#just an idea I'm considering u know how it goes

[byanyan]

actually ngl, i have been playing with the idea of byan, at some point in their fledgling verse, probably years down the line, eventually coming to work at some shitty little 24 hour tattoo shop

[kisakis-boyfriend]

OH SHIT UH baizhu x monster reader because I've been thinking about him lately. maybe something dubcon-y? I love pathetic men whimpering and crying 🎃

Author's Note: My mind went places, y'all… very horny places. 💀

Pairings: Baizhu x male reader

Warnings: Male plant monster!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Baizhu, sort of gullible Baizhu, dubcon, handjob, facial, riding, aphrodisiac, mild dumbification

Why he had to run out of this particular herb was beyond him. As if that wasn't annoying enough, his suppliers were out of stock and wouldn't be able to ship him any more. The location of this herb has become increasingly dangerous, and no one could figure out why the men sent to gather these herbs came back… weird, to say the least. Nonetheless, Baizhu needed those herbs to treat his patients.

Was it a stupid idea to travel out there by himself and gather them by hand; yes, most certainly, and Changsheng told him as much, but a doctor's mind is a puzzling thing.

And that's how he ended up here; in the high mountains of Chenyu Vale. Normally, one would expect to run into a few monsters, at the very least, but Baizhu had yet to see a single one during his trek. There were plenty of other creatures, and the foliage didn't seem withered, so it's not as if this place was devoid of life nor on a biological decline—there was simply a lack of danger. Which is a strange occurrence, considering the reports he'd read…

That fact really should be comforting to the frail doctor, but in truth, it made a shiver run down his spine. His eyes nervously scanned over the immediate grassy grounds, hoping to catch a glimpse of the herb he so desperately needed — desperate enough to set foot on this mountain alone.

It took a bit more searching, but the herb in question was flourishing just around the back of one particular mountain. Baizhu carefully made his way towards the area, picking one herb and inspecting it to check its quality and that it was, in fact, the correct herb. Picking a few more, Baizhu comes across one plant that refuses to be plucked — an unusually tough herb, resisting his attempts to yank it out from the dirt.

As he goes to inspect the stem, a soft voice cries out; “U-um… excuse me? Could you help me…?” Looking over his shoulder, the doctor spots a person's head sticking up out of the ground—except their skin has a pale green hue to it, and as this person rises up, he notices how the ground around them shifts; as though the ground is a part of them.

Baizhu turns halfway, cautiously keeping an eye on you as he questions, “…What do you need help with?” The way your body flows effortlessly when you move—creating ripples in the immediate area around your torso—piques Baizhu's curiosity.

“O-oh! Um… it's a little embarrassing, if I'm being honest, sir…” you begin, “As you've probably guessed, I am not a human — think of me as a type of dendro spirit, I guess? Uh, anyways, there's this…ritual, of sorts, that only a human can help me with–”

The whole time you're explaining this predicament of yours, Baizhu keeps a watchful eye on you to make sure you're not tricking him. Even though you come across as rather sheepish.

“…I understand if you don't trust me, I just don't know what else to do…humans don't come around here too often, and the pain has become so much worse–”

“I'll help you.” He interjects. The sparkles in your eyes force him to hold back a chuckle as you thank him a million times over. “Please take me to this plant of yours.”

You excitedly take off, essentially a torso and head gliding halfway inside the ground, while this kind human with green hair trails just behind. Arriving at your destination, Baizhu kneels down, giving you a glance, and you return it nervously.

Baizhu eyes the plant inquisitively, staring at the odd shape and strange fleshy texture of the whole thing.

“Go on, doctor, I-I'm ready…” you prompt, giving the man a shy smile to mask your nerves.

With a quick breath to strengthen his resolve, the doctor raises his hands, wrapping them both around the plant and lightly squeezing it until a wet substance seeps out through the petals. “A-ah! aAh-” you gasp suddenly.

“I'm sorry—did that hurt?!”

You shake your head, nearly whimpering as you try to assure him, “N-no… just surprised me. Your hands… they're a bit cold…”

“My apologies, they should warm up soon enough. Shall we keep going?” Said like a true doctor. This stranger with kind eyes has been nothing but gentle with you so far, helping out a non-human creature whom he only met a few minutes ago, even if he finds your request a tad strange.

More wetness falls down his hands, pouring from the plant the more he squeezes and twists his hands around the elongated object. He experimentally moves his hands to other areas, and when Baizhu's thumbs rub and press on the tip of the plant, you're unable to hold back a sharp intake of air. Your eyes roll back momentarily, and you chomp down on your lower lip to conceal the noises threatening to escape.

The doctor eyes your pained expressions with worry written all over his face. “It's… fine — I'm fine. The pain… is not that bad… please, don't stop, doctor.”

As you wish, Baizhu milks more and more liquid from the plant, creating a pool of it underneath the stem of the plant—gradually creeping towards his knees and threatening to soak his pants. For the most part, it feels and looks like regular water, but there's a faint sensation of stickiness on his palms, close to the surface of the plant.

While this is supposed to be a medical procedure, Baizhu can't help feeling a bit… embarrassed by the whole situation. This plant of yours—it is a bit phallic. Not to mention how the method used to wring out the liquid is akin to… uh, a specific hand movement performed on phallic objects. The suggestive sounds coming from your mouth don't help that either. Baizhu can't ignore you when you moan out “Faster… faster, doctor- aah~ Keep stroking it like that… it's definitely woRKING-!”

The more Baizhu watches himself squeeze the glistening liquid from your plant, the deeper into a trance he falls — soon enough he's fallen so deep that he shamelessly jerks off the phallic plant until the tip opens up and explodes like a volcano; shooting thick, honey-like ropes all over Baizhu's pretty face.

The substance drips all down his features — clumping in strands of hair, clinging to his glasses, dripping from his nose and chin, and even a little sliding into his open mouth. “A-ah! Y-you… you did it… you made me release it all, doctor~” you comment — your words are the only thing penetrating that fuzzy mind of his right now. “Thank you soooo much~ But, could I trouble you with one more thing?” you lean forward, gently holding the doctor's chin so that he can't turn away from you. “Won't you help me again? It's the only way for me to feel all better.”

“Aah…? I don't… understand…” Baizhu breathes, confused and seemingly in a daze. It's such a precious sight to behold, really.

You reach out and slide a hand up and down the doctor's stomach, teasingly pushing his top up a few times before moving towards the edge of his pants. “You'll help me, won't you? You're such a kind doctor, after all~” you remind him. Baizhu's pants are quickly yanked down, removed the rest of the way by vines that the good doctor never noticed before…

With his sensitive areas laid bare for you to see, Baizhu gasps, frozen in place as your hands feel up his waist and thighs, pushing the latter apart so that you can inspect his body. Sliding two fingers towards his rear, you find that special hole humans have and tease around the rim of it. “Aha! There it is. I'm sorry to ask so much of you, but… I really need this right now.”

While he has no idea what you mean, the doctor senses something amiss within your words. Your fingers attempt to push inside of him, and Baizhu clumsily refuses. “I-I don't think… don't think that I can do that, young man… mm ooh~”

Impatiently, you lift him up and pull him towards you, hovering his hole right above the plant he'd previously milked. A little burst of liquid shoots from the tip, splashing against Baizhu's entrance, which startles him. The consistency of the liquid feels just like the substance it coated his face in earlier; thick, sticky, and warm.

While Baizhu's mind tries to resist, his body is doing quite the opposite, already lowering itself down until the tip of the plant is entering his ass. “A-AAH! Wait–!” he begs. But it's too little too late as your phallic plant penetrates him with ease, thanks to that honey-like fluid. The fleshy appendage pushes a wave of liquid inside his hole, and it creates a wet mess all over his ass, thighs, and the ground below as you begin to fuck him.

“Mm doctor… you feel incredible~ Hehe, look at that—this little guy is having fun too~” Baizhu blushes deeply, shaking his head while you watch his cock bounce every time your plant cock thrusts in.

“N-no… please, harder–! This is weird… aah~ so good~ ” the doctor grits his teeth, biting his lower lip as he grows frustrated by his own mouth betraying him. The cutest whimpers are the only sounds coming from his mouth as you continue your assault on his hole, thrusting your plant deeper and deeper. The amount of liquid gushing out of Baizhu's ass is ungodly now; sticky, squelchy, slick fluids that overflow with every thrust, filling his tummy until it hurts with how full it is.

“You're doing amazing, doctor! That terrible ache is almost gone, I j-just need to– guh!” you suddenly slam your hips into him, laughing as a pang of pleasure wracks your body and causes you to bury your cock in him. Your hands fly to his waist, and you bounce the human while he whimpers some more.

Tears begin to roll down Baizhu's cheeks, staining his glasses with a salty film as you release another round of that thick substance; this time inside the doctor's body. You pant wildly, mere inches from his face while your plant cock spreads open inside of his hole, releasing far too much liquid inside his belly.

[dollsxcaptains]

DeadDoveDontEat | DontLikeDontRead 18+

Incel! Peter Parker, is such good material for a creepy yandere who isn't aware of how he comes off... I love him, internet stalking, non consensual photo taking, threats/violence, mastubation

꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦꒷︶ ︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦

Peter is the sweetest neighbor ever but he just lingers a bit too much..

You feel guilty feel guilty for feeling so uncomfortable with his rather odd behaviors when he's such a nice guy..but fuck is he odd.

like for example; His insistence to help you whenever he catches you even slightly struggling to complete a task would be endearing if when he wouldn't overstay his "welcome" in your apartment after helping you. I mean you wouldn't be so creeped if he actually was good company rather than it being you awkwardly standing there while he stumbles over asking you strange and rather invasive questions.

Or how he's always finding a reason to touch you. Not just a graze of his calloused fingers against your delicate skin....and not just a firm yet friendly squeeze to your shoulder.. No. Peter loves to give his darling hugs that feels like they should be reserved for meeting up with your long distance partner and not your neighbor that could barely be considered a "friend" with how intimate they feel. And there have been times where he’s been extra excited to see you and you’ve felt something poking at you…

He also has a habit of caressing your arm the entire time he's talking to you or rubbing circles on your knees with his thumb.

Should I even mention his staring? Who knew that such beautiful, doey brown eyes could make you feel so unsettled. You're not even sure if Peter knows just how wide and intense his gaze is whenever he's around you. Or if he knows that it's considered to be inappropriate to stare at someone as long as he manages to. You’ve started to avoid wearing anything a bit too tight or revealing as he really cannot make anything subtle. You know he’s enamored by you but damn is he extremely socially stunted.

Peter is naturally clingy with an anxious attachment style even with barely being acquainted with him. He needs to be around you, to insert himself into your life, he's incredibly desperate for your acknowledgement and praise. He'll do anything, anything, anything to get even a half smile out of you. Peter is a pathetic little thing.

Against your better judgment you couldn't say no Pete when he begged asked for your number, or rather you couldn't think of a good excuse without it blatantly coming of as lying... The way he blows up your phone, eagerly anticipating a response from you. No, it doesn't matter to him if you do respond because he's going to keep texting regardless.

hey, this is Pete!

Ur neighbor in apartment 114 ^^

I really enjoyed helping u out today w/ everything

I mean I always enjoy being around u even when you don't need my help

lol

so....wyd

i'm just working on a couple of personal projects

i'd tell you about it but it's super stupid and nerdy lol

i wouldn't wanna bore u xD

but if u do want to know I could tell u and I’ve been told I’m really good at explaining scientific stuff

not that u need explaining

U like science fiction??

Speaking of he’s also found all of your social media but you gave him your number knowing all of your social media is connected to it…so basically you wanted him to add you on all of them. He spam likes every post even dating back a few years, he replies to them and your stories like you’re personally speaking to him.

Don’t post your locations until after you’ve left because he will try and bump into you there and have a “cute” interaction with you. Actually don't post your locations at all because he will hideout there and get your routines and take notes of your orders and casually slip up about it in conversation…

I do love the idea of Peter not knowing how to function when he's jealous. Depending on the Peter he might get a bit more agitated than others but overall he's an insecure wreck.

He goes on about how that guy gives him weird vibes and that you should be careful because of how New York is filled with weirdos. You need someone who is an alright guy and will handle you with care. Sure that guy is super handsome, muscular and charming but maybe..that isn’t always a great thing

Peter thinks he’s going you a great service by getting a background check on the guy and finding out he like stole something when he was a teenager. You’re terrified that Peter, your very weird neighbor was able to find him after only seeing him once in person and maybe knowing only his first name.

You explain to him that it isn’t his place and that some boundaries need to be placed.

Depending on the Peter I could imagine him going out as Spider-Man to scare and beat the ever living shit out of him then going all bloodied back to your apartment, standing over your sleeping body while he goes on about how you just don’t understand and that he’s protecting you. He’s probably palming himself while he does it too.

Oh and that’s something he does a lot. Sneaking into your apartment at least. Either stole the key from under your welcome mat or from the front desk lady and got it copied. He just comes in while you’re out, maybe tidies up a bit or leaves gifts for you. Sometimes he steals your clothes and messily cums all over them. Don’t worry he puts them through the wash before leaving.

Speaking of Spider-Man, he stalks you all across the city. Goes out of his way to interact with you and everything. Maybe following you back on his Spider-Man account and even sending a few messages..

You, like all of New York, is a fan of him until you started having nightmares about him. He reminds you so much of your pesky neighbor and since then you try to avoid going out at night so you have less of a chance at running into the masked hero.

It’s funny because Peter is convinced if you can’t fall in love with himself then he’s more than willing to make sure you fall in love with Spider-Man which is the cooler version of himself. But he negates the fact that the mask doesn’t make the creepiness go away.

Could you imagine catching peter taking photos of you? Like he’s convinced that you must find it flattering that he’s taking so many lovely photos of you. Isn’t that every girl’s dream to be admired?

Why are you hiding behind a tree to get the shot, Pete? And why are so many taken low and a little too..

Peter is definitely the type of person that’d want you to meet his aunt may, which is like the equivalent of meeting his mother. Again this wouldn’t be weird if you were like…friends or something with Peter but he’s just your neighbor who won’t leave you alone. The meeting is awkward for you. It’s clear that Peter goes on and on about you. She acts as if you’re literally his girlfriend which in her defense he probably alluded to you being so.

You want to desperately give him the benefit of the doubt but Peter makes it so hard.

[heartz4levi]

HIIIII ILOVE UR WRITING SM OML I CANNOT THANK U ENOUGH... just a suggestion but would u be interested in doing a ivan x reader nsfw alphabet?? preferably fem reader or gn,, if thats okay!! Have a great day/ night <3

can't find, my all, your soul, i need !

☆ thinking abt ivan + nsfw alphabet . . .

☆ ivan (alnst) ,, fem reader . . the dom/sub dynamic switches at random intervals ,, guess what i'm doing.. pushing the freak ivan agenda ,, lots of sex talk ,, lots of kink talk also.

a — aftercare :

absolute king of pillow talk. will clean the both of you up, provide food and water is needed, the bare minimum really.

but the pillow talk is unmatched. the gossip goes crazy, whether ivan is the one delivering the news or is the one listening to the latest drama you've heard.

b — body part :

ivan likes his eyes. there's a certain mischievous charm in them, one that's hard to replicate, which only adds on to how much he appreicated them.

not a body part, but ivan adores your smile. he can't pick just one part of your body that he loves more than the rest, but something that enchants him a considerable amount is your smile, something he strives to keep on your face for as long as possible.

c — cum :

ivan's cum is thick and sticky. the taste doesn't have any particularly dominating note to it.

always coming in fat globs, ivan likes to paint either your tongue or your cunt white. not the inside. he likes cumming inside too, of course, but there's something about tainting your body with his cum that gets him going, in an odd way.

d — dirty secret :

not really a secret since he did bring the idea up before. ivan is curious and really wants to know how it'd feel like to be used by you.

he's talking toying with him for your own pleasure, unleashing a never before seen sadistic side, torturing him sexually and not showing even an ounce of care for his personal needs.

e — experience :

not a virgin, but also not a total whore.

ivan has slept with a few people before, just enough to know what he's doing by the time he ends up in your bed. and he's well—versed in a lot of kinks, considering how experimental he is.

f — favourite position :

ivan likes to fold you in some of the most foul positions, but doggystyle takes the cake. a certain kind of doggy though.

yeah, the generic doggystyle position is good, but he likes it best when there's a mirror and you're facing it, staring at your own fucked—out expression. always ends up pulling you up, your back flush against his chest to reach even deeper inside of you.

g — goofy :

ivan is never completely serious during sex, but he isn't actively trying to make you laugh either. he's more so just actively teasing you.

however he'd be quite amused if you tried making him laugh mid—sex, as if he wasn't literally going to town on your poor cunt.

h — hair :

nicely groomed. is not against the idea of waxing, but doesn't feel obligated to do it.

as for his partner, ivan just wants someone who prioritizes their hygiene, doesn't mean that your pussy has to be completely bare. fuck it, let it grow out, so long as it's not contagious he'll still hit.

i — intimacy :

can be very, very romantic at times.

but, being the versatile man he is, ivan can also treat you as if you're nothing but a sex toy. however a small part, deep down inside of him, yearns to be gentle. to love you, to worship you, to handle you like you're a sacred treasure.

top tier deep, slow strokes.

j — jack off :

ivan jacks off a regular amount. doesn't practice abstinence but doesn't get off to something every day.

he likes to prolong his sessions though, edging himself on purpose and making it all the more painful so that the eventual climax he will have will make him ascend spiritually.

k — kink :

a whole entourage of kinks. is into so many things, more than you can count on two hands.

ivan does quite like bondage tho and isn't aversed to being tied up himself. he likes the feeling of helplessness that comes with being restrained but takes just as much pleasure in the sensation of control that comes with having you tied up, at his mercy.

l — location :

like previously mentioned, a total freak. ivan is open to taking you during any time of day, at any location.

in public? sure, let the people nearby watch. in a secluded alley? sure, don't cover your mouth though. at home? has bent you over every existing surface.

m — motivation :

ivan enjoys playful banter with you. he encourages you to engage in it with him, to not be afraid of some unserious bickering.

sass—mouthing is a completely different thing. he still encourages it, just not as blatantly. he subtly adds fuel to the fire that is your sassiness, wanting you to strike the right nerve that'll allow him to put you in your rightful place.

n — no :

ivan likes boasting to others, speaks your praises in the midst of conversations with friends and acquaintances, shows you off at every given opportunity.

but ivan isn't fond of sharing. not because he's possessive, but because he doesn't want your eyes to wander elsewhere, as he is afraid that one slip—up on his part will be enough for you to lose interest in him.

o — oral :

absolute beast at oral. knows how to put that tongue to use like no other. it takes such a long time for his jaw to start hurting and even then he keeps going.

ivan is quite fond of receiving oral too. he doesn't have a favourite when it comes to giving or receiving, but the sight of you on your knees, taking all of him into your mouth while slick begins to coat your thighs definitely awakens something with him.

p — pace :

ivan's default pace always manages to knock all of the air in your lungs right out. he gives you plenty of time to adjust to the stretch of his cock, starts out slow at first, but before you know it he's already jackhammering into your cunt.

try to keep up with him, you can't. however it will be entertaining for him to watch you try and meet his thrusts halfway, ultimately giving up once you realize that your efforts are useless.

q — quickie :

always scowls at the mentions of quickies. but it's not like he can really take his time in public or semi—public spaces, no?

technically he can, but.. yeah, no. prefers to slowly pick you apart piece by piece, dumbing you down with each orgasm that washes over you.

r — risk :

his freak tendencies go hand in hand with the love he has for taking a good risk. ivan simply cannot deny a rush of adrenaline, the overwhelming thrill that courses through his body each time he makes a questionable decision.

s — stamina :

ivan has good stamina. not including foreplay, he can go for about four rounds before his stamina starts to deplete.

sometimes though, maybe on particularly stressful days or when he's a lot needier for you, could go at it until the sun rises. not even exaggerating.

t — toys :

ivan does actually own a few toys. he likes using them on himself and is always open to trying new ones.

similarly to how he likes to use them on you, as well. started off with the classic vibrator and ball gag, will ask you to try sounding with him when you get more used to implementing toys in the bedroom experience.

u — unfair :

such a tease it's unbearable. takes pleasure in bullying you to see the plethora of emotions that swirl within your eyes, enjoys controlling your orgasms to watch you thrash around whenever he denies you of yet another one.

v — volume :

ivan is vocal and not afraid to hide a single sound that comes out of his mouth.

moans and whines. moans. if it's not right in your ear, then it's loud and lewd enough for the neighbors to hear.

w — wild card :

at some point you can't pinpoint the exact start of after becoming sexually active with ivan, nothing surprised you anymore when it came to sex.

ivan as a whole is a wild card. are you surprised? no. you've gotten used to him and his interesting preferences by now. as you should!

x — xray :

ivan's cock is long, a little thick. veiny and it curves a tad. the head always leaks so much pre whenever he's really aroused.

if you tease him, you will feel his cock twitch and/or jump. palm him through his pants and you'll feel his cock straining against the fabric, slap it and watch little spurts of cum ooze out of the tip.

y — yearning :

ivan is pretty much always down to get into your pants.

that doesn't mean he's constantly asking to have sex, it just means that he rarely ever denies you. his self—restraint is surprisingly good.

z — zzz :

never falls asleep before you do. the pillow talk keeps him up, not in the haunting him long after you've dozed off way, but in the he's so invested he needs to know more asap way.

