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prettyboykatsuki · 2 years ago

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

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

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

all sexual content present in this part.

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

⊹ wc ; 18.4k / 36.1k

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

LINK TO PART ONE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snow is falling.

Come Saturday, Gojo receives a knock on his door.

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo soothes you silently, putting a hand up.

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

You sigh, closing your eyes and bracing yourself.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, uhm, then,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could I borrow your shower?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stupid.”

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

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

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

When the water rushes, he follows you.

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

For someone like you, it’s probably impossible.

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

You trust him, or you try too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Morning. Are you making breakfast?”

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

You roll your eyes at him, but smile anyway

“Guess I’ll be the judge of that,”

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

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

“Get started on some coffee maybe,”

You nod your head and yawn.

“Sounds good to me,”

You decide to stay for a week.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Clothes?” You repeat.

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

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

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

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

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

The power of love, he thinks almost whimsically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort.

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

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

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

“Change in management,”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. See you” )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Is it okay to ask what happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You say that so easily,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe when he was 17.

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

“How are you not crying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because of your friend, right?”

Gojo smiles.

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

“Like?” You ask, curious.

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

You’re silent for a while, again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You see Gojo as human, still.

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

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

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

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

For now, he smiles at you.

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

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

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

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

“Scouts honor,”

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

“What was that?”

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

Gojo stares.

“Yeah. Thanks.”)

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

Today is the 7th day.

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

Night falls on the 7th day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he talks, his voice tender.

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

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

“W-what are you…? What do you mean?”

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

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

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

You look so frightened.

“Wh-what are you..?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-Satoru,”

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

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

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

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

“Satoru, please, I don’t—don’t want—”

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

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

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

“I don’t,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You remain silent, so Gojo fills the space.

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

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

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

Despair flashes in your expression.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cry out, pitchy and broken. Gojo laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So dependent like Gojo always thinks you should be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scowl at him (you try too).

“Open your legs, baby,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Satoru, its.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-satoru, pleasemakemecum—please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Communication stills.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A way to tend to it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tick. Tick. Tick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

“H-how’d you…?”

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

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

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

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

You stare at Gojo for a long time.

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

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

You look agape as he relays this to you.

“Share…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo reaches down and wipes them off for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo stares back, a predator with its fangs bared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo brings you home quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is a lesson in divine truth.

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

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

This is a lesson in divine truth.

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

“Can you guess what I want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He takes a deep breath, whispering to your skin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon. You can look.”

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

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

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

“Fuck that’s it,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not a question or a request.

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

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

“Hurt too much?”

“N-no. Just… feels weird.”

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

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

“Still okay?”

You nod weakly.

“Can I move?”

Your reply is nothing more than a whimper.

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

‘O-oh. Oh, oh it’s,”

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

“Starting to feel good?”

“S-satoru.”

He swears.

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

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

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

“Touch yourself for me, okay?”

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

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

Now this part of you is all his too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And with this, he’s taken everything.

EPILOGUE / OVERTURE :

Your senses are accustomed to Gojo by now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is not the cold.

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

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

A dog howls somewhere far off in the distance.

#writing tag #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #noncon cw #yandere cw #manipulation cw #coercion cw

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weirdsht · 3 months ago

Note

What if i have an idea and it's orv's "incarnation kim dokja will be killed at the hands of the person he loves most" BUT it's reader and cale

May Our Fates Intertwine Once More - Cale/Reader

notes: 1. Anon I'm sorry for taking so long to write your req; and 2. I'm sorry to everyone who saw the small preview I posted before and thought it was fluff.

tags: fluff, no gender specified for reader, novel spoiler (sealed god's test), hurt no comfort, angst, death, canon divergence from 620

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist

One moment you were next to Cale then the next second you’re standing in the middle of an unknown place with this weird half-transparent blue screen in front of you.

[Quest List:]

[1. Pass the tutorial

2. Launch a widescale attack on the safe zones during the eclipse

3. Die after fighting a magnificent battle at the hands of the person who loves you the most]

“What the fuck…”

You cursed as you read what the screen says. You tried to see if you could touch it but something else popped up as soon as your finger made contact with it.

[WARNING!! WARNING!!]

[All injuries sustained in this body will be mirrored in your real body!]

“This isn’t my real body? But it looks the same.”

It really does. The only thing that has changed is your clothes. You’re wearing something that fits the image of a deity.

Still confused, you look around you. There’s nothing you recognized. But it does look like you’re somewhere abandoned.

[A message has arrived! Tap here to read!]

You tapped the new overlay that popped up and it instantly brought you to the message.

[Are you enjoying your lover’s original world?]

The anonymous message said. Immediately, you had an inkling as to who it could be.

“What the fuck? You must be that stupid god presence we felt back there.”

[Such brash words while talking to a god… Anyway, are you aware of where your lover is?]

“His around here too right? What the hell did you do to him?”

[Nothing much. His just under my test to overcome his despair. I’m waiting for him to be consumed by it so he can take my hand.]

“Knowing Cale, I'm sure he’ll overcome it. He’d rather die than work with you.”

[That’s where you come in dear.]

You feel like you can hear the god’s vile laughter even through the screen. But you wondered how you’d help meet Cale’s demise. Unless a demon possesses you to the point where you can’t control yourself, you won't do it.

Then it dawned on you.

The mission.

[3. Die after fighting a magnificent battle at the hands of the person who loves you the most]

“HAHAHAHAHAHA! You’re quite witty, aren’t you? On the bright side, I found out Cale loves me the most thanks to you.”

[It’s great, isn’t it? If you don’t do your missions you’ll be stuck here forever. If you do them you’ll die. Whatever you do you love must say goodbye. An instant recipe for despair.]

“We’ll see about that. You might be underestimating me too much.”

You pointed your middle finger towards the screen with messages before closing it.

Getting past the tutorial was easy. Turns out you have an inventory that contains countless supplies of food and other necessities. You also have the ability to summon monsters.

The same monsters your lover told you he fought in his previous life before becoming Cale Henituse.

“Ho? This is interesting. It feels like I’m playing a game of some sort.”

You said no one in particular as you read the descriptions of the monsters at your disposal. You spend the whole day navigating the screen that calls itself the “status window”. According to it, you have the whole day free today as the eclipse will happen tomorrow.

As you take yourself on a tour of your inventory one particular item catches your attention.

[Sword of Liubi Duplicate]

It was your sword. Well, a duplicate of it. It was given to you by Cale after you first met. Clicking on the sword, you read what properties would its copy have.

[A sword replicated from your world. It’s strong, probably one of the strongest swords on Earth 2 despite being nerfed. However, since it’s a duplicate it will only have half of its original prowess. It is still a remarkable weapon nonetheless.]

Some of the terms used like “nerfed” you don’t understand as they don’t exist in your world. But it still gave you a general idea as to what the status of your sword is.

Well, it’s better than nothing.

Plus you think the only time you’d have to use it is when you fight Cale so it’s better that it’s not as strong as before.

“Either way I die huh…”

You mumbled as you stared up at the ceiling of the abandoned house you found. Usually, a person would not be able to stay in such a place so leisurely. However, since the monsters won’t touch you it's a different story.

“What am I getting sad for? I was supposed to die way back! I’m just fulfilling it now…”

It’s the truth. If it wasn’t for your lover and his friends you would’ve died a long time ago. You guess someone bound to die early will die early.

You dismissed the thoughts of your death out of your head. Instead, you focused your energy on thinking about how you would get Cale to fight you so he could complete his mission.

With those thoughts in mind, you slowly fell asleep.

“Okay, this is kind of fun… but I feel bad since Cale and the others are fighting the things I summoned.”

You’re on top of a building. A good distance away from Cale– no Kim Rok Soo’s safe zone but still near enough to be able to observe what’s happening.

“Is that Choi Han? At first I felt bad for them, but now I feel bad for myself. They’ll finish my babies in no time!”

Observing Choi Han and the others fighting, you kept summoning more monsters. The monsters you summon are regulated by the status window but you still find some joy in doing it.

It is getting tiring though.

You can’t believe you have to keep doing this for 24 hours straight. You’re not even getting paid…

[Alert!]

[One (1) of your “Grade 1 Taster Monsters” have broken from the pack]

[Alert!]

[Two (2) of your “Grade 1 Taster Monsters” have broken from the pack]

“What the hell? I swear my dearest must have an ancient power that allows him to gather powerful beings. His even stealing away my babies.”

You huffed in frustration as you watched two of your summons go over to Kim Rok Soo’s side.

“Isn’t this whole thing too good for me though? Everything I need to survive is free… And summoning monsters doesn’t cost anything.”

[It's the least I could do for someone bound to die either way]

That pesky god messaged you again.

“Well look at you being Mr. Nice. Are you flirting with me? Sorry, I’m taken.”

For emphasis, you brought up your ring finger that contained your engagement ring. As if flipping the god off.

[Blasphemous as ever. It tempts me to take you as one of my children. Too bad you won’t be able to take in the despair that comes as a price.]

“Yeah yeah. Just shut up. It’s not like I have any plans teaming up with a god.”

Sealed God shut up and you lived the next days in peace.

You have the monsters at your disposal that can do whatever you need them to do. And you have no quest assigned to you aside from that dying one. Your mind has also been at ease as you have a general plan as to how you’ll get your love to fight you one-on-one.

[New Mission Alert!]

[Summon one (1) Electric Eel in Gwangalli Beach]

Gwangalli Beach where is that? You have absolutely no idea. In fact, you’re tired of your status window acting as if you were from this world.

