#i should write more for this show in the future

[samhadjblog2]

Interesting read of S2. However I feel like your post kind of glosses over a few key details.

None of the things you listed are related "The Cycle of violence itself". Rather there by products "Of" either the class conflict between Piltover and Zaun or "Characters own personal goals" none of these are example of "ending" the cycle of violence. Because cycle in of itself is a nebulous concept to try to obtain.

>Just direct violence at the right person and society is solved.

Silco wanted to build a nation where the strong get to claw their way to the top. He isn't interesting in "ending conflict" he wants to be a part of it. He wants to prove to himself and others that he isn't a "Dirty little animal"

>Kill Silco and Powder comes back.

Vi's own personal goal of trying to get her family back after regretting what she did so long ago. And also wants to get back at someone she hates. A lot of which isn't trying to "end" anything rather just go back to how things were.

>Kill Caitlyn and Powder comes back.

Jinx simply being selfish and wanting to see either who she should be "Jinx" or "Powder"

>Blow up the Council tower.

Jinx just honoring Silco, she wasn't trying to accomplish anything grand from this. Because afterwards she just wanted to die

>Enact a fascist regime.

A means for Caitlyn getting revenge. As well as turn a person to justice.

>The glorious revolution of Zaun.

That never really happens.

>Three hex crystals.

I don't know if you referring to Isha or not because the gem stone thing wasn't going to "end the conflict" it was just a means to stop Warwick. As for Powder she wanted to save her family.

>Shoot the Hexcore out of Viktor's chest.

Now this is just an example of just lazy writing. Jayce could of just easily told Viktor about the dark future. However because the show needs to end with a big final battle. Jayce has to constantly be antagonistic towards Viktor and never explain anything in order for Viktor to just be "The big bad"

>One big act of violence and the problem stops.

Not really. The only instance were that actually happens if with Vi and Jayce raiding the factory as a means to prevent a war.

There are more instances were people who tried to advocate for "The end of the cycle of violence" are example of people just trying to extend a hand not clench a fist. Vander tried to end the cycle by trying to reach out Piltover and striking a deal. Marcus do's the same. As well as Caitlyn and Jayce. All of these to me are better reflections of character's trying to stop the conflict between the 2 cities then the character enacting violence. Mainly because the characters motivations are towards the central conflict of both Piltover and Zaun.

Because the focus wasn't 'the very nature of the cycle of violence itself". Rather the focus of the cycle of violence was rooted in the two cities themselves. Because focusing on "Nature of conflict" is a nebulous idea that isn't relatable.

While yes violence begets violence its never because "The character are trying to end "Conflict" itself. Rather its because of there own personal goals.

As for Viktor's "Glorious evolution" a lot of his beliefs "Are" fantastical. Because trying to get rid of free will in its entirety "is" supernatural. Because there is nothing relatable or grounded towards fighting for individuality itself. Yes there are conflicts were people advocate to be an individual however, they aren't fighting to protect individuality "itself".

And even then this "Fight for individualism" isn't something that ties back to Piltover and Zaun's conflict of a upper class messing with a lower class. Because no the conflict of was never "A strong person trying to fix the world there own way" rather it was always people trying to get by in the world. Because while Arcane S1 show's how violence hurts people in the long run it also show's that violence is sometimes the only thing to push forward.

And sure a common theme in the show is people using violence to try to obtain peace. However there not fighting to get rid of "All conflict". Rather jus equality for the city. And on top of that examples such as Vander, Marcus and Jayce have all been shown to strive for more peaceful means to end the conflict. Which while not perfect was still something that led to positive change. And if anything this represented the "Slow march of progress" so much better then the finale.

Because those examples are rooted in the characters making their own interpersonal choices. Meanwhile a "Save the world narrative" isn't driven by character's choices. Heck the show runners themselves admit this.

Arcane and the myth of the silver bullet

I've heard quite a few reviewers talk about the fantasy elements of Arcane as though they're an intrusion. Even though the show is named Arcane and centers around the impact of magic as technology, some feel these elements take away from the grounded class conflict. (I would argue class conflict is secondary to character conflict, but that's another post.) Why does a story about a class war end in fighting a person trying to impose their ideology on the entire city by force using magic, as opposed to previous people trying to do so using mundane violence?

There's two levels of fantasy in Arcane. There's the obvious level, the Arcane, hextech, magic itself. But there's another form of fantasy that Arcane struggles with, and it's the myth of the silver bullet.

Jayce and Viktor's hextech is the silver bullet's original form: technology that transforms society for the better just by existing. Viktor's belief in the silver bullet is so complete that he asks Jayce why he's wasting his time with politics when they could be helping people through science, and Jayce isn't too far behind. But the other characters aren't far behind them. Silco's Shimmer is the most obvious silver bullet analogue, but the indirect and most pervasive one is violence. Just direct violence at the right person and society is solved. Kill Silco and Powder comes back. Kill Caitlyn and Powder comes back. Blow up the Council tower. Enact a fascist regime. Blow up a factory. The glorious revolution of Zaun. Three hex crystals. Shoot the Hexcore out of Viktor's chest. One big act of violence and the problem stops, right? Right? The ends justify the means.

The silver bullet of Arcane isn't Hextech. The silver bullet of Arcane is violence. Viktor's Glorious Evolution is magical, yes, but the magic is only a vessel for the true goal, the goal every character has been working towards: the end to the class conflict through the base violence for necessary change. See, the problem with the previous violence was that it wasn't big enough, wasn't thorough enough. We need to commit it against every person in Piltover and Zaun, and then, finally, it will be enough. The ends justify the means.

Except, they don't. Because the ends are the means and the means are violence and death. Three hex crystals and your family is dead. Isha blows herself up to save Jinx and Jinx almost kills herself over it. Blow up the Council and you get a fascist regime. Enact a fascist regime and you get Noxians. Shoot your best friend to avert the bad future and you cause it. It's no surprise that Viktor's one final act of violence ends the same way, a dead world. The silver bullet doesn't work. Killing is a cycle.

The magical aspects of Viktor's Glorious Evolution are fantasy. The belief behind it is not. The belief that we can force the world to be fixed, if we are strong enough, smart enough, brave enough, has been the ideal driving the entire class conflict, and the Glorious Evolution is merely its ultimate expression. Of course no amount of violence does anything to it. Of course it requires perspective and then forgiveness. And of course its defeat is the beginning of the long, slow social change that is Sevika on the Council. There is no silver bullet, no final evolution. Only the endless march of progress.

[sananaryon]

The Journal of Luz Clawthorne Noceda, documenting the Frogvasion of the Boiling Isles.

I.e. I finally got around to making some art of my own for my edgy owlphibia au, specifically as told from Luz's very flawed and unreliable point of view. Feel free to ask me about details of the AU because I love talking!

Text and image description under the cut.

Image description: Four pictures of illustrated journal pages, each with one or two illustrations done in watercolour and ink.

The first page has watercolour and ink drawing of the Titan's skull from The Owl House, with the sky, clouds, and the moon in the background. The archive house, resembling a crown, is hanging aroudn the right side of the skull with a piece broken off. Above the skull, the castle from Amphibia is floating surrounded by smaller shapes too small to make out. Parts of the skull and land around it is smoking. On the right side of the page is a symbol resembling a frog's foot done in bronze ink, with the label "Empire's sigil?"

Text:

3 N.E.

36. abruary.

1 month after Frogvasion

Journal of Luz Clawthorne Noceda. It's been one month since the start of frogvasion (Bailey says that's a stupid name but she got her name from an old science-fiction book so she doesn't get a vote,) and I am writing this in our new resistance HQ (Hooty play Empire Strikes Back) at King's island.

I have decided to write this record of events [text is struck out]because auntie Lilith forced me [struck out text ends, next sentence is written in cursive] for the sake of future historians and to give the view of someone living through historical events. [cursive ends]

So, to recap: One month ago on the 3-year anniversary of Belos getting his ass kicked for good, a giant floating castle with an army of frog-shaped robots and warships popped out of thin air (or from a giant rainbow portal). Then a lady in a dress showed up in the middle of the party and gave an alien invasion speech about us joining the Empire of Calamity [frog foot symbol is drawn here]. So Raine (Lord High Prince) (that's witch prime minister) went to talk to her but then she did some mind control shit and we got them the heck out of there.

And now an army of frog robots (Frobots) are conquering the isles led by some crazy powerful fire god!!! I should probably explain her, huh?

Signed: Luz C. Noceda & Lilith Clawthorne.

[text ends]

The second page has a watercolour painting done entirely in blue and white, depicting a woman in silhouette with glowing white eyes. She has an afro and is wearing a dress and making a pose with one hand to her chest and one out to the side, and there is a halo above her head. Next to her is text saying "Looks human. Probably isn't."

