is Rik’ean…..why was she with him this morning?’

Neteyam felt sick to his stomach. What if it was a potential mate? What if she was already promised and he lost his chance before he could actually take a proper shot?

“It’s fine, just be careful” Kiri reminds her, huffing in relief . Y/n giggles at her friends panicked state. Normally Neteyam’s heart would sore at the beautiful sound of her laughs, but now it felt like a stab to his heart.

“Oh! Guess what!” Y/n adds before the girls part ways. There is a pause before she continues

“Today, he gave me so many kisses!! It was so cute Kiri!!” Y/n squeals in delight.

Neteyam hand juts out, his hand holding himself up against the branch beside him. His breathing came out in gasps as remembers what he heard.

‘He kissed her, and she liked it?’

Neteyam figured he had heard enough. Not wanting to hear his sisters response as he runs away from the tent. Angry tears sting at his eyes as he tried to clear his head.

Kiri makes a face at Y/n’s words.

“Y/n…..we’re talking about a Palulukan here. You sure he just didn’t want to eat your face? What was meant as bite, you misinterpreted it as a kiss?”

Y/n huffs out in annoyance. “No Kiri, he is truly grateful. Trust me!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Neteyam blankly stared down at his food, he couldn’t seem to find it within himself to eat anything. He felt utterly heart broken.

“Are you gonna eat that, bro?” Lo’ak asks, pointing at the juicy piece of meat in his bowl. Neteyam shakes his head as Lo’ak grabs for the piece, guzzling it down with a satisfied hum.

Neteyam glances at Kiri, who was focused on her own food. He didn’t know why but he felt the deep urge to question her on what he had heard today. But chose against it. What else did he need to know? He heard everything he needed to hear, and that’s that.

Neteyam sees something move swiftly within the crowd form his peripheral vision. He snaps his head to that direction seeing Y/n rush out , towards the forest. A new feeling surging throughout his body as he shoves his bowl into Lo’ak’s hands. He stands up ignoring his siblings calls before blindly rushing to where he had seen her disappear.

As Neteyam expertly weaved his way through the trees he sees Y/n’s retreating figure. Speeding up he placed his hand on her shoulder causing her to let out a surprised gasp.

“Y/n” Neteyam calls, catching his breath.

Y/n carefully turns around. He notices how she looked scared, holding a tiny woven bag in her hands. She also looked…beautiful. Her top that matches her loincloth was beautify woven with blue beads, Neteyam’s favourite colour. It was it if it called to him. But he knew, it wasn’t for him.

Neteyam feels his throat close up. He didn’t know why he got up and ran after her. Why he came all this way knowing what he already knew. He gulps back before pulling his hand away from her shoulder.

“You’re going to him” he states causing Y/n’s eyes to widen in fear.

“H-how?” Y/n stutters out, her voice low. Her eyes wonder around his face aimlessly, noticing the anger that radiates off him.

“I overheard you this morning….” Neteyam confesses. He didn’t even feel ashamed, just heartbroken.

“N-net-“

“Y/n, I love you” Neteyam blurts out. The words that stayed locked within his heart bubbling up in a last ditch effort. Y/n blinks rapidly, trying to process what she was hearing.

“I’ve loved you for so long. I kept my distance because of how shy you are. I didn’t want to scare you off. I swear to Eywa, you’ve stolen my heart the moment I saw you”

Y/n’s face turns purple with embarrassment. She has to pinch herself to know she wasn’t dreaming.

“I don’t know how long you’ve been seeing him, and what you’ve done. But none of that matters-“

“W-wait, I think you-“

“-what matters is that my feelings for you will never chang-“

“N-Neteyam-m”

“I will love you forever. I’ll cherish you forever. I swear. Just give me a chan-“

“Neteyam!!!!” Y/n calls loudly, effectively stopping Neteyam’s plea. He pouts at her tone, she had never raised her voice against her before. This was new.

“Neteyam. You’ve got it all wrong…” Y/n says softly. She bites her lips, her eyes searching Neteyam’s to confirm what he said was the truth. Feeling like she had no other choice Y/n sighs out.