[metanarrates]

Hello. Sorry if this a stupid question u can ignore if u want.

How can someone get better at media analysis? Besides obviously reading a lot.

Im asking this bc im in a point where im aware of my own lack of tools to analyze stories, but i don't know where to get them or how to get better in general. How did you learn to analyze media? There's any specific book, essay, author, etc that you recommend? Somewhere to start?

I'm asking you because you are genuinely the person who has the best takes on this site. Thank you for you work!

it sounds like a cop-out answer but it's always felt like a skill I acquired mostly thru reading a ton, and by paying a lot of attention in high school literature classes. because of that I can't promise that I'm necessarily equipped to be a good teacher or that i know good resources. HOWEVER! let me run some potential advice to you based on the shit i get a lot of mileage out of

first off, a lot of literary analysis is about pattern recognition! not just pattern recognition in-text, but out-of-text as well. how does this work relate to its genre? real-world history? does it have parallels between real-life situations? that kind of thing.

which is a big concept to just describe off the bat, so let me break it down further!

in literature, there is the concept of something called literary devices - they are some of the basic building blocks in how a story is delivered mechanically and via subtext. have you ever heard of a motif? that is a literary device. it's a pattern established in the text in order to further the storytelling! and here is a list of a ton of common literary devices - I'd recommend reading the article. it breaks down a lot of commonly used ones in prose and poetry and explains their usage.

personally, I don't find all the literary devices I've learned about in school to be the most useful to my analytical hobbies online. motifs, themes, and metaphors are useful and dissecting them can bring a lot to the table, but a lot of other devices are mostly like fun bonus trivia for me to notice when reading. however, memorizing those terms and trying to notice them in the things you read does have a distinct benefit - it encourages you to start noticing patterns, and to start thinking of the mechanical way a story is built. sure, thinking about how the prose is constructed might not help you understand the story much more, but it does make you start thinking about how things like prose contribute to the greater feeling of a piece, or how the formatting of a piece contributes to its overall narrative. you'll start developing this habit of picking out little things about a text, which is useful.

other forms of in-text pattern recognition can be about things like characterization! how does a character react to a certain situation? is it consistent with how they usually behave? what might that tell you about how they think? do they have tells that show when they're not being trustworthy? does their viewpoint always match what is happening on screen? what ideas do they have about how the world works? how are they influenced by other people in their lives? by social contexts that might exist? by situations that have affected them? (on that note, how do situations affect other situations?)

another one is just straight-up noticing themes in a work. is there a certain idea that keeps getting brought up? what is the work trying to say about that idea? if it's being brought up often, it's probably worth paying attention to!

that goes for any pattern, actually. if you notice something, it's worth thinking about why it might be there. try considering things like potential subtext, or what a technique might be trying to convey to a reader. even if you can't explain why every element of a text is there, you'll often gain something by trying to think about why something exists in a story.

^ sometimes the answer to that question is not always "because it's intentional" or even "because it was a good choice for the storytelling." authors frequently make choices that suck shit (I am a known complainer about choices that suck shit.) that's also worth thinking about. english classes won't encourage this line of thinking, because they're trying to get you to approach texts with intentional thought instead of writing them off. I appreciate that goal, genuinely, but I do think it hampers people's enthusiasm for analysis if they're not also being encouraged to analyze why they think something doesn't work well in a story. sometimes something sucks and it makes new students mad if they're not allowed to talk about it sucking! I'll get into that later - knowing how and why something doesn't work is also a valuable skill. being an informed and analytical hater will get you far in life.

so that's in-work literary analysis. id also recommend annotating your pages/pdfs or keeping a notebook if you want to close-read a work. keeping track of your thoughts while reading even if they're not "clever" or whatever encourages you to pay attention to a text and to draw patterns. it's very useful!

now, for out-of-work literary analysis! it's worth synthesizing something within its context. what social settings did this work come from? was it commenting on something in real life? is it responding to some aspects of history or current events? how does it relate to its genre? does it deviate from genre trends, commentate on them, or overall conform to its genre? where did the literary techniques it's using come from - does it have any big stylistic influences? is it referencing any other texts?

and if you don't know the answer to a bunch of these questions and want to know, RESEARCH IS YOUR FRIEND! look up historical events and social movements if you're reading a work from a place or time you're not familiar with. if you don't know much about a genre, look into what are considered common genre elements! see if you can find anyone talking about artistic movements, or read the texts that a work might be referencing! all of these things will give you a far more holistic view of a work.

as for your own personal reaction to & understanding of a work... so I've given the advice before that it's good to think about your own personal reactions to a story, and what you enjoy or dislike about it. while this is true that a lot of this is a baseline jumping-off point on how I personally conduct analysis, it's incomplete advice. you should not just be thinking about what you enjoy or dislike - you should also be thinking about why it works or doesn't work for you. if you've gotten a better grasp on story mechanics by practicing the types of pattern recognition i recognized above, you can start digging into how those storytelling techniques have affected you. did you enjoy this part of a story? what made it work well? what techniques built tension, or delivered well on conflict? what about if you thought it sucked? what aspects of storytelling might have failed?

sometimes the answer to this is highly subjective and personal. I'm slightly romance-averse because I am aromantic, so a lot of romance plots will simply bore me or actively annoy me. I try not to let that personal taste factor too much into serious critiques, though of course I will talk about why I find something boring and lament it wasn't done better lol. we're only human. just be aware of those personal taste quirks and factor them into analysis because it will help you be a bit more objective lol

but if it's not fully influenced by personal taste, you should get in the habit of building little theses about why a story affected you in a certain way. for example, "I felt bored and tired at this point in a plot, which may be due to poor pacing & handling of conflict." or "I felt excited at this point in the plot, because established tensions continued to get more complex and captured my interest." or "I liked this plot point because it iterated on an established theme in a way that brought interesting angles to how the story handled the theme." again, it's just a good way to think about how and why storytelling functions.

uh let's see what else. analysis is a collaborative activity! you can learn a lot from seeing how other people analyze! if you enjoy something a lot, try looking into scholarly articles on it, or youtube videos, or essays online! develop opinions also about how THOSE articles and essays etc conduct analysis, and why you might think those analyses are correct or incorrect! sometimes analyses suck shit and developing a counterargument will help you think harder about the topic in question! think about audience reactions and how those are created by the text! talk to friends! send asks to meta blogs you really like maybe sometimes

find angles of analysis that interest and excite you! if you're interested in feminist lenses on a work, or racial lenses, or philosophical lenses, look into how people conduct those sort of analyses on other works. (eg. search feminist analysis of hamlet, or something similar so you can learn how that style of analysis generally functions) and then try applying those lenses to the story you're looking at. a lot of analysts have a toolkit of lenses they tend to cycle through when approaching a new text - it might not be a bad idea to acquire a few favored lenses of your own.

also, most of my advice is literary advice, since you can broadly apply many skills you learn in literary analysis to any other form of storytelling, but if you're looking at another medium, like a game or cartoon, maybe look up some stuff about things like ludonarrative storytelling or visual storytelling! familiarizing yourself with the specific techniques common to a certain medium will only help you get better at understanding what you're seeing.

above all else, approach everything with intellectual curiosity and sincerity. even if you're sincerely curious about why something sucks, letting yourself gain information and potentially learning something new or being humbled in the process will help you grow. it's okay to not have all the answers, or to just be flat-out wrong sometimes. continuing to practice is a valuable intellectual pursuit even if it can mean feeling a tad stupid sometimes. don't be scared to ask questions. get comfortable sometimes with the fact that the answer you'll arrive at after a lot of thought and effort will be "I don't fully know." sometimes you don't know and that can be valuable in its own right!

thank you for the ask, and I hope you find this helpful!

[catcze]

not particularly a request if u don't want it to be but as a fellow wriothesley enjoyer I wanted to share this idea

fontaine is based off of france right? so the thought of wrio being able to speak french and absolutely using that to his advantage to be a flirt has been driving me insane. he would be INSUFFERABLE (especially if his s/o isn't fluent) and I'd be loving every second of it

(also love your works <3 it's the main fuel that's been making me so horrifically down bad for him)

OH ?!!? MY GOD ?!?! HEHAKJDJ FUCK I HAVE TO WRITE THIS I CANT NOT !! It's a little short and a little sweet, but i hope you like it!

(Translations listed at the end! I used google translate, so if there's any mistakes, please feel free to correct me!!)

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

Wriothesley has started to say things to you on the regular— but for the life of you, you can't understand. It starts first on a slow day. You're lounging in his office, reading a random book you've plucked from his shelves. He's just looking through some papers, doing nothing too important.

Then, Wriothesley glances up from his papers, lets his eyes fall on you. "Tu me rends si heureux."

And you're furrowing your brow in confusion, staring at him. It's a phrase form his mother tongue, that much you know. But you're not sure what it actually means. The way his smile is a bit too mischievous, you don't think that he intends for you to understand, anyway.

"I'm... sorry?" You ask. What else can you say? You're pretty sure from his insufferably smug expression that he's not going to tell you what it means anytime soon. At the very least, you're pretty sure he's not shit talking you to your face.

Your eyes narrow.

Probably.

He can see the question on the tip of your tongue, the suspicious glance you cast his way. Wriothesley just chuckles and goes back to the papers on his desk.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

The next time, he does it as you're having dinner across from each other in the cafeteria. Your meal is halfway done, having been practically shoveled into your mouth. It probably paints an unflattering picture, but you're too hungry to really care. Resting on the table, he's stubbornly gripping your hand in his own, fingers intertwined. Even though it made eating much more difficult, Wriothesley would scowl and reach back for your hand whenever you tried to take it away, so you just considered it a lost cause.

Lost in filling your stomach, you're almost don't hear what he says.

"Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi." Wriothesley mumbles, thumb stroking the back of your hand tenderly.

You narrow your eyes again, a silent question.

Wriothesley just smiles secretively and raises a hand to his mouth, miming zipping up his lips and locking it with a key, then tossing it away. He winks at you, and you roll your eyes. No answers today, apparently.

"Are you ever going to tell me what it is you've been saying?" you ask once you've swallowed your food.

"Mm. Maybe one day. If I feel like it." And he's grinning again— the cheeky one that he wears whenever he one-ups you, that showcases his dimples and his teeth. You kinda want to punch him, but it also makes you remember how handsome he is when he smiles.

"Fine," you grumble, sighing. You busy yourself once more with your food. "Keep your fucking secrets. See if I care." You do. A lot, actually. You're very curious now.

Wriotheley just smiles and lets you eat.

But he slips up, one evening. To be fair, it's late at night after a hard day's work. Both of you are exhausted— a tangled mass of limbs and sheets on your bed, both of you halfway asleep already.

Your head is cushioned on his chest, nose pressed against his collarbone, and his arms wrapped around you. Wriothesley's nose is pressed into the crown of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. His breaths are deep and slow, and you can tell without even looking that his eyes are fighting to stay awake. You're no better, though.

Just before you nod off though, you can feel the brush of his lips against your hair. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement," he says quietly, lips brushing the strands in affection. If you had just been the slightest bit more asleep, you might not have even heard it.

But while you may not be fluent in his language, may know little else aside from the most basic of phrases, you recognize that one. It's hard not to, when it's arguably one of the most popular phrases from his mother tongue. Je t'aime. I love you.

Something gooey finds its way into your chest, and the blood rushes through your body as you're overcome by the sheer sweetness of the man you're laying on. Slowly, you crane your neck up to face him, and can see the slight widening of his eyes, the quiet oh shit that runs through his head.

"Is that what you've been saying?" you ask, voice just as quiet as his. Wriothesley hesitates, arms tightening their hold on you.

"... generally, yes."

You smile gently, scooching up enough to press a kiss to his jaw, then to his lips, giggling when he leans down to make it easier for you. You bury your head into his neck then, resting your cheek against him. "I love you too, Wrio."

Translations:

Tu me rends si heureux. — You make me so happy. Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi. — I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement. — I love you. I love you so much

[hardly-an-escape]

I'm not sure if this will go anywhere but have 650 words of slightly angsty Tommy POV immediately post-breakup

The first voicemail arrives before Tommy even pulls into his driveway.

"Hey, it's… uh, it's me," Evan says. "I'm just – I'm really confused, Tommy, I'm trying to understand what just happened and I – I can't, I don't get it. Will you call me back? Please? Can we talk about it, at least… just, like, at least a little bit, can we talk about what's going on? Because I – I r-really don't think I can just leave it like that. Please?"

He listens to the message standing up in his kitchen, because he think if he sits down he might just dissolve into the couch and never get up again. Evan's voice sounds foggy, like he's been crying.

Tommy doesn't call back.

The first text arrives about an hour later, while he's halfheartedly throwing together some pasta.

Evan ♥️: i understand if u don't want to talk right now but will you at least let me know u got home safe Evan ♥️: or wherever u went Evan ♥️: please?

He can't look at that heart, he just can't, so he goes into his contacts and changes Evan ♥️ to Buck. Buck Buckley. It looks so stupid that it almost makes his stomach turn, so he changes it to E. Buckley. That's nice and detached and professional. A super normal way to label your ex in your phone. He swipes back to his text thread.

E. Buckley: please?

He takes a deep breath and starts to type.

Tommy: I'm home. Tommy: I don't think it's a good idea for me to call you right now. I'm sorry.

The answer comes almost immediately, as though Evan – as though Buck has his phone in his hand at that moment.

E. Buckley: right now or ever? E. Buckley: i'm just trying to understand E. Buckley: things were good. i really thougt everything was really good and now this is just coming out of nowhere for me. idk I'm sure that's my fault but i don't understand what I missed Tommy

Tommy sighs. "It's not your fault," he says out loud to his phone, which is… not exactly true, but not not true. Evan – Buck had missed some things, some important ones, like the fact that Tommy is fundamentally a broken man who doesn't deserve love and destroys every good thing he touches.

Tommy: It's not your fault. And no, I'm not saying let's never talk again. Tommy: Let's just take some time.

E. Buckley: ok. ok, we can do that E. Buckley: time is good E. Buckley: but just so u know. I am not prepared to give up on us, ok? E. Buckley: i want to fight for us. and i dont know how to do that yet bc i've never really done that before E. Buckley: but you make me want to fight, Tommy. in a good way!!! you make me want to not let go of you E. Buckley: i will leave u alone now but please let me know when your ready to talk

Tommy feels a tickle on his face, and when he lifts his hand to his cheek he's surprised to find that it's wet.

You make me want to not let go of you.

On some level he already instinctively knows that walking away from Evan is one of the biggest mistakes he's ever made. But how can he begin to explain to the other man that chasing after Tommy – after broken, tired, jaded Tommy – would be an even bigger mistake?

He doesn't know what to text back to Evan. To Buck. So he doesn't send anything. He wipes his face with his hand and wipes his hand on his jeans and collapses, finally, onto his couch. He seriously considers dissolving away into nothing and never speaking to anyone again, but in the end he just turns off his phone and turns on the television.

He falls asleep like that. His dreams are blessedly blank.

part two >>

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 19: FLOWERS OF BLOOD

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader

You hum as you close your eyes, feeling the warmth in your veins. His proximity makes your skin feel electric along with whatever curse is inside of you. It gives you a heady feeling. You’re often needy with him, but this feels like a new beast.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: angst, fingering, vaginal sex

ੈ✩ wc: 9k

ੈ✩ a/n: why is this so long u may ask. i don't fucking know

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

May, 2005

Satoru is fifteen the first time he figures out how to warp. The second time he does it is to get inside your room while the two of you are fighting.

His mother offers to take you in for the weekend when yours has to go out of town to visit your grandmother. You think it’s excessive considering you’re certainly old enough to stay home by yourself, but Mrs. Gojo enjoys your company as if you were her own daughter. That, and she thinks that you’d be a good influence on Satoru, who, at the time, was on his second week of being grounded.

You have your own room in the house. It’s mostly sparse save for a few polaroids and drawings from your younger years. It’s odd to be inside it, on the twin-sized bed that you and Satoru used to make blanket forts in. Back when all you had was each other.

You mostly keep to yourself. You don’t exactly know what to do with him besides sharing the couch with him quietly while he plays on his Gamecube. You read your book because you don’t know what to say to him, either. You hadn’t been friends in over a year.

As the afternoon wears on, the silence between you grows heavier, more oppressive. You glance up from your book, catching Satoru's eye for a brief moment before he quickly looks away, his fingers fumbling on the controller. The air feels oddly thick.

"Do you have to mash the buttons so loudly?" you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Satoru pauses the game, turning to face you with a raised eyebrow. 

"Does it bother you?" he asks, his tone deceptively light.

“It’s distracting.”

His blue eyes narrow. “It’s not that loud. Maybe if you weren't so uptight, you wouldn't even notice it."

The barb stings, reminding you of why you drifted apart. "I'm not uptight," you retort. "I just don't waste all my time on video games like you do."

"Oh, right," Satoru scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because keeping your nose is so much more productive."

You feel your face flush with anger. "It is! At least I'm learning something! What are you learning from that game? How to jump on mushrooms?"

“You used to love jumping on mushrooms when we were kids, if I recall. Sorry that you forgot how to have fun, Twigs.”

His words hit a nerve, and you lash out. "Maybe I'd have more fun if my best friend hadn't abandoned me for his stupid jujutsu training!"

The room goes eerily quiet. Satoru's face, usually so animated, becomes a mask of cold indifference.

"Is that what you think happened? That I abandoned you?"

"Didn't you?” you accuse. “We’ve barely spoken in the past two years! Ever since you started getting stronger, you've been different. Distant. Like you're too good for normal people now."

"You have no idea what it's like," he hisses. “You know how much pressure is on me all the time. Not like you’d understand, anyway. You’re just a fucking window.”

“Excuse me?”

“What?” he scoffs. “Just stating a fact.”

“Oh, Satoru, don’t worry. I’m completely aware of how much better you think you are—”

“Oh, give me a fucking break—”

“I just thought you weren’t into that bullshit. But I suppose everything looks better when you’re at the top of the food chain, doesn’t it?”

