#its more troublesome than it sounds

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 · 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦

contents: smut. minors dni 18+. reader wears a nightgown to subtly get the message across. attempt at seduction. lots of teasing and kissing. first time with him. size difference. fingering. borderline overstimulation. vaginal penetration. mostly sweet lovemaking but implications of leading to rougher sex. sylus has a huge dick (he is standing at 6’2 after all). 2.9k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ based off of this arranged marriage sylus x wife!reader post but can be read as a standalone. smut writing is never one of my strengths but I had fun with this one!! and I can only hope it’s an enjoyable read to those who were anticipating a sequel 🤍꒱

“Doing a little late night reading?” Sylus glances at your form through his peripheral as you enter his bedroom with a light skip in your steps. He’s perched at the end of his bed with a high profile report in hand, and with a tilt of your head and prying eyes you hover over the document between his fingers as you stand before him. You skim through a few lines before he tosses it aside, murmuring that it’s nothing of importance when something more interesting happens to catch his attention and you feel the heat of his gaze doing you a once-over.

Your cheeks warm and you feel a tad shyness wash over you when he quietly appraises your body clad in a gorgeous silk slip with lace embellishments. He hums in appreciation, a slow smirk curling on his lips before he reaches out to grasp your waist and pull you forward onto his lap. He secures one arm around you to keep you in place and his thumb sweeps over the delicate sleepwear and the bare skin of your thigh in a soft, languid motion. “You’ll catch a cold in just your nightgown, kitten. Or did you wear it for me?”

“Maybe I just wanted to change into something a little more comfortable.” You respond with a coy smile and playful shrug of your shoulder which causes the thin strap to fall from just a whisper of movement. He enjoys your little display and act of innocence if this is your way of telling him that you want to deepen the relationship through shared intimacy like normal marital couples do during this time of night. And truthfully, he’s been waiting far too long for this moment to come but he didn’t expect you to offer yourself on a silver platter. What a sweet and precious wife you are.

“I’m sure you could find something more suitable than a flimsy nightgown.” His knuckles brush up along your arm and hooks the fallen strap around his finger to slide it back into its proper place. “But then, perhaps you wanted to tease me, too?”

You click your tongue in disappointment. No matter what you do he was always two steps ahead of you—it’s thoughtful yet infuriating especially when you want him to act more surprised. “Nothing ever gets passed by you, it seems.”

His large hand slips under the lace trimmings of your nightgown and moves closest to your backside for a firm squeeze. “You should know by now how badly I want you, sweetheart. And with you sitting in my lap, looking breathtaking like that. I’m tempted to just rip this little thing off of you.”

You purse your lips into a small pout that’s adorable to him and grunt in disapproval. “What if this night dress is one of my favorites? Don’t I get a say in what you can and can’t tear?”

He arches a brow as though to challenge you by putting the theory into practice. You keep forgetting that he could read you like an open book, and he loves nothing more than proving you wrong at every chance. “Are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy it if I did? I’ll buy you new ones. Better ones.”

You mull over at the thought. “Sounds troublesome. I’ll have to keep making these frequent shopping trips.”

“I just mean the nightgown is in the way of me seeing all of you. You’re more than welcome to wear it any other time, but right now… I want it off.”

“Well, it’s only fair you make the next move.” He groans lowly when you shift your weight in his lap and rest your head against him. You drag your manicured finger down his chest and gently flick at the silver chain looped between his collar. “I did come all this way just for you.”

He understood your meaning and leans down close enough so his warm breath fans over your lips when he tilts your chin to look at him. “If you want me to take off my clothes, you’ll have to undress me yourself.” The soft spoken words in his deep voice send a tingle to the back of your brain, and the lingering kiss he places on the corner of your mouth adds a fluttering sensation in your stomach.

“Still making me work for it? And here I thought I would be cherished and wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.” You bring yourself upright and shove him down onto the bed to climb over him and straddle him. He gives you a knowing smirk at the sound of your cute gasp when you feel just how hard he is for you against your clothed cunt. You make quick work of undoing the underlay of buttons tucked beneath the thick fabric of his tailored dress shirt and remove it entirely to reveal every bit of lean muscle. His build akin to that of a spectacularly sculpted marble statue down to the details of his veins on his strong arms.

“Making you work for it is half the fun, kitten. But just remember who will be putting in the most work tonight.” His hand wanders up your thigh again and moves along the curve of your waist, the expensive silk bunches under his touch and he gropes the fullness of your breast. You feel the strap loosen around your shoulder once more. “Are you liking what you’re seeing? You’re allowed to mark what’s yours, you know. But I’d like to be able to mark you as mine too, wife.” His hungry eyes slowly roam over your matching panties and midriff before he returns your gaze.

Your smaller hand covers his knuckles meanwhile his thumb brushes across your nipple and he revels in the feeling of the bud hardening over the material. “You’re just always so straightforward, aren’t you?” You sensually wrap your finger around the other strap that’s perfectly intact and at your cue Sylus glides his hand down to the small of your back and watches as the dress cascades down to your midsection.

“And you’re so beautiful.” You’re a heavenly sight to behold with the way his amorous stare commits your very existence to his memory, particularly the swell of your lovely breasts that’s heavy with lust and begging for more of his attention. He gently reaches for your wrist and his fingers smooth under your palm to bring your hand up to his face. His thumb runs over the wedding band that binds you to him laying a light kiss against your knuckles, then places your hand over his shoulder waiting for your next move.

You don’t waste another second closing the distance between you two and crash your lips against his for a needy and desperate kiss. Your fingers tangle into his silver locks and your heat grinds against him hoping for some semblance of relief from the ache that’s building inside you. You feel him envelop your breasts fully with each caress and tender squeeze and a little bit of nipple play.

Sylus tastes faintly of sweet, tannic notes from the lingering aftertaste of red wine as your tongue meets his through parted lips. His arms and hands alternate between hugging your body and grip tightening on your hips, bucking himself up into your heat. You feel yourself needing more, wanting more and being closer to him so you hurriedly unbuckle his belt and suddenly the sound of fabric tearing reaches your ears.

You muffle in surprise against his lips and push him back just enough to see him wearing a smug expression. “I should’ve known you’d go against my wishes.” You scoff in disbelief and yet there’s a grin playing across your features that betrays your earlier words. You hate to admit he was right from the start—that you’d find the ripping more attractive instead of being carefully unwrapped like you both have all the patience in the world.

Sylus discards the now ruined piece of clothing aside. He lifts you with ease and your back embraces the cool sheets when he drops you down on the mattress and returns to his full height. “I was never one to follow rules. Besides, you look perfect like this.” You support yourself up on your elbows to follow his movements, and any smart comeback you have dies in your throat when he picks up where you left off by unfastening his belt and stripping out of his trousers. His boxer briefs follow suit and he thinks it’s adorable how you look mesmerized from this performance alone.

Your eyes settle on his huge cock. Almost gawking at it and you unconsciously clench your thighs together. It’s perfectly proportioned to the rest of him—long and notably thicker with an upward center curve and a few prominent veins here and there. He flushes a pretty shade of red that’s gradient from the head down and his pubes are neatly trimmed.

“You don’t have to look so scared, kitten.” He rasps an amused chuckle, and he feels you tense slightly when his hand scales up along your knee to your inner thigh and he dips his fingers between your legs. “I’ll take my time with you so you can handle me.”

Your breath hitches when he feels how drenched you are through your panties. He offers a gratified hum, his handsome face and broad shoulders become your main focus as he closes in on you. “Spread your legs wider.” He murmurs into your ear, and as soon as you give him more access he delves into your mouth for a bruising kiss and chases you down onto the bed. His ministrations on your clit feel absolutely sinful yet so wonderful and your arm wrap around his back meanwhile your hand explores the muscled panels of his upper body and the areas that are within your reach.

A string of saliva connects you both then disappears as your lips come apart. But he doesn’t stray far when the exquisite look on your face is a breath away and he pulls your panties aside to collect your arousal with two digits sliding through your puffy folds. Your lustful sounds escape in a warm exhale as soon as he slowly inserts his thick fingers into your tight pussy, and you’re quite the vision arching your back so tastefully.

“Mmh, that f-feels so good, Sylus.” Your eyes glaze over when he steadily pumps in and out of you, curling so deliciously at your sweet spot and he marvels at the way your cunt is greedily sucking in his fingers. There’s nothing else like him, the way he stretches you and reaches the deeper parts and hits the bits you can’t yourself. He adores the breathless sighs and mewls of his name when he pushes you to the edge even more while kissing you senselessly.

“You sound beautiful. I love the way my name tastes on your lips.” You can feel him smirk against you, but you’re too immersed in your pleasure to respond in words that aren’t broken syllables. He trails open-mouth kisses down to your jawline and along the column of your neck, grazing his teeth and softly sucking on your skin until hues of velvet purple form. Your head burrows into the soft cushion of the mattress, hips squirming as your hand clutches onto his forearm from tension coiling inside you.

“M’gonna come soon, Sy—!” Your pretty moans and pants grow heavier each second, and he loves feeling your body quiver when you’re pressed under him. He’s still knuckles deep inside you with every intention of bringing you up to heaven and back down to him. After all, he doesn’t believe in doing things halfway but can’t pass an opportunity to tease his darling wife.

“You’re getting so close already? I barely got started with you, sweetie.” He chuckles lowly yet his cock twitches as precum oozes and leaks down from the slit of his tip. “Don’t hold it in now. Let go and come for me.”

He’s met with your gorgeous o-face when the euphoric bliss courses through your entire body as your walls tighten around his fingers. Your moans turn into squeals and you try to shove his hand away to soften your orgasm but he doesn’t budge from being much stronger than you. The feeling is more than you can handle when your thighs clamp together to stop his movements. But you don’t want the addictive sensation to leave just yet when he borderline overstimulates you, turning you into a trembling and writhing mess.

You barely have a moment to catch your breath when a chortle escapes you from watching him bring his fingers coated in your cum to his mouth for a curious taste. “Mm. Sweet, just as I thought. You did great, kitten.” He leans down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead, and the first wave of your drawn-out release slowly ebbs away. “Don’t you think you deserve one more?” Sylus pulls your soaked panties down your legs and casts them aside, leaving you completely bare under his gaze.

“I should hope so. Been wanting for you to stuff me with your fat cock tonight.” You’re still a little breathless when your finger glides down his toned chest in a sensual and playful manner. He makes a content hum at the sound of that with an upward quirk of his lips.

“What a bold and resilient wife I have on my hands. As long as I have you, I’ll never be bored again.” He gladly hoists your leg to wrap around his waist and spits down, giving himself a few strokes making it slick before aligning himself to your dripping cunt. His precum mixes with the remnants of your previous climax with the heavy drag of his tip from your opening up along your clit. He revels in the way your body responds with a little spasm. “I won’t have you going back on your words now.”

The flutter of your lashes steers away from his deep and enigmatic eyes, a nervous gnaw of your lower lips as you anticipate the painful stretch from taking him. “Go slow, okay? Because you know…” He knew you were implying about his sheer size, and you feel him grab hold of your hand and press your interlaced hand against the bed beside your head.

He captures your swollen lips that feel entirely too sweet and intimate, replacing your worries with a gentle tangle of his encompassing love and adoration that seeps into your soul. “I wouldn’t dream about hurting you. That’s a promise. But you have to let me in first.” Your breath hitches when his aching tip probes your entrance, yet the tension doesn’t leave your body until he tells you to focus on him with the exchange of kisses laced with a growing insistence. “You’ll let me know if it hurts, kitten? I want to make you feel good.”

With that said, your sharp nails dig into his shoulder blade and draw red lines at the burning stretch that feels too much yet so good at the same time. Your soft sighs and whimpers fill the hazy room and he’s fucking you slowly with just the tip to help ease the initial discomfort. He searches your face every now and again making sure you’re okay before he continues, letting out a guttural moan when he slips in a little more with each thrust until he carves his way into you completely.

“You’re in too deep—hah. Feel so full and good.” You shudder when he stills his movements, throbbing cock nestled inside you to the hilt and kissing your cervix. There’s a carnal desire brewing in his stomach seeing you pinned under his weight keeping him nice and warm. He wouldn’t mind spending the entire night with you, any plans and commitments he had prior be damned the moment you swayed in through the double doors. “Want you to m-move, please.”

The sound of your polite begging makes him twitch involuntarily, and he could only imagine what desperate pleas you have in store for him tonight and he’s looking forward to it. When your pretty lips implore him to fuck you faster and harder he won’t be able to hold back. After all, he has always been ready and waiting to give himself to you that aligns with your willingness to accept him. There is no love purer than his, this craving he has reserved only for you. “You know you only have to ask, and I’ll give you everything you want. Just be careful what you wish for, sweetie.”

Sylus chuckles at your cute whine shortly after—such a needy little thing you are. He falls into a sweet and slow rhythm that makes you feel each thrust, the head of his dick down to its shape and following the shaft that caresses the underside of your pleasure endings so incredibly good. Your legs wrap around his back and you pull him in deeper because close just isn’t close enough for you. You need to feel the heat of his body sear against your skin as you hold him, and in turn you feel him squeeze your interlaced hand. “Tonight, you’re all mine. Forget anyone else in the world but me.”

[kokoa-la]

Ngl I just find it so funny if Danny just accidentally becomes friends with someone trying to rob him like-

___________________________________

“Get up!”

And he was up, hands above his head and everything. The guy in all black proceeded to pat him down along his pockets while pointing a gun at him otherwise. 

“How do you not have a wallet on you?”

“I’m a college student, I can barely afford tuition.”

That’s a lie, he was on a full ride scholarship, but they didn’t need to know that. 

“Oh you too?”

Did this bitch just say ‘you too’ ? No way.

“‘You too?’ Are you doing this to pay for college???”

Ancients, the school system sucked if he had to resort to crime for this.

“Yeah- you wouldn’t believe how expensive my major is, the textbooks alone cost more than my rent!”

“Holy shit, no kidding. Yeah, why are textbooks so expensive? Why am I paying hundreds of dollars for something that could have been a 2 dollar pdf?”

“Right! I tried asking my professor instead, but he said he’d fail me if I didn’t have the right materials! It’s driving me nuts. Like how am I supposed to pay for all this?”

How Dannt started making conversation with his own robber, he didn’t know, but he was happy to finally complain with someone. He hadn’t exactly made friends since he got here.

“Personally I buy used books, and the more trashed they are, the cheaper. Then, you can just use the pdf version but still have the textbook in class. It’s honestly so much easier. Or you can see if you can borrow it from the library and just bring it in for the classes he checks it, then return it after to avoid the fees. That option is a bit more troublesome though.”

“Oh shit, no way! That’s awesome, I never thought of that, thanks man! Man, I wish I talked to you sooner.” 

“Yeah, it’s all good, maybe just avoid the crime after this? There’s tons of online jobs you can do during class and stuff. I don’t know, there’s always another option than crime. You sound like a good guy, just desperate.”

The robber turned friend (?) lowered his gun and sighed before returning the items in the bag to everyone. He then apologized to the cashier and then to everyone else before giving Danny a hug (how long had it been since he’d gotten one of those?) and leaving. Danny was so proud of him he almost cried (again). 

______________

I know it's a bit weird and out of place, but that's bcs its a snippet from a fic I'm writing on ao3 😭

But still, I need more of Danny befriending ppl trying to jump/rob him

[jasmineoolongtea]

― if you think i'm pretty 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚

― the ways in which they lay their hands on you and can't stop thinking about it ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuuta x gn!reader, headcanons/brief drabbles, quite suggestive (all characters are aged up!!!!), a lot of touching, making out, both reader and characters are needy and down bad for each other what can i say a/n: inspired by if you think i'm pretty by artemas and baby by madison beer, as you can see, i was very inspired for some of them compared to others so don't mind the difference in length djkajdwd

gojo satoru can't help but have his hands on you at all times. it's a genuine problem. some might even call it a disease or affliction, a deadly illness if you want to go that far.

whatever it is, he doesn't think he wants to find a cure for it. not when he can so easily coax out those wonderful sounds from you with the brush of his fingertips, those noises that are reserved just for him even though you try and deny it, and especially not when you decide you want to try and turn the tables on him.

that's how he finds himself underneath you on the floor of an abandoned office, his wrists pinned above his head as a devilish smirk graces his features. you're hovering above him, one hand locking his troublesome hands in place while the other is pressed against the cold floor to support your stance. right now, he's thinking about how this might be one of his favourite angles to look at you from.

he knows you're trying to tease him back, testing his patience and will to resist like he does with you, in a sort of punishment for his wandering hands but he can't even hide how much he's visibly enjoying this moment. it annoys you, deeply. you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, shifting your weight onto your knees to free up your other hand so you can run it down from his neck and stopping just right where his belt sits which earns you a breathy gasp from him.

you smile to yourself, clearly pleased at your own doing. but you don't have long to celebrate your victory as it seems you've underestimated how thin his patience runs when it comes to you. in an instance and in one fell swoop, you're flipped onto your back as satoru is now the one caging you against the floor. your faces are barely inches from each other when he leans in, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear as he whispers,

"it's my turn now."

geto suguru thinks apologies are useless. in most cases, he rather you show him instead.

to him, words often get in the way of many things and even more so when emotions come into the mix, scrambling them up to the point where they are nothing more than regurgitated word vomit. he's a firm believer in the phrase, actions speak louder than words, and he's definitely not shy about carrying out said belief in his daily life.

why tell you how much he wants you when he can simply show you through how his hand never seems to leave your waist even in the most crowded of places and how his lips seem to find yours in an instance as if he's worried that they might miss his company even if just for a second.

the same goes for you. why tell him how sorry you are when you can just show him? and so you do, caressing his jaw with your fingertips while your lips roam the expanses of his neck and collarbones, making it their sole mission to map out and commit each curve and mark to memory. every kiss you place is an apology in its own way and it makes the both of you forget what you two were even in arms over anyway.

"satisfied yet, sugu?" you murmur against his skin, the sound of your voice sending tiny vibrations that grants you a pleased hum from him.

too bad for you, it turns out that he's tough to please, or rather just tough to fully satiate his seemingly insatiable appetite for you.

"not yet. actually, far from it."

kento nanami is pretty sure that you're trying to punish him for something he did.

maybe it was because he didn't tell you what was truly on his mind when he came home from work last night in fear or burdening you with worries or maybe it was because he didn't touch you then, even though he knew that you were looking too good for no one to be touching you like they should.

but whatever it is, he knows that whatever you are doing, it's dangerous.

you two were in public, wide out in the open. he could feel his breath hitch in his throat as you nudge your heel against him, dragging lazy lines up and down his leg and stopping just right next to his upper thigh before disappearing again underneath the cover of the table. as usual, you offer him no visible reaction that could possible give away your true intentions to him, just a ghost of a coy smile on your lips.

was this fun for you? to test his resolve as a gentleman, drawing it thinner and thinner into a taught line ready to snap at any second? or did you just want to see first-hand what it would be like to see come undone from your actions alone. knowing you, it would probably be the latter but he could never know for sure as it seemed that he would inexplicably always play into your hand.

with each lingering touch wherever you could get your hands on and each teasing glance at his necktie, as if you were already trying to undress him with your eyes, he had never wanted to throw caution and any ounce of public decency he still had at this point and return the favour to you.

god, you were going to be the death of him.

fushiguro megumi thinks that you're a handful and isn't shy about making it known to you.

it doesn't help him at all, of course, only earning him a sly grin from you as you continue with your wandering touches and teasing kisses, lingering on certain areas such as right under his jaw where you know you can elicit a low breathy groan from him. he tries to hide his reaction in an attempt to not give you more fuel to continue but he fails every time with his body betraying him as the tips of his ears seem to grow impossibly redder and he even finds himself subconsciously leaning into your touch.

in response to his words, all you say is, "hmm maybe, but that's what hands are for." as if to prove your point, you entangle one of his hands with yours, pulling it closer towards you and placing it right in the middle of your chest like you were inviting him to do some of his own exploration himself. he avoids your gaze, knowing the moment he made eye contact he would be done for and whatever was holding him back now would shrivel into nothing in an instant.

you giggle softly to yourself, showcasing your obvious amusement at how much he's trying to prove that he's stronger than this. you lean in closer towards him, your faces barely centimetres apart as you murmur, "and last time i checked, i'm pretty sure you have two of them."

that's when he makes his fatal mistake, looking down to see your plump lips just a breath away from his and noticing how your eyelashes flutter softly as you, in turn, look up at him through them. he can imagine your body on his lips and that's all that it takes him to use his free hand and to close the distance between you two as your lips crash against each other.

screw this, he doesn't want to wait anymore.

okkotsu yuuta is obsessed with you to the point where to others, it could be seen as concerning. thankfully for the both of you, he's never been much to care for other's opinions.

it doesn't matter if you manage to kill him, whether intentionally or unintentionally, because no matter what, he'll just come back more obsessed with you. a fact that he so clearly demonstrates whenever you're around him.

"p-please," he mumbles against your lips, his fingers tightening their grip around your cheek, "don't go." his voice is shaky with a tinge of desperation and his pupils are so enlarged with his unquenchable thirst and desire for you that you've lost track of the whites of his eyes. to him, even parting for a breath of air when it comes to you is a painful act that causes his heart to ache and swell.

yuta's never been much of a sweet tooth but he thinks you taste like the sweetest candy that could ever exist and it's as if you're covered in a layer of sugarcoating he wants to be the only person who has the privilege of being able to lick it off with his own lips. your hand snakes its way up his arm and around his neck, pulling him tighter into your grasp and he takes this as his cue to dive back into your lips.

at this point, he's no better than an addict with how much he's greedily devouring you with his mouth, wholeheartedly consuming you with every fibre of his being as his tongue desperately awaits to explore more of you and see if this is the only place that you taste sweet. all good things in this world cost something and you're no exception but whatever the price is, he doesn't care because he'll pay for it.

hopefully, he's planning to repay it now in his own sort of way.

[vipetas]

ii. the radio's revival

It was odd. Ever since that chance encounter with the Radio Demon, he’s been gracing your doorstep more often than you had expected. You were just doing your job, after all, fixing that radio of his. But he seemed to interpret that as an invitation rather than the transaction that it was.

Whether he was cursed with inexplicable bad luck or if it was simply a series of coincidences, you couldn't say for sure, at least not in the beginning. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, and Alastor kept coming back, each time with a new contraption for you to fix, you couldn't help but come to a conclusion.

He was breaking things on purpose.

The sinister Radio Demon, with his daunting reputation and predatory grin, was breaking things on purpose. All for the sake of visiting your humble little workshop in the slums.

You couldn't decide whether to feel flattered or victimized. Hell, you couldn’t even begin to fathom what drew him back to your workshop time and again. Yet, as the routine continued, you also couldn’t deny that Alastor didn’t seem as terrifying as you once believed him to be. Gradually, you became accustomed to his presence. In fact, you even found yourself looking forward to his visits, often preparing a cup of coffee for him as you worked while he observed.

Today was no different. As you diligently worked on repairing an antique pocket watch, your attention kept drifting to the window, where sinners of all shapes and sizes strolled along the bustling street. Your keen eyes searched for a splash of red amidst the passersby, and your ears strained for the familiar sound of the bell above your door. Yet, neither sight nor sound came.

And as you affixed the final gears of the pocket watch into place, Alastor had yet to make an appearance. You glanced at the untouched, now-cold coffee cup, and despite your efforts to suppress it, disappointment began to seep into your heart.

Alastor strode through the dimly lit corridors of the hotel, his thoughts consumed by a singular objective: to find something–anything–that he could lay his hands on.

He knew it was silly. Preposterous even. For him, of all people, to resort to such childish behavior! But there was a restlessness gnawing at him, an insatiable craving for something he couldn’t quite name.

Ever since his fingers grazed against yours in that fleeting moment of contact, Alastor found himself haunted by the memory. It was as if a dormant ember had been reignited within him, sparking a firestorm of conflicting and inexplicable emotions. He couldn’t understand it, couldn’t fathom why a simple touch had stirred such chaos within his usually composed heart.

And frankly, he didn’t really care to dwell on it. To acknowledge the depth of his confusion would be to admit weakness, a notion he found utterly intolerable. Besides, there were more pressing matters at hand–like finding something to break, for instance.

Turning corner after corner, Alastor reached the hotel’s parlor, a space usually abuzz with activity. However, to his surprise, the room now seemed to be eerily deserted.