“I want to show you something, come with me.”

~~~~~~~~~

“What are we waiting for?” Neteyam asks, his eyes searching around them. He had let Y/n pull him deeper and deeper into the forest. They stopped in front of a rather large tree, waiting for the past few minutes.

“Neteyam, I need you to keep an open mind. And stay calm. Think you can do that?” Y/n asks taking him off guard. This is the most Y/n had spoken to him with eye contact. She usually keeps her head low whenever she speaks to him.

Neteyam smiles at the new change. Now he was able to admire her smile while he listened to her melodic voice.

“I can do that. Why?” There is a pregnant pause as Y/n swallows thickly.

“You’ll see”

Y/n faces the tree letting out a tiny call. It held similarity to the call she used to call her Ikran, but different at the same time. Neteyam hears rustling come from the bush up ahead as his body rises wth goosebumps. His hand reaches for where his knife would be at, coming up empty.

‘Shit, I don’t have a weapon?’

Neteyam was so immersed in Y/n he had forgotten that they were deep in the forest, at night. With no protection.

“Y/n, I don’t th-“ the words die in his mouth as Neteyam sees something walk out of the bushes. It was large, it’s green eyes scanning both Y/n and Neteyam. It’s paws step onto the soil with a thump under its heavy weight.

Instinctively Neteyam pulls Y/n behind her, his heart racing a mile per minute.

“Shit!!!”

It was a Palulukan.

Y/n tries to step back to where she stood but Neteyam wouldn’t allow her.

“Y/n listen carefully. I need you to make a run for it” he says lowly. He is confused why the creature hasn’t attacked already . But he didn’t want to take this moment to wonder why, when he could use this moment to ensure Y/n got out of there safely.

“No, Neteyam. Be calm, this is Rik’ean”

Neteyam’s ears twitch to the sound of the fimiliar name, the name that has been haunting him all day. Neteyam steps aside, his eyes blown wide in fear and surprise.

“W-what?”

Y/n sighs out, stepping towards the creature. Rik’ean cooes as she comes near, bringing the bag towards him. She empties the contents onto the floor, as Rik’ean purrs excitedly at the meat in front of him. She caresses the creatures head as he closes his eyes at the warm touch.

Y/n stands up and turns to Neteyam. Her hand still petting the Palulukan lovingly.

“This is Rik’ean” she announces. Neteyam closes his mouth, which had been hanging through out the entire interaction.

“This is Rik’ean?” Neteyam confirms, pointing a shaken finger towards the Palulukan. Y/n nods before letting go of Rik’ean who immediately begins to swallow down the meat.

“How!!?” Neteyam questions stepping closer. He stays weary of the creature, but seeing how comfortable Y/n was, he felt himself relax.

“A couple of weeks ago I found him injured. I took care of him and nursed him back to health. He disappeared right afterwards so I thought I’d never see him again” Y/n explains. She glances at the creature before turning to Neteyam, who stood a head taller than her.

“But out of bad luck, Kiri and I ran into some nantang’s. We would have gotten hurt, or worse. But Rik’ean saved us that day. He recognized me…..he’s my friend” Y/n says, peering up at Neteyam. The entire time his eyes filled with awe and adoration.

“Please don’t tell anyone, I don’t want anyone to know…” Y/n pleads, in fear of what the clan would think. What Neteyam would think. The expression his face proved he was ok with it, he didn’t look scared or freaked out. Neteyam nods in understanding.

“I won’t, I promise” he assures glancing at the creature. He had long finished his meal, now opting to watch them quietly. His peculiar green eyes watching Neteyam.

“So….what do you think?” Y/n whispers. Half in fear, half in question. Neteyam chuckles , stepping closer to her.

“I think your wonderful….I mean, befriending a Palulukan? That’s an amazing feat! You know my mother was Palulukan Makto. She was fierce in battle and a Palulukan recognized her” Neteyam beamed, his eyes filled with adoration as he refuses to break eyes contact with her.

“You’ve befriended one, out of your kindness. You’ve been recognized…..you are special Y/n” Neteyam whispers, unknowingly leaning closer. His breath fans against her lips enticingly. Y/n smiles wide, her heart soaring at his words.

“And to think you were jealous of him” Y/n teases. Her breath proving how close they were to one another. Neteyam hums in defeat. He was jealous, terribly jealous. To the point he confessed, and not in the cool way he wanted to.

“I’m sorry….can I make it up to you?” Neteyam asks, his eyes glancing down to her awaiting lips. Y/n’s eyes twinkle in happiness.

“You could give me something I’ve wanted for a very long time” Y/n offers, the boost in confidence helping her through.

“Oh? And what would that be?” Neteyam quirks an eyebrow.

“This” Y/n whispers, her hand reaching up to pull him flush against her own. Their lips press against each other for a much needed kiss. Neteyam grabs on waist, keeping her close to him as he closes his eyes at the sensation. Their lips mold against one another feverishly. The feeling of love deep within them. Just as Neteyam nudges his tongue against her lips he pulls away hearing a threatening growl.

Y/n and Neteyam turn to Rik’ean, who is much closer now. His eyes on Neteyam, baring his teeth. Not in a threatening way, but the growl he gave was a warning.

“I think he’s jealous” Y/n teases, catching her breath. Neteyam swoons at the sight of her swollen lips.

“Let him, he deserves it” Neteyam responds, side eyeing the creature out of annoyance. Sure, it was a Palulukan. But did he have to ruin the moment?

“Why?”

“He deserves to feel what I felt” Neteyam replies easily causing Y/n to laugh at his words.

“So…..did you prefer his kisses. Or mine?” Neteyam asks, still firmly holding her against him.

“Hm…I wonder” Y/n teases, her finger tapping her chin in thought. Neteyam smirks, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Guess I’ll have to to convince you, Ma’Y/n”

__________________________________________

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed!! Next will be ‘Precious Tsyeym Pt.1’, I’ll also complete some requests along the way. Let me know what you guys think!!