Further down on the page is watercolour and ink drawing depicting an indistinct red figure kneeling to the blue figure from before, this time with her skin and hair coloured brown. Next to the red figure is the text "WTF?" with an arrow pointing to the figure, and next to the blue lady is text saying "Blue all over" "Glowy eyes" and "She's not that pretty."

Text:

The Blue Princess

(We don't know her name)

The first of the Empire of Calamity Leaders (???) who appeared.

She just appeared in the middle of the victory/anniversary feast and demanded we surrendered to her Emperor (we've had enough of that here, thank you). Lord Prince raine stepped up to talk to her, but it took like 5 seconds before they were kneeling. Sorry lady, we know what mind control looks like and we're not falling for it. [the "for it" is slightly smudged] woops.

Weirdly, Raine says they never felt a compulsion to kneel, and that it was more like the first time they met Belos - that this person is important and should be bowed to. I don't get how that's different but they say they also remember thinking she was the most beautiful person they've seen, so maybe it's a charm? Raine has snapped out of it, so it doesn't last long.

The princess hasn't appeared since then so she might not be a fighter, but Lilith is making potions of anti charm with B's moms, just in case.

signed: Luz C. Noceda.

Powers: Mind control

Weaknesses: Not a figher (???)

suspected

[text ends]

The third page has a watercolour painting of a dark silhouette with one arm raised surrounded by red flames. Above their head is an orb of white made up of lines curling in on themselves.

Next to the main painting is a watercolour and ink drawing of three figures. One is an indistinct man in purple with a topknot and cape, one is an indistinct green lady with palm-like hair, and one is the same figure from before. The former two are shooting abomination goop and vines towards the latter.

Text:

The Red General

(no name either)

The leader of the Empire's army. Since the start of Frogvasion, they've been leading that army of frogbots from city to city, ordering surrender and burning and pillaging when not met with compliance. They always wear that armor, so no idea what they look like. We just call them the Red General.

(Boscha wants me to write that she calls them "that red psycho." I said that's not very nice to people with psychosis and she said "eat my ass" so I said maybe later.)

They showed up first when we were evacuating the Council House (former Archive House) cuz a floating castle had started floating above it. And when I say "showed up" I mean cracked an entire wing while burning like a meteor.

Darius and Terra (she got out on probation) tried to hold them of while we evacuated, but...

I know plants can burn, I never thought I'd see abomination goop boil.

Darius is at the other base, recovering, but [text struck out and indistinct] He'll be fine. Bailey is just worried.

Red hasn't done anything like that again, but we'll be careful

Signed: Luz C. Noceda & Boscha

Boscha stop stop messing up the ink

-L

Make me

-B

I'm telling Lilith

-L

[text ends]

The fourth page is taken up by a watercolour painting depicting a pair of orange and yellow eyes with white pupils surrounded by darkness.

Text

The Emperor

Emperor of Numberless Worlds

The princess mentioned them. We know nothing

Boscha made dark chokelate and spilled all over this page.

-L

[text ends]

[uniiiquehecrt]

Voice actors are NOT the same as actors.

It takes a specific kind of skill-set and training to be able to warp and meld the voice. It takes a certain kind of talent and dedication to hone that talent into the ability to meld the voice and invoke emotion with one's voice alone. Actors are used to using their voice secondarily to their body language and their facial expressions. It's all mirrored back on camera. They do have nuance. But it's a different kind of nuance and a different kind of training to produce that nuance.

Voice actors might get their likeness transposed on their character's design, and maybe their mannerisms might seep into the character's animation. But when it's all said and done: their presence is in their voice. They are bringing a character to life, showing that emotion in their voice, trying to keep a specific accent, drawl, pitch, tone in that voice and keep it consistent for their recording sessions.

The voice actor is like a classically trained musician who can play first chair in a competitive, world-renown orchestra. The actor (who fills the voice actor's role) is like a moot who played violin in beginner and intermediate high school orchestra and thinks they can get into Juilliard with that 2-4 years of experience.

This doesn't mean that the HS orchestra moot can't play. They can even be really good at it. Maybe they won competitions and sat first chair. But they are not in the same league as the person who's been training their whole lives and lives and breathes to hone their craft using the instrument and all of the training they've ever acquired to perfect it. They are not meant for the same roles. They are not in the same caliber. You do not hire the HS equivalent when you want to play complex music in a competitive orchestra.

Actors are not the same as voice actors.

And furthermore, actors - especially big name actors - taking the roles of animated characters for big budget films or TV pilots makes no sense anyways when - at least in the case of TV pilots - there's not a point to hiring a big budget actors anyways. That money could be used elsewhere (like paying your animators), and the talent that is brought onto the screen for X character could then be hired on to voice said character no recasting required.

I wouldn't say voice acting as a profession is in danger exactly, but it's certainly being disrespected and overlooked for celebrity clout, and this has ALWAYS been an issue. Shoot, even Robin Williams knew that much - which is why he tried so hard not to be used as a marketing chess piece for Aladdin and got royally pissed off when it happened anyways. People shouldn't go to any movie (but especially not animated films) because "oh famous actor is in it". People should go because it's a good movie and the voice acting is good.

People who honest to god think that voice actors are replaceable because "oh well anyone can voice act" or "I like xyz celebrity so naturally it'll be good" ... Honestly I just wish you'd reassess your priorities because you're missing the point and are part of the problem.

Voice Actors ≠ Actors.

[sokkawordbender]

‎I'm sorry but that's rich coming from someone who's clearly biased by Soowon and abhors Yona

‎

‎first of all, since you are very focused on me making my choices and getting personal using the words 'rich coming from', and by doing that making weak claims in your argument, this is ridiculous.

I haven't personally said anything to you for choosing what you chose. This is no different than name calling.(an ad hominem if you may). IF you have points of argument, bring it to the table instead of being attacking personally. I talked about your narrative rather than talking about you and question your choices. Anyone can like any character. Did I ask why you like yona? You need to defend your standpoint, in his case your character without giving be if it of a doubt and actually with facts and reality.

‎Anyways, the statement still stands, yona has done many blunders and taken risks(which is good, a flaw is good), but the only problem is she has never suffered consequences from it. She always gets the Convenient way out. This makes the character writing loose its charm. You may like it, because you just like it, but its not the same for everyone. I, of course, am looking at this from the point of view from of a literature major. This is what we do there, we dissect the characters and analyze how their development was. Character flaws are good, only if the character learns something from his flaws and mistakes. This makes it a character development. Yona's character writing started to go down the drain when she constantly had nothing to bear consequences for. Se became divine despite the fact she had been claimed as a human again and again. This makes the narrative hard to believe.

Let's say for example, take Classic novel 'Jane Eyre'. The story was so good and showed how the girls got away from abusive relatives and it led her to her academic pursuit. She learned and grew and yet the political and abusive authority at the academia still haunted and affected her because she was a lowborn and the school was for high society. Then she became a teacher in that very school. She later became governess. But then had to run away. And when she was literally looking for craps, suddenly out of nowhere an uncle of hers pops up who gave her all of his generational wealth and now she is all rich and what not. Like. Where was this uncle before? How was he never mentioned before and how come he knew Jane existed or lived.

This made me hate the character development. Because she could have been shown to use that governess title or her education to earn her a spot. That what low or middle income households find relatable to. But the idea that you can never be successful unless you have generational wealth rubs it in their face and makes it unrealistic to approach.

What I'm saying is, that, all of yona's slipups are just fine. What's not fine is her not taking the Fall for it. Like in lighting up the signal in fire tribe and lo and behold suddenly there is an army ready the doorstep in order to cover up her action.

‎

‎ if Soowon truly is a good king, and didn't waste all his state's treasury in military campaigns, then he should have enough money to provide food relief

‎

‎So, you're saying he has not been a good king and has been a warmonger? because he is trying to strengthen kouka's borders because there was so much threat and harm done from Il's reign. And not to mention what his father did at xing. Im not a big fan of neither yuhon nor Il. But he is more of a strategist and loyal to his cause rather than a tyrant who causes wars. He is doing quickly as possible because he knows he has limited time. He is not spending his expenses on military just because he wants to. He didnt even know who will rule after him and was genuinely worried for the wellbeing of the future of his country.

what bothers me here is, after making use of Soowon's character's intellect to get all bordering countries as a Vassal nation, yona will get a ready made store bought state of kingdom to rule. That is if she rules. I would have absolutely loved it if she had been shown to be involved in these political games in another light. BUt that's my opinion. I'm saying this because if she is going to be shown as a candidate for throne, her development along 100 chapters or so should have shown her interest in learning about it. SUre she helped people and it was necessary for her to understand the people, that part I totally agree with. But she had been kept away from these things by her father, not her fault. But if there was background buildup about her learning about these foreign policies or politics directly or in directly or even shown interest to learn about it, it would have been easily under stable they way her character behaved in xing and kai arc. It felt unnatural.

‎

‎It doesn't. Both can be true at the same time

‎YEs it is. That's not how making an argument works. You need to chose a side in your debate.

