#i mean link too but internally lol

[baileys-writing-desk]

In which a robot toddler is dropped off with its dragon grandpa

Link has had enough of the rude robot Scrapper, and decides to hand him over to Lanayru.

AO3

“So, Master Shortpants! Will you ever let me play with Mistress Fi, vrrm?”

Link sighs. “I told you, no! Now stop blabbing, we’re almost there!” He flies straight forward on Crimson, with Scrapper close by, over the vast sands of Lanayru Desert.

“Aww, that’s not fair, voo-weep! I can handle a sword just fine, you watch me!”

“I said no, Scrapper.” Ugh! Will this guy ever shut up?!

“Why not, zrrrbt!? Huh?? Am I not old enough or somethin’? Cause I know what I’m doin’! I—“

The Skyloftian glares at the robot. “No. I can’t trust you with a sword. You’ll chop someone’s head off! Or, you’ll drop it and lose it. That sword is too precious for child’s play. And that’s final.” He exhales loudly, relieved that the border of the desert is quickly approaching. A bit longer and he can drop Scrapper off with Lanayru…

“I hate you, Master Shortpants! You won’t let me do anything, zzzazt! You took Mistress Fi away from me! And she was the reason I carried all those stupid things for you, ker-dizzt!”

“Well, I’m sorry, okay?!” Link snaps back. “We’ve been over this!”

“Yeah, and I still hate you, bzzrt! You stink!”

Crimson speeds up a bit, apparently just as tired of the robot’s pointless ranting as the hero. Luckily, Link can make out Lanayru’s yellow robe in the clearing ahead. Just a little longer…

“What, you’re not gonna say anything now, krrboosh-CLANG?!” Scrapper laughs from behind. “Pathetic. There better be a dragon here soon, voo-weep!”

“He’s right there.” Thank Hylia. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand this. Not only does Scrapper hate his guts already, the robot is also convinced he killed Fi despite many assurances otherwise.

“Wait, what do you mean, bzzzt?” Scrapper pauses before seemingly having noticed Lanayru. “Is that it? The big yellow thing, zrrm?!”

“Yes, that’s him.” They are close enough now that more of the Thunder Dragon’s features come into view. He’s sitting in his usual spot, arms folded across his chest.

“What is that thing, vrrt?! Ew! Is he going to eat me? Please, I don’t want to get eaten, zrrbt!”

“Shh!” Link whisper-shouts, eyes going wide. “Stop that, you idiot! He’ll hear you!”

Now directly over the clearing, he whistles to Crimson—the okay signal for a dismount—and jumps off the Loftwing, holding up his Sailcloth as he falls to slow his descent. He hears a frantic “WHAT ARE YOU DOING??” from Scrapper, who quickly follows.

“Don’t yell like that, I’m fine,” he replies, feet touching the grass. He ties the cloth around his waist as the robot lands next to him, and Lanayru greets him.

“Link! I was just thinking about you, boy! How’ve you been—“

Before the dragon can finish, Scrapper interrupts. “Wow, it’s even weirder close up, zzzrrt! It’s so chubby!”

Lanayru’s eyebrow furrows in confusion. Link gasps and claps a hand over Scrapper’s mouth, utterly horrified.

“Stop that! You do not treat dragon deities that way, do you understand me?! Where are your manners??”

The robot mutters something behind Link’s hand. And Lanayru…A hint of recognition appears in his eyes.

“Oh my Hylia…” The Thunder Dragon mutters. “Is that—?!”

Scrapper slaps Link’s hand away. “LD-301S Scrapper, at your service, voo-weep! Now tell me, what’s with that long beard?”

Link nudges the robot’s side, whispering “Stop it!” Then he glances up at Lanayru. “I must apologize…I believe he’s yours?”

The old dragon is speechless for a moment, holding his hands over his mouth. “I…” He pauses, lowering them and gaping at the flying robot. “…That’s my transport robot! I built it all those years ago…How could I have forgotten about you?” He grins at Scrapper. “Welcome home, little one. I never thought I would see you again!”

Ah, Lanayru built that thing, Link wonders, wishing for a moment that the dragon never had.

Scrapper flies up so he is just out of the hero’s reach. “Who the fuck are you, bzrrt?!”

“LANGUAGE!” shouts Link. Hylia above, where did he learn THAT word??

“Now, surely you haven’t forgotten me!” Lanayru chuckles deeply, folding his arms across his chest. “But perhaps, I didn’t make you capable of long-term memory like the others.” He sighs. “I was your Master Thunder Dragon. You used to carry things for me, and the other robots. But you took quite a liking to me, I recall.”

“Wait, hold on, vrrrrt! You do look a bit familiar…Oh! I might know your name! You’re named after some goddess out there or something, zrrat!”

The old dragon nods. “Yes, I’m Lanayru. After the goddess Nayru.”

“Lanayru, voo-weep!” Scrapper spins around in the air. “That’s fun to say! Lanayru! Lanayru! Ooh, I need a nickname for you, like I have with Master Shortpants!”

“Master what—?!“ The Thunder Dragon stares at the hero, who simply laughs.

“He’s got quite an attitude,” says Link. “I don’t know where he got it from, but it’s almost as if he was raised by the Water Dragon. He has no manners whatsoever, and it’s infuriating.”

Before Lanayru can respond, Scrapper shouts excitedly. “Ooh! I got it, bzzzt-CLANG! Master Chub-Chub! ‘Cause of that big belly, heehee!”

“Oh boy.” Lanayru sighs again. “No. You are not calling me that.”

“Awww, why not, vrrrpt? You’re no fun! Boring old dragon!” He turns around to glare at Link, presumably for taking him here. The Skyloftian ignores the robot and focuses on the Thunder Dragon.

“Please, Lanayru,” he begs in frustration. “Just take him. I can’t do this.”

“He’s bothering you, I see? My deepest apologies, boy. I will take him off your hands.”

“Oh, thank you.” Link sighs with relief. Thank Hylia, thank Farore, thank them all!

But Scrapper, unfortunately, is too stubborn. “Master Shortpants, you can’t leave me here, vrrrt! It’s weird over here, zrrrbt! There’s nothing to do! And this weirdly familiar dragon is ugly, voo-weep!”

“That’s enough!” Lanayru scolds, throwing his hands in the air. “Don’t you know how to treat your own creator?! Unacceptable! I taught you better than this!”

Link winces, hoping the old dragon hasn’t just changed his mind with the frustration in his words. Where did he get this attitude anyway?, he wonders, staring at Scrapper who spins around impatiently.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Lanayru, “I know I’m asking a lot of you, but…”

“Oh, please. He’s one of mine, you think I would turn him down? Sure, this one’s nothing short of a nuisance, but it’s really nothing I can’t handle.” The Thunder Dragon pauses as Scrapper suddenly flies past Link and toward the dense gathering of trees. “Hey! Scrapper, where are you going?! You get back here!”

The Skyloftian giggles. Just like a fucking toddler. But Lanayru’s face lights up, and Link turns to see several other LD-301 robots emerge to meet Scrapper. Oh, whew. At the very least this may give the stubborn robot a reason to stay, and not follow Link back reluctantly like a whiny remlit.

“Well, let’s hope he gets along with them,” says the hero, as the robots mutter amongst themselves. “And you…do you think he’ll ever remember you?”

Lanayru shrugs. “Perhaps. You never know with robots like him. Although, I’m hoping he does. Then he’ll show respect to me, instead of that ridiculous nickname he just used. Hoo boy…” He lets out a long sigh. “301S has always been a handful. Even back then.”

“Oh, I bet. You know…there is one thing I would like to bring up with you. He, uh…” Link gulps and gazes hesitantly at a waiting Lanayru. “Well, he’s been in ‘love’ with my sword.”

The Thunder Dragon throws his head back in a bellowing laugh. “I—I’m sorry, what?!”

“Yeah, it’s more of the spirit that used to—“

“Hey! Bzzzrt, I heard that!” Scrapper quickly flies back up to them, staying closer to Lanayru this time. Another robot follows through the grass. Oh shit…oops.

“What are you two doin’, talking about me behind my back, zzzzazt?! I’ll have you know Mistress Fi was the most beautiful thing I’ve laid my eye on, vrrrrt!”

Lanayru chuckles, having seemingly understood upon hearing Fi’s name. “Well…okay? How peculiar, Scrapper.”

“Yeah, and she’s gone now, voo-weep! She’s in the sword forever…And I wanted to play with it, zrrrbt!” The robot angrily points at Link. “But this meanie-pants over here said no!”

Link doesn’t bother to argue anymore, scowling teasingly instead. He doesn’t know how many times they’ve been over this already.

“Hey, knock that off.” Lanayru frowns at Scrapper. “You do not treat the chosen hero that way! And he’s right, I won’t let you handle a sword like that. It could seriously hurt someone when used carelessly.” The old dragon folds his arms across his chest. “Are we clear?”

At first the robot says nothing, while Lanayru raises an eyebrow in anticipation. But then he briefly bows forward, out of what looks like respect to his creator.

“Yes, Master Thunder Dragon, bzzzrt!”

Link sighs with relief. It seems that Scrapper is finally remembering after all.

[acorviart]

Europe VAT laws not changing any time soon, recent. If understand FAQ well, mean shipping to Europe impossible for several years minimum?

That's correct, I won't be shipping to the EU for the foreseeable future due to some import packaging regulations that either have already been implemented or are planning to be implemented in the future.

Note that this is for EU countries only—I can ship to all other non-EU countries like Switzerland, except for the UK due to the UK's own convoluted VAT system.

The only workaround I can offer for EU folks is that you can have a friend or family that lives in a non-EU country place an order to deliver to their address, and then they are able to ship that order to you marked as a gift. Not an option for everyone, I know.

Longer explanation under the readmore for those curious:

As it stands now, each EU country has its own system and fees that I can't keep up with (for example, France would cost me 80 euros per year), I'd need to individually register and report to each country, some require reporting and tracking of what sources of packaging I use, I believe? It's all very complicated, and it makes my head spin just trying to figure out what the requirements actually are, so that's why I stopped shipping to the EU entirely out of an abundance of caution. I also just don't get enough sales to the EU to justify the headache, I'd probably actually lose money paying all the fees. Actually, while I was looking up details while writing this post, apparently there's a new PPWR that's going to replace the old EU Packaging Directive? This is why I can't handle this (ಥ﹏ಥ)

As for why this doesn't seem to be affecting all companies—corporations can obviously afford their own professionals whose entire job is to handle this stuff, and the requirements are also different for large vs small volumes. Meanwhile, a lot of other small or 1-person businesses straight up don't know about these requirements, because it's not like there's a memo passed around about updates to international shipping law. It's also even more confusing because some packages are slipping by without any issue, probably in part due to how the regulations are still new and still being implemented, so I assume it's kind of a mess.

I know of a few people who are willingly taking the risk and shipping to the EU anyway and have had no consequences (for now at least), but I'm not risking the fines ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now for the UK, their VAT system doesn't have anything to do with packaging, but what it does require is similar registration with the government, and I'm required to collect and pay the VAT myself. No thanks!

TLDR; laws hard. laws also expensive. too stupid to figure out and too fearful of fines. no ship to countries

fun story: someone also once emailed me this long diatribe about how they think I'm shit at research and that I'm just making all this up (specifically just to screw with europeans or something, I guess?), so I sent them a few links to the literal official government websites where I got my info (like that UK one), and they never responded. lol

[tealvenetianmask]

A defense of Blitz in those text messages.

Because people are still making reactions to Western Energy with the caption, "Stolas deserves better." There are still people being shitty about it in the tags too. And Blitz is my favorite and doesn't deserve the slander.

Stolas has been taught subtlety, politeness, and understatement his entire life, and even though it doesn't come naturally to him (see The Circus and literally everything about him). He thinks it's the best way to get accepted by people. To Blitz, that's upper class bullshit that's condescending, manipulative, and mostly lies. He also can't write like that, so why even try to engage with it?

When you take apart each line, it's clear that Blitz's feelings of inferiority and hurt are responsible for the tone of these texts, NOT a desire to hurt or abandon Stolas.

Here.

ITZ WUTEVS

Blitz's internal monologue: You're apologizing to be polite. No one says "I'm sorry if anything I said or did may have offended you" and means it. What you mean is that you hope we still get to fuck. It would be better if you just said that. I'll be down eventually though.

Y?

Blitz's internal monologue: You don't really care. Cut the polite bullshit.

SHUR (I think- it's blurry, but it's in response to the wall of text about just how unbothered Stolas is by what happened at Ozzies, how glad he is that Blitz doesn't care, and how maybe Blitz should insult him in bed sometime.

Blitz's internal monologue: You just confirmed that you don't care in a whole paragraph. It was hard to read all that, and I already knew you didn't care.