“I’m sure the monster will know where it is…”

Convincing yourself that your summons will know where it is you summoned a flying monster to take you to that place.

Luckily, your assumption was correct. In no time you were where you need to be.

“Status window summon one Electric Eel… Who named this thing? I mean it’s a snake that will be summoned from the sea, and has electricity as one of its powers. But Electric Eel? Seriously?”

After bashing the monster’s name a little, you summoned it.

“I’m sure you already know what to do…”

You mumbled to the monster before going away to hide before someone saw you.

All that’s left for you to do is watch and wait for your entrance.

3 days. That’s how many days it took for them to defeat the Electric Eel.

While everyone was doing that you were watching on top of the building. Your robed dress flows freely in the wind as you do so. There were a lot of instances you wanted to intervene. Wanted to go help the love of your life and the man you considered your brother.

But alas you couldn’t.

The status window with only one quest left reminded you of that every time.

[Are you ready for the final act?]

Sealed God messaged you again. As if laughing at your inevitable demise.

“Just watch my performance. It’ll be spectacular.”

For a moment you were tempted to curse him out as you usually would. However, you decided that if you’re gonna go out today, you’re going out with grace and elegance. It's only fitting as the fiance of a duke’s son.

[Player _____ will be killed at the hands of the person that loves them the most]

[The last arc of the game…]

[Starts Now]

Ignoring the status window, you ride the flying monster waiting for you. It’s the same monster that brought you to the beach before.

“I worked so hard just for you to defeat my baby.”

You gently spoke as you gracefully descended from the monster's back and onto the dead Electric Eel.

“...That’s your baby?”

Kim Rok Soo mumbled quite mournfully. He was supposed to be your baby after all.

“Wait how are you even here?”

He asked. Looking at you curiously.

“Oh, I’m the one summoning all the monsters you’ve been fighting. Was it fun? Ah, don’t ask me where they come from though. I have no idea where they came from. I can only summon them.”

You spoke as if there was nothing wrong. As if you guys aren't standing on the opposite sides of the battlefield.

“_____-nim…”

Choi Han, the man you have come to consider your brother, slowly called out to you.

“What are you doing?”

He asks, not minding the whispers from the people around you three.

“So that’s what happened to my Dark Tiger… Asking permission to borrow my things would have been appreciated, Your Highness.”

You addressed Alberu first before answering the swordmaster’s question.

“Don’t you still get it? Every play must end with the hero defeating the evil mastermind! And you Kim Rok Soo…”

The sword you summoned on the way here pointed towards your lover.

“You shall be the one who strikes the final blow.”

Kim Rok Soo’s brain connected the pieces. You smile while observing him. And that smile pissed him off.

Because you were smiling as if everything was okay.

As if you hadn’t just announced your death.

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll be stuck here and die. You wouldn’t want that would you?”

“So I just have to kill you here?”

‘And then you’ll return to my arms in our world?’

You knew the silent question that lingered in the commander’s reddish-brown eyes.

“Yes.”

Yet you ignored it. Letting him believe that everything will be fine. That you will only die in this world. That nothing will happen to you in your world and all shall be well.

It was for his own good.

The only way for him to not fall into despair once more.

Drawing your sword once again, you beckoned for your lover to fight you.

“Everyone else stay back. I’ll summon another unranked monster if you interfere.”

“Follow what they say and just watch.”

You and Kim Rok Soo said before your powers clashed with each other.

Lightning after lightning struck you. However, your sword blocked most of them. Dodging the ones you couldn’t block.

When it was your turn to attack, you struck your sword towards Cale. Each slash either landed on the Indestructible Shield or was blocked by the Fire of Destruction.

“Your sword is stronger than this. I did not give you such a flimsy thing.”

Cale spoke as you failed to cut through his shield once more.

“Don’t worry this isn’t the one you gave– Ugh!”

A lightning struck you. Cale used it as an opportunity to land more hits.

“I was talking you know? You’re as rude as ever. Anyway, this one is a duplicate.”

Your sword managed to land a cut on the commander’s arm. Everyone else watched the two of you. People who don’t know you were wondering how can the two of you fight while bantering as if your lives aren’t on the line.

But not everyone in the audience didn’t know you. Two people in there knew you very well.

“I’m going back first. Something about this feels off.”

Alberu told Choi Han who was gripping his scabbard tightly.

“His Majesty is going first?”

“Seems like it.”

You can Cale continued talking as you fight. It reminded you of the small talks he would engage you in as you train.

It reminded you that this is probably the last time you will be able to talk to him like this.

“Ow! That hurts you know!”

A particular attack from the Sky Eating Water rendered you unable to pick up the sword. Cale took this as an opportunity to hold you down using the trees summoned earlier to fight the Electric Eel.

You watch as Cale turns off his Sound of the Wind. He walks towards you at a leisurely pace, picking up your sword on the way.

“I’m sorry.”

He said and you noticed his hand tremble ever so slightly.

“Don’t be. I’m happy that it’s you. Do you want to know what’s the prerequisite of my death?”

Cale did not answer but you said it anyway.

“I shall die by the hands of the one that loves me the most. That’s what it said.”

The commander’s eyes shook along with his hand.

“That’s why I’m glad…”

Blood spilt from your mouth as your sword stabbed your heart. From the corner of your eye, you could see Choi Han running towards where you are.

“_____-nim!”

Your brother called out to you as Cale let go of his control on the trees in favour of holding you instead.

There’s still blood spilling from your mouth but that didn’t stop you from smiling at him. Your smile was weak and tired, but it was the best you could do at the moment.

“I’m fine…”

You assured Cale squeezing your hand.

“I’ll be waiting for you in our world. So don’t be sad okay? Remember you have to overcome despair.”

“Promise?”

Cale asked you as he cradled your body in his chest.

“I promise.”

You left out the part that you’ll probably be dead or dying when he sees you.

Weakly, but full of determination you raised your left hand to link your pinkies together. The diamond in your engagement ring shone as you did. Meanwhile, your right hand is being held by Choi Han.

They said that your life will flash in your eyes at your last moments. No such thing happened to you. But you did remember a conversation that you and your lover had prior to this whole thing.

“So you’re birthday is on November 8th? Why are you only telling me this now? There’s so little time to prepare a gift for you!”

“What are you talking about it’s still so far away?”

“No, it’s not! It’s not enough time for me to prepare the perfect gift for you.”

That’s right, today is November 8 in this world. It’s Cale’s birthday…

“In Raon’s castle… My gift is there. He should know about it…”

“You can just give it to me yourself when we get back.”

Cale answered and you almost laughed at his cluelessness.

“...Happy birthday my love. May you always find happiness.”

Those were your last words before you took your last breath. Before your body slowly turned into dust in Cale’s hold.

But Cale wasn’t in despair even as you die.

He may be sad, but he wasn’t in despair.

It was because he was holding onto your words that you’d meet him back home.

That’s how Cale was able to pass the Sealed God’s test.

But why…

“MOVE ASIDE, LET PENDRICK AND SAINT-NIM HANDLE IT!”

Why was the first thing he heard as soon as he came back Alberu’s shouting when he was supposed to be in his castle making preparations?

“CALL FOR MORE HEALERS WE’RE LOSING _____-NIM!”

“_____ wake up. Please wake up.”

Alberu and Raon’s voice rang on his head.

At that moment. Rosalyn and Eruhaben noticed that he was back. They quickly greeted him before calling over Raon and Sherrit to remove the barrier that surrounded him.

“What’s happening?”

Cale asks as he enters the room where the shouts are coming from.

The sight made him stop in his tracks.

Laying on a grass bed that’s similar to where he was just a few minutes ago was his lover. His fiance.

They were lying there. Bleeding.

On the heart.

Exactly where Cale had stabbed them back on Earth.

A realisation dawned on him at the moment.

You just promised that you would meet him back home.

You did not promise that you would meet him alive.

Cale, the fool, had only assumed you would.

#le asks #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #tcf #lcf #cale henituse #lotcf #totcf #alberu crossman #choi han #cale x reader #cale henituse x reader #tcf x reader #lcf x reader #totcf x reader #lotcf x reader

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sharuruwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Another

I'm in love with the idea Of dying with you in my arms But not like this - The Bird song by Noah Floersch

Tags: Osamu Dazai x Fem!Reader, Angst, inspiration from BEAST manga, unedited, Reader works as a florist, lots of deaths, Dazai being a Yandere in one of his past lives?, Unalive oneself, fluff

A/n: haven't read the manga, but hearing these specific lines from that song two days ago while driving to home, made me write this. I do recommend to look up hanakotoba or Japanese Flower Language after reading this one shot.

------------------------------------

The ability to experience and remembered all past lives sounded a good idea in theory. However, one must expect that not everything would be the same as one hoped it'll be.

Unfortunately, Osamu Dazai was blessed? or perhaps cursed? He really didn't know at this point as he lost count in how many lives he started and ended. Dazai was too busy studying the lady's beautiful features behind the glass window of a flower shop.

Someone was so lovely and brimming with life, but so far within his reach. The carefree smile on your face never changed either.

Yes, this wasn't his first encounter of you. In fact, in every life he experienced, a very special constant existed. He unexpectedly believed he would get his desired ending.

You.

Despite your profession being the same through the many lifetimes, you always have a different favourite flower and a different ending.

In the first book, the scent of red roses was constant to him as you always greeted him with it. It was a fall at first sight. Stolen kisses, intimate conversations, and silence filled with affection. Love and Passion -- those two words described what his first relationship was like with you. Just the existence of you was enough to fill the void he found in his tiring world.