The armchairs sat empty, their plush cushions undisturbed by the weight of occupants. The grand piano stood silent in the corner, its keys untouched and gathering dust. Not even a whisper stirred the air, leaving the parlor feeling desolate and abandoned.

And then, he spotted it–the TV, perched precariously upon a nearby table. Alastor’s grin, stretched wide across his face, threatened to split his features in sheer delight. It was perfect–he had been itching for an opportunity to destroy that troublesome picture box, and this presented the ideal occasion.

Crossing the room with determination, Alastor's fingers curled around the edges of the TV, his excitement palpable as he prepared to deliver the final blow. But just as he lifted it off the table, a stern voice cut through the silence.

“Alastor!” Vaggie scolded. “How many times have I told you not to touch the TV?”

Alastor's grin remained firmly in place as he turned to face Vaggie, exchanging glances between her stern expression and the television in his grasp. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and then, without breaking eye contact, he slowly loosened his hold on the television, letting it drop to the ground with a resounding crash.

The impact shattered the screen, creating a spider web of cracks that spread in all directions, while the plastic casing splintered open with a loud snap. Vaggie's jaw dropped in disbelief as she stared at the wreckage before her, her eyes widening in shock. Alastor's grin only stretched further.

“Oops,” he said, his tone laced with mock innocence. “My hand must have slipped.”

The commotion of the shattered TV drew Charlie into the parlor like a magnet, her expression a mix of shock and dismay as she took in the scene before her.

“What in the–Alastor, what's gotten into you?” she exclaimed as she approached, her footsteps quickening as her eyes darted between the broken TV and the Radio Demon standing nearby. “You can't keep breaking everything in the hotel!”

Without missing a beat, Alastor's expression morphed into one of exaggerated shock and wounded innocence. His hand flew to his chest, fingers splaying out dramatically as if to emphasize the depth of his offense.

“My dear Charlie,” he exclaimed. “Accusing me of such vandalism! Why, I would never dream of causing harm to anything in our esteemed hotel!”

Charlie raised an incredulous eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his theatrics. “Really? Because I distinctly remember you destroying the coffee machine just last week.”

A flicker of annoyance flashed across Alastor's face, quickly masked by his trademark grin. “Ah, well, accidents happen, my dear. Surely you can't hold that against me.”

Before Charlie could respond, Vaggie interjected with a pointed look. “And what about the toaster the week before that?”

“The toaster?” Alastor echoed, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he cast a sidelong glance at Vaggie’s direction. “Oh, that old thing was on its last legs anyways. I was merely putting it out of its misery!”

Charlie's sigh reverberated through the parlor, laden with frustration. Anyone within earshot could discern that even the seemingly infinite well of patience belonging to the Princess was beginning to run dry.

“Alastor,” she started, drawing a deep breath and folding her hands in front of her. “I know you mean well, but we can't have you breaking things every time you get bored.”

Alastor’s facade remained intact as he listened to Charlie’s lecture, although the subtle twitch of his ear betrayed the irritation that simmered beneath the surface. He had expected this reaction, of course; it was all too predictable. But that didn't make it any less tiresome.

“Oh, come now,” he responded as casually as he could. “You know me better than that. I'll have that pesky picture box fixed in a jiffy!”

“It's not just about fixing the TV, Alastor. We have enough trouble keeping this place together without you destroying hotel property whenever you feel like it.”

Suppressing an urge to roll his eyes at Charlie's admonishment, Alastor finally conceded, even as his pride bristled at the implication of recklessness. “Yes, yes, you’re right,” he said aloofly. “I’ll get this taken care of right away. You and Vaggie needn’t worry yourselves.”

With that, he gracefully knelt down beside the broken TV, his movements deliberate as he made a show of collecting the wreckage. Despite the situation, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of amusement at the melodramatic nature of it all. It was almost comical how worked up everyone got over something as silly as a broken appliance. After all, what harm was a mere television set in the grand scheme of things?

Especially when its destruction served as a small price to pay for the chance to see the mechanic again.

Cradling the TV in his hands, Alastor straightened up and began to walk away, purposefully moving past Charlie and Vaggie before they could launch into any further lectures. Despite the disapproving glances he left in his wake, Alastor felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him–he had finally obtained his excuse.

“...and remember, if you ever need anything else, you know where to find me!”

The words slipped past your lips like a well-rehearsed speech as you bid farewell to the now-proud owner of the repaired pocket watch. Standing with your hands on your hips, you watched them depart, a swell of pride filling your heart as their delighted reaction replayed in your mind. It was always rewarding to see the joy on your customers' faces when you successfully restored something precious to them.

As they left, you turned your attention to the windows, where the dwindling daylight seeped through. It was getting late, you realized with a sigh. 

With a sense of reluctance, you made your way toward the door. It was time to close up shop for the day, despite the lingering desire to stay open a little longer. As your hand reached for the lock, preparing to secure the entrance, a sudden commotion startled you.

The door swung open with such force that a rush of wind swept into the workshop, catching you off guard. Before you could react, you found yourself tumbling backward, landing unceremoniously on the floor.

“What the–” You began, lifting your gaze to confront the incredibly rude visitor. But your words caught in your throat as your eyes landed on Alastor, standing there framed in your doorway with a strained grin and a shattered TV gripped tightly in his hands.

“Alastor, what’s–” You started again, but in the next breath, Alastor suddenly dropped the TV, letting it fall to the floor with a careless thud. 

In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between you, rushing to your side with an urgency that left you dazed. “Goodness gracious, darling, are you alright?” He asked, eagerly extending a hand to assist you.

You felt a peculiar flutter in your chest as his gloved fingers gently enveloped yours, guiding you back to your feet. Despite the unexpected tumble, his touch was surprisingly tender, and you couldn’t help but be aware of the warmth that spread through your hand where it met his.

“It seems like you really need to work on your landing technique, my dear,” he then remarked amusedly. Yet beneath the jest, you detected a subtle tremor in his voice, and you couldn’t ignore the fact that he hadn’t released your hand yet.

As you looked up at him with furrowed brows, Alastor knew he should let go. He should, it was the rational thing to do, the expected response in this situation.

But his hand–it was on fire! Compared to the initial spark of electricity, whilst significant in its own right, this new sensation was simply overwhelming, threatening to unravel each delicate thread that wound the Radio Demon together.

Terrifying yet exhilarating, Alastor realized the immense power that such a simple gesture held over him. If he had known that such a dramatic entrance would grant him the privilege of holding your hand like this, he would've acted sooner. He would've found any excuse, any reason, to break down your door and claim your hand as his own long ago.

And at the same time, another thought crept into his mind, igniting a different kind of excitement altogether. He couldn't help but wonder about the myriad of other sensations your touch might elicit—sensations that surpassed mere hand-holding.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you stood there, the air crackling with tension. To say that you were confused would be an understatement. Alastor’s incessant visits, today’s sudden intrusion, the broken TV, his firm yet gentle hold–it was more than baffling.

Unable to bear the heaviness of it all, you dared to give his hand a light squeeze. “Uh, Alastor?” You ventured tentatively, offering him an easy smile. “You can let go now, you know.”

His response came almost immediately, but it wasn't what you had expected. “I know,” he said nonchalantly, tightening his grip instead of releasing it.

The smile faltered slightly on your lips as your confusion deepened. “Then… will you?”

“I don’t think so, my dear.”

“Why not?” You asked, the words escaping your lips before your thoughts could catch up.

Alastor's grip tightened again, his crimson gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “Because,” he began, his voice low and velvety. “I rather enjoy holding your hand.”

The simplicity of his answer caught you off guard. It was as if he were stating the most obvious fact in the world, with no need for further explanation. As you cast your gaze downward at your intertwined fingers, and then at the broken TV, lying in pieces by your door–that’s when the puzzle suddenly clicked into place.

“Oh…”

“Hmm?” Alastor hummed, his tone laced with genuine curiosity and a hint of amusement. As he waited for you to reply, he couldn't resist the temptation to let his thumb glide ever so gently against the back of your hand. The touch was feather-light, almost imperceptible, yet it sent a tingling sensation through your skin.

It drew your attention back to him, your unsure gaze meeting his intense one. For a moment, it seemed as if Alastor was extending a silent invitation for you to delve deeper, to peel back the layers of your interactions, to speak the words that hovered on the tip of your tongue.

And with a deep breath, you gathered your thoughts. 

“I... I was just thinking,” you began, your voice steadier than you felt. “Do you... have feelings for me, Alastor?”

The question hung between you, heavy with uncertainty and vulnerability. You weren't sure what to expect, but you were desperate for some clarity. 

“Feelings?” Alastor echoed after a pause, his demeanor carefully neutral as he attempted to evade the question. “Why, my dear, I have all sorts of feelings for you! Admiration, appreciation, curiosity–”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his evasive answer, a sudden surge of frustration bubbling within you. “Alastor,” you interrupted, cutting through his attempt at deflection. “I'm not talking about admiration or appreciation. I'm talking about... romantic feelings.”

The ever-present grin on the Radio Demon’s face faltered visibly, his ears flattening against his head. It was clear he was uncomfortable–how could he not be? The very notion of romance, of allowing oneself to be vulnerable to another, disgusted him to his core. Alastor prided himself on his independence, his autonomy, and the idea of relinquishing even a fraction of that control was utterly repulsive.

But more than that, it was the sheer audacity of the question that left him reeling. How dare you suggest such a thing? Yet, as much as he wanted to dismiss you outright, a nagging voice at the back of his mind reminded him of his own hypocrisy. After all, he couldn't deny the frequency of his visits to your workshop, the way his heart quickened at the mere thought of seeing you, or the inexplicable desire to hold your hand just a moment longer.

But romantic feelings? Perish the thought! Love was a weakness, a sentiment reserved for fools, and it had no place in his world.

Alastor finally let out a forced laugh, attempting to brush off the seriousness of the conversation. “Now, now, my dear, let’s not get ahead of ourselves!” He said in between chuckles, each one more strained than the last. “I’m simply not one for such sentimental nonsense!”

Your frustration surged even further at his dismissive response, the sound of his laughter grating on your already frayed nerves. Holding up his hand, which still enveloped yours, you pressed on, determination burning in your eyes.

“Then what are we doing here?” You asked pointedly. Alastor’s gaze flickered down to your intertwined hands, his expression momentarily unreadable. But then, as if flicking a switch, he reverted to his nonchalant demeanor.

“We’re simply enjoying each other’s company, of course!” he replied enthusiastically, his thumb brushing against your hand again almost instinctively. “No need to overcomplicate things, hm?”

With a deep breath, you realized that you had reached your limit with Alastor. The frustration simmering within you had finally boiled over, and you had no interest in playing this game of his any longer.

Without a word, you tore your hand away from his grasp, a sharp movement that caused Alastor to visibly flinch. But you ignored his reaction as you focused on gathering the forgotten television set, its sharp edges digging into your skin as you collected the wreckage.

Straightening up, you returned to Alastor's side, purposefully avoiding any further contact with him as you extended the damaged device toward him. Your gaze was steady, unwavering, as you delivered your ultimatum.

“I'm closed, Alastor,” you declared firmly. “Come back when you're ready to be honest.”

part i / part ii

thank you for reading!! and thank you to everyone who left such nice comments on my last posts. i was very surprised<3

there will definitely be a third part to this story. also, @christinebloodwrittings requested to be tagged<3

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 4 ]

xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx

A/N: This is all angst and fluff because I'm working on two other smut fics. Please accept this impromptu filler chapter for now (I'm sorry ❤️). I hope you enjoy it anyway.

WARNINGS: [ SFW ] + [ SLIGHTLY MATURE THEMES ] + [ FLUFF ] + [ ANGST ]

xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx

You waited patiently for Alastor, standing at the window, admiring the fading moon as the sun's rays gradually inked the sky. It’d been a longer night than you imagined, but you felt energized rather than overtly exhausted.

You supposed that's what having a child felt like: tiring but never lacking excitement. A smile crept onto your face at the thought, heart racing at the image of a small hand wrapping around your finger and the possible jingle of childish laughter following the gesture. It was all you could think about.

Would they resemble you or Alastor more?

A boy or maybe a girl?

Twins?… Oh, twins would be so extraordinary but troublesome!

Oh, who am I to complain… they'd be just as lovely as Alastor.

You jumped from one thought to the next, unable to keep track of your puzzling emotions but deciding your only concern should be the present. With a steadying breath, you gazed around the room, searching for something to do or a task to occupy yourself with since sleep failed you. The room was spotless besides your belongings, which you'd already reorganized after stealing one of Alastors dress shirts to replace your blood-stained nightgown. There was a bookshelf full of various stories tucked into a corner near an old rocking chair, and the idea of reading to relax didn't seem terrible.

“A good story can be grand entertainment…”

Your father coined the phrase and always followed it with an unbelievable bedtime reading. Those nights filled with his storytelling were your fondest childhood memories, and you considered passing the sentiment onto your child. You imagined Alastor more prone to telling bedtime stories; he had the charisma, the soothing voice for it, and you had no doubt they'd become attached to him doing so.

Your smile grew wider, getting ahead of itself as you waltzed over to the tall mahogany bookshelf. “Hm…what shall we read, little one?” you placed a hand on your stomach, gently rubbing circles against it as your other grazed the worn book spines. Each title caught your eye, all ranging in subject but consistent with what Alastor told you about his mother's efforts to advance his literacy.

“Some might say she willed proper speech out of me, but I wouldn't be where I am now without such vigorous practice…”

He was far from wrong; your father had educated you similarly, claiming that despite young women of the time being expected to rely on their beauty, you'd advance farther with brains.

“Let's see..” you mumbled aloud, reading a few titles to narrow your decision, “…perhaps Penny Dreadful? No, The Grim Brothers Tales’?..” A soft giggle left your lips as you considered how ridiculous you sounded speaking aloud, but it couldn't be helped. You were longing to talk, to shout with joy, but resisted the urge in fear of causing a minor disturbance.

Finally, a book held your attention, not as worn as the others but fairly withered. “Alice in Wonderland shall do.” You pricked it from the shelf, sitting in the rocking chair while opening its front cover. The words on each page were familiar, immersive as intended, and for a few quiet moments, you thought of nothing but its premise as you whispered nonsensical sentences in their written order.

Time passed quicker than you thought; by the third chapter, you heard the bedroom door creak open, and in stepped a refreshed Alastor. You beamed a coy smile his way as he shut the door behind him, returning your smile with tired eyes while walking over to you, “Mornin’ darlin’..”

“Good morning, mon cher. You look much better.” you muse as he leans down to kiss your head, “Thank you, sweetheart. Once I get some rest, I might feel better as well.” He doesn't stand up fully, content with being at eye level with you to converse, and you unconsciously blush from the intensity of his gaze. Strands of his hair were curled into its natural waves, dripping with tiny water droplets, slithering down his mocha skin with every breath he took. It was a miracle his glasses didn't fog up, resting neatly on his face and doing nothing but accentuating his piercing brown eyes.

You could get lost in his stare; that ocean of amber took your breath away effortlessly, and you wondered if the trait would pass on to your child.

Indeed, it would… surely he'd love it.

A lump formed in your throat as anxious excitement built in your chest. You needed to tell him calmly, but the longer you waited, the more you wanted to hide away.

Did he want this?

“I’d love you and our child more than anything…”

He'd said it himself, but it was hard for you to deny that Alastor was very vague with his genuine emotions. Even as his wife, you found him hard to read

There was only one way for you to find out, and stalling wouldn't solve anything. Alastor studied your expression as you thought, perceptive to the minor changes in your mood, “My dear, are you alright?” he asked firmly. You perk up, nodding slowly while clutching the book to your chest, “I-Im, I'm fine... It's just that I have to tell you something rather delicate..”

Alastor raised a brow, watching as you bit your lip and stared at your lap, “The news you alluded to earlier this evening?” His eyes narrow, glinting with prowess as he ponders the possibilities of your announcement.

With a heavy sigh, you nod again, shutting the book before placing it in your lap, gripping it tight with one hand as the other instinctively rests on your stomach. You feel his gaze shift from your face, fixated on your abdomen, as you stumble out an explanation.

“I. Well, I'm… “ you cut yourself off when words fail, reaching for his hand gently, placing it over your own as a nervous smile adorns your face.

Oh…does she mean to say?…

Alastor froze as the warmth of your skin settled against his palm, rising and falling in a gentle pattern as you willed yourself to breathe normally while gauging his reaction. His shadows quivered in the darkness of the room, able to hear two faint heartbeats underneath the drum of your own, and the definitive sound brought a grin to his face.

It seems she's given us exactly what we hoped for. Twice the yield as well.

How delightful.

Alastor knelt before you, placing both hands on your stomach, eyes soft with affection as he finally voiced his thoughts.

“My darling wife is going to be a mother..” pride laced his tone as he averted his gaze to yours, grin ever present as you nodded excitedly with a bright smile, “And you're going to be father..” you whisper.

Your words drifted quietly in the air, sinking into Alastor’s consciousness and stirring his specters into a giddy frenzy.

My wife is having my children…

Mine and only mine.

A laugh rippled in his chest as the possessive thought invaded his mind, growing stronger as he heard your delighted giggles join his. “Come here, darlin’…” Alastor lifted you with one gentle tug on your wrists, catching you in his arms as your feet hovered off the ground. “Alastor!” you yelped excitedly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt and laughing more as he pecked your lips tenderly. You hummed into the passionate kiss, arms locking around his neck as you kicked a foot up gingerly. He tasted like mint, calm, and refreshing. A welcomed contrast to the waning heat you felt as your nerves winded down.

He was pleased to know, which filled your heart with relief.

——- ——- ———

“Oh, my stars! Al! Y/n! I'm overjoyed for you both!” Rosie shot up from her seat, dress flowing as she glided around the coffee table to squeeze you in a tight hug as you set out the platter of sweets you'd finished baking moments ago. “Thank you, Rosie. I still can't believe it myself,” you blushed as she squealed, drawing back a bit to cup your face with both hands; her eyes sparkled with admiration as she looked between you and Alastor -who sat comfortably in an armchair. He hadn't stopped grinning since your return home from the countryside, rambling on and on to his mother about the news until the last minute, and he insisted on telling Rosie as soon as you stepped foot in New Orleans again. She was his long-time friend, after all, yours as well, by extension, and so you didn't mind revealing the news to her. Just as his mother felt like your own, Rosie filled the space of an older sister for you. She was energetic, fashionable, and constantly aware of everyone's lives.

She was a true gossip girl, but you enjoyed her company more than others.

“Al, you devil! You could've waited another year to knock my dearest friend up! Now, who will I take out on the town?..” She huffed dramatically but couldn't hold her frown as you giggled softly while he waved a hand dismissively. “I'm sure you'll survive, my dear.” he quips. Rosie rolls her eyes, returning his nonchalant gesture with an equally smug smirk, “I suppose you're right. Although, my nights out won't be as thrilling anymore with you gone being a new father and such, Al.”

He sat straighter. You happened to catch the slightest frown on his face at Rosie’s comment, but it vanished when he felt your eyes on him. “I'll accompany you on occasion when time allows it.” His response is politely chaste, and one might deem it disappointing.

Was he bothered by the notion of having less time with Rosie?

You knew they ventured to socialite parties together regularly, something they'd done long before you married him, but you never questioned it since Rosie assured you it was their fun hobby. Still, you felt concerned that Alastor could regret the idea of children if it meant a less spontaneous party going with his oldest friend.

You opened your mouth to say something, stepping towards where he sat, but Rosie grabbed your hands and whisked you away to sit on the plush sofa with her. “We must discuss everything Y/n. Having a child is no small feat, and I know Al won't spare any expense.” She grinned, squeezing your hands gently, and you smiled back at her before sparing your husband a curious glance. “He spoils me too much already, so I think he'll naturally do the same for the baby,” a soft laugh floated from you, and he tipped his head reassuringly while pulling out his pocket watch to check the time. “Whatever their little heart desires, I shall give,” he replies calmly, standing to his feet and gazing between you and Rosie. “It's about time I head on over to the station. I don't suppose you’ll be leaving anytime soon, Rosie?”

You checked the grandfather clock that stood against the adjacent wall, noticing it was nearly time for his broadcast to begin, “Seems we lost track of time.” you smiled apologetically at Alastor. He shook his head while chuckling, “It's not your fault, darling. I got caught up listening to this one ramble,” he gestured to Rosie before walking over to the parlor room coat stand. He pricked his preferred overcoat, slipping it on quickly as she glared at his back. “Is that any way to speak of your child’s future honorary aunt and godmother!” she faked a skeptical look to which you feigned concern, “Oh, my dear Rosie, he didn't mean it, I swear!”

Alastor turned on his heel, biting back a more comprehensive smile as he admired the two of you carrying on, “I will not apologize for telling the truth, ma chère, but Rosie does have the privilege of godmother so that for I will ask for her forgiveness.” he stood behind the sofa, leaning down a bit to kiss you once then twice before pulling away with a content hum.

Rosie watched the sweet exchange, able to separate the manic version of Alastor she killed from the doting husband he was in your presence, proud to see him so controlled and happy. He pulled away from you, adoring the glimmer in your eyes as you reached a hand up to adjust his glasses, “I love you,” you whisper, and he blanks for a moment, hearing the endearing phrase.

Love…is that what this is?…

Would it be so wrong to say it back?…

A flash of vulnerability crosses Alastor’s face, and you're tempted to take your words back, but he beats you to speak. “Je t'aime aussi..” he mutters back, stepping away to bid Rosie a proper goodbye, “Take good care of her while I'm gone.” he kisses her cheek, and she swats his arm, “Oh, you know I will. Now run along before you're late!” He heads to her, scolding her out the door in seconds, leaving you in her company.

“I thought he'd never leave,” Rosie chirps, glad to have some privacy to speak with you and eager to get down to the details you had to tell. “Tell me, how do you feel, honey? I know this all might be terrifying you…” she spoke softly, pricking a freshly baked cookie from the platter you set out, and you nodded timidly in agreement while fidgeting with your hands.

“I'm scared, yes, but not of being a mother. You know I've always wanted to be one. It was my biggest dream when I came of age, and I'm glad it's coming true with Al..” You rested a hand on your stomach, feeling it flip at the mention of him, and luckily, no urge to throw up followed.

Thank goodness for Angelique and her tonics!

She'd given you a case of vials to take home, all containing a special brew made by her hand, and she'd given you a strict regimen for consuming them.

“Drink two of these twice daily, morning and evening, but only take it after you've eaten. Have Alastor phone me when you need more..”

Whatever was given had a wonderous effect on your mood, reduced your fatigue, and calmed your nerves. You were grateful for her assistance, but not everything you felt could be cured with medicine.

You hoped Rosie would understand, could help calm what the tonics couldn't, so as she peered at you curiously and asked, “What's the matter, dearest?” you inevitably blurted out your worst and only fear.

“I'm afraid of how Alastor will be as a father..”

She blinked, taken aback by your confession, but it didn't show on her face. “May I ask why?”

You hesitated, fidgeting with your hands again as you thought of what to say, but Rosie rested a hand on yours to still them in a gentle grip. “Y/n, it's alright, be honest. He may have been my closest companion initially, but you are my truest friend in this moment. I'm here to listen, not to criticize. He won't hear a word of it, I swear.”

You glanced between your conjoined hands and her kind smile, and after debating whether or not to spill your heart out, you decided it wouldn't hurt to express your doubts.

You could trust Rosie. Right?…

“Well, I know he wants children. He recently told me so, but it's how he'll receive them. Alastor is a complex man, we both know that, but I fear that complexity will make it hard for him to…to..” you tried to phrase the last of your concerns gently, unsure if what you said made any sense to her, but Rosie merely smiled before finishing the thought for you.

“You're afraid he won't show them love?..”

You nod, heart clenching at the thought, “Yes. I know how his childhood went; I was there through it all, so I know his father wasn't the best man. I know what he put his mother through and Alastor hates the idea of becoming like him..”

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, beginning to tear up as memories of Alastor coming to you in the dead of night, bruised and battered but stoic as ever as he asked to sleep next to you in your bed. He'd never tell you what happened, where his father was, or if he'd been majorly injured. You'd have to coax information out of him, promise him that you'd never betray his safety, or tell your father what went on in his family. Then and only then would he relax, let you mend his scars before huddling under the thick covers with you, and though you were both exhausted, you'd whisper stories aloud to each other until the sun peeked through the trees.

It felt odd to wish for times like that to return; they all resorted from darker places, but it brought you two closer. You were able to understand Alastor to an extent most speculated of. With all the insight into his life, you hoped the irrational fears you felt would wither away, but after the incident at his mother's, they just worsened.