NP (Seeing Stars)

Blitz's internal monologue: NP (lol)

LYKE OLWAYS

Blitz's internal monologue: sex night! (cue penises running around on a rainbow on his calendar)

K (after Stolas says that Blitz doesn't have to come over)

Blitz's internal monologue: he doesn't want sex night. Act cool. I shouldn't feel sad about this. Act cool.

WUTEVR U WANT. ITS UR NIGHT.

Blitz's internal monologue: This is not a drill. He's not into me anymore.

MAE BEE

Blitz's internal monologue: I get it. You don't want me. Quieter voice in the back of his head: Stolas wants to talk. Talking is scary. Better not commit to talking.

I MITE B BUSY

Blitz's internal monologue, STRAIGHT FROM THE DUET: I'm getting by on avoiding his questions!

It was surprisingly hard to screenshot this stuff/get it across without rewriting everything! Please, let me know your insights/different interpretations, and feel free to link other posts that have already done this well- I know there are some!

[prettyboykatsuki]

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

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

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

all sexual content present in this part.

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

⊹ wc ; 18.4k / 36.1k

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

LINK TO PART ONE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snow is falling. 

__

Come Saturday, Gojo receives a knock on his door. 

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo soothes you silently, putting a hand up. 

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

You sigh, closing your eyes and bracing yourself. 

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

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

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

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

“Oh, uhm, then,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could I borrow your shower?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stupid.”

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

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

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

When the water rushes, he follows you. 

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

For someone like you, it’s probably impossible. 

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

You trust him, or you try too. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Morning. Are you making breakfast?” 

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

You roll your eyes at him, but smile anyway

“Guess I’ll be the judge of that,” 

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

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

“Get started on some coffee maybe,” 

You nod your head and yawn. 

“Sounds good to me,” 

__ 

You decide to stay for a week. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Clothes?” You repeat. 

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

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

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

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

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

The power of love, he thinks almost whimsically. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort. 

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

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

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

“Change in management,” 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. See you” ) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You say that so easily,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe when he was 17.

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

“How are you not crying?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because of your friend, right?” 

Gojo smiles. 

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

“Like?” You ask, curious. 

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

You’re silent for a while, again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 You see Gojo as human, still. 

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

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

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

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

For now, he smiles at you. 

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

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

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

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

“Scouts honor,”

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

“What was that?” 

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

Gojo stares. 

“Yeah. Thanks.”) 

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

Today is the 7th day. 

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

Night falls on the 7th day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he talks, his voice tender. 

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

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

“W-what are you…? What do you mean?” 

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

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

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

You look so frightened.

“Wh-what are you..?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-Satoru,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You remain silent, so Gojo fills the space. 

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

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

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

Despair flashes in your expression. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cry out, pitchy and broken. Gojo laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So dependent like Gojo always thinks you should be. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scowl at him (you try too).

“Open your legs, baby,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Satoru, its.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-satoru, pleasemakemecum—please.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Communication stills. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A way to tend to it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

__ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

“H-how’d you…?” 

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

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

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

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

You stare at Gojo for a long time. 

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

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

You look agape as he relays this to you. 

“Share…?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo reaches down and wipes them off for you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo stares back, a predator with its fangs bared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

__

Gojo brings you home quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is a lesson in divine truth. 

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

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

This is a lesson in divine truth. 

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

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

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

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

“Oh?” 

“Can you guess what I want?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He takes a deep breath, whispering to your skin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon. You can look.” 

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

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

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

“Fuck that’s it,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not a question or a request. 

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

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

“Hurt too much?” 

“N-no. Just… feels weird.” 

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

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

“Still okay?” 

You nod weakly. 

“Can I move?” 

Your reply is nothing more than a whimper.

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

‘O-oh. Oh, oh it’s,” 

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

“Starting to feel good?” 

“S-satoru.” 

He swears. 

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

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

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

“Touch yourself for me, okay?” 

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

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

Now this part of you is all his too. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And with this, he’s taken everything.

EPILOGUE / OVERTURE : 

Your senses are accustomed to Gojo by now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is not the cold. 

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

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

A dog howls somewhere far off in the distance.

[borahaerhy]

Hey. This is my first time requesting an imagine from anyone really. I saw that your requests were open and I REALLY enjoyed the mine|jjk one you wrote. If I could, could I request an enemies to lovers jjk imagine with a possesive jungkook. I’ll leave the warnings to your own digression but can I request screaming at each other and praise links 💀😂

:))))

You're Pretty When You're Mad - jjk

Genre: SMUT, angst, fluff, Lawyer!Jungkook

Warnings: Jungkook's a hotshot lawyer that takes credit for his female coworkers work and that's kinda infuriating, they're also defending someone who probably literally unalived their wife, Y/n's kinda mean, possessive!Jungkook, Jungkook's kinda mean, drinking, cursing, clothed sex, unprotected sex (no), multiple orgasms, Praise kink, slight Dom JK, he calls her princess, lmk if I missed something bc I'm sure I did lol

Word count: 3.9K

Ugh

Monday 

It’s easily the worst day of the week. You just spent the past few days off and relaxing, spending time with family and friends; going out or staying in with a good movie or book to occupy your mind. 

But Monday started the week, the first day back and with no ending in sight. The misery that accompanies waking up at 5:30 on a Monday morning rivaled nothing. 

Except for maybe the hatred you had accumulated for Jeon Jungkook. 

You hadn’t always hated Monday’s to this extreme. I mean sure, like everyone else, you didn’t enjoy them or look forward to them, but they were just another day before. 

Not until you started working at your new job, an internship at the most reputable local law firm in the area; where Jungkook had been a partner, and a damn good one at that. 

He was good at his job, sure, but god was he cocky. Anyone that hired him had to pay big money, but they knew they were walking away with whatever they wanted. 

And you, the pretty little intern fresh out of law school, just happened to fall victim to the man's ego.

Most interns aren’t taken too seriously, they get coffee and make runs, sometimes they’ll be assigned with a bigger lawyer to help organize cases, and only after they’ve proven themselves will they get a case of their own. 

You, however, managed to prove yourself pretty quickly, or so you thought, whenever you’d been assigned to assist Jungkook in a case.

You read through everything while helping him get everything organized one night, and noticed something that he hadn’t; the alibi for one of the suspects didn’t check out, as a time-stamped video proved he was not only not where he said he was, but on the complete other side of the country. 

When you told Jungkook, he took all the credit. He said you helped, of course, but he was the one that obviously found the error, and won that case. 

And then it happened a second time. And a third, until Jungkook just insisted that you needed to be his little assistant, since you were so good at helping him stay organized so that he could focus on what was actually important. 

There was nothing you could do, really. The highest paid lawyer with the most cases won in the state, and you, someone who’s less than a year out of college and barely old enough to be taken seriously. There’s only one person they’d believe; and it’s your word against his. 

Not to mention he was just an asshole. 

“Goodmorning, Y/n. Have a good weekend?” Jungkook’s voice had a teasing tone to it, knowing just how much you hated having to work with him at this point; something he seemed to really enjoy. 

You glared over at him before you set your stuff down at your desk, which was now pushed into the corner of his office, per his request. He chuckled as you looked away from him, your exasperated sigh music to his ears as you plopped down in your seat. 

“I had a great weekend, thanks for asking. Well, I assume I did. I got drunk on Friday and woke up this morning, not remembering a goddamn thing the whole time. Did wake up with a few hickies though, so someone had fun,” Asshole. 

While he had plenty reason to be cocky because of his career, he was also cocky because of his looks, and because of the women they earned him. If you didn’t work for him, you in all honesty probably would have thrown yourself at him by now. You even remember being nervous the first time you were appointed to work with him because he was just so attractive. 

That really wore off fast, though. 

He was still hot, sure, but he was also the most infuriating person ever. 

“So I’m assuming you didn’t have time to go over the case you have this afternoon?” You didn’t bother looking at him as you took some papers out of your briefcase, something your family had gotten you as a graduation present to help you look more official. 

“No, but I’m lucky my lovely assistant no doubt already has everything organized and ready for me,” You stood up from your desk, a folder with his copy of everything he needed to walk into the courtroom in a few hours, barring his own personal notes about arguments he needs to make and points to drive his argument home. 

“I’m not your assistant,” You dropped the folder on his desk before you marched your way back to yours, arms crossed over your chest. 

The trial Jungkook had to attend today was for the defense of a man accused of killing his wife. It was obvious he did it; and even if he didn’t, it really looked like he did. His alibi was that he was camping in the woods with his brother, who testified for him, but that doesn’t offer much to the court seeing as family is never a reputable source when it comes to an alibi. 

He also already had a record, petty theft and a few DUI’s. All non-violent crimes, but it still doesn’t play very well in his favor.  There’s also a history of affairs according to friend and family testimony from both the victim and accused. 

At his bail hearing, he practically fucked himself when we regretfully put him on the stand. He showed no emotion, and forgot his cover story half-way through. 

“Oh yeah, this guy. What argument should I use?” You sighed, hating to give him the answers, but knowing that when applying to other firms, a history of wins, even if while partnered with a more experienced lawyer, could only be a bonus. 

“Someone else’s fingerprints were on the murder weapon, but his weren’t, and there was no evidence that he, or anyone, cleaned it off. He’s been having an affair with a woman named Joan Roberts. She’s going to be there today, and I’ve already asked her, she’s willing to testify that she was with him the night of the murder; you just need to convince him before we go in to break down on the stand and confess the truth: he lied previously because he felt so bad about cheating on his wife during her murder,” You paused to take a sip of your coffee, before you turned your attention back to the papers in front of you. 

“Drive home the murder weapon and act surprised when he breaks down on the stand; question him just thoroughly enough that it’s believable that you drilling him while also getting him out of there before he fucks himself into a life sentence, then call his mistress up. She seems a lot smarter than him but I’d be cautious of asking her too much. There’s a list of questions I have written out for both of them, along with questions to ask his brother if he bitches out of admitting to the affair,” 

Even Jungkook seemed impressed, an emotion he rarely showed while working with you. Most of the time, you just came to the same conclusions he would’ve; he’s still an amazing lawyer, he just found a way to not have to work as hard: and that’s you. 

He stood up from his desk and walked over to you, the case folder still in his hand. 

“Thanks babe,” He leaned down and swiftly kissed the top of your head, moving away quickly so as to avoid your clenched fist flying toward his face. 

-

“Not guilty.” 

The courtroom filled with chatter as the jury read their verdict, the judge hammering her gavel while the defense team all stood and celebrated with sweaty hugs and swift handshakes. You simply stood and exited, taking your things with you. 

It was the end of a long day, and you were looking forward to going home. 

“Y/n, wait!” You turned around after you were already halfway down the courthouses front steps; maybe 30 feet away from your car that could take you home, to your stand-offish cat and extremely comfortable bed. “Why don’t you come out with us tonight?” You looked at him suspiciously, his lip clutched between his teeth as he teetered back and forth from his heels to his toes. Why does he look like that? 

“Why would I want to do that?” You turned fully to face him, arms crossed over your chest and your hip cocked out to the side. 

“Because we just won what looked like an impossible case, and you definitely helped with that,” 

“Helped?” He smiled lightly at your aggravated tone, before he descended the steps so he could stand closer to you. 

“Okay, okay, you did all the work, but that’s why I think you should come celebrate with us. Just tonight, I’ll even pay for your drinks,” You thought for a moment, never really having been a person to turn down free drinks - well, free anything, actually.

“Fine, only for an hour though; then I’m going home,” You turned back around and continued down the steps, making a b-line for your car. 

-

 You stepped into the moderately crowded bar wearing the shortest black dress you owned, the plunging neckline really making sure everyone had their eyes on you. 

“Damn, Y/n. You know you look really good outside of a pantsuit?” You plastered on a sarcastic smile, turning to see Jungkook; who you hated to admit looked damn good. 

“Where’s my free drink?” The smirk on his face only grew wider as he raised his hands in defense, slowly backing up towards the bar. 

“Hey, Kev, get my friend one of your finest alcohol beverages, please,” You rolled your eyes.

“A beer please, whatever you have on tap,” He nodded and walked away, only staying gone for a few short moments before reappearing with a full drink in his hands. “Thanks.” 

“What do you even do in your free time? You never come out with us, and you showed up alone, which tells me you don’t have a man-” 

“I prefer to spend my time being productive rather than getting shitfaced on a Monday night,” He smirked, taking a sip of his drink. 

“So no boyfriend, then?” You sighed before taking a drink, probably a bit more than you needed for having just gotten there. 

“Why do you want to know, Jeon?” He raised his hands in defense again, not doing a very good job at hiding his attraction to you from his face. 