“Jesus, Twigs. Sorry that I made some friends who can actually keep up with me.”

The words hang in the air, prickling the back of your head like a death blow. You rub your temple, feeling a headache coming on as tears threaten to spill over. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

“Keep up with you?” you spit back, your voice trembling. "Is that what this is about? You need other people to stroke your ego now?"

Satoru's eyes flash dangerously, a flicker of something inhuman passing across his face. 

"You have no idea what I need," he says, his voice low and cold. "You can't even begin to comprehend the world I live in now."

“Go ahead and explain it. Or have you outgrown me so completely that it’s not worth it?”

Satoru runs a hand through his white hair, a gesture you've seen a thousand times before. But now it feels like watching a stranger. 

"That's not what I meant," he says, but his tone lacks conviction.

“Then what did you mean? If you even thought of me as a friend still, which you don’t, you’d at least try instead of pretending you’re some kind of god.”

He looks back at you, and for a moment, you see a flicker of the boy you used to know. But then his walls come back up, and he's once again the untouchable Satoru Gojo. He narrows his eyes.

“A god? How flattering,” he bites, laughing bitterly. Satoru’s face feels too warm with irritation. Out of all the things he’d heard, that had to be the most ridiculous. All his life, he’s heard it. He’d never expected it to come from you, who had only known him when he was human. A defenseless child.

“You’re not invincible,” you whisper.

“Well, maybe I am,” he shrugs coolly. “Ever considered that?”

You scoff in disgust. “You’re not. You’re just an asshole.”

"You don't understand," he mutters, almost to himself. "You can't understand."

There’s a pang in your heart you wish you could ignore. The reality of your love for him comes crashing down, even when you’ve been distant from each other for so long. The habit of thinking about him as a security blanket comes back. You hate it.

Your fingers twitch as you stare at him before quickly averting your gaze. You want to show him how much power you really have. You’ve thought about it plenty of times before — suddenly unveiling your technique to see how he would react to your fingertips decaying something living.

You aren’t prepared for the anger that would probably be unleashed on you. The look of betrayal he’d have.

So, instead, you turn away and bolt for the stairs right as Satoru opens his mouth to say something else. As you hole yourself up in your room, alone in the growing darkness, you can't help but wonder if this is the price of loving someone touched by destiny. You're not sure if you're strong enough to pay it.

__

Dinner that night is tense. You can tell that Satoru’s mother gets the hint, given how often she flickers her stare between you and Satoru.

The head of the household has left for a work meeting, which leaves the three of you. If you were younger, Satoru would’ve had something snarky to say about his father, whether it was just to you or at the dinner table, where he would be scolded. But right now, he sits next to you and doesn’t say a word.

The silence is deafening, broken only by the soft clink of chopsticks against porcelain. You keep your eyes fixed on your plate, pushing the food around more than eating it. The weight of Mrs. Gojo's concerned gaze feels heavy on your shoulders.

"So," Mrs. Gojo says, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife, "how was your afternoon? Did you two have fun catching up?"

“Mhm,” you hum with an air of insistence. Your tone is higher than usual.

“Yeah,” Satoru offers. “Caught up and played video games. And stuff.”

You nod in agreement, avoiding eye contact with anyone that wasn’t your bowl of rice under you. You feel the slight graze of Satoru’s foot against yours. You glance at him briefly to see a small smile on his face, and it surprises you so much that you have to look away immediately.

The rest of the meal passes in silence. As soon as it's polite to do so, you excuse yourself and retreat back to your room. You curl up on the bed and hug your knees to your chest, willing yourself to think of anything other than him.

You’re about to get yourself a cup of tea when you hear footsteps in the hallway, pausing outside your room. For a heart-stopping moment, you think it’s Satoru about to knock. But then the footsteps continue, fading as he walks away.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Part of you wishes he had knocked, that he’d barged in like he always did and maybe apologized. You aren’t sure what his habits are anymore. They certainly had nothing to do with you.

Hours later, it’s impossible for Satoru to sleep. His mind is stuck on you, wondering if you’re still a heavy sleeper. Wondering what things would be like if he didn’t push you away.

Since you’ve been in his home, it’s been hard to look at you.

He warps to your room. It’s the second time in his life that he’s used the technique, and he nearly stumbles onto the bed. He holds his breath with wide eyes as you stir.

Your body is curled into itself, chin tucked underneath your fist. He always thought you looked like a bunny rabbit when you were a child, your nose twitching whenever he’d tease you. You look serene when you’re asleep. Pretty in the moonlight.

He isn’t exactly sure why he’s here, or why he warped at all, considering you probably didn’t lock the door. He had only thought about needing to see you like an itch he needed to scratch. He hadn’t even thought you’d be asleep. 

Truthfully, he imagined that he’d startle you, then you’d yell at him, then he’d make up some half-assed apology and try to humor you. Invade your space. Probably get you to lay with him so he could —

No, he thinks to himself. Out of the question.

But he does feel the need to crawl into your bed. You have a habit of curling towards the sides instead of staying in the middle, as if expecting someone to join you.

He hovers you and taps your forehead lightly. You don’t move. He taps your bottom lip and gets fascinated by the softness. Grazes your nose and gasps slightly when you twitch. You adjust your position, still sleep-ridden, still dead to the world. The comforter falls away to reveal your chest underneath the flimsy material of your cotton tank top.

He forces himself to look away, grunting when he feels his stomach tighten with vague want. It was stupid, being a high school boy. He’d lost his virginity only a few weeks ago and your face had popped into his head without warning. Hormones, he’d told himself. Hormones and familiarity —

He freezes when you let out a whimper. God, he can’t be here. Not with you making sounds like that.

Your breathing picks up. There’s a furrow in your brow that wasn’t there before as you fidget in your sleep. Your body twitches erratically, your knuckles tightening around the sheets. All the sounds you’re making are signs of distress.

“Twigs,” Satoru whispers, caressing your arm lightly. You whimper again, still asleep until he shakes you. With a gasp, you jolt awake.

“Satoru?” you blink at him, frowning. Sweat collects in your brow. “What are you doing here?”

Satoru widens his eyes, scrambling for an excuse.

“I— I couldn’t sleep and I heard you were having a nightmare. I just came to check on you.” A half-truth.

You exhale, closing your eyes before opening them to look at his electric blue ones.

“You okay?” he mumbles.

“Yeah. Just.. anxious.”

He doesn’t know why, but he sits down at the edge of your bed with you. The hairs on his neck prick up from the proximity of your warmth.

“Satoru.”

“Mm?” He pretends to look out the window.

“Will you stay with me tonight? Like you used to when I had nightmares?” you whisper.

He looks at you, eyes softening. He hesitates, his heart beating fast. He knows it’s not a good idea, but something in your voice breaks through his defenses.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

He settles onto the bed beside you, careful to maintain a sliver of space between your bodies. The mattress dips under his weight, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. It's comforting and unsettling all at once.

For a while, you both lie there in silence, staring up at the ceiling. The moonlight casts strange shadows across the room, and you're attuned to every breath, every slight movement.

As your eyes droop towards slumber, you feel his body adjust. There’s a tentative touch to your hip, then an arm slung around your waist. The vague sound of his heart beating lulls you to sleep.

__

June, 2012

There seemed to be a permanent dread in Satoru’s heart when it came to letting you out of his sight. Exacerbated greatly when you’d gone to study in Kyoto, he feels it again when he overhears Shoko and Yaga discussing a mission together.

“Yeah, no, I think I should be retired from missions altogether. I’m trying to be a doctor, here, sensei,” Shoko scoffs. Mumbling, like something was in her mouth. A cigarette, Satoru would bet.

Ironic, he thinks. Smoking away your life while trying to become a doctor.

It’s a mission in Kyoto, something too minor for a Special Grade like him. He’s about to walk past the room until he hears your name.

“You know, she’s better suited for combat even though she technically heals.”

“I suppose she hasn’t been on a solo mission with a Grade 1 or Special Grade yet,” Yaga nods. “And she's still a Grade 2.”

“Yeah. She’s getting better every day.”

And you are. It makes Satoru feel guilty that he hasn’t considered your strength, hasn’t seen it for himself in perhaps years between you being gone and you confining yourself to the greenhouse. He’s always on solo missions, used to being trigger-happy on Grade 1 curses and exorcising Special Grades like the final bosses in his video games.

You are not his damsel but he feels the need to lock you up sometimes. It’s an ephemeral feeling now, but it lingers nonetheless. Part of it must be security, he’s sure – the need to be your safe space when knowing you are his. 

It had been simpler years before, when he had you to himself (and Suguru, too). Now, you have grown older, always as lovely as you’ve been, but with a reformed shell that has stuck to you since your school days. 

He couldn’t believe you had let him kiss you all those years ago. He knew that he’d fucked up something good, was afraid of your friendship as a teenager because of how deeply entwined the two of you used to be. Convinced he would taint something as good as you.

Satoru couldn’t help but indulge in the things he wanted. He’s convinced he’s ruined you somehow anyway. Consumed with you, the architect of his lust. 

He wonders what would happen if he let you use your technique on him. Born with the Six Eyes and prodigious, he had his maximum potential. If he let himself get cut, would your hands heal him faster than his own? If you touched him with the intent to hurt, would he rot from the outside in?

You’re so secretive about your studies. Part of it must be ritualistic – you’re extremely particular about your practice. Satoru often jokes that you would make a great monk.

You’d been warming up to him lately. He knows not to beg. 

Satoru leans against the wall outside Yaga's office, mind racing. You, on a solo mission not in Tokyo? The thought makes his stomach tighten uncomfortably. He knows he shouldn't interfere—you'd resent him for it—but the idea of you facing danger alone makes his blood run cold.

He pushes himself off the wall and heads toward the greenhouse. That's where you'd be at this hour, tending to your medicinal plants with that quiet concentration he's always found mesmerizing. The way your fingers move among the leaves, gentle yet purposeful—it does something to him he can't quite explain.

The greenhouse door is ajar when he arrives, sunlight filtering through the glass panels and casting dappled patterns across your form. You're hunched over a workbench, grinding something in a mortar, your back to him. The air is thick with herbal scents—earthy, sweet, and something sharper that makes his nose tingle.

"Knock knock," he says, not wanting to startle you.

You don't turn around. "I know it's you, Satoru. Your cursed energy announces you like a foghorn."

He grins despite himself. "Is that a compliment?"

"It's an observation." You continue grinding, chuckling. “What do you want?”

Satoru saunters in, running his finger along a leaf of a plant he doesn't recognize. It curls away from his touch. "Can't I just visit my favorite botanist?"

Now you do turn, fixing him with that level stare that always makes him feel transparent. "You never 'just visit.' What is it?"

He looks around, examining the foliage. His eyes settle on a row of strange flowers — black petals with luminescent blue veins that pulse like heartbeats.

"Those are new," he comments, making you jump.

You turn, wiping soil from your hands onto your apron. "They're corpse lilies. They only grow when fertilized with cursed energy from the recently deceased."

"Morbid," he says with a grin, approaching to examine them closer. "I like it."

“What’s up, Satoru?” Your voice is casual but wary. He can hear it.

He watches as you carefully extract a petal from one of the flowers, placing it in a glass vial. Your movements are precise, methodical—so different from the impulsive girl who used to chase him through summer fields.

He hesitates, then decides on directness. "I heard you're taking a solo mission in Kyoto."

Your hand stills for a moment before continuing its work. "Eavesdropping again?"

"Information gathering," he corrects, leaning against your workbench. "It's what I do."

You cap the vial and set it in a wooden rack alongside others. "It's just a Grade 1 curse in Kyoto. Nothing special."

"I could come with you."

Now you look at him directly, eyebrows raised. "The great Satoru Gojo, offering to accompany me on a mission? What would the higher-ups think?"

"I don't give a shit what they think," he says. He means it.

"I don't need a babysitter, Satoru."

"I know that." He steps closer, invading your space in that way he knows annoys and thrills you in equal measure. "Maybe I just want to see what you can do now. It's been a while since we've worked together."

You study his face. He maintains his carefree expression, but your eyes have always seen through him better than most.

"You're worried about me," you state, not a question but a fact. Your fingers trace the edge of the workbench, leaving faint imprints in the layer of soil scattered there.

Satoru shrugs, his casual posture betrayed by the intensity in his blue eyes. "Is that a crime?"

"No, but it's unnecessary." You turn back to your plants, carefully adjusting the position of a potted seedling. "I've been handling myself for years now. While you've been off being the strongest sorcerer in the world, I've been growing too."

He watches your hands work, thinking about those same fingers intertwined with his. His hand twitches.

"I know you have," he says, softer now. "That's why I want to see it."

The greenhouse falls silent except for the soft patter of water droplets falling from the misting system. The air between you feels charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.

You return to your plants, fingers dancing over the leaves of something that looks like mint but smells like copper. "I'm sure you've heard all about my skills from Shoko."

"Shoko only tells me you're improving. She doesn't give details." He leans closer, watching your profile. "I want to see for myself what you can do now."

Your hands still. "Why? So you can tell me how I could do it better? Or so you can swoop in and save me if things go wrong?"‘

The accusation stings more than he expects. "That's not fair, Twigs."

"Isn't it?" You turn to face him fully now, arms crossed. "Every time I've tried to stand on my own, you've been there, hovering. Even when we weren't speaking, I'd feel your cursed energy following me."

Satoru doesn't deny it. Can't deny it. "I was protecting you."

"I never asked for that."

"You didn't have to."

The silence between you thrums. Your eyes drift to the window, where the afternoon sun casts long shadows across the greenhouse floor.

"This mission is important to me," you finally say, voice softer now. "I need to do it alone."

Satoru studies you—the determined set of your jaw, the quiet strength in your posture that wasn't there when you were younger. Something inside him aches with a mixture of pride and loss.

"Fine," he concedes, surprising himself. "But I want details when you get back. And if anything—anything—feels wrong, you call me."

You look up at him, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "I'll consider it."

He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You don't pull away, and he counts that as progress.

"What are these really for?" he asks, nodding toward the corpse lilies.

You hesitate, a private smile flitting across your face. "They're for a new technique I've been developing. The nectar can temporarily reverse decay."

"Reverse decay?" Satoru asks, genuine curiosity replacing his protective instinct. "That's the opposite of your usual method."

"Balance," you say simply, running a finger along one of the pulsing blue veins of the flower. "I've been studying both sides of the equation. Death and regeneration. Destruction and creation."

Satoru watches your movements, fascinated by the confidence in your hands. This is new—this certainty in your abilities that wasn't there before.

"They're also, um, for a new healing technique I'm developing. The corpse lilies absorb cursed energy from the dead, but I've been experimenting with using that energy for regeneration."

Satoru's eyes widen slightly. "Turning death into life. That's ambitious."

"It's theoretical," you admit. "But the preliminary tests are promising. If I can perfect it, we might be able to heal injuries that would normally be fatal to sorcerers."

He moves closer, examining the pulsing flowers with newfound interest. "And the mission in Kyoto? Is it connected to this research?"

You nod, feeling a small thrill at sharing your work with him. "There's a specific type of cursed spirit there that feeds on decay. I need to collect samples of its energy to complete my formula."

Satoru's expression shifts subtly, the playfulness giving way to something more serious. "That's not just a Grade 2 mission, Twigs. Those spirits are rare and dangerous."

"Which is why Yaga assigned it to me," you counter. "My technique is uniquely suited to handling them."

"Show me something else," he says suddenly.

You look up, eyebrow raised. "What?"

"Show me something you've learned. A technique. Anything." His eyes are bright with interest now, not just concern.

You consider him for a moment, then reach for a small potted plant on a nearby shelf. It's withered, brown, clearly dead. Placing it between you on the workbench, you hover your hands above it.

"I haven’t been able to regenerate living things since I was a kid. That cat I had – it took a lot out of me, you know? And it was only the one time," you explain, your voice taking on the measured cadence you use when discussing your work. "But now..."

Your fingers begin to glow with a soft green light, different from the angry red of your decay technique. The air around the plant seems to shimmer, time itself bending around your hands. Slowly, impossibly, the brittle brown stem begins to straighten. Color seeps back into the leaves, spreading from the center outward like watercolor on wet paper.

Satoru watches, transfixed, as the plant resurrects under your touch. Within minutes, it stands vibrant and alive, leaves reaching toward the light.

"That's..." he begins, then stops, genuinely at a loss for words.

"Not as flashy as your Infinity," you say with a small smirk, "but it has its uses."

He reaches out, touching one of the revived leaves gently. "This is incredible. When did you figure this out?"

"Last year. It takes a lot more cursed energy than decay," you admit. "And I can only use it on recently deceased organisms. The longer something's been dead, the harder it is to bring back."

Satoru studies you with new eyes. You've always been powerful, but this—this is evolution. "Does Yaga know?"

You shake your head. "Not the full extent. I've been perfecting it before showing anyone."

"Anyone except me," he points out, unable to keep the satisfaction from his voice.

You roll your eyes, but there's fondness there. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late." He grins, leaning back against the workbench. "So this mission in Kyoto—"

"Is still mine alone," you finish firmly. "But if you're good, maybe I'll tell you all about it afterward."

"If I'm good?" Satoru repeats, his voice dipping into a lower register. "That's quite the condition, Twigs."

You turn away to hide your smile, busying yourself with rearranging vials. "I know your track record with behaving."

He moves closer. "I can be very good when properly motivated."

Your hands are still on the glass containers. The greenhouse feels smaller suddenly, the air thicker with more than just the humidity needed for your plants. You can feel him behind you, not touching but close enough that his warmth radiates against your back.

You step back, needing the space to think clearly. "I leave on Monday. Early."

Satoru drops his hand, accepting the boundary. "Will you at least let me walk you to the station?"

The request is so unexpectedly modest that you almost laugh. "The great Gojo Satoru, reduced to asking for a walk to the train?"

His smile is self-deprecating. "I'm trying this new thing called 'respecting boundaries.' How am I doing?"

"Terribly," you say with a laugh. "But yes, you can walk me to the station."

"Good." He brightens, turning to examine one of your experimental plants. "So, hypothetically, if someone were to get, say, a limb severed by a curse—"

"I could potentially reattach it," you finish. "If I get there quickly enough. The corpse lily extract extends the window of viability."

"And what about internal damage? Organs?"

You nod. "Those are actually easier in some ways. The body naturally wants to heal. I just accelerate and guide the process."

Satoru's eyes gleam with genuine interest. "The applications for jujutsu sorcerers are enormous. Have you considered teaching this?"

"Eventually," you admit. "But I want to perfect it first. There are... side effects I'm still working out."

"Side effects?" Satoru's voice sharpens with concern. "What kind of side effects?"

You hesitate, debating how much to reveal. His intensity has always made you want to both confide in him and shield yourself from him.

"Nothing dangerous," you assure him, turning back to your workbench. "Just... the balance is delicate. When I reverse decay too quickly, it sometimes creates an energy deficit that has to be filled."

"Filled from where?" he presses, moving closer.

You sigh, knowing he won't let this go. "From me, usually. I feel drained afterward. Sometimes dizzy, sometimes worse. But I'm learning to modulate it better."

Satoru's expression darkens. "And you're going after a decay-feeding spirit alone? With this technique that drains you?"

"I don't plan to use the reversal technique on the mission unless absolutely necessary," you say firmly. "My regular decay acceleration works fine for combat. Better, actually."

“You’re not telling me everything about these side effects.”

With a sigh, you roll up your sleeve, revealing a network of faint dark veins running from your wrist to your elbow. They pulse slightly, like the blue veins in the corpse lilies.

"The decay has to go somewhere," you explain quietly. "When I reverse it, I have to channel it through my own body first. I'm working on a technique to disperse it more effectively, but for now..." You shrug, pulling your sleeve back down.