Yet, his enemies found out his 'weakness', and the last thing he remembered from that life was rage and anger directed at everything after your corpse was delivered to him.

In the next book, your first meeting, Dazai brushed his fingers against yours as you were reaching for the soft hydrangeas. Memories from the previous book haunted him, and swore to himself that he would do everything to keep you safe. The moment you fell for him he ensnared you, and locked you up in his apartment like a caged bird.

Dazai took advantage of your kind heart by threatening to take his life if you dared to go outside. His fear of losing you and his stubborn pride drove you to insanity. Instead of an obedient and dependent beloved welcoming him home, he found you dead with an empty bottle of sleeping pills.

In one of the books and after many more tragedies, Dazai vowed to not fall for you, but fate was a such a cruel mistress to suffering. Everywhere he went, you were there, wearing a metallic spider-like flower brooch.

Since when fucking Yokahama city became a small town for him to see you so easily?

Dazai avoided you like a plaque, but it's unavoidable as you were somehow acquainted with the agency's mad doctor, Yosano. During your visits in the agency, longing still filled him as he caught glimpses of you. Dazai yearned to be the one who makes you smile effortlessly.

After he gathered the courage to approach you, he witnessed a car crash as your body flung across the busy street of the city. His mind screamed at him to get close to you, but he stood still as his eyes locked onto the bloodied flower brooch on your dress.

That's where realization hit Dazai. Whether it be from the start or from the end, you and him were doomed. He's enamoured to a dream -- to die alongside of a beautiful lady. But, if it meant a countless partings with you attached to your tragic end, why would he wished for it?

Although all hope may seemed lost, Dazai dreamt of a very peaceful scenery last night that ignited his hope of a happy ending with you.

"I know we just got married," Dazai cupped your face, and his thumb caressed your cheek. "But, will you marry me in our next life?"

You leaned further to his touch with your eyes getting misty. "Well, as long as you hear me say yes."

With a deep breath, Dazai walked into your flower shop. The bell rang, and the flowers' scent filled his senses. He took a moment to enjoy the sight before him—the roses, carnations, and lilies, all so pretty. He felt himself smile at the sight, as if he hadn't seen them in years. He had never thought much of flowers, but after he met you, he found himself falling in love with them.

"Welcome!" you called from behind the counter, greeting him. "How may I help you?"

"Instead of help," Dazai plucked a cluster of small blue flowers from a nearby vase. "Can't I just give a beautiful lady like you a flower?"

"Oh," You meekly accepted the flower. "How did you know that forget-me-nots are my favourite?"

Dazai chuckled. "A lucky guess?"

#dazai angst #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #bsd angst #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #dazai fluff

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huntfeld · 15 days ago

Text

For You

Pairing: Tara Carpenter X Reader

Summary: In New York City, Tara Carpenter faces the aftermath of the Ghostface killings while grappling with her intense feelings for her possessive friend. As their bond deepens, they must navigate the chaos around them, ready to protect each other at all costs.

The streets of New York were alive with vibrant energy, but for Tara Carpenter, the noise faded into a distant hum. She stood by her apartment window, staring out at the city skyline. The chaos below felt worlds away from her life, which had been turned upside down by Ghostface's return. Even with the weight of the fear pressing on her, the only thought that consumed her mind was you—her closest confidant and the one person she couldn’t seem to shake off.

You had always been there, a constant in the whirlwind of her life, but recently, your presence felt charged with something more—something deeper. It was a warmth that both comforted and unsettled her.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, snapping her from her thoughts. A message from you glowed on the screen: I’m outside. Can we talk?

Her heart raced. Yeah, just a sec, she replied, quickly moving to let you in. You had a way of making her feel safe, even when the world around her was falling apart.

The door swung open, and you stepped inside, the cool evening air rushing in with you. “Hey,” you said softly, your gaze searching her face. “You okay?”

Tara nodded, forcing a smile despite the gnawing anxiety in her chest. “Yeah, just… a lot going on.”

You moved closer, your eyes darkening with concern. “I hate this for you. You don’t deserve any of it.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine,” she reassured, though your intensity made her heart race in a different way. The way you looked at her felt possessive, as if you were silently claiming her, and a shiver ran down her spine.

“Fine isn’t enough,” you murmured, stepping even closer. “I’d do anything to protect you, Tara. You mean everything to me.”

A flutter of something warm blossomed in her chest. “You don’t have to protect me,” she said, but even as she spoke, she felt the weight of your gaze on her, steady and unwavering.

“Maybe I want to,” you replied, your voice dropping to a low, husky whisper. “I’d die for you, Tara. You know that, right?”

Those words sent a rush of adrenaline through her. There was something intoxicating about the way you spoke, a raw honesty that both thrilled and terrified her. You took another step closer, and she could feel the heat radiating from your body.

“I don’t want anyone else to have you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your breath warm against her skin. “Not even for a second.”

Tara’s heart raced, caught in the tension between desire and fear. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“I mean,” you said, reaching out to cup her face with your hand, “I can’t bear the thought of someone taking you from me. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means keeping you close—really close.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against hers, and Tara’s breath hitched. The world outside melted away, and all that existed was the two of you, standing on the precipice of something beautiful and dangerous.

“Tara,” you murmured against her lips, “I need you to understand how serious I am. I’d do anything for you.”

“I believe you,” she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest. “But this feels different…”

“It is different,” you said, stepping back slightly to search her eyes. “I’m not just your friend anymore. I want more. I need you to be mine, fully.”

Your intensity made her head spin, and in that moment, she realized how much she craved you—your affection, your protection, your everything. It was a hunger that ignited a fire within her, burning away the fear that had consumed her.

“I want that too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But what if—”

You cut her off, your fingers gently tilting her chin up so she could meet your gaze. “There are no ‘what ifs’ with us. It’s just you and me, against the world.”

With that, you closed the distance between you, capturing her lips with yours in a heated kiss. It was soft at first, but the passion quickly escalated, the kind of kiss that made the world outside fade away. Tara melted against you, surrendering to the warmth and intensity that radiated between you.

As you pulled away, your foreheads resting against each other, Tara felt the weight of your promise. “I’ll always be here,” you said, your voice low and steady. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

Tara smiled, a mix of happiness and uncertainty swirling in her chest. “I trust you.”

“I’m not just saying this,” you continued, your tone serious. “I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to protect what’s ours. No one gets to touch you. Not now, not ever.”

The possessiveness in your voice sent a thrill through her, mixing fear with desire. She loved the way you cared for her, the lengths you were willing to go, but it also made her acutely aware of the darkness lurking beneath the surface.

“Promise me,” you said, “that you’ll stay with me. No matter what happens, don’t let them take you from me.”

“I promise,” she whispered, feeling the truth of her words. In that moment, Tara knew there was no turning back. She wanted you just as fiercely, ready to face whatever came next.

Together, you stepped into the night, hand in hand, ready to embrace the chaos of the world outside. But with you by her side, Tara felt like she could conquer anything, and she knew that she would do the same for you—because, in the end, you would both die for each other.

———

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knavesflames · 7 months ago

Text

“Promise”

Just a little thing about Clervie and Arlecchino that lowkey apart my heart thinking about it. Again, very sorry if this is not good!! Am new to writing things down other than in my notes sooo bear with me as I get better pls 😩

Contents: angst, the tiniest mention of self harm. It isn’t graphic, it is mentioned in passing only once, and very vaguely, but thought I’d put a TW anyway🥰

Word count: 2453

Writing under the cut!!:D

At age 9,

Peruere sits in the garden, holding the small box. The lid is open as she places a small lumidouce bell next to the spider. The lumidouce bell will die and wilt underground, but at least the spider won’t be lonely, she thinks.

“Peruere!”

The loud childish voices rings out in the garden once again. A sigh leaves Peruere’s lips. She isn’t in the mood to talk to the person she secretly calls sunshine. Looking down at the splayed out body of her pet spider, her lip quivers. Once, twice, before a tear falls onto the wood of the makeshift coffin. The dread rising in her as she sees her hands changing doesn’t go unnoticed, but she pushes it down. ‘What is that? Why am I changing?’

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sunshine once again, the voice now muffled with chewing.

“I brought cake. Want some?”

Peruere’s now charcoal hands take the cake, pausing as the sunshine (or Clervie, but Peruere prefers sunshine) takes it from her hands and places it on a leaf in front of the small grave.

“You must know spiders don’t eat cake.”

“Yeah, I know! They can’t eat cake here, but in spider world they can.”

Her voice is almost irritating to Peruere, who is only trying to be angsty and sad. But how can she be sad when the sunshine is right there?

“Clervie, I want to sit in silence.”

Clervie can’t help her eyebrows furrowing before she sits down with a small thud.

“I’ll sit with you, then.”

Peruere sighs as her eyes, eyes that are unlike any others in the house of the hearth, glance towards the sunshine. She doesn’t persist. Secretly, she’s glad for the company. Clervie smiles back as she plays with the small patch of lumidouce bells.

“I don’t care that you’re different. I think you’re cool.”

Her eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowing before she responds.

“Why? I’m completely different from you.”

“I like that. Even our teddies are different. I think everyone being the same is boring. They won’t be the king because they are all the same. You will be king one day, Peruere. Can I sit with you when you are?”