‎

‎Hate to break it to you but usually when you're kind and helpful, surprise surprise, people tend to be...... grateful! Calling that a ‘fanbase’ is honestly hilarious, like you really imagined them lining up for selfies and autographs huh? Does their gratitude towards her constitue such a threat to your beloved Soowon's reign🤭?

‎

‎I don't know what is making you happy at your own statement. But let me brief this point in case for you a bit. what yona in her travel did, was no doubt an act of kindness. But it didnt even scratch the real cause of situations at the surface. sei and water tribe arc was best IMO. Im saying state level taken by government to resolve an issue even IRL is way massive and different than an activist/ NGO doing it by so many ways. We were just not shown the effects of Soowon's actions taken for the country because the story us being told from yona's narrative. It will accentuate and highlight her action and their reactions.

‎

‎Does their gratitude towards her constitue such a threat to your beloved Soowon's reign🤭?

‎I literally *rolled my eyes* here at the childishness. You added that emoji like you made a really good point or did a prank and is happy about it all on your own.Sure i guess whatever makes you happy.

‎ I couldn't care less about when Soowon's reign's end or start. I don't know why felt need to say what you said here. But let me take this into consideration and just point out that our mc is yona. sure she is kind and whatever, but her actions and decisions are what we need to drive the story forward. Not Soowon's.

‎

Yona did nothing wrong (chapter 267)

Given that we're getting the next chapter soon, I wanted to comment on this matter a last time. Akatsuki no Yona is not a fatalistic story. It showed us that things could be changed to the better through hard work. That's why, this story will never promote the idea that one should surrender to their abusers and accept their fate for the greater good. Because yes, the dragon gods are abusers: they're akin to the toxic controlling partner (or parent) who gaslights you and claims to know what's better for you, who claims their unreasonable behaviour is justified in the name of love, that it is your fault for not appreciating it, and that everything bad that happens, will be because you didn't listen to them.

Neither Yona nor Hiryuu are selfish, foolish or evil for seeking to escape a toxic environment. It is never the victim's fault for rejecting their abuser. And whatever natural disasters befall the innocent people in Kouka will be because the gods chose to unlish destruction with their own hands, not because Yona refused to yield to their suffocating love and oppression.

In fact, Yona's defiance isn't only morally justified, but also logically sound for several reasons:

1- the gods have proven themselves to be untrustworthy, by attempting to kill the very people they promised to turn human and send back to earth, leading to their current descent to madness from repetitive contract breaking. If Yona had trusted them and they later went back on their word, she'd be called dumb and naïve instead.

2- The contracts they're imposing are one sided and self serving. A contract should allow both parties to put their own terms and conditions, yet Yona is denied this right. They're desperate to regain their strength, and once that happens nothing will stop them from breaking a contract or two. Ooryuu confirms that they'll keep imposing increasingly absurd conditions, but Yona is expected to comply with these absurdities?

3- The gods had already started withdrawing their "devine protection" the moment Yona entered the chalice. They were already planning to abandon humanity all together. Their protection of humans so far was only linked to Yona's well-being, that's why, if anything, Yona returning to earth would actually coerce them into maintaining their devine protection out of fear for her safety.

4- by returning to earth, Yona isn't severing all ties with the gods. She can go back to heaven and negotiate a contract whenever she wants thanks to the chalice and a drop of her own blood. Far from "abandoning" her people to certain death, she's giving herself the opportunity to assess the situation firsthand. Is this "devine protection" really necessary? Would its absence really affect the country in an irreversible way? Can't the people actually work through this crisis hand in hand and overcome it? After all, nothing guarantees the images shown by the gods are real, or much absolute. Yona has already defied fate: saving Hak from Zeno's attack, and seeking out the dragon worriers to prevent his death, proving that nothing is set in stone, and that you can change the future through analysing the current situation to decide on the best course of action

5- Kouka isn't facing "immediate" destruction. The sun didn't disappear, it merely got veiled by clouds, much like in winter. People are able to walk down the streets without using torches or candles. While Photosynthesis may decrease, crops will not wither overnight. Kouka also ought to have its own food reserves for similar crises. It also now posses several vassal states that could help providing food and housing for the most affected areas.  This leaves enough time to evaluate the situation and decide on the best conduct to adopt

6- The fundamental problem remains that the gods are apathetic to humans. They're unable to relate to them, and often minimise their suffering. Yona's return to heavens won't be more than a fleeting remedy to a lasting problem. As the protagonist of the story and Hiryuu's reincarnation, Yona ought to treat the problem at its root and find a way to bridge the gap between gods and humans, eventually making a contract that cannot be broken. Can this be achieved through surrendering yourself to vicious fickle beings? What was Akatsuki no Yona about all along? Was it a story praising self sacrifice and martyrdom as the absolute form of strength, selflessness and generosity? Or was it a story about struggling through the mud, relying on your actions, efforts and choices to shape your outcome? About challenging injustice, resisting fate and finding alternative paths? Which of these best describe Yona's actions in this chapter? Think about it, and find your answer.

[schrodingers-dove]

.

[dashiellqvverty]

the thing about bbc merlin is that in many ways it is very tragic, in the sense that so much bad shit that happens could have easily been avoided if charcters had made different choices, hadn't been so wrapped up in prophecies, had trusted people and communicated openly literally ever, just generally got their heads out of their asses. like i know thats the point, they are trying so hard to do the right things and protect people but the story is unavoidable. HOWEVER it is all soooo fucking poorly executed that none of it is effective. so instead of thinking "wow what a tragic story about fate/destiny/whatever" you walk away like "well that fucking sucked for no reason. i hate that fuckass dragon" and i sometimes feel very cinemasins in the way i pick apart the logic but the thing is the show is written in a way that makes the characters come off as so stupid and always making terrible choices rather than like. tragic victims of circumstance.

[raininyourblackeyes]

My cousin, a published writer, a well-known poet in my country and a literature professor, for whom I've always been no.1 support ever since her first attempts at writing in high school, told me that I must stop writing as a hobby because that's her thing and since I'm writing fantasy mostly my writing could never have any important artistic value anyways.

[purpleponder]

More sketches of just whatever dynamic I wanted for Shinichi and Kaito, some of these might be finished at some point in the future but most of them are just shit posts lol

Except for the first one, I just really liked the sketch of that drawing a lot

[melverie]

Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh today I've been constantly experiencing the urge to un-private today-in-the-devildom & start writing for it again

[todayisafridaynight]

something that REALLY bothers me about the 3jima situation in 8.... how did no one know that that happened ? sure, ichi doesn't use the internet a whole lot, and kiryu wasn't keeping contact with them cause of daidoji bullshit, but... did ichi just Not keep contact with them at all? when they were literally doing what he was trying to do at hello work ?? giving ex-yakuza a shot at having a real job like ????

not to mention that a scandal like they went through definitely would have made it into the news like... hey the government is working with the yakuza. isn't that just a huge deal ????? that I'm sure SOMEONE must have seen

that whole thing just feels so so stupid iw sucks so much I'm so disappointed

IW's handling of daigo's security company is actually so half-assed- we don't even get watase's perspective on it despite him being a part of that project too he just fucks off entirely without even a mention

[letgomaggie]

i have the worst feeling about this episode of BMF but i must watch so fingers crossed it does not mess up the growth we have seen kawi undergo 

[dragontamer05]

Rauru saying that X thing only happened because that was a time line without Zelda but she's here now

Despite having 0 proof to the the contrary that this isn't how things were always meant to play out and her arrival in the past was always going to happen regardless

Like for once you can say there isn't any weird time splits or anything this specific story is a closed time loop

(Any world where she didn't show up, thus being unable to warn and prepare them for what was to come likely would just end with everyone dead Ganondorf/ Demon King wins and takes over )

[malachitezmeyka]

Just remembered I stayed up until 5 a.m writing 2.6k of the filthiest smut I have ever written

[nanamiskentos]

(JUST MEET ME AT THE) APT! — gojo satoru minors dni. art by chitrartum on twt.

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (a) and let the show begin !

prologue. → your ex, that sleazy and no-good scumbag won't stop posting tacky mirror selfies on instagram, arm around his fellow cheater-in-crime. so, christmas eve finds you morose in a dodgy dive bar. why not tumble back into bed with that random, gorgeous stranger you just met?