Satoru's expression darkens. He reaches for your arm, but you step back.

"It's not as bad as it looks," you insist. "And it fades after a few days."

"You're absorbing death into yourself," he says flatly, eyes narrowed. "And you didn't think to mention this?"

"I'm handling it," you reply, matching his tone. "This is exactly why I didn't tell you. I knew you'd overreact."

"Overreact?" Satoru's voice remains controlled, but the temperature in the greenhouse seems to drop several degrees. "You're poisoning yourself with cursed energy, and I'm overreacting?"

"It's my technique, Satoru. My body. My choice."

He runs a hand through his white hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "And what happens when you absorb too much? When the decay doesn't fade?"

You turn away, focusing on your plants. "That won't happen."

"You don't know that."

"Actually, I do." You face him again, chin raised defiantly. "I've been studying this for years while you've been off playing the untouchable god. I understand the risks better than anyone."

The accusation hits its mark. Satoru's expression flickers with something that might be hurt before smoothing into careful neutrality.

"Is that what you think I've been doing? Playing god?"

You sigh, suddenly tired. "No. That's not fair. I know what you do is important."

"So is this," he gestures to your arm. "So are you."

He studies you with those piercing blue eyes that always make you feel transparent. "Promise me something."

"What?"

"If you get in over your head—"

"I won't."

"If you do," he continues, "call me. I can be in Kyoto in seconds."

The concern in his voice makes something in your chest ache. You want to bristle at his protectiveness, but there's something different about it now—less controlling, more partnership.

"Fine," you concede. "But only as an absolute last resort."

Satoru relaxes visibly. "That's all I ask."

You turn back to your plants, aware of him watching you work. His presence used to make you nervous, but now there's a comfortable familiarity to it, despite everything that's happened between you.

"You know," he says after a while, his voice thoughtful, "your technique has evolved in ways mine can't."

You look up, surprised by the admission. "What do you mean?"

"Infinity is... static," he explains, gesturing vaguely. "Powerful, but unchanging in its fundamental nature. Your ability to both accelerate decay and now reverse it—that's growth. Evolution."

The compliment warms you more than you'd like to admit. "It's not a competition, Satoru."

"Everything's a competition," he says with a grin, but then his expression softens. "But seriously, I'm impressed. You've come a long way from that shy kid who was afraid to touch anything because it might rot."

Memories flood back—your tears when you accidentally killed your first houseplant, Satoru holding your hands and telling you it wasn't your fault. How far you've both come since then.

"We both have," you say quietly.

The afternoon sun slants lower through the greenhouse windows, casting long shadows across the floor. Time seems suspended in this quiet space, filled with the scent of earth and growing things.

Satoru watches your hands move among the plants with practiced precision, a strange ache building in his chest. "Do you remember," he asks suddenly, "that weekend at my parents' lake house? When we were what, nineteen?"

You don't look up, but your hands pause briefly. "When you convinced me to try using my decay on the algae in the lake?"

"And it worked," he says, smiling at the memory. "You cleared that whole cove in minutes."

"And then panicked because I killed all the fish too," you remind him, but there's a hint of amusement in your voice.

"But then you cried for hours," Satoru continues, moving closer. "Until Suguru showed us the fish had just moved to the deeper water."

You shake your head, finally meeting his gaze. "I was so scared of my own power back then."

"And now look at you," he says softly. "Creating life instead of just taking it away."

The greenhouse falls silent except for the gentle hiss of the misting system. 

"I keep preparing for the mission," you say, breaking the moment.

Satoru nods, stepping back. "Monday. I'll come by at six. For our very platonic walk to the station."

"Five-thirty," you correct him. "The train leaves at six-fifteen."

You try to ignore your blush. Platonic. All of your time alone together in his apartment has been anything but.

He grins. "Five-thirty it is."

As he turns to leave, you call after him: "Satoru?"

He pauses at the door, looking back.

"Thank you. For not insisting on coming with me."

His smile turns softer, more genuine than his usual cocky grin. "You're welcome, Twigs."

After he's gone, you press a hand to your chest, feeling your heartbeat beneath your palm. The corpse lilies pulse in rhythm with it, their blue veins glowing slightly brighter in the dimming light.

You look down at your arm, pulling back the sleeve to examine the dark veins spreading beneath your skin. They've grown since this morning—a fact you carefully concealed from Satoru. The reversal technique is taking more from you each time, but the potential benefits are too great to stop now.

"Just a little longer," you whisper to yourself, touching one of the corpse lilies gently. "Just until I perfect it."

Outside the greenhouse, Satoru leans against the wall, his confident posture gone. He stares at his hand, remembering the darkness he glimpsed spreading under your skin. He's seen cursed techniques consume their users before—seen talented sorcerers destroyed by their own power.

He won't let that happen to you. Not even if it means letting you go to Kyoto alone.

Not even if it means watching from a distance, ready to step in only if absolutely necessary.

Not even if it kills him to wait.

__

Satoru surprises you the night before you leave by showing up to your apartment. He doesn’t often leave the kids alone, but neither Tsumiki nor Megumi are particularly rebels. He’d left them in their shared room, a Ghibli movie playing on the TV while they drifted off to sleep.

“You could still use the door,” you scoff when you sense his presence. He laughs and puts a hand on your shoulder, his other one running through your hair in a way that makes your body heat up.

“But I don’t have to. Surprise.”

You snort. “What do you want? I’m trying to pack here.”

He pulls you closer, his arms around your waist. “Just wanted to see you again.”

“Well, my night time routine is pretty boring.”

“Nothing about you is boring, baby. I could watch you brush your teeth for hours.”

“Now that’s a lie.”

"Is it?" Satoru's voice drops lower, his breath warm against your ear. He spins you around to face him, those blue eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip. "What if I told you I've memorized every little thing you do? The way you always start with the left side of your mouth when you brush. How you fold your clothes in perfect thirds before putting them in your suitcase."

You try to look away, but his fingers catch your chin. "Stop it," you mutter, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. The dark veins in your arm throb painfully.

"Let me see," he says suddenly, reaching for your sleeve.

You jerk back. "It's nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Twigs. Not about this." His playfulness has vanished, replaced by something harder, more desperate. "I saw it earlier."

"It's under control."

"Is it? Because it looks like it's spreading." His fingers hover over your arm, not quite touching.

The blackened veins have spread further, now reaching your elbow in intricate, web-like patterns. His expression doesn't change, but the temperature in the room drops several degrees.

"It's taking too much from you."

You pull away completely, turning back to your half-packed suitcase. "I don't need your concern, Satoru. I need your respect. This is my choice."

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken fears. When he speaks again, his voice is uncharacteristically quiet.

"What happens when there's nothing left to take?"

The question hangs in the air. You've asked yourself the same thing during sleepless nights, watching the darkness crawl beneath your skin. But admitting that fear would mean admitting failure, and you can't—won't—do that.

"I'll find a balance," you say finally. "The corpse lilies are helping me understand the decay cycle. If I can master the reversal at the cellular level—"

"Theory won't matter if you're dead," he cuts in, an edge to his voice.

You slam the suitcase shut. "I'm not having this conversation again."

"Fine." He runs a hand through his white hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "But… are you sure you don’t want me to come–"

"We've been over this. I need to do this alone."

Satoru watches you for a long moment, his usually playful demeanor completely gone. "Kyoto has strong curse concentrations right now. You'll be vulnerable if—"

"I'm stronger than I was before," you cut him off. "I'm not that helpless girl anymore."

His expression softens slightly. "I never thought you were helpless. But even the strongest sorcerers need backup sometimes."

You zip your suitcase closed with finality. "Then I'll call if I need you."

"You won't call." It's not an accusation but a simple statement of fact. He knows you too well.

You avoid his gaze, focusing instead on checking your supplies. The small vials of preservation fluid catch the light, their contents shifting with an unnatural shimmer. Each one represents hours of work, experiments conducted in the darkness when pain keeps you from sleep.

"Maybe I won't need to," you reply, arranging the vials methodically in your case. Each one glows with a faint, sickly luminescence—evidence of your progress, despite what Satoru believes.

He moves closer, and you feel the familiar pull of his presence. It's always been this way—like gravity shifting when he enters a room. You steel yourself against it.

"Those veins have spread," he observes, his fingers hovering above your forearm without touching. The dark lines have indeed crept higher, branching like river deltas toward your heart. "Shoko mentioned you've been skipping check-ins."

You snap the case closed. "Shoko talks too much."

"She's worried. We both are."

"I don't need your worry," you say, but the words lack conviction. The truth is more complicated—his concern both irritates and comforts you in ways you're not ready to examine.

Outside, thunder rumbles. The storm that's been threatening all day is finally breaking. It matches your mood perfectly.

"The Kyoto branch isn't expecting you," Satoru says, changing tactics. "I checked."

You stiffen. "You're monitoring my communications now?"

"When you're being reckless? Yes." He doesn't apologize, doesn't even look remotely guilty. "The corpse lily experiments are banned for a reason. If the higher-ups find out—"

"They won't," you interrupt, turning to face him fully. "Unless someone tells them."

The accusation hangs between you. For a moment, hurt flashes across his face before his expression hardens.

"You think I'd betray you like that?"

"I think you'd do whatever you believe is necessary to protect me," you say quietly. "Even from myself."

Rain begins to lash against the windows, casting wavering shadows across the room. In the half-light, the veins on your arm seem to pulse with each thunderclap.

Satoru moves to the window, his silhouette stark against the storm-dark sky. "You remember what happened to Amanai," he says finally. "How it felt to watch someone fade away and be powerless to stop it."

The mention of Riko Amanai sends a cold spike through your chest. Of course you remember. How could you forget the blood, the screams, the way her technique had consumed her from within before the end?

"This isn't the same," you whisper, but uncertainty creeps in. The comparison is too close for comfort.

"Isn't it?" He turns back to you, blue eyes intense. "Your technique feeds on you. Every time you use it, you give away a piece of yourself."

You look down at your arm, at the network of dark veins that map your sacrifice. Each one a testament to power gained through something surrendered.

"That's the price," you say, flexing your fingers and watching the dark lines shift beneath your skin. "Every technique has one. Even yours."

Satoru's jaw tightens. You've struck a nerve.

"Mine doesn't threaten to hollow me out from the inside," he says, voice low. "Yours is different. It's... hungry."

You've felt it too—the slow, creeping emptiness that follows each use of your technique, as if something essential is being siphoned away. But you've also felt the power, the rush of connection to something vast and ancient that makes the sacrifice seem worth it.

"I'm close to understanding the reversal," you tell him, softer now. "If I can master it, I can heal what's taken. Balance the equation."

Lightning flashes, illuminating Satoru's face. For a brief moment, his carefully constructed mask slips, and you glimpse the raw fear beneath.

"And if you can't?" he asks.

“Then, I’ll deal with the consequences.”

Satoru sighs. There’s no point in arguing with you further. He moves closer to you, running his fingers through your hair affectionately. You hate how much it makes your core throb with heat. You almost preen to this touch.

"You can't deal with consequences if you're gone," he murmurs, his fingers lingering against your scalp. Despite yourself, you lean into his touch, craving the warmth that bleeds from his fingertips.

The dark veins on your arm pulse in response, as if jealous of this connection. A sharp sting radiates up to your shoulder, and you pull away with a wince.

Satoru notices immediately. "It's getting worse."

"It fluctuates," you say dismissively, though you both know it's a lie. The veins have spread past your elbow now, creeping toward your heart with each passing week.

Rain lashes against the windows of your apartment, the rhythm matching the throbbing in your arm. Outside, Tokyo glitters beneath storm clouds, oblivious to the battle waging within your flesh.

"Let me see it," Satoru says, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You hesitate, then slowly roll up your sleeve. The veins have darkened since he last saw them, now a deep violet-black that seems to absorb light. They pulse with a rhythm that doesn't match your heartbeat.

Satoru kneels before you, taking your arm in his hands. His touch is clinical now, professional, though his eyes betray his concern. "The pattern's changed," he observes. "It's forming a circuit."

You've noticed it too—the way the veins are no longer spreading randomly but creating deliberate pathways across your skin. "It's adapting," you say. "Learning."

"Learning what, exactly?" Satoru's eyes meet yours, searching.

The question hangs between you, unanswered. The truth is, you don't know. You only understand that each time you use your technique, the veins respond, as if they're recording information, storing it within your flesh.

His expression is crumbled, his bottom heavy with a pout he tries to contain. He looks away, then rubs his thumb over your wrist. He leans down and kisses a vein.

"Don't," you whisper, but make no move to pull away.

His lips are cool against your fevered skin, and something inside you stirs—not just desire, but the thing that lives in your veins now. It writhes beneath his touch, curious and hungry. You feel it reaching toward him, and panic floods your system.

“What’s this?”

"It's... reactive to you."

A flash of lightning illuminates his face, revealing a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Of course it is. Everything about you has always reacted to me."

"That's not what I mean," you say, finally pulling your arm away. The moment his lips leave your skin, the veins seem to calm, settling into their unsettling rhythm once more. "It's different. Like it recognizes you."

Satoru's eyes narrow, that brilliant blue catching the storm light. "Interesting. What else does it recognize?"

You stand and move to the window, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. The rain forms rivulets that mirror the patterns on your arm. "Everything. Nothing. I don't know, Satoru. Sometimes it feels like it's... cataloging. Cursed energy, emotions, intent."

Behind you, he's silent for so long you think he might have left. Then his reflection appears beside yours in the window, his height dwarfing you. “I’ll give it something important, then.”

“Sato—”

You’re interrupted by him, the softness of his mouth melting into the seam of yours.

The kiss is gentle at first, almost hesitant—so unlike him that it startles you more than any forceful gesture could. Then his hands find your waist, and the gentleness gives way to something more familiar, more desperate. Your veins pulse in time with your racing heart, dark tendrils crawling up your neck in response.

The kiss is like electricity, a current that runs from his lips straight to the veins in your arm. They pulse violently, glowing with a faint blue luminescence that matches his eyes. You gasp against his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, one hand cupping your face while the other finds your wrist again, his thumb pressing against your pulse point.

You wrench away, panting. The blue glow beneath your skin intensifies, spreading up your shoulder and flaring across your collarbone like a spiderweb of light.

"Satoru, stop." Your voice trembles. "Something's happening."

His eyes are transfixed on the pattern that now crawls across your chest, his expression a strange mixture of fascination and concern. "It's beautiful," he whispers, reaching out.

You back away. "It hurts."

That snaps him to attention. The playfulness vanishes from his face, replaced by something harder, more focused. "Tell me exactly what you feel."

"Like it's... recording you. Saving you." You clutch your arm to your chest, the veins pulsing in time with your heartbeat. "It's never done this before."

Thunder crashes outside, and the lights flicker. In that momentary darkness, your veins cast eerie shadows across the walls.

"Your technique is evolving," he says, voice low and serious in a way that makes your stomach clench. "It's not just reversing anymore, is it? It's... adapting."

Lightning flashes again, casting harsh shadows acrossl face. In that instant, he looks almost frightened—an expression so foreign on him that you reach out instinctively.

"I don't know what's happening to me," you admit. "Sometimes I feel like I'm losing myself to it."

Satoru's grip on your wrist tightens, his thumb pressing into your pulse point. "You're not losing yourself. You're becoming something else. Something more."

Your eyes flutter as you surrender to his touch. You’ve gotten better at saying no. With Satoru, it’s the first word that’s come to your head when you see him in person. It’s not fair, maybe, with how much he adores you. How good he’s been.

“You’re so good,” he drawls. “Always something otherworldly, baby.”

You let yourself let go, just this once. His mouth is on your neck and you can’t really think of anything else.

His lips move against your skin, and for a moment, the pain recedes. It's always been like this with him—the world narrows to just the two of you, everything else fading to background noise. But the relief is fleeting. The veins pulse again, more insistent this time, and you gasp.

"Satoru, wait—"

He pulls back immediately, blue eyes searching yours. The darkness of the room only makes them more striking, like ice catching moonlight. "What is it?"

"I don't think we should be doing this right now." Your voice is barely above a whisper. The veins are spreading faster now, creeping up your neck. Each new inch feels like ice water in your veins. "It's... reacting to you. To us."

A storm rages outside, but the one brewing inside you feels more dangerous. Satoru's expression shifts, that rare vulnerability replaced by calculation. He's analyzing you, the way he does with powerful curses or complex techniques.

“Is it making you feel good?” he whispers.

“Yes,” you whisper.

"Then don't fight it," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the dark veins with reverence. "Let it come."

The sensation is overwhelming—his touch against your cursed skin sending electric currents through your body. Your technique responds, the blue glow intensifying as if recognizing him, wanting him. The veins pulse in rhythm with your heartbeat, each throb a mixture of pleasure and pain so intense you can barely distinguish between them.

Satoru's fingers trace the dark patterns on your skin, following them up your arm to your collarbone. The veins pulse beneath his touch, as if responding to him directly. You shiver, feeling the strange energy inside you surge toward his fingertips like iron to a magnet.

The veins spread further, creeping across your collarbone, threading beneath the thin fabric of your shirt. You feel yourself changing, cellular memories rearranging, your cursed energy intertwining with something ancient and hungry.

Your back arches involuntarily as a surge of power courses through you. The room darkens, shadows stretching unnaturally across the walls. Outside, the storm intensifies, lightning illuminating the room in staccato flashes that reveal Satoru's face—fascinated, possessive, and something else. Something you've rarely seen there.

He kisses you and every tendril in your body electrifies. You kiss him back with more fervor than you anticipate and he moans.

You’re the one who initiates, surprisingly. You have your hands all over him, grazing the hardness tightening in his lap. He moans when you touch him. You keep touching him, knowing what makes him tick while he uselessly attempts to nip at your neck.

Your movements feel like autopilot. All automatic motions towards the next path of evolution.

Nonetheless, Satoru moans under your touch. Revels in the way your mouth feels against his skin.

Your fingertips trace the contours of his chest, leaving faint blue luminescent trails in their wake. The veins have spread further now, wrapping around your shoulders like dark vines, pulsing with each accelerated heartbeat. You should be terrified—this transformation is unprecedented, dangerous—but with Satoru here, his presence anchoring you, the fear dissolves into exhilaration.

"It's like it knows you," you breathe, watching how the cursed energy responds to him, reaching out when he's near, retreating when he pulls away. "Like it's always known you."

Thunder crashes outside, and the lights flicker, plunging the room momentarily into darkness before returning. In that split second, you see something else in the shadows—shapes moving, watching, drawn to the power emanating from your body.

"Maybe because you’ve always known me,” he mumbles.

You hum as you close your eyes, feeling the warmth in your veins. His proximity makes your skin feel electric along with whatever curse is inside of you. It gives you a heady feeling. You’re often needy with him, but this feels like a new beast.

He slowly removes your sleep shirt from you, eyes widening when he sees your skin. He’s always adored your body – every freckle, every stretch mark. With his Six Eyes, he sees you more vividly than anyone else can. When he undresses you to complete bareness, it’s like you’re glowing. 

“Satoru,” you gasp.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Touch me.”

He does. He should be more concerned, he knows this, but he feels spellbound. Your body is glowing and it’s beckoning him like a ship to a lighthouse. His hands are all over you – caressing soft skin and electric veins. He can feel your pulse thumping in tandem with his, his cock warm and throbbing at the same time. 

His fingers dive into your heat. You’re already wet. 

He groans at the sensation, pressing his face into your throat as he revels in the hummed vibrations of your moans. The more he touches you, the hotter you feel. His fingers disappearing into your cunt, melting him. Such a ripe girl – as soft as you were when he’d first fucked you.

You come without warning, thighs shivering. It’s so fast that it takes Satoru a second to recognize it. He has to wipe the drool from his mouth as he watches. 