[bleuside97]

Redemption and Regression

paring: babydaddy!jungkook x exgirlfriend!reader

summary: even after five years there is not escaping of jeon jungkook.

warnings: reader has a four year old child, reader gets kidnapped by jjk, manhandling, harsh words, profanities, a bit of angst,

genre: yandere jungkook

"Hi mommy." A little voice called through the phone call. You hold the phone close to your ear. Relief filled your senses by hearing your son's voice. Looking both ways before crossing the empty street. "Hello mommy's baby." You replied to your son, U-Jin Y/L/N, smiling ear to ear. "How are you liking it at Grandma's house?" You asked the small boy. "I love it here, Grandma has lots of toys for me to play with and she cooked samgyupsal for dinner." You couldn't see him but you can tell that joy evident in his voice. In the background of the phone call the sound of toys clashing together. Clearly, submerged in his fun toys he stopped taking.

Your four year old baby, frequently stays at his grandparents house on nights you have to work overtime. This whole week has been filled with late shifts at the office. You are employed as a journalist, a struggling one if that, you are writing your newest article that could be your breakthrough. A female voice cuts in, "Y/n." "Hello Mom, thank you for taking U-Jin in again, I've been so busy at the office." Walking home from work alone in the dark of the night. Thankfully you're almost at home. Just a few more blocks from it. You walk through the patches of yellow lights given by the street lights, within every kilometer. A gust of wind flies past you and bites your nose and cheeks turning a bright rose color. Your cling onto your light jacket a little tighter with your free hand. It was cold but your pursed nonetheless pulling the hood over your head. Pushing your hands deeper into your jacket's pocket for warmth. You continue to walk to your destination.

"I can't neglect my responsibility as a Grandmother," She dismisses your gratitude, always selfless. You're grateful to have her in your life, the only person you trust right now. You smile gratefully, admitting, "I can't do this alone." Tears well up, clouding your vision. "I'm a struggling single mom, trying to keep my job." A compassionate sigh emanates from the other end of the phone. "Don't give up, Y/n. You've come so far from those so many years ago." Her encouraging words bring a smile to your face. The smile fades as you recall your life before five years ago. Swiftly changing the subject, you attempt to forget about it. "I'll pick up U-Jin tomorrow, it's my day off. See you then, please kiss U-Jin goodnight for me."

You conclude the call quick to tuck it in your purse. A shadow of a figure in the distance. A rather tall figure, with long brunette hair blowing in the wind. He wore a loose-fitting hoodie and baggy jeans. He walks, his gaze locked on the sidewalk ahead, his face obscured by a cap that renders him faceless in the dim light. In the midst of the crowded sidewalk, your shoulders accidentally collide. You're quick to offer an apology, but as you do, the faceless figure slowly turns to face you, and in that instant, you imprint a name on his featureless visage. A surge of instinctive fear jolts through your mind, urging your body into action. Your legs propel you into motion before rational thought can catch up.

In the darkness behind you, an iron grip suddenly clamps onto your arms, imprisoning them against your trembling frame. You instinctively struggle, desperately attempting to wriggle free from his unyielding hold, but he remains an immovable force. As fear courses through your veins, you open your mouth to scream, only to be violently yanked backward, stealing the very breath from your lungs and reducing your scream to a feeble gasp.

His fingers constrict around your waist and throat, the world narrowing to the thunderous pounding of your heart in your ears and the veins throbbing visibly in your throat. Panic surges within you, tears welling up in your eyes. Amidst the chaotic moment, your vision is reduced to a blur of blinding car headlights, the whizzing of the street, and a fraction of a car door frame as you're forcibly thrust into the passenger-side seat. Desperation fuels your efforts as you claw your nails against his arm, a frantic struggle to break free.

Having cornered you within the confines of the vehicle, your assailant steps back, allowing you a fleeting glimpse. Through your disheveled hair, the darkness, and the tears clouding your vision, you discern little more than the silhouette of a man. His head abruptly swivels in your direction, his hand lunging forward, and a noxious cloth slaps onto your face.

In your frantic struggle with all your might, you toss your head back, a desperate bid to evade him, your instincts screaming about the consequences of failure. You were forcibly shoved into the car, an unsettling sense of déjà vu washed over you, and you could have sworn that your faceless assailant wore a hauntingly familiar, triumphant grin. A haunting warning chills your soul, "I warned you, y/n, from the moment you left me, I told you I will always find you." The world dissolves into darkness as he steps back, sealing your fate with a resounding slam of the car door. Rendering you unconscious.

(Transition)

A cold shiver danced down your spine, and the chill of damp concrete beneath your scent a jolt of discomfort through her frail frame. Panic began to claw at the edges of your consciousness as her memory reluctantly unveiled the grim truth: she was trapped, imprisoned by the very person she had once called her own.

As her senses gradually sharpened, she became aware of the stale, musty air, tinged with the scent of old wood and mildew. The sound of distant water dripping echoed ominously, punctuating the silence that enveloped her. Her hands, trembling as she explored her immediate surroundings, brushed against rough walls and the coarse surface of a cot, revealing the stark minimalism of her prison. With every fleeting moment, the dreadful awareness of her predicament grew more poignant. Memories of their tumultuous history resurfaced, casting shadows on her thoughts, and the realization dawned that she was now at the mercy of her former captor. Tears welled up in her eyes as she grappled with the agonizing helplessness of her situation.