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. never drive, no matter how little alcohol is in you folks!!! never!!! making out, creampiè, hooking up with a stranger, ovèrstimulation, mildly rough sèx, gojo won't tell you what his job is

word count. 9.4k! song inspiration. apt — rosé & bruno mars

a/n. reader lowkey a hater, i love vanilla vodka eggnog </3 i said i was gonna post on 02/12 and i kept my word, literally rushed to finished this before my clinical exams in the cardiac ward 😭😭😭😭😭😭 hope y'all stay healthy. your future surgeons are writing gojo smut on tumblr.com

mp3. don't you want me like i want you, baby? don't you need me like i need you now? sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. all you gotta do is meet me at the apartment (아파트) !

you think your friends would kill you if they knew this was how you were spending christmas eve. not at some glittering holiday party, nor tucked away in a snow-dusted cabin. but here, holed up in a dimly lit bar with an atmosphere so questionable it should come with a warning label alongside a health and safety audit.

the place had charm, if your definition of charm included scuffed floors, a jukebox stuck on 'last christmas' and a string of blinking lights that looked like they'd been thrown at the walls rather than hung. still, you'd swiped a couple of minty candy canes from a jar near the door, which felt like a win.

your phone sat resolutely off in your bag. self-preservation. no instagram, and no tacky mirror selfies from your scumbag ex with the same smirk he'd worn a month ago when you caught him cheating. with someone who had always been 'just a friend, babe!' you weren't keen to let that ruin the rest of the night, though if you were being honest, you had already let it ruin a good chunk of the month.

"another christmas vodka...sour, please," you squint at the messy chalkboard above the bar, where the christmas specials were scrawled in what would barely pass for handwriting.

the bartender gave a single, surly nod. he looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but here, preferably somewhere free of customers nursing post-breakup bitterness like a fine wine.

and so, you found yourself staring at the tall glass now sitting in front of you, studying the rosemary sprig that swayed lazily in the translucent red liquid. a few cranberries bobbed among the ice cubes like they were on some tiny festive raft.

"woah, that one's way too strong for me."

the voice interrupts your private session of wallowing. you turn your head, slowly, to take in the culprit. he-who-hath-disturbed-the-peace. a man sitting close enough to be annoying, but not close enough to invade your personal space.

it takes you a moment to process the stranger, mostly because of the brain freeze from your ill-timed gulp.

"i mean, it's not bad," you shrug, hoping to sound neutral enough that he leaves you be. but then because you just can't leave well enough alone, you gesture at the specials board, "better than...that, at least."

you jab a finger at the chalk-scrawled abomination: vanilla & peppermint vodka eggnog.

the man frowns, a sharp but somehow charming movement that's overshadowed by the dim lights, "hey, i ordered that one."

you blink like a startled bovine, before breaking into a laugh, "my bad. i'm sure it's really fuckin' delicious."

the stranger chuckles too, a soft and low sound that seems more genuine that it has any right to be, "i hope so. otherwise, this is gonna be a long night."

the man finally shifts, casting aside the dim shadows that lay over him, into the blinking string lights. broad shoulders framed by a dark, tailored jacket that hugs him like a second skin. his hair, startlingly white, was pushed back by — wait, was that a blindfold?

you stare longer than you should have, trying to piece the odd sight together. a cosplay? a k-pop idol wannabe, hoping to get recruited for the next bts tour? perhaps, he was blind, hard of sight? you start to open your mouth, wondering how to phrase the intrusive and awkward questions, but he beats you to it.

"i can see you just fine, y'know," he says, his tone laced with amusement.

your cheeks burn at the realisation that he's caught you gawking shamelessly. so you quickly turn back to your drink, suddenly very interested in the cranberries floating in the glass.

the bartender returns, sliding the stranger's drink onto the counter with an audible clink. it was the most obnoxious cocktail that you'd ever seen. a martini glass filled with frothy, pale liquid and crowned with a cinnamon stick that jutted out like the mast of some ridiculous holiday ship.

you watch, mildly horrified, as the man picks up the glass and downs half of it in one confident gulp. he sets it down a satisfied sigh, and a smack of his glossy lips, and you wrinkle your nose involuntarily at the sight.

"i swear it's good," he says with a laugh, catching your expression. his grin is wide, playful. and you find yourself smiling back despite your sour, gloomy mood.

he has a nice smile, you note. not forced nor smug, but genuine. framed by pale pink lips that curl up in an easy, natural way. it was strange though, to look at someone without seeing their eyes.

"i'm gojo, by the way," he offers, his voice smooth and lightly amused once more, as if he'd caught you studying him again.

your gaze drops to his hands, long and slender, tracing the rim of the martini glass. something about the way they move — elegant and deliberate, hold your attention a moment too long for propriety. you quickly snap your focus back to his face, "what brings you here, gojo?"

gojo shrugs, and you can almost imagine him rolling his eyes beneath the blindfold, though you doubt his ire is directed at you, "work, i guess. or maybe i just got bored of going to work."

"they're working you hard, yeah?" you ask, trying for sympathy. employers loved squeezing their workers dry during the holidays. your own boss was proof enough of that, running the office like a sweatshop for santa's unpaid elf labour.

"something like that," gojo says with a scoff, the corners of his mouth quirking up again, "what about you? what brings you here? it's christmas eve, isn't it?"

you sigh, the weight of gauche embarrassment suddenly pressing down as the words spill out before you can stop them, "my ex-boyfriend cheated on me."

gojo's lip curls, the kind of expression that balances perfectly between pity and disgust, "that sucks," he offers. profound and wise, you have to agree as he continues, "you jus' find out or something?"

the question makes you cheeks heat, and you fiddle with the edge of your drink, "no, i've known all month." you gesture vaguely towards your purse, where your phone sat like an unsealed pandora's box, "but he posted...on instagram. and stuff. i'm still, y'know, getting over it."

gojo makes a thoughtful clicking noise with his tongue, "ah, see, i don't do social media. but that sounds rough."

you let out a weak huff, "yeah, well...now i just feel like a loser. my friends told me to go out and have fun, and here i am..." you trail off, downing the rest of your cranberry vodka in a single, decisive gulp. the sting hits your throat, sharp and sour, and you grimace at the burn.

gojo frowns slightly, leaning in just enough that you can hear how his voice softens, "i don't think you're a loser." the sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, pulling your gaze back to him, "it's fair to wallow."

his words hang in the air, and you find yourself smiling, albeit thinly, "that's...really nice of you to say."

gojo hums thoughtfully, "i meant it, i promise. but i can't exactly say i've been there, never really dated anyone."

you blink, openly gaping at the man, "really? you're joking."

it was hard to wrap your head around that. even with the odd blindfold, everything about him screamed 'pounce-worthy'. the broad frame, the charming smile, the striking white hair that looked like it belonged in a kérastase commercial.

gojo laughs at your incredulous expression, "same old work and stuff," he explains with a casual shrug. then his grin fades, tone shifting just enough for you wonder why that feels as though the clouds have covered the light of the moon outside, "always got in the way."

"at least you never had to deal with a breakup," you offer, trying to find some weak, silver lining.

gojo frowns, his pale complexion now tinged with a faint red flush that even the dim bar lights couldn't disguise. was he really that much of a lightweight, or was the eggnog's amaretto content deceptively boozy?

he sighs dramatically, "a friend once left me outside a kfc in shinjuku. then he became a murderer and a cult leader. that felt like a breakup."

"huh," you murmur, staring at the man with a mixture of amusement and faint alarm, wondering if you'd seen any cult leaders on the evening news lately. no, nothing save for the occasional incorrect weather report, a friendly good-looking priest running some scam association, and news reports about an octopus that could predict the lottery, "that's - well, okay..."

you couldn't quite tell if he was joking or not, but gojo seems to shake himself free of the odd reverie. he's running his hand through his shock of white hair, and his grin has returned, slower and a touch softer, "still, your ex must've been crazy. letting go of a pretty girl like you?"

the words land with surprising weight, considering they come from a stranger in a sleazy bar, but it leaves you momentarily stunned. you can feel a blush rising to your cheeks, your heart doing an embarrassing little flip before you manage to get a grip on yourself.

"wow," you laugh, feigning composure as you sip the last remnants of your drink, "smooth."

gojo's smile is wider now, "hah, i call it like i see it," and his lips now curl upwards as he leans in, "and i'm serious. if i had someone like you..."

you laugh again, but this time it's far more unsteady. you wonder if the cranberry vodka is playing with your head, "big words for someone who's never dated. should i be impressed, gojo?"

gojo's chuckle is a deep sound that vibrates in his chest, "i know a good thing when i see it. you don' need to date to know what you want. and i think i want you."

your stomach does a little flip, and you feel all rationality being pounded out of you just from staring at his unfairly gorgeous hands rest on sturdy thighs, "you do flattery well, i'll give you that."

"oh, i don't know about that," gojo says, fiddling with the stem of his glass, "but what'dya say we get out of here? how about my place?"

you blink slowly, and you're aware that your heart (and...nether regions) have already composed an answer before your mind has, "what if you're a serial killer? you're not about to silent night, deadly night me, are you? you haven't killed someone have you?"

for a moment, the man stills but then gojo leans back, "smart girl. asking the right questions. but no, i can at least promise that i'm not a criminal."

you hesitate just for a beat, the words lingering on your tongue, before you let out a breath and shrug, "fine. where's your place?"