Peruere feels just a small amount of dread at those words. The words that remind her that one day, she indeed, will have to do what Mother says and fight to be king. Something is off about Mother, she thinks. She is too kind, too caring. She doesn’t like it. Not just because she doesn’t deserve it (that’s what she tells herself in the mirror before she sleeps), but because Clervie, the sunshine, is falling for it. In that moment, she makes a silent vow to protect the sunshine always, even if it is cloudy.

“We can be king together.”

“Do you promise? I don’t want to be left behind.”

“I promise.”

At age 11,

Peruere and Clervie, the sunshine and the moon, sit in a deserted part of the house of the hearth. Their favourite part is the room with the wide window, where they sit and stare at the sky, talking about their dreams. Or rather, Clervie talks, Peruere listens. Though this time, the roles seem to be reversed. Next to them, a tray of medical instruments. Scissors, bandages, gauze, disinfectant. Peruere sits, her blackened, gentle but clumsy hands tying a bow on one of the bandages. The look on Clervie, I mean, the sunshine’s, face was much brighter than ten minutes ago. This is the first of many times, unbeknownst to them. Peruere speaks softly.

“What happened? Your wrists looked like they got hurt.”

“Nothing, Peruere.”

Alarm bells ring in Peruere’s head. Clervie was never this closed off, not with her.

“Did you do this to yourself? Like Céline? She got upset at herself so she hurt herself. I don’t like that, tell me you didn’t do that. It’s dangerous, Clervie.”

Her eyes, shining black, filled with worry. Her hand grabs the sunshine’s, giving it a little squeeze, encouraging her to talk.

“No, that isn’t it. I argued. With Mother. I don’t want to fight everyone to be king. I want to be friends with everyone, I want to eat bulle fruit with everyone. Why do we have to fight?”

“I do not like it either. I want to run away sometimes. Do Mothers always argue with their daughters?”

“I don’t know.”

Clervie’s hands, still trembling from the adrenaline, push open the window. They stare at the stars for a while, before her voice rings out once more, soft, quiet, always optimistic.

“I heard that in Snezhnaya, coloured lights dance in the sky at night. When we grow up, shall we go see it together?”

Peruere wonders if they’ll ever go and see it, or if it’s just another empty promise. Just like how Mother promised her spider wouldn’t die, how the fish she caught wouldn’t be eaten.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

At age 13,

The sun shines. Both the actual sun, and Clervie, Peruere thinks. Her fingers are splayed out on the picnic blanket, the wet paint on her nails shining in the light when her fingers twitch. Painted black, like her skin on her arms, and red, the colour of the lipstick they stole from Mother a few weeks ago, the colour of Clervie’s hair. She makes a noise of satisfaction, secretly looking at Clervie through her fingers. It looks like she’s looking through prison bars, she thinks. But Clervie is the sun. If anyone should be in prison, it’s her, not Clervie. She doesn’t like the way she thinks about Mother, but Mother harms the sunshine. Her sunshine. Her eyes widen, just slightly as she realises that maybe feeling so warm and fuzzy inside whenever she sees Clervie isn’t exactly a usual way to think of people. She doesn’t feel that for anyone else. She stares a bit longer. How the red of Clervie’s hair reminds her of the burning sun. Of the fire in the lounge of the house of the hearth. Fire is good, she thinks. She could protect her sunshine with fire. In a split decision, she takes the red nail polish in one hand, a strand of her white hair in the other. Snow and blood. Blood on snow. Those colours seem to be awfully present in her life as of late, and her heart begins to twist as she thinks of what it means for her future. Before she can think any harder, Clervie’s giggle cuts through her thoughts.

“What are you doing, silly?”

Red paints on the snow coloured hair.

“I’m like you now. I have red hair. That way, we will stay friends forever.”

“I like you too much to leave you, silly. It looks good with your hair. The red. You should paint it every day, and that way, you can—“

Words are cut off by clumsy lips meeting clumsy lips. Only for a second, a second that feels forever. Peruere’s cheeks flush the colour of the painted strand as she mumbles apologetic words.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I-“

“It’s okay. I liked it. I want to do it more. You should still keep the red strand. Promise you will?”

“Yes, I promise.”

At age 16,

Mother has been increasingly cruel, to both her and Clervie. Especially to Clervie. How could someone be so evil to someone so kind is something Peruere cannot fathom. She despises seeing Clervie cry, to hear her quiet sobs at night. Her eyes are always bright, always happy. If not for her own sake, for Peruere’s. But the sun has been hiding lately, hiding behind clouds and avoiding words. The red strand of Peruere’s hair, once painted every day with nail polish to match Clervie’s, now permanently dyed, retouched every eight weeks, hidden under most of her hair to avoid Mother’s wrath. And now? They stand in the field, Clervie, facing Peruere with resigned eyes.

“You know it’s the only way. Mother will kill us both if you are not king. Have you not noticed the children disappearing?”

“I have. It does not mean your life has to end. You cannot take your life—“

“No. That will not satisfy Mother, and you know that. You must do it.”

Hate, fear, dread and sadness twist Peruere’s gut so hard she feels as if she will throw up. She fight the urge to retch at the very suggestion that she dulls the sunshine she has grown to adore so.

“I cannot. I will not. You cannot ask me to do something like that.”

“You must.”

She hates that Clervie is right. She hates that Mother is so twisted and sick that this is the only choice. She begs anyway, something she told herself she would never do.

“Please. We were supposed to go to Snezhnaya together. To see the coloured lights in the sky. There is no ‘we’ without you.”

A chuckle is heard, the familiar chuckle that lights up Peruere’s heart, the chuckle that feels like it’ll reverse her curse entirely. She can’t deny the sadness she hears in it though, especially not when she sees a tear slip down Clervie’s face. The sight brings tears to her own eyes and she looks away, unable to stare at her any longer. The longer she stares, the harder it will be. She knows this, but her eyes move back to her anyway.

“You will look at the coloured lights, and you can trust I will be there in them.”

“No! This is not fair.”

“You know I’m right, Peruere.”

“And I hate that you are. You’re always damn right. Stop that.”

Another chuckle is heard behind tears.

“I plan to.”

“Don’t joke.”

“I’m sorry. And I’m sorry you have to do this.”

Peruere feels like her breath is being sucked out of her, like she can’t inhale enough and yet, exhaling is impossible. Her brain is telling her she has to. She has to give the sunshine a merciful end, lest Mother give her a far worse fate. But her heart is screaming. Tears drip down her face, her body wracked with silent cries. Her hand goes to the hilt of the dagger she always carries.

“But I love you. You are my sunshine.”

“I love you, too. And so I will always be here when the sun is shining. I am not afraid.”

“I am.”

Peruere is not one to be scared. She never has. But now, her hands are clammy, she feels a sweat gathering. She feels her heart thumping in a completely different way than when they share small kisses and giggles. She feels like she’s killing herself instead of her love. The dagger is unsheathed now, the blade glinting with every tremble of her hand. Oh, God, there it is again. That smile, the one that melts Peruere every time. Images flash in her mind of every time she bandages Clervie after an argument with Mother. Images of what could happen should Mother take Clervie’s life into her own hands, and before she can think twice, the dagger has pierced her skin. Clervie’s clothes are staining with blood as red as her hair.

“No. No, no— please. Clervie, you can’t. Why did you tell me to do this?”

Red ‘X’ irises stare into blue ones. A beautiful bluey green, one that Peruere has always admired. Has always adored looking into. Not now. Not while she watches the life drain from her eyes. Watching the sun burn.

“You will make a great king.”

“Stop that.”

Anger boils inside Peruere, anger like she has never felt before. She swears she will kill anyone who threatens to hurt the ones she cares about. She won’t let this happen again.

“I’m sorry. Thank you.”

Clervie’s soft words fill her ears for the final time before her body drops to the floor with a thunk. Peruere stares down at her, anger filling her so greatly, she becomes blank. She decides she will never feel again. She will never love again. The sun was a star, but the sun has burned and died.

“Do you promise you will be with me in Snezhnaya? Promise?”

“..Clervie?”

She is met with only silence, and the sound of the lumidouce bells waving in the wind.

At age 28,

Arlecchino walks through the halls of the House of the Hearth, watching stoically as the children play, as they watch the two children perform their magic show. She calls out, her voice strict, unfeeling.

“Meet in the dining hall when you are finished. Dinner is served shortly.”

Met with a chorus of “Yes Father”, she nods, satisfied, before turning away. Her heels click against the tiled floor as she walks through the halls, her hair flowing in her ponytail behind her. She takes the long route, avoiding the west wing of bedrooms, something she has avoided for many years. Her footfalls come to a stop as the sun hits her as it shines through the window. She feels a tug at her heart, and she clenches her fists tightly before sighing, turning quickly on her heel. She walks with purpose, walking past the many bedrooms until she slows, coming to a stop in front of the bedroom door she has kept locked. The ring of keys in her pocket makes a sound as she pulls them out, and she listens to the way they jingle as she unlocks the door and slips inside. She blinks back heartache as she stares around at the room. It has been well preserved, it looks like it’s still very much lived in by a sixteen year old girl. She goes about, dusting the surfaces in silence, cleaning up any signs that it hasn’t been touched in such a long time. She opens the window, watering the lumidouce bells that sit on the windowsill outside. She stops by the bed, where two teddies sit— one pink with a white ribbon, one black and white with red ‘X’s for eyes. Her hand, now black with darker patterns all over from how far the curse has advanced, softly pets the pink one, swallowing down a shaky breath. Her nails, painted red and black, like they always have been, gives a gentle scratch under the chin.

“Good morning, Clervie. The children are doing well today.”