He’s frantic when he takes you. It’s easy. His cock nudges into your cunt – when had you undressed him? Suddenly, he’s bare all over, skin to skin with you. He’s drunk on lust, sharing your delirium. He slams his cock into you quick but deep. Widens his eyes at the way you look like you were born from the moon. 

It feels way too fucking good. You always feel too good, he realizes, but this is something entirely different. Something out of his fantasies and wet dreams. You don’t even feel real to him right now. 

He can’t stop. All the sounds you make encourage him. He nearly forgets himself when he’s inside you. Magical girl. When he’s with you like this, he is no longer the strongest. Just a weak man in love.

Sometimes it makes him feel rotten. The feeling in his stomach is hot and syrupy, too sticky to get rid of. He groans as he fucks you, kissing the corner of your mouth and licking the side of your jaw. Too sweet, all of you.

Every plunge into your pussy makes you jump – he can feel it in your pulse. His eyelids dip as he pulls back to look at your face. Mouth parted, cherubic. Sweat clings to you like a second skin and Satoru has the urge to clean you with his tongue.

“F-Fuck,” he gasps, “How do you feel so fucking good?”

You attempt to reply but it comes out in nonsensical babbles. You’re too distracted from being loosened by him, your insides fluxing. Tightening on reflex and making him groan like an animal.

“Like that,” you whisper, eyes rolling back, “Keep going like that–”

Satoru swears he sees your pulse in motion right beneath your skin. Glowing like lightning against an inky sky. It can’t be real. Feels too psychedelic. When you clench around him, his eyes are all over you, watching you cum as your eyes roll back into your head.

His stomach twists into something akin to pleasure and longing. 

He applies pressure to your clit with his fingers and sees it again – your whole heart jumping with arousal. 

Your hips cant up to meet his thrusts, getting him so deep that he whimpers. 

“Gonna cum, baby –”

Every slam of his hips brings you towards the edge. You squeeze him until it’s all over, until he’s flooding you with warmth. There’s white hair in your mouth from him burying his nose into your neck. Breathing in your skin.

You gasp in pleasure, the feeling of him too heady. The way Satoru hums into your collarbone makes your cunt throb again. 

You blink your eyes open and there’s rouge all over his cheeks. He looks at you like he’s falling in love for the first time.

“Dunno if I’ll be able to let you go tomorrow morning,” Satoru sighs, pulling out gently and grunting.

“You have to,” you hum. “You’ve done it before.”

Satoru says nothing in response, only nods. He has nothing to argue about, but feelings of anxiety still pool in the place right below his lungs. Instinct is what keeps you so close to him. Without it, he only feels lost.

“Yeah,” he breathes, nodding slightly. His past boyish self wants to argue. “I have.”

[fazfuri]

OHH, back here again, So ready for my round of weird and unnecessarily long questions??? bc I simply CAN'T summarize, God is a huge flaw. But well. I swear I'll take a break later so I don't clutter ur Tumblrs. Ok

So, since we're talking about "DEITYSHINE" (I'll call it that, I hope u don't mind pls). So my questions are:

During the time deity shared moments with the king—as depicted in the comic, f examp—was he also visible to the rest of the palace staff and other mortals? (We know children could see him in dreams, according to another animation.) But were adults also able to perceive his presence? If so, were they aware that the king had direct contact with a deity? Did they interact with him as well? Did they worship him in some way, as if he were a cult?

[I'm very intrigued to know this… especially since I wouldn't know how to react if I were to find out that others had also benefited from the deity's kindness in the same way as the king]

To finish, this might not count as a question at all, but more as a HC… but it goes like this: considering the obvious relationship between the king and deity- (Note: this idea came from a scene in the "WOFM" animation, where the king seems to be attending to royal affairs while deity watches him from afar with an adorable and playful expression, as if lovingly watching over him—I'm not sharing the image to maintain anonymity, haha), I was wondering the following:

Given that the king, due to his position, surely had to interact with many people of different ranks—commoners, nobles, and even princesses—is it possible that at some point he had some kind of connection or flirtation with any of them? If so, would the deity have been jealous of his "Starshine"? personally, I can perfectly imagine him playfully flirting just to see how his "Lord" would react, I have no proof but no doubts either (so consider it a HC if it's not canon in ur AU). Could Deity have watched him more cautiously, even a little uneasy? After all, kings often have formal meetings with other royal figures, don't they? And with "Starshine" being so attractive, I imagine it even more likely. I love imagining Deity jealous, confused, and then confronting him with some reproach for his "boldness," while the king defends himself with some mischievous or charming response.

[Haha, okay, I think that's enough for today; that's the problem with having a fanatical basicwriter from ur AU. OkOk, Bye]

1. Oh he's definitely visible alright, he has a physical body from the start. People loved him, worshipped him, built altars, created a religion (Patreon/Kofi exclusive explains it), and even hosted festivals for him.

2. Hahaha...

[rinhaler]

ur stepdad!gojo and uncle nanami fic got me feeling things so much so i felt the need to go into anon to confess bc im just so feral for this idea LMAO

ik ur not taking requests, and this isnt really a request but i just wanna leave this here as a lil tidbit or lil scenario bc ur fics had my mind running and i have nowhere to put it, and you can do with it as you wish, but here:

reader being a camgirl as a way to earn extra money to buy nice shit (should be paying for school but lmao) ofc, this doesnt go unnoticed by stepdaddy gojo and uncle nanami. They question where youre getting the money to buy all this cute shit, and ofc u make up an excuse, but they dont buy it.

gojo or nanami, could be either one, stumble upon your little…. “operation” one night, totally by accident while trying to get their rocks off.

they confront you about it, and perhaps they both tag team you at the same time while youre “working”, on camera for all to see. and you make SO MUCH MONEYfrom just that one night 👀

do with this as you will, just felt the need to drop this here hehe >:3

-simp anon 🐚🩷🍬

BABE I'M SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO ANSWER BC I'M AN IDIOT AND TOTALLY DIDN'T PROCESS THE "THIS ISN'T A REQUEST PART" 😭😭😭

when i tell u when i first got this ask my jaw was on the FLOOR

I honestly don't know which idea I like better? The thought of them both accidentally coming across you doing a show and perving over it is so hot. Maybe Nanami finds it first and doesn't immediately tell your step daddy. He has to jerk off to it first?? He's a little taken aback by how confident you are considering how shy and seemingly innocent you are in person.

And I know Gojo is going to be teasing Nanami about being on a cam girl site.

"How did you find this, huh, Nanami?" completely winding him up with a smirk on his face that Nanami just has to ignore.

You aren't live when he shows your step daddy. He just shows him your profile. They both act clueless when you get home from college, saying your hellos and goodbyes as you go up to your room to study. (meanwhile you're actually just doing your makeup and picking what lingerie to wear to your stream).

They both hang out in the kitchen until your mother goes to bed, telling her they're just having a nightcap before her dear brother hits to road.

And then you're live, the audio playing quietly as you perform. Gojo is so surprised to see you like this but he just can't ignore the tent he feels forming in his pants.

They decide to interrupt your little show, and your viewers take note of how good your acting is! Plus the whole step-cest angle is really hot.

You make the most money you've ever made thanks to them double stuffing you and pumping you with so many loads you can barely see straight 💗

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

hi, i got a request if thats alright <3

its lee! lee know and ler! skz (mostly extremely extremely rough tickles but also a bit soft)

basically ler! skz finds out lee knows armpits, armpits, belly button, and v line are his worst spot/some of his worst spots so they restrain him with bondage and absolutely wreck him and tickle him like crazy in those spots with a variety of methods (with tools like hair brushes, paint brushes, feathers, massagers, electric pen thingy, electric tickle devices, and those tickle glove things and just fingers/raspberries) and after awhile of tickling him with all those + raspberries, for a final blow before he taps out, they use all the tools at once in those spots (other spots too if u want) while also tickling him with their fingers and blowing raspberries like crazy until his laughter goes silent

if you do decide to do this, then ty <3 just dont overwork yourself and take as long as you need! 

𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙮:

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: I’ll update this a bit later bc my word counter site is down rn

tw: THIS IS SO ROUGH. BEWARE. there is use of tools, raspberries, rough tickling, teasing, lots and lots of tears, mentions of prolonged tickling, a teensy bit of angst…I promise y’all a soft fic will come soon :3

𝙖/𝙣: yes it is very me to put a soft moodboard for a rough fic 🎀

𝒍𝒆𝒆: minho

𝙡𝙚𝙧: skz

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117 @minnielvrr @bamgyuuu-2001

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

Dear Diary,

I have no idea why I'm thinking this way today, but I seriously need to be tickled. Seriously need to be tickled. I've been feeling so, lee I guess? It's kind of pathetic that I should admit it, considering I always have the others beneath my thumb, but here it is anyway. I don't want to make it sound like I always need it, but when the urge strikes, man does it strike hard. I fucking hate it. I don't even know what's gotten into me, but I just can't think about anything other than my worst areas.  As soon as anyone even glances anywhere near them, I feel this strange, fluttery sensation in my belly, and I'm laughing before they even lay a hand on me. It's like my body anticipates what's about to happen and just surrenders before I can even stop it. Each time I even think about it, I can so tingly, as if they're already preparing for the worst.

It's a lot to deal with, but. a part of me actually really wants someone to just destroy me there. Perhaps even all the members, like, all ganging up on me at the same time. WHAT YOU DIDNT SEE ANYTHING. But then I would likely die from laughing, and I'd never ever confess it. I'd rather suffer any other punishment, anything Chan hyung would ever throw at me,  than explain to anyone how much I need to be tickled like that. And then there's my...you know...my belly button. Don't even get me started. I could practically feel the entire body tingling just thinking about it. I don't know why it's so sensitive there, but it is. It's like… it's not only the skin, but all that's around it that makes it feel so sharp. If someone even brushes against that place—just touches it—it's like a switch flips on inside of me, and I'm already laughing before I know it's happening.

And don't even get me started on blowing raspberries into it. That's the very worst. It's like my entire body just short circuits and I can't catch my breath because it's just too much. Honestly, I want it so badly, and I don't know why, but I'd rather choke on my own shame than let anyone know how much I'd adore just… letting someone go crazy there. I'm not ready to let anyone in on how weak I am when it comes to my belly button. That would be so humiliating. I just can't forget my v-line. That like, area, is major tickle spot. The moment someone even looks at it, I just go off. The notion of someone tracing their fingers up and down there makes my mind go blank and I start to turn very red, and not the positive kind either. It's just that bad, and I don't even know why I find it so…ticklish. And I can’t believe I’m even thinking about it, because the thought of someone targeting that area with intent makes me want to crawl into a hole and never come out. I know I sound crazy right now. I do. Honestly, I’m sitting here and wondering if I should even write all of this down. But it feels better to get it out. At least in the diary, I don't have the feeling like anyone can taunt me. Particularly not Channie—God, if he had a clue how bad I wanted him to gang together with everyone else and destroy me, I never would hear an end of it. He'd probably find it amusing, and that's exactly what I need less. The final thing. He already teases me enough. I don't even know what he'd do if he knew what was happening in my mind. Anyway, I guess I should maybe stop thinking about this before I get even more embarrassed. But… yeah, I'll own up to it. I want it. I really do. Just...don't tell anyone.

Seungmin gaped at the diary entry, mouth open and jaw dropped as he reread the last few lines again and again. His hyung…was in a lee mood?

Seung couldn’t believe it. Of course, he didn’t take Minho’s diary to invade the loser’s privacy, more like he had no idea what the little book was and accidentally flipped to the last page written and was automatically drawn to the familiar scrawl on the page.

All of a sudden, the most mischievous smile he had ever had began to grow on his face.

“CHAAAANNNN HYUUUUUUNNNGGGG!!”

Chan burst through the door, out of breath and the most terrified expression on his face. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?! Something’s wrong, you called me hyung, there’s no way—Oh…” His sentence was unfinished as Seung stuck the diary under Chan’s nose.

…

“Oh Minho-yah~”

Minho arrived home after the most atrocious dance practice with some trainees, stretching his arms out and sighing as he dropped his bag near the couch and kicked his shoes off.

He didn’t wait for anyone to greet him, but the sudden urge to just run to someone and provoke them, or just downright tell them to just wreck him until he sees stars, was becoming too much to handle. Minho didn’t know how much more he could take.

But what he didn’t expect at all was being hoisted into the air by a certain bunny. “Changbin!” Minho hissed loudly, “What are you doing?”

”Ohhhh, you’ll find out, hyung~”

And Minho had to admit, he was kinda curious as to what Binnie was up to. So he let himself be carried right into Chan’s room. His heart leapt into his throat and he gulped down his excitement at the expression on Channie’s face. Mischievous, with that certain glint in his eye that let Min know he was gonna get wrecked. And boy was he excited for it. Minho was dumped very unceremoniously onto the bed and surrounded by seven gleeful members, who silently grabbed his arms and legs and tied them down as softly as they could, and all Minho could do was squeeze his eyes shut and whine half-heartedly as his shirt was being untucked.

“Come on…you really don’t have to…just let me gooo—”

“Quit the act, hyung. We all know you really want this, so shut up and take it.” Jeongin laughed as Minho’s lips squeezed shut and his face was red instantly. Humbled in an instant.

Hyunjin grinned beside him as he set some tools on the bed. An electric toothbrush, some feathers, massagers, and a pair of gloves that looked more like medieval torture devices.

Minho couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped his lips. But his heart raced into excitement as two very gentle hands closed over his eyes, clouding his vision and senses with the smell of cheesecake.

Minho gasped as something very cold dripped onto his stomach and he squeaked and bit his lip as it was spread around. Okay, this is fine—everything’s fine.

Suddenly, it seemed as though the members have decided to just abandon the idea of his shirt entirely. “Hey!” Minho yelped, but the feeling of hands at his sides made him shrink back again.

“You ready to be wrecked harder than ever, Minho?” Chan’s teasing, honey like voice floated above him, and before Minho could stop himself, he found himself nodding. The cooing and teasing that followed was almost unbearable.

Everything was still for a little while, with Jisung’s hands still over his eyes. Minho appreciated that—Sung knew how much he hated blindfolds. It also saved him the embarrassment of having to maintain eye contact with the others.

Then Chan began assigning roles. Minho whined, the urge to just yell at them to start was starting to weight him down heavily.

Then he heard exactly what was gonna happen to him.

"Okayyyy, so Hyunjin, you get paintbrushes, Lixie gets the massagers, Seungmin, you get the gloves… Changbinnie you get the—hmmmm, how about the feathers?” Chan hummed, settling onto Minho’s hips. “Innie you can use your fingers, you’re good at that, and Sungie is there to make sure Minho doesn’t faint, got it?”

Minho whimpered at the thought that there had to be a member who kept him from fainting. However, he was drowned out by the chorus of cheering and the sudden sensation of hands descending onto his sensitive, anticipation-ridden body.

The sensation was horribly ticklish. Minho grit his teeth and arched his back as high as he could as fingers kneaded into his oiled sides, and he could feel Chan’s gentle thumb circling his belly button and nearly choked on his own scream. Changbin was happily teasing the feathers around Minho’s ears, while massagers were circling his belly, courtesy of Felix.

Minho’s eyes watered instantly, and he couldn’t believe the volume of the laughter that burst out of him, along with the very embarrassingly high pitched squeal that he let out as Chan’s thumb finally stopped teasing and entered his belly button.

“AHHH!!” Minho screeched, “OHMYGOHOHOHOHOHHOHOHOHOOD!! OHMYGOD SLOW DOHOHOHOHOWN!!”

Minho’s entire mind went positively blank as he felt two very mischievous thumbs drilling into his armpits, as rough as possible. “JEONGIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIN!! NGHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH—STOP STOP STAHAHAHAHAHAAAHA!!”

“Awwwww, does it tickle?” Chan teased, his eyes fond as Minho squealed loudly and bucked up and down under the barrage of fingers tickling him.

Then Seungmin got involved and Minho felt like he was gonna ascend. “Ohhh, did I find a good spot?” Gloved thumbs digging into his lower belly, the soft but spiky feeling of those gloves sending poor Minho into a squealing frenzy, much to the others’ amusement.

“He’s so cute!” Jisung laughed from above Minho, who was now beginning to cackle so hard his stomach ached and it was uncontrollable.

But it was exactly what he wanted. Fingers everywhere, Chan’s thumb in his belly button while the rest of his fingers spidered along Minho’s sides, and so many tools everywhere. Seungmin had now flattened his hands and was using his palms to drag the bristles along the sensitive skin of Minho’s v-line.

“OHOHOHOHOH MY—OHMYGOSHHHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA!!” Minho howled. He could feel himself start to shake, his whole body trembling with the excess laughter as they began to switch spots. The gloves were now scrubbing at his armpits, and Minho was deemed completely helpless due to the restraints keeping his arms up entirely.

The second Jeongin’s nails switched to his v-line, dragging along the taut skin, Minho was so absolutely, completely gone. “Did I find another tickle spot?”

Minho let out another infamous squeal, his voice so high pitched at this point it didn’t even sound like him anymore. “YEEHEHEHEHEHES!! YES IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES SO BAHAHAHAHAHAHA—” Amd then it was quiet. Minho grit his teeth, screaming silently and bucking up and down as hard as he could, but it was fruitless. He was laughing so hard, and now he was completely silent.

“You’re usually so tough, aren’t you? And now you can’t even beg anymore~” Changbin’s voice drifted from above him, but Minho could barely register it in his haze of ticklishness.

“How much does this tickle on a scale of one to ten?” Seungmin asked in a mocking tone, his gloves hands now switching to his bristled thumbs rubbing torturous circles into the skin, watching Minho howl, his back arching as his grin stretched so wide and so adorably. Mouthing the word “TEHEHEHEHEN” over and over, but unable to form a sound

“He’s smiling so hard~” Hyunjin commented, grinning as he swirled his brush around Min’s belly button, making the kitten choke on another screech.

And with a loud, prolonged, frustrated screech of helpless laughter, Minho’s voice was back, squeaky and loud and desperate as he laughed himself silly…again and again and again with no end.

But he knew he loved it. And the others knew he loved it too.

“Awh, isn’t this exactly what you imagined in your cute little diary entry? Isn’t it what he imagined?” Chan asked, and laughed as Minho shot up all over again, his eyes wide and frantic and horrified. It was adorable.

“NOHOHOHOHO YOU DIDNT!! YOU DIHIHIHIHIDN’T!!” Minho screamed, his face the picture of adorable helplessness.

“Oh, we did~”

“THATS NOT FAIR—You can’t look through my—DIAAAHAHAAHAHAHHAAAA!!” Minho’s words weee gone the minute Chan went for his ribs, while the others continued their little attack on his ticklish spots.

“Uh—he looks ready to pass out, guys…” Jisung calls, fondly wiping the tears slipping down Minho’s face as the older screeched out a final “STOHOHOHOHOP!!”

And it did stop. Thank goodness. The tears didn’t, however.

Minho’s face crumpled as he buried his face into a pillow. And then the others realized they may have taken it a step too far to mention his diary.

Seungmin pulled Minho into a hug. “I promise you, we found it on accident, and we don’t judge at all. I honestly found it pretty cute, hyung…”

“M’kay…” Minho whispered, and buried his head into the warm, safe crook of the puppy’s neck.

“Good, you ready for dinner?—”

Minho slumped in his arms, and everyone burst into laughter when they heard the tiny snores coming from their adorable kitten.