“Hey, I’m just making small talk,” He shook his head lightly, his cheeks tinted pink from the alcohol he’d already consumed. He leaned against the side of the bar you were now sitting at, his eyes moving all over your face, taking in each of your features carefully before moving on to the next. He’d always known you were pretty, but here, dressed like that and with a few drinks in his system, he could swear he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

“Why don’t you go away and come back in 5 minutes when I need a new drink,” He chuckled, letting his head fall slightly in defeat before he pushed himself from the counter and did what you asked. 

-

“Oh wow, didn’t think they made lawyers this hot,” You chuckled at his response, his hand drawing patterns into your thigh as he stood in front of you, you sitting backwards of the stool to face him, drink in hand. 

He wasn’t relationship material, by any means, but he’d do for the night. You had a lot of pent-up stress, and he could probably help out with that. Not to mention, Jungkook watching you leave with some random guy would probably knock him down a few pegs. 

“Mmm, and I didn’t know they made people as pretty as you this bad at flirting,” He feigned hurt, hand not slowly moving up the outside of your leg moved to clutch his chest before his smirk resumed, and his hand moved to the bar, effectively pinning you between it and him. 

“I might be bad at flirting, but let me show you something I’m good at,” his face was centimeters from yours, his fingers moving under your dress before they were abruptly ripped away from you, along with the rest of him. “What the hell, man?” 

Jungkook was in the man's face, both taller and bigger than him as he stared him down. 

“She’s not interested, go find someone else to hump,” His voice was so low you barely heard him, his eyes dark and muscles flexed as anger coursed through him. 

“Uh, she seemed pretty interested to me,” Jungkook pushed him, he pushed him hard. He stumbled back into a table, knocking over everything on it and causing a few people to jump up. 

You stood from your seat, no longer amused by the show in front of you. 

“What the fuck, Jungkook? What are you trying to do?” Jungkook turned back to look at you as you pulled on his arm, trying to get him to focus on anything other than the guy that he seemed about ready to beat the shit out of. 

“Hey, all of you, out.” 

You glared over at Jungkook as you grabbed your bag. You shot down the rest of your drink before you turned to walk out of the building along with the two men who seemed to be fighting over you, the security making sure you all get out. 

You opened your phone as soon as you were outside, opening the uber app as you were not about to drive home in your state. 

“I’ll drive you home,” You looked up to see Jungkook, a lot calmer than just minutes before with his hands in his pockets and his hair blowing around in the wind. 

“No thanks,” 

“Y/n-” 

“Aren’t you drunk?” He sighed, looking you up and down. 

“I stopped drinking after you got here,” you furrowed your eyebrows. 

“Why would you do something like that?” 

“Do you want the ride or not?” You looked at him for a moment before you sighed and straightened yourself out, turning toward him, accepting his offer.

-

You stopped outside of your building, Jungkook’s car shutting off as you unbuckled your seatbelt. You looked over at him as he clicked his off too, and opened his door. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You live in a shitty neighborhood, I’m making sure you don’t get murdered on the way up.” 

“That’s fine, I literally do this everyday,” Jungkook rolled his eyes and got out of the car before he leaned back down to look at you. 

“Just get out of the car,” You huffed but obliged, not really wanting to stay in it anyway. 

You walked into the building and got into the elevator, which had a ways up to go before you got to your floor. 

“Is there a reason you decided to fight people?” You asked, the bravery from the alcohol still coursing through your veins, even now as you felt mostly sober. He sighed heavily, leaning his back against the wall. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you scoffed, turning your body to face him fully. 

“Well that matters not at all, why the fuck did you feel the need to do that?” 

“I just didn’t like that guy, all right? He seemed sketchy,” His voice was raised as he answered, hands moving around with no real rhyme or reason. 

“He wasn’t, and even if he was, so are most guys you meet in bars on a Monday at 8pm,” 

“Yeah, no shit, that’s why I didn’t want that guy knowing where you lived or you going back to his place, that just has bad idea written all over it, Y/n,” 

“And? What gives you the right to make my decisions for me? You spend most of your time making my life a living hell and bragging about all the women you take home but I’m not allowed to go home with someone?” You were definitely yelling at this point, and the elevator doors were definitely open and on your floor. 

“No, you’re not!” He yelled back, and it honestly had you taken back a little bit. You scoffed before you stepped out of the elevator and started walking back to your apartment. 

“Y/n!” He followed you out of the elevator, walking just as briskly and angrily as you. 

“Why the fuck not?” You yelled, spinning around just in front of your door before you were pushed against it, strong arms closing you in and lips smothering yours in a way that you’d never experienced before. 

You were pissed, sure, but there was something that turned you on about being pressed up against your front door by the extremely hot man that regularly pissed you off to no end. 

You were quickly tangled together, one of your legs hiked up as he gripped your ass, his hips pushing you back into the door as he bit your lip, his tongue soothing it after before it quickly entered between your parted lips. 

“Keys,” He muttered against you after trying to open your locked door, his lips glued to your neck as you rummaged through your purse to find them. 

You quickly unlocked your door and rushed in, Jungkook quickly shoving you back against it to close it. You kicked your shoes off before he pulled your thighs up to wrap around his waist, your arms wrapped around his neck to hold you steady as he unbuckled his belt and pushed your panties to the side. 

Less than sixty seconds ago you were screaming at each other in an elevator, now he was sliding his admittedly massive dick into you while biting down on the base of your neck. 

“Fuck, princess, you’re so fucking wet,” You moaned lightly into his ear, his words and dick filling you perfectly as he fucked into you at a steady pace. His hands gripped your ass as his mouth left sloppy wet kisses on any exposed skin he could reach. “If fighting with me turns you on this much, I can only imagine the state you're in at work.” 

His thrusts speed up as your pussy swallows him whole, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulling it back, bringing his gaze to meet yours. 

“Do you want to fuck me or piss me off?” His smirk returns as he watches you hold back moans as he hits your g-spot roughly, the door shaking behind you so hard anyone in the hallway would definitely know what’s going on. 

“Both,” He pushed you further into the door, re-adjust himself to have a better grip on you before he pulled you away from it, legs still wrapped around him and his dick still in you. He turned around and walked straight over to your couch still fucking into you. 

You fall back onto your couch, Jungkook on top on you, dick thrusting furiously as his fingers wrapped snugly around your throat. 

“You’re so fucking pretty when you’re mad,” His free hand moved up your dress and cupped your breast, pinching your nipple and pulling it just as roughly as he fucks you. “Jesus christ, I don’t know how I’ve gone this long without bending you over my desk,” you moaned loudly, both hands gripping to the arm that held your throat as your eyes rolled back into your head. 

He pounded into you relentlessly, your pussy clenched around him as his dick begged you to cum. His fingers moved to be around your clit, pinching and circling it as he felt you nearing your orgasm. 

“You’re so good when you’re getting fucked, y’know that, baby?” You moaned as he thrust harder, his skilled fingers taking care of you easily, your orgasm overtaking you before he could even finish his thought. His pace slowed down considerably as he rode you through your high, fingers still moving for a few seconds before they moved to his mouth to be cleaned off, then to cup your cheek. 

“Just lay there and look pretty while I make you feel good,” Jungkook’s thrusts stopped as your orgasm subsided, your pussy still clenching around his dick that was still buried inside you. His lips were on yours with sloppy kisses, much slower than before; this time they almost felt as if they had depth to them, like they had feelings aside from desire and loathing. “Want me to make you feel good again, princess?” 

His hand rested on your chin, his thumb rubbing it as he looked back and forth between your eyes. You nodded softly, a soft ‘yeah’ escaping your lips as you looked at him the same way. 

“Yeah?” His voice soft as he mimicked you, making sure you wanted him to. You did. 

“Yeah,” though your words were inaudible to you, he must’ve heard them as his lips found yours again before he pulled out, and thrust back in hard and deep, deeper than he had been before. 

He fucked you differently this time. With less desperation and more compassion, his hands dancing across your skin delicately as he stripped you of your dress; his lips gently gliding across your burning skin as it became exposed to him before meeting yours again. He kissed you with passion, taking time to really drink you in as his hands caressed every part of you he could reach, as if he had to replicate you completely from memory later on. 

His hips moved with purpose, gliding in and out with rhythm and at a deliciously deep angle that he could feel how much you liked. 

“So beautiful,” the words whispered in your ear, his hot breath tingled against you, sending shivers everywhere. “So good for me,” he moaned before kissing the skin below your ear, soft whimpers embedded in the back of his throat as he sent you over the edge for a second time, this orgasm much more powerful than the last; and his followed soon after. 

Your bodies collapsed into each other, no longer having the strength to hold yourselves up anymore. His head laid on your chest as you gently brushed your fingers through his hair. Sleep soon came over you, the heat from Jungkook’s body covering you accompanied with the overwhelming sense of peace that followed your orgasm had no problem in knocking you out. 

Your soft snores only made Jungkook smile before he reluctantly pushed himself off of you. He moved the hair from your face, seeing you look so peaceful was something he wasn’t very used to seeing, but something he definitely wouldn’t mind becoming acquainted with. 

He got up and redressed himself, before scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back to your bedroom. As he laid you down and pulled the blankets over you, he wanted nothing more than to crawl in with you and drift off the peaceful land you’d already found yourself to be a part of, but he decided against it. 

He knew that if you’d wake up with him in your bed, it’d make you weird. You wouldn’t insult him, call him an idiot and tell him off. You’d be awkward, which he had to admit, he definitely missed from your early days at the firm, but it wasn’t the you he’d grown to respect and admire. 

So he left, knowing that the next day you’d walk into the office as if nothing happened. He’d be cocky, you’d get mad, and he could finally bend you over that desk like he’s always wanted.

[prettypinklass]

Persona 3 and Persona 4 are funny to sort timelines for because there is a one(1) year gap between the games. Now if you push p4 back by one year and put Minato in Inaba-

Im putting a cut here because spoilers for both games

Nyx gets chased off and not even a year later Izanami goes "its free real estate" lol

So Minato lives for unspecified reasons and (reluctantly) moves back to Inaba after the events of P3. He takes Koromaru with him (you can pry them as a duo from my cold dead hands) and attends Yasogami for his final year of high school. Which sucks because a. all his friends are at Gekkoukan and b. Yasogami is a terrible school and Inaba is a small town. He's losing his mind out here gang

Anyway then the midnight channel shows up and it hasn't even been a year since the dark hour vanished so you can imagine how upset he is about this. But he's way too nice so of course when he finds out a group of underclassmen have taken it upon themselves to fight shadows and solve the murder case he and Koromaru end up involved.

Dynamics with the investigation team include:

Yu Narukami - consistently on the same bullshit wavelength and nobody knows how (its the Wild Card Wavelength)

Yosuke Hanamura - punches him at least once for the internalized homophobia but they bond over music

Teddie - he reminds him of Aigis a bit. Trying to teach him to be Better then what he learns from Yosuke

Chie Satonaka - she reminds him of Yukari and its terrifying

Yukiko Amagi - you never fuck with the healers (also a bit scared of her)

Kanji Tatsumi - thinks hes cool. likes his dolls. would also like him to leave Koromaru alone

Rise Kujikawa - MUSIC BUDDIES!! Rise makes fun of him but she gets away with it (he is nothing if not respectful of the navigators who can make or break a fight)

Naoto Shirogane - siblings. arisato/shirogane family au my beloved

Entertaining scenarios include

"Why does your dog have a knife" "He likes them" "arf!"

"What do you mean I dont need to shoot myself in here"

Minato participating in the drag pageant

Elizabeth and Margaret sharing a velvet room for an extended period of time

Mitsuru in the background getting gray hairs because "minato what the fuck do you mean theres shadows in inaba"

Social link to explore Minato's character more

The exchange with Gekkoukan is 10x more entertaining if Minato is there to both comment on the love hotel he almost died in once and be friends with half the students at Gekkoukan

Anyway thats my au proposal

[kumquats-are-gay]

sparing with Johnny, and you pin him down only to find that he's rock hard, maybe some teasing/sex? idk idk

(TF YOU MEAN “idk”?? THIS PROMPT IS HEAT AND I’M ‘BOUTTA COOK!! 🔥💯😤)

Johnny Cage x gn!reader (SFW/NSFM)

NOTE: This will be a two-parter because I just couldn't wait to post what I had already, lmao. This first part only has sexual themes and foreplay, while the second part will have actual smut (also, while this first part is totally GN, the second part will be mentioning afab anatomy, but I will still be using GN pronouns). I'm sorry this took so long to get to; I've been working almost every day for the past two weeks and ya girl is tired, lol. Was super excited to write for this though! :D

ALSO I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE HOW ACTUAL FIGHTING WORKS I JUST MADE SHIT UP LMAO PLS DON'T COME AT ME

Pasted straight from Google Docs and NOT proofread, so please excuse any grammatical/continuity errors/syntax and formatting. I am also still VERY much an amateur writer so pls go easy on me <3

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51869623

Come On With a Come-on

         For a ‘professional’, Johnny Cage is about the least professional person you’ve ever met. Propriety must be a foreign concept to him with how frequently he flirts with you, especially on set—you know, in front of all of your colleagues and crew? The man was shameless in his relentless pursual of you, like a goddamn dog with a bone. And worst of all? You liked it, and this fact frustrated you to no end. 