It felt as if he were hiding something from you.

At first, the notion piqued your curiosity, but now it ate away at your conscience.

What was he withholding from you, and did you need or want to know more?

Logic voted ‘yes,’ but your trusting nature leaned towards ‘no.’

“He won't ever be like him. I'm sure, but he's only recently expressed he cares for me. Truly loves me, so I suppose I'm afraid of that same affection not being openly expressed to our little one as well.”

Rosie nodded, scooting closer and giving you a tight side hug to calm your frazzled state. “My dear, you have every right to fear such a thing. However, if I may vouch for Alastor, I do believe his softer side will show itself for your child.” You peered at her, hope in your eyes, “Really? You think so?..”

She grins, “I am certain of it! He cherishes you like no other! Unlike my husband, yours is a dime and a man who'd kill for you if necessary.”

You blush, surprised by her claim, “I don't think he'd kill for me, Rosie, but I understand the sentiment.” She scoffs, hand rubbing your shoulders, and retorts, “Yes, he would, and he'd show the same devotion to your bundle of joy.”

Her statement soothed your worries, but the seriousness in her tone made your heart skip a beat.

It felt as though she did know he'd kill for you…kill for your child.

A shiver racked your body at the thought.

I hope it never comes to that…

xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx

What do you guys think of the story so far? I'm just curious to hear your thoughts and theories.❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He may be a monster, but at least he's dedicated to it; morally grey, but honest to his silly little murderous behaviors ❤️ credits to the creator

[cozymoko]

So what I was thinking was that yuu has been in the manor for awhile, she always sees a locked door that she just can help but be curious about. Whenever she asks about it they tell her to bind her business, one the door was unlocked somehow (maybe someone forgot to lock it again after visiting idk) and she goes in to look and she finds us! The only sister of the Sakamaki family! (If it could be platonic Yandere that would be great) and you can go on from there bc idk what to add or the reactions of everyone would be 🥲 also sorry if this still isn’t any help I’m not sure if this is still confusing

THE SECRET SAKAMAKI

Note: I completely understand, no worries!

PART TWO: here!

Synopsis: Yui finally meets the only sister of the Sakamaki family who has been hidden away by her brothers.

Pairing: Yandere! Sakamaki brothers x platonic! sister reader

Format: Scenario

Word Count: 1.6k

WARNING(S): slight platonic yandere themes.

Want more Diabolik lovers? → Masterlist! ★

Please proceed below the cut.

Only a few weeks had passed since Yui Kamori’s arrival, and she truthfully wanted nothing more than to return home. Where she didn’t have to sleep with one eye open. Her skin ached, practically screaming for salvation after undergoing endless amounts of “punishments'' for even the smallest of actions.

But today, no one was here. At least not at the moment, leaving her to relax until her heart’s content. With that said, the young human teen decided to treat herself to a walk, around the manor of course. After all, she had yet to see even half of the wonders (horrors) that were the Sakamaki household and she was more than just curious. 

Door after door: open, close; open, close. It was a never-ending cycle of boredom and disappointment. She had almost given up, concluding that there was truly nothing extraordinary happening behind closed doors. But that was before she saw it. Yui stumbled upon an unfamiliar door with a unique gold plaque just inches above it, serving as its most noticeable dissimilarity from the others.

The door was nothing special. It was wooden with gleaming gold imprinting smoothed between every crevice. But it stood out nonetheless. Yui slowly dragged her eyes along its surface, taking in its somewhat feminine appearance. Above it rested a large golden panel, inhabited by intricate calligraphy neatly engraved into its exterior; reading “Our treasure: [Name]”

Yui reached out, allowing her fingertips to subtly graze the cool doorknob, mere moments away from twisting it open… 

“You know, it's really impolite to go snooping around someone else’s home, little bitch~!” The sound of Laito’s voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. His tone was light but lacked the playfulness it tried so desperately to convey. “Allow me to escort you back to your room, fufu~.” 

Reluctantly, she followed, allowing the vampire to steer her further and further from the mysterious door; then down the hall, and back to her room. Her newfound curiosity outweighed her feeling of fear, despite Laito’s troublesome grip on her arm.

And she couldn’t help but wonder…

Just what was behind that door? Who is [Name]?

So the next day she tried her luck once more. Swiftly abandoning the security of her room, Yui proceeded down the dimly lit hallway. With the door close in sight, she noticed hushed whispers growing more audible by the second. Lo and behold, it was Kanato. 

His pale cheek pressed flush against the door's wooden frame, sweet yet borderline obsessive affirmations spilling from his thin lips. Yui assumed he was talking to himself, as far-fetched as it seemed. Though she wouldn't put it past Kanato of all people.

That's when she heard it. The faintest voice reached her ears, it was feminine and loving; and very clearly a blessing to Kanato's ears. She was sure he was ready to squeal with joy if not for the very slim amount of dignity he retained. Never had she seen him happier. 

A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips and before she knew it she was staring fondly at the scene. It wasn't every day she saw those sadistic men act so sweet and vulnerable, even if it was a little odd. Her dazed state didn't go unnoticed, unfortunately, as lilac hues met her soft rosy ones. 

“You—?!” The vampire practically screeched, trudging down the hallway towards the human girl. “Just how much did you hear?”

Let's just say she was left with more than just a few bruises, poor girl. 

The next day Yui ventured down that same vacant hallway. The old floorboards threatened to groan under her weight as she approached that same door that haunted her dreams.

“Haah…You really are a troublesome woman,” Yui jumped, startled. At her side lies a familiar champagne-haired man, tired and less than amused by her appearance. “This room is off-limits for brides. Even so, I've never met one as nosey as you. Leave while you can.”

The girl was stunned, shaking like a leaf. When did Shu get here? Why was he here? Her suspicions were creeping up on her like an unruly wave threatening to sweep her under any moment. At that moment she had finally realized, It wasn't just a door. 

I think.

But of course, curiosity killed the cat. 

Having grown tired of being caught, tied up, and punished time and time again Yui tried a distant approach; she had no choice. Her fair skin had grown battered and bruised, adorned by more lacerations and pricks than she could count. So as one does, she took her chances and decided to confide in Reiji. 

Entering his room, Yui politely took a seat across from the man at a polished deep oak wood table. Accompanied by freshly brewed tea set evenly between the two. “Reiji,” Yui commenced, though her words came as an airy puff as her nerves threatened to tear through her light bravery. “I…I've been curious about something as of lately. A door in particular,”

His red eyes narrowed significantly, “Go on.”

“All the guys have been acting kind of strange lately every time I get close to it and—”

A firm hand made contact with her chest, successfully knocking the wind right out of her, slamming her into the harsh cushioning that lined the leather sofa. “Enough; That is none of your concern, you are merely a living blood bag,” He sighed, sending her a menacing glare. “Don't allow your curiosity to push you to do unnecessary things. If you disrupt the peace of those I hold dear to me I shall punish you personally, do you understand?”

The mortal nodded and swallowed sharply, briskly maneuvering from the vampires prying gaze. And much to her surprise, he allowed it. Yui rushed to the door before slipping through its slight opening, down the hall, and then back to her room once more.

Someone Reiji cared for was behind that door, and from the looks of it, there was no way it was one of his brothers. So who? 

No matter, at that point, Yui had given up. She was scared shitless, not wanting to undergo any more torture than she already was. She had a sneaking suspicion that the brothers were slowly losing their patience with her and she didn't want to be there to experience the consequences. 

So the next few days were carried out like any other. Today she was spending her time with a certain redhead, mindlessly listening to his narcissistic rambles.  As they turned down a familiar hallway, she glanced to the man at her side. Ayato walked past the door without a care in the world and made her start to second guess herself.

Perhaps her gaze lingered on the door for a second too long, for a certain redhead had noticed her delayed footsteps. “Oi, pancake what the hell are yo-?” He paused, his face growing visibly sour as he followed her eyes. “...Looking at.”

He scoffed, gripping tightly onto her frail wrist. From the looks of it, he was not pleased. 

“The last thing I need is for more competition, those five assholes are more than enough.” 

His hushed grumbles were like sirens to Yui's ears, igniting the dying flame of determination in her chest. That was all she needed to hear as nothing from that point on could prove her suspicions false. There was definitely someone behind that door. 

However, it seemed her luck had already run out. 

Until one fateful day at least. 

A sliver in the door, so small it was almost unnoticeable. Feeling some sense of urgency the girl jumped to her feet, making a straight beeline to the wooden door before slamming it behind her. The subtle sound of someone clearing their throat dragged her from her internal celebration. 

The woman looked to be no older than sixteen, but she knew better than to believe she was any younger. Her silky hair was tied neatly out of her face, with very little makeup brushing her features. An extravagant rococo-styled dress fell to her ankles as she busied herself with a thick novel. Only when she met her eyes did Yui notice the resemblance the woman shared with the brothers. 

“A mortal girl,” The woman said, almost matter-of-factly. “You must be the sacrificial bride, correct? Yui Kamori, I presume.”

She nodded, so slowly that she seemed unsure, causing a jovial laugh to slip through the beautiful woman's painted lips. 

“I see…you’re not much of a talker, are you?” The woman smiled politely before closing the book that rested in her hands, lazily tracing small circles into its cover. “No matter. Answer me this, how did you get in here? Subaru must've forgotten to close it, he's in here quite often, after all, he's such a big baby.”

“Wha…What?”

“That door is never open so I think you know what I’m hinting at.” The physically younger woman leaned toward the mortal girl, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “As for Subaru, I'm a little bit older than him so he tends to cling to me like his life depends on it!”

Yui gave her a look of blatant confusion, hardly catching onto whatever the young vampire was spewing out. “Hm, you look a bit confused and clueless, let me help you.” The woman smiled, whispering her rude comment dismissively “Do you even know why I’m in here?”

Yui shook her head, ignoring the anxiety gnawing away at her composure. Gradually shying away from the woman's attention as she hugged her sides. 

“Oh my, then this should be a real treat.” She giggled, gazing fondly at the frightened girl. “Now, Yui Kamori, allow me, [Name] Sakamaki to tell you a tale of endless obsession!”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀—いつも、いつまでも♡

[cherryxblossxms]

Bedtime Relaxation

Lucifer x reader

: ̗̀➛ A/N: I don't give nearly enough love to my Luci, and I just wanted to write him being casual and simply wanting some loving from his MC. Not proofread and a bit of a rushed ending

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: fem afab reader, fluff and smut, no protection, neck kisses and a lil biting, praise, dirty talk, fingering, creampie, a bit of breeding, cockwarming; remember to pee after sexxxx; Lucifer is a tease but there's a lot of love~

: ̗̀➛ Word count: 3382 this was going to be short what happened

It wasn't unusual for you to go to bed alone most nights. When getting into your relationship with the Avatar of Pride, you knew what a workaholic he was. Thanks in part to his troublesome brothers, there was always work and bills to be looked over. The rest was thanks to Diavolo, having to review matters concerning R.A.D. on a near constant basis as an important member of the R.A.D. student council.

Any attempts to assist him were often met with stubborn refusals, but you fought against those with tooth and nail. Sometimes you managed to help decrease his workload, easing his burden at least a little bit. But you had to be honest with yourself that, more often than not, there was some paperwork that was simply too far above your head to manage. That's why tonight, you'd gotten ready— dressed only in one of his shirts as your pajamas— and slipped into bed all by yourself once more, your lonely sigh echoing in the empty room.

You were almost comedic looking amidst the bountiful sheets as the singular figure on your lover's massive bed. You knew Lucifer would always join you eventually, when his coffee ran out and his mind refused to look at any more papers, serving to fill the bed just a bit more. In fact, Lucifer often told you he slept better ever since you started sleeping by his side, so he always made sure you two were together during the night. But you still couldn't help the loneliness in your chest, and unfortunately, your day had been an exhausting one. It wasn't long before you had to succumb to sleep without him, missing his touch and dreaming of being in his arms.

You awoke some time later to movement on the mattress. You couldn't tell how much time had passed, but given how dark it was, you'd hazard a guess it was a few hours since you fell asleep. A cold hand made its way around your waist before a hard body pressed up against you from behind, spooning you close. Without looking, you knew immediately who it was, but that didn't stop you from angling your head back, trying to catch any kind of glimpse of your lover in the darkness.

"Lucifer?" You asked, almost involuntarily.

"Yes, it's me," he replied, and took the chance to kiss you softly before settling behind you. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I wanted to finish up my work and didn't realize how late it was. You can go back to sleep."

Your body rejoiced in that, wanting to return to your slumber as soon as possible. But your mind wanted otherwise. It had been a while since you'd gotten any quality alone time with the eldest demon, and even if it was brief, any time together was better than none at all.

You shook your head despite the darkness of the room, clutching to the arm around your body.

"That's ok, I want to stay awake a little longer. I've missed you." You hated how needy you sounded when you were tired, but it was the truth.

You could feel Lucifer chuckle rather than hear it, and another kiss was pressed to the back of your neck.

"I've missed you, too, my love," he said, nuzzling against you. "Nothing is right until you are in my arms like this." His words brought heat to your face, your heart aching with so much love for your hard-working demon.

Several more kisses followed, showered against your lips, your neck, and the curve of your ear, and everything in you wanted to purr at the feeling. His arm tightened around your middle, hips bumping your butt as he got as close as possible, and sparks came to life low in your belly. You couldn't help but squirm against him, his kisses and his touch always serving to rile you up in the best way, and you couldn't help but want more.

A well-placed bump of your butt into his groin made Lucifer grunt, and he retaliated with the drag of sharp canines against your skin, making you shiver. Any remaining sleepiness in you totally dissipated, replaced by the need for more. If Lucifer hadn't been holding you down, you would have turned around to get better access and deliver some kisses and bites of your own. So instead, the two of you settled for grinding and groping, your bodies heating up beneath the sheets.

Lucifer's nimble fingers quickly unbuttoned the shirt you were wearing, the pride and possessiveness within him swelling at seeing you wear his clothes— along with something else between his legs. A quick squeeze to your breast pulled a mewl out of you, and it was easy to arch up into his touch, encouraging him to continue.

With the heated, intimate atmosphere, you were quick to lose yourself in what was happening, especially as your lover's fingers squeezed and pinched at your nipples relentlessly. Having so little free time with your demon left you both needy, after all, and one thing always led to another rather quickly. But something nagged at the back of your mind, before suddenly springing forth in a tiny moment of clarity, making you gasp.

"Oh!" Lucifer's fingers stopped their movement at your exclamation. "Wait, aren't you working tomorrow? It must be so late, you need to rest."

Not that you wanted to stop, but the last thing you wanted was to be the cause of his sleep deprivation. An exasperated sigh blew across your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"No, I'm not working tomorrow. And these long nights are exactly the reason I asked to take tomorrow off." That surprised you, causing you to glance back at him. You're sure if one of Lucifer's brothers had heard that, they would be surprised too; the eldest brother never took vacation, at least not before he met you. "I've been away from you for too long, and I plan to start making it up to you, my darling."

The fingers that had been teasing your breasts began sliding down your body at a tantalizing pace, kisses decorating the back and side of your neck again as he did so. After what felt like a torturously long time, but was likely mere seconds, he reached the apex of your thighs. You hadn't even realized the way your core was throbbing, aching for his touch.

He paused for just a second at the lack of underwear, before moving onward. A single, long finger separated your folds down the middle, teasing your hole before swiping up and just barely glancing your clit. You could feel your wetness, hear it even, before he even said anything, knowing just what exactly he was feeling, and a deep, seductive hum filled your ear as he seemed to voice your thoughts.

"Hmmm, see? You're so wet for me already," he said, lips pressed to your ear now. "I've been neglecting you, clearly, not taking care of my lover's needs like I should. It's only fair that I repay you what you're owed, pleasure you to your heart's content."

His words warmed your heart, while simultaneously feeding the throbbing in your clit, desperate for more of his touch. Lucifer's work usually took priority over many things, so you hadn't expected him to think about it like this. Not that you didn't appreciate it, though.

"You haven't been neglecting me, Luci," you said. "I know how important your work is, I knew that when we got together, and you know that I support you still."

Another hum in your ear, but he stayed silent, letting you continue.

"I just want you to be able to relax a little, so you don't burn out. You haven't been neglecting me, so you don't have to take time off just to please me. Although, that means so much to me."

A beat of silence passed, and you opened your mouth to question his silence before that same long finger suddenly swiped over your clit, your slick on his finger making it glide with ease. The motion made you jolt, drawing a slight moan from your lips.

"Ahh— hey!" You protested, grabbing his arm.

He waited another moment before repeating the movement, but this time making slow, leisurely circles around the sensitive bud. Your thighs opened involuntarily, giving further access to your heat, and you couldn't help the shuddering moan you let out.

"And what if I said that me taking time off is actually for a selfish purpose?"

The words only half registered in your mind, basking in the stimulation he was giving you, and it didn't help you understand them any better.

"While it happens to be for pleasing you, I'm taking time off because I wanted to feel you beneath me all night... and all day," Lucifer teased, pleased with your reactions to his ministrations. "Instead of the sound of pen scratching on paper, I wanted to hear you moan my name until you lost your voice. And instead of feeling the cold loneliness of my study, I wanted to feel your sweet, warm little pussy squeezing my cock."

You couldn't help the groan that came out. If you could orgasm from words and voice alone, you knew that line would have done it.

"So give in to me, my love, and let me pleasure you like I've been aching for," he purred into your ear.

Your lover always knew exactly what to say, and although you were still concerned about his exhaustion and the late hour, you were beginning to lose the battle of willpower against his masterful fingers. As much as you wanted to insist that he rest, you had to admit his argument was... compelling. You finally sighed as you gave in the pleasure, relaxing against your lover as his hand continued.

"Fine," you said, reaching back to place your hand on Lucifer's cheek. "Give it all to me."

Lucifer didn't waste a second before plunging two of his fingers into you, sufficiently slick from your arousal. The heel of his hand ground against your clit simultaneously, and the pressure was heavenly. He set a good rhythm, mind-meltingly good, making you whimper from the pleasure, and a sharp cry was drawn out as he found and attacked the most sensitive spot along your walls. A moment later, a third finger slid in, working on opening you up, and you couldn't resist rocking your hips against him in response. Your hip ached from holding your leg up for him, but you couldn’t be bothered to care until you got your orgasm.

You could feel your climax building already, the lack of touch from his long working nights making you extra sensitive to it now. And your lover had all of you memorized, every moan and tremble, every little spot that made you cry his name and gush arousal.

"My sweetheart is getting so tight for me, you're already going to cum?" Lucifer asked, as if he didn't already know the answer. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

You just whined in response, pushing your butt back into him, feeling his clothed erection straining behind you.

Lucifer huffed, keeping up his pace. "Look at you, you can't even answer me. I can feel how close you are, though, how badly you want this."

And he was right, you were rapidly approaching the edge. The sounds of your wetness filled the quiet room, and your body felt blazing hot. You couldn't imagine what kind of mess was between your legs as he continued playing with your cunt.

Just as you could feel your pleasure begin to peak, his fingers suddenly stopped, simply stuffing your pussy instead. The orgasm he'd been working you towards instantly began to slip away, and you tried to rock your hips again, desperate to chase it. But Lucifer anticipated your move, removing his fingers all together, and the action made you want to cry.

Wasn't he just telling you about how he wanted you to cum??

Your lover shifted behind you, but you were too at a loss to think of what he was doing. It wasn't until you felt his bare, solid length between your thighs, eagerly pressing against you and getting covered in your slick, did you realize he was preparing to take you. And as expected, Lucifer began to rock his hips forward slowly, dragging his length through your folds. His heat and his size were intoxicating, and as if you weren't already a mess from his fingers, his length was doing wonders against you.

Each time he drew back, you could feel the mushroom head press towards your entrance, and you hoped he’d finally slide in and fuck you like he promised. But your hopes were dashed as he simply moved forward again, bumping your clit instead, seemingly unaware of your growing desperation. The man was teasing you, and it drove you nuts the way he knew exactly how to press your buttons.

"Luciiiiii," you whined.

Lucifer squeezed you close, chuckling low in his chest. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “It sounds like you want something.”

“Wh– Of course I want something!" You protested. "I was going to cum and you just stopped! You just said you want to please me, and now you're teasing me instead."

"I don't believe the two are mutually exclusive." This made you huff, your eyes rolling hard in your head. "Don't be mistaken, my love. I'm going to make sure you cum as much, and as hard, as possible in the next 24 hours. But a little denial helps to sweeten the deal, doesn't it?"

You hated that he was right. Orgasms with Lucifer were powerful, and it was all thanks to his devastating combination of denial then reward. Whether it was because he was a demon, or because he had potentially hundreds of years of experience, you weren't sure. All you knew was that Lucifer could play you like his favorite instrument, and make you sing like no one else possibly could. All you could do was whine softly in response, Lucifer continuing to tease his length against you at a leisurely place until you said otherwise.

Just as you were ready to explode at him, however, you finally felt his tip press to your entrance. All the teasing and prep made it easy for him to slide in, his mushroom tip popping past the first ring of muscle with ease, making you gasp softly, but he took his time pressing in, making sure you were comfortable.

“Ohhhh, fuck…”

Even with the prep, he always gave you a good stretch, and as he bottomed out, that delicious full feeling was incomparable. The mutual relief of finally feeling each other effectively silenced you both, and all you could hear for a moment was your combined heavy breaths.

That first thrust was heavenly.

He gave you a moment to get adjusted before slowly pulling out, almost all the way, then pushed forward again. The gift of long-anticipated friction drew an involuntary moan out from your lips, the first of many for the night, and it spurred your lover on to up his pace. Once Lucifer knew you were okay, one of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him as his hips started moving faster.

You reached an arm back to touch his hip, feeling the pull of his muscle as he moved, and focused on the feel of his cock pumping between your walls. You closed your eyes, reveling in your relief and your pleasure.

“Mmh, there’s my good girl. You feel so good, so warm and wet for me,” Lucifer groaned in your ear. You couldn’t help the way it made you tighten around him, drawing a grunt from him as he pushed forward, and you certainly couldn’t help the gush of arousal that came forth, either.

Suddenly, he stopped as he adjusted the angle, raising your one leg up and moving closer, seemingly trying to find the right spot before resuming his thrusting. And he’d evidently found what he was looking for as his cock seemed to reach a new depth in you, pressing against a particularly sensitive spot deep within and immediately pulling out a cry from your lips.

“Ah, there it is,” he said, and you could hear the smug tone in his voice.

Whatever it was, he was relentless as he focused his thrusts towards it. Each press of his cock hit that same spot, just a little painful but overwhelmingly pleasurable. It was like he’d pressed the off button to your nerves, rendering your limbs as spaghetti as he increased his pace once again, your legs now forced apart by his own limb to keep that deep access. The sound of the bed rocking and heavy breathing filled the air, only adding to the close, sensual atmosphere.

“Ngh, Luciiii, it’s t-too deep,” you managed to say, your words stuttered by the thrusting. But Lucifer wasn’t giving any mercy, feeling the way your pussy hugged his cock told him everything he needed to know, keeping up his pace against your body.

“I know you can take it, love. You always take me so well. Just a little bit longer, we’re almost there.” True enough, the change in angle had you rocketing towards your climax now, that familiar pressure building up in your pelvis, and you found yourself rocking your hips in time with Lucifer seeking out the end. His own pace was beginning to suffer, clearly approaching his own end too, and you wanted to hold on long enough to meet that orgasmic crash together.

Right as you thought this, however, two nimble fingers found their way between your legs once more. Before you could even think to say anything, Lucifer’s fingers found your clit, soaked and throbbing for attention, and began to rub devastating circles on the sensitive nub. Any remaining thoughts scattered at once, the attention to your clit and the rough, deep thrusts all that were occupying your mind now, your climax closer than ever. It was all you could do to hold onto him for dear life, little whispers of “yes” and “please” escaping your lips as your pleasure began to peak.

At the same time, Lucifer pressed his lips to the side of your neck, his sharp canines denting your skin and threatening to break through. “Ohhhhh yes, cum with me, love, I can feel it. I want you to milk me, I’m going to fill you up so well, fill you with every drop I have. Cum with me,” he muttered, his pleas ending in a rush of words before his climax finally hit.

As he came, Lucifer bit down on your neck, holding you still as he grunted against your skin. You could feel the sudden rush of warmth deep inside, the sign of his cum painting your walls, and between all the sensations and the thought of taking his seed, it finally made your climax crash over you too. You couldn’t help the loud moan you let out, squeezing hard on your lover’s cock and milking him exactly as requested.