Her hand slides into her pocket, pulling out a small, gift wrapped box, placing it by the teddy.

“Happy birthday. I told you I would not forget. The sun is shining brightly, and the colours in the sky at night have been vivid lately. You would have found them beautiful, I am sure. I would have loved to look at you as you stared at them in wonder.”

The birthday gift joins another 11 on the bed, each one in different phases of aging. She stands again, smoothing down the bedsheets before placing a small kiss on the pink teddy.

“See you next year, Clervie. I promise.”

#arlecchino hc #arlecchino genshin #arlebina #arlechinno genshin #arlechinno x reader #arlefuri #genshin impact #arle #genshin smut #genshin wlw #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #clervie #peruere #arlecchino smut #genshin impact arlecchino #arlecchino #genshin imagines

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nyoomerr · 10 months ago

Note

Only if you want but phantom thief! Binghe x rich boy Shen Yuan, heir to a famous jeweler/jewerly store business.

It can be Bingge or Binghe, whatever you want! Love your work!

dont mind me using this as a sort-of warm up for writing a much bigger bingge pov binggeyuan thing ehehe 😌 ty for sending this prompt in!

---

Luo Binghe does not get caught. It’s in his title, even - a phantom thief, completely untouchable.

Well, perhaps not completely untouchable. After all, many times the most efficient way to get his hands on a particularly valuable set of jewelry is to let the lady wearing it put her hands on him. Flirtations and bold fondling in a dark corner of a party, hands on the woman’s face and shoulders and the diamond necklace around her neck -

Normal things for someone in Luo Binghe’s line of work, really, when that someone looks the way Luo Binghe does. Charm is as indispensable a tool as a lockpick.

It’s only a tool that Luo Binghe dares to use when he knows it will be well received, though. Unwelcome advances are more likely to get a mark to grow more defensive on all lines, not just towards sexual advances, and then the whole job gets more difficult. Still not impossible - not for Luo Binghe - but Luo Binghe has a messy habit of turning theft into murder when he’s faced with rejection.

It isn’t his fault. The people who turn Luo Binghe away - who look at him with cold disinterest and disgusted sneers plastered across their ugly, painted faces - they deserve to die. Luo Binghe is only doing the world a service.

Still, the cleanup becomes much more difficult when Luo Binghe’s mouth is stained with blood rather than smeared lipstick, so he learns to assess his marks carefully. Those that would think themselves clever and better than Luo Binghe get stolen from in the traditional sense, and they never see Luo Binghe during the process.

Shen Yuan is one such mark. Oh, Luo Binghe could break him in, probably - he watches from a distance as Shen Yuan’s eyes linger on the strong forearms of the barista who hands him his coffee, and he knows without testing that Luo Binghe could fluster such a small thing like Shen Yuan without much effort.

To actually touch Shen Yuan, however, would be far more difficult. Luo Binghe knows this much from even the most basic of background searches: Shen Yuan takes pretty girls to banquets despite never touching them, and the way he dresses… yes, Shen Yuan certainly would like to think of himself as a straight man, the poor thing. Not the sort of nut Luo Binghe cares to crack when it’s for business rather than pleasure.

Besides, most of Shen Yuan’s valuables are kept in his family’s home. The pretty things Luo Binghe could nick off Shen Yuan’s person are limited and hardly the most enticing of Shen Yuan’s things, so there’s no need to push it.

Shen Yuan will simply be the sort of mark that never sees Luo Binghe, never gets close enough to touch.

That’s the sort of mark Shen Yuan is supposed to be.

“Um,” Shen Yuan says, standing awkwardly in the doorway of the very high security office that Luo Binghe has just broken into. “Can I, um. Help you…?”

Luo Binghe stares at him. He’s just finished picking the lock on one of the glass cabinets in the office, and he knows that from Shen Yuan’s perspective he must have a very clear view of the ruby earrings that Luo Binghe had plucked from the case.

He doesn’t stare long. Hesitating only ever gets someone caught, and Luo Binghe does not get caught.

The office has no windows, so Luo Binghe will have to exit through the door that Shen Yuan is standing in. He turns to face Shen Yuan fully - he empty hand neatly plucking a few more pieces from the cabinet and tucking them in his pockets as he moves - and starts sauntering over to Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan was not meant to be one of the marks he seduced, but plans can change. He’ll just need to fluster Shen Yuan long enough to make it past him to one of the several exit plans Luo Binghe had planned.

That should be enough - Shen Yuan is only wearing an oversized shirt and boxers, clearly having gotten up from bed without dressing properly, and he doesn’t appear to be carrying anything in his hands. All that together means he’s likely not carrying his phone, and Luo Binghe knows the security schedule well enough to know that Shen Yuan yelling wouldn’t have anyone arriving quick enough to stop him.

Shen Yuan takes half a step back as Luo Binghe approaches, but he doesn’t leave the doorway. He must have some idea that he’s the only obstacle in Luo Binghe’s way, then. Luo Binghe smiles at him, only half faking the predatory look of it.

“Yuan-er,” Luo Binghe croons, and Shen Yuan shuffles back another half foot, his ears turning pink where they stick out from some truly terrible bed head.

Spoiled, Luo Binghe thinks in the privacy of his own mind, poisonous and bitter. A child who’s always been allowed laziness.

“Yuan-er, you’ve really got to put better locks on your things,” Luo Binghe says as he approaches. “Isn’t this your family’s precious legacy? That sort of thing should be protected…”

Shen Yuan’s brows furrow. Luo Binghe can very clearly read the baffled what the fuck that silently twists his lips, but Luo Binghe doesn’t react.

That’s it, little rabbit - just stand there, and let yourself be confused and taken aback by the thief in front of you, and I’ll escape before you have to worry your spoiled little head about it.

Luo Binghe is only a few paces away, now. He’ll brush past Shen Yuan’s right side to avoid getting caught on the arm he has resting on the doorway, and -

“Say please,” Shen Yuan says, glaring up at Luo Binghe as he crosses his arms.

Luo Binghe falters. “What was that, Yuan-er?”

“You’re clearly capable of sweet talk, so you should start with asking nicely before you take our shit,” Shen Yuan scoffs.

Luo Binghe stops in front of Shen Yuan, close enough that Shen Yuan has to tilt his head up to maintain eye contact with him.

He should just brush past, really. Shen Yuan is small, and Luo Binghe already knows he doesn’t have a way to raise alarm in an effective way.

Luo Binghe does not brush past.

He kind of wants to slit Shen Yuan’s throat for thinking he has any right to tell Luo Binghe to say please, sitting comfortably in the lap of luxury like he is.

“I’m impressed,” Luo Binghe says, his smile so sharp it may as well just be a baring of his teeth. “Yuan-er knows so many big words for a little princling of such an important business. Did you learn them from listening to clients speak to your daddy?”

Shen Yuan’s eye twitches. “Ah,” he says. “You’re an asshole on top of being impolite, then.”

Luo Binghe’s fingers twitch towards the switchblade in his pocket. He wouldn’t be able to clean up a body before security loops back around to this wing of the house, and Luo Binghe has already left a mess from being interrupted in the middle of his heist. He hasn’t left any fingerprints, but he can’t be sure about hair -

Shen Yuan reaches up and flicks Luo Binghe’s forehead. Luo Binghe goes dead still. That’s it, then. He’s going to kill Shen Yuan, this rich little brat -

“Oi, you’re going to ruin your pretty face with a mean expression like that,” Shen Yuan complains. “Just get out of here if you aren’t going to listen nicely - I already called security before coming over here to tell you off myself.”

Luo Binghe pulls out the switchblade, snarling down at Shen Yuan. “Oh, Yuan-er, I think there’s something much better I could ruin.”

Shen Yuan shifts uncomfortably at the sight of the blade, some of his irritation replaced with the faintest glimmer of fear. Luo Binghe pushes closer, wanting to see more - wanting to see Shen Yuan’s delicate face contorted with the sort of despair that a little lordling like him would never have known before, wanting to see him cry -

There’s footsteps from down the hall. Shen Yuan had not been bluffing; he really had called someone, then. Luo Binghe cannot guarantee he’ll be able to kill Shen Yuan quickly enough that Shen Yuan is unable to give a description of his murderer to the help before he dies.

Hesitating gets people caught. Luo Binghe does not get caught, so he brushes past Shen Yuan harshly without another moment’s pause, even though what he wants to do is something far more violent and time consuming.

Luo Binghe hasn’t failed a heist like this since he was a damn child, and this stupid little twink dares to just stand there and watch Luo Binghe run down the hallway to the nearest window instead of lay bleeding on the ground like he should be doing, Luo Binghe will come back to kill him -

“At least say thanks!” Shen Yuan calls out as Luo Binghe approaches the window. “Even if you can’t ask nicely to begin with, you should at least say thanks, ah!”

Luo Binghe ignores him. He’s busy pulling his jacket off to wrap around his arms, preparing to jump through the window’s glass in such a way that he can avoid getting cut and leaving his own blood at the scene of the crime.

“Aiya, what an asshole…” Shen Yuan is grumbling behind him. “You know, you may regret not bothering to pay me a bit more attention.”

Oh, Luo Binghe is paying attention. He’s very vividly imagining what Shen Yuan’s neck would feel between his fingers, right now, even as he backs up several steps to get a running start at the window.