         How could you possibly be attracted to someone who is so insufferably arrogant, loud-mouthed, and impossibly far up his own ass? An ass that, admittedly, you find yourself staring at whenever you think he isn’t looking. But, because you’re an actual professional, you’ve rebuffed his every attempt to seduce you thus far. Plus, you had a reputation to keep and dignity to hold onto; you weren’t sullying either when the likely outcome would involve your face and name on countless tabloids. 

         Without warning, his stupid, smug, and incredibly handsome smile invades your mind, and you suddenly find yourself wanting nothing more than to punch it off of his unfairly chiseled jaw.

         …or maybe kiss it off.

         “Grah!” you abruptly shout while burying your hands in your hair, momentarily tugging at the roots in annoyance. God, you had a problem. 

         Bzzt.

         “Huh?” You look down at your hip where your phone had just buzzed in your pocket. You pull it out and flick your finger across the screen to unlock it, then tap on the messaging icon.

         Johnny Cage: Hey, wanna spar later? 👊👊

         You raised a brow. You and Johnny worked in the same sphere for a reason. Action films were your guys’ bread and butter since the both of you knew how to fight as well as do your own stunts. 

         You and Johnny hung out casually here and there, but the two of you had never sparred before. You sensed an opportunity in his proposal, though: an effective way to get your frustration out on the source of said frustration. Shrugging, you figure, ‘why not?’

         You: Yeah, I’m down. But I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into b/c I won’t be holding back!

         Johnny: Woah, don’t go threatening me with a good time ;) 