You were both a mass of trembling limbs as you rode out your orgasms, Lucifer’s hips gently rocking against you and working his seed deeper even as he started to soften inside you. You squirmed as it began to overstimulate you, and he finally, blessedly, stopped his movements. Your mind wasn’t yet back together, unable to say anything in the aftermath, but your demon lover seemed much the same, simply nuzzling your skin and kissing where he’d bit you.

He leaned up a little and his lips finally met yours, kissing you softly. Ideally, you knew you should get up and clean yourself up, but that delicious climax and the warmth of Lucifer’s body were calling you back to sleep. It didn’t help that your lover’s arms were wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him like he was afraid you’d leave. As the darkness came to swallow you up, you figured, fuck it. Maybe just this once, you could indulge yourself, happy in the thought that your lover would be there to greet you tomorrow.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated 💜

[aluciahaz]

Sorry if this isn’t the askbox or not right I never done this before..

If requests are still open and whenever you feel like it of course.

I would like a dom male Reader x bottom Alastor rough smut, where the reader is in an important meeting as he is an overlord or prince of hell which ever you prefer.

And Alastor have been more chaotic lately which is messing something up for the reader and now he have to correct Alastor’s behavior.

Anyway hope you’re doing well today and take care of yourself and of course you can ignore this. Thank you.

RAHH!! im very late, sorry! i havent been feeling like writing in awhile, especially hazbin unfortunately 😭 so i decided to just post my wip i had for this request! i dont think ill ever finish it, so i wanted to post it rather than let it rot lmao, hope you enjoy although its unfinished ❤️

don’t forget your place

alastor x male!reader

includes: crying, gags, bondage

you don’t know what’s gotten into alastor recently.

the two of you sit in a meeting, right beside each other of course, and you watch as other overlords trickle into the modern room.

you didn’t even need to look at them, you could tell which people had arrived just by the sounds of their footsteps alone. each overlord was unique, it wasn’t hard to differentiate them. zestial had this almost spider-like sound when he walks, carmilla’s shoes pierced through the quiet like blades, and alastor—

“what are you thinking about, darling?” he asks, smiling at you with an inquisitive look.

you glance over at your troublesome lover, pursing your lips. “about how you’ve been harming my reputation with some of the statements you say in your radio show,” you tell him honestly, the sound of chairs moving against the pristine floors covering your conversation well enough to not require you to whisper.

“and how you keep killing some of my biggest customers. they’re too afraid to even call anymore.”

“oh, but you could always get more—”

“it’s not about that,” you hiss, your hand clenching alastor’s tightly. his smile freezes, but he’s still smug, looking at you under his hooded eyes.

“it’s about you walking over my image, al. stay in your lane,” you scold him, letting go of his hand as you feel him pull away.

all he does is shrug, clearly unbothered as he leans back in his chair. “i drive wherever gets me to my destination the fastest, my dear. and, it just seems you’re the shortcut.”

your grip on the bottom of the seat in frustration, glaring at alastor in both annoyance and sheer astonishment at his audacity to make such a euphemism. he thinks that he could just tear down your reputation to build up his own? what an outrageous idea!

perhaps you’ve been too kind to him. he thinks you’re some sort of pushover.

you’re already thinking of ways to fix that mistake. so much so, that the meeting seems to pass by like a fly and the fruit of your ideas are right in your hands in just a few seconds, tasting sweeter than honey.

“mmh—hn!” weak static fluctuated between an incessant buzzing to complete silence as you grabbed his ears roughly, tugging them back to reveal his dainty neck, a perfect place for you to latch your lips on, and soon you hear a jump in his voice as your teeth pierces his skin.

there was usually more leniency when it came to intimacy with al. you want him to enjoy it after all, so you let him bark a few insults here and there, mock you a little. whatever makes him comfortable, either way, his mouth usually ends up running out of words to play at the end of his little show of control once he gets overwhelmed, unable to read his script anymore as you drive his brain into an incoherent repeat of ‘please’.

but tonight, you watch him writhe and sob as his mouth is gagged and his body is completely tied to the bed, spread out and on full display as you ram into him, his head tossing and turning into the pillow behind him.

your hands ground him to reality, the sharp pain of your nails and unrelenting grip forcing him to stay somewhat conscious as you use him, showing how much power you have over alastor.

it was incredible to see his silver tongue unable to lacerate the air with insults, the gag upon him doing a great job at keeping him unable to throw jabs at you like you were some target at a range.

instead, all he could do was wail, drool spilling down his chin and making a mess of his dress shirt that you made sure to keep on him just to piss him off. you know how much he likes to keep his clothes in check. it’s part of his well-crafted image, after all.

“are you learning your place now, bambi?” you chuckle, your words cold on his skin, seeping into his body as he shivers at the frost, unable to protect himself from your punishment.

“answer me,” one of your hands leaves his waist, grabbing his chin and yanking him up towards you. a small, feeble whimper leaves his throat as you do so, and his eyes seem to dilate. dilate, out of all things.

“slut,” you spit, chuckling as you see his ears flop down. such a terrifying overlord, reduced to a small little deer in your hands. it was cute, how he looked at you.

it was even cuter when he shakes, so sensitive that he feels the need to twist and turn as you make him cum for the second time, his body jolting as your hand runs over his cock, still hard underneath your palm.

usually, you’d expect a sharp glare or some sort of defiance to your name-calling, but all you see is his eyes rolling back, his head tilting up as you release his chin.

there are tears that seem to adorn his cheeks like shooting stars in the sky, and babbling that‘s reminiscent of a muffled radio in another room. it was nice, seeing alastor’s breaking like this. watching him fall beneath the weight of his actions, unable to hold them up on his shoulders as they crush him in one fell swoop.

all because of you.

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @drlucichen @mvskedxrtist @luciferspetduck

[otomehoneyybearr]

Ikemen Prince 4th Anniversary Eve

Gilbert & Azel: The Relationship Unbeknownst to Anyone

Somewhere on a certain day—

Gilbert: "---I've always wondered if the conqueror beast and the sacred beast were one in the same."

Gilbert: "Both being evils of the world that control people and manipulate them as they please."

Azel: "I agree with the evil part. You and I would be better off not existing."

Azel: "We are both nuisances to the world, after all."

Gilbert: "Should we die together then?"

Azel: "You mean kill each other."

Gilbert: "That’s right."

Azel: "Disgusting."

Gilbert: "Agreed."

Azel: "So?"

Gilbert: "Hehe, no need to rush. I've went through the trouble of preparing food and drinks, so why not enjoy it first?"

Azel: "I'm having alcohol, while you're having water?"

Gilbert: "Oh, so you noticed."

Azel: "I am a god, after all."

Gilbert: "More like a con-artist, right?"

Azel: "That's another way to put it."

Gilbert: "Haha, you're not denying it."

Azel: "The title isn't that important."

Gilbert: "Really? I thought you’d be particular about it."

Azel: "Not at all. At least with you, being god or con-artist doesn't matter."

Azel: "I'm just a 'nuisance’ in the end, aren't I?"

Gilbert: "So you realized that."

Azel: "Just how many times do you think I've confiscated the weapons you smuggled into my country?"

Azel: "Can't you stop that? It's increasing my overtime and it's annoying."

Gilbert: "It only takes time because you carefully disassemble the firearms and send them back each time."

Gilbert: "Is that your hobby or something?"

Azel: "Do you want to be called a carefree rich boy?"

Gilbert: "Oh, so it was actually a declaration of war."

Azel: "If you understand that much, then don't bother asking. Tanzanite is the land of the gods,”

Azel: "So you should’ve realized by now that your spies and schemes are powerless in my sacred domain."

Gilbert: "Hmm, that's troublesome."

Gilbert: "It seems I miscalculated how difficult 'cleaning up' Tanzanite would be."

Gilbert: "Or perhaps I should say I underestimated you."

Gilbert: "Tanzanite has the lowest return rate for spies among the major countries."

Gilbert: "Currently you’re the only one from your country that's noticed my plans—No, more like, you're the only one at all."

Gilbert: "I thought that I could gather some information from you by sharing a drink, but..."

Gilbert: "You're quite hard to read. Is this what a god is like?"

Azel: "Donations are always welcome."

Gilbert: "Unfortunately for you, I only believe in myself."

Azel: "I figured as much. Spending time on you could be considered a waste."

Azel: "...Though a free meal does have its value."

Gilbert: "Haha, if you get along with me, there might be even better things in store for you."

Azel: "Not happening."

Gilbert: "Oh, that was an immediate answer. Despite us being somewhat similar."

Azel: "That's just slander."

Azel: "I don't distrust human potential as much as you do."

Azel: "Humanity doesn't need gods or beasts."

Gilbert: "...Is that so?"

Azel: "Want to bet?"

Gilbert: "Sure, sounds interesting."

Gilbert: "Your schemes are like mirages, vague and hard to grasp, but..."

Gilbert: "I'll bet on the foolishness of humans."

Azel: "Then I'll bet the opposite."

Azel: "I'll bet on the potential of humans."

Azel: "They have the ability to cleanse themselves. They can recognize and atone for their mistakes."

Azel: "Make sure to prepare your money, Disaster boy."

Gilbert: "You too."

Some little notes I had:

*: There's a possibility of Azel being older than Gilbert, seeing as he would attach things like (ーくん)-kun or (ーちゃん)-chan to the nicknames he gave Gilbert…That or Azel's was just trying to antagonize him.

**: Alternative interpretation of the nickname carefree rich boy could be 'airheaded/thoughtless young master'

***: Alternative interpretation of the nickname (厄災くん or yakusai-kun)Disaster boy could be 'Mr. Calamity'

I wasn't sure which of these interpretations would fit Azel's dialogue more, so I wanted to leave these notes so that everyone can get a general sense of the word/nickname.

Master List

▼・ᴥ・▼

[kurishiri]

both ends clear . . . “ a convenient, happy ‘reality’ ”

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— 🤍 both ends cleared story for alfons. this is all told in his point of view.

— cw: alcohol consumption, invasion of personal space, awkwardly translated smut; you know the drill!

—— Alfons’ POV ——

—— Flashback ——

Having thought it would be infinitely better to die on the roadside, I had left the orphanage. And on that day,

a cat was crying in an alley.

That day, my lips got cut after a beating, so I still had dried bread that was handed to me in my pocket...

Alfons: ...Want some?

When I offered the bread, the cat slowly crept toward me, and then nibbled on the bread.

Alfons: ...You want to live that much?

A: Even though this reality isn’t even kind to you...

The kitten didn’t utter a sound, only continuing to eat.

Albeit foolishly and miserably so, it tried its very hardest to live.

Alfons: And if you want to live that badly... I guess I better help you then.

—— End flashback ——

Kate: I-I overslept again——!

Alfons: Ahha! First thing in the morning and you’re in ever high spirits, I see.

Still nude, Kate’s complexion paled as soon as she woke up. At this point, I’ve seen this so often one hand was hardly enough to count.

Alfons: Now now, why so bent on this? It’s not as though you are going to die.

A: I’m more than positive that if you apologize with all your heart, you’ll be let off the hook.

Kate: Wh—you do know this is your fault, don’t you!?

K: I even told you yesterday that I had a promise to keep so I needed to get up early today, and yet...

Alfons: And yet we did such naughty things, and it escalated to the point you ended up crying out, no?

Kate: ...!

Rendered speechless, she turned away and got off the bed,

and she pulled her clothes, standing ready in this room’s closet, and began to change.

Alfons: Goodness, what a cruel one you are, Kate, leaving your lover behind on the bed for a promise you made with another man.

A: Since when have you become so wicked, I wonder?

While sprawled on the bed, I placed my elbow on the pillow and looked on at Kate, whose lips were in a pout.

Kate: Well, I promised I was going to go and get the photo I took of you before,

K: so there’s really nothing going on I would feel guilty about.

Alfons: Hehe... there’s no need to deny it so vehemently; I assure you I know. After all, you——

Kate: ...I what?

Alfons: ——Well, your body just can’t bear it unless it’s with me, you see.

Kate: ...I was a fool to even ask in earnest. I’ll be going now.

Alfons: Yes, yes, have a good time. Ahh, and I think I will be coming back late.

Kate: Ah——that’s right, today... you have a mission, don’t you? Be careful and come back safely, alright?

Alfons: Worry not, for unlike a certain someone I am quite faithful.

Kate: That’s not what I meant...

K: If you go out of your way to get hurt and whatnot, I’ll... I’ll punish you...!

Kate’s face reddened as she declared this before turning and leaving the room.

(...‘Punish,’ she says...) (O_O)

Alfons: Pfft, ahahaha!

A: Ahh... dear me, what darling words.

A: Indeed, why are Kate’s parting threats always so cute like this, I wonder.

(Like how alcohol and staying up late was bad for the body, or how if I got hurt she would punish me...)

For threats those words were much too kind, and it was quite amusing to say the least.

The reason she was going out, and her worry, I knew they were all for my sake.

And yet, that heroic side of her, as astounding as it was, was so cute, I couldn’t help but be a little mean and tease her a bit: call it a bad habit of mine.

(Such a troublesome way of caring, and yet it’s the only way I know how. And perhaps, I may someday run out of love.)

My heart, long used to throwing away any notion of hope, still whispered to ‘let it become that way.’

But every time that happened, I would hear Kate’s voice in my mind.

——It won’t turn out that way!

(The Kate in my mind would never leave me behind.)

That was my convenient delusion.

And, to me, my happy illusion.

—— Time skip ——

(Now then... what sort of interesting things is the little robin up to now?)

When I had returned to the castle after the mission, I was told by Elbie that Kate had gone to the pub.

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: Why again, so late at night?

Elbert: Because when your missions end late, you often go to the pub.

E: So, Kate said that she would wait there...

—— End flashback ——

(There is no such person in that pub who would leave a woman there so late at night alone.)

I went down the familiar staircase and slipped into the lively pub——and as expected, Kate was being pressed by a ‘friend.’

Black-haired young man: Don’t be so stuck up now. How about we two lonely people get along and have a drink?

Kate: I’ll pass. Besides, I’m not really lonely.

Like a prideful cat, she had her face turned,

but perhaps in an effort to swallow her displeasure and fear, Kate’s hold on her glass tightened.

Black-haired young man: You waitin’ for Al? Not like you made any promise with him, right?

Black-haired young man: Leave him be. He’s a good-for-nothing who doesn’t have an ounce of love in him, you know?

(A good-for-nothing without an ounce of love... indeed, if one were to ask about me at this pub,)

(not a single person would answer with something other than that, I reckon.)

While I counted the words in the repertoire of words that were used as insults against me in my mind——

Kate, for the first time, turned toward the ‘friend’ at last.

Kate: I won’t deny that Alfons is the lowest of the low, with no morals or ethics to speak of, and a good-for-nothing,

K: but he does have much more than an ounce of love.

(...) (O_O)

Black-haired young man: Pfft, hahaha! A woman who’s so easily fooled like you doesn’t come around every day either. ...But in all seriousness, you really should let him go.

Black-haired young man: He’ll make a mess of your life, and it’ll be too late to regret anything after you’ve been through it.

My ‘friend’——Craig looked at Kate with narrowed eyes, slightly saddened, as though he was seeing someone else in her,

and he quietly reached out for those shoulders.

Alfons: You sure like getting hands on with others, don’t you.

Craig: Whoa—!?

Just before his hands touched her shoulder, I stopped him with my palm,

and Craig practically flew out of his counter chair.

Kate: Alfons!?

Craig: W-what the... what’s the big deal? Not like you ever had a special someone before.

C: So this time wouldn’t be any different from a whim of a relationship before fading right out, right?

Kate: ...

For a moment, Kate’s expression wavered with a bit of sadness.

Seeing that left a bad taste in me, and before I could think, my mouth moved first.

Alfons: ——Why, I beg to differ?

A: She’s such a darling toy, one I could hardly leave behind. After all, I very much am one with much more than an ounce of love.

Kate: ...!

Alfons: But putting that aside, Craig,

Craig: ...What is it?

Alfons: At least on the anniversary of your wife’s passing, I hope you may spend the rest of this night in a good mood.

I removed his gloves, and then gently touched the back of his neck.

Alfons: ——Tonight, shut yourself out those self-condemning notions, and go to sleep back home after another drink.

A: “And perhaps, you may see a nostalgic dream, rivaled by none other.”

—— Time skip: night city ——

Alfons: Goodness, to think you would go out to play at night and seduce another man... you naughty one, you.

Kate: No, it’s not that! I was thinking you might come by here, so I was waiting for you.

K: Like, maybe you would come for a drink after a mission so you wouldn’t feel as weary and whatnot.

K: And I wanted to be there too, if possible...

Alfons: None the more noble, I see,

A: as your partner is a man who gets told things like how ‘this is on a whim before fading right out.’

Kate: But I don’t think that.

Alfons: Even though you seemed rather saddened for a moment back there?

Kate: That... is because, I thought how even among your friend circle, there are those that misunderstand you.

Alfons: Aha, but it’s not a misunderstanding? I really am someone who will turn down nobody who comes to me, nor will I chase after anyone who leaves.

A: For you see, I’m but a piece of trash who would fade right out if things become troublesome.

Kate: But the people you spend time with are always those that are suffering, right?

K: So, even when you ‘fade right out,’ that is also for other people’s sake, isn’t it?

K: I can’t think of that as loveless. After all...

K: What else could the feeling of wanting to help others be called, if not love?

Alfons: ......... (O_O)

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: And if you want to live that badly... I guess I better help you then.

—— End flashback ——

If her words really were true...

Then what I had felt at that time was ‘love’——at least, that may be the case.

A single word from her was enough to make such a convenient interpretation feel like reality.

Kate: Before, I was really happy. When you said straight up how you wouldn’t leave me.

K: And the fact how, after that, you showed Craig an illusion...

K: In the end, I really do love you, Alfons.

Instead of falling out of love, she said such a thing with a casual smile.

(...To think that, more than this happy illusion in my mind and whatnot,)

(the Kate in reality is so much more convenient to me...)

Alfons: ...You are just full of surprises, aren’t you.

Kate: Huh? What was that?

Alfons: Goodness, you weren’t listening?

A: I said that tonight we’re going to do so many naughty things you won’t know what’s what anymore.

—— Time skip: Alfons’ room ——

Kate: Ahh...

Like a cat, Kate’s waist was lifted as she lied face down on the bed,

and when I pulled away from her, she jumped a little.

After climaxing again, she shivered at the lingering sound of her wet entrance.

When I inserted a finger in that stirred up area, she lowered her hips as though becoming frightened.

Kate: N-no more...

Alfons: Really? Because the inside of you seems to think otherwise around my fingers. ...See.

Kate: no, I—ah, ahh——

While kneading the swollen bud with my thumb, I moved my two fingers inside.

I went for the place she loved the most, where she squeezed my fingers, and together with a lewd sound, she squirted.

Alfons: Hehe... to think teasing you just a little was enough to make you come, your body has become quite the naughty thing, hasn’t it.

Kate: I... I wanted to look at the photo... together with you though...

The envelope she received, which contained the photo that had just been processed,

was left unopened on the side table.

Alfons: You can look at photos at any time... so how about looking at the real me here?

Kate: ...ngh... uh...?

I took her limp wrists and pulled her up,

And Kate, her eyes seeming to melt with intoxication, went along with being pulled.

(As usual, she’s quite defenseless, isn’t she...)

When would she realize that shaking her head the moment she finally realized that the place she was taken to was in front of the mirror

would have the opposite effect, I wonder?

My hand made its way behind her knee before lifting her leg up.

Kate: no... ah...

Alfons: See now, look here, won’t you. ...So that you won’t ever forget.

Kate: ...!

When I murmured those words, Kate tried to bear any sense of shame she had.

Alfons: How lewd it feels with my cock in your mouth.

Kate: hah... haa... ah, ahh——

Alfons: ...And also,

A: in what ways I love you.

Not wanting to forget me even after I died, she would record me,

and look straight forward while pushing down her embarrassment, engraving them into her memory.

(Kate, truly, what a pitiable, darling soul you are.)

(All that effort, even when I have no intention of dying before you.)

But, I had no intention of saying that to her either. In all likeliness, it would remain my secret for the rest of this lifetime.

(After all, seeing how your mind is filled to the brim with me, and how hard-working you are, brings me no end of amusement.)

(And, even if you were to find out this secret of mine——)

(I’m sure you would be exasperated and angry, but still you would love me after that.)

This may not necessarily amount to a convenient delusion,

but those teary eyes that looked at me through the mirror let me think that.

After we indeed felt so good we didn’t know what was what anymore,

Kate fell asleep, with me holding her. And suddenly, I felt a nostalgic rush from the silence of the night.

I remembered that very night, when I had fallen asleep while holding a small warmth I had found in an alley.

That was the first night I had ever felt such serenity in the silence.

masterlist🪞 ╱ ko-fi ☕️

NOTE: thank you to everyone who has kept up with this translation and supported me (especially those who have commented or reblogged)! it means the world to me and makes these more-than-two-months worth it if you enjoyed it 🥹🫶 i plan to translate his side stories as well if i can, though they may be out of order.

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia @.comment, send an ask off anon, or dm to be added or removed!

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Lesbians WIN & I'm excited about a Thai BL again!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

April 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

My Stand-In (Thai Fri iQIYI) ep 1 of 12 eps - Adaptation of Chinese novel Professional Body Double by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KP (not a recommendation IMHO - my biggest criticism of KP was the clashing directing styles). The MDL description made it sound complicated af but actually it's not so bad. In fact it's GOOD.

Stuntman Joe dies on the job and wakes up in the body of another Joe who has an entirely different life. But our Joe just gets his new body right back into his old existence, full of friends, enemies, and one troublesome ex. Poom is absolutely killing it in the lead. Mek is perfectly cast as the Actor du Jerk. I’m not sold on Up’s bratty brokenhearted rich kid... yet. The show though, I like it. I like a one (two) night stand starting things off and I like a lot of morally gray characters. Fun fun!

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 8fin - The lesbian moms are the cutest thing in the world and my favorite thing this week. Bar none.

Summation:

It's about a host club and all the gay boys in it and some stuff that's not important because... PEOPLE OF EARTH WE HAVE A HONEST REP OF POLY IN A BL. Stand up and raise your hands in prayer to the Thai BL gods because sure as shit no one else was ever going to give this to us. For that alone this show gets 8/10 from me. Bonus Lesbian moms and great kisses.

Two Worlds (Thurs iQIYI) ep 7 of 10 - Say what you want about MaxNat all these years that they've been paired makes them great onscreen boyfriends. And you know me, I'm a total sucker for linguistic negotiation. Makes my heart go all mushy. That said, now that the leads are together, I’m really uninterested in all the drama around the ex-boyfriend/triangle. I'm glad this is only 10 eps.

1000 Years Old (Thurs iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - They gave me the tiniest teaser for the kinky vampire BL that I have wanted my whole life. And now I'm just fucking annoyed with the rest of the show. 

We Are (Weds iQIYI) ep 3-4 of 16 - Q & Toey are the only interesting thing going on. I actually didn’t like this pair in My School President, but I’m enjoying them here. The others are all fine but these two have my heart. I have questions like: did Phum ever get his shopping bags back? And why is Phum driving a different colored car half way through the ep?

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - The quality is good (it’s GMMTV) but the acting is... not. Still I loved that Moo just made the confession for both of them. Very in character. Does this plot remind anyone else of Footloose? Just me? Side couple was cute but now a bit too stalker for me. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues YouTube & Viki) ep 10 of 12 - It’s fantastic. Such a great show. We are so lucky. This is basically Taiwan’s The Eights Sense. I didn’t know they had it in them, but I’m really glad that they did.

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - As JBL’s go this is way more my speed (than Alaska). It’s just so sweet and awkward but charming about it. The confession was so earnest. 

Blue Boys (Korea YouTube) 2 of ? No MDL link - It’s very sexy this one. Not sure what Korea thinks it's doing, but I’m not mad about it. 

Gray Shelter (Korea Thurs iQIYI) ep 5fin - summation: About a slacker nursing a crush on the (brief) older stepbrother who abandoned him. Upon finding him again he moves in with him, upends the mans lost suffering life. A dark gritty piece with confusing subs making it too chewy to really grok. It's trying to do too much for its length. The tension is real and the acting is good, it's just everything else stymied clean execution of the core concept. Frankly I spent this show expecting (and wanting them) to just fall into bed together - in a kind of desperate fight sex. It didn’t happen, and I’m disappointed by the non-ending we got. (Whether it’s going to have more in the series or not.) 7/10 I'm open to changing the rank if a part two fixes this one's flaws.