Amidst the dimly lit basement's gloom, your eyes gradually adjusted to the obscurity, revealing the harsh reality of her situation. As her disoriented senses sharpened, she could make out a silhouette lurking in the shadows. Her heart raced, and a tremor coursed through her frail form as the figure gradually materialized before her.

a/n: it's been a minute bro ik i said that i was going to post like five days a week naaa that was a lie. it's not that easy im currently in school and im tired and doing work all the time. im exhausted but ima try to post once a week. i will try. anyways, im still on my yandere shit and i have way more coming up. i really this one and i think it's a cool story. please let me know your feedback please this is only the first part of the story and i don't want this to flop 😭 please don't make it flop I beg! i really worked hard on it it took me days to do!! there's gonna be two more chapters and smut would be included in the next chapter so...

[puckpocketed]

who is #43?

Hello !! First off thank u for visiting. If you clicked read more by accident rip sorry it’s a lot of text. ENJOY!!! <3

1. This was the photo reference I used. I really did mean it when i said he photographs well!! I really like how scrungly he looks at times lol. v paintable

2. here’s a timelapse for your viewing pleasure in video + gif form <3

3. Process breakdown below. I am not formally trained, so don’t take any of this as professional advice!! The way i paint has been compared to channeling some evil contract with a demon also. So um . Im saying that i dont remotely think that this is efficient or correct, its just whats comfortable for me <3

3a) the dreaded lining phase. I have 2 modes of operation when it comes to painting - either i go full-dick with fancy inking/sketching + cel shading (rare, unrefined, haven’t figured out a nice workflow yet) OR i do a very very basic chicken scratch set of lines like so:

It’s less about being realistic here and more about laying down some guide lines for the chaos ahead. If i thought i could get away with it, I would start every rendered painting i do with laying down colours — but unfortchh ive tried that before and it usually ends in really weird proportions. Even with the lines i still need to make adjustments. This is something no people except me would notice but look at the above sketch; the eyes are too big and slightly too far apart, the forehead is too small and thus the hair is also not quite big enough… I have a bad habit of drawing eyes too big on faces, they’re my favourite facial feature to draw.. i barely resisted giving him big cow eyelashes (I love big cow eyelashes… all of my OC’s and most of my more stylised fan art of characters get big cow eyelashes… god…. Big cow eyelashes SAVE ME……….)

Anyway. Structure of the face + hand somewhat established. <3

3b) Underpainting!! Okay stay with me here . Ever since i figured out i dont have to paint in 03925893853 different layers, I’ve joyfully painted on 1 layer as much as possible. I dont have the brain power all the time to be managing layers so I simply dont work with that many layers. For this painting, the skin in its entirety was painted on one layer, the hair on another layer, and the effects on the last layer. There was a placeholder background off-white/grey colour for a while there, and I duplicated the line layer — one for figuring out where to lay colours, and one hidden for later so i could check back to see how accurate to the sketch/proportions were to the actual painting. 6 layers, 2 of which i painted the bulk of the piece on, 1 more at the end.

3c) here’s where I started carving out features. I think about objects in terms of volumes and light rather than lines. i love painting and sculpting because of this!! Here you see where I’ve begun to define his features — his eyelids, his bags, his nostrils. Just refining what was there before. The suggestion of facial hair before i gave it up and left it for later (his face is so naked the WHOLE time)

3d) nose bridge highlight, suggesting his eyebrows, a cheek highlight. A touch more coral red and muted yellow pull away from the grey/blue underpainting. Strategically leaving some of it peeking through.

3e) i truly start messing with the fidelity of his features here. Red lipstick <3 and some violet/blue for shadows on the right side of his face.

3f) the part where it starts looking like q.hughes to me (though, my friend said i got his vibe pretty early on which is such a compliment.. waaaaa…..) I love this part of every painting i do. I know it’s definitely not the Correct order since other parts of the entire painting are simply Not Rendered or Done, but whos gonna stop me?? :3

I love love loveeee painting faces. Adding the little shinies to his eyes + lips + upper lip + nose … you don’t know how much of a difference it makes until you do it. Also i snatched his eyebrows

3g) i really pushed the red/coral/ochre/orange here. Note the yellow highlights on his cheekbones, the forehead, and the thin thin line of pink right between where his bottom lip ends and his chin shadow starts <- very important . To ME!!!!!!! Also highlighting his waterline and adding his lashes was so so fun <3

3h) FACIAL HAIR!!! And I started rendering his hand. Some micro adjustments made to his face for proportion check.

3i) i start painting his hair in earnest and realise his forehead is too small so i make the adjustment. I really love how it falls into his eyes in this photo. <3

3j) i make some final adjustments to his eyes — a bit smaller, closer together. And i refine the outline of his jaw, push the stylisation of it just a little.

3k) Finishing details; his flyaway hairs, his moles, a bit of texture on his face, shadows cast by his hair, his little forehead cut <3

3l) i adjusted his hand here, added more texture to his skin, refined his hair a tiny bit more, and made the decision not to fuck around painting his jersey because i wanted the focus to be his face <3

3m) Canucks blue and green. Captain at 23. His form bleeds into the background. He is the franchise.