         Your stomach twirled in unbidden delight at the cheeky response, and you internally chastised yourself for being so easily affected by this man. You and Johnny sorted out the details of your meetup—his place, late afternoon—and returned your phone to your pocket. You would just have to kill some time until then.

~~~

         “Of course you would have your own gym, and of course it’s fuckin’ huge,” you joked with a bit of sarcasm, yet enough lightheartedness as to not offend. Though, you doubt Johnny could be so easily offended; he’s got way too much self-confidence (for better or for worse) to be put down that easily.

         “Oh, honey, you haven’t seen ‘huge’ yet,” he boasted with a smirk. The wink that followed did nothing to abate the heat that was slowly taking over your body, but you did your best not to let the effects show. Since when were easy, immature innuendos such a turn on for you? You just closed your eyes and shook your head.

         “Alright, I am definitely knocking you on your ass for that one.”

         “Hah, see if you can, sweetheart!”

         The two of you stood in your  respective corners and took your stances. One quick little countdown later, and the game was on. 

        You knew Johnny was a very good fighter being a martial arts expert and all, but you didn’t realize he was that good. In all honesty, you figured he was more bark than bite, and that you’d have no real problem going toe-to-toe with him. Unfortunately, it seems like you may have underestimated him. It turns out that Johnny Cage was one of the rare few you had met who could back up their arrogance. Bully for you.

        Furthermore, this shithead was fighting dirty! Well, okay—technically he wasn’t fighting dirty. He was just talking after all, and there’s nothing wrong or “illegal” with that. But it was a dirty tactic regardless, and it only infuriated you further with how helpless you were to try and block him out.

        You pivot sharply on one foot and  use the momentum to lift and swing the other around, aiming the kick at his head. You expect him to duck under such a high-reaching maneuver—maybe he’d follow up with a low sweep with your single foot planted on the ground—so you prepare yourself to counter this. See, before you went into acting, fighting was your primary activity; you won many tournaments and managed to make a decent living off of it. One of the main things you were known for were your notoriously powerful kicks; few would risk trying to outright block them rather than moving out of the way.

         You must have forgotten who you were up against; that was the only reasonable explanation for your short-sightedness. You were not distracted by him or anything like that, thank you very much. Johnny-fucking-Cage just lifts an arm and grabs your leg. With one hand. Like it was nothing.

         The impact creates a loud smack! that briefly leaves you dumbfounded; you felt the force of that blow against his palm, and it was enough to leave the skin there tingling unpleasantly. Johnny didn’t look phased in the least bit with a crooked smile dancing across his handsome features, just gripping your ankle. Casually. Like you weren’t currently being held in the near-vertical splits.

         Johnny took this fleeting opportunity to give you a quick once-over, and his smile only grew. “Nice legs,” he quipped, “bet they’d look a lot nicer over my shoulders.” You openly gaped at his brazenness, and he used your shock to his advantage, flipping you in one fell swoop. You grunted when your back hit the mat underneath you, but the heat that overwhelmed your person (caused by your anger and fury, obviously) had you back up in a flash.

         “Best two out of three,” you nearly seethed. Johnny had the audacity to appear as anything but intimidated. In fact, he seemed rather amused.

         “You know, you’re like, really hot when you’re mad.”

         You nearly flung yourself at him in a mindless bout of rage, but caught yourself only a split moment before you could make such a devastating mistake. A delightful idea quickly sprang to mind—two could play at this game. 

         You kept up the facade of indignation and outrage in order to trick Johnny into thinking that you actually were going to make that blind charge at him. You stepped off of your dominant foot, using the momentum to make a lunge for him. He braced himself to counter your head-on attack, but you feigned right at the last possible second, swiftly gripped his shoulder with your left hand, and brought your right leg in against the back of his knee to buckle it. Johnny was quick to recover, though, keeping enough of his balance to twist and grapple with you as his leg nearly gave out. 

         Ah, so it was time for plan B.

         Before he could finish off the move, you brought your face right up to his, making sure that the two of you were making eye contact, and looked at him with sensual purpose. It was almost enough to disarm him, so to ensure you had the upper hand, you threw him another curveball with a breathy, “I wonder if you fuck as good as you fight.” 

         That did the trick. Johnny’s mind was sent reeling with your seemingly out-of-pocket comment, and you jumped at the chance to knock him flat on his ass. Johnny got the wind knocked from him as he landed with a resounding thump. Not wasting a minute, you straddled yourself across his hips and held his wrists against the floor mat. While Johnny had more raw strength than you, you hoped that the KO would leave him dizzy enough to keep him subdued.

         “Ha! Gotcha!” you barked out in triumph. Johnny just blinked up at you in a daze as his response. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle the taste of your own medi-” you had cut yourself off when you felt something stiff beneath your pelvis. ‘What…? Wait, is he…’

         “Are you hard right now?!” you squawked incredulously. Johnny just shrugged his shoulders and gave you an audacious smirk, as if to say, ‘Uh, yeah I guess so. What about it?’ You were flabbergasted. “I can not believe you right now!” You released his wrists and made to get up, but he grabbed your hips before you could get away. Damn it, his body was so warm, and…holy shit he felt big.

         “Woah now, hang on just a tick,” he spoke like he was trying to soothe a startled horse. This fucking asshole! Why, just why did you have to fall for him? “It is very difficult not to pop a boner when I’m getting up close and personal to the most gorgeous person I know,” he spoke with an immense amount of charm and a surprising measure of sincerity. Your eyes widened comically before you squinted at him with a healthy amount of suspicion. 

         “Oh, really now? And I don’t suppose you’ve used that line with every other person you’ve taken to bed, hm?”

         Johnny just sighed like he was the exasperated one here. “Darling, I’ve been laying it on thick for half a year now. There’s no way I’d still be after you just to get into your pants.” He looked at you with this sort of ‘duh’ expression on his face, like he couldn’t possibly understand your confusion. “I mean, don’t get me wrong: you’ve got just the kind of body that I love,” he added, and you nearly clocked him then and there, but you relaxed again as he spoke further, “but I’ve come to really like spending time with you. There’s never a day that I don’t look forward to working with you on set, you know.” And, just like that, you felt like the stupidest person on the planet for denying yourself something that you evidently could have had for a long time now. 

         You hung your head low and shook it from side to side in disappointment of yourself. You fool. You buffoon. You absolute imbecile. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Johnny took this the wrong way, looking offended, and opened his mouth to say something. However, you were quick to shut him up with a short yet firm kiss of which he wasted no time in returning. He ground his hips against yours in short, desperate thrusts like there would never be another chance to do so, and you eagerly mirrored his movements like they might be your last. Without warning, he rolled the two of you over to flip your positions. Sprawled out beneath him with your hands held beneath his own, Johnny thought you looked like a dream.

         “By the way, I think you’ll find that not only do I fuck as good as I fight, but I fuck like I fight, too—hard n’ fast,” he intoned in a voice nearly an octave deeper. 

         You squirmed in anticipation at his words, and retorted with equal huskiness, “let’s see it then.”

[n3ptoonz]

When you added Kenshi to the “wall kiss” post and you even inputted Sento’s spirit… it gave me an idea. I don’t know if this counts as monster fucking lol

I was wondering if it would be possible for you to write a threesome featuring Ghost Sento and Kenshi. Sento seems to have some sentience, though I'm not sure how exactly it operates. In the cutscenes, for example, it did save Kenshi. Thus, given that Sento and Kenshi have a telepathic link and Kenshi has feelings for the reader, it's possible that Sento feels a "pull" towards the reader. Im just trying to justify why it would be possible �� When I play them and I see how in sync they are, it makes me want to be between them lol, like sirs I have 2 holes. This is assuming Sento's spirit possesses genitalia, but for the sake of fiction why not. I’m sorry if this is long or weird!🙏

not weird at all i am HAPPY to do this. it reminds me of the starjota x reader fic i wrote a while back lmaooo

whenever characters have abilities like that it always gets me thinking. i just CANT help myself 😝

inappropriate use of sento/spirits blurb with kenshi takahashi

cck-warming and face fcking mentioned, sento referred to by name as its own entity instead of saying spirit a bunch of times, i can't take myself seriously for the life of me like why do i get so giddy and nervous when i write LMAOO

DEFINITELY in for double penetration territory. i mean, the kinds of internal signals kenshi gets whenever he's around you are pretty intense. his thoughts go from normal to turbo horny in a split second. although with the way his was feeling he wanted to get a lil creative

there you were in sento's lap and warming the fantom feeling of what would be a dick, caged in its hold so strong you didn't even need to be tied up. your fingers ran cold from the lack of use while kenshi did what he pleased with your mouth; all of your senses came to life with every thrust. sento released you for a second, pulling your arms behind you to hold them in place with one hand and the other just caressed different parts of your bare body.

if he was busy but at home, and you were particularly in need of some satisfaction, look no further. sento's got your back, literally. in a sense sento was like his inner thoughts. so if it had you pinned down in prone and going to town on you, you can safely assume kenshi would be doing exactly that if he didn't have shit to do.

one more thing...since sento is an entity, it can shapeshift as well. bigger, smaller, taller, shorter, and you can ask for just about anything for fun. sento's love for you is only as strong as kenshi, so when you find yourself getting tossed around by some giant spirit with a giant cawk, everybody say thank you kenshi!

side note i think it would be funny if he had x-ray vision with sento so it just randomly makes you appear as butt ass naked in front of kenshi meanwhile you have a full outfit on LMAOO

a/n edit: feel free to send in asks like this y'all! they're quick and easy, very fun to write too <3

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello again Steph! I actually love long fics and especially series. I wanted to know whether you could suggest me some. Feels like an addict though 😅 whenever I complete a series or a particularly long fic, it fills me with a longing. I don't know how to manage these all.😐

Hi Lovely!!!!

First off, I know you sent this like MONTHS (maybe a year?) ago, and I apologize because I saw this ask, and went "CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!!!" not realizing the SCOPE of what I just did to myself, LOL.

To start light, I've a TONNE of long fics, which you can check out on these lists below:

Single Chapter Fics Over 20K

Novella Length Fics: 20 to 25K (Oct 2020)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K (Aug. 2019)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K Pt 2 (July 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 2 (May 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 3 (Jul 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 4 (Mar 2024)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 2 (Aug 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 3 [MFL’s] (Dec 2020)

Long Domestic Johnlock (50K+ w.) (March 2023)

Novel-Length, Not-So-Angsty Recs for Newbies

Now for the challenge! I went through ALL my bookmarks, pulled all the fics that are part of series, and then made NEW entries specifically for Series of Fics, and I am currently putting together the MONSTER list that will be the MFL list.

This is what took so long!! I had to RE-FILE all my bookmarks that were part of series,

All the series on this list have fics I have read in them, but NOT NECESSARILY read the entire series, so take that as you will. And another heads up, in these entries below, when I mark "Series WiP" that ONLY means that the series was marked as incomplete on the Works page, chances are all the stories in the series are complete and can still be read in full.

AND FINALLY, because you asked for "Long fics" (and because I have too many links on this post to post it), I pulled out all the fic series that, as whole, jumped over 50K so you have endless hours of series goodness! So.... Enjoy???

Note, I'll be posting the short-series list next week, and as always, if you have a series you want to share, let me know and I'll add it to the monster MFL list I'm putting together. This list is ONLY for bookmarked series and will NOT be added to!!! Sorry!!!

Hope y'all enjoy!

====

FIC SERIES Pt 1: Bookmarked Full & Oneshot Series Over 50K

The Pieces that Fall to Earth Series by Itsallfine (M, 50,188+ w. across 2 works || Series WIP || Post-S4, Epistolary, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Family, Coming Out, Questioning Sexuality, Love Confessions, Implied Alcohol Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Internalized Homophobia, Developing Relationship, Past Abuse,, Happy Endings, Fluff) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most.

The Homecoming Series by sussexbound (M, 51,744 w. across 12 stories, WIP || Domestics, PTSD, Love Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling, Jealousy, Family Issues) – Sometimes home is all you need. After three years of horror, betrayals, and crushing loss, John and Sherlock find their way back home to one another, and together find new footing in a world that has changed forever.

When to Let Go Series by KendylGirl (M, 55,248+ w. across 6 works || Series WiP || S1/S2 Compliant, Reverse Reichenbach, Angst, Friendship/Love, Friends to Lovers, Sacrifice, Forgiveness, References to Torture, Bed Sharing, Regret, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Undercover Missions, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Humour, Romance, Violence, Protective Johnlock, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship) – What if it were John who had to die to thwart Moriarty's plans? John's supposed death shatters Sherlock, and when he returns, it will challenge the pair to forge a path of forgiveness, to peace, and to find a way back to each other.

Lock and Key Series by 221b_hound (E, 59,509+ w. across 14 works || Series WiP || Post-HLV, Tattoos, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Hand Jobs, Captain John, Cuddling, Sherlock's Scars, Possessive Johnlock, Exhibitionism / Voyeurism, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Masturbation, Sherlock in Panties, PWP, Dirty Talk, Sexual Fantasies, Restraints, Photographs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Assorted Kinks, Sherlock in a Sheet, Sex on Furniture, Domestic Fluff) – John has been back at Baker Street for a year, following the debacle that ended in Mary's death. Things are good. Back almost to what they used to be. Sherlock might wish they were something else, now, but he only has himself to blame, he thinks. It's too late, now, for the things he first denied before he'd ruined any chances he might have had. Sherlock also thinks that people who get tattoos are idiots. But perhaps he's about to learn a thing or two, not least of which might be it's not as late as he thinks it is.

Earthly Pomp (Is But a Dream) Series by LoloLolly (M, 60,806+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || Post S4, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Serbia, Alternating POV, Scars, Love Confessions, Family, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Angst, Whump, Sherlock's Past, Parentlock) – Sherlock had buried the past. Shut Serbia away in the attic of his mind palace. Muddy footprints at a heinous crime scene, however, have led him right back to old enemies. And right back to captivity. For God’s sake, Mycroft.

SpaceBois go to Space Series by elldotsee (E, 62,028+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || Astronaut / Space AU || Scientist Sherlock, Biomedical Engineer John, Sherlock is William, Astronauts, Close Quarters, Shy Sherlock, Space Travel, Mutual Pining, Chemistry, Developing Relationship, Minor Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Whump, Flirting, Angst with Happy Ending, Mars Colonization, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Zero-Gravity Sex, Alternating POV, UST/URT) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters?

An Experiment in Empathy Series by belovedmuerto (T, 62,397 w. across 13 stories || Empath AU || Psychic John, Psychic-by-Proxy Sherlock, Empathy, Psychic Bond, Romance / Bromance) – In which John is an empath, Sherlock is Sherlock, and an epic bromance happens. In the aftermath of The Great Game, John creates an unexpected bond between himself and Sherlock. Now they have to learn how to deal with it. John is better at this than Sherlock is.