[dakogutin]

hiiii i just binge read all your fics and obsessed is an understatement!!!

idk if u take requests but i had an idea and it’s driving me crazy i just had to put it somewhere.

okay so i thought of it while reading the fic in which remus and sirius hear each other in bed at night.

well…. james and lily share quarters when tnehre head boy and girl, i know they don’t share a room exactly, but i was thinking: with all their tension building up throughout the years, especially that year, one of them hearing the other even if it was so so quiet would drive them crazy and i’d love to see your interpretation of how it goes.

i really hope you consider writing this but if you don’t thank you so much for all you’ve given the fandom!

ive never been thanked for giving to a fandom🥹🥹thankyousosomuch!

havent written exclusively jily smut yet but this one's for you anon<3

[cw for cute plot but with very filthy m/f smut below cut]

=-=-=-=-=-=

Head Boy and Head Girl. That was definitely one way to have her final year at Hogwarts, Lily thinks to herself. For one, she was forced to work with James Potter often. But the surprises didn't end there as she's progressively making sense of why James Potter became Head Boy.

In the first month she could still deny it, but with their rounds scheduled together, the endless meetings, and their regular check-in with Professor McGonagall, she can't avoid it anymore. James Potter was surprisingly and unfortunately... she shudders... responsible.

She tries-- very hard-- not to let anything show, especially knowing James Potter will run with any reaction he'll get from her. But the realisation hits her harder than a Hex sometimes. And it had been too much lately.

Like that time when they were deciding on which Prefect to assign on the fifth floor corridor. It's where their DADA professor had hidden a "secret special dark creature", and no one was permitted to use that floor for their own safety. The task of keeping that corridor empty fell on the Prefects. Lily had names ready, which included Lupin. She watched James' reaction and sure enough, he protested. He and his gang were always weirdly protective of that quiet Lupin.

"Davies can take Lupin's place."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "No one gets special treatment, Potter. I wouldn't have you use Lupin for whatever kind of mischief you otherwise reserved him for."

Potter held out his palms in the air and let out a small chuckle. "None planned, I'm afraid. Just that Davies is rather, how shall I call it..." He shrugs. "A bit of a pompous sod."

"And you'd rather have a pompous sod keep check of whatever dark creature is in there?"

"If the choice is either that or Peeves, Evans? Yep."

"What does Peeves have anything to do with this?"

As though he was waiting for that exact question, Potter leaned his head on the pillar as an arrogant grin on his face matched his tone. "Lupin is one of the few people who can go toe to toe with Peeves. There's Sirius, but he's out of the question. Not a Prefect and all that. Of course, I'm another option but I'll clearly be occupied, won't I?"

No words come to Lily. He was right. To think she was too caught up with the smaller picture of using Lupin to spite Potter.

"And," James adds, "Davies loves his authority. If anything, students passing by that floor wouldn't think twice in following what he says. While Lupin can help the first years get to their common rooms without being tormented by our resident poltergeist."

It's this point that Lily failed to contain the awe from her face.

"I know. I'm rather brilliant." James waggled his eyebrows.

She simply rolled her eyes in response then.

At present, she couldn't help but have all those other similar instances where James Potter surprised her of his maturity and dedication to his role fill her mind as she went searching for him. He just had to have Quidditch practice at the same time with their meeting, so now the task of passing him the minutes of meeting fell to her as Head Girl.

She could wait until tomorrow of course, but the thought of an unfinished business with James Potter didn't exactly sound appealing. She'd much rather be done with it as soon as possible.

The pitch was empty when she reached it. Practice must've been over. For a moment she dreaded the more complicated prospect of searching for James in the entire castle, but that was when she spotted Sirius Black.

"Where's your other half?" she demanded.

"Evans," he noted. "Good morning to you too." Then he proceeded his steps.

"Black, wait." Lily held out the paper. "Why don't you give him this."

He stared at it for a second, then glanced up to her. "I'm allergic to official documents. Sorry."

"Don't be an arse. I'm just asking you to pass it to him since you're attached at the hip anyways. And it would spare me the trouble of having to look for him."

"Do it yourself." Black grinned. "He's in the changing rooms, doodling the team's strategy like a proper swot."

Lily sighed. "Why can't you do it? Please," she added, begrudgingly.

Black shrugged, already walking off. "I'm not the Head Girl."

He was gone before she could even form a retort.

After dragging her feet to the changing rooms she found it as empty as the Quidditch pitch. Lily debated simply sending her owl, but in the end she decided against it since the Owlery is in yet another tower. She cursed Sirius Black in her head, dismissing this as some stupid prank. Honestly, why hadn't she expected that?

She then heard a distant noise. Someone was inside. Lily proceeded further and was about to call out Potter's name when she recognised the sound of water spraying down on tiled floors.

If this person really was Potter, he was in the middle of a shower.

Lily clamped her mouth shut and cursed Sirius Black again, retracting her steps as silently as possible.

As she turned for the exit she heard a noise from the shower. She thought it had been a hum-- that maybe James Potter was one of those people who sang while showering...

Except it was too faint and too guttural to be a hum.

When Lily heard the noise again, she was more than certain he wasn't singing. The noise shot right through her, leaving a shudder. She needed to leave. Now.

But as another soft moan echoed in the small room, Lily could distinctly tell it was indeed James Potter's raspy voice. And that just made everything worse.

Her face heated as it became harder to breathe. Suddenly all she could picture was James Potter-- just a few steps away-- completely naked, sopping wet... and touching himself. Her treacherous mind reminded her how he's always been showing off about his form and how he worked hard during the summer, plus with playing Quidditch all these years. The thought of that form he worked so hard on right now?

Lily swallowed, and that's when she realised her mouth was watering. She was mortified as much as she found herself frozen. Another moan slipped out from behind her, deeper and gruffer. And just like that her mouth wasn't the only thing that's wet.

She needed to go. She needed to go. She needed to go. "Fuck!" she hissed a whisper. This was wrong on so many levels.

One foot was out of the room when-- she dropped her wand.

Horrified, she didn't waste time picking it up and bolting out. She could only hope James Potter was... too busy... to have heard that.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Lily stayed at a deserted hallway overlooking the Great Lake for Merlin knows how long just collecting herself, questioning her life choices, and wondering if she should Obliviate herself. The thing is, distraction was just about impossible. She'd find herself circling back to all those sinful thoughts, and those sounds.

A voice broke through her spiral. She jumped at the unexpectedness but failed to make out the words. Turning to face the person, her knees almost gave out to the sight of none other than James Potter. He was still wearing his Quidditch uniform, which only sculpted his indeed very fit form. Why? Wasn't his practice over? Hadn't he already showered? Why did he have to wear that now?

She stared at him for a while and she saw how he was still expecting a response. "What did you say?" she asked dumbly.

Hands shoved in his pockets and grinning slightly, he stepped closer. "I said, are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" "Lily felt her breathing become unsteady once more and internally cursed herself. "And... why would you just come out of nowhere to ask me that? How did you even find me? What do you want?"

"Right," Potter chuckled. "You seem tense."

Lily took a deep breath. "I'm just tired. Look, I only meant to give you this." And finally, she was relieved from her task.

"Thanks, Evans." He said without sparing more than a second's glance at the paper.

"Sure." She then fixed her bag over her shoulder and walked past James Potter.

"Wa- where're you going?" He called behind her.

"Erm..." She hated that she didn't have an immediate reply. Anywhere was honestly better, with all those feelings she'd just shoved down already coming back to the surface as Potter looked at her with those round searching eyes. "My room."

"It's 4 in the afternoon on a Saturday."

"Your point being?"

Potter shut his mouth, whatever he wanted to say was left in his thoughts. "Nevermind."

"Okay... well, I'll see you around." Lily turned away once more.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

"The answer is still no, Potter."

He laughed. "Not that." He stepped closer again, taking away the distance Lily just made.

"What is it..." She could smell his aftershave this close.

His glasses were skewed as his eyes scanned her. For the first time Lily felt an impulse to fix it on his nose. "Have you been looking for me?" he asked.

Lily had no idea how to deal with a James Potter like this. He was speaking in a softer voice and he was giving her a gentler gaze. It was far from his usual loud and uncaring tone along with his brazen grin. "I was," she replied. "Just to give you that."

"Right. And you were at the Quidditch pitch?"

She didn't like where this was headed. "Yeah. You had practice, of course that's where I'd look." At that, he simply nodded. "Why do you need to know?" she challenged.

James Potter's grin was back. "Guess I'm just curious."

Don't answer. Don't answer. Don't answer. "About what?"

He shrugged. "How long you can avoid what you know I'm talking about."

Lily decided to play his game. "What are you talking about?"

"Sirius told me he saw you," he said, stepping closer.

Lily held his gaze. "Oh? What else did he say?"

"That he told you where I was."

Nope. She couldn't do it. "Have you no shame?" Lily turned away, her cheeks heating up. "Whatever, okay. I didn't see anything."

Potter broke into a laugh. Of course he had no shame. "I didn't mean to make you... tense."

Still refusing to meet his face, Lily replied, "I'm perfectly fine."

"Evans," he called soflty, "I can tell your face is red."

"Maybe because this topic is largely inappropriate!"

"Alright, sorry," he said with another wave of chuckles. "I'm letting you go now."

Lily sighed in relief. "Thank you." She made one move to head off when Potter spoke once more.

"Just thought I'd let you know, I'd recognise your perfume anywhere."

There was just no way she was getting out of this unscathed. It became clear she should just stop resisting. Lily turned. "So, you knew I walked in."

Surprise was evident on Potter's face. Perhaps he expected Lily to walk away. "Not at first," he admitted.

"But you continued anyway." Lily took slow but consistent steps like a prowling cat, stopping right in front of Potter. He followed her every move with his gaze alone, half-lidded eyes trailed down to hers. "Would you do that if anyone else had walked in?" she added in a murmur.

Potter tilted his head. He had a dazed look, and his lips were parted. "You know I wouldn't."

Already this close, it didn't take much for their lips to meet in a kiss.

A shudder spread through Lily's skin in hearing a pleased but muffled sound from Potter. The thought of drawing more of those sounds from him filled her with dark anticipation. Big warm hands caressed her softly as she tugged on his hair. Too lost with the slick heat of James Potter's mouth, she gasped at the sudden solid brick of the wall against her back. James was crowding her there-- in the middle of the hallway where anyone could pass by and see.

"James..." she mumbled against his lips.

He responded with a groan, strong arms squeezing her. It was remarkably secure in his hold, and she could definitely feel his form. She took a self-indulgent moment to let her hands explore, never leaving his lips. From his sturdy chest to the narrowing of his waist. Merlin, she could do this for hours.

"Mmph..." James let out a deeper moan, and she felt it on her neck. "Lily..." His voice this close to her ear was nothing compared to hearing it in the shower. And for him to moan her name...

Lily's knees threatened to give out, and the certainty of being held firm by James almost convinced her. Instead, the palm on his chest pushed him until their lips were apart. "Not here," she whispered.

James stared at her for a while, still caught in a daze. She watched as her words settled in his mind, dilated pupils scanning her until they widened in realisation. Then, a smirk stretched his swollen lips. He looks as though the disbelief hasn't left him. That this really is happening. In all fairness, Lily couldn't believe it too.

"Wipe that stupid expression away and find us somewhere private, will you," she said with a chuckle.

His smirk stretched into a grin. "Yes, ma'am." He stole one last kiss before stepping back, pulling her with their linked hands.

James led them to an empty classroom. With a wave of his wand the lock clicked, and he was instantly back on her like a starved man, guiding her to the nearest desk. Lily welcomed every kiss before pulling his tight uniform over his head. "You found this room really quickly, huh." She couldn't help but notice.

"Hmm?" His shirt was now off, his hair was messier, and his glasses sat crookedly on his nose.

Finally, Lily fixed his glasses. "I just said, you seem to always know which places to look. You found me easily too, just earlier. I had to look for you for hours!"

Two blinks until he managed a response. "Oh." He shrugged. "Just... great sense of direction. May I?" he asked, glancing to the buttons of her shirt.

Lily gave him a look. "Since when were you a gentleman?" she said, then proceeded to unbutton herself. Much to her satisfaction, his eyes never left her hands.

"Since," he swallowed thickly, "since you bothered to find out."

"That doesn't make sense." Lily let her shirt fall from her shoulders and perched on the desk.

James' breaths were heavier. "No, it doesn't." His eyes stayed stuck on her breasts. He would lift his gaze to her eyes but they'd constantly fall back down. It was adorable.

With a fond smile straining her cheeks, Lily reached for James' hand and placed it on her left tit. "You can touch me, you know." She then pulled him closer, parting her legs to make space. "I want you to touch me."

A surprised laugh left James' throat. He bit his bottom lip, if only to contain his wide grin. "Fuck, Lily..." James surged forward into a desperate kiss, pressing down until Lily was lying back. Her skirt hitched up until it was now loosely around her waist. She could feel everything in this position, the most prominent being the erection against her own wetness, and the thrilling fact of being separated only by a few layers of clothing.

She bucked her hips impatiently, grinding against James. The groan she elicited from him went directly into her mouth. It's then she zeroed in on one goal. She needed to hear more.

While James' hands were otherwise engrossed with feeling up Lily's tits, she trailed hers downward, reaching for a buckle. James noticed with a gasp and pulled off to shoot her a look of pure want. Hooded eyes, heaving chest, and swollen lips curled into a grin. He was the image of a wet dream.

James watched as her deft fingers unbuttoned him, tugged his pants to pull out his hard cock. It fell right between her legs, sitting on top of the wet patch of her panties. Then, she stroked.

She was rewarded with a shaky moan from the man on top, his head dropped to rest on her neck as she found a rhythm. Right next to her ear, she could hear the shaky sighs and the small whimpers whenever she twisted her wrist just so. Then, an idea popped in her head.

"This was what you were doing in the shower?" she cooed.

"Oh, fuck..." he drawled before dissolving into a short laugh. He rocked his hips, aiding Lily's fist. It caused his cock to graze against her clit. She jolted in surprise just as a moan escaped her lips. "No," James continued, now gazing down at her. "This is infinitely better."

"James..." she whined, pleading. She didn't know what exactly, just that she wanted him to do something.

It's as though she flipped a switch in James' brain. He pulled up from lying on top of her, closed one hand around his cock and used his other to dip inside Lily's underwear, finally sliding his finger through her slick folds. Lily sobbed out a moan, her head falling back.

The finger stopped teasing and finally rubbed her clit. With Lily's mouth hanging open, she reconnected their lips until they swallowed each other's moans. Her hand that was still around his cock started jerking him off in time with his fingers. It prompted James to slip them inside her waiting hole and her other arm instantly flew around his shoulders, gripping tightly to ground herself from the whirlwind of pleasure.

They stayed in that perfect dance for a while as James' fingers tested different angles and eliciting different responses from Lily. When he found that delicious spot inside her, and she cried out from beneath him, he pulled out. Then, he got off her completely.

Before Lily could even form her protest, getting on her elbows to find exactly where he is, she was met with the sight of James getting on his knees between her legs. He delicately slid her knickers to one side-- then licked a stripe up her wet cunt.

Her head fell back down as she moaned hoarsely, a distant thought crossed her mind that hoped no one passed by this classroom, but it was quickly replaced by that same wave of arousal when she felt two fingers slip inside her again.

Just as she'd thought it couldn't get any better, James would moan-- and the vibrations went directly where his mouth kissed and sucked. It was too much.

"James!" She panted. "James, fuck, I'm... I think I'm go--" But James wasn't interested in helping her finish her sentence, speeding up his fingers, sucking harder, and moaning louder. She didn't stand a chance. Lily came in waves and waves, writhing in place as she was powerless to James' firm grip.

When the high subsided and she felt one with her body again, she didn't waste time pulling James up to his feet and smashing their lips to a heated kiss. Her hands crawled to his neglected cock, hot and leaking, and stroked him with all the intent to see him fall apart. His jaw fell slack and all he could do was turn into a mess of whimpers and groans.

A twitch in her hand told her he was close, and then he was coming a rope of hot white on her. It seemed forever that he recovered from his peak. "Fucking hell," he said after taking his first breath. "I don't think I came this hard in my life." He shook with laughter. The sight prompted a surge of emotion in Lily's chest that she couldn't help but drag him back into a long kiss.

The only coherent thought in her head was this couldn't be the last time this happened. "Ask me again, Potter," she said breathlessly, fixing his glasses back to the bridge of his nose.

It took him a long while to figure out what she wanted him to say, until finally, he grinned. "Lily Evans, will you go on a date with me to Hogsmeade?"

She mirrored his grin. "I'd go on a date with you wherever, James Potter."

The elation on his face could light up the entire castle on Christmas day. He let out one huff of laughter before collapsing on top of her and drowning her in kisses.

[ninja-confession-go]

Long rant about Jay (not a hate rant quite the opposite actually)

I hate that they got rid of Jay's mechanic/inventor traits as time went on. And instead of just bringing those traits back they keep introducing characters to fill In that role.

Like Im sorry but why are 3 of the 4 gals apart of the main group into mechanics or deals with tech in someway??? Why is Wyldfyre the only gal who doesn't have an interest In tech????

Nya, Sora and Pixal all fulfill essentially the same tech role and while that's fine as they can easily fulfill different aspects, my issue is WHY NOT BRING JAY'S SKILLS BACK THEN?

They r clearly not afraid of multiple characters fulfilling similar roles so why was Jay the only one who's mechanic skills were stripped away?

Like his skills were so important in the earlier seasons he helped out so much and even got the bounty for fuckin fly?? Like his skills in machinery was also a reason why wu chose him too so to strip that away just makes no sense?

Like I'll forever be salty about this, his intelligence in machinery was so interesting to see especially when u consider the comedic kinda of character he's supposed to be. They could easily made him the mad scientist type of inventor/mechanic but they just hate fun and whimsy and would rather he be just comedic relief and nothing else I guess.

THATS ANOTHER THING

I hate how they treated Jay like he was stupid in later seasons too. They really dumbed him down instead of being the smart comedic relief he's the dumb comedic relief and I HATE it. bro literally deals with mechanics and made shit from scraps if there is one thing he ISNT, is stupid.

Like if they had just made him, let's say not emotionally intelligent i could understand. This is my own personal headcanons coming through, but i don't think he was around many other humans aside from his parents and occasional mail man growing up, and while i dont think he means to come off as a jerk, he tends to say shit without thinking it through as we have seen ALOT and that could be chalked up to him dealing more with machines than people. So If they had just focues on his lack of emotional intelligence, THAT I could understand and would have been fine with. Obviously this is more my own headcanon coming through but u get the idea

But they just made him more all around stupid and I just find that so hard to believe.

I hate how none of Jay's backstory has been explored too.

They introduced a mind shattering revelation that Jay's adopted and proceeded to do...nothing with it.

WHYYYYY???

It would have been so cool to explore that but no, it gets no mention or focus at all aside from that random coversation betwen Unagami and Jay in the season that absolutely should have been a Jay season but for some reason wasn't. Like why bring it up then lol

I also hate that all of Jay's conflicts tend to involve Nya. Like I know they yin/yang but cmon bro, not every conflict Jay goes through has to focus on his relationship with Nya. Let this man get SOME interesting characterization that isn't based around Nya CMON

I saw a few posts on here talking about Jay's characterization and I just had to jump In with my two cents cuz it's crazy how they brutalized him in later seasons. The Fandom tries their hardest to keep the mechanic aspect of Jay alive and I appreciate that so much cuz it's a crime they got rid(or forgot or whatever) of it later on

If u can't tell I'm a Jay fan who's mad their fav was done SO dirty LOL

.

[mpregstory]

So this is kind of odd but I wrote this long time ago. It‘s not perfect but i guess I just post it before deleting it from my void of unposted stuff haha. Hope u enjoy this 10-Chapter-Thing I wrote in I guess 2022 XD I think The Experiment sounds like a legit title but this is nothing Big u know…despite the length…

Chapter 1: The Experiment

Noah sat nervously on the examination table, staring at the sterile white light of the clinic lamp above him. Elias stood next to him, his hand tightly wrapped around his. Despite the coolness of the room, Noah could feel how warm Elias' skin was - a sign that he was also tense, even if he didn't want to admit it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Elias asked quietly, leaning closer to him.