The office had been on the second story, so Luo Binghe has to roll to mitigate the force of the fall. He stands quickly, does a perfunctory check of his pockets to ensure nothing fell when he hit the ground, and -

He’s missing the jewelry he nicked. He has the ruby earrings, but the others he’d stolen as he was leaving are gone. Luo Binghe searches the ground around where he’d fallen frantically; he has to move now, but he can’t leave those behind either. After all that this heist has brought, Luo Binghe can’t allow it to not even be profitable.

Above him, Shen Yuan clears his throat from the broken window. Luo Binghe whips his head up to look at him.

In one hand, Shen Yuan is holding the missing jewelry.

“I told you,” Shen Yuan says. “Jeez, as if I’m that useless.”

Luo Binghe stares up at him. No one has ever dared to steal back from Luo Binghe.

“...Aren’t you going to leave? Security really will be here soon.” Shen Yuan calls down at him. Then he pauses, and even in the darkness Luo Binghe can tell his ears have gone pink again. “...I let you keep the rubies. They, uh. Would probably go well. With you. And your eyes. And uh. Anyway, say thanks!”

“...Thanks?” Luo Binghe says, baffled and furious and still sort of itching to take his switchblade out and throw it pointy-side first at Shen Yuan’s pretty face.

“You’re welcome, asshole!” Shen Yuan calls back, clearly pleased.

Luo Binghe stares for a moment longer, then turns and runs. He will not get caught, even on nights that have gone as stupendously terrible as this one has. So long as he doesn’t get caught, there’s always next time.

So long as he doesn’t get caught, Luo Binghe can come back here, to the office of jewels he failed to get - to Shen Yuan.

Next time, Luo Binghe won’t fail.

#ok now onto the bigger bingge pov thing....#svsss #binggeyuan #bingyuan #fic drabble

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slitheringghost · 2 months ago

Text

Unweaving Canon Lily: Master Of Death

Part 2 of this meta is here.

In this meta I wanted to explore how the text portrays Lily as Death.

Dumbledore tells Harry, “You are the true master of death, because the true master does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying.”

Since Harry mirrors Lily in his sacrifice (“I’ve done what my mother did”), and since Lily is the reason Harry survived the Killing Curse and Voldemort was vanquished (IMO due to deliberate planning by Lily), what goes unsaid, but what readers are meant to weave together, is that Lily too is the Master of Death, and Death itself.

1.0 Lily as Death

If you pay close attention to the scene of the Potters’ deaths, you’ll see that it parallels the story of Death and The Three Brothers, with Lily as the main one playing Death, and I'll be weaving the two together below to illuminate this (from DH 21 and DH 17):

There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight And along a new and darker street he moved, and now his destination was in sight at last - In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. He could hear her screaming from the upper floor, trapped, but as long as she was sensible, she, at least, had nothing to fear... He climbed the steps, listening with faint amusement to her attempts to barricade herself in... - However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. He forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand - They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure. ...and there she stood, the child in her arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen instead... - “‘And Death spoke to them —’” “Sorry,” interjected Harry, “but Death spoke to them?” “Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!” “Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now.” “Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —” “This is my last warning —” “Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy... Not Harry! Not Harry! Please — I’ll do anything —” “Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!” ‘Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death’s gifts.

(The line about the river being too deep to wade through etc. could probably apply to some other lines too) The most notable connection is Voldemort repeatedly telling Lily to “stand aside” and the line “Death stood aside”.

The connection to the line “Death stood aside” is reiterated in the language surrounding Voldemort, Lily, and Harry as a trio, with the three of them described as “standing” - because the three of them are Death, and are (one variation of) the three brothers who conquered Death:

He forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand... and there she stood, the child in her arms. The child had not cried all this time: He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up into the intruder’s face with a kind of bright interest And now he stood at the broken window of Bathilda’s house, immersed in memories of his greatest loss (DH)

More on these lines in my meta about Lily and Harry as Voldemort’s Mirror Of Erised.

Additionally, Voldemort who also plays Death is described explicitly as a “hooded figure” - “He saw the small boy’s smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak”; but Lily too is a “hooded figure” in a more subtle way, because her face covered by her long hair evokes the hood of a cloak - "the mother entered [...] her long dark-red hair falling over her face." More on this in section 4.0.

2.0 Lily’s arms are Death’s arms

Lily's arms are repeatedly emphasized, especially in the scene of her death where they open towards Voldemort, because they're Death's arms wrapping around both Harry and Voldemort - welcoming for Harry, crushing and choking and drowning for Voldemort.

But though gashes appeared in their sodden rags and their icy skin, they had no blood to spill: They walked on, unfeeling, their shrunken hands outstretched toward him, and as he backed away still farther, he felt arms enclose him from behind, thin, fleshless arms cold as death, and his feet left the ground as they lifted him and began to carry him, slowly and surely, back to the water, and he knew there would be no release, that he would be drowned (HBP 26) “Death’s got an Invisibility Cloak?” Harry interrupted again. “So he can sneak up on people,” said Ron. “Sometimes he gets bored of running at them, flapping his arms and shrieking" (DH 21) Thrashing, suffocating, he scrabbled at the strangling chain, his frozen fingers unable to loosen it, and now little lights were popping inside his head, and he was going to drown, there was nothing left, nothing he could do, and the arms that closed around his chest were surely Death’s… (DH 19) […] Harry understood at last that he was not supposed to survive. His job was to walk calmly into Death’s welcoming arms. (DH 34) - Harry saw Sirius move up the bench to make room for her. She took one look at him, seemed to recognize him from the train, folded her arms, and firmly turned her back on him. (DH 33) It was nighttime. Lily, who was wearing a dressing gown, stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. (DH 33) there was a statue of three people: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother’s arms. (DH 16) and there she stood, the child in her arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen instead… (DH 17) Flitwick’s spell hit the suit of armor behind which Snape had taken shelter: With a clatter it came to life. Snape struggled free of the crushing arms and sent it flying back toward his attackers: Harry and Luna had to dive sideways to avoid it as it smashed into the wall and shattered. When Harry looked up again, Snape was in full flight (DH 30)

The suit of armor Snape hides behind is implied as the one by the door where Harry first found the Mirror of Erised, thereby tying it to Lily, who is both Harry and Snape's Mirror of Erised (For more on this, read my meta When Lily Cast Her Life As A Shield”: Analysis of the Shield Charm).

3.0 Lily’s ties to the Deathly Hallows

Since Lily is portrayed as Death, the text gives Lily links to all three Hallows, and I'll go through them below.

3.1 The Elder Wand

The scene with Snape, Lily, and Petunia by the Cokeworth river and Lily picking up the fallen twig evokes the imagery of the river of Death and the Elder Wand:

“‘So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother .” (DH 21) He was now in a small thicket of trees. He could see a sunlit river glittering through their trunks. The shadows cast by the trees made a basin of cool green shade. Two children sat facing each other, cross-legged on the ground. [...] “...and the Ministry can punish you if you do magic outside school, you get letters.” “But I have done magic outside school!” “We’re all right. We haven’t got wands yet. They let you off when you’re a kid and you can’t help it. But once you’re eleven,” he nodded importantly, “and they start training you, then you’ve got to go careful.” There was a little silence. Lily had picked up a fallen twig and twirled it in the air, and Harry knew that she was imagining sparks trailing from it. Then she dropped the twig , leaned in toward the boy, and said, “It is real, isn’t it?" (DH 33) There was a crack: A branch over Petunia’s head had fallen. Lily screamed: The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears. (DH 33)

3.2 The Resurrection Stone

An important implication is that it's specifically Lily's soul that came out of the Resurrection Stone and created the versions of James, Sirius, and Remus, the way the Tom Riddle locket horcrux soul piece creates Riddle-Harry and Riddle-Hermione.

Several details point to this - Sirius and Remus look much younger, rather than how they looked when they died; presumably their shades match their appearances in 1981, because they match when Lily last saw them and how she remembers them; likewise, James is stated to look exactly how he did the day he died, because that’s how Lily remembers him.

Lily's shade’s eyes being emphasized is a huge clue that it was Lily’s soul, as eyes are windows to the soul; this idea is echoed in Tom Riddle's eyes in the locket:

Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and handsome as Tom Riddle’s eyes had been before he turned them scarlet and slit-pupiled. Ron raised the sword still higher, and as he did so, Riddle’s eyes gleamed scarlet. His [Ron’s] eyes were wide, and the Riddle-Harry and the Riddle-Hermione were reflected in them, their hair swirling like flames, their eyes shining red, their voices lifted in an evil duet. Ron looked toward him, and Harry thought he saw a trace of scarlet in his eyes. (DH 19) She pushed her long hair back as she drew close to him, and her green eyes, so like his, searched his face hungrily, as though she would never be able to look at him enough. (DH 34)

Lily’s stated as looking at Harry hungrily - because Lily’s soul has been separated from Harry.

Interestingly, Lily’s shade and Harry both speak to each other the least - Lily only says four words “You’ve been so brave”, and Harry likewise only tells her “Stay close to me”. This is because Lily's speaking through the others to Harry. The strongest evidence towards this is the echoing here:

“And what use would that be to anyone?” said Dumbledore coldly. “If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear.” [...] “You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily’s son.” (DH 33) “I didn’t want you to die,” Harry said. These words came without his volition. “Any of you. I’m sorry —” He addressed Lupin more than any of them, beseeching him. “— right after you’d had your son ... Remus, I’m sorry —” “I am sorry too,” said Lupin. “Sorry I will never know him... but he will know why I died and I hope he will understand. I was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life.” A chilly breeze that seemed to emanate from the heart of the forest lifted the hair at Harry’s brow. (DH 34)

Lily also died right after she’d had her son, and this is Lily telling Harry that she’s sorry that she’ll never know him, and he’ll never know her, but she hopes he understands why she sacrificed herself - to vanquish Voldemort and create a better world.