Boys Be Brave AKA Roommates (Korea Thurs Viki) ep 1-2 of 8 - Oh dear. Terrible hair. Jock nerd pairing. OCD baby cakes. Cohabitation trope. Killer side couple. Def unhinged. 

At 25:00 in Alaska AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - I’m still genuinely not sure about this one. It’s just a little too awkward for me in the wrong way. I expect all Japanese BL to have a certain aura of awkwardness so I don’t know what it is about this one turnign me off. I do enjoy that we’re getting both stories, the one between the actors, and a little bit of the roles that they’re playing on screen but... yeah

Love is like a Cat (Korea Mon Viki) eps 7-8 of 12 - The leads finally had a moment but there is negative chemistry. Why am I watching this? 

It's airing but...

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

Memory in the Letter (Thai WeTV) - 6 eps, when it's done, tell me if I should bother?

In case you missed it

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) 6 eps - finished its run but I won't be finishing it. Stays dropped.

GMMTV announced the second half of their 2024 line up. I got excited and picked my favorites, details + trailers here. Basically my ranking is:

The Heart Killers

ThamePo

Revamp

Sweet Tooth

Perfect 10 Liners

The Ex-Morning

Ossan’s Love Thailand

Next Week Looks Like This:

What happened?

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous pairing) and Best, news here. But will it actually air this month?

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

I have adopted him. He is MINE. I love him, your honor. (The Stand In)

I love them SO MUCH. (Deep Night)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

[venerawrites]

Can I request an Imagine where a fem character is captured by the enemy and she’s under a genjutsu where she’s being tortured by Shikamaru (who she loves) but is pulled out of it just in time by Shika who actually gets there in time with a team? Comfort fluff, reassuring, and he admits he loves her?

author's note: I have been writing this literally for ages, but now that all my assignments are officially done, I finally had a chance to catch up! Thank you so much for your patience and this beautiful idea! I absolutely loved writing this one! I hope you like it! <3

warnings: mentions of torture; swearing

There is something comforting in darkness. Once it welcomes you in its embrace, all your fears, worries, and thoughts just... disappear. Your body and your mind relax and for once, it is all quiet.

And silence is beautiful.

Two strong hands wrapped around your neck, pulling you harshly out of the water and bringing all your senses back to reality. The sudden rush of air filling your lungs made you choke and you struggled to take another breath. The comforting silence, in which you were blissfully floating just a second ago, was interrupted by the rapid beating of your heart and the muffled sound of someone's voice next to you.

"-absolutely pathetic", your brain registered only the last words of what the person said. You coughed once again and another hefty amount of dirty water made its way out of your body, letting you breathe more freely. Your chest felt heavy and all your muscles screamed in pain, making this moment of awareness feel more like a punishment than a relief.

With a few slow blinks, the darkness started to lift and your surroundings started to become clearer. At first, all you could see was the sky - so grey and sad, a sure sign it was about to rain soon. Then your focus shifted to the trees and the strange way their leaves stood still, despite the wind around you. Finally, your eyes shifted to the silhouette sitting next to you. Blinking a few more times, their face started to become more focused and you let out a breath of relief, once you realised it was your best friend who saved you from what seemed like sure death.

"Shika...", you said weakly, not having the energy to even pronounce his full name. Instinctively reaching your hand toward him, you tried to get a hold of his hand, his warmth being the only thing your body craved right now. The said man let out a scoff, moving out of the way just when you were about to reach him. When you hand hit nothing but air, you slowly opened your eyes, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Shika?", you repeated, lifting your head just a bit, so you could see the man better. Sitting on a small stone next to you, he stared at you with a bored expression, a half-burn cigarette hanging from his lips. There was something in weird in his eyes, something which you have seen only a handful of times in all the years you have known him.

Was it anger? Annoyance? Hate?

You couldn't exactly tell, your brain still struggling to make sense of where you are and how did you got there. The last thing you remember was fighting a group of rogue ninjas near Amegakure, before something was wrapped around both your arms and legs, forcing you to the ground. You must have passed out because now you were on the river bank near Konoha, a place where you and Shikamaru played from dawn to dusk when you were children.

"He probably brought me here to clean my wounds", was the first thought that came to your your head, while you tried to lift yourself on your elbows.

"Shika, what-"

The words got stuck in your throat, once your friend's hands found their way around it once again. His nails dug into the skin and you winced in pain, your own fingers wrapping around his wrists in an attempt to pull him away. His power, however, was no match for you and all you could do was stare at him with wide eyes, a silent plead for him to let go.

"Just shut the hell up, troublesome woman! You always ramble on and on, and on...", the fingers on your neck tightened their grip and you opened your mouth, desperately trying to inhale some air and combat the dizziness that started to consume you due to the lack of oxygen. However, Shikamaru did not seem impressed by your struggle or the way you kept tapping his arm. Instead of freeing you, he leaned forward, pressing his full body weight on you.

"I've never hated any sound more than my name coming out of your lips! I fucking hate it! I fucking hate YOU!"

Hissing the last words through gritted teeth, he finally let go of your throat, only to smack his palm against your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, a few droplets of blood flying from your mouth. The burning feeling on your cheek, however, felt almost insignificant compared to the overwhelming feelings of shock and confusion that paralyzed your body. The echo of his words kept sounding in your mind, each repetition making your heart beat faster and faster in panic.

"What...", you chocked out, eyes searching his, "What's going on?"

A dry, almost sinister chuckle left his lips and the sound sent shivers down your spine. He lowered his head right above yours before grabbing your cheeks in one hand, squishing your face. A small whine sounded from you and the man narrowed his eyes, observing you with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

"Look at yourself... calling yourself a ninja, yet you can't handle even a single mission by yourself!", he muttered with disdain, his gaze not leaving yours. You tried to pull your head away, but his grip was so tight, you were unable to move even a muscle.

Tears of frustration started to form in your eyes, a few sliding down your cheeks. Normally, in moments like these, Shikamaru would be the one holding you, muttering sweet words of comfort in your ears. His hands would stroke your hair, while he rocks your body back and forth till you calm down and fall asleep on top of him.

Now he offered nothing but a look of disgust.

"Wh-What are you doing?", your voice betrayed you, sounding smaller than you intended to, "Shikamaru, why are you holding me like this?"

The first rule of the shinobi was to never give up. It was a life full of pain and sacrifice, but the end goal was the protection of the people - and for that, you had to fight, even if you had no energy left in you.

But as you laid beneath Shikamaru, staring at his dark eyes, full of contempt, you couldn't do anything but let the tears fall freely from your eyes. A good ninja would probably seize the moment and use it as a distraction to draw their weapon and stab their attacker, but how could you do that, when the person on top of you was the person you loved and cherished the most in this world? The person that has been your best friend for more than 10 years? The person who was your rock during the hardest periods of your life? The love of your life?

Before you could realise what was happening, his hands lifted you by the neck, pushing your head below the water again. This time, however, there was no comfort in it - it was cold and unwelcoming, sending waves of shock through your entire body. It stung your eyes and it filled your nose and mouth, making you panic. Your mind screamed at you to fight back, to somehow wrench yourself out of his grasp. Throwing both your arms and legs around, you tried to throw him off you, but his fingers only dug deeper into your skin, his knees landing on top of your thighs to keep you still.

Just as your vision started to fade, he brought you back to the surface and you gasped for air, choking in the water still stuck in your lungs.

"I fucking hate you... Do you understand that? I hate the way you whine all the fucking time, clinging to me like a leech! You always cry, never taking any responsibility for anything!", his tone was low, but filled with hatred, "I hate you so fucking much, I've been fantasizing about how to shut your mouth once and for all for so long!"

Barely giving you a chance to even register his words, he pressed your head down once again. Unlike last time, you were under only for a few seconds, before he pulled you out.

"You are nothing but a burden! To me, to your family, to everyone in that damned village!"

"NO! STOP!"

Each word felt like a dagger piercing through your chest, crushing whatever hope remained that all this was just a bad dream and that you would wake up any moment in Shikamaru's bed, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.

What the hell happened during your mission? When did he even appear? Did he save you? Why was he so angry with you?

Your head was filled with questions and soon there was nothing but a messy tangle of thoughts. A small voice at the back of your mind kept repeating his words.

"Nothing but a burden..."

The words hit deeper than you liked to admit. Back when you were younger you were the weakest kid in class, much to the dismay of your parents, both of which were great and strong shinobi. The other children rarely wanted to play with you - most of the time they viewed you as someone who couldn't keep up with their speed and energy. Naruto and Shikamaru were the only ones who reached out to you back then, the only ones who stood by you when no one else would.

While the blonde was a dear friend to you, nothing could compare to the bond you shared with the young Nara. He has always been a constant in your life, a safe haven to which you could run once the reality was too much to bear. Countless nights he held you in his embrace when you couldn't sleep because your family was fighting once again. He always left his window slightly open, an unspoken invitation for you to come anytime you wanted. Thinking back, sneaking into your best friend's bed at night was maybe not the wisest decision, as it was during one of these times you realised you were utterly and madly in love with him.

You remembered that night clearly. The two of you were laying side by side on his bed, the only light coming from the bright moon up in the sky. It was the night after Asuma's funeral and despite his initial warning for you not to come, you still made your way to his house at 2:00 o'clock at night. He didn't utter even a word when he saw you entering through his window, instead, he only lifted his blanket, making a space for you to join him. You laid down and he immediately pulled you under him, burying his head in the space between your neck and shoulder, his hot tears falling on your bare skin.

As he clung to you, your fingers gently rubbed his scalp, offering your silent support. What wouldn't you give to take his pain away, to bring back his beloved sensei, and to make him forget the horrors he witnessed that day.

"I don't know what I would do without you...", he whispered against your hair, his breath tickling your scalp.

"You don't have to think about that", you whispered back, your fingers still combing through his black locks, "I am here. I always will be."

Shikamaru didn't answer. Instead, he lifted his head and looked at you with his bloodshot eyes, before pressing his lips against yours. It was a quick and gentle peck, a promise of a friend, rather than a lover's confession. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, muttering a quiet 'I am sorry.', before rolling on his side and falling asleep.

Neither of you said anything about it afterward. The next morning you woke up and continued your usual routine, as if nothing had happened. There were moments when you wondered if it was all a dream - maybe you were so in love with him that your brain started to play tricks with you. Yet, there was a weird comfort in not knowing if it was all just an illusion. Sometimes you liked to think that it was, indeed, real.

Slowly losing consciousness due to the lack of air, everything started to fade, except the memory of that night. It kept replaying over and over in your mind, feeling so real, you could almost feel his chapped lips against yours.

How ironic and unfair was that? Your last moments are spent thinking about the man who is currently the source of your suffering.

Suddenly the grip on your neck disappeared and you felt something sliding under your head and knees, lifting you back to the surface. Too tired to fight or even open your eyes, you let yourself be carried out of the river. A frantic voice was shouting something right in your face, but you could not recognize it, nor could understand what it was saying. Your limbs, chest, and eyelids felt so heavy, all you wanted was just to relax and let your body rest.

The second you were laid down on a flat surface, someone's mouth was pressed against yours, blowing air into your lungs. The sudden rush of oxygen made your body jolt and you would've probably hurt yourself, if the person who was bringing you back to life did not have their hands on your chest, rhythmically pumping.

Finally, you took your first breath on your own and you coughed violently, turning your body to the side so you could spit the excess water from your mouth. The hands that saved you made their way to your back, gently patting it to help you stop choking.

"Shit, are you okay?", the sound of the familiar voice made your body freeze.

"No! It cannot end like this!", you thought to yourself, the feeling of panic already bubbling inside of you. What game was Shikamaru playing? He almost ended your life, just to bring you back... What type of cruel torture was that?

"Hey... can you hear me? Please, answer me. Please, I can't-"

Before he could finish, you turned toward him and punched him as hard as you could. The man stumbled back from his kneeling position, cupping his nose in an attempt to stop the flowing blood. You used the opportunity to drag your weak body away from him, ignoring the sharp pain that pulsated through each one of your muscles.

"Stay away!", you yelled, glancing back at him, "Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to kill me?"

The young Nara looked at you with a confused expression, taking a step toward you, but immediately stopping once he saw the fear on your face.

"Kill you? What are you-", the sudden realisation of what was going on downed on him and he lifted both his hands from his face in a defensive motion, "Wait! No! It's not what you think!"

Ignoring his words, you continued to drag yourself away, gritting your teeth at the feeling of your skin scraping against the ground. Looking in his direction again, you found he was already on his feet but he had not moved from his original position.

"Please... I'm not going to hurt you!", he begged, his voice filled with desperation, "Just stop for a second! Listen to me!"

Letting out a sigh, you dropped to the ground, too exhausted to continue your escape attempt. Deep down you knew there was no point - you were surrounded by nothing but a field and while you managed to create a significant distance between you, he was on his feet, while you were crawling on your elbows. It was clear that no matter what you did, you won't be able to run away from him. The only option you had was to just wait and hope he was going to finish this quickly.

"Why?", the question came out as a broken whisper and you were not even sure he heard it, "Why are you doing this?"

Shikamaru's gaze softened and he made a small step toward you, testing your reaction. When he saw you made no movement, he made another step before stopping again. Only the gods knew he wanted nothing more than to run toward you and hold you in his arms, making sure you were okay. The spark of fear in your eyes, however, made him control his urges and he used all his willpower to remain calm and rational.

Seeing you like this... it was like his world was falling apart. He was not a violent person, far from it, but somewhere back in his mind, he kept imagining bringing the rogue ninja that put you through this back to life, just so he could kill him again. And then again. And then again. As many times as it took for him to feel like he did you justice.

The image of your face twisted in a silent scream, your whole body covered in blood, was one that he was never going to forget. And oh, how he wished he could! Ino and Choji have never seen their teammate lose control like this, not even when their sensei died. The piercing shriek that left his lips the moment he saw you, the way he ran toward your body, the bloodthirst in his gaze, while he slashed the enemy's throat open... it was almost like something dark and demonic had possessed him.

"You were under a genjutsu... everything that you felt and saw... it was not real. It was NOT me", with each word he closed the distance more and more, till he found himself right in front of you. Crouching next to your form, he extended his hand to touch yours, brows furrowing when he saw you flinch back.

"Please! Whatever you saw, whatever that bastard made you believe... it was NOT ME!", his voice remained low, yet it was getting more distressed, "I would never, ever hurt you! Never!"

He reached out again, this time slower so he could give you a chance to comprehend his words and move back if you wanted to. Shifting your look between his eyes and his hand, you took a deep breath, before letting him touch you. The warmth of his fingers brightly contrasted with your cold skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"It's me...", his hand slowly moved up toward your face, cradling your cheek in his palm and gently stroking it with his thumb. Your muscles remained frozen, still unsure if this was a trick or not, "I'm here. I'm here..."

He kept repeating the same words over and over, while cautiously moving his body closer, so he could wrap his arms around you. Your eyes danced around your surroundings, finally appreciating that you were in fact NOT next to the river in Konoha. Instead, you were at the exact same spot where you lost consciousness during your fight. The pieces of the mystery of what happened finally started to come together in your mind and the reality hit you like a wave, washing over the lingering doubts in your mind.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all that came out was a loud sob. And then another... Soon, the tears started freely flowing down your cheeks while your body shook with the intensity of the shock of what actually happened. Shikamaru kept you pressed tightly against his chest, his own tears falling on top of your hair, while he rocked both of you back and forth.

"I am so sorry!", he muttered, pressing his nose into your head, "I am so, so sorry! It's all my fault!"

"Shika-"

"If I didn't waste so much time planning and strategizing, I would've been here on time! I would've been able to save you, I would've been able to kill that bastard before he had the chance to hurt you!", he rambled on, more to himself than to you.

"Shikamaru!"

The sound of his name, together with the feeling of your fingers on his face finally caught his attention and he gazed down at you, his dark eyes still glossy and red.

"You saved me...", you said tracing his jaw, "You actually came for me."

He let out a quiet scoff, squeezing you tighter. His lips found their way to your forehead, placing a small kiss on it and lingering for a few seconds after that.

"Of course, I came for you, you troublesome woman", he sighed, closing his eyes. Holding the person you were in love with for years and who you thought you'd lost forever had to be the most surreal feeling.

At least for him.

There were a few seconds of silence between you, during which you just held each other. No words were spoken, but none were needed - the way you clung to one another, ignoring everyone and everything else, spoke of all of the feelings and affections you kept hidden in your hearts. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear Ino's voice talking, but your mind could not focus on anything but Shikamaru's heartbeat next to your ear.

"I've thought I lost you...", the sudden admission was quiet, almost as if he didn't really want you to hear it. He gulped, moving his head back so he can look into your eyes.

"That night when I said I don't know what I would do without you... I meant it. I still do! I would choose death any day if it means I wouldn't have to face the risk of losing you."

His words made your eyes widen and you stared back at him, trying to read his emotions. The Nara was not a man who liked to talk about his feelings, so any insight into his mind and heart was always surprising. A slight blush covered his cheeks, a sign that despite his moment of courage, he was still feeling nervous about your response.

"I love you."

"I love you."

Both of you blurted it out at the same time, your expressions slowly changing from scared to shocked. You blinked a few times, your brain taking some extra seconds to process his words. Finally, a small smile broke on your lips. Shikamaru, on the other hand, tried to remain serious, but the corners of his mouth kept tugging upwards.

"I want to kiss you."

"Is that your way of asking me for permission or you are just telling me?", you raised a brow and he let out a small laugh at your words.

"I am telling you."

With that one of his palms found your chin, gently cupping it and lifting your head toward him. You could feel his minty breath mixing with your own as he leaned in, not moving his eyes from yours.

The kiss was light, at first you barely felt his mouth against yours. It was delicate and somewhat unsure, just like the kiss you shared that fateful night. The more your lips moved together, the more confident you both became and he grabbed the back of your neck, holding you into place while his tongue met yours. It was all so new, yet it felt so familiar - almost like you've done that a thousand times before.

Finally pulling back, he rested his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath.

"You have no idea how many years I have been dreaming" about this", he landed one more peck, before scooping you in his arms and lifting you, "Let's go home."

cc artwork: Xiaodi Jin

[dear--mars]

Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?

── Synopsis: Soulmates. The concept sounded unreal, too good to be true. And it seemed it was. Nothing lasts forever and the thought of being together even in another world was just a dream.

── Characters: Wriothesley, Scaramouche, and Kaeya

── CW: Mentions of violence and alcoholism. Scara being a fucking weirdo.

── Notes: based on that tt trend :p. [angst/no comfort]

── Word count: 365 + 421 + 455 = 1241 words in total

Wriothesley ── Working in the Fortress of Meropide had its downsides. Situated deep underwater, the prison demanded constant overseeing. As the warden, Wriothesley's responsibilities included overseeing the fortress 98% of the time. 

Yet, in the cold and darkness of this watery prison, there was a beacon of warmth and light – you. To Wriothesley, you were akin to the sun, providing a sense of comfort and solace in an otherwise desolate and forbidding environment.

Wriothesley loved you more than he thought could love. Your unwavering support had been a constant source of strength for him, but he was beginning to realize that even you had your limits.

It was cold, more so than usual. Wriothesley thought it a bit unusual to feel this chill even though you were right in front of him, Unsurprisingly, you had come to visit. 

The recent visits you’ve made had been met with Wriothesley having to turn you away. due to a troublesome criminal who kept picking fights with the other inmates. 

There were no words spoken, odd considering you heavily disliked silence. Wriothesley was never big on initiating conversation so you did it. It was always you who would talk and he would listen. 

…

Okay. Wriothesley couldn’t keep pretending. He knew it was falling apart, your relationship, your love for him. It was fading away but he didn’t want to comment on it. Scared that if he pointed it out, everything would burn.

Yet he couldn’t stop his mouth from moving and uttered but one sentence. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?” Wriothesley regretted asking immediately afterward but didn’t show it.

Your face glossed over in surprise and looked up from your teacup, gazing at him with unreadable eyes. “No.” Your answer was short but not sweet, more bitter if anything. 

You paused as if contemplating adding to your answer. “Not even in this one.” You finished and Wriothesley could feel his heart shatter. He wasn’t an idiot, Wriothesley knew what you were implying with your last sentence yet he couldn’t find anything in himself to refute your words.

He wasn't made for love and if you, his sun, thought so as well. Who is he to think otherwise?

Scaramouche ── A puppet. That’s all Scaramouche thought of himself as. That’s all Scaramouche saw in himself. A worthless puppet that failed at its life’s purpose. 

But with you, he felt like something more and he hated it. He felt something, felt the disgusting human emotions that no puppet should feel. He resented it. It was the reason behind his abandonment in the first place.

So why? Why did it feel so good? Why did you make him feel so good? Why did your hand caressing his hair feel so soothing? Why did your lips feel so soft on his? But most importantly, why did you make him feel whole?

Scaramouche was disgusted with himself. He was the 6th Fatui harbinger. A title that would spread fear in the hearts of people from all across Teyvat including yours but you didn’t know so what was the harm? 

But it seems like the world hated Scaramouche just as much as Scaramouche hated it. 

It seems that word got around that Scaramouche had a lover. Then one day, you got kidnapped by some Anti-Fatui organization. 

Scaramouche flew into a rage and saved you before you had gotten injured but not fast enough to stop you from finding out who he truly was. You parted ways that day.

It wasn’t until 2 years later when he was in Sumeru, that he saw a whiff of your scent when walking around at Port Ormos. He whipped his head around and followed the scent.

He saw you, working at a flower shop stand. Finally, after years of being apart. He walked closer, hearing footsteps you looked up with a customer service smile. “Welcome-...” your voice trails off as your face hardens.

“What can I get for you?” You asked coldly, glaring at him. Scaramouche froze, you used to look at him with such gentle caring eyes but that wasn’t the case here.

Scaramouche’s mouth moved on its own, spewing out the stupidest question he could ever ask. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?” It was dumb, even Scaramouche could admit he cringed Immediately after he finished his sentence.

“I didn’t even want you in this one.” You said emotionlessly and Scaramouche’s face was the one that hardened this time around. He grits his teeth. 

Of course, you would say that. Scaramouche didn't know what he wanted you to say but he knew that that wasn’t it. Why would he have expected anything else? And why did it feel like his heart was taken away once again?

Kaeya ── Being with Kaeya was not for the weak of heart. He was a walking red flag. Kaeya was a raging alcoholic and was never afraid to show that nor did he bother to change.

But most importantly, secrets. He kept so many secrets. It wasn’t that bad at first, mostly because you tried to justify it on his behalf. ‘Everyone has secrets.’ was what you’d tell yourself.

And you were right. No matter know long you’ve been together, it seems that Kaeya never truly trusted you. Not once during your entire relationship did he ever confide in you or your help.

And just as everyone has secrets everyone has their limits and you had just hit yours.

It was late at night, almost 2 am yet Kaeya wasn’t home. You guess that he was in the tavern and after going there yourself, you guess right. There Kaeya was, slumped on the bar counter with an empty glass of wine in his hand.

Kaeya’s brother, Diluc, gave you a nod in acknowledgment as you went to your boyfriend’s side. You tapped his shoulder and Kaeya slowly looked up at you. A sly smile on his face when he saw you.

“Darling!” He hiccuped. “What are you doing here?” He asked, his words slurring together. It was a miracle you could still understand him. 

“It’s almost 3 in the morning. I'm here to take you back home.” You said softly, rubbing his back soothingly, trying to persuade him.

“Aww.” He whined. “Don’t wanna go home yet…” He mumbled with a frown and you couldn't help but sigh. “But we have to. You have work tomorrow.” You reminded him. 

Kaeya was staring off into space before you heard him mutter something out. You had to strain your ears but you caught on to what he asked. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?”

Your breathing stilled as you looked at him with an unreadable expression. You answered without thinking of the consequences of your words. “Are we even soulmates in this one?” you whispered, your voice filled with pain and unsureness.

You immediately slapped your hand over your mouth and thankfully it seemed Kaeya didn’t hear it but you felt someone’s eyes bore into you in shock. You turn and see Diluc looking at you flabbergasted.

You turned away, ignoring his gaze before you focused on Kaeya. You slung his arm over your shoulder as you walked out of the tavern. Kaeya didn’t hear your answer but a part of you wish he did.