Noah took a deep breath. "Yes. I mean, it's crazy, but... if we can be part of something so revolutionary, why not?"

Elias grinned. "So you want to make history?"

"Sounds better than just getting old boringly."

Before Elias could reply, the door opened and a woman in a white coat entered. She was middle-aged, her gray hair tied in a strict bun, but her brown eyes seemed friendly and curious.

"Noah, Elias - welcome. My name is Dr. Laurent, and I will be supervising the procedure for you."

She sat down on the stool and flipped through a digital file on her tablet. "As you know, we are on the threshold of a new era in reproductive medicine. You both volunteered for this experiment, and I must stress that this is a unique and previously untested method. We know that the human body is amazingly adaptable - but pregnancy in a male body is a completely new territory."

Noah nodded. They had already gone through countless explanations and completed numerous tests to make sure that he was even a candidate for the experiment.

"We have developed the process to mimic the natural pregnancy of a female body as best as possible," Dr. Laurent continued. "The implanted uterine structure and the hormonal adjustment allow the embryo to implant and grow. But how exactly a birth will proceed... we don't know for sure."

Elias frowned. "Aren't there any simulations or theories?"

Dr. Laurent sighed and leaned back. "There are hypotheses. Some scientists suggest that the body will find a natural way to deliver the child - whether through some kind of modified birth or through surgery, we don't know. The research is still in its early stages."

Noah exchanged a look with Elias. That sounded risky, but also intriguing.

"So... I'm going to have the baby naturally?" he asked hesitantly.

"Not necessarily," Dr. Laurent replied. "But there are signs that the body is preparing itself for when the time comes. You will be under constant observation - if complications arise, we can intervene at any time."

Noah swallowed. He wasn't afraid of change - he was even excited. But the idea of ​​not knowing how his body would ultimately handle the birth made him think.

"And if something goes wrong?" Elias asked suddenly.

Dr. Laurent gave him an encouraging smile. "We have the best team possible by your side. And you two aren't going to go through this alone."

Elias' grip on Noah's hand tightened. He hesitated for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. "I can't believe we're actually doing this."

Noah grinned. "Too late to turn back?"

Elias laughed softly. "I should have known you were going to embark on a scientific adventure."

Dr. Laurent handed Noah a consent form. "When you're ready, sign here."

Noah picked up the pen. His heart beat faster as he signed his name.

"Welcome to the future, Mr. Carter."

Chapter 2: First Changes

Noah stood in front of the bathroom mirror and examined his own reflection. His skin was pale, his eyes slightly red - no wonder, considering he had been feeling like a walking stomach bug for days.

He leaned his hands on the sink and took a deep breath. His stomach rumbled again and a sudden gag reflex shot up his throat. Without thinking, he turned around and vomited into the toilet.

"Wow, that didn't sound healthy."

Elias leaned in the doorway, wearing only a pair of shorts, and looked at him with a worried expression.

Noah groaned and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Don't say anything. I'm aware of how pathetic that looked just now."

Elias came closer, knelt next to him and stroked his back soothingly. "Morning sickness? Or just a reaction to your body not knowing what the hell is going on here?"

"Both?" Noah leaned against the cool bathroom wall and sighed. "I mean, I knew this could happen. You explained it to me, but... it feels damn real."

Elias chuckled. "Because it is real."

"Yeah, thanks for the scientific clarification, Dr. Elias."

Elias grinned. "Hey, I find it fascinating. I mean, your body... is adapting to a whole new kind of existence."

Noah rolled his eyes. "I adapt by throwing up every five minutes. Great evolution."

Elias shrugged. "At least now we know it works."

Noah snorted. "I would have preferred confirmation via email rather than vomiting."

Elias helped him to his feet. "Do you think you can get something down? I can make you some tea."

Noah grimaced. "I don't know. Everything smells funny right now. Like you've sprayed the whole apartment with a perfume made from old socks and rotten fruit."

Elias raised an eyebrow. "Charming."

"I'm just telling you how it is."

Elias watched him thoughtfully, then gently pulled him out of the bathroom. "Okay, then we'll come up with a new plan. You sit on the sofa, take a deep breath, and I'll test what you can eat without it causing a catastrophe."

"I don't want to eat anything."

"You don't want to lie on the floor and moan again."

Noah sighed, but collapsed onto the couch. His gaze wandered to his stomach - there was nothing there yet, but he knew that something was changing deep inside him. He had agreed to take part in this experiment, but reality hit him with a vengeance.

Elias came back with a glass of water and sat down next to him. "You know, I read that pregnant people sometimes develop strange cravings. Maybe you just need to find out what works."

Noah looked at him skeptically. "This is the moment when you suggest a completely absurd food combination, right?"

Elias grinned. "Peanut butter and cucumbers?"

Noah shuddered. "Oh God, no."

"Then I'll try something normal."

While Elias went into the kitchen, Noah leaned back and put a hand on his stomach. It was strange - so far away and yet so close. He had no idea what was to come, but one thing was certain: He was in the middle of it.

And there was no turning back.

Chapter 3: Limitless everyday life

"Noah, can you help me for a minute?"

Elias' voice rang through the apartment as Noah was lifting a heavy shopping bag out of the trunk. He sighed in annoyance. "You could come over and lend a hand!" he called back.

Elias appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed, an amused smile on his lips. "You're pregnant."

Noah rolled his eyes and pulled the heavy bag out of the car anyway. "So? I'm not made of glass. I can probably still carry a damn shopping bag."

Elias sighed and finally came to his aid. "I'm just saying. I have no idea if that's a good thing. We don't even know what strain your body can take."

"Exactly," said Noah, putting his hands on his hips. "We don't know. So we'll just carry on as before."

Elias shook his head with a grin and took the bag from him. "You're impossible."

"And you're exaggerating."

Inside, they put the groceries away while music played in the background. Noah moved to the beats, hummed along and gave Elias a challenging look. "Bet I can still beat you in a dance battle?"

Elias laughed. "You're four months pregnant and want to dance?"

"Why not?" Noah shrugged. "I'm fine. I feel fit. And as long as nothing feels strange, I see no reason to do anything differently."

Elias raised an eyebrow. "Aha. And that pulling in your back the other day? Or how you said the other day that your stomach felt strange?"

Noah waved it off. "Normal things. I'm not sick, Eli."

"No, but you're pregnant. A pregnancy like no other. I'm just saying, maybe you should take it easy."

Noah rolled his eyes. "I take it easy when I'm tired. And as long as I'm not, I enjoy my life."

Elias shook his head, but he knew he couldn't fight Noah's stubbornness. And deep down, he was impressed. Noah didn't let anything slow him down - not even an experimental pregnancy.

The next day, Noah went to the gym with him. Nothing extreme, but a little exercise didn't hurt. He didn't want to feel like an experiment, but like a normal person. While Elias was on the treadmill, Noah did light exercises with weights. The other people around him didn't know about his situation - and he preferred that.

But when he stood up again after a squat, he felt a strange pulling sensation in his stomach. Not painful, but intense. He winced and pressed a hand against his lower abdomen.

Elias noticed immediately. "Hey, is everything OK?"

Noah forced a smile. "Yeah, sure. Just... maybe a little too much."

Elias crossed his arms. "Oh, don't tell me."

Noah sighed and plopped down on a bench. "Okay, maybe I was wrong."

Elias grinned triumphantly. "That's what I wanted to hear."

Noah leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling. He didn't want to be wrapped in cotton wool, but he had to admit that his body might not be as invulnerable as he had hoped.

Maybe it was time to slow down a little bit.

Just a little bit.

Chapter 4: An Unexpected Incident

Noah stood in front of the mirror in their hotel room bathroom and turned to the side. His belly was now clearly visible. In the last few weeks, his body had changed, faster than he had expected. It was strange - fascinating on the one hand, but also made him feel a little alien in his own skin.

"You stare at yourself like you're a scientific miracle."

Noah flinched when Elias appeared in the doorway behind him. He was wearing only loose shorts and a crumpled T-shirt, his hair was tousled from sleep.

"So am I," Noah murmured, stroking his round belly.

Elias stepped closer and placed his hands gently on Noah's hips. "Yes, but you're just you."

Noah sighed and leaned against him slightly. "I don't know. It feels... surreal. I've been wondering what it would be like for so long, and now I'm in the middle of it."

Elias kissed him gently on the shoulder. "So? Do you regret it?"

Noah shook his head. "No. I don't think so. But I feel like I don't know what my body will do next."

"Then let it do what it has to do. We'll get through this."

Noah smiled slightly and turned to him. "I hope you're right."

The vacation had actually been a spontaneous idea. They had told themselves that there was nothing that spoke against it - Noah was feeling well and the doctors had not imposed any restrictions on them. So they had decided to go to the seaside, to simply enjoy a few days before the next big phase began.

They walked along the promenade, the sun was high in the sky, the sound of the waves accompanied their steps. Noah was wearing a light shirt that didn't hide his belly, but didn't show it off either. Elias had his hand in his as they strolled through small shops.

"Okay, I'm hungry," Noah suddenly announced.

Elias laughed. "Again? You just ate something two hours ago."

"Yes, but the baby, or whatever it is now, wants more."

Elias grinned and pulled him to a small café on the side of the road. "Then let's feed the science project."

They sat down at a table overlooking the sea and Noah ordered a huge portion of pasta and a fruit juice. Elias watched him with a grin.

"You know, if you weren't so thin, people would think you had twins or something."

Noah snorted. "God forbid. One experiment is enough for me."

Elias laughed and took a sip of his coffee.

But in the middle of eating, Noah suddenly stopped. His face twisted and he put a hand on his stomach.

Elias noticed it immediately. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Noah blinked as if he had to collect himself first. "I... I don't know. It feels different. Not bad, just... strange."

Elias frowned. "How strange?"

Noah hesitated, then laughed quietly. "Forget it. Maybe I just ate too quickly."

But deep down he knew it was more. Something was changing. And he had no idea what it meant.

Chapter 5: Vacation

The sun was high in the sky when Noah and Elias woke up early in the morning in their rented vacation apartment on the coast. The room, bright and friendly, offered a view of the endless blue of the sea - a promise of freedom and relaxation that both of them equally expected.

Noah lay in bed for a moment, feeling the warm, familiar pressure of his growing belly, which reminded him of the incredible experiment they had taken part in. Despite all the uncertainty and the doctors' warnings, he felt fit and alive - and today this vacation was to be a celebration of carefree joy.

"Wake up, my heart," Elias whispered as he gently touched Noah's shoulder. "The sun is calling us - and today there is no room for worries."

Noah smiled sleepily and sat up. "I actually wanted to lie down for a few more minutes... but you're right. Today is to be a day full of adventures."

After a short, leisurely breakfast on the small terrace, enjoying fresh orange juice and homemade yoghurt, they headed for the beach. The promenade was filled with the hum of holidaymakers, the sound of the waves and the quiet laughter of people. Everywhere there was an atmosphere of lightness and curiosity that lay like an invisible blanket over the day.

Elias suggested renting a small boat to experience the coast from the water. Noah, who still felt the urge for thrills despite his experimental state, nodded enthusiastically. In the boat, surrounded by salty sea air and the rhythm of the gentle waves, Noah felt free - even if his body now betrayed something completely different.

"You know," Elias began as they sat on the bow and looked at the horizon, "I find it incredible how you don't let yourself be restricted. Your energy is contagious."

Noah put a hand on his stomach and laughed quietly. "It's crazy, isn't it? A few doctors, a groundbreaking experiment – ​​and now I'm living this dream. I mean, who would have thought that a man could be pregnant and have so much fun while doing it?"

The two of them enjoyed this special moment without thinking about the risks that lurked somewhere in the background. Everyday life had already taught them that sometimes you just have to embrace life and let it surprise you.

Later that day they returned to a small beach café, where they sat in the shade of an old palm tree. While Noah sipped a freshly squeezed fruit juice, Elias studied his partner's slightly bulging belly with fascination.

"Sometimes I think your belly has more adventures than both of us put together," Elias teased with a smile.

Noah shook his head and grinned. "Maybe he's developing his own plan – completely independent of me."

The conversation was accompanied by quiet, friendly glances from the café visitors, who curiously observed the unusual but harmonious couple dynamic. For Noah, this vacation was not only a break from everyday life, but also proof that one does not have to be limited by social norms. The researchers had many questions, but here, amid the sound of the sea and the warm embrace of the sun, it did not matter if his body functioned differently - the main thing was that he felt alive.

During the afternoon they walked along the beach, collecting shells and letting their thoughts wander. Noah kept feeling the gentle, constant pulsing in his stomach - a mysterious signal that both warned and fascinated him. Elias watched him lovingly, always ready to support him if things took an unexpected turn.

"I don't know if I ever learned to accept my limits," Noah confessed as they reached a small bay and sat down on a rock. "But today, right here, I feel stronger than ever before - as if I and this belly were one."

Elias took his hand and squeezed it gently. "We have chosen this adventure, and no matter what happens, we are in it together. Maybe we don't yet know how the birth will ultimately go - but we know that we have each other."

In that moment, under the azure sky and with the sound of the sea in our ears, everything seemed possible. The future lay unwritten before them - and despite all the uncertainty, today was a promise: a promise to celebrate life in all its facets, courageously and without regrets.

Chapter 6: First signs?

On a warm afternoon, as the holiday took on its peaceful rhythm, Noah and Elias sat relaxed in the shade of a large palm tree. The sun painted golden stripes on the sand roof, and the gentle sound of the waves conveyed a deceptive calm. But something else was brewing inside Noah.

While Elias was engrossed in a conversation with the café owner, Noah suddenly felt a strange pulling in his stomach. It was not a stabbing pain, but more of a pressing, pulsating feeling, as if something was moving that he could not control. He instinctively placed a hand on the growing curve and tried to concentrate on the calming sound of the sea.

"Everything okay?" asked Elias when he returned to Noah and saw the questioning look in his eyes.

"Yes, yes..." murmured Noah and forced himself to smile, although he hesitated inside. "Probably just one of those stupid muscle contractions, you know, because everything is so unfamiliar."

Elias studied him for a while, and although he tried to appear calm, a certain fascination flashed in his eyes. "I find it amazing how your body reacts to the experiment. Every day brings something new - and you bear it all so confidently."

Noah laughed briefly, but the laughter quickly faded as the pulling in his stomach became more intense. He felt an unpleasant pressure building up that took his breath away. At the same time, doubt and worry arose in his mind: Was this the beginning of something that he had only heard in the doctors' explanatory words? The researchers had emphasized that the process of giving birth in a male body was a blank slate.

"Eli, maybe..." Noah began, but he stopped when another wave of pain shot through his abdomen.

Elias took his hand and squeezed it gently. "Tell me, you look a little pale. Maybe we should retreat into the shade for a moment?"

Noah nodded hesitantly. They went to a secluded spot under an old tree whose wide branches offered a cool refuge. As they sat there, Noah tried to breathe deeply and interpret the emerging symptoms. He remembered the doctors' numerous explanations: that the body often sends unusual signals when it prepares for birth - a process that was completely new and unpredictable in this experimental pregnancy.

"I don't know if I'm reading too much into it," Noah finally whispered and looked at Elias, who returned his gaze attentively.

Elias smiled reassuringly. "Sometimes our bodies play tricks on us. But you have to listen to yourself. Maybe it's just an early contraction or an indication that something is changing."

At that moment, Noah realized that Elias's fascination lay not only in reassuring words, but also in the way he looked at the growing belly - as if it were a living work of art, a miracle that connected them both in unexpected ways.

"You may be worrying too much," Elias said gently, stroking Noah's hand. "Remember that we are going through this adventure together. Whether it is just a temporary inconvenience or the beginning of something completely new - we are staying together."

Noah sighed deeply, and although he was still plagued by uncertainty inside, he gave Elias a grateful smile. In the hours that followed, they tried to carry on with their daily routine - a walk on the beach, a quick trip to a nearby café - but Noah's symptoms became more and more present. An occasional stabbing pain, a sudden feeling of pressure that made him pause. Again and again he felt his body signaling to him that he needed to be more attentive.

Despite the increasing signs, Noah initially maintained his relaxed attitude. He did not want to think about an imminent birth, as uncertain as the situation was. Elias, on the other hand, was alternately fascinated and worried. Again and again he tried to downplay the symptoms, with a wink and loving comments, while at the same time he could not ignore the possibility of real change.

Late in the afternoon, as the sun slowly set in a spectacular display of colors, Noah again felt an intense pain that almost made him sink to the ground. This time it was obvious: the first contractions had started. Between amazement, concern and a pinch of defiance, Noah knew that their journey into unknown waters had only just begun.

"Elias... I think this is more than just a muscle cramp," he murmured, while Elias immediately went on alert.

Elias looked into Noah's eyes, which now showed the vague realization that something inevitable was about to happen. "We'll stay together no matter what happens," he said quietly as he took Noah in his arms.

In that moment, accompanied by the last rays of the sun and the gentle sound of the sea, they realized that they had to embrace the unknown - as a couple, as a team, as pioneers in a new world of reproductive medicine.

Chapter 7: Birth Begins

As dusk fell and the sky glowed a soft orange, Noah suddenly felt a wave of intense pain that nearly knocked him off his feet. In the middle of a peaceful walk on the beach, a new, overwhelming contraction shot through his body. Elias, who was always by Noah's side, noticed the change immediately - Noah's face turned pale and a cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Noah, this is different than before," Elias whispered, gently grabbing his shoulder. "We have to get to safety." The words sounded urgent amid the sound of the waves and the approaching night.

They quickly found refuge in a small, unoccupied tent that was being used as emergency accommodation by some tourists. Elias helped Noah lie down on a makeshift bed while he frantically pulled out his phone to call for medical help - but in this remote coastal town the signal was weak and times were uncertain.

With a trembling voice and pain in his eyes, Noah looked up at Elias. "Eli, I think it's time." He put a hand to his growing belly as another violent wave of pain hit him. The contractions became faster, more intense, and gave him little time to breathe.

Elias knelt by his side, squeezed his hand and spoke in a calm, firm voice: "Breathe, my love. We can do this - I'm with you." Despite his own fear rising within him, Elias focused only on Noah. He had no experience of childbirth, and the thought that their experiment was now taking on a completely unknown reality made his heart beat faster. But at that moment, his only job was to support Noah.

The minutes stretched on endlessly as Noah vacillated between intense pain and a strange sense of wonder. "It feels so... strange, yet incredible," he groaned as another wave of pain rolled over him. Elias gently wiped the sweat from his brow and murmured quiet words of encouragement, trying to hide his own fear.

Reality hit them both: The doctors had warned against the experiment - giving birth in a male body was uncharted territory. Every pain, every movement was new and inexplicable. As Noah struggled with the successive contractions, Elias' initial fascination was quickly replaced by concern. "Noah, this is more than just a contraction," he said, his voice trembling as the contractions came at ever shorter intervals.

With each beat of his heart, Noah realized that this was the moment they had let themselves in for, albeit unprepared. Between pain and the fleeting feeling of a miracle beginning, he felt his body preparing for an inevitable, mysterious change.

Elias placed his hand tenderly on Noah's belly and whispered: "We'll stay together, no matter what happens." In that silent, almost magical hour, as the last rays of day faded into night, the inevitable began: the birth had begun and would change their lives forever.

Chapter 8: Panic and Reality

Darkness had fallen like a heavy curtain over the beach as the situation reached its climax in the small, improvised shelter. The loud, erratic waves of the sea formed an ominous backdrop as Noah trembled amidst the ongoing contractions. His face was twisted with pain and fear, and each new wave seemed to sap his strength.