theee most fun ive had painting anything. and i finally feel... warmed up? if that makes sense. art for me is like. if i dont do it in a while it feels like nothing goes right when i come back to it. i hate that feeling, and the most difficult hurdle to clear is letting myself feel that until i get back into my Zone. after all this time i feel like im BACK !!!!!!!

i loved painting this fella. hes SO Shaped. <3

Apologies i simply do Not have the energy to write the alt text for all of these so i hope the little blurbs are okay aslkjasdklj. i gotta post and go to bed . if u made it this far, thank you for reading!!

[kquil]

hi hope ure okay 🤗 will u be posting a chapter 7 preview?

i'm doing great, thank you (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)♡ i've been getting pretty busy lately and have just gotten over my monthly visit with mother nature (ಥ‿ಥ) so i'm sorry for being late with my preview. here it is for you!

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER 7 (PREVIEW)

Screams rang out through the night, horrific and painful, that was what had woken Sirius up. Shaken by the disturbing sound, Sirius clambers out of bed to look out of the dorm room window. Like some sort of haunted picture, the full moon hangs suspended in the night sky, laying claim to its dominance over the vast expanse of space, outshining the stars and ousting all clouds that still linger. It glowed like the many poltergeists that roam Hogwarts’ halls but the moon’s presence was incomparably menacing. 

“What is that screaming?” Sirius utters, his grey eyes searching the landscape through his window for some form of explanation. 

“I don’t know but Remus still hasn’t returned,” James speaks up from the shadows, nearly making Sirius jump out of his skin. 

“W-wait, Remus isn’t back yet?” Peter asks, also slipping out of bed and the three make their way over to their friend’s absent bunk. “Where could he be?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out,” James grins and holds up a cloak. 

“How is that gonna help us find out where Rem—” Sirius begins, rubbing his eyes from sleep but stutters to a stop when James’ figure disappears beneath the fabric. The eldest Black brother shares a look of surprise with Peter before turning a grin back to James who was now a floating head. 

“I like your thinking, James old chap!” Sirius jests and slips beneath the invisibility cloak with him. 

“Will we all be able to fit inside?” Peter’s eyes swim with a healthy level of uncertainty, only to be pulled under the cloak despite his protests. 

“We’ll fit, just keep in time with my pace and be very very quiet,”James warns and the two nod affirmatively, Sirius being much more enthusiastic compared to Peter’s hesitance. 

“I hope we find, Remus soon,” Sirius comments under his breath, pressed against James’ right as Peter staggers along at James’ left. 

“I know… with all that screaming outside, I hope he isn’t in any trouble.” The three make their way to the hospital wing but falter at a hallway junction. Which way was the hospital wing again? 

“I-I think we should go right,” Peter helpfully stutters after some thought. 

“I thought it was left?” Sirius scratches at his head as James gnaws on his inner cheek. The three collectively decide to go right for the time being and if it was wrong, they simply turn back and go the other way. 

Later that night, you ask Kreacher for more information. The topic clearly made Regulus uncomfortable and you didn’t want him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, which is why you didn’t ask any further questions, especially at the dinner table where the atmosphere should be lighter. Hopefully, you can fully dismiss all tensions from dinner when you tuck him into bed later on. 

Seated at your desk, you suppress the groans of discomfort that were being conducted through the walls from Orion’s private office — you can’t believe he’s still hasn’t asked Kreacher for a healing potion. But you suppose it’s fitting that his ego is making him suffer more at this point. You savour the sounds of his pain for only a few moments more before calling for Kreacher yourself. 

“Mistress has called for Kreacher?” the hunched house elf immediately asks after appearing before you with a pop. He remains ever aged and wrinkled but his unruffled demeanour and, somewhat, contented expression certainly makes him appear brighter. 

“Yes, I was wondering if the house had any secret rooms, perhaps down the hall from the library,” Kreacher gives you a skeptical look, one that was doused with suspicions you immediately set about diffusing, “it seems my fainting spells are getting to me and tampering with my memories,” At this, Kreacher’s expression morphs into worry and he begins to clutch tightly at his ragged clothes while falling into rambles upon rambles of heightening anxiety for your health. It was a rather endearing sight, knowing someone cares so deeply for your well-being, but you think the poor elf might just self-induce a heart attack if you let him continue like this, “it’s okay though Kreacher, I’m okay. Please just tell me about that secret room?”

Kreacher takes a moment to catch his breath and flush away his anxiety before answering, “Ladies of the noble and most ancient house of Black were the only ones, Mistress, they be the only ones allowed into the parlour,”

“Parlour?”

“The private parlour, Mistress, yes,” Kreacher nods, subconsciously flattening the wrinkles of his clothes with his hands, standing a little straighter and subtly puffing out his chest, “the powerful, esteemed ladies like to talk in priiiivateeee,��� he drags out the word in a low tone, which spikes your interest and reaffirms your speculation on the room being used for dark purposes. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Regulus reads his letter again and nods in satisfaction. This was his third draft of it but he felt his efforts to be worthwhile. Letters were a special occasion and something that made a person feel immediately special when they read a letter that’s addressed specifically to them so he wanted to put in a good effort for Sirius. He just hopes it reaches him in good time. 

“Mother,” Regulus stands with his letter in hand, ready for postage, “my letter is finished, may I deliver it Sirius now, please?”