You're stuck with him for as long as he wants. He’s a red flag but can’t help loving him even if you know in the end you're the only one getting hurt.

- Navigation -   - Prismarine -

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Honkai Star Rail A/B/O: Sounds

Characters: Blade and Jing Yuan

Cw: omegaverse, nsfw

-------

Blade

A rather quiet individual you won't get much sound from him besides the occasional grunt.

Practically never uses his Alpha voice to make others listen to him, he mightve forgotten how to do so that or with his reputation and a broken blade pointed in ones direction he has no need if he can intimidate others so easily.

Rarely purrs but when he does it's not as deep as one might think. It's rather light and quiet more like a hum than an actual purr but it's nice to listen to if one gets the chance.

He doesn't chirp to get attention either he'd rather growl and growls more often than not. His growls depend on his mood, if hes in rut, and if the Mara is grabbing a hold of him.

During ruts he will growl quietly, a low rumble as a warning for his mate to come back into their nest or not to stray to far before he brings them back. Will growl quietly while biting his mate, its rather soothing.

His growls are much louder and more biting if his Mara is flaring up, it's usually one of the key indicators for others that he's not to be messed with and one to avoid during this time.

Jing Yuan

Has chirped once or twice to mess with his partner and capture their attention. He doesn't do it often though usually resting all of his weight on his mate to get their attention. Troublesome.

He'll growl during battle or conflict but he'll also growl sometimes during his rut. They're usually soft growls where he's trying to keep his mates attention on him or to keep them inside the nest. He'll also growl a little when he's really into it While he knots them.

He purrs more often than not regardless if his mood. He'll purr when near his mate, he'll purr when he's getting his head scratched, he'll purr while he's waiting for his knot to deflate inside them and so on. He's just a big ol purring cat.

Has no need to use his Alpha voice as he has worked hard for the authority he currently has and has earned the respect of those around him. He will use it however if someone isn't getting the message and thinks they can take his mate from him.

[draco-dormiens]

FOR ALL THAT IS RIGHT AND JUST - Chp. 1

auror!draco x auror!fem!slytherin reader / post-war au

a/n: sorry about my inconsistent ass. i'm hoping you enjoy this first chapter after i changed it a little, makes better sense for the story to come. sit back and relax cos this is nearly 4000 words bby ♡

warnings: talk of the war, people missing/kidnapping, strong language, mutual pining

wc: 3984

tags: @yeolsbubbles @send-me-styles @shinytalent

tag list open!!

masterlist

Ministry Mayhem

London, 1st May 2007

In the early hours of Tuesday morning, as the sun rose and began to cast it's orangey glow through the gaps in the bedroom curtains, the first ring of an alarm blared a rather unwelcome sound throughout the quietness of the small London flat that you called home. Sleepily, you peel your eyes open to read the time; 6:15am. With a soft grunt, you reach out to slam the snooze button with all the strength you could muster. A typical day, no less, was awaiting you at the Auror office of the British Ministry of Magic, and it was about to wait a little longer, too.

Besides, it wasn't as if anything was in dire need of solving. For the last ten years, the wizarding world had come to know a peace that had long escaped it. The fear and uncertainty that comes with nasty rumours, shadowy figures and the whispers of war was long over now. Harry Potter had fought and won against the most fearsome Dark Wizard in all of history, and now he was keeping the peace as Head of the Auror Office. Although, it wasn't all that exciting nowadays. The more gripping cases ranged from bewitched broomsticks to Oblivating Muggles in the wrong place at the wrong time. It certainly wasn't taking a whole team of Aurors to clear the workload, with most officers getting fidgety and frustrated. It was as if they wanted something to happen; in your eyes, you'd rather be Oblivating an elderly woman who saw a young boy riding a broomstick over London than some raging lunatic.

The clock blares again. Another tap of the snooze button. For a moment, you thought you'd heard knocking at your window. No, you think, I'm just tired. Five more minutes and I'll get up.

It wasn't your first choice, becoming an Auror. During your school years as a young Slytherin, you were certain it was Ancient Runes that you would pursue. That was long before the brewing storm started to reach its boiling point, clouding up any chance you had of finishing school. The prospect of war had reached civilians, and along with it a great fear of the unknown. It was perilous to venture outside of your home; your parents had been cautious to send you back for sixth year. The rumours were terrible. Frightening, even, especially when it was becoming clearer that most of them were true. Even the ones in your own family. A vivid memory of your father arguing in hushed whispers with your uncle one night over Christmas break, had solidified a fear that had been nagging your parents for a long while.

"You can't," your father said, almost spitting the words as you pressed your ear to the door, "don't go to him. Don't give your life away for something so ludicrous."

Your friends began whispering amongst themselves. Troublesome tales of someone you had known your whole life had started circulating around the school. A hard pill to swallow, but one you had to force down eventually.

"My parents said he's right," Pansy had muttered one night in the common room, the glow of the fire just lighting up her face, "I'm starting to think that following him is the better way to go."

"Have you seen Draco lately? He looks dreadful. His attitude is somehow worse." Daphne whispered, and then gulped, "you don't think... surely not, right? He's only our age."

"Dunno, heard his father was a follower during the first war," Blaise then added, looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, "I wouldn't hold your breath. I think he's one of them."

You stir in your sleep as if an unpleasant dream had began to plague your slumber. The clock blares its final warning, and with it, a series of sharp, jarring taps at your window that only grow in volume the longer you lay there. Groggily, you get up, slamming the alarm clock as you make your way to the impatient visitor. As you pull back the curtain, you see a familiar owl perched on the window sill with a letter secured in its beak. You open the window and gently take it from it's grip, and with a mighty swoosh of its wings, it soars off over the city. Ripping open the letter, you hadn't bothered to notice the wax seal of the Auror office, and begin to read:

Get down to the office as soon as you can. Sending this to everyone. It's serious.

From the handwriting you can tell who the sender is. Though still half asleep, you understand the urgency and begin rushing to get dressed. As you button the last hole on your blouse, readying yourself to enter the Ministry through the Floo network, you hear a knock at your door. Grumbling about who it could be and marching across the living room, you swing it open to be met with your, quite literal, partner in crime.

"Draco." You say simply, a smile ghosting your lips. He beams back, his attire as pristine as if he just walked out of the store. His white hair not an inch out of place, his black suit and white button down completely creaseless, and a glimmering Auror badge on his jacket to top it all off. He flashes a pearly white smile, leaning against the door frame with that same old cocky demeanour. Draco appears in some of your earliest memories as a child, and even now in work, he was a significant part of your everyday life. Growing up as children of wealthy pureblood families, it was a regular practice to mingle with those of your kind. Even though his personality was an acquired taste, despite your differing views and childish bickering, he was still both a thorn in your side and a priceless friend.

Friend. For as long as you can remember.

"Morning, take it you got Potters note?" He said, sauntering in to your apartment like it was his own, "reckon he's being a bit dramatic, don't you? Probably just dropped a biscuit in his brew."

"I doubt he'd send an owl all over London for a biscuit, Draco," you call back, hurrying to get the rest of your things together before leaving, "I think something is genuinely wrong, and I'm a little worried if I'm honest. We haven't had anything major in... well, forever."

"You know, if you'd told me in like, fifth year, that one day I'd be clambering out of bed before seven in the morning for Potter, I'd probably have pitched myself off the highest turret." Draco said dramatically, just after accusing Harry of being equally as ridiculous.

"Stop moaning and get in the fireplace," you said as if it were something normal people say on a regular basis, "we need to get down there and find out what's happening."

Draco, still mumbling, clambers into your fireplace and waits for you to squeeze in next to him. Much smaller than his own, he's bent doubly to get in, and ushers you to get the Floo powder before his back gives in. His moaning is only met with a rather stern look from yourself. You take a handful of Floo powder from the little bag sitting on the hearth, and take Draco's hand in yours. With a chant, you fling the powder down at your feet, and with a puff of green smoke, you both disappear, leaving the small flat empty and silent.

In the blink of an eye, you're no longer standing in your living room, but instead in the shiny, emerald tiled entrance to the Ministry. Draco dusts himself down, tutting at the slight specs of soot on his jacket, not noticing how you've become stiff with shock.

"Bloody Floo network," he mumbles to himself, coming to stand beside you, "how are you spotless? It's always me that gets-"

He stops his rambling when his eyes follow your line of vision to see the hoard of people just up ahead, swarming the foyer like ants, an incoherent jumble of noises filling the air from cries to shouts. All extremely well dressed and rather wealthy looking, you both got the impression that these people were not average witches and wizards: they were, in fact, much like yourselves - from old, pureblood money.

"What in Merlin's name is all of this?" You mutter, mostly to yourself, as your feet start to carry you towards the mess, Draco following behind. In the midst of all the chaos, is Delphina Sallow, the lady that usually operates the front desk of the Auror office. Delphina was a tall, slender woman with very dark hair and pale blue eyes, which were a striking contrast to her rather ghostly complexion. A nervous sort of woman, she was struggling immensely in a heated conversation with a man you recognised as Mr Selwyn, whose son was in your year at Hogwarts. Much larger than back then, with his pointer finger jabbing the air furiously, he seems to be, at best, enraged.

"This is a travesty, young lady!" He bellows at Delphina, who has resorted to using her clipboard for protection against the wave of saliva, "my son has been taken, taken I tell you, right from under our noses! Sleeping soundly he was; I can see him sitting there during third supper, not a care in the world, enjoying his fourth lamb chop like the innocent boy he is. I demand justice, young lady, or so help me I'll sue the entire Auror office for all it's bloody well worth."

"P-please, sir, I'm only the receptionist, I-I don't have any authority to help you-"

"No authority?" Mr Selwyn shouts with such force, his large moustache almost flies off of his round, purple face, "I do not care for your position, young lady, get me someone who can find my son or I'll be in the right mind to get you fired. I know people in high places, you know!"

"Excuse me," you interrupt as you reach them, Delphina's face washing over with absolute relief, "can I ask what's going on here? Miss Sallow is not an officer, sir. If you have concerns, please take them up with someone clearly wearing a badge."

You point abruptly to the shining Auror badge on your jacket. Mr Selwyn scoffs irritably.

"Well, miss badge, I demand you find my son. At once." He rounds on you, his large, bulbous belly almost touching you before he can get any closer. Draco appears almost instantly, standing just in front of you, the most condescending smile curling at his lips, trying and failing to hide the clear desire to swing a fist into Mr Selwyns beetroot coloured face.

"If you get any closer, sir, I may have to resort to unsavoury means. All in the name of law, you understand." Draco stood completely straight, towering over the stumpy Mr Selwyn, to which the angered man grunted something under his breath before waddling off to his next victim.

"Thank you," Delphina sighs, dabbing the sweat on her forehead with a handkerchief, "he's not the only one I've dealt with this morning. So many reports of missing persons, all within the last few hours or so. I-it's my day off, I'm only here on Mr Potter's orders."

"As are we, Miss Sallow," Draco smiles at Delphina, to which she blushes furiously, "I think you should head back up. Tell Potter we're here, would you?"

As if the Minister himself had instructed her, she scurries off to the lifts.

"Honestly, you could tell Del to jump off a cliff." You scoff lightheartedly, turning back to see a rather smug looking Draco, as he simply fixes his tie and winks down at you.

"It's the charm, darling. Don't say it doesn't affect you, too."

Before he can bask in your flustered reaction, off in the distance, amongst more distraught civilians, you spot Cerberus Langarm, fellow Auror, rushing through the crowds of people with a look of pure determination on his face. You tug on Draco's arm, inciting him to follow you, as you battle through to chase Cerberus. Amid the madness, you hear a mixture of complaints and angry voices from the hoard of people. As you close in on Cerberus, you call out to him, causing him to halt and turn at the sound of your voice.

"I take it you both got letters, then?" Cerberus says as you reach him, "didn't know what we'd be walking into, but this is something else. Somehow, I don't think it's about a bewitched broomstick this time."

Cerberus Langarm was a tall, well built man with sun-kissed, olive skin and dark, shaved hair. He kept a very neatly trimmed moustache, and under his left eye was a deep scar that covered most of his cheek. He was a man dedicated to his duty, and other aspects of his life came second to it, which Draco often made a joke about. Cerberus was a well accomplished man of the law, and highly respected amongst his fellow officers and higher ups.

Sometimes, you wondered if Draco was a little jealous of Cerberus and his undeniable ability to walk into a room and make it sing for him.

"Delphina said something about missing person reports," you being to explain as the three of you make for the lifts, "and I have noticed something; most of these people, they look like a certain group of wizards. Don't you think?"

"You mean rich, pompous purebloods who have nothing better to do than flash their money and complain about Muggles?" Cerberus said, "yeah, they seem the sort. All I know is that Potter better have an explanation for all of this."

The lifts were especially busy; people were squashed like sardines in a can, garnering irritable tuts and mumblings amongst the staff trying to reach their destinations. The three of you manage to squeeze into a lift heading for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; whispers of the going's on in the foyer filled the usually awkward silence, as the relatively short journey felt like an eternity.

Once the lift had landed at the correct floor, the three of you took no time in squeezing out of the overflowing space and into the open air. For what felt like a moment of relief, was soon overtaken by the mayhem that you were presented with. The department was practically torn apart; papers everywhere, frantic officers pacing back and forth between rooms, folded notes in the shape of paper airplanes zoomed up and down the hallway, narrowly missing your head when one bolted for the lift doors, making it just in time before they slammed shut.

"Salazar's mother," Cerberus muttered, looking back at yourself and Draco whose eyes were transfixed by the sight, "we better find Potter."

Meanwhile, inside Harry's office, stood Harry and Auror Penelope Fawley, assessing the multitude of reports from that morning. They could hear the muffled sound of panic outside, the office workers were working relentlessly to try and get some sort of order in the place. Piles of letters sat upon Harry's desk, as the two of them read aloud the contents of the reports.

"During the night we heard strange ongoings in the neighbours backyard, sounds of magic and a man's voice," says Penelope outloud, "my husband got out of bed and lit up the room with his wand, before trekking down the stairs to peer out of the kitchen window. He thinks he saw two people appartating from the neighbours garden, but his eyesight is not what it used to be. Then, at around 5:30am, we received a knock on the door. It was Mrs Selwyn. Her son was missing."

Penelope, a fair-haired, pretty woman with dark blue eyes and black rimmed glasses, ran her perfectly manicured finger across the parchment as she read. Harry, now pacing up and down the office with his chin in his hand, listened carefully to what Penelope was reading aloud. She places down the parchment and picks up another letter, tearing it open and unfolding the note inside. Penelope clears her throat and begins reading once more:

"I received an owl from my sister a few days ago. She was worried that someone had been outside her house during the night, but couldn't seem to undo the Colloportus charm her husband casts on all the doors when he works nights. She has young children, and they live in a relatively secluded place." Penelope read, and then perched against the desk, "I owled back immediately, but didn't seem to receive a reply. Then around 6:00am this morning, her husband, Blaise Zabini, showed up at our door. My sister, Daphne Zabini, was missing from her bed when he returned home from work. The children were still sound asleep and seemingly untouched."

Harry comes to a halt at the window overlooking Muggle London below. With a great sigh, he rubs his tired eyes that had been awake since the early hours of the morning. As he turns to speak to Penelope, they both hear heavy, hurried footsteps beyond the door, and within a few seconds, you burst in, all guns blazing, Cerberus and Draco in hot pursuit.

"I do hope you have an explantation, Harry," you pant slightly, "what on earth is happening? Missing witches and wizards - and what was Delphina doing in foyer; she was getting practically spat at by Mr Selwyn, and not to mention the hoard of people downstairs, and the office-"

"Thank you, officer Y/L/N, I'm well aware of the situation both outside my door and in the foyer. In fact, I've been well aware of it since three this morning, so, if you’d be so kind as to ask one question at a time, I'd really appreciate it." said Harry, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Draco stifles a laugh behind you.

"Potter," Cerberus advances forward with urgency, "any kind of light you can shed."

Harry composes himself, and then walks over to his desk, pushing forward what looked like a collection of personal files from the Ministry of Magic Archives; somewhere that a person would need all kinds of permissions to enter. It contained many records - such as historical records, every single published issue of The Daily Prophet, various magical projects and, most importantly, personal files of every witch or wizard that comes into magic across the country.  Draco, his interest now peaked, gently brushes past you with a hand at the small of your back, his eyebrows knitted together in a very curious expression. He begins shuffling through them, his features relaxing into more concern than curiosity when he realises each and every one of them have a big, red stamp across the front that read: Missing.

"These," he breathes, looking up at Harry, who's expression was more exhaustion than anything else, "these are all purebloods... I know half of 'em. Nott, for one. Scrawny devil."

"They all look the sort in the foyer, too," adds Cerberus, "lots of old money and questionable bloodlines down there. Odd coincidence?"

"Not likely," pipes up Penelope, who lifts herself elegantly off the edge of the desk, "every single one of these witches and wizards have gone missing during the last few hours. All of them, and without a single trace. No signs of break ins, no signs of struggle or injury at the locations they went missing from. It's a fair assumption to say they have been kidnapped - and not by some amature."

"So you're saying that a whole bunch of wizards from pure bloodlines have just miraculously been taken from their beds in the night. For what reason, exactly?" Draco raises an eyebrow at Penelope. She doesn't look too impressed by his questioning of her theory.

"Malfoy," Harry said, not with his usual air of authority, however, it was far more pleading, "Penelope has a point. Let me give the bigger picture," Harry slumps down onto his office chair with a heaving sigh, before tucking himself under the desk and resting his elbows on the surface, hands intertwined, "I was called in by the Minister at three o'clock this morning. That's when the first report came in about a missing person. Not long after that, they started coming in troves. One after the other, we couldn't keep up. Hence why I owled," he took a pause, "Penelope was first here, and with her help, we retrieved the personal reports to further investigate the missing persons. We made the connection of their blood status quite quick, and have since then been trying to theorise as to why it only seems to be witches and wizards of a certain blood status."

"I'd say that was quite obvious," said Cerberus, who was a rather serious and right-to-the-point kind of officer, "someone out there has a grudge against them, surprisingly," he said with an air of sarcasm, "but it can't just be one person that has done all of this; there must be some sort of group or organisation. No one, even with magic, can be in all of those places at once."

Penelope suddenly gasped, and everyone looked around at her.

"What about Hogwarts? They need informing immediately. The amount of students, and faculty, that could be in danger tomorrow," she said with the utmost seriousness, "I can go, Harry. I can fly to Hogsmeade, they won't know a thing unless-"

"Thank you, Penelope, but I have already considered Hogwarts," Harry cut her off gently, and her shoulders slumped in relief, "in fact, I need to speak to Y/L/N and Malfoy. Langarm and Fawely - you go down into the foyer and tell the public to go home and rest. There's nothing more we can do right now without some more information."

The other two left, leaving Harry, Draco and yourself alone in his messy office. Once the door had been shut softly, he ushers you both to take a seat in front of him. You both do so, as Harry relaxes a little in his plush office chair, relishing of the quietness for a moment. 

"As you may already be aware, it's the tenth year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts tomorrow and a memorial service is being held at the school," Harry begins to explain, "myself and Ron were invited by McGonagall as guests to represent the Ministry, and well, for other obvious reasons," he waves a dismissive hand, "however, with all this, I think it best we stay here. I'd much rather be there to support McGonagall, but I feel it's necessary that I'm accessible. So, instead, I'm sending you too to keep watch."

"Me?" Draco exclaims. Harry raises his eyebrows at the sudden outburst, "I hardly doubt they'd want me there, Potter. Can you imagine their faces?"

"I'm not sending you as guests, Malfoy," Harry reiterates, "I'm sending you as Ministry officials. You won't need to do anything drastic. I just want you to keep an eye on things. I'll send other officers too, as we might need to change protocol slightly to ease McGonagall's mind. Merlin knows she'll panic when she receives the owl I'm going to send."

"You can count on us, Harry." You say with utter confidence, "If anything happens, I'll inform you immediately. My owl is rather good at finding me in a tight situation."

"Thank you," he smiles kindly, Draco now completely silent, "now, you'll need to take the train to Hogwarts with the guests of the ceremony. I'd feel much better if you were on that train. I can't have eyes everywhere, so be my eyes. Got it?"

With a very sure nod, you rise from your seat, pulling an extremely quiet Draco up with you by the arm. You could tell he was bothered about returning to the school, even after all this time, but you had every bit of confidence in him. Even if he had none in himself.

disclaimer: i do not own harry potter or any of the characters or storyline associated with it.

[seravphs]

beating hearts promised to bared teeth — part one: “The God Finds A Familiar” 

KITSUNE! GOJO x GOD! FEM READER; KAMISAMA HAJIMEMASHITA AU

When a kind stranger offers you his home because your gambling addict of a father can’t pay rent, you’re left in charge of a shrine - with a catch. Once you arrive at your new home, you learn a crucial fact that he conveniently left out. You’re the new god in charge, and his familiar, who now belongs to you, does not like you. What’s a new god to do, especially when she finds herself slowly falling for the fox spirit?

wc — 10k

tags — enemies to lovers, shoujo manga heroine type reader, Japanese mythology/yokai, age gap (1000 year old fox and high school girl), slowburn, cameo from Sukuna, Toji, and Nanami, cameo from original Kamisama Hajimemashita cast

part two — “The God Finds A Husband” (coming soon)

shoujo series masterlist

If your stomach growls any louder, you’ll scare off the squirrels fighting over the end of a baguette loaf by the park bench you’re sitting on. 

You’re currently in the middle of what others might describe as very hard times. To be honest, your very hard times have been going on for a while now - they just culminated at this specific moment. Regardless, these days are only temporary. You’ve promised yourself that one day, you’ll be able to smile from the bottom of your heart. 

It’s just that it was easier said than done when you weren’t homeless. Your father has never been the most reliable of men. You had to take over the household finances by the time you were eight, so you’ve always been accustomed to his lack of responsibility, but today really solidified his status in your mind as an absolutely useless, no good man. It’s unfathomable cruelty to have left his only daughter with no money, no relatives, and no home. 

You don’t want to call it cruel. For all of his faults, you still love your father. And it’s because you love him that you know this wasn’t a cruel act. Cruelty is intentional. It’s malicious. It comes from a desire to hurt. Your father has never wanted to hurt you. It’s just a byproduct of his gambling addiction. You’re collateral damage in his quest for the jackpot that would solve all his problems. 

You double over in agony at the renewed complaints from your stomach. At least you’ve gone from scaring mere squirrels to scaring passersby. That’s an upgrade, right? 

One woman clutches her purse closer as she walks past you as briskly as possible. You get it, you look bad. 

But there’s no use being resentful. Your father has been barely one step above a deadbeat all your life. At the very least, you’re used to fending for yourself. Your stomach growls again, but you’re determined to ignore it. You need a plan of action. One step after another, you’ll make it out of these troublesome times. 

Before you can start to plot, a loud cry for help catches your attention. It sounds like someone else is in even more dire straits than you are, which is saying a lot. 

The squirrels have long since scattered, run off not by the scary noises coming from your famished stomach, but a pack of dogs. Somehow, a man has climbed several feet into the tree next to the trash can, and now perched precariously in its branches. Below him, curious dogs tilt their heads and give cautious barks. 

“Aw, hello there, cuties,” you coo, rubbing behind their ears. They yip at you enthusiastically. One sets to chasing his own tail around the tree. They seem friendly enough, but you suppose one can’t help their phobias. A little regretfully, you chase them off. 

“Go on now,” you tell the last one, leading him away. He whines, but does as you say. What a good boy. 

“Thank you,” says the stranger stranded in the tree. He slides down the trunk, face slowly regaining color. “I owe you my life.” 

“It was nothing!” You smile, but he won’t let you brush off your good deed. 

“You’re a good kid,” he nods approvingly. “Gotta reward that. Is there anything you want?” 

A home. 

Not just the house you shared with your father, but somewhere warm to return to. A person who waits to see you safely inside the threshold. 

But you know a stranger can’t give you that, so you shake your head and smile. “Really, it was nothing. You don’t owe me anything.” 

As if he had heard your inner monologue, the stranger raises an eyebrow. “A home, hm? I might be able to help with that.” 

Before you can react, he leans in and kisses your forehead. Where his lips touched your skin feels faintly warm and tingly, almost like the sensation of your leg going numb, before you recoil from him in shock. 

He presses a map into your hand and tells you, “Go to this address. Tell them Yaga sent you, and you’ll be welcomed with open arms.” 