"azabu," gojo replies without missing a beat, his tone smooth, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

you gape once more, blinking as you try to process the information. azabu? as in tokyo's ritziest neighbourhood, where a one-bedroom apartment could cost you more than most people's yearly salary? the kind of place where the floors are made of marble, and everyone's shoes are more expensive than your entire wardrobe?

gojo, ridiculously handsome despite looking like a circus runaway, too charming for his own good, and not the type you'd expect to find in a cheap downtown dive bar. definitely not on a christmas eve, at least.

for a split second, you wonder how a man like him even ended up in a place like this. maybe it's some kind of self-imposed penance. or he likes to keep things low-key when he's pretending not to be rich? maybe he's looking to cosplay a succession character?

whatever it is, it's working. not only does gojo have a face carved from marble, now you've got a solid ticket into seeing what a neighbourhood for the top one percent really looks like beyond it's wealthy exterior. maybe, you'll bring back a souvenir.

you wonder whether there's a group of small emotions standing around inside your head, inside-out style. glaring at you as if you're incapable of making good and rational decisions.

well fuck that, you gather yourself and shrug off the small wave of nerves, and loop your purse strap around your finger, "alright," you say, "let's get out of here then."

you don't miss at how the adam apple of gojo's throat bobs for a second, before he downs the rest of his drink in one go, "let's get outta here then."

you follow him out into the cold, your breath fogging in front of you as you try to focus, but the man is tall, like ridiculously so. but when you reach the curb, he turns to face you again, a frown marring his face.

"so, i have a small confession."

i changed my mind and i find you repulsive.

i was paid by your ex to do this, and now i've done enough to get my money.

i'm a serial killer.

you don't know which possibility is worse, "huh, a confession? what is it now?"

gojo chuckles, lifting a hand to the back of his neck, as though he's about to spill a dark secret into the night air, "i don't have a car."

"you've got to me kidding me. how'd you even get down here?"

gojo shrugs, a casual and almost lazy movement. and you feel your gaze lingering on his shoulders. broad, impossibly wide, the dark jacket hugging him in all the right places, like it was tailor-made to showcase just how much he filled it out.

"someone dropped me off. ages ago," like it was the most normal and rational explanation in the world.

your own laugh is short, a little disbelieving, but you pull your silver keys from your purse, "well, i guess i'll have to drive then. but what would you have done if i hadn't been here to save the day?"

gojo steps to the side, opening your own car door for you with a small flourish and exaggerated bow that makes your heart jolt again, "probably teleport back home. maybe fly, since the skies look clear."

what a weird guy. hot, but weird. he seems like the type to dress up with a fake beard and show up as gandalf at the next lord of the rings fan convention.

in the driver's seat beside him, you catch yourself staring too long. your gaze slipping over a model's jawline, the white of his hair being held up by the blindfold. even his vaguely expensive scent is disorienting, pleasant like pine and blackcurrant. but it's also hard not to be amused when he's furrowing teeth into plush pink lips out of concentration, pressing an address into your cracked gps screen.

well, merry christmas to you.

gojo's place is well...how do you say this? gorgeous doesn't quite begin to cover it. he leads you into the building with the ease of someone who knows every inch of it, tossing a casual smile over his shoulder as he swipes a key card to unlock the private elevator, "i tend to move around a bit. or stay in different places. keeps life exciting, don't you think?"

you step into the elevator alongside him, the polished mirrors reflecting the soft glow of gold accents and sleek, modern lines. his hand hovers over the control panel before he presses the button for the top floor. of course, it's the penthouse.

"you move around a lot?" you ask, arching an eyebrow, "what, like a restless billionaire or something?"

gojo smiles, leaning casually against the steel as the elevator begins its smooth ascent, "now you're exaggerating."

the elevator finally dings, and gojo steps aside, offering an exaggerated bow as he gestures for you to exit, "after you, my fair maiden."

you almost scoff at the ridiculousness of it, but there's something so endearing and charming about how he pulls it off, especially when paired with the unfair symmetry of his face.

floor to ceiling windows dominate the far wall, revealing a jaw dropping panorama of tokyo's skyline. the city stretches out in a glittering sea of lights, with the tokyo tower glowing a golden exclamation point against the velvet night sky. the interior is just as impressive, with polished wood floors that gleam in the warm light and a glass dining table that sits beneath a sculptural chandelier. that same faint scent of blackberry and pine lingers in the air, heady almost.

behind you, gojo strolls with an easy and languid grace, tossing his jacket onto an artisan leather armchair. beneath it, his sky blue dress shirt clings just right and rolled up to reveal forearms faintly dusted with pale hair. you think you've momentarily forgotten how words work, and you avert your gaze quickly. though not before catching the faint smile on his lips.

"not bad, huh?" gojo says, heading to the open kitchen as though he's unaware of the effect he's having on a rational and sensible mind such as yourself, "it's no dive bar, but i'll do."

you shake your head, bewildered. trying to process how someone you met in a dingy bar could live somewhere that looks like it belongs in architectural digest. even down to the odd, ancient looking pieces that scatter the wide living room. weird looking artifacts of some sort. maybe he's also a collector? go figure.

"not bad?" you repeat, incredulous, "gojo, this place is incredible."

the man laughs, opening a sleek fridge to grab a bottle of water, "i have good taste," he says with mock modesty, his tone teasing as long fingers twist off the cap, "and a thing for gorgeous views. though, between you and me, i'm not great with heights. ironic, i suppose. paying a fortune for a view i'd rather not get too close to."

he waves a hand vaguely towards the windows, the blindfold still firmly in place.

"so, what's the deal? did you win the lottery, or inherit a fortune. or are you some kinda secret agent who moonlights as a barfly?"

gojo lifts the bottle in mock toast, "let's just say i'm very good at what i do."

you arch a brow, crossing your arms and ignoring the warm flush creeping up your neck, "and what exactly is that?"

"oh, you know. standard stuff. international intrigue, thwarting evil creatures. i even saved a kitten from a tree the other day."

"right, because nothing screams the next member of the avengers like eggnog in a seedy bar."

gojo leans casually against the counter, "even the avengers need a holiday drink now and then. don't knock it." but then he gestures towards the sleek couch, "wait, you can make yourself comfortable, y'know. i'd hate for my guest to think i'm a terrible host."

"terrible host? no, but a mystery man —"

before you can finish, your foot catches on something hard, and you stumble forward with an undignified yelp. gojo reacts instantly, how does he move that fast, and his arm is shooting out to steady you. but glorious gravity and magnificent momentum has other plans.

both of you crash onto the couch, and you find yourself sprawled unceremoniously across his lap. gojo's laugh rumbles low in his chest, and you can feel the warmth of it underneath your palms as you steady yourself, "well, that's one way to get comfortable," he murmurs, voice teasing as his large hand lingers lightly on the curve of your waist.

you prop yourself up slightly, cheeks burning, and glance back at the offending object. your brows knit together when you spot what looks suspiciously like a katana gleaming under the soft light.

"did i just trip on a — hey, what the hell is that?"

gojo interrupts, smoothly extending a long leg to nudge that suspicious object under the nearby coffee table before you can finish, "nothing important," he says breezily, the motion so quick you almost think you imagined it.

his focus shifts back to you, almost guilty, but his fingers are pressing divots into the fabric of your top, "now, where were we? hi."

you blink, caught off guard by how strange it is to feel the searing heat of someone's gaze underneath a blindfold, impossibly intent, "hi yourself," you manage.

for a moment, neither you nor the gorgeous man under you move, and the world feels strangely airless.

but your fingers twitch against the fine linen of his shirt. and before you can second-guess yourself, you reach your hand up to the edge of the silk fabric over his face and you ask, "can i take this off?"

gojo tilts his head, like it's a genuine consideration and you catch the faintest flicker of hesitation. it's fleeting, replaced by a crooked smile as he nods, "go ahead, sweetheart."

your hand rests lightly on the silk, hesitant for only a second before tracing its way to the back of his head. your fingers brush through impossibly soft strands of white hair, and his breath hitches when you find the knot tied neatly to the base of his skull.

you wonder what manner of man gojo is, letting himself be stitched undone by a stranger. but with care, you undo the knot, working deftly and clutching the fabric as you pull the blindfold away.

the blindfold slips free, and for a moment, you're certain you've forgotten how to breathe. bright, piercing blue eyes. framed by thick white lashes blink up at you. the intensity of such an unearthly gaze is softened by something more vulnerable, almost shy. nervous even.

"wow," you murmur without thinking, the word spilling out as gojo's expression shifts, an unguarded openness replacing the playful smirk that you've seen all evening.

your earlier assessment echoes in your mind: k-pop reject wannabe. the recent memory now feels like quite the injustice, a careless slight against a face that defies easy description. each detail of his face is striking, as if some divine hand had taken special care to sculpt him from the fabric of time and space itself.

gojo seems to sense your analysis, and you're sure that he's parted his lips to speak, but whatever he was about to say falters. that faint flush, pale-red like vermillion watercolour bleeding across a canvas, blooms across his cheeks. gojo's hazy gaze flickers for a second, and it sends a thrill through you. he's affected by this, by you.

it's hard to resist the slow smile that curves your lips, light and playful if only to mask the way your own heart is racing, "are you seriously shy now, gojo?"

gojo's expression shifts again almost immediately, as if that subtle invulnerability has been replaced by something sharper, almost indignant. he sits up a little straighter, the movement making you acutely aware of how the hard planes of his body feel beneath you.