You smile warmly and nod, slipping Alphard’s letter into the main drawer of your desk. With a small wave of your hand, you gesture him over to you, “would you like to give it a wax seal?”

Regulus’ eyes sparkled with excitement, “I’m allowed?”

“Of course, little love, come here,” you pull him into your lap and gesture to the apparatus around you to create a wax seal.

“First, pick out the coloured wax you want for your seal,” Regulus picks metallic silver wax, a perfect choice for the black envelope he was sending it in, a signature of the Black Family. “Now you put it in this little spoon and melt it over the candle,” with an eager nod, Regulus holds the spoon over the candlelight and the two of you wait for it to melt together. 

“I think it’s melted now mother,” 

“Let me see…” he shows you, swirling around the liquid wax to demonstrate it’s fluidity and grins at your approving nod, “good good. Get the seal ready,” he diligently takes the Black Family seal in his other hand, “now, when you stamp the wax, don’t wiggle it around or else the design will get muddled,” Regulus gives an affirming nod and waits for your instruction to pour the wax before stamping it. He doesn’t wiggle it as you’ve advised. After a few moments, you whisper that it was finally okay for him to take away the stamp and he gasps in delight at the beautiful seal that was left behind. 

“Thank you, Mother!”

“Would you like to post it or ask Kreacher to post it for you?” 

“I’d like to post it please,” his request pulls you away from your desk, just in time as it was nearing 5pm already. You patiently lead him to the family owl and watch with a smile as he hands over his letter and waves off the owl with a cheer. “Sirius is going to love the letter, darling,”

“I hope he sends one back soon!”

“I don’t doubt that he will,”

navi. | series masterlist

i hope you darlings enjoyed the preview and are looking forward to the full chapter on 1st December!ヾ(。✪ω✪。)ｼ

[nile-the-empathy-cleric]

I'm a huge fan of your work, your writing is so beautiful, and the way you add your own personal love of art is just; it's genuinely amazing. I was wondering if you have any paintings that you think each of your favorite characters would represent or maybe even what u see when u look at them. ❤️🖼🎨🖌

Oh boy do I love this ask! Firstly, than you 🥺 you're too kind 💕

Second I have so many paintings that spring to mind for various characters! Immediately off the bat my brain went right to Lestat and how his presence and aesthetic (especially in 1920s New Orleans) gave gigantic J.C. Leyendecker vibes.

(left) The Sleuth J.C. Leyendecker, ca. 1906 and (right) Arrow Shirt Collar Ad, 1916. By J.C. Leyendecker For Arrow Shirt Collars, 1916

The way Leyendecker plays with shadow, light, and color to project an air of seduction and power is just *chef's kiss.* He is a master at depicting an idealized masculinity that still has a level of vulnerability. I don't think it's just the styling/ fashion of the men in Leyendecker's illustrations that remind me of Lestat, but the features as well. J.C. gives them this attitude of nonchalance but there's something deeply concerned with appearances underneath. Is that not Lestat?

For Claudia there are a couple. First (not a painting but a sculpture) is Degas' The Little Dancer Aged Fourteen. I look at this piece and think of the history of ballet and the connotations of ballet at the time Degas was working. In France at the time ballerinas were highly taken advantage of and exploited. The exploitation was sexual in nature and simultaneously adultified and infantilized. They were highly fetishized. It's very sad and tragic and it reminds me of Claudia. The Little Dancer has an almost defiant energy to her, like there is a sense of pride and restraint, something dignified despite her lesser social standing.

I also see something of Claudia in this piece: Girl in Pink Dress, ca. 1927 by Laura Wheeler Waring. I also think this girl embodies the qualities of both Bailey and Delainey's Claudias–– there's simultaneously an innocence and maturity. I see something similar in Isabella, (aka Young Woman with a Fan), 1906 by Simon Maris and I just think it's neat to see art of Black people done by a white person from the early 1900s that isn't fetishizing or racist (don't look at J.C. Leyendecker's art of Black people, yikes!)

For Louis, my first thought was Derek Fordjour's STRWMN, 2020. It gives NOLA Louis to me in terms of style, but also the colorful and fun energy has the vibes of his little journey of gay self-discovery in Paris. I also see Louis in Lois Mailou Jones' Negro Youth, 1929. It mirrors depressed Louis for me. There is something very fragile in his expression, but you can tell he's trying to be strong, much like Louis.

As for Armand? Well, the number one is Botticelli's Saint Sebastian (it just has an uncanny resemblance to Assad) and the metaphor is too apt to not point out. The other that immediately make me think of Armand is The Abduction of Ganymede by Correggio. It's less the painting and more the myth it's based on, but out of all the Ganymede paintings, Correggio's is my favorite.

And Daniel is just like... any Nan Goldin photo, but I'll pick Heart-shaped bruise, 1980. I don't think I need to give my thoughts here 😂

Thank you again for such a fun ask! I appreciate every message I get from anons and mutuals alike 🥰

[*Edit: Being transparent––I went back and corrected a mistake I made in the original because I don't want an inaccurate/ racist post going around, even after a correction in the reblogs if people aren't seeing the original. I accidentally implied that Laura Wheeler Waring was white. I meant the statement about Simon Maris, who was a Dutch portrait artist. Laura Wheeler Waring was a prominent Black artist. Lesson to self: do not write deeply thoughtful posts at 1 am while you have a fever.]

[bqu1nns]

hiiiiii!!! thank u for ALL the freaking love on my posts/dm's i have recieved!! dont be afraid to leave a request in my inbox if u guys have any ideas for things u want to see me write (im currently writing a smut request... ask away!!) for this fic i wanted to delve in deeper with more "darker" themes of past s@ and other stuff :'( ive gone thru this myself and i just wanted to write it out!! also this is basically about brian doesnt want u to leave him because youre returning for a new sem in college/uni and hes gonna miss u. i hope u guys this like this one + ask me if u guys want a SERIES of this one.. i have so many ideas. LOVE YALL!! ps. i will be writing HOPEFULLY every single day from now on :0)