Doctors and detectives Series by PlainJane (E, 63,302+ w. across 5 works || Series WiP || Omegaverse || Sex Therapist John, Virgin Sherlock, Alpha Sherlock, Omega John, Anal/Oral Sex, Frottage, Bonding, Hand Jobs, Mpreg, Miscarriage, Mating Cycles/Heats, Mourning, Childbirth Trauma, Angst, OMCs, Happy Ending, Unplanned Pregnancy, Dildos, Anal Fingering, Social Issues, Babysitting) – Sherlock is a young alpha with an aversion to his cycle. John is a gender medicine specialist. Nothing could possibly go wrong...

Nitroglycerine Series by TSylvestris (E, 64,108+ w. across 2 works || Series WiP || Case Fic, Meddling Mycroft, Developing Relationship, Drama, Romance, Humour, Oral / Anal Sex, Fingering, Hand Jobs, Light Mystrade) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed.

Bedtime Universe by Liketheriver (M, 65,173 w. across 2 stories || Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Angst, Humour, Case Fic) – John's POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. 

Watches 'Verse by bendingsignpost (E, 66,905 w. across 2 works || Magical Realism, Reality Distortion, Angst, Partial MCD, BAMF John) – First, he is shot in Afghanistan. Second, he wakes to a phone call in Chelmsford, Essex. Third is pain, fourth is normalcy, fifth is agony and sixth is confusion. By the eighth, he's lost track. (John-centric AU) 

things fairy tales are made of Series by darcylindbergh (E, 67,761 w. across 7 works || Ficlet Collections, Fluff and Angst, Christmas, First Kiss / Time, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Engagement, Banter, Blow Jobs, Insecurity, Dancing, Nightmares, Cooking, Alcohol, Cuddling, Engagement, Happy Endings) – Fairy tales are stories, and this one starts with a wish.

The Time Traveller's Flatmate Series by orithea (E, 68,674+ w. across 4 works || Time Travel AU || Developing Relationship, Threesome, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Selfcest) – Sherlock Holmes suffers from Chrono-Displacement: simply put, he time travels unpredictably, against his will. John Watson lives his life the normal way. Or as normal as it can possibly be considering that he first meets Sherlock at the age of six.

Realigning Gravity Series by Raina_at (E, 69,159+ w. across 2 works || Series WiP || Sci-Fi / 24th Century Future AU || Post TRF, Cybernetic John, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Developing Relationship, Anniversary, Case Fic, Happy Endings, Doctor John) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them.

The Sweetest Things Series by alexxphoenix42 (E, 76,894+ w. across 2 works || Series WIP || Shopkeeper AU || Alternate First Meeting, Beekeeping, Honey, Romance, Awkward First Time Sex, Body Self Consciousness, Sussex, Fluff, Jealousy, Coming Out, Misunderstandings, Case Fic, Angst with Happy Ending) – In an alternate universe, Sherlock is busy keeping to himself, tending his bees, and selling lovely jars of honey when a soldier limps into his life quite unexpectedly.

Seven Moons Series by ladyflowdi (E, 92,824+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP ||Fantasy Omegaverse AU || Non Con Drug Use, Knotting, Heat Cycles, Forced / Arranged Marriage, Forced Heat, Mpreg, Slavery, Pregnant Sex, Loss of Virginity, Miscarriage Mention, Childbirth, Male Lactation, Breast Feeding, Confidence Issues, Kidnapping, Betrayal, Blood, Graphic Labour/Delivery, War, Family) –  “This is happiness?” John asks, utterly heartsick, holding up his wrists and rattling the chains. “You’ve sold me for six gold mines and protection along the northern border.”

Northern Light Series by Minxchester (E, 93,412+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || Security Guard AU || Security Guard John, Rape / Non-Con, Blackmail, Forced Marriage, Captivity, Assorted Pairings, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Non-Con Touching, Eventual Happy Ending) – Recently returned from the war and struggling to adjust back to civilian life, John Watson is given an unexpected opportunity when he's hired as a security guard by Charles Magnussen on the recommendation of his former comrade, Sergeant Murray. Before long, he finds himself assigned the unusual task of serving as personal bodyguard to Magnussen's reclusive husband. But not everything is as it seems in this household--and John gets a lot more than he bargained for looking after Sherlock Holmes.

31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 Series by distantstarlight (E, 96,540 w. across 31 stories || Prompt Ficlets, Assorted Kinks, PWP) – A collection in response to the 31 Days of Porn Challenge issued by AtlinMerrik! Thanks for doing that because this has been buttload of fun (that joke never gets old). All stories will be brief stand-alone one-shots.

The Ravine Valley Series by SilentAuror (E, 98,196 w. across 2 works || Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Sex Trafficking, Case Fics, Group Therapy, Awkwardness, Past Loss of Child, Bed Sharing, Wedding, Angst, Romance, First Times, Massages) – Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly nine months after series 4.

The Book of Silence/Rosa Felicia Series by SilentAuror (E, 99,752+ w. across 2 works || Series WIP || S4 / Post-S4 Fix It, New Relationship, Slow Burn, Kissing, Virgin Sherlock, Cases, First Time, Domesticity, Sex Toys, Cooking, Rosie Watson, Part-Time Parentlock, Bisexuality, Family Drama) – As spring blooms in London, John and Sherlock begin to take new cases and cautiously negotiate this new phase of life with John living at Baker Street again. Despite how well it's all going, John struggles to forgive himself for the way he treated Sherlock following Mary’s death as well as trying to figure out how to finally put his long-time feelings for Sherlock into words.

Mathematical Proof Series by Bitenomnom (E, 108,481 w. across 50 works || Mutual Pining, Assorted Timelines, Drabbles, Mathematics, Kissing, Humour, Friendship / Love, Past Relationships) – Drabbles written using the content of math class meetings from that day as prompts -- mostly Johnlock, mostly separate from one another -- in a variety of formats, points of view, etc.

The Baker Street Nativity Verse Series by SwissMiss (E, 109,655 w. across 3 works || Nativity! Fusion || Teacher Sherlock, Assistant John, UST, Trust Issues, Kids, Music, Anal Fingering Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Kissing, Swearing, Slow Burn, Pining, Shopping, Siblings, Friendship) – Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Includes main story, DVD extras, and 24-part Advent calendar drabbles.

Baker Farms Series by CodenameMeretricious (E, 111,042+ w. across 2 works || Series WiP || Sports Equestrian AU || Fluff, Angst, Humour, Show Jumping, Horses, Horse Groomer John, Event Rider Sherlock) – Sherlock is a top eventing rider currently training at Baker Farms. John is the new groom who's been told to steer clear of the surly rider and his horses.

between each beat Series by darcylindbergh & hudders-and-hiddles(E, 114,417+ w. across 2 works || Series WIP || Epistolary, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Marriage, Alcohol, Drug Use, Missing Scenes, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years.

STATIC Series by patternofdefiance(E, 116,923+ w. across 2 works || Series WiP || Future AU || Cybernetic Augmentation, Discrimination, Developing Relationship, Cyborg John, Body Dysmorphia, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Dissociation, Sci-Fi Violence/Goal, Body Modification, Amputation, Angst, Misunderstandings) – The stigma against human augmentation has never lifted – not after the initial kinks in the operating software and hardware integrations resulted in some curious physical and personality…defects. Despite the lives it’s subsequently saved, the tests the procedures have passed, and the unending barrage of PR stunts and ad campaigns. And then John had gone and got himself shot, and science had taken him in like an overbearing mother, like a charity case, and hadn’t taken ‘no’ for an answer, hadn’t wanted ‘no’ for an answer.

The Swan Triad Series by Pennin_Ink (T, 121,660 w. across 3 works || Swan Lake AU || Magical / Fairy Tale AU, Romance, Falling in Love, Pining, Psychological Torture, Transformation) – Sherlock and John grow up spending every summer together. Their mothers' attempts to play matchmaker only fuel their mutual resentment and scorn. But then, one summer.

25 Days of Johnlock Series by prettysailorsoldier (E, 136,961 w. across 13 works || Random Prompts, Various AUs, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss) – 25 Days of festive prompts submitted by all of you! Every Christmas trope imaginable will make an appearance, as well as a few surprises, so be sure to check the tags for all the specifics!

Just Johnlock Series by Calais_Reno (M, 137,300+ w. across 32 works || Series WiP || Coming Out, Drunken Confessions, Alternating POV, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Fluff, Jealousy, Past Relationships, Awkward Romances, Suicidal Thoughts, Blogging, Assorted Timelines, Angst, Fluff, Sherlock's Mind Palace, Mutual Pining, Hurt / Comfort, Rescue Missions, Deductions, Cases, Reunions, Birthdays, Oblivious John, Developing Relationship, Assorted Stories) – Standalone short stories occurring within the BBC Sherlock Universe. In most cases, the stories are not related and can be read in any order. A few what-ifs and alternate first meetings. Some fluff, some angst, all happy endings.

The Colors 'Verse Series by Quesarasara (E, 144,562+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || Soul Mate AU || Colour Bonding, Angst, Pining, Cases, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Parenting, Fluff and Angst, John’s PTSD, Romance, Alternating POV) –  Everyone on earth is born with eyes that see in black, white, and an endless series of greys. When you meet your soulmate, you finally see the world in color. We're all searching for the person who brings color to our lives. John and Sherlock are no exception.

Baseball Series by earlgreytea68 (M, 146,073 w. across 4 works || Baseball Player AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU.

Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe by abundantlyqueer, boxoftheskyking, neenya, seiji, suchanadorer (E, 155,485+ w. across 25 works || Series WIP || Military AU || Afghanistan, Soldier John, Thriller, War Stories, Assorted OCs) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John?

Drawn to Stars Series by Silvergirl (E, 164,360+ w. across 5 works || Series WiP || S4 Fix It, Original Characters, Sherlock/OMC, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Italy, Mutual Misunderstandings, First Kiss / Time, Alternating POVs, Angst With Happy Ending) – After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being.

The Summer Boy Series by khorazir (M, 168,598+ w. across 4 works || Series WiP || Post-TAB, Flashbacks, Kid Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Bullying, Sussex, Grief/Mourning, First Kiss/Time, Folklore, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, BAMF John, Kidnapping, Past Torture, Developing Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Bed Sharing, Caring John/Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock.

Skeletons Series by flawedamythyst (T, 174,262 w. across 3 works || Nightmare Before Christmas Fusion ||  Implied Character Death) – Sherlock's refusal to talk about his past hides far more skeletons than John could ever have guessed at. Halloween-esque AU.

Mise en Place Series by azriona (M, 181,300+ w. across 7 works || Series WiP || Restaurant AU || Cooking, Celebrity Chef Sherlock, Restaurant TV Show, Camp Fires, Brothers, Kissing, Baking, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes.

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,100 w. across 45 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They've been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

Conductivity Series by liriodendron (E, 207,367 w. across 7 works || TRF / Post TRF, ReunionCanon Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Friendship, Romance, Sexual Tension, First Kiss/Time, Synesthesia, Power Dynamics, Self-Harm, Drug Use, Case Fic, Est. Rel., References to Drug Use, Homophobic Language, Religious Content, Intercrural Sex, Unrequited Love, Angst, References to Suicide, Injury, Anal, Dub. Con, BDSM, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Sex, Suicide, Grief/Mourning, Break Up) – In which Sherlock Holmes locates his heart, John Watson learns what it's like to burn, and there is no darkness that cannot be made bright.

Care And Companionship Series by elldotsee and J_Baillier (E, 209,820+ w. across 5 works || Series WiP || Me Before You Fusion || Angst, Romance, Depression, Medical Ethics, Insecure Sherlock, Serious Illness, Permanent Injury, Sherlock Whump, BAMF John, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Physical Rehabilitation, Medical Realism, Assisted Suicide, Awkward Sex, Friends to Lovers, Alcoholism, John Whump, PTSD, Anxiety, Family Drama, Caretaker John, Alternating POVs) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Fallen Series by Belladonna_Q and mamishka (T, 222,094 w. across 3 works || Winglock || Angel!John, Angels & Demons, Faes, Christianity, Changelings) – In a world where myth, mystery, and the supernatural flourish beneath the veneer of modern civilization, Sherlock is a master of magic as well as science and deduction. But there are some things that he cannot see, riddles he cannot unravel, even when they walk right beside him in the form of one John Watson…

Performance in a Leading Role Series by Mad_Lori (E, 223,707+ w. across 9 stories || Series WiP || Actor AU || Show Business, Romance, Coming Out, Secret Relationship, Meta Fic, Hollywood, Interviews, Academy Awards, Relationship Beards) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world?

Breakable Not Broken Series by MissDavis (E, 227,442+ w. across 5 works || Series WiP || Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Permanent Injury, Mental Health Issues, Depression, Drug Use) – After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it's supposed to be.

Hollowverse Series by ScopesMonkey (E, 228,876 w., || Post-TRF / Post-Hiatus, Reunion, Cases, Romance, Mystery, Friendship, Developing Relationship, First Kiss/Time, Rimming, Oral/Anal, Survival, Hand Jobs, Amnesia, Showers, Injury, Teasing, Nightmares, Travelling) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home.

John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times Series by wendymarlowe (E, 247,051+ w. across 45 works || Series WiP || Short Stories, Assorted Tags with Assorted Genres, PWP) – A collection of short imaginings of how Sherlock and John might finally allow their relationship to become physical. Don't be afraid of the giant cloud of tags - each fic stands alone and you can read them in any order.

Tennis Series by Jupiter_Ash (E, 249,198+ w. across 6 works || Series WiP || Tennis AU || French Sherlock, Angst) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything?

Johnlock Smut (with Feels) Series by CarmillaCarmine (E, 270,569+ w. across 33 works || Series WiP || Assorted Tags across Various Genres, Stand-Alone Ficlets) – Here are all my Johnlock smut fics - all can be read separately, as stand-alone. Enjoy!

Secrets and Revelations Series by Hisstah (E, 295,909+ w. across 3 works || Guides & Sentinels Omegaverse AU || Graphic Violence, Bonding, BAMF John/Sherlock, Anal / Oral, Alpha Sentinel Sherlock, Omega Guide John, Case Fics, Mpreg, Fluff and Angst) – Dr John Watson has some major secrets that he's kept from his flatmate, Alpha Sentinel Sherlock Holmes. Now the Sentinel Tower is after him. Can John stay out of their hands until he can reveal his secrets to Sherlock?

Forethought and Fire Series by 7PercentSolution & shelleysprometheus (E, 352,650+ w. across 5 works || Series WiP || Johnlock and MorMor || Original Characters, Case Fics, Alternating POV, Bisexual John, Gay Sherlock, Travelling, Developing Relationships, , Revenge, Betrayal, Blood and Torture, Trust, Bereavement, Entrapment, Extortion, Suicidal Ideation) – "The real great perfumers are not perfumers, they are the bees, the winds, the rivers and other things that carry and mix scents in space" ~ Serge Lutens.

Happiness Awaits Series by Mssmithlove (E, 377,160+ w. across 19 works || Series WiP || Assorted AUs || Short Stories, Assorted Tags Across Assorted Genres, Happy Endings) – This is a collection of delightfully sappy short stories. There will be love, sex, angst, first meetings, first kisses, first times, teenlock, unilock, ANYlock really, and they will have all the feels one can have. Every story will be a different length, some longer, some shorter. Every story will be different and as of now the only theme is that they will all have happy endings.

The English job Series by Hotaru_Tomoe (E, 466,195+ w. across 48 works || Series WiP || Assorted Relationships, Assorted Standalone Stories, Assorted Tags Across Various Genres) – Basically where I store all the English fics I write and the translations from my native language, Italian.

The Fallen Series by Engazed (E, 628,898+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || Post-TRF Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Rape/Non-Con, Friendship, Angst, Gore, Detective Story) – This is the story of The Fall. When Sherlock chose to jump off the roof of St Bartholomew's Hospital to save his friends, he could not have anticipated the devastating and far-reaching consequences. He wasn't the only one who fell that day.

THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON Series by skyefullofstars (M, 647,634+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || Angst, Violence, Non-Consensual Drugging, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Torture, Drug Addiction, Kidnapping/Abduction, Disturbing Imagery, Killing, Past Child Abuse, Suicide Attempt, Homophobic Language, Minor Character Death, Espionage, Psychological Trauma, BAMF John/Sherlock, PTSD Sherlock, Murder Mystery) – While Sherlock grapples with his new-found feelings for John Watson, he faces a very real threat: John's kidnapping and shooting at the hands of James Moriarty. And the knowledge that the love of his life is being used to test an addictive drug - at the risk of John's sanity and life.