"shy? no," gojo says, his voice steady but edged with some need to defend his honour, "i just...don't usually do this. that's all."

there's a sincerity in his words, an almost begrudging honesty that takes you by surprise. you tilt your head, as your murmur, "i don't either."

before you can second-guess yourself, you tilt your head down. pressing your lips to gojo's in a featherlight kiss. his taste is intoxicating, honey and sweet grapes mingling with a hint of that ridiculous vanilla drink from earlier. you pull back almost as quickly as you leaned in, testing the waters.

but your breath catches when you see that the blue of his eyes has deepened, darkened. and his lips, pink-blush and slightly parted, form a quiet and stunned oh!

"cool," gojo manages, his voice rougher than you expected, and you bite back a laugh as you watch him swallow hard.

"huh, cool?" you echo, your amusement bubbling over, "that's it? that's all you've got?"

gojo's grip on your waist tightens, and his hands are now splayed over your spine. anchoring you to him, as his mouth curves into something sly, though his flushed cheeks betray his composure, "compliments to the chef?"

you shift slightly, pressing more of your weight firmly into his lap. though not yet close enough to situate yourself over his groin, delighting in the way gojo's blush spreads down his neck, staining his skin a shade reminiscent of ripe berries swirling in cream.

you can feel gojo's attention as much as you can see it, how his own gaze lingers, deliberate and unhurried. taking you like a masterpiece that deserves more than a cursory glance. the hand that had been steady on your back shifts, his fingers threading through your hair. he watches as the strands slip and fall beneath his touch.

"thought you said you wanted me, gojo," you tease, though you're certain your voice is betraying the way your pulse is doing its best impression of the macarena in your jugular, "are y'gonna do something or not?"

gojo's gaze snaps back to you, a flicker of something far more intense passing through those impossibly blue eyes. full of hunger, need even. the hand in your hair slides away, only to settle at your jaw. it's warm and steady, his thumb brushing slightly over the plush of your bottom lip.

"i do want you," gojo says, his voice low and steady and maddeningly genuine, "want you to kiss me again. and again. as many times as you want until i forget my own name."

"gojo —"

"satoru," he interrupts, his voice cracking slightly, stripped of any previous swagger. it's unsteady and raw, affected in a way that excites you. sends a dark heat curling low between your thighs, "you can call me that."

"satoru," you repeat softly, letting the syllables fall from your lips, unfurling in the most hazy way.

something within the man shifts. his hand tightens on your waist, dragging you closer in a way that punches the air from your lungs. right over -

oh. the thick, curve of his erection straining against slacks that probably cost more than your monthly salary. it's deliberate, almost desparate at how the invisible thread snapped inside him. unravelled the careful composure he's been clinging to until now.

"go on," gojo murmurs, his voice dark with need, "kiss me again, please."

you lean closer, eyes flickering to his lips, and your pulse roaring in your ears, "who would i be to deny you any wish, satoru?" the words come out more reverent that you'd expected, as if your entire world has been tilted off its axis.

and then you kiss him, hard. desparate. as if his lips are your birthright, a homeland to claim. and gojo's kissing you back, carrying a sweetness that seems both foreign and familiar. in an instant, the weight of another man, a dreary haze in your past, vanishes. gojo is suddenly everything you didn't know you needed, vibrant and electrifying.

"let me know if it's too much," gojo breathes against your lips, his voice shaky as if he's trying to tether himself to the earth. but your kiss deepens, frantic and unrestrained. his mouth moves against yours with a hunger that sends sparks down your spine, and you suddenly realise you quite like the taste of vanilla when it's dripping from his open kisses.

you pull away, for every human needs air. but the sight before you has you clenching your thighs desperately around the bulge where you sit atop. gojo's gaze is heavy, full of that desparate longing that makes your chest ache. his lips are swollen, a soft cherry hue from your kisses. and strands of white hair fall over his blue eyes.

"look what you've done to me, fuck. miss you already," gojo murmurs, and before you can respond, he surges forward, hands pressing against your face with the intensity of a storm. one hand reaches to find the nape of your neck, letting you surrender to the heat of this touch.

you crave more, so much more from gojo, who's taking you in like you're his last breath, his final indulgance. it's as if he's found a new devotion in you, ready to worship you at the alter of your false godhood. but before you can part your mouth to tell him exactly what you and where, gojo's hands are already sneaking under your top, brushing against the trembling skin of your torso.

his teeth are biting down on your lip, leaving you dizzy. and gasping, and so damp in your panties as the fabric of your top is peeled away, and you're left shivering, fighting against the cold of the december air. you find yourself pressing harder into the warmth of his chest, letting the swell of your chest press flat against him.

"shoulda' turned the heat on before we came in," gojo murmurs, breathless as his lips hover a mere centimetre away from yours, "got nothin' to worry about, sweetheart. i'll keep you warm."

"didn't t-think i'd spend christmas eve like this," you gasp, your head lolling to the side as gojo presses open-mouthed kisses to the soft arc of your neck, sensitive even to the cool air.

"no?" gojo's reply is breathy, almost frantic as if he's fumbling in the heat of the moment and has little grasp over the words tumbling out of his mouth, "neither did i. but this? b-better than any fuckin' mission they could've sent me on."

you cock your head, feeling the heat of his clothed cock underneath your thighs, "m-mission, huh? what are you talking about - mmph!" but the rest of the question never escapes your lips for it's swallowed up by another one of gojo's candied kisses.

his rough hands work deftly, finding the clasp of your bra with ease. a pretty crimson thing, almost sheer as it caught the light. and in the centre, a tiny satin bow sat like the final touch on a perfectly wrapped gift. you had only worn it half-heartedly earlier in the morning, some forced christmas cheer for your dreary day ahead.

the look on gojo's face was anything but composed, staring at your cupped tits like you'd knocked the air out of him and his chest rose and fall as though he were remembering how to breathe. in a single fluid motion, your bra is unhooked. the faint metallic click barely audible over the pounding in your chest and he's tossing it aside with a casual flick, his focus entirely on you.

you find yourself mesmerised by his eyes, those swirling pools of blue that seem to have stolen fragments of the sky itself, clouds brushed into cerulean depths with strokes of syrupy smoothness. they're breathtaking, but the thought shatters as gojo's canines graze the flesh of your breasts, a sharp and teasing nip that pulls a gasp from your lips. leaves you rocking sharply against his erection, making him throw his head back, ragged.

the playful string blooms into a flush of heat, and gojo's at it again, his mouth working to leave faint red marks in its wake. you squeal, half in surprise and half in helpless laughter (and entirely in a lusty haze) but gojo only pulls back enough to murmur, "what? can't help myself."

but then he peers at you abruptly, his lips parted as he catches his breath, "wait. do you wanna —?" and gojo tilts his snowy hair towards the shadowy doorway that leads out of the living room, the implication clear even through his panting.

you nod, breathless, "yeah, jus' help me up."

without hesitation, a strong arm slides around your waist, and before you know it, you're being swept into a semi-bridal carry, and your head is resting against the fabric of his dress shirt. not a bad feeling, one you could get used to.

at the doorway, gojo lets out a low 'shit!', nudging the door open with his foot. the faint sound of clattering follows as he kicks something out of the way. you glance down from your entirely too comfortable vantage point, spotting a smattering of cheap tinsel, all glittering in metallic silver and gold, tangled with round baubles that glisten faintly under the dim light.

some have little smears of glue, and uneven glitter patches, as if crafted by unsteady hands, but with earnest effort.

"you big on christmas or something?" you tease, delighting in how the tips of his ears light up like nose of a famous reindeer.

gojo freezes for a moment, almost sheepish as he clears a path, clearly trying to look as macho as possible as he gingerly pushes aside a string of green lights, "made those for my students," he mutters, "thought they'd like them in the classroom tomorrow."

your laugh grows louder, and gojo's brows furrow, his tone growing defensive, "it's a nice surprise for the classroom!"

"i'm not making fun of you!" you insist, leaning up to press a gentle, soothing kiss to the hollow of his collarbone, "it's sweet. i think it's really nice, actually. wait, you're a teacher?"

gojo's mouth quirks up in a faint smile, "something like that," he says cryptically, finally clearing a decent and hazard-free path into a sleek, and clean bedroom. it's all modern space, all clean lines in shades of cream and white, and navy.

gojo sets you down gently, and the plush fabric cradles you as your back lands on fresh linen. and for a quiet, tender moment, you're both caught in the stillness. gojo kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands resting lightly on each of your thighs as if he's anchoring himself there.

his gaze is steady, content, maybe even adoring in a way that feels too intimate for someone who you barely know. there's a warmth in his expression, like he's savouring the sight of you, searching for something — and he's found exactly what he's hoped for.

almost without thinking, you lift a hand, cupping the sides of his face. his skin is warm beneath your palm, soft with the faintest hint of pale stubble that seems to fade into his skin. the moment your hands makes contact, gojo leans into your touch instinctively, his white lashes fluttering closed.