Elias sat close to him, his hand tightly wrapped around Noah's as he tried to keep the rising panic at bay. But his eyes reflected deep concern - the first hint of real fear of the unknown. "Noah, I... I don't know if we can do this," he whispered, staring unceasingly at his cell phone. The emergency call attempt in this remote coastal town only brought back a weak signal.

Noah was breathing heavily, his body seemed to rebel against every resistance. "I don't want to die here, Eli... but I feel like it's about to happen," he murmured, as another violent contraction almost took his breath away. His voice wavered between pain and an almost incredulous amazement - the awareness that he was part of a scientific miracle that was now taking shape in painful, real moments.

The minutes stretched on in agony. Elias tried to stay calm, even though his heart was pounding wildly in his chest. "We have to accept reality," he said in a firm but fragile voice. "The experiment has led us into a situation that we could never fully understand. Now we have to make the best of it - together."

A particularly intense jolt of pain made Noah squint. At that moment, the pent-up panic inside him erupted. "Eli, I'm so scared. I don't know if my body can take this." Between the groans, he struggled to think clearly.

Elias squeezed his hand even tighter and replied, "I'm here. We're together - we've always said that. I won't leave you alone, no matter how wild it gets." His words were a weak anchor in the midst of the raging storm that was taking place inside Noah's body.

Meanwhile, Elias tried desperately to reach further help over the crackling phone. But the unreliable connection in this remote corner kept leaving him with the bitter realization that they were on their own. "The reception is catastrophic. But we have to keep trying," he muttered as he made another emergency call.

Outside, the sea raged in the night, as if the forces of nature themselves wanted to dictate the rhythm of birth. Every thunder of the waves seemed to intensify the pain in Noah's stomach, and the reality of the moment became more and more inexorable. "It feels like everything - the experiment, our hopes, even our entire vacation - is condensed into this one, painful moment," Noah thought, trying to cling to Elias' words.

Elias, clearly torn inside, saw in Noah's eyes a shift between pure panic and a hint of acceptance. He whispered: "Breathe, Noah. Focus on me. We can do this - we just have to hold on until help comes."

The last seconds seemed to last an eternity. Between the successive contractions and the incessant sound of the sea, one thing was certain: the birth, as unpredictable and frightening as it was, could no longer be postponed. Reality had intervened in all its brutal form, and the two of them had to face the inevitable - alone, but together.

Amidst the chaos, as another wave of intense pain washed over Noah, he closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if gathering strength within himself. Elias' voice, now almost pleading, sounded: "I am here. Hold on, my love. We will get through this together - come, breathe with me."

The night seemed to hold its breath as reality manifested itself in every fiber of its being. The unknown that once existed only in scientific theories was now tangible - a moment of fear, pain and unwavering love. And in that moment, as panic merged with brutal reality, it became clear that what had started as an experiment had now become a fight for life, love and the miracle of birth.

Chapter 9: Birth by the Sea

The stars sparkled in the cloudless night sky as Noah's contractions began in relentless succession. The makeshift shelter offered little shelter, and the incessant sound of the sea was the only music in this overwhelming moment. Elias knelt by Noah's side, holding his hand tightly and whispering soothing words as each new jolt of pain stretched time into endless seconds.

On the deserted beach, accompanied by the gentle play of the waves and the occasional call of a lone seagull, Noah fought against the overwhelming pain. His body - until now the scene of a scientific miracle - now revealed its raw, unfiltered nature. With each breath he was drawn deeper into the maelstrom of birth, while Elias tried tirelessly to support and comfort him.

"Breathe, my love, I'm here," Elias murmured as he squeezed Noah's shaking hand. Those words were more than just a promise - they were their shared anchor in the midst of the chaotic storm.

Then, as the fiercest contraction rolled over him, the unbelievable happened: a loud, piercing scream filled the night - and almost instantly a second scream followed. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Noah realized that not one, but two little lives were finding their way into this world at the same time.

Exhausted and overwhelmed by a mixture of pain, amazement and indescribable joy, Noah looked at Elias with wide eyes. "Twins..." he breathed in disbelief as he felt the pulsing in his belly more clearly - a double miracle that exceeded all his expectations.

Elias approached, his heart beating at a rapid pace, and he gently stroked Noah's sweat and damp skin. "Welcome, you little miracles," he whispered, trying to push his own fear into the background and concentrate fully on Noah and the two newborns.

The pain of birth slowly gave way to a deep, almost indescribable relief. On that remote night by the sea, far from modern medicine and the usual rules, they had experienced something together that overshadowed all previous ideas of birth. The interplay of pain, the force of nature and love had brought forth two new lives - a triumph that echoed in the gentle, endless waves of the sea.

When the first faint rays of dawn touched the horizon, Noah and Elias lay tightly embraced, the tiny bodies of the twins tenderly held in Noah's arms. In that peaceful moment, surrounded by the vastness of the sea and the silence of the early morning hours, they knew that together they would overcome any challenge, no matter how unforeseeable – because they had experienced not just one miracle, but two.

Chapter 10: A Miracle

As the first rays of morning light bathed the horizon in soft shades of pink and gold, Noah and Elias sat on the beach, tightly embraced, the twins in Noah's arms. The chaotic night in which the unimaginable had happened was now behind them - but the impressions and questions it carried with it were burned deep into their hearts.

Exhausted and overwhelmed by a feeling that was simultaneously gratitude, amazement and a slight restlessness, Noah looked at the tiny, sleeping faces of his children. Amidst the roaring sea and the gentle sound of the waves, everything seemed to stand still for a moment.

"I can hardly believe it," Noah whispered softly as he carefully sang to one of the children, "that we have experienced not just one miracle, but two."

Elias, whose hand was tightly wrapped around Noah's, nodded in agreement. His eyes reflected the same mixture of relief and new hope - but also the burden of unexpected questions. How would the world react to this groundbreaking experience? What new opportunities and challenges would the experiment open up for the future? And above all: How should they, as a young family, dare to take the next step?

The memories of the fear-filled night when they fought the unknown alone and without immediate help became a silent promise. A promise to always be there for each other - in good times and in difficult times.

"We have made history," Noah said finally, his voice firm and at the same time gentle as he looked at his children. "Perhaps many more questions will come our way, but one thing I know for sure: we will answer them together."

Elias laid his head on Noah's shoulder and added: "Hand in hand, just as we always were. This adventure has shown us that love and trust are stronger than any uncertainty."

With the gentle crackle of the first rays of sun and the soothing sound of the sea as a melody in their hearts, they looked to the future - ready to take on any challenge that life would still have in store for them. In that moment, they were not only witnesses to a scientific breakthrough, but architects of a new world in which wonder and questions go hand in hand.

The End?

[sosoribro]

kai x reader headcanons (chat am i in too deep)

hold on to your socks gangalang its about to get romantical

-asexual (cuz i am too and these headcanons are specifically tailored to meeeee)

-acts relatively normal around a passing crush but switches up like crazy around someone hes actually in love with

-absolutely will deny his feelings at first

-gets very protective but his nerves make him pretty self-aware about that so he makes sure not to be overbearing

-thinks very sweet and romantic things but is scared to say them because he doesnt wanna sound corny (but he'll yap to the others about you in the most beautiful way but then be like "i i mean. um. theyre pretty cool. i guess.")

-one time out of a hundred he'll actually land a pretty solid rather flirtatious compliment but the other gazillion times he flops

-he gets lots of nice ideas of things to do for you but of course. it takes a lot of convincing himself to actually go through with them. bro will say "so um.  i just got this idea um what if we went on a picnic? i was just thinking about it right now. it literally just came to me." (he has been considering it for 3 months)

-extremely bad at keeping it a secret. example scenario: lloyd jokes "awwwww are you in love with them are you dating" note: he is clearly joking. kai says very proudly "HA! JOKES ON YOU, WE AREN'T DATING I'M JUST DEEPLY IN LOVE WITH THEM I JUST DONT KNOW HOW THEY FEEL ABOUT ME! SO... THERE! NOT DATING. wait wAIT WAIT NO"

-he also would get gradually worse at hiding his feelings around you. it starts with little things like stuttering a bit but then he just starts accidentally saying stuff like for example you just casually ask him what his type is and he says "i dunno maybe someone like you..." but then he's like "mAYBE. i said maybe." thinking he saved it but like. is he stupid

-the first time he kisses you he's really gentle and soft (now thats not to say he's 𝓰𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓽 😈 all subsequent times i don't think he'd be like that but the first time around he's extra careful and also nervous and also mindlessly whispers "i love you" afterwards)

-if ur dancing with btw you better expect him to be softly humming/singing along to the music and also he WILL dip you into a smooch sorry buddy i dont make the rules

-loves hugging you and spinning you around

-also likes hugging from behind and kissing your shoulder

-if you put your hand on his cheek he'll do the thing where he turns his head towards it and gives it a smooch

-bro would absolutely love carrying you around

-see he does all of this to fluster you however when you do something in return he gets so flustered its unreal

-if ur reading at night he'll hold his finger up and become a lil candle for u

-he goes from calling you "bae" and "baby" to calling you "honey" and "sweetheart"

-"you look like a painting from the rainy sauce the rain a sauce the ressisauce the"

-good for cuddles during cold nights

[aurora077]

Divorce? Never!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46814080

So I had this idea and wasn't sure which pairings etc would work well with it but ex-chengxian and zhancheng seems to be good maybe so like au where the law is that if you divorce your spouse you cannot remarry them until they've married another... if they become divorced/widowed from this new spouse, *then* if you want to rekindle a relationship with them you can get married to them again because divorce is allowed but a past emperor thought that some people were marrying and divorcing too frivolously and not taking marriage seriously so they put this rule into place so that people would think before making hasty decisions.

Now of course the new marriage has to be real.. a real relationship.. if the court finds out that you're marrying and divorcing just as a way to get the second marriage out of the way to get back with your first spouse you will be arrested. Of course there were still some shady dealings but the law generally made it difficult for people to actually go through with these kinds of plans. Only one half of the couple needed to remarry not both, just to show that they tried to move on.

Of course you could still get back together after a divorce, you simply would not be able to marry and would just have to be without that status, which was very frowned upon by the society. Some people did just live together but it wasn't an easy thing socially speaking as it was a sign that you were a frivolous person who divorced your spouse for petty reasons and it just made u seem like u had bad character so people would look down on you. And for the most part it worked. People who considered marriage did it seriously, and divorce as well.

Of course every society has people who do things in haste and anger so there were definitely those who didn't think things through and later regretted it. So I'm thinking maybe chengxian are together and they're childhood sweethearts but Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng have been arguing lately and couldn't agree on certain decisions... Wei Wuxian in the heat of the moment said something really really stupid-- that maybe they should just divorce and do things their own way.

Jiang Cheng, hurt, agreed.

Wei Wuxian of course regrets it. He regrets it so much.

But Jiang Cheng refused to be married to someone who didn't want him. He promised himself he wouldn't become his mother. So he goes through with the divorce because just the fact that Wei Wuxian brought it up really hurt him and caused him to lose trust and faith in their relationship.

Wei Wuxian was confident that he could win Jiang Cheng back... but he wouldn't get the chance to he knew because Jiang Cheng would *never* put himself in a cohabiting situation after the divorce to have people look down on him and treat him poorly, and Wei Wuxian wouldn't want that for him either.

Enter Lan Wangji Now I can't decide how I want this to go. We could have a few dif scenarios here. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are good friends and Wei Wuxian begs Lan Wangji to help him. He could court Jiang Cheng and marry him and because Wei Wuxian didn't want Jiang Cheng's heart to be too badly hurt, Lan Wangji could divorce him later with the excuse of being Wei Wuxian's friend and feeling so guilty that he 'stole' him from Wei Wuxian when he knew how much Wei Wuxian still loved Jiang Cheng. This was so Jiang Cheng wouldn't feel like he was the problem. Wei Wuxian definitely learned the hard way and he really didn't want to hurt Jiang Cheng, he loved him.

So when they got divorced Wei Wuxian could beg Jiang Cheng for another chance. (And of course Lan Wangji would talk up how much Wei Wuxian regretted what he did and how much he cared for Jiang Cheng) OR Lan Wangji who is in love with Wei Wuxian and wants to marry *him* but he knows Wei Wuxian is still in love with Jiang Cheng. Lan Wangji isn't a bad guy and he just wants Wei Wuxian to be happy, even if it's not with him. He and Wei Wuxian are friends and Wei Wuxian of course cried to him all about his regrets etc So he volunteers to woo & marry Jiang Cheng and divorce him after a bit so that Wei Wuxian could remarry him.

The problem? He falls in love with Jiang Cheng.

In either scenario Lan Wangji falls for Jiang Cheng and... well.. he doesn't *want* to divorce him. This has the potential for drama because both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng feel betrayed by Lan Wangji once this comes out. Wei Wuxian will confront Lan Wangji because when are you going to divorce him?! Lan Wangji keeps stalling somehow Jiang Cheng finds out.. maybe he overhears their conversation or maybe Wei Wuxian in a fit of anger at Lan Wangji for having Jiang Cheng's love now, tells Jiang Cheng everything

Jiang Cheng of course is doubly heartbroken and betrayed because he can't believe that Wei Wuxian would actually have someone else make him fall in love with them and marry them only to divorce him just to let him be with Wei Wuxian (yes Wei Wuxian loves him but it's selfish of him not to consider that Jiang Cheng would be heartbroken at a second divorce no matter how amicable because for Jiang Cheng to get married in the first place to another person meant he would have had to love them dearly and of course he'd have moved on from Wei Wuxian by then to this new person so no guarantee he'd go back to Wei Wuxian at all).

And of course he's more hurt by Lan Wangji who he was now in love with because it meant that Lan Wangji approached him with ulterior motives and if the relationship started on a lie then how could Jiang Cheng believe any of Lan Wangji's feelings were real? From the beginning Lan Wangji had no intention of being with Jiang Cheng He was just stringing Jiang Cheng along and faking everything to get Jiang Cheng to agree to marry him. Jiang Cheng is crushed. But Lan Wangji refuses to divorce him. He would not make the same mistake as Wei Wuxian and let Jiang Cheng go. Jiang Cheng was rightfully upset with him but Lan Wangji was willing to grovel as long as it took.

Even if Wei Wuxian was angry with Lan Wangji, Lan Wangji couldn't help himself. He knew Wei Wuxian loved Jiang Cheng but... well he did now too. If it's the first scenario where they're just friends, maybe Lan Wangji decides Jiang Cheng is more important than Wei Wuxian but Lan Wangji is still his friend so he tries to convince Wei Wuxian that he and Jiang Cheng divorced for a reason and that Wei Wuxian was just accustomed to Jiang Cheng being around his entire life and needed to put himself out there and find someone to love that wasn't just partially because of familiarity. Wei Wuxian of course is pissed at Lan Wangji anyway and still heartbroken

He really and truly lost Jiang Cheng. Not only was Jiang Cheng now married to Lan Wangji who was refusing to divorce him so there was no chance of remarrying him, but Jiang Cheng was also really hurt that Wei Wuxian would go behind his back and scheme. He felt Wei Wuxian had been selfish... if Wei Wuxian had been honest and tried to win Jiang Cheng back, then if Wei Wuxian's efforts had been sincere and Jiang Cheng gave him another chance, the marriage issue could have been resolved by both of them agreeing to Lan Wangji's help. But Wei Wuxian hadn't done that, he and Lan Wangji had played Jiang Cheng for a fool in Jiang Cheng's eyes.

And so Wei Wuxian had lost Jiang Cheng and he'd also lost a friendship with Lan Wangji because Lan Wangji had agreed to help him but instead had stolen Jiang Cheng from him. Even if Jiang Cheng was mad at Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng was more hurt and Wei Wuxian knew it was because Jiang Cheng really loved him, so if Lan Wangji grovelled enough he was sure Jiang Cheng would accept him Maybe Wei Wuxian goes out to drown his sorrows and ends up crying alone in a corner... he wakes up the next morning in a bed that he didn't recognise and high key panicked because he did not remember going home with anyone!

"Calm down, nothing happened," said a very amused voice.

The man had watched him flail around in confusion and panic and thought it adorable and hilarious but put him out of his misery anyway because it wasn't nice to scare him like that. Wei Wuxian looked over to see a huge, muscled dude with a grin on his face. 'Whoa' he thought, 'Hot'.

"Uh.. what am I doing here? And no offense but, who are you?"

"Nie Mingjue," came the response alongside another grin, and oh my were those dimples? "And as to why you're here.. you had a little too much and were crying all alone. I wanted to make sure you were okay and you basically spilled your life story. You passed out after a while and well I didn't know what else to do but to take you home and let you rest. Your phone was locked so I couldn't call anyone to come get you. I apologise but I didn't really have a choice at the moment."

"Oh." Wei Wuxian felt embarrassed that this man saw his sorry state. "You must think I'm pathetic." He hid his face in his hands sorrowfully.

"No. Maybe you made some mistakes but we all do, especially when emotions are involved. It's not pathetic."

Wei Wuxian strangely felt a bit better. Nie Mingjue was just really good at big brothering someone-- though he could tell from the looks he was getting as he made breakfast that this one definitely didn't see him as a brother. Well, that was ok. He might have red puffy eyes but when he smiled Wei Wuxian was breathtaking. Nie Mingjue would like very much to make him smile. Though not just yet of course, he was still getting over his ex.

But Nie Mingjue was a patient man. He could wait.

Of course Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji would eventually work things out because never let it be said that Lan Wangji wasn't good at simping. Eventually his efforts got through to Jiang Cheng and they had a proper conversation and Jiang Cheng expressed how hurt he was while Lan Wangji talked about how he fell for Jiang Cheng very quickly and he knew that he'd have a hard time doing what Wei Wuxian had asked, and by the time their wedding came around he knew he wasn't going to go through with it at all. He apologised too for not considering Jiang Cheng's feelings when he and Wei Wuxian planned things and acknowledged it was foolish.

It may have started out as a way to help Wei Wuxian but for Lan Wangji it very soon became real and he didn't fake things with Jiang Cheng, even in the beginning he hadn't exactly lied to Jiang Cheng he had just tried to talk to him about things they had in common and to get to know him.

Once he convinced Jiang Cheng that it wasn't fake and his feelings were real, they were able to 'start over' on more honest ground and Lan Wangji took the opportunity to woo him again. They also managed to have a conversation with Wei Wuxian and to clear the air. Lan Wangji apologised to him as well because well, he really did betray Wei Wuxian in a way. And Wei Wuxian acknowledged it was immature and selfish of him to try and control Jiang Cheng's relationship status so that he'd get back with Wei Wuxian. The biggest surprise was when Wei Wuxian introduced them to his new boyfriend but it was a happy surprise, they were glad for him.

Of course if it's the second scenario where Lan Wangji was in love with Wei Wuxian and volunteered himself to marry Jiang Cheng so Wei Wuxian could have him back because he wanted to see Wei Wuxian happy.. aka he was doing it all for Wei Wuxian without regard for Jiang Cheng up until he went and fell for Jiang Cheng himself... it'd be a little more complicated. ie. Jiang Cheng would be even more hurt i think in this scenario because if Lan Wangji was in love with Wei Wuxian then how could he love Jiang Cheng?

Still Lan Wangji would refuse to divorce him but he would be struggling because he loved Jiang Cheng and he knew he messed up big time but he also loved Wei Wuxian and he messed up on that front too because one he wasn't going to divorce Jiang Cheng but two he still loved Wei Wuxian as well so he didn't want to see Wei Wuxian hurt but Wei Wuxian felt hurt and betrayed by him. Of course this could become zhanchengxian if they all manage to work things out.