With that, he runs off. 

What a strange man. 

Well, you’ve had a strange life, taking care of your hopeless father and all. Perhaps these things really did happen. It wasn’t so impossible for strangers to appear out of nowhere and reward you for good deeds. Maybe all the fairytales your father had read to you back when he hadn’t been so terrible were true. 

Or maybe that was the wishful thinking of an optimistically delusional girl who needed somewhere to stay desperately.

The address is located on the outskirts of town. Pushing deeper into foliage and closer to forest than civilization, you find the location you had been sent to. 

It’s a shrine. 

A run-down shrine, of all places. 

Are you on a comedy show? Should you start checking for cameras? 

Against your will, you feel your eyes grow hot. That was a cruel trick to play. He had gotten your hopes up for nothing. 

It’s not just your eyes. Your entire body starts to feel warm. The world around you erupts into blue flame. Heat licks at your shins as you scramble towards safety, closer to the center of the circle that has formed around you. 

When the flames suddenly leap, as if they’ll consume the entire sky, you scream and drop to your knees, covering your head like it’s a bomb threat. Two childish voices ring in your head, as clear and crisp as bells. 

Welcome home, Yaga-sama. 

It’s a shrine. There’s only one logical conclusion. 

This is a haunting. 

There’s only one safe path out of the ring of fire, and it’s towards the building you’ve now concluded is the site of paranormal activity. Between being actively burned alive or facing spirits though, you know which one you’ll choose. 

Your frantic fingers fumble over the latch on the shrine’s red doors as the fire inches closer and closer until you can feel its heat on your back. Finally, you throw open the doors and all but launch yourself inside. The heat recedes, but the voices do not. 

“Back already, Yaga?” A male voice drawls. “I thought your pilgrimage would’ve taken longer. After leaving me to maintain the shrine by myself for sixty years -“

You shriek as an enormous, clawed hand comes down towards your face. Your eyes squeeze shut, waiting for the end. 

“I’m not Yaga,” you wail, hoping it will save you. 

“You have a lot of nerve?” The voice finishes, more uncertainly than before. When you deem it safe to open your eyes once more, what stands before is a young man dressed in all white. White hair and blue eyes make for a staring constraint, but his coloring isn’t what’s strange about him. 

It’s his clawed hands and the equally white fox tail behind him. 

“Megumi, Tsumiki,” he says authoritatively. “This isn’t Yaga.” 

A shining ball of fire comes forward, speaking in the little girl’s voice you heard earlier. “That can’t be right! Look, she has the mark of the god on her forehead.” 

You touch your forehead, remembering the warm tingly sensation you had felt when that man kissed you. Feeling slightly delirious, you start to laugh, only to grow alarmed when you find you can’t stop. You’re growing out of breath from your near hysterical laughing, tears streaming out of the corners of your eyes. 

“Oh, great,” says the fox spirit. “She’s crazy.” 

“She’s the one with the mark,” the other ball of fire, Megumi, says. “That means she’s the god whether you like it or not, Gojo.” 

Tsumiki darts over to you, but halfway through her journey, she goes from fire to a little child just under 2 feet tall. She’s wearing a mask and plain blue yukata. 

“We have to celebrate!” She claps her hands together in excitement. “Our god has finally returned!”

Gojo looks dismissively down on you. Your laughing fit is finally starting to die down, but he doesn’t seem impressed regardless. “What god? I won’t accept a little human girl as my master. She couldn’t handle the strength of a familiar like me.”  

His condescension only makes you giggle harder. You can’t help it. Something about the fluffy fox ears protruding out of his head makes it hard to take him seriously. 

“What strength?” You laugh in his face. “This shrine is so dilapidated, I doubt you’re anything special.” 

Gojo looks away. “If she stays, I’m leaving. I won’t serve this kind of pathetic god.”

He disappears in a cloud of white smoke before Tsumiki can finish saying, “Don’t be like that!”

The will-o-wisp children introduce themselves to you as shrine spirits who look after the building. It takes a while, but by the time they kindly show you to the room where you’ll be staying, you can distinguish Tsumiki from Megumi by the differences in the masks they never take off. 

Your room is simple and threadbare. The walls are paneled bamboo and the only furnishing is an old futon. Still, you’re grateful. It’s leagues better than sleeping in the woods, which is what you started this day fearing you would have to resort to. You’ve never been the type to complain, and you won’t start now, no matter how strange your life has gotten. 

Fox spirits and will-o-wisp children don’t exist. They’re the stuff of myths. Maybe you’re just seeing things because you’re tired, you muse as you drift off to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning after a nice, long rest. The events of today will feel so far away, and you’ll be able to start over. 

Or maybe you’re dead already, and you’re wandering in the Netherworld. Perhaps the reason you can see spirits is because you’re currently residing in their land. Your entire body seizes up as you jolt yourself back to wakefulness. 

“Kamisama,” Tsumiki has crept back into your room. “Are you alright?” 

You tell her to call you by her name. Calling you god just doesn’t feel right. 

Gently, she nestles down by your pillow and puts her cold little hands on your forehead. Rather than shocking to your senses, it feels pleasant. When you were a little girl and got sick, your father used to let you stay home from school. He’d pack a towel with ice cubes and place it on your overheated forehead, staying up with you all night just to chat. It’s a good memory. 

“It’ll be alright,” Tsumiki tells you in her gentle voice. “You’ll see.” 

For spirits that supposedly take care of the shrine, you have a suspicion that Tsumiki and Megumi are pushing their work onto you when they brief you on your chores the next morning. It turns out godhood is a lot less summoning storms and a lot more doing yard work. 

Tsumiki insists that keeping the shrine pure is important for keeping evil spirits away. For some reason, that means cleaning. When you ask about calling lightning or summoning lions, Megumi laughs at you. 

“That’s Getou-sama’s job,” he says. “Your specialty is marriage. Yaga was very good at tying peoples’ fates together. You will be, too.”

He has more faith than you do in that regard. When it comes to chores, however, you’re more certain of your abilities. Busy work keeps the absurdity of your situation from sinking in, and you’re good at running the household from years of dealing with your father. You’re grateful for something to do. If you think about the past day too hard, you might break down into shocked laughter and never get back up. 

Besides, even if you don’t feel particularly ready to be a god, Tsumiki and Megumi are letting you stay in the shrine. You have to earn your keep. Soon, you settle into the process of cleaning, letting the methodical, rhythmic nature of your movements erase any doubts in your mind. You think of nothing but the cooling sensation of the water when you dip your rag into the bucket and the clean, woody scent of the shrine as you scrub the wood. 

“Ooh,” Tsumiki says approvingly when she appears. “It looks better already! Can you do the lawn next?” 

Plucking weeds is notably less soothing than cleaning. With no gloves, you’re careful to avoid hurting yourself as you tug on spiky vines and knotted twigs, but it’s no use. Eventually, you lose focus and a sharp sting graces your finger. Blood drips down your hand. You hiss in pain. 

A hand with white claws instead of nails grabs your wrist. You yelp in shock as Gojo brings your finger to his mouth and laps at the blood. It stains his lips slightly red. He worries at the cut with his tongue, making your wound ache. You try to pull back, but he holds on. 

To your amazement, the cut closes before your eyes. You’re just about to thank him when he ruins the moment. 

“You really are useless,” he says. “You can’t even pluck grass?”

You yank your hand out of his grip as hard as you can, sending yourself tumbling back against the grass. You hate how it must make yourself seem even more human in his eyes, a weak, fragile thing. 

“Give up,” he says, and it’s almost gentle, the way his claws graze your chin as he holds your face in one hand. “You’re not suited to be a god.” 

You turn away, unwilling to let him see any more of your vulnerability. “You don’t know anything about me.” 

“Suit yourself,” he says with a noise of annoyance. “Brats who run away from home aren’t my problem.” 

“I didn’t run away!” You snap, whirling on him. “My dad was the one who ran! I don’t have anywhere else to go!” 

But he’s gone.

At least Megumi and Tsumiki are nice to you. Megumi takes the bucket of weeds you deposit at the front door and whisks it somewhere out of your sight, while Tsumiki prepares a nice, hot bath for you. Exhausted, you collapse onto the bamboo floor spread eagle. 

God, a voice murmurs in your head.

Not again. You don’t want any more spirits to deal with. When you raise your head, instead of another yokai, there’s an old woman standing in front of the shrine. Her head is bowed and her hands are clasped in prayer. 

Please bless my daughter’s marriage so that she will enjoy a long and fruitful life with her partner. 

Her voice is coming from some place inside your head. It resonates like a bell, ringing crisp and clear. You stretch out your hands wonderingly. You don’t look any different. 

“You see?” Tsumiki says approvingly. “You’re a god.”’ 

But you don’t feel like one. You feel just like a normal person. 

“A god needs a familiar.” You can’t see Megumi’s face behind his mask as he speaks, but you can imagine the solemn little boy he must be. “You need to bind Gojo to you.”

“How do I do that?” 

“You have to kiss him.” 

You wait for them to tell you they’re joking. 

“What? I can’t kiss him! Is there-” 

Megumi cuts in. “It’s just the traditional way to seal the contract. Don’t think too much of it.” 

The fact that neither of them are bothered makes you feel like the ridiculous one for being off put by this, but you’re sure you’re not. Still, if you’re a god now, you have to put all of your mortal sensibilities aside. It’s like another culture, you tell yourself. Like how Europeans kiss each other on the cheek to say hello. Even if you can’t convince yourself, Megumi and Tsumiki are insistent. 

You were so fired up just a second ago, but now your head is filled with doubts. If such a simple matter can sway you, are you really meant to be a god after all? Maybe Gojo is right. Maybe you should just leave. 

“Please,” Tsumiki says. She looks distraught. “Don’t abandon us. Please don’t leave.” 

Megumi doesn’t say anything, but his silence is enough. 

“Okay,” you say, feeling defeated. “I’ll give it a shot.” 

You’ve always been good at chores. If taming Gojo is just another part of your new job, it sounds like it's time to get serious. 

“Take me to him.” 

Megumi and Tsumiki balk. 

“Right now?”

“Why not? The sooner I get it over with, the better, right?”

“He’s...indisposed at the moment,” Tsumiki says carefully. 

“Indisposed? Is he sick?” 

“Not quite,” Megumi says. He’s very expressive for a spirit. You can practically imagine him grimacing. 

“Then it’s fine!” 

You would soon come to regret your words. 

Megumi and Tsumiki lead you out of the shrine. They show you where to find the path that can lead you to the land of spirits and demons. Your entire body rebels at the feeling of being in this other world, but at the same time, you feel at home here. The god and the girl that coexist inside of you are mutually repelled by and attracted to this place. 

Even though you know Megumi and Tsumiki aren’t really children, or at least children in the way mortals think of them, you’re still concerned about letting them traipse around this dangerous place. However, they seem more used to this world than you are. That energy is better devoted to fending for yourself. 

They lead you under bridges where the running water smells like flowers and women’s voices hiss in the babble of the current. Tree leaves rustle with hands that disappear into darkness. You follow them through dark alleyways lined with red paper blessings, and doorsteps encircled with salt. Eyes follow you, leaving your skin crawling. 

You’re so focused on keeping your head down and staying out of danger that you almost don’t notice when they stop. You nearly run Megumi over. 

“He’s inside here,” Tsumiki says. 

Is it just you, or does she seem nervous? 

The lanterns inside this establishment are turned down to a dimness that barely illuminates the corridors. Sweet smelling smoke writhes around your feet from some unknown source as you head deeper and deeper into the maze of hallways, following the pair of shrine spirits. You pass women wearing fox masks, dressed in luxurious kimonos. Their hair towers over their head in elaborate updos, held in place with beautiful pins inlaid with chartreuse and gold. 

Megumi stops before a folding screen door. Like all things within this building, it’s beautiful. The silk screen is painted with images of flowers and more gruesome scenes as well, but somehow, it’s still breath-taking. A little like Gojo, in that regard. 

You hear the voices of women behind the screen, flattering Gojo. The light of a single candle illuminates the dim room, imprinting his silhouette against it, as well as that of the two women with him. They’re draped over him, hands roaming his body as they purr their compliments. Your face burns with embarrassment. 

“What are you doing?” Megumi demands of Gojo. “How can you parade around the red-light district like this? You’re the familiar of a god, not some common demon! If Yaga knew, it’d break his poor heart.” 

Behind the screen, Gojo merely brushes him off. “Yaga’s been replaced by some little human worm. Why should I care what he thinks now?”

“What about the shrine? Don’t you care about that, at least?” Tsumiki's voice is thick with reproach. 

“Now that you mention it, I don’t think I do,” he says. “Ha! You know what? Maybe I should thank that girl. Now that I’m free, I can do whatever I want.” 

“Gojo-“ 

“I’ll can indulge in every little vice Yaga never allowed me to touch before. Who would want to be a familiar when I can have all of this?” 

“Gojo, our god is here.” 

“What?” 

He leaps up and pushes the screen aside, coming face to face with you. He looks startled to see you, though you don’t see why he should care, since he so desires to lead a life of sin. 

You look upon him with disgust. You might want a familiar, but you’re not so desperate you’d stoop as low as this. Gojo cares so little for anyone but himself. If you’re going to be a god, you’re going to do it right. You’ll pick a good familiar, one who will genuinely love the shrine as much as it deserves. 

You turn and leave as he, half-clothed, frantically starts pulling on the outer layers of his kimono. 

“Wait,” he calls after you. “Tsumiki! Megumi! Why would you bring her here?”

“She wanted to see you,” Megumi retorts. 

“This isn’t the place for a human,” he says. “She’s going to get eaten!” 

The faster Gojo follows you, the faster you run from him. By the time you’re out of what you’ve come to realize is a brothel, you’re sprinting. Your legs carry you right into someone else as your face slams against a broad, muscled chest. 

“Oh,” says a voice above your head. “How pretty.” 

A hand caresses your face. This spirit has tattoo marks across his face and body. More interestingly, he has multiple arms. 

You’re frozen in place by fear as he brings his mouth closer and closer to your face. He’s close enough to kiss, but this is a spirit, which means he’s more likely to eat you. 

“Be good for me now,” he purrs in your ear. “Fear makes flesh all the sweeter.” 

Three of his six arms are consumed by fire. He pushes you away from him in favor of batting out the flame. 

Gojo pulls you towards him, hiding you in the folds of his billowing kimono. You press your face against his shoulder, swallowing back the tears of fear from nearly being eaten. Somehow, he feels safe, even though he’s been nothing but antagonistic towards you. He feels almost protective as he shields your body with his, securing you under one arm. 

“Scram,” he tells the other demon. “She’s mine, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna rolls his pairs of eyes. “You weren’t with her when I caught her. She’s fair game.” 

Fox fire flickers in Gojo’s hand. His white talons seem to elongate before your eyes. 

“If you want to fight over her, then by all means,” he says with a dangerous smile. “But we both know I’d win.” 

“Maybe later then,” Sukuna says, lazily as if Gojo isn’t threatening him. “Once I’ve eaten my fill.” 

He stalks off into the night in search of more prey. 

“This is why I told you to wait,” Gojo says, running his hand over his face. “You’re practically bait in this world. Come on, I’ll take you home.” 

You nod, not trusting your voice, but he catches on anyways. 

“Don’t cry,” he says, his face twisted in a grimace. “I won’t know what to do if you cry. Look, this is just your life now, okay? You’ll have to get used to it.” 

On impulse, you press your face into his shoulder again, still sniffling. You want to be comforted, even though you know he won’t give it to you. 

“Ugh,” he says, true to form. “Quit that.” 

By the time you’ve calmed down, Gojo has already escorted you back to the shrine. 

“Don’t come back,” he tells you. 

Of course, you can’t listen to him. On your second night in the land of the dead and monsters, not only do you have to hide from beasts who would devour you the moment they found out what you were, you also have to hide from Gojo. You’re wearing a disguise, courtesy of Tsumiki and Megumi. 

In your defense, it’s not like you want to be here. You need a familiar, and it’s clearly not going to be Gojo. 

According to Tsumiki, Gojo’s the strongest, but there are other familiars who would be willing to serve you. They’re all in the Netherworld, however, and you have to find them before you can contract them. 

You pull the curtain of the hat shielding your face a little closer around you as you peer at the faces surrounding you, trying to gauge who looks friendly. None of them do. You’ve been wandering around for hours, but not a single spirit has stood out to you. 

In the end, you don’t find him. He finds you. 

“A human god?” A hand grasps your wrist loosely. “That’s rare. Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be here?” 

The man in front of you looks normal by any standards - but you know better than to trust your gut in the netherworld. Still, he’s the closest thing to a human you’ve seen in a while. Surrounded by a maelstrom of monsters, he feels like the eye of the storm. There’s a quiet and a calm surrounding him, even as you walk among noderabo with withered, leathery skin and scaly yajo. 

It’s not like he’s in his own little pocket of the world, you realize. He is. Everyone is purposefully giving him a wide berth. 

“Who are you?”  

“I asked first,” he says. 

“You know who I am! You just said so - I’m the human god.” 

His eyes rake over you. “So you are. But what are you doing here, girl?” 

You throw his words back in his face obstinately. “You first.”

“I’m Toji.” That doesn’t tell you anything, but he’s clearly unwilling to divulge more. “Your turn.”

“I’m looking for a familiar.” 

“What about your familiar? I heard that Gojo-sama isn’t keen on sharing.” 

Somehow, the way he says Gojo-sama sounds derisive, even with the respectful honorific. 

“He doesn’t want to be my familiar.” 

The rejection stings coming out of your own mouth. 

“Sounds like him. Haughty bastard, he couldn’t stand to serve a human girl, could he?” 

“Yeah! He’s an asshole,” you say, feeling validated. 

When Toji laughs, the scar over his lip tugs one side of his mouth down. You kind of like it. And he must be strong, just looking at him. He’s well muscled and covered in scars. Of course, there’s the little matter of the reverence everyone around you is offering him. Tsumiki and Megumi had told you to just go out and find one. Could it be that easy?

“Are you interested?” 

He gives you a look of barely concealed amusement. “You’re funny, girl. I don’t think Gojo would like that very much, though.” 

“I don’t care what Gojo thinks.” 

“Oh, here he comes now. Don’t go running too far - you’ll worry him,” he says, slow and easy. His confidence is absurd - it reminds you of Gojo, actually. He must be strong. “If you’re really serious about wanting me as a familiar, why don’t you meet me here again in three days?”

“What are you doing?” Gojo snarls at you. His teeth match the rest of his fox physique. With wonder, you realize that his pearly canines are pointed beyond what’s normal. “I told you not to come back!” 

“But- He-” You turn around to point Toji out, but he’s gone. 

“Who?” Gojo says. 

“He was right there!” 

“You’re so annoying,” Gojo bites out. “I don’t care what happens to you, but if you die, Megumi and Tsumiki will cry, so stop wandering off on your own. You’re lucky you didn’t get devoured on the spot.” 

He’s starting to get really irritating. You shove his hands off. 

“You know it’s actually your fault I’m here, right? If you didn’t reject me, I wouldn’t have to scour the Netherworld for a familiar.” 

Gojo scoffs. “My fault? Maybe you should take a look at yourself. If you were less weak, I wouldn’t have a problem serving you!” 

“That’s- You’re impossible!” You splutter. “I can’t help being weak! I was born this way! Not everyone is so lucky to be born a kitsune, oh-so-great-Gojo-sama.” 

“Enough,” he sighs. Taking you by your wrist, he forcibly drags you through the streets back in the direction you came. 

“Ow! You’re hurting me!” 

“Gojo!” Megumi’s reproving voice breaks the argument up before it can begin again. 

He lets go of you almost guiltily, if you thought he could feel guilt. 

“I’ll take her home,” Megumi says. 

Gojo’s tail lashes behind him angrily, but Megumi doesn’t spare him a second glance as he ushers you away. 

“Thank you,” you tell him in relief. “What are you doing here?” 

“You were taking a long time,” he says. “Tsumiki and I were getting worried. Did you find anyone?” 

You think of Toji. “No,” you say. “No one.” 

The next day, while Megumi and Tsumiki dress you for your trip through the Netherworld again, Megumi presses three slips of white paper into your hands. 

“We should’ve taught you this sooner,” he says. “One of the powers of a god is to transform objects. Whatever you write on this charm will become true - within the scope of your power. Be safe.”  

Armed with your paper slips, you feel like a real god. Tsumiki pushes you out the door with a prayer for good luck, though you’re not sure you can grant prayers to yourself for yourself.

Outside the door, something whines by your feet.

“Gojo?” 

Or is that a regular white fox? 

It snaps its teeth at you. 

Definitely Gojo.

“I don’t need an escort,” you tell him, making shooing motions at him with your hands. “Go away!” 

He rolls over and yips at you, his tail wagging. 

“I can’t understand you like this!” 

“I said,” a cloud of smoke reveals him, mostly humanoid once again, except for his ears and tail. “I don’t want to do this either. It’s for Megumi and Tsumiki.” 

Toji doesn’t seem to like him, so you don’t want to risk bringing him with you. Despite your best attempts to shake him, Gojo follows you as you retrace your steps back into the spirit world. You’re just starting to despair when you spot a bigger reason to be upset. 

“Hello, delicious,” Sukuna says. “Ready for round two?” 

Why does he look even more terrifying? Did he get bigger? 

“Leave her alone,” Gojo says, almost bored. “It’s pathetic. You can only bully things weaker than you, huh?” 

“I’m not afraid to fight you,” Sukuna tells him. 

You’re panicking. They both look serious. You don’t want to be caught between these two forces of nature. 

“You should be,” Gojo says, and steps in front of you. Over his shoulder, he tells you, “Run. You’re in my way.” 

This is the chance you were waiting for. 

Toji’s dressed differently when you find him again. Last night, he was wearing a casual black kimono. Tonight, he’s dressed in a tight fitting black shirt and loose white pants. 

“You look nice,” you tell him, feeling anxious. Your mind keeps going back to Gojo. You’re sure he can hold his own, but you’re still worried for him. As you are, however, you’re of no help to him. The only way you’d be able to rescue him if he actually was in danger is by making a contract with a powerful familiar. 

“It’s for work,” he says. “Follow me.” 

“We can’t do it here?” 

“Do you want to kiss me in front of everyone?” He shrugs and reaches for you. “I mean, I’m down if you are, but I figured-” 

“No,” you squeak and dart away. “Privacy is good!” 

He laughs. “You’re as funny as ever, huh? C’mere.” 

Toji leads you off the beaten path and further into the woods. The only thing that keeps you from feeling more nervous is the moon shining overhead, illuminating your path. It feels almost like a friend is with you.

“Here is good,” Toji says, stopping at a clearing. 

“It’s so pretty,” you breathe out, dazzled. This deep into the woods, fireflies are lighting your way. Beneath your feet, a springy bed of flowers and moss covers the floor. 

“What can I say? I’m a romantic.” 

“Yeah, right,” you laugh at him, but you draw closer. You think you could trust him. You think you could be partners with him. 

Then Toji grabs you by the shoulders and dangles you off the edge of the clearing, over a steep drop you hadn’t noticed. The sharp cut off had been hidden by flowers, danger painted over with beauty. 

“Sorry, kid,” Toji says. “No hard feelings, right?” 

“Why?” You whisper. Gojo had been right. 

“There’s a bounty on your head,” he says. “Getou has offered to grant the wish of anyone who kills you.”

His eyes turn wistful. “I have a kid. Haven’t seen him in years. You understand, right? It’s not personal.” 

The fall is brutal. The wind whips tears into your eyes, if you weren’t already crying from the fear of falling to your death. You have to do something, anything. Above your head, something white flutters. 

A dove? 

Then another. 

It’s one of the paper ofuda Megumi had given you before you left, caught in the updraft of you rushing down to earth. You snatch it out of the air. You can’t reach the pen in your pocket. With increasing desperation, you bite down on your finger hard enough to draw blood and trace the characters for a tree branch onto it. Holding it aloft, you pray. 

Between your hands, wood solidifies. You’re clinging to a scrap of a twig sprouting from the rocky cliffside. Megumi’s words echo in your head - only within the scope of your power. 

So this is it, huh?

That’s all there is of your godly strength. 

“Looks like you’re in trouble,” Gojo says. He has no problem balancing on the sheer cliff. His appearance is impeccable, completely unscathed from his fight with Sukuna. He perches like a bird, as comfortable as if he were standing on solid ground. “Do you need help?”