also i was inspired to write this based off of "smoke signals" by the beautiful and charming phoebe bridgers. song is about reconnecting with the broken parts of yourself and confronting the truths that hadn't been said before... YES!

also idek if brian smokes.. i know he smokes w33d sometimes but idk about cigarettes? hopefully that didn't ruin the story sorry :'(

smoke signals ꔫ brian q.

1385 words

the evening had been a whirlwind of laughter, warmth, and drunk friends that lingered long after they bid their goodbyes to me and brian. brian had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room. tonight had surely been no different. after a cozy dinner and hours of effortless conversations. his laughter echoed in your mind like a favourite song you just couldn't forget, but it wasn't the laughter you awoke to hours later. it was complete and utter silence. 

the bed was empty next to you, the indent of his body still carved into the soft mattress. the faint scent of his smell— earthy and familiar—lingered into the sheets. you sat up slowly, the blanket pooling around your waist, you scanned the room. it sure was quiet, safe from the muted hum of the city below. then, you saw it: a faint glow from the balcony door, the flicker of a lighter’s flame sparkling against the night. 

you pulled on his hoodie from the chair by the bed—it smelled like him, a little worn—and stepped out onto the balcony, barefoot and all. 

brian stood with his back to you, the city skyline stretching out before him like a sea of fractured stars. the cigarette between his two calloused fingers burned lazily, the smoke curling up and flowing into the night’s air. he was still, almost too still, his shoulders tense beneath his band t-shirt. for a moment, you hesitated, not wanting to intrude. 

“i can feel your eyes on me, hon,” brian said, his voice low and gruff, cutting through the silence. 

you froze for a second, but then a smile crept onto your lips. “you can feel my eyes on you?,” you stepped closer to his side.

he turned his head just slightly, enough for you to catch the edge of his smirk, “you've got a stare that's pretty hard to miss.”

you leaned against the railing beside him, letting your arms brush his, the sudden contact seemed to soften him up. he glanced up and down at you, smiling softly, and then at the cigarette between his fingers before taking a slow drag, ember glowing briefly in the dark. 

“couldn't sleep?,” you asked, breaking the silence once again.

he exhaled, the smoke curling past his lips. “didn’t see the point of it,” he chuckled. “you?”, he nudged your shoulder.

you shrugged, pulling his hoodie tighter around yourself. “woke up and you weren't there. thought you’d been abducted by aliens or something.”

that earned a quiet laugh from him, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. he tilted his head back, staring at the night sky—or what could've been beyond the city lights. “nah, if the aliens wanted me, they’d have come for me a loooong time ago.”

he wasn't a man who wasted his words.

“brian,” you started gently, the breeze carrying your hair softly, “what's going on?”

he didn't answer right away. instead, he just stared out at the city, the glow of the streetlights casting colourful shadows across his face. he finally spoke, voice low, almost like a whisper. 

“you're leaving tomorrow.”

you swallowed, the weight of his words setting over you. “you know i have to, bri,” you said softly.

his rough hands gripped the railing, knuckles clenching. “do you remember what you told me when i left for college? seems like it was ages ago.”

the question caught you off guard, but it didn't take long to search through your brain to find the answer. you remembered every word, every tear-stain on your pillow, every goodbye. 

“i told you that i couldn't stand being away from you when you're gonna be in a whole other state while i'm here finishing highschool,” you said quietly.

brian nodded, “you said it wasn't fair to either of us. that we needed to live our own lives.” he paused, put the cigarette out, squishing it. “but i didn't know what you were really going through.”

you flinched at the memory of those days, flooding back like a tidal wave. the nights you cried yourself to sleep. the mornings you woke up feeling like a shell of yourself; pearl taken away from you by some other man. the way you couldn't bring yourself to tell him about the assault—how could you? how would that conversation even go? he was already carrying the weight of his own future and you’d been drowning in yours. 

“i didn't want to hold you back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

he turned to look at you then, his eyes searching for something. “you didn't hold me back,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “i didn't understand why you left back then. i just…i thought i wasn't enough for you to fight for.”

the words hit you like a good punch in the gut, and for a moment, you couldn't breathe. “brian, it was never like that. it wasn't that,” you said, voice trembling. “i was—” you stopped, choking over your own words. “i didn't leave because i didn't love you. i left because i didn't know how to handle what happened to me. i couldn't handle us while trying to put myself back together.”

the weight of your confession hung in the air, words you didn't even really realize within yourself just popped out. for a moment, he didn't say anything. he just stared at you, face softening as the anxiety drained away from his features. 

like he had tears in his eyes. 

“i know that now,” he said finally, voice getting quieter. “i know why you did what you did but that doesn't mean that it didn't hurt like hell.”

“i didn't want to hurt you,” you whispered. “i thought i was doing the right thing. you had a whole future in front of you, and i didnt want to drag you down with my… mess.”

he reached out, hand brushing yours. “you weren't ever a mess to me. you're never going to lose me.”