"hey, 'toru," you murmur softly, "y'still with me?"

gojo's eyes snap open at the sound of that, sharp and bright, as if the nickname itself has sparked a challenge in him. a low and almost frustrated sound escapes from the back of his throat, and he presses a feather-light kiss to the inside of your knee.

you don't miss at how his teeth sink into his bottom lip again, worrying and working the plush flesh like he's trying to steady himself. spreading your weeping thighs aside, as his gaze is fixed on something. intense, unwavering. the sheer focus of it making heat creep up your neck.

at how he must be staring hungrily at damp, sheer red fabric that clings to the outline of your cunt. at how it must shimmer almost translucently now, the sticky slick of your arousal enhancing the gloss, making your panties glisten under the light.

you're feeling an unfamiliar kind of shy under the weight of his attention, at how he must see how the fabric clings closely to your puffy, swollen folds — the delicate weave exposing the shape of your taut pussy, practically weeping for his touch.

you needn't have asked, for gojo was already diving into deliver.

he's gliding his index finger over your dripping pussy, letting the tangy syrup sink onto his fingers, leaning in to press a sweet, almost innocent kiss to your clothed cunt, "she seems desperate for me, don'tcha think, heh?"

the sound of the fabric ripping is sharp and wet, a squelching and almost fleshy tone, a sound that's both soft and sharp to the blood rushing between your ears. a strained tear of your beautiful panties, leaving cool air to gently leave a kiss of its own upon your cunt.

you gape at him, a bit too stunned to find coherent words, "hey, what the f-fuck! those were like super expensive!"

gojo rolls his eyes, the kind of look that has a bit too much attitude for someone who's practically begging on his knees for a taste of you, "don't get all huffy on me, sweetheart. 'm gonna buy you more, is tha' alright?"

"i'll r-remember that, satoru," you murmur, giving a sharp tug at his white strands, "you gon' have to give me your number now."

gojo shudders, the muscles in his back rippling underneath his tight shirt, "was already gonna," and he's back to pressing soft, kitten licks to your now exposed folds, small circles over your throbbing clit.

you buck your canting hips closer to the heat of his mouth, to where the pink tip of his teasing tongue peeks out of a pretty mouth, "satoru, c'mon. can't you just, fuck—"

you sharply cry out as he presses his mouth forward, a sudden surge of heat jolting through you. burying himself deep, his nose brushing against the sweet, syrup that coats your pussy, and the rhythmic, wet movements of his tongue send shivers through your entire being.

"mhm, jus' as sweet as you look, baby," gojo gasps, swirling and flicking his tongue, teasing you with every deliberate patter of the muscle near your winking entrance. so messy, slick and you're not sure where he ends and you begin as it all glides together carnally.

gojo seems languidly tipsy, just from munching through the gloss of your cunt, far more intoxicated from your taste than any cheap christmas liquor. he alternates between pushing his tongue past the ring of your tight walls, and then wrapping his lips around the searing pulse of your clit, leaving your hips shaking and dragging over his mouth, smearing yourself over his chin.

you're fisting delicate white locks with fierce urgency, and he hisses and then chuckles into your pussy, "tch! ease up there for me, yeah? jus' move your hips like you were doin' before," and you comply, angling yourself better so he can flatten his tongue against your folds, jaw grinding deeper into you "hah, yeah, just like that."

"taking good care of you though, aren't i? wait, say it. say that 'm making you feel good," and he's bullying a long finger into your gummy walls, clingy and sopping, "say 'm making you feel better than a-anyone ever has," and you just mewl as your arousal must surely be dripping down his forearms, staining the cuffed sleeve of his shirt as he takes your sweet juices down his throat.

there's stars beginning to twinkle at the edge of your vision, and you know you must be close, for your heart is practically dancing a heavy beat against your ribcage, and you suddenly push his mouth away, watching as a clear strand of spit or your slick forms a taut bridge between his mouth and your folds.

"w-wait, satoru, s-stop."

gojo's head lifts, eyes blinking as if coming out of a faze. but then, like a switch, something sharp flickers behind his gaze and concern floods in. his thin brows furrow slightly, glossy lips parting as he reaches out, as if to steady your hips, "you okay, sweetheart? what's wrong?"

your heart stutters, pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. you try to steady your breathing, but the tremour in your fingertips betray you as they gently slide through your hair, the silky strands tangling around your hand.

"nothin' wrong, 'toru. but i was gonna cum," and gojo's face, still flushed and soft with arousal, splits into a shy, amused grin.

"hah, i know. that's what i wanted," he's close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath hitting your aching cunt, but you shake your head again.

"feels unfair, wanna see you too. wan' you to cum in me,"

you watch, almost in awe, as a low and guttural sound escapes gojo satoru, raw and unfiltered. gojo runs his tongue over his lips, his eyes dark with something dangerously close to hunger.

"you sure?" and his voice is hoarse, unsure despite his roaming gaze. you nod, your hands digging into his shoulder, tugging at the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, desparate to feel the warmth of his skin underneath.

his shaky laugh of disbelief only makes you more aroused, whining for him to hurry up, and before you know it, he's standing up, towering over your boneless form on the sheets.

"how could i deny you anything?" he murmurs, echoing your earlier words. gojo's hands reach for the hem, the fabric shifting as he pulls it over his head, revealing a milky expanse of toned skin, smooth and taut over a set of abs that should easily land him on a gq list.

his waist is slender, defined in all the right places, and the soft taper of muscles make your breath catch. but the soft white trail of hair that reaches under his waistband makes your cunt clench.

"y'seem happy with the view, don'tcha?" gojo's voice is teasing, the cocky smirk tugging at his lips, but you can hear the impatience threading his tone now too. he's not as in control as he lets on, his hands now making quick work of his belt, leaving your mouth dry when he finally pushes his black boxers down.

you should have known that his cock would be as pretty and unfairly gorgeous as the rest of him. he's circling the strawberry-red tip, glowering and throbbing, right over your gathered slick, coating it and smacking the mushroom head in a thwack! over your poor clit, leaving you jolting as he laughs and leans down to kiss you sweetly once more.

"jus' look at me, yeah?" his drawl is slow, lazy and so ruined. at the first inch of his throbbing cock that slips through your walls, he looks utterly undone. a mess of sharp edges softened by something far more primal and raw.

gojo's head tips back, exposing the elegant line of his neck as the moonlight cascades over you, "hey, sweetheart, 's not too much, yeah?"

hazy blue eyes bore into you, and for a brief moment, in the time it takes for the lightning to strike the earth, you swear that his eyes glow. almost radiant and jewel-like, with cerulean fractals shimmering as if they're emitting life of their own. perhaps its simply the electrifying stretch of inches that's rendering you to hallucinate, whining as your nails find purchase in milky skin and rippling shoulders.

"i-it's big, 'toru," you pant, feeling him almost shudder at the clipped name again, as he grips the base of his cock to bully the final inch in, sighing in contentment as he finally bottoms out, with a wet pop!

gojo looks feral like this, heaving a breath through his mouth as though the air is being taken from him from every second he spends stretching you out on his fat shaft, "hah, 'm glad, i'm so glad i met you tonight, sweetheart. fuck, fuck, y'feel i-incredible."

he's pushing your thighs further back, running his hands over the plush skin, leaving bruising red prints that won't disappear tomorrow as you moan, wanton into his open mouth, letting gojo run his lips down your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

you're practically now folded in half under the bulk of his weight, feeling stars collide in absolutely astrophysical ways, impaled further on the long and thick length of his cock, "in so deep, s-satoru."

seems that gojo is a man of little mercy, for he seems only all the more invigorated by your squeals, drawing his torso back to watch the hypnotic smack of skin on skin, of your slick and creamy froth creating fresh rings over his pistoning cock.

he's entirely out of control, as you feel your body go limp from the pleasure shooting through every nerve and pore.

depraved.

you don't realise you might have let that slip out loud, so dizzy in your cockdrunk haze because gojo's suddenly ramming himself roughly in you, as though he was desperate to have his cock kiss your cervix, to feel for every divot and nook of your cunt's walls.