The breeze lifting Harry’s hair echoes Hermione doing the same thing earlier, who also echoes the gesture of Lily pushing her hair back to look at Harry - AKA that breeze is Lily’s hand brushing Harry’s hair, perhaps kissing his forehead (for more on how Hermione performs the part of Lily, read my meta Hermione As Teacher And Connections To Lily):

She picked up the book and then walked back past him into the tent, but as she did so, she brushed the top of his head lightly with her hand. He closed his eyes at her touch […] (DH 18) “Hermione!” She stirred, then sat up quickly, pushing her hair out of her face. “What’s wrong? Harry? Are you all right?” (DH 19)

Other connections include:

1. Harry’s dream with Nagini (Voldemort's symbolic mother) going through the Gaunt ring with the Resurrection Stone and then Lily's grave - in the same chapter the Silver Doe appears, and only a chapter after he visits Lily's grave and sees the memory of her murder, and

2. the Lily from the Resurrection Stone parallels Morfin while he's wearing the Gaunt ring with the Stone in it:

Harry’s dreams were confused and disturbing: Nagini wove in and out of them, first through a gigantic, cracked ring, then through a wreath of Christmas roses. (DH 19) Lily’s smile was widest of all. She pushed her long hair back as she drew close to him, and her green eyes, so like his, searched his face hungrily, as though she would never be able to look at him enough. (DH 34) Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face, the better to see Riddle, and Harry saw that he wore Marvolo’s black-stoned ring on his right hand. (HBP 17)

As fandom has pointed out, the real James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus never would’ve told Harry to die and so it’s a theory that it was Death purposely luring Harry - but if you accept that the Resurrection Stone’s shades were all Lily, and that Lily is Master of Death, it would make sense that they all tell Harry to sacrifice himself, because unlike Dumbledore who can only guess, Lily knows that Harry will come back to life, as it was her magic in the first place that caused it to happen (of course, in a way it was Death, because Lily is Death, etc).

3.3 The Invisibility Cloak

Despite the Cloak belonging to James, Lily is implied as the "true owner" as the Master of Death. For more on the Cloak’s link to Lily and how it represents the Aegis which is sometimes featured as a cloak, Lily passing the Cloak onto Harry as Zeus gives Athena the aegis, see the Shield Charm meta.

An important detail regarding both the 1981 flashback and the shades from the Resurrection Stone is that Voldemort, Harry, James, Remus, and Sirius's clothes are mentioned, but what Lily was wearing is never mentioned - because we're meant to make the connection that Lily is Death and Death wears an Invisibility Cloak:

“Nice costume, mister!” He saw the small boy’s smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak, saw the fear cloud his painted face […] Beneath the robe he fingered the handle of his wand (DH 17) he saw them quite clearly in their little sitting room, the tall black-haired man in his glasses, making puffs of colored smoke erupt from his wand for the amusement of the small black-haired boy in his blue pajamas. (DH 17) James was exactly the same height as Harry. He was wearing the clothes in which he had died, and his hair was untidy and ruffled, and his glasses were a little lopsided, like Mr. Weasley’s. Sirius was tall and handsome, and younger by far than Harry had seen him in life. He loped with an easy grace, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. Lupin was younger too, and much less shabby, and his hair was thicker and darker. He looked happy to be back in this familiar place, scene of so many adolescent wanderings. (DH 34)

Note that mentions of Remus's "shabbiness" throughout the series are often references to his clothes ("The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard’s robes that had been darned in several places"), so his clothes are referenced, if obliquely.

The text also emphasizes that Voldemort can "see James and Harry clearly", as well as see the child’s face clearly, with the unsaid implication being that he can't see Lily clearly - because her face is covered by her hair that resembles a cloak, perhaps because she's wearing Death's Invisibility Cloak around her shoulders (in a metaphorical sense) or has Disillusioned herself and therefore only part of her body is visible.

Additionally, one way to read the Three Brothers story is that Lily is the third brother who met Death as an old friend - and Harry is the third brother’s son, who she passes down her Cloak to; and when the text tells us that Harry is descended from the Ignotus Peverell, the hidden meaning behind this is that he's descended from Lily.

4.0 Additional details

“Death’s got an Invisibility Cloak?” Harry interrupted again. “So he can sneak up on people,” said Ron. “Sometimes he gets bored of running at them, flapping his arms and shrieking" (DH 21)

Death “running at” people is echoed in Voldemort’s words about Lily, and “flapping his arms and shrieking" is evoked by Lily’s arms opening wide and her screams:

“Dumbledore’s favorite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter — and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you dying now when I strike?” (DH 36) He could hear her screaming from the upper floor, trapped, but as long as she was sensible, she, at least, had nothing to fear (DH 17) At the sight of him, she dropped her son into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide (DH 17)

As for Death sneaking up on people. Lily and Voldemort mirror each other here - as Voldemort is sneaking up on the Potters, so Lily is sneaking up on him (from DH 17).

And he made less noise than the dead leaves slithering along the pavement as he drew level with the dark hedge, and stared over it A door opened and the mother entered, saying words he could not hear The gate creaked a little as he pushed it open, but James Potter did not hear.

The wording also echoes Lily’s shade in Priori Incantatem:

She walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and she spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear… (GoF)

More on this in future metas.

The part with the small child going up to Voldemort and running away is echoed by Voldemort and Lily, with Lily taking Voldemort’s role and Voldemort playing the child:

“Nice costume, mister!” He saw the small boy’s smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak, saw the fear cloud his painted face: Then the child turned and ran away... (DH 17)

Remember, Voldemort turns into a child after he’s vanquished, as we see in GoF, and Harry compares him to a child in DH ("Harry […] thought absurdly of a child counting in a game of hide-and-seek", "His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded.")

As mentioned before, Lily’s hair covering her face is meant to evoke the hood of a cloak and echo Voldemort's face being covered by his cloak, and it’s heavily implied that Voldemort never sees Lily's face or her eyes beneath the hair (remember the Lily from the Resurrection Stone pushes her hair back to see Harry, drawing a contrast to the Lily in the 1981 memory that Voldemort sees).

This is Voldemort first smiling with amusement like that child:

He could hear her screaming from the upper floor, trapped, but as long as she was sensible, she, at least, had nothing to fear… He climbed the steps, listening with faint amusement to her attempts to barricade herself in (DH 17)

When Voldemort murders Harry, he finally sees beneath the hood of Lily’s Cloak (AKA sees Lily's eyes) through Harry, because he’s looking into Harry’s eyes, which are exactly like Lily's, as he casts the Killing Curse on him (Lily and Harry’s eyes also being the color of the Killing Curse):

He pointed the wand very carefully into the boy’s face: He wanted to see it happen, the destruction of this one, inexplicable danger. The child began to cry: It had seen that he was not James. He did not like it crying, he had never been able to stomach the small ones whining in the orphanage — “Avada Kedavra!” (DH 17)

And now Voldemort’s amusement is replaced by fear, and he runs away, exactly like that child:

And then he broke: He was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the child was trapped and screaming, but far away... far away... (DH 17)

This is what Remus tells Harry about dementors:

“If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself... soulless and evil.” (PoA 10)

Similarly to that quote, Voldemort turned Lily into someone like himself - turned her into Death.

The description of the street getting darker in the 1981 memory echoes the description the dementor's darkness, indicating that Voldemort is walking closer to Death:

And along a new and darker street he moved, and now his destination was in sight at last, the Fidelius Charm broken (DH 17) They turned right down the narrow alleyway where Harry had first seen Sirius and which formed a shortcut between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. It was empty and much darker than the streets it linked because there were no streetlamps. (OoTP 1) Something had happened to the night. The star-strewn indigo sky was suddenly pitch-black and lightless — the stars, the moon, the misty streetlamps at either end of the alley had vanished [...] They were surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness, as though some giant hand had dropped a thick, icy mantle over the entire alleyway, blinding them. (OoTP 1)

Additionally, we never get an explanation to why Harry and Voldemort see this full memory - it’s the same memory Harry relives with the dementors, however it’s much stronger. Dementors don’t show visual memories, only emotions and voices - and the only thing stronger than dementors is Death itself, so presumably it’s actual Death that made them both view the memory.

Dementors are implied as created by Death and are “Death’s servants”. Therefore the effect of the dementors on Harry (making him relive the moment of Lily’s death and vanquishment of Voldemort, which is the same memory Voldemort and Harry both relive when they get near the site of murder) may be related to Lily’s role as Death.

5.0 Veil of Death

Lily’s role as Death might also be the reason for Harry’s attraction to the Veil of Death, with the implication that it was Lily whispering to Harry being the Veil, as Lily in the Mirror of Erised and the Veil are similarly described:

He had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. Gripping his wand very tightly, he edged around the dais, but there was nobody there. All that could be seen was the other side of the tattered black veil. (OoTP) There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder — but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror’s trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not? He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he’d touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air — she and the others existed only in the mirror. (PS) - He took several paces back from the dais and wrenched his eyes from the veil. (OoTP) He tore his eyes away from his mother’s face, whispered, “I’ll come back,” and hurried from the room. (PS)

This implication is also weaved in via it being specifically Luna’s mother who is emphasized regarding the Veil, as well as Lily’s letter in DH described as “a friendly little wave from behind a veil”.