“but what if i do?” you whispered, question trembling in the space between the two of you.

“when you left last time,” his voice low and unsteady, “it felt like…like someone had ripped out the ground beneath me. and i told myself that i’d never let anyone have that kind of power over me. that i’d never fall in love again.”

you bit your lip, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“but then you came back into my life,” he continued, voice softening. “and all that—everything i’d tried so fucking hard to bury—it came rushing back like it had never left me, even for a second. and i let it back in. for you. us.”

you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. his rip was firm, grounding, like he was holding on for the both of you.

“It's ironic, isn't it?” he said, the corner of his mouth turning into a smirk. “you're the one that's going to college and leaving this time.”

“i don't want to go.” you chuckle as tears spilled over now, hot and out of your control. you hugged him tightly, putting your face into the crook of his neck. 

“then stay,” he said, cradling your face in between his hands, kissing your cheeks sweet and slowly. 

“i can't,” you said, wiping your tears. “you know i can't. but that doesnt mean im letting you go. not this time.”

he lets out a shaky breath and you feel it on your skin. “feels like you're slippin’ through my fingers all over again, doll.”

you turned to him, hand reaching to touch his face, your thumb brushing against the scruff of his jaw. “i'm not,” you said, words steady even though your heart ached. “i'm not going to let us fall apart. you have to believe me, bri.”

he leaned into your touch, pressing a kiss to your hand. “you swear?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “i swear,” you said, “i love you too much to lose you again.”

he pulled you tightly into his arms, holding you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. “i love you so much…too much baby,” he murmured into your hair. 

“let's get back to bed, hmm?” you say as you pull back, leading him back in. 

“you sure we’ll actually sleep?”

– ♡

would u guys want me to make a pt 2 of this or a series of this fic with them of them going to the airport perhaps and dropping reader off.... maybe... college!gf and firefighter!brian .... im dropping my fantasies onto you guys SOUNDS FUN!!!

[theemporium]

🐈‍⬛ charlos as werewolves and the wonders of scary dog privileges (ok but do u let ur werewolf boyfriend sleep on the bed or does he have to sleep on the floor bc he’s too hot in wolf form)

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

There were many things you loved about your boyfriends, and their lycanthropy was one of them.

Despite the fears they shared at the beginning of the relationship between you three, you happily accepted them for who they were. And there were countless perks that came with having two werewolf boyfriends. 

There was the fact they were practically walking furnaces, so the winter weather and even just cold hands were never an issue for you anymore. They were strong—insanely so—and sometimes there was something quite endearing with how easily they were able to throw you over their shoulder. They were affectionate, always there to comfort you and be by your side, regardless of your mood. They were just always there for you.

But if you had to name one con, it would be the overbearing protectiveness. 

Maybe it was instinctive or maybe it was just the way they were as people, but Charles and Carlos hit a new level of protectiveness when it came to you. Sometimes it would be stupid things like scolding you for climbing the kitchen counters when they could just reach the top shelf for you, or insisting that you sit on their laps in case you fall off the couch (you knew this one was a load of shit, but they always used puppy dog eyes on you). 

But sometimes, it was moments like this. 

“It’s just down the road.”

“It’s dark.”

“I won’t even be in the dark for more than five minutes.”

“A lot can happen in five minutes.”

“Oh my god.” 

The argument had been going on for the better part of the last ten minutes. You had been in the mood for something sweet, though you weren’t sure what, and you saw no issue in quickly popping down to the shops to grab a few things. Instead of asking for something or even offering to join, Carlos and Charles had been arguing that it’s best you stay inside. 

Especially considering the idiots had ripped all their clean clothes and the rest of their stuff was currently in the wash, which left them both prancing around the apartment in boxers (not that you minded all that much).

“I’m going and that’s final,” you said simply, pushing past your boyfriends as you grabbed your house keys and slipped on a coat before you made your way outside. It took less than thirty seconds before you noticed them. “Oh, you have gotta be kidding me.”

You stood in the middle of the street, hands on your hips and eyes narrowing at the sight of the two large wolves just standing behind you. The first one being a little larger, all black with big brown eyes staring at you that you knew to be Carlos. The second was a little leaner, with dark brown fur and the same pretty green eyes of Charles that you loved. And both of them just tilted their heads innocently at you.

“You two are ridiculous,” you hissed, eyeing the empty street around you in case somebody saw you talking to two massive wolves and thought you were out of your mind. “Just…stay hidden.” 

They did as you asked, staying hidden in the shadows (which is about as easy as you’d assume for two massive wolves in the city) until you made it to the shop. They waited outside as you bought what you needed before you began to make your way back to the apartment.

Except neither boy shifted back once you reached the apartment. Instead, they both padded down the hall before curling up on the massive bed you shared and you could only sigh at their antics.

“If I wake up to either one of you licking me, you’re going in the doghouse,” you murmured, though there was a soft smile on your face as you crawled in between them, using them as a pillow as you quickly fell asleep.

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