Sketchy Series by serpentynka (E, 696,806 w. across 5 works || Post TRF Canon Divergence, Career Change, Love Story/Romance, Slow Burn, Art, Illness / Heath Issues, Coming of Age, Established Relationship, Porn With Feelings, Philosophy, Portraiture, John Whump, Switching, First Time, Retirement, Travel, Possessive John, Jealous Sherlock, Marriage, Cases) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl -- but cannot be ignored. Oh, and...porn.

Unwind Series by illwick (E, 741,012+ w. across 36 works || Series WiP || Light BDSM / Power Dynamics, Dom!John/Sub!Sherlock, Switchlock, Hair-Pulling, Sensory Deprivation, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Handcuffs, Overstimulation, Forced Orgasm, Prostate Milking / Massage, Rough Sex, Biting, Food Sex, Consensual Kink, Sex on Everything, Chair Bondage, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Oral/Anal, Fingering, Sex Toys, Captain John, Establish Relationship, Bratty Sherlock, Greedy Sherlock, Military Kink, Uniform Kink, Gunplay, Roleplay, Shower Sex, Oral Fixation, Praise Kink, Dry Humping, Facials, Dog Tags, Edgeplay, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Threesomes, Homophobia, Size Kink, Past Relationships, Past Drug Use, Double Penetration, Angst/Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Panties) –  John and Sherlock unwind after a case. 

[gooselycharm]

hi there! i'd just like to say that your kris and noelle "something else" comic has been driving me insane /pos and i'd love to hear more of your thoughts on those two!! their relationship is one of my favorite things in deltarune and your comic just got everything about them so right 🙏

thank you for reading "something else"! oh man, [more of] my thoughts on kris+noelle.... i sure got some of those.

this was one of the first tweets i made after finishing chapter 2 nearly... freaking 2 years ago. and basically i've just been saying that over and over again in different ways because i'm still not tired of the concept yet and probably wont ever be LOL. i'm obsessed with how badly the narrative wants to force them into an easily categorizable dynamic, especially the romantic one in snowgrave. the literal THORN RING, the more possessive dialogue options, spamton calling noelle a side chick LOL... it all creates this unnerving visual novel bad end atmosphere that feels manufactured by someone who's only ever learned about romance through secondhand sources. they're two queer teens trying to navigate their changing relationship with the only role models they know being their parents' own failed heterosexual marriages. they're so divorced² (divorced children of divorce).

i also like that for being so tragically doomed coded they can be funny! both in a dark humor way and also like, genuinely funny, like the stories of them as kids with kris covering themselves in ketchup and hiding under noelle's bed lmao. i mean there's even something funny about the romantic trappings of the snowgrave route, like trying to put wedding cake embellishments on a crime scene... you know, funny like kids trying on their parents clothes but they're too big and for some reason they're also crying and covered in blood? um.

i'm also SOOOO interested to see how snowgrave will continue in chapter 3! i really liked the hopeful note chapter 2 ended on (well. i took it as hopeful anyway). there's that bit where noelle is talking to herself and she says something like "recently kris has been acting so strange and no one else has noticed... i have to figure out why" and then kris jumpscares her LOL but i think i took that one line and really ran with it. noelle really is the one who knows kris best and despite how scared she is, she's still determined to help them... i like the little subversion of victim/hero going on, the implication that kris might be the one who needs rescuing.

the additional story/lore that came with the spamton sweepstakes made me CRAAAZYYYYY like my GOD... it's cute that noelle likes glitches/creepypasta when kris is kinda a walking creepypasta <3 also, god, noelle falling asleep listening to kris playing piano in the other room... there's so much like. wistfulness and nostalgia and this like... distant/detached intimacy packed into how noelle narrates that scene. it's kind of funny how much there is to dig into when like on a surface level they're just fairly regular childhood friends who grew apart LMAO they're extremely deep to me okay...

on another note i guess i do ship them? i like their dynamic whether it's platonic or romantic (the best is a weird mix of both 👍). it just can't be boring LOL like... this is one ship where trying to apply cookie cutter tropes to them really falls flat and the game is ahead of you on that anyway. in terms of romantically shipping them, i honestly don't think they're doomed to repeat patterns forever... i think they could actually be good for each other! but that's not really the aspect of their relationship that interests me akldjf;alk;sdg maybe i will make 60 page comic of kriselle going to couples counseling some other time

ANYWAY i'm going to cut myself off here, because i really could go on forever lol. i'll give you some links for further reading though

hellspawnmotel's deltarune art

lula pillowbug99's deltarune art

this art by raspbearis which features prominently in my internal kriselle bible

my own unfinished kriselle playlist

my own essay on gender & allegory in deltarune if for some reason u are not tired of hearing me talk yet

okay bye now & thanks again for reading my comic!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[strawbubbysugar]

Coming off anon for this one cuz oh boy it’s theory time and I’m feeling very silly

(I just woke up at the time of writing so sorry for any typos, rambling, or confusion lol)

Alright! So, I’ve been thinking a lot about the existence of Eclipse and the theories popping up about them lately mainly: that Clipsey is a recycle of Moon’s broken body. Which I’ll touch up on first.

The issue that was presented with Moon by this definitely-not-at-all-suspicious engineer was that his processing unit was smashed and ‘unsalvageable’ (which we know to not be true), and aside from the obvious injuries cause by Trap, no major problems with Moon’s case are brought up. His *internals* were destroyed, aside from his battery which was reused.

Continuing forward, the SOMA comparisons. Reading through a plot synopsis of the game, I can’t help but link the destruction of Moon-man’s processing unit and Simon’s brain injury together a bit. Considering that that is the partial cause for Sun and Moon combining and the reason for Simon getting his brain scan copy. Both undergoing heavy ‘brain’ damaging and being brought to very odd circumstances because of it.

With the assumption that this is *actually* Moon’s body, “Uploaded into a modified corpse” is a *very* apt description for what Eclipse is. They’re a copy of someone (two people technically) inhabiting the dead body of the original, almost like Pry/ncess in a weird way.

That’s where the comparisons for the game and Bethroned end to my knowledge however, so time to move onto the more ‘looking too far into things’ section of my theory,

The design and color scheme!

Starting off, I noticed that the coloring of the Sun side on their face was reused from *post incident* which makes sense, that’s how Sun would’ve been seen last before running away with Pry/ncess, the eyes obviously match up as well.

Though the tops of the rays have noticeably sharper points to them if that’s anything at all, it’s impossible to draw the something the same way every single time after all so that can be easily written off.

The same can be said for Moon as well, the coloring of his face matches up with theirs, however his other features are… very much not intact. Very close but not quite.

The coloring and patterning of the hat is entirely different, the cape maintains the same coloring but the stars on Eclipse’s are much smaller and more faded than Moon’s as well.

What’s throwing me off though is the eyes, for both post incident and for Eclipse the right eye gained a black sclera, Moon’s pupil turned white, but Eclipse’s stayed red.

If Eclipses body was Moon’s then this could’ve happened naturally, the eye could’ve simply underwent the same damage/change as it did with Moon’s form in Sun’s body. Though do to this being his actual form the pupil could’ve kept its regular eye color.

Their lack of a mouth could also mean that they can’t speak, another drastic contrast in characterization to our boys. From the artwork we’ve been shone of them they see, cunning, clever, but very, VERY distressed. (Be a bit weird to consciously design eye-bags on your new king after all, right? That’s their own fault.)

And for my last point, their crown and the Opal.

This is the most obvious ‘combination’ in their design, it gets the rounded bottom of Sun’s and the gem formation and top shape of Moon’s. When overlayed on top of each other you also get similar colors to Eclipse’s crown, though more cleaned up and appealing on the eyes.

The gem in this crown has been confirmed to be an opal (if my memory serves me right I can’t find the post anywhere to confirm, tumblr search engine is bleh)

There were a few pieces of folklore and symbolism relating to the opal that I found particularly interesting with what little we know about Eclipse.

Mainly, it representing loyalty and goodluck as well as royalty. A lot of other interpretations I found pointed to it granting foresight and being responsible for prophecy, something you’d certainly want your king to have after the huge string of ‘bad luck’ that befell both of them.

Loyalty to prevent another incident like Sun choosing Pry/ncess over his kingdom and trusting them first, foresight and prophecy so that they can avoid incident like King Freddy dying and, well, Sun and Moon’s incident. and royalty is obvious.

Though the loyalty interpretation and foresight/intelligence can vary widely in intention depending on if Chica or PeePaw (maybe both, stares at Trap) is responsible for their existence. Cant speak that much on it before they’ve even appeared in the story.

Alright so what am I getting at with all this? Well, put simply, Eclipse’s design and name are very very intentional and combining the Princes was clearly in mind when they were (re)built by whoever their creator is. I believe that they attempted to program, be it from scratch with parts of Moon’s processor or with some kind of backup of Sun *somehow*, Sun into Moon’s body and combine their ai together in order to make a new heir.

Again, can’t find the message, but Eclipse’s existence was described as ‘decidedly uncomfortable’ which is very understandable if this were true, having you and your brother’s brain and memories COMPLETELY sewn together, not even with semi separate minds or personalities like with the actual Sun and Moon, would be very, VERY lacking in the ‘good for your mental health’ department, especially if you knew you aren’t the original ‘you’, just a clone, a do-over, a combination of two other failures that you need to clean the mess from up.

Put simply, I believe Eclipse is a combination of Sun and Moon, but not THE combination of Sun and Moon. If that makes any sense. They’re a replication of both placed inside Moon’s old body and used to fill the empty spot on the throne and potentially-maybe-hopefully-not help Afton.

Hands down my favourite ask ever. Like oh my god you did it. You got everything. You caught all the little secrets I put in and I’m flabbergasted. WOW. I AM. SO HAPPY HSFSG

THANK YOU FOR PUTTING SO SO SO MUCH TIME AND EFFORT AND ENERGY INTO THIS ANALYSIS BECAUSE I JUST. I MIGHT CRY. THIS MEANS SO MUCH TO ME SOBS :;;

[solradguy]

Sol Badguy’s a war criminal?

Oh god yeah. I could write an essay on all the war crimes Sol Badguy has committed but I'm just gonna list off the big ones that can be quickly cited. The information on what counts as a "war crime" comes from the United Nations' website HERE.

Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court

Article 8 War Crimes

For the purpose of this Statute, ‘war crimes’ means: A. Grave breaches of the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949, namely, any of the following acts against persons or property protected under the provisions of the relevant Geneva Convention: I. Wilful killing III. Wilfully causing great suffering, or serious injury to body or health; IV. Extensive destruction and appropriation of property, not justified by military necessity and carried out unlawfully and wantonly;

Most of these come from Sol's post-Begin, pre-"Sol Badguy" era where he was hunting down labs doing Gear cell research or labs that Asuka himself may have been working at, which he blew up, or during the Crusades. He almost definitely did not have time to evacuate those buildings before destroying them and we have NO idea what all he got up to during the Crusades. If Ky has guilt over having to kill humans/his own men for the benefit of humanity as a whole, then Sol probably had to do some messed up shit too. Sources: Begin epilogue, GG World/Frederick

B. Other serious violations of the laws and customs applicable in international armed conflict, within the established framework of international law, namely, any of the following acts: VI. Killing or wounding a combatant who, having laid down his arms or having no longer means of defence, has surrendered at discretion

Sol kills a bounty that was surrendering and begging for his life right before the events of Missing Link. I forget where the officially localized source for this is atm, but it's in the Japanese Missing Link manual.

XI. Killing or wounding treacherously individuals belonging to the hostile nation or army; XII. Declaring that no quarter will be given;

He kills people with fire and with a blunt sword. The United Nations' The Convention on Certain Conventional Weapons has a whole thing on why incendiary weapons are bad: PROTOCOL ON PROHIBITIONS OR RESTRICTIONS ON THE USE OF INCENDIARY WEAPONS (PROTOCOL III)

I'm not sure where under any of the Conventions his Gear cell research falls, but that's probably covered by something somewhere. It ended up being used in multiple inhumane experiments on living human beings (Testament, Aria) and animals (GGBegin: bears, dogs, owls, crocodiles), and was the catalyst for a war that almost wiped out the entire human race. He wasn't directly responsible for that, but he certainly contributed to it.

One could probably argue in the case of the Gears he mercilessly slaughters too. They're shown to be fully sapient (or at least highly intelligent), and to have what seems to be a budding culture of their own. They've shown Sol sparing at least a few humanoid ones (Dizzy, Solaria) but he's killed a ton of the more monstrous ones. Source: Introduction to Metaphysics (GG2Overture Material Collection), Dr. Paradigm & his units in GG2 Overture, the Ganymede Gear settlement. Solaria is from Lightning the Argent.

In short: Sol Badguy is a war criminal.

This isn't a series called Innocent Gear though. Pretty much the entire cast has done one fucked up thing that would get them on trial at the United Nations. Sol Badguy's just one of the worst and I think a lot of people forget that there's a reason why he isolates and hates himself lol

[swollenbabyfat]

How did you come to draw and paint the way you do? What inspirations do you pull from? All of your art oozes with some strange, almost ethereal emotion I've not quite seen anywhere else, something similar to what I'd like to capture with my own works.

I’ve always had a bit of a hard time answering this bc like…I honestly think aesthetic/inspirational/taste stuff is a library you build up over your whole life, or maybe a closet that you try things on to see what does and doesn’t work for you. My biggest advice to this kinda stuff is to experiment a lot and take in a lot of media in a purposeful way, and try to actively apply things you like about said medias to your work. And don’t just consume stuff within your field, I take inspiration from a ton of stuff that isn’t art. I also recommend having somewhere to keep a kind of reserve of inspo, wether it be on tumblr or Pinterest or what have you.

So with that being said I’ll try to sum up what I can about myself.

I’m a horror lover, have been since I was (too) young. I’ve consumed a ton of horror movies, read a lot of books, and certainly have digested a lot of art about it. I am a bit of a haunted person haha, and I’ve always really attached myself to horror, and with some exception to just purely cute stuff I truly am always thinking about it with my work. I am not really aiming to make people feel comfortable with my stuff, in fact often the opposite, but many feel understood anyways which feels nice. I don’t think horror for horrors sake is always as fufilling to me, it always pulls from something internal that I’ve been wrestling with or are afraid of myself.

I am classically trained in fine art due to the kind of art program my highschool had (magnet program if that means anything to anyone), it was incredibly good and I always feel so lucky I got to go there. Bc of this I learned a lot of techniques in painting as well as the fundamental of art. I don’t think my art would be the way it is without this training, but I also think with how the internet is now you can probably do the same thing at your own pace, just have to be dedicating a decent amount of time and mental energy into it.

Bc of my highschool training I also learned about art history, which had a big impact on me, particularly renaissance, baroque, and rococo. Religious imagery as well had a huge impact on me, particularly catholic (probs cause we learned about it it the most). I would say doing master studies with these would be a huge help.

I would say it’s important to me that each “full” illustration tells a story of sorts, I can’t really help it, I’m a story teller at heart. I use a lot of symbolic imagery, I pull a lot from religious imagery but also within fruit, flowers, personal objects… I think “what am I trying to say with this work” and kind of go from there with what I choose. Make your own personal symbolism language.