Thank god. He’s here to save you! You nod, turning teary eyes on him. You were wrong about him. Gojo really is a good guy, deep down. 

“If you say, ‘Please save me, Gojo-sama, I was stupid.’ I’ll help you. Throw in some crying and begging, too.” 

Your eyes dry up instantly. He’s a total bastard. You clutch onto the branch tighter. There’s no way you’ll give him the satisfaction of groveling for help. 

Your resolve weakens when you hear the first snap. 

“Time’s ticking,” Gojo calls in a sing-song voice. “What will it be?” 

The harder you hold on, the more your flimsy branch breaks. 

“Come on,” Gojo says. “It’s not that hard. It’s just seven little words. Isn’t that worth your life?”

“Go fuck yourself,” you tell him, and the branch finally snaps. 

Falling for the second time is just as bad as the first time. The icy wind snatches at you like claws, tearing at your clothes. 

To your surprise, Gojo leaps after you. He makes free-fall look elegant - surely a far cry from whatever you’re doing. 

“Just say it,” he yells, within arm’s reach. He’s so close he could snag you by the shirt and haul you to safety, but you know he won’t. Not without getting what he wants. “Would you rather die than just apologize?” 

You have an answer prepared. 

His eyes widen in shock when you press your palms to his cheek, pull him closer, and kiss him. 

You barely have time to register the taste of him, sake and something sweet, before the reality of falling to your death rushes in again. 

“Gojo, save me!” 

As if his body is piloted by someone else, Gojo catches you. For him, it’s a short leap back up to the top of the clearing, where Toji has disappeared. 

You climb down from his hold once you’re certain you’re safe. You never thought you’d miss the feeling of solid ground beneath your feet this much, but at the moment, you’re willing to kiss the earth. 

Gojo seems much worse off. He’s frozen in shock, muttering the same refrain to himself under his breath. “Me? Bound to her? Impossible.” 

“Let’s go home,” you tell him. He doesn’t seem to get it until you tug him towards the path, and then he leads the way wordlessly. . 

You wake to Megumi and Tsumiki weeping over you. 

“I’m alright!”

They freeze, then burst into fresh tears. 

“We thought you would never wake up! Your first time using ofuda must have been too much for you,” Megumi gets out through his sobs. 

You feel sore all over. You can barely recall the events of the previous night, only that you kissed- 

“Finally up?” 

Gojo’s tapping his foot as he waits for you to get up. He looks furious. There’s an unmistakeable tick in his jaw that spells trouble for you. 

It’s too early to deal with him. You duck back under the covers. 

“Oh no you don’t,” he growls out as he seizes your wrist and bodily hauls you out of your warm cocoon of blankets. “You wanted to be a god, you’re going to be a god. It’s time for some training.” 

You shiver pathetically in the cold morning air. If you had known helping a stranger would lead to be harassed by a fox spirit, you would’ve never done it in the first place. 

“Try harder,” Gojo says at your sixth failed attempt to turn water into wine. 

“It smells alcoholic,” Megumi offers loyally. 

“I am trying!” You insist. 

“Harder,” Gojo snarls. 

The seventh attempt doesn’t change. Gojo throws up his arms and stalks out of the shrine, declaring the need to cool his head. Tsumiki frantically trails him, not trusting him to not attempt to run away again. 

Megumi tries to assure you that you’re doing well, but honestly, you need to leave too. The shrine feels too stuffy. A change of scenery will do you good. Sitting alone in the woods just behind the shrine, you try to focus. Slowly, stacks of ofuda disappear from your hands as you paste them to trees, willing them to blossom. Wilt. Do anything, anything at all. 

You’re out cold when Gojo finds you. 

“Divine power takes time,” he says as he prepares dinner. “Use too many talismans at once and you’ll pass out.” 

You drink a spoonful of soup morosely. “How do I get stronger?” 

“You’ll get stronger if you grant prayers.” 

Tsumiki perks up. “One just came in!” 

“I already looked at it,” Gojo says dismissively. “Not that one.” 

“Everyone’s wishes deserve to be looked at,” you argue. 

Gojo scoffs, “Not this one.” 

“Don’t be rude! A god can’t pick and choose.” 

He tosses the prayer at you. 

Morimoto Rika’s request touches your heart. She’s the spirit of a nearby lake - not just any spirit, as Megumi helpfully clarifies, but another owner of a shrine. A human boy visits her waters nightly. By the light of the moonlight, she fell in love with him, but she can’t meet him because they live in two separate worlds. 

And to think that you would’ve never known to help her if Gojo had continued keeping this from you. 

“This sounds like the perfect job for me,” you argue. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Yokai can’t fall in love with humans.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “Aren’t you bound to do as I say? Take me to her.” 

Against his will, Gojo summons what’s called a ‘night fog coach’. Only operable at night, as the name suggests, it’s a tall black carriage truly made for a god. You’re just wondering how Gojo expects you to climb aboard when he effortlessly lifts you by the waist. 

“You’re the one who wanted to go meet her,” he sneers. “Chop-chop.” 

Your supplicant looks like a fish if it were a girl. She has pale green skin and large, black eyes, with overly large teeth for her mouth. Black hair frames a heart shaped face. She’s cute, in her own monstrous way. And she’s desperately in love with a human boy. 

Gojo helps you transform her into a human body and make her over into a normal teenage girl. For a prayer granted, it feels like nothing more than dressing your friend up for a date. 

You’re even as nosy as you would be in that situation. It’s the first prayer you’ve ever granted. You know you shouldn’t, but you and Gojo watch the burgeoning romance from a distance. Of course, he’s completely disapproving, but you have high hopes for them - until Rika pulls out a ring. 

Aren’t they moving a little too fast? 

It only gets worse when Rika confesses that she’s been stalking him - sort of. Keeping tabs on him for his safety by following him around town is a little too close to the other, for your liking. Your head drops into your hands. 

But Yuta takes it surprisingly well. A little too well, in fact. It only seems to infatuate him even more. You knew there were certain types of men out there who loved crazy, but you had never seen it in real life - until now. 

Could this even be counted as a success? 

You’re happy for Rika and Yuta, as happy as you can be for their twisted little union, but you’re just waiting for Gojo to bite your head off for bringing a (real) monster and a human together as soon as you get back home. At least they’re happy, you think ruefully. Worse things could happen. Your first union as a marriage god didn’t fail. In fact, of all people, Yuta seemed the most likely in the world to accept Rika as she was, human or not. 

To your surprise, returning to the shrine, Gojo begrudgingly says, “You did well.” 

Any warm feelings you have for him the next day are replaced when he barges into your room and demands you strip. 

“You have guests,” he says. “Messengers from Toji-sama, the god of the wind.” 

Your eyes grow wide. You hadn’t known Toji was a god. Come to think of it, did Gojo even know the reason why you had been falling from that cliff? You weren’t sure if he had come in time to see who had pushed you. 

“What are you worried about? I’ll be at your side the whole time.” 

You’ll tell him later. Right now, you have a serious matter to prepare for. 

You tried not to discriminate on the basis of his master, but it’s not that at all. Toji’s familiar, Naoya, is simply annoying on his own terms. 

“So you’re the new god of this ramshackle little shrine,” he sniffs. “God, it’s disgusting. How poor are you?” 

“You must be the thirteenth familiar Toji’s owned. He goes through you like toys, doesn’t he? Of course you wouldn’t know that he used to live in worse conditions before. Deplorable.” Gojo laughs in his face. 

Naoya grits his teeth. “I’m surprised your little human dared to show her face. I thought she’d be terrified after what Toji did to her. They’re such weak little things.” 

Gojo looks at the other demon with a calm that worries you. As human as he is, there are moments when you can catch the monster lurking within. He’s like the sea, deceptively calm until you remember the threat of an unseen riptide. 

“If you insult my master again,” he says carefully, enunciating every word like he’s stabbing at them with a knife, “I will take your head and deliver it to your master as a present.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re happy to be serving a mortal girl,” Naoya laughs. “Not someone like you, Satoru. How the mighty have fallen.” 

Gojo looks at him for a long moment, then he ignores him completely and walks to your side. The most painful part of Naoya’s digs at you is knowing he’s right. Gojo doesn’t like this. How could he? He went from being the strongest to being commanded by some powerless girl. Still, Gojo gazes at you with his inscrutable eyes. You can’t read him at all. 

Slowly, he sinks to his knees next to you. 

With a gentleness you can hardly bear, he lays his head in your lap, as gentle and docile as a puppy. His neck is bared as if for an executioner’s axe, the delicate pulse of his heart open to you. He closes his eyes. His breath is shallow. He stays there, and says no more. 

“Oh, Satoru,” Naoya says in delight. “You really have become a tamed thing.” 

With an uncertainty you’re trying to hide, you lift your hands to Gojo’s head. His hair is sinfully soft. You’re almost scared he’ll try to take your hands off for it, but when you start to gently pet his hair, he almost purrs. His eyes close, half-lidded in pleasure. 

“I serve who I want to serve,” Gojo says. His tail lashes behind him. “Who are you to tell me my master is unworthy?” 

Naoya shrugs, clearly disbelieving. “Sure, Satoru. Keep telling yourself that. I’m just here to deliver a gift.” 

He tosses you a package wrapped carefully in beautiful, ornate wrapping paper. You’re sure it’s not Toji’s doing. He’s not the type. 

As soon as he leaves, Gojo pushes himself away from you. It leaves you a little sorrowful, the speed with which he tries to get away. He only did it for your sake, you know. He wanted to protect your honor in front of Naoya because you’re his master. But it must have disgusted him, to get on his knees for a human, if he recoiled so fast. 

“What did he mean, what Toji did to you?” Gojo asks over dinner. 

You know instantly that you’ll only draw his ire if you try to play dumb. 

“Toji pushed me off that cliff the day you found me.” 

Gojo’s eyes darken. The next time Naoya returns, he promises you, he’d set his tail on fire. No one besmirches his master’s honor like that. 

It’s about honor, of course. You’d be a fool to think otherwise. 

Alone in your chambers, you unwrap the package Naoya gave you. It’s an incense burner, beautiful and silver. As apology presents go, it’s a decent one. You set it aside for use at a later time. 

Naoya’s visit only makes Gojo’s training worse, but these days, you’ve grown used to him and his harsh words. The more that he yells at you for being weak, the more you can brush it off as Gojo just being Gojo. That only irritates him more, of course. 

But nothing pisses him off as much as you claiming that you’re returning to school. Gojo thinks that you have no need for school as a god. There’s nothing the humans can teach you that he can’t. 

In your eyes, Gojo is a kitsune. That means he’ll never understand a teenage girl’s heart. School isn’t about learning, it’s about the experience! You’ll never be in high school again - there are so many things you still haven’t experienced, like school trips. You only have one youth - you have to seize it in the moment! 

Gojo isn’t convinced. 

Like an overbearing parent, he nags you all day and night until finally, you strike a deal. He’ll let you go to school, but only as long as you cover up the god-mark on your head. Gojo is never one to make things easy for you. The hat he bestows you with is an ugly grandma print with faux fox ears. You’ll be the laughingstock of the school!

“It’s dangerous,” he says. “Who knows what wild beasts will be lurking about?” 

“You’re the wild beast,” you say. “I can’t wear that!” 

“I guess you can’t go to school then,” he sighs. “What a pity.” 

It’s all for show, of course. You know what he’s really like. There’s no use in arguing - either you agree to his compromise or you stay here, stuck in the temple for the rest of your life. You’ll miss out on all the joys of youth, never growing old in your cloistered shrine. The thought is unbearable. 

You snatch the hat from him in indignation. Putting it on before you leave the next day makes you cringe, but as long as you avoid mirrors, you can almost forget that it’s there - if not for your classmates staring at you. You can feel their judging eyes everywhere you go, and the whispers. 

You can’t even say you don’t care - you do care. You only have one high school life, and Gojo is ruining it. During lunch, you escape into the bathroom to mope and avoid all of your classmates. 

“Are you getting bullied?” Gojo’s voice is too bright and cheery for your dark mood right now. You can’t promise to remain calm if he stays here. 

“This is the girl’s bathroom, Gojo.” 

“Don’t be like that. I’m just worried about my master,” he says. “Well? How is it? Do you want to go home now?” 

He’s lying. You know he’s not worried about you at all, but you should be used to it. You don’t know why it stings as much as it does. 

You’re hurt even though you know this is just how Gojo is. Of course he’d be happy to see you miserable - he hadn’t even wanted you for a god in the first place. He’s bound to you by obligation, and nothing more. You had known from the start that he didn’t care about you, so why does it hurt that he won’t comfort you? It’s just like those nights in the demon world that seem so long ago now. He hasn’t changed at all. 

Gojo isn’t as shocked by your outburst as he is by the tears slowly welling up in your eyes. He stands stunned as you rush out of him and back into the hallway. 

Tsumiki appears next to him out of thin air, completely unimpressed. 

“You did a terrible job on that one, Gojo.” 

As if in a daze, he lifts his hand, where the crystal of one teardrop shines. He’d tried to reach for you at the last moment, but you were already gone. “I made her cry...” 

Megumi appears next to Tsumiki, his face red. “What’s taking so long? Hurry up and leave! We’re in the girl’s bathroom!” 

“Gojo was bullying our master,” Tsumiki announces. 

“I wasn’t bullying her!” 

“He made her cry.” 

Gojo winces. “Okay, yeah. I did do that.”

Megumi kicks him in the leg, which amounts to almost nothing. “Take responsibility, then!” 

When you return home, Gojo is waiting by the shrine door with an almost offensively polite smile on his face. “Let me take your coat, master.” 

Him being kind gives you the creeps. You can’t help but feel like he’s planning something, especially when he shows you the lavish dinner he prepared for you with all of your favorites. 

“What’s with the look?” He says, annoyed at your accusing eyes peering at him over your bowl. “I do something nice for you and this is how you treat me?” 

“This is really just for me? No ulterior motives?” 

“None,” he promises. 

The smile that breaks over your face is like the sun through rain clouds - sudden, dramatic, and almost painfully bright after a period of gray skies. 

“Thanks, Gojo!” 

The look in his eyes is unreadable as he reaches to spoon more food onto your plate. 

You don’t have anyone else in this world. Besides the shrine spirits, Gojo might be the only person in the world who will take care of you. For some reason, the thought doesn’t sting as much as it did this morning. 

The second day of school starts with pouring rain, as if it’s a direct reaction to your foul mood earlier. Gojo pulls you back when you try to leave. 

“It’s a bad omen,” he says. “Stay home with me today. I’ll worry about you if you go.” 

Normally, such sweet words might bring a blush to your face, but you can read between the lines. 

Stay home with me today so I can keep you out of trouble, you brat. 

I’ll worry about you if you go because you’re weaker than a worm. 

“Stop trying to keep me from going to school! I thought we got over this yesterday,” you huff. “I’m going to be late for the bus!” 

You leave Gojo with a handful of air as you dart under his outstretched arm and out the door. 

In school, all your classmates are listless. 

You’ve never been so unhappy to not be the subject of attention. What is wrong with everyone? Even the teacher doesn’t reprimand anyone for sleeping in class, half-asleep herself. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to be caught in this spell of drowsiness, which insinuates paranormal origins. 

As you’re sweeping the classroom after class, one of your classmates lets out a disgruntled noise. 

“It’s a snake,” she says, not at all with the intonation of someone who’s just discovered a snake. Ami’s the type to go apoplectic at the sight of a fly, much less an actual snake, so you don’t pay much mind until you hear Kurama go, “Huh, she wasn’t kidding.” 

There’s a little yellow snake in the classroom. In their stupor, none of your classmates seem to care all that much about it. They just continue going about their chores. You feel bad for it. It’s such a small, fragile little creature. In their state, they might accidentally end up crushing it. 

With gentle murmurs of encouragement, you coax it into your hand. It’s surprisingly docile and twines itself readily around your wrist before you set it outside the window to be set free. 

Gojo doesn’t praise you for your act of heroism on the behalf of his fellow yokai, as you remind him. You saved his compatriots! Where’s the gratitude? 

He calls you a stupid little girl. “I don’t care about them, I care about you!” 

Your face warms with embarrassment against your will even though you know he doesn’t mean it like that. Time and time again, Gojo has stressed that he will never see yokai and humans as even remotely on the same playing field, much less capable of being romantic partners. 

“You’re my master,” he says. There’s your call back to reality. “Look at this mark on your wrist.” 

It appears like a normal bruise to you, though you’re not sure how it could’ve happened. Your new snake friend was very gentle when he was coiled around your wrist. He must have been someone’s escaped pet. You hope he found his way back home. 

Gojo’s mad. He’s enunciating every word. 

“This is exactly why I have to keep such a close eye on you. That’s no ordinary bruise. That is an engagement mark. Care to explain to me how I left you alone for one second and you got yourself engaged to a divine beast?” 

Your face pales. “Excuse me?” 

“That snake is going to come and claim you as his bride.” 

“As a bride?” Your head spins and you have to sit down. You’re too young to get married. You look up at Gojo, teary-eyed. You don’t want this. 

“Stop making that face,” he snaps, pushing a hand over your face to hide it. “As if I would let that happen. The master of the Yaga shrine, my master, could never be wed to a mere snake.” 

If Gojo says he won’t let it happen, you can put your faith in him. You breathe a little easier. As mean as he can be, Megumi and Tsumiki weren’t lying when they called him the best familiar. He’s the strongest and most capable person or rather, yokai, that you know. There’s not a single task you set for him that he hasn’t been able to complete. 

It’s still raining when you go outside to practice your talisman making. 

You find the weather quite pleasant, even though it’s a little damp. The chill in the air cuts through the muggy feeling of summer, and the raindrops cool your cheeks. When you turn your face up to the sky, you can taste ozone in the little drops that pelt your face. 

“You’re very beautiful, kamisama,” says a voice. 

There's a man waiting just outside the red gates. A supplicant? In this weather? You better get him inside in a hurry. You dash over to him. 

“What are you doing? Come inside, you’ll get wet!” 

Just as you reach him, he lifts his face. He looks like a statue, with high cheekbones, and solemn eyes. His hair is the same pale yellow as the snake you saw earlier that day-

“Gojo!” 

But it’s too late. 

The snake has a hold on your wrist, right above the engagement mark. He takes you away. 

One moment, you’re standing in your own backyard, the next, you’re surrounded by almost-familiar bamboo walls. It looks like your shrine but for little distinguishing touches. That makes you uncomfortable. 

“This is Haibara shrine,” the snake says. “I’m Nanami, the familiar of Haibara-sama. I’ve taken you away to marry you.” 

There’s a curtain over the center of the room. Haibara presumably rests behind it, but something strikes you as off about the whole scenario. That’s not what’s foremost on your mind, however. 

“I don’t want to marry you! You kidnapped me!” 

He tilts his head at you. “I couldn’t have kidnapped you. We’re engaged, you see?” He traces the mark on your wrist with one slim finger. “We’re going to be very happy together.” 

“You’re being creepy,” you push him away. 

At your rejection, something dark crosses over his features - not danger, but pain. He has some nerve feeling upset when you’re the one who should be upset here! 

“That’s alright,” he says, trying to stroke your hair. You won’t let him touch you. “I know it can take some getting used to. Here, let me show you to your room.” 

Nanami has clearly put a lot of thought into decorating for you. It’s beautifully furnished, with rich silk sheets and the fragrant smell of plum blossoms permeating the air. Here, there’s not a single thing you could want but- 

Gojo. 

You miss Gojo and you miss your shrine. 

When Nanami leaves you in your room, it feels like a tomb in the silence. You bury your face in your expensive, hateful sheets and try to resist the urge to sob. You want Gojo to come get you. You want to go home. 

Hours pass, but Gojo doesn’t come. 

Nothing but the sound of your breathing changes, passing from frantic to deeper, slower, steadier. As your head clears, you notice the window. It’s a beautifully ornate design, a red knot of luck. The center is just big enough for a girl to squeeze through, if you try hard. 

Resolve grips you. 

You’re not going to wait for Gojo to rescue you. You’re going to get out of here yourself, find him, and scold him for not coming to get you earlier. Aren’t you his most beloved master, as he so professes? You’re going to make him kneel for at least three hours practicing his apologies! 

Filled with renewed conviction, you hoist yourself onto the window sill and begin the tedious task of shimmying yourself out. Just when you’re nearly there, the sharp edge of the metal scrapes your shin, leaving a long, thin cut. 

The smell of salt replaces the plums immediately. 

“God?” Comes Nanami’s voice. “I smell blood. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine!” You panic. If he discovers your escape attempt now, he might try to put you in a more secure room, and then you’ll really never see Gojo again. 

The adjacent wall caves in. 

Gojo stands in the rubble, seething, each hand wreathed in blue flame. He doesn’t even notice you, his attention wholly focused on Nanami. “You drew her blood? Are you prepared to face the consequences of hurting my master, snake?” 

You grab his arm just before he attacks. “He didn’t! I hurt myself on the window- oof!” 

Gojo’s so much bigger than you are. When he folds you into his arms, his entire body surrounds you. His chin tucks itself over your head, his large arms wrap around your body. You’ve never felt more secure than you are here, now. “I thought you’d be crying.”

His voice is hoarse. 

You’ve never heard that before. 

“You came,” you whimper, burying your face into his shoulder.  

Nanami’s face is crestfallen. “Are you going to leave me?” 

You grab Gojo’s arm and duck into the other room, where Haibara’s curtain is. 

“Don’t!” Nanami cries. 

When you pull it back, there’s nothing but an old, dusty kimono. 

You were right. 

This place is godless. 

“You’re no familiar,” Gojo snarls, turning on Nanami. “Don’t even think to call yourself that. The difference between you and me is as clear as day, you vile beast. You’ll pay for your insolence with the loss of your shrine.” 

Nanami’s misery is written all over his face. You’ve realized what’s wrong with this shrine. It’s too quiet, as if no one has prayed here for generations. Haibara has been dead for a long, long time.

Nanami must have been lonely. 

“Don’t,” you tell Gojo.

He stares at you, incredulous. “Are you out of your mind?” 

You tug yourself out of Gojo’s arms. Nanami’s crouched on the ground, trying to shield Haibara’s old kimono from Gojo’s foxfire. You kneel to his level. 

“I’m sorry you’ve been lonely for all this time, Nanami. I can’t stay with you, but if you come to my shrine, we can play again.” 

Nanami weeps and reaches for your hand. The mark of the snake dissolves. 

Gojo doesn’t talk to you on the way back to the shrine.

“Don’t be mad,” you say, tugging on the sleeves of his kimono. He gives you a deadpan stare. “Come on! I only did it because-” 

You can’t finish your sentence. 

Of course, that piques Gojo’s interest. He can never resist bullying you. 

“Because? Go on,” he goads you. 

You say it so quietly he can’t hear you, even with his fox ears. He spins around, grabs you by the waist, and hoists you up so you’re face to face. You yelp and scramble to grab onto his shoulders for balance. 

“Louder,” he demands. “I can’t hear you.” 

“I was thinking about what would happen if I died and you were all alone again. I couldn’t leave him alone because I was thinking of you,” you tell him. Thinking of Gojo watching after an empty shrine all alone like Mizuki makes your heart ache for reasons you can’t explain. 

He stiffens. “What a strange thing to worry about. I wouldn’t care.” 

“Ugh,” you smack him in the shoulder. You shouldn't have tried to be kind to him. 

He doesn’t put you down, shifting you into an easier hold. “You’re hurt,” he admonishes when you try to squirm. 

Just before you enter the shrine gates, he has a confession of his own to make. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You got hurt because I wasn’t protecting you.” 

You rub his ears, an indulgence you’re not sure he would’ve allowed if he wasn’t in such a mood. “It’s not your fault!” 

“I’ve never had a human master,” he says. “I have to be careful not to break you. You’re so easily hurt.” 

“You don’t have to say it like that,” you say, and then the shrine spirits are there to welcome you home. 

You hadn’t realized you thought of the shrine as home until today. 

Even though Nanami’s mood isn’t affecting the weather anymore, it’s still raining. Gojo tells you not to mind the weather, even though you’re certain that it’s not from natural causes, which means it is your job. Ever since you came back from Haibara’s shrine, Gojo has been extra protective of you. 

You hadn’t thought Gojo had needed to be protected too, not until the thunder god came. 

The god of storms and lightning is called Getou Suguru. He carries a mallet in one hand that can transform whoever it touches into their younger forms, and he used to be Gojo’s best and only friend. He’s also the one who called a bounty on your head.