"d-depraved, hah. people call me, fuck, p-people call me a lotta things, sweetheart," and gojo's so good with it, letting your pussy have not even one moment to take reprieve, having you feel each vein and bulge of his cock, "but depraved is n-new."

the hand that was dancing over your thighs flies to your swollen, aching clit. practically glistening for his attention, and his attention you did receive, "right, t-there! 'toru, mmph!" you're trying to splay your legs wider, giving his quick hand more room to swirl tight circles where you needed him most.

your double-vision gaze lingers on the ripple of his muscles, the way his arms flex and shift as he seems intent on angling you just right for him to drill his cock over and over, at some freakish and feverish pace, "y'so good, gojo," you purr, and your nails curl against his arms, pressing just enough to leave tiny crescents in his skin, the faint dampness of his exertion clinging to him, "s-so strong!"

something shifts. the glow is back, electric blue flooding his eyes like crackling storm clouds. it's almost unnerving, this unearthly brightness, as if he's some ancient god wrapped up in human skin, and you've just stumbled into a divine revelation.

gojo stills for the briefest moment, the thick head of his cock snagging on your puffy folds as he draws himself almost entirely out. the absence of motion makes you whine, an airy and impatient sound escaping your throat. that hesitation feels like a tease, like a string that's been pulled so taut, before he finally dives forward, capturing your mouth in a messy, heated kiss. sloppy in its disregard.

"s-so strong, huh?" gojo's voice is rough, shaky, as though he's trying to centre himself but your tight pussy holds him in hypnotic sway, "y-you think so? think i'm the strongest?" his lips brush yours as he speaks, and there's something almost boyish and charming in the way that he seems to be fishing for a compliment, despite the low heat in his voice.

you pull back from his wet, spit-stringed lips. just enough to wrap your hands around his neck and push him closer, deeper into you as he gutturally groans, "if i s-say yes, are y'gonna keep showing off?"

gojo's laugh is short, breathless, "y-yeah, wanna see?"

he makes quick work of pushing himself back into you, pumping himself so far in that your slick must be painting and sopping the white hairs at the base of his cock almost translucent, "o-oh my god, 'toru, fuck, oh my god!" the stretch has your head spinning, as if the skies are parting above you, and you're melodramatically left to see the light of divinity as gojo bucks his hips harshly into you. as if he's too far gone, needs to prove himself to you with a good fuck.

"you h-have to say it," gojo stutters, his words tumbling out so quickly, like rough gravel, "say it, fuck, c'mon. say i'm — say i'm the s-strongest. you have to, hnghh, god. please, jus' agree, okay?" his voice is cracking, that cocky veneer entirely shattered under the weight of his rambling desperation as he practically rummages through your sopping insides, "y-you feel it right, i mean, you can feel me — i mean."

a high whine escapes your throat as his pace becomes almost olympian, and you wonder faintly how you haven't managed to sprain a muscle or break a bone yet, how he hasn't managed to shatter something with the sheer pace and force of how gojo satoru fucks, "hah, 'toru. i'm —"

"close? g-god, i hope so. 's what i want. nothing, like n-nothing feels better than this right?" his words are falling out of him in a messy, pussydrunk rush, his eyes flickering between your face and down to where your pussy lips are bulged around his shaft, "so good, right? the b-best thing you've ever —"

you truthfully don't even hear the rest of his words, blood absolutely roaring and rearing in your ears, your ribcage as you feel the tight coil snap, letting out short, slurred snaps of his name when you cum. as he doesn't quite let up on smacking his hips right against your ass, "s-satoru, 's getting s-sensitive, oh, fuck. fuck!"

he's suddenly whining, with pleading and erratic blue eyes chasing after you, sloppily pushing down so he can gasp and pant into your open mouth, before capturing you in a heart-stopping kiss as he finally gets milked dry by your pulsing and fluttering walls. in awe of how creamy white is practically leaking out of you, dripping a stringy trail over the flesh of your thighs.

you're agape at how utterly fucked he looks right now, though you're certain you do not look much better as fat tears prick at your eyes, streaming past your ears from the overstimulation, "s-still fillin' me up, 'toru. god, do ya always cum this much?"

at first, you don't even get a response from gojo who just sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, almost as if he's trying not to cry out, but then he's back to circling your clit with a rough hand, "makin' me sound like some kinda whore, s-sweetheart. 'n and i told you. don't do this m-much."

and now he's slowing down, pleasurably painful bucks of his hips keeping glossy, white seed in you. ensuring that it coats your entire entrance, "an' it's not my fault that she," and here, he gives your clit a small smack! grinning like a madman, "n-not my fault that she's so, hah, addictive."

each tight circle of his hand on your clit sends you hurtling into yet another orgasm, one that has you begging gojo for mercy, repreive, for more. an orgasm that has him whispering the sweetest nothings into your ear, "d-don't worry, gotcha like this. gonna let you rest n-now, jus' gotta relax for me."

by the time he's slipping his still somehow hard cock out of your creamed cunt, you can feel exhaustions heavy and caring hands caress you, rendering your body limp and boneless. your eyes heavy and hazy, but you can feel a soft ghost of gojo's kiss over the shell of your ear, "h-hope y'still here in the morning, sweetheart. don't leave, yeah?"

the morning sunlight filters through the blinds, and despite the ache in your limbs that cricks your bones, you drag yourself out of bed. christmas day, after all. you've thrown on gojo's dress shirt from last night, snug enough to flutter around your hips, but oversized enough around the shoulders to let you drown in it.

it's cozy though, and even the chilly air feels refreshing against the warmth clinging to you. gojo is still sound asleep, and you had smiled at how he took little puffs of air as he was passed flat out in bed. but you always like to be up early on christmas, and there's something about the holiday that makes you feel like you need to earn the right to nap later.

you wander around the bedroom for a bit, stretching your legs as your muscle protest in earnest. eventually, you decide to make your way to that kitchen. breakfast, right.

it seems like a good idea, especially considering the last thing in your stomach was a questionably sour vodka. so you pull open the fridge, expecting something befitting of this apartment. perhaps a slab of wagyu beef, a tin of caviar, a thick block of pistachio-cream dubai chocolate. you'd even settle for sushi.

instead, you're left staring back at a stack of candy canes, some strawberry yoghurt, a carton of milk and some fast food wrappers. despite your protesting stomach, a deep amusement washes over you. it doesn't surprise you that gojo would have a fridge stocked with food you'd find at a child's birthday party and a greasy diner.

still, breakfast is in order and because you can't help it, you pull out a candy cane and start unwrapping it. you're just about take a bite when you hear the unmistakable pad of footsteps. you turn, face to face with someone who would clearly not be out of place on a vogue covershoot.

gojo hasn't tossed on a shirt, and the sunlight filters over his chiselled physique before your sight is stolen by the loose sheet wrapped around his waist. delicious. you try to snap your gaze back to his face, but it's hard to not track your gaze down his torso, like a cat eyeing a particularly irresistible sunbeam.

"good morning to you too," gojo says, a grin curling his lips, "what are you doing?" his voice is still thick with interrupted sleep, laced with a morning rasp that forces you to ground yourself and stop falling prey to the god, eros and his machinations.

"breakfast, 'm starving."

"don't bother," gojo says, shaking his head, "we can go somewhere nice for breakfast. like real, actual food. don't think you want half-eaten yoghurt."

you nod enthusiastically, mind turning back to the peeling seal of the strawberry yoghurt with a spoon sticking out of it. but then, something else catches your mind's attention. a little curiosity piques, one that you cannot help but ask him.

"wait," you begin, snapping your teeth around the saccharine mint of the candy cane, "y'know what's crazy. like, i swear your eyes glowed last night. not even in a silly compliment way, but like electricity. i thought i was like, losing it.'

you expect gojo to brush it off with a wink, or maybe laugh it off like you're just teasing him. but instead, the man's face shifts, that cocky smile faltering for the briefest moment. it's gone so fast that you think you almost imagined it. but why does he look...almost guilty?

before you can process that, you realised you've leaned yourself over the counter, and in your absent-mindedness, your elbow presses a button on the answering machine. a small beep, and suddenly, a voice blares through the room,

"hey, gojo-sensei!" comes a high-pitched, distinctly teenage voice, an excited boy who sounds a little crackly over the speaker, "so, we found this grade one curse yesterday...and uh, we totally got rid of it. we were gon' call you, but you didn't pick up. but i almost got my arm torn off. wait, no! that sounds dramatic, i got shoko to look at it anyway. so what we're all wondering right is that we don't have to hand in any homework now right? as like reparations?"

the voice crackles off, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. you stand there, absolutely dumbstruck, staring at the answering machine like it's about to burst into flames or start singing christmas carols.

gojo, meanwhile, has the most awkward look on his face, clearly caught between embarrassment...and what? panic, amusement?

"satoru, what the fuck?"

he looks at you for a moment, but instead of speaking, he lets out a long and exasperated sigh before pulling out one of the counter chairs, "you're gonna want to sit down for this one, sweetheart."

[mbat]

ITS SO INFURIATING FOR SOMETHING TO BE SO OBVIOUS TO ME BUT OTHER PEOPLE DONT GET IT AAAAAAAA

[misskamelie]

This is great, I may have found the Wikipedia page about what's currently going on with me :)