There’s like this certainty digital painting aesthetic I really enjoy by niche furry artist lol, many of them really nsfw so I don’t feel comfortable linking to them. It’s like…highly detailed well rendered pieces that they make with literally one brush that is often without any kind of pen pressure, just layering things with opacity. It’s crazy and yeah idk they’re definitely up there in inspo for me.

I really really care about fashion. Lolita was my first love in terms of clothing, and I pull a ton of inspiration from it, but also a lot of other street styles and runways stuff. I like drama and frills.

I play with my art and stories in a way that I don’t know how to describe other than childlike. It’s important for me to do so in my process, but basically, I let my imagination run wild, I talk to my characters, I listen to music and think about them. A lot of my bigger pieces take a lot of time of me thinking about them ahead a time, I draw in my head a lot. Sketchbooks are a huge help in this.

I thiiiiiink that’s all I have to say for now…I could probably list a million things but this feels like a good core to start with. I hope it’s not too vague, but I’m always good to keep answering stuff like this if you wanna know about one part in depth.

[conceptofjoy]

afab transfem & on testosterone hal. your art has opened my eyes to a gender i have never thought of before. you have me questioning everything . im insane im feral help me

I LOVE TALKING ABOUT HAL'S GENDER here's link 2 post abt on T hal. she's a complicated character and her connection (or lack of, with her non existent body) with dirk is fascinating. its kind of hard to say that she's afab in the way that... OK HEAR ME OUT, i think being assigned x at birth is different than being assigned x by narrative.

dirk was ambn but also afab within earth's societal standards. this can tie in with dirk's internalized homophobia and the disconnect he has with being into guys but also not wanting to be referred to as gay. anyways about hal, she didn't appear into the story as anything BUT glasses, and only was assigned male (dirk) by the narrative. her struggle with gaining her own autonomy is sooo very trans allegorical.

the reason why i thought hal would have gone on T, lies in how the option was presented to her straight out of the session. partially because she wanted to look different than dirk but its mostly that she has internalized beliefs of still needing to be an ambn guy (dirk). puberty was a fuckin STRUGGLEEEE for her because of getting tossed on earth c as a bodily 13 yr old. while the last programmed memory she has of a body was of said 13 yr old body, the disconnect she has when she sees her peers compared to herself is staggering, making her feel temporally left behind. "ok everything will be better once i become red dirk again... why does that fill me with dread."

i think she'd enjoy being on T even after the gender revelation because of the idea that she's able to alter her body however she sees fit. she'd do some body mods too if roxy wouldn't keep stopping her lol (she does it eventually). i think she might have some difficulty with understanding what being a girl means because of the strider-serket gender extremes curse, but she'll get there eventually.

[kablamcore]

hey guys….. i redesigned moruka a tad bit….. (i wanted it to look a little more “zoralike”… idk it looked way too much like its in game counterpart)

anyways infodump below cut:

(also i already have been gushing about this fanfic for like. idk how long but uhhh most of the info was based off of this ig??? + the peepaw fanfic…)

8 years prior to the attack of the Calamity, Astor found Sakiru in the Spirit Temple, and introduced him to the Blights (who have personalities for some reason in this au…)

Moruka was just an infant at the time, too.

Sakiru grew close to the Temple Bosses very quickly, and they developed a “Grandfather-Grandchildren” dynamic.

I don’t know how the Temple Scourges/Blights lived for the 100 years it took for Link to awaken LMAOOOO (but im assuming it’s magic)

Because the Blights were conspiring with the Yiga Clan to resseruct Calamity Ganon (The Blights were actually looking for Ganondorf. They are aware that the Calamity is a leak from the seal holding Ganondorf, but can’t locate the source), the Temple Scourges were practically members of the Yiga Clan.

Moruka doesn’t have bones lol

Also, Moruka does still have its muck shark form, except it’s much more “zora-like” (I was too lazy to draw a reference)

After the Blights were defeated by Link (They die just like they do in the OG game. lol karma), the Temple Bosses were very well aware of their parent’s deaths. The death of the Blights motivated them to find Ganondorf.

They succeeded, doing what the Blights could not. However, it wasn’t until the Upheaval that Ganondorf broke from his seal.

Shortly afterwards, Ganondorf SOMEHOW communicated to them, he saw potential in the Temple Bosses. He then tasked them with seizing the Sacred Stones, to spread his influence.

They of course, did, their powers amplifying to the point where it can affect whole regions. However, the power of the Sacred Stones mutated the Temple Bosses (example: Gyba used to look like a normal Gerudo, but taking the Sacred Stone caused her to gain buglike traits, and a vulnerability to the elements.)

Moruka’s mutation was less on the outside and more internal, their bodies producing excessive muck, causing it to throw up muck occasionally. It’s also quite painful for it, and sometimes causes breathing difficulties

After Link defeated the Temple Scourges with the Sages, they died and became resurrected by the Blood Moon, becoming effectively immortal until Ganondorf dies.

However, Sakiru was the only Scourge to not get resurrected by Ganondorf. Obviously, the Scourges were literally depressed post-TOTK. (i mean… their dads are dead, so their grandpa had to adopt them… and he fucking died too lmao)

[chaotic-on-main]

Sunrise | ModernAU One-Shot

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x gn!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ best friends to lovers, parental emotional abuse, FLUFF, slight hurt/comfort

☾ A/N ➼ This might be a little self indulgent, but I hope y'all like it anyways. The things the mom said may or may not be things my mother has said to me. I'm okay, before anyone asks lol. I hope this is comforting to others out there. Love you guys! Time to start of June's outline. :3

☾ Word Count ➼ ~2.2k

text convo made by @humanitys-strongest-bamf <3

Your silver sedan sits in the street in front of Levi’s apartment, headlights glowing on the other cars around you. Soft rock plays through the speakers as you drum your fingers on the steering wheel in impatience, the vibrant blue console lights lighting up your face. You had sent him a ‘here!’ which was left on read, meaning he was still up but still nowhere in sight. Maybe he couldn’t find his shoes? No, that wasn’t like him. He has a cubby by the door for them, which he kept immaculate. Just as you were going through other impossible scenarios, there’s a sharp knock on the passenger door that makes you jump. It’s Levi, double fisting two teas in to-go cups as you requested.

“Will you get the door, dumbass? My hands are full.” You hear muffled through the glass. It takes a bit of strain, but you lean over to unlatch the door and push it so Levi can kick it open with the tip of his shoe carefully. The internal lights pop on, blinding you momentarily but when your vision adjusts, you see Levi extending a long-sleeved arm to you with your drink.

“You remembered!” You exclaim, grabbing the warm cup from him so he can place his own down in the cup holder before sliding himself in the seat next to you.

“You asked for it.” He grumbles as he buckles himself in and then stares over at you, deadpan. His eyes widen a bit as he takes in the sight of you. "Is that my sweater?" You were indeed wearing Levi's thick, gray turtleneck. His favorite one, at that. You notice he says nothing about the red puffiness around your eyes.

“Well hello to you too, grumpy.” You smirk over at him as you take a careful sip of your tea, ignoring his question and relishing the flavors that Levi chose. It’s a blend that Levi had made special for you a while back, strong and smooth and a little fruity. Levi wasn’t a fan of it, but you loved it - for more reasons than you wouldn’t dare say.

“I’m not grumpy. And I’ve been looking for that all week. I’ll take it from you by force if I have to.”

“Mmm, kinky.” He scoffs but says nothing, looking away. You shift in your seat so you're facing him, linking your fingers together and resting your chin on them as you stare over at him. He gives you a side-eye, then a scowl.

"I am not driving, forget it." Levi snaps at you.

.

“So, what was it this time?” Levi mutters over to you from the driver’s side. He has the window down, hair wind-swept as he stares out into the very early morning darkness. His index finger taps on the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing in the background.

“Hm?” You don't bother looking over you as you speak. You have your arms placed up on the door with your head resting on them, your face lighting up every couple seconds from the glow of the passing street lights.

“What kept you awake this time?” You think for a moment about how you want to word what made your heart ache today. Even after 17 years of friendship, you still struggle with talking about your feelings with him. An emotional disconnection you’ve had since before you met him so long ago. He understood though and never asked, which is why he sat so patiently while you pieced together your thoughts. Nothing coherent came to mind, though.

“I don't…" You trail off, clearing your throat in discomfort. You bring your hand to your mouth and start chewing on your thumbnail.

"…know how to word it?" Levi finishes for you. As always, he was so good at reading you.

"Look at you finishing my sentences. You know, the whole friend group thinks we're secretly dating. Hange even has a bet."

"Oh yeah? What did shitty-glasses wager on this one?” Levi quips without missing a beat. He rolls to a stop at a four-way and takes this time to give you a full exasperated stare.

"Something about cleaning Miche's and Nanaba's shared apartment if they lost.“ You laugh before taking another sip of your tea. It's sweetened just the way you like it. Levi is great at remembering the little things like that.

“Tch. Then they better start cleaning.” Levi grumbles as he pushes down on the gas pedal gently. Levi didn't press, but you knew the conversation was well from over. He would never tell you, but he always wanted to know what was on your mind, especially when you were this upset. To you, however, he didn't need to. His quick glances at you every other stoplight told you enough how present he is for you, and always would be.

You stick your head out the window and smile at the warm breeze against your face. When you stare up at the sky, your vision is filled with pale stars and a bright moon. A couple clouds float by, lit up from the moonlight. It really is a perfect right for a drive.

"Do we have a destination in mind?" He turns the volume dial up a bit, the same soft rock from before now at a moderate level. You wouldn't mind it being louder, but with Levi's question now lingering in the air, skull shaking volume would have to wait.

"I don't, actually. I was hoping you’d just drive and see where it takes us." You give him a huge grin and a finger gun, and Levi just snorts in response.

"Alright then. Let's see where this takes us."

.

Around an hour and half later, Levi and you find yourselves still in the car on a gentle incline. You have no idea where Levi was taking you but now with the faint light of the early morning, you can see you're somewhere with lots of trees. Both of you are far from tired, disposable cups now empty. You’ve been staring at Levi for the last ten minutes with glazed eyes as your mind wanders. His voice snaps you back.

“Before you say anything about the eye bags, just know you’re part of the problem.” He says dryly with pursed lips.

“Pfft, your sleep problems are yours and yours alone.” You roll your eyes at that, but you can’t hold back your smile. The car slows down before turning off on a dirt path to your left. It’s still quite dark from the canopy of leaves above, so your view is limited to what the headlights illuminate.

“Oh, is this the day? You’re finally going to murder me and dispose of my body in the forest where it belongs?? What is it, head bludgeoning or a gunshot?” You feign an excited tone, wide eyes and toothy grin to accentuate it.

“Trust me. When I get rid of you, it’ll be much more thrilling than either of those.”

“Boo.” You stick your tongue out and pout.

Levi rolls the car down the path slowly, keeping his eye out for anything that might be in the way. It was relatively safe with only fallen leaves and small twigs littering the road. There’s a light at the end of it and after a moment, the car breaks through and then Levi puts the car in park. Your breath is taken away in a mere second.

You unfasten your seat belt and throw yourself out of the car quickly. Not bothering to shut the door behind you, you run over to the edge of the cliff that you find yourself on. You’re not sure how high up you are but it’s a considerable distance because the trees that litter the valley beneath you are quite small. It’s all green, broken up by a wide river that you suspect is the very same one that cuts through town. A layer of low fog weaves through the whole valley, and you imagine how pretty the morning dew must be from it. On the horizon, you see the beginning of pinks and oranges start to paint the sky. The sun is about to break.

Raising your hands above your head, you scream with exhilaration. A warm gust of wind blows against your face, throwing your hair back and tangling in the breeze. This was the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen, you think.

“Levi Ackerman, you jerk! How could you keep something like this from me!?” You yell as you turn around quickly, meeting his stormy gray eyes. He’s staring at you with a lopsided smile while he leans against the driver’s side door, arms and legs crossed.

“I can’t let you in on all of my secrets. That’s just not fair.” He shrugs with nonchalance.

“Does almost two decades of friendship mean nothing to you?” You smirk over at him.

Levi makes his way to the hood of the car and sits back on it, patting the spot next to him for you. You raise your eyebrow at him but amble over to him anyways before pulling yourself up as well. Your legs curl up under you as you cross them, noting the metal underneath you bending more than you’d like. Whatever, your car is on its last leg anyways.

You both sit in silence for a moment. Birds chirp and sing behind you in the trees, the rustling of the leaves signifies the start of their early morning routines. The sun still hasn’t made an appearance, and you gauge it’ll probably be another fifteen or so minutes until it wakes up for the day.

“So. What happened?” Levi pipes up next to you. When you twist your head to look at him, you notice a softness in his eyes; a look he reserves for when it’s just you and him. Pulling your legs up to your chest, you rest your cheek against your knee as you continue to watch Levi.

“My mother called me again.” You frown a little, now matching the one Levi points your way.

“You answered, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I told myself not to but then I got worried that maybe something happened. So, I picked it up. It started off okay…” You trail off as you reposition your head so that you are now resting your chin in the crook of where your knees met. The oranges and pinks glow brighter with every passing second.

“What did she say this time?” he asks gently.

“Oh, the usual. ‘You know how I feel about quitters’ and ‘it makes me sad to see your wasted potential’ then ended it with something along the lines of ‘being selfish’.” You laugh sardonically at that, heavy bitterness seeping into your tone.

“You know better than to-“

“Than to answer I know.” You snap. You continue to stare at an invisible airplane in the distance. The wind starts stinging your eyes, or was it tears? You blink hard to get whatever it was out.

“- than to believe any of that shit.” Levi retorts. He shifts next to you, the groaning of the metal underneath you both breaking up the momentary silence.

“I know, and it’s just so frustrating that it still gets under my skin. It’s been years since I’ve left. You’d think I’d be over it by now.” Your voice gives you away with a crack. You sniffle and rub your eyes with the sleeves of Levi’s sweater. Your tears leave dark marks against the gray. Levi mumbles your name, and you sit up and turn your head back to him. He just stares at you with his lips parted, thinking of what he wanted to say.

“Healing isn’t linear, nor is it clean. It’s going to have its moments where you feel like you’re falling back and it’s becoming too loud and chaotic. But you are healing, you need to be patient with yourself.” He says over to you gently, before bumping against your shoulder with his own affectionately. He’s a lot closer than you thought he was. “And don’t answer her calls anymore.” You continue to stare at him, this time in wonder.

“Hey Levi?” You ask softly.

“Hm?”

“You know you’re my best friend, right?”

This time Levi stares at you, but with what you’re not sure. You don’t get a moment to think as Levi leans into you, slowly. His lips linger across from yours, as if waiting for you to pull away. You don’t. Pushing yourself into him, your lips meet his and they’re so soft against yours. It starts off gentle, but then the kiss deepens as he moves his arm in a way to hold you closer to him. He tastes like bitter tea leaves and sweet honey. The sun breaks over the horizon, pale yellow now lighting up the surroundings.

When you both pull away, you notice a pink flush burning into his cheeks as he stares over at you. A laugh escapes you, loud and chest deep. A small smile tugs at his lips as he watches you. The way the early morning sun hits his face, you want it ingrained in your brain.

You grab his shirt and pull him back into another kiss, smiling into it as you do.

“Don’t tell Hange, I still want to watch them clean.” Levi mumbles against your mouth.

This moment, right here. You wanted to stay forever, you think.

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