Lily's long hair covering her face in her death scene also evokes the Veil, and Lily enters the memory through a door - which echoes both the Mirror of Erised and the Veil described as an "ancient doorway".

6.0 Draught of Living Death

JKR describes characters’ clothes often, and I expanded on Lily's tie to the Invisibility Cloak, but notably the only time Lily’s clothes are explicitly mentioned in the series is when she’s wearing a dressing gown outside of Gryffindor tower at night time, about to go to sleep. This is partially an allusion to Lily being in an “enchanted sleep”, like the state of the Draught of Living Death, which includes asphodel as an ingredient, a type of lily - again tying Lily to Death. When Harry needs her, her spirit is awoken from her death-like slumber and she comes to save him.

The Draught of Living Death’s connection to Lily is further shown in HBP, where it’s the potion that wins Harry Felix Felicis, or Liquid Luck - and other than the alliteration with Liquid Luck and Lily, “luck” is constantly used to describe Lily saving Harry from the Killing Curse:

“But Harry — what if You-Know-Who’s with him?” “Well — I was lucky once, wasn’t I?” said Harry, pointing at his scar. “I might get lucky again.” (PS)

(Harry does "get lucky" again - Lily's blood magic saves him from Quirrelmort right after this.)

So. Your mother died to save you. Yes, that’s a powerful counter-charm. […] But after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. (CoS) “Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance.” (GoF)

But of course, it wasn’t luck, it was Lily. (The Draught of Living Death’s modification also includes the number 7, the magically significant number of horcruxes, and the amount of times Lily says “Not Harry” in her final words).

This ultimately threads to the scene where Harry, under the influence of Felix Felicis, uses the graphic details of Lily’s death - and Lily’s eyes - to manipulate Slughorn into getting the real horcrux memory. More on this link in future metas.

7.0 Conclusion

To summarize, Lily is portrayed as Death itself and is linked to everything surrounding Death - to the three Deathly Hallows, Death’s arms, dementors, the Veil of Death, the Draught of Living Death.

She’s the one whose magic conquered Death and caused both Voldemort and Harry’s death and resurrections, the one who keeps reaching out from beyond death to save Harry again and again - the true Master of Death.

Thank you to @artemisia-black for helping me with this meta, and credit to slashmarks fics for some of these realizations.

Part 2 of this meta is here.

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kairiscorner · 1 year ago

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(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

imagine being forced to marry miggy because it's your canon event and like you both are now

bound by fake vows — miguel o'hara x reader

summary: do you take him to be your lawfully wedded husband? well, your real choice doesn't matter. choices aren't given to people, they're predetermined by the multiverse. you and miguel were resigned to married life after he discovered it was a canon event for the two of you to be married for... the multiverse only knows how long. not wanting to ruin innocent lives and destroy a whole universe, you accepted your fate and got married to him, but it didn't mean you had to pretend you were happy about it, about being with him. word count: 1,477

"do you take miguel o'hara to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the wedding officiant's voice rang in your head, the bright lights from the windows as the sunlight poured into the room as the witnesses to your marriage to this man looked on, not expecting you to say no because... because there was no way to say no. to them, miguel looked like he was extremely eager to marry you out of love, out of affection for you, like how any ordinary person would want to marry someone dear to them for. but he was only eager to marry you because the multiverse dictated it, you were to be his spouse, you were to make him your husband, and you'd be stuck with him until the multiverse decides it's had its share of fun from your suffering already.

this doesn't feel real. you must be dreaming, right?

it was like you drifted off to sleep and never woke up, like you were living out a dream while being fully conscious, fully awake and living. you were in your new home, and it didn't feel real, you were in a world that you recognized, but at the same time, would never recognize as one you belonged in. you felt like you were in a world that was completely foreign to you, a home that shouldn't be yours but just is now; the sheets and mattress underneath you didn't feel familiar, it felt soft yet rigid all at the same time. it was definitely not your bed, yet you didn't freak out, you knew exactly whose bed this was.

you thought you knew where you were, but you had the feeling your mind was purposefully repressing your recollection of what this place was to you from coming back up and surfacing to the front of your mind, to prevent you from reminding yourself who you were now. you sighed as you threw yourself back onto the bed, feeling the other side of the bed was still warm and thoroughly wrinkled up from tossing and turning the previous night. that warmth, you could tell, wasn't yours. that warmth belonged to the man who now made your life his, but certainly had no intention of making his life yours.

you tried to close your eyes to sleep, to shake off this nightmare of imprisonment, of you agreeing to lose the freedom you deserved and looked forward to your whole life. you gave up your freedom in hopes of saving your dimension from it collapsing in on itself, and you tried not to hate him for keeping you shackled with him for the rest of your days, when all you wanted to do was live your life and see where fate would take you. you had a whole life ahead of yourself, a whole future you wanted to build by yourself; you had to fight your way out of everything that ever hindered you from living out your life the way you wanted it to go, but of course, miguel had to ramble to you that you had to let go of it all to make sure nobody else gets hurt.

why was he telling you all this, why did it have to be you? could the multiverse not have picked anyone else, does the multiverse expect you two to agree and get married so nobody else has to die senselessly from your refusal? what happened to having a choice?

of course. the multiverse hated seeing you happy.

"if it makes you feel any better, i'll take care of everything for you from now on." he muttered to you as he escorted you in his car after the 'ceremony', and though you would've appreciated this small sliver of concern from him, you scorned it due to how dismissive your new husband seemed. he didn't even look at you a single moment in that who process of tying the knot, the knot that kept tied up and bound to him. you didn't feel the least bit embarrassed or guilty for barely giving an audible "i do," to the wedding officiator when you were asked if you'd take miguel as your husband.

all that ran in your mind was: why?

why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why?

why me? why him?

you promised yourself you wouldn't cry, you wouldn't choke on any tears, you wouldn't shed any tears as you let go of your autonomy that you fought hard for when you ran away from home, got yourself through college all by yourself, and scrounged enough money for yourself to leave your old life behind and swear never to let anyone, anyone, order you around and dictate how your life would be lived ever again.

but here you were, a new shiny ring on your right hand, one that matched the one on his left--the one he didn't care to wear after the ceremony and placed in his breast pocket because he complained it was 'too small'.

'he dares complain it's too small when he bought these both himself. what a clown.' you thought to yourself as you scowled at him, feeling a hot rumble of upcoming tears well up in your eyes, and a feeling of cold helplessness envelope around you; these conflicting emotions you were experiencing right now were enough to make you go insane. yes, you agreed to marry him, but why lie to yourself and say you were happy to marry him, that you loved him like no other man who entered your life and wanted to spend the rest of your days with him?

why marry the man who stole your freedom from you?

a silence fell upon you two as the tears came falling down upon your new dress, which wasn't at all anything like the dresses your friends donned on their happiest days. you dreamed of your happiest day being probably 5 or 10 years into the future, and yes, you weren't getting any younger, but what kind of life was this? was this even worth living, being reduced to the spouse of a man you merely consider as a colleague at best, a stranger at worst?

he looked over at you from the corner of his eye, his stoic expression unchanging as he darted his eyes from you to the road ahead of him. "...i didn't want this, either." he murmured as you began to sniffle. he didn't offer you any words or touch of comfort, he didn't feel qualified to give you any of that. who was he to you if not a captor, right? he roped you into this, and now, you were both paying the price. "but you let it dictate what would become of us." you whispered with a shiver in your voice as you sobbed.

miguel didn't quiver, he didn't evidently show you he felt guilty for his decision, for your decision to agree with him. he didn't speak to you for the duration of the car ride until he brought you to his home, where you will spend the rest of your life with... until the multiverse says otherwise.

you two were to share a room, unfortunately. though he promises you that he has zero intentions of touching you, he'd sleep on the couch if you wanted, but you couldn't bear to hear it. you headed up to the new room you were sleep in for the remainder of your life and slammed the door on him, with miguel sighing as he clicks his tongue, asking lyla to chill his beer for him as he sat back on the couch and leaned his head back before the AI alerted him his beer was now cold.

as miguel went to get his beer, he stared at his reflection from the glass. who was this sullen, melancholic man staring back at himself? a genius geneticist? an unknowing murderer of a whole universe he never belonged to? a revered and feared leader of a supreme society of spider folk? an overworked man who finds himself sleeping at his desk and waking up at the crack of dawn to back pains and a backlog of work? a husband?

whatever, it didn't matter, not anymore. as he opened his beer and took three gulps of it, he sighed as he looked up at the door of the room that used to be just his. he really hates what he has to do sometimes, but he's the only one who can do it. he knows you care, you don't want innocent lives and a whole universe to be destroyed because of you.

miguel just hates how you had to be dragged in to all of this, all of this chaos he never wanted anyone else to suffer with him.

a/n: might make a part 2 or smth, if tumblr makes this flop, part 2 is out the fucking window 😡

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0 @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara angst #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv angst #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader

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avatar-saiki · 1 year ago

Text

Eye of the Tiger

Mammon/AFAB reader (you/your pronouns) 5.7k words

CW: NSFW, mating kink, overstimulation, squirting

Summary: Mammon borrows a headband from Levi as part of a costume to party with you up in the human realm, but things go awry when the headband is revealed to curse the user to be a kemonomimi for 12 hours.

Why did his luck always turn to shit when he was close to getting something great? It was supposed to be a fun night, just him and his human in the human world… partying it up all night long only to have them all to himself once the partying was done.

But instead…

“Check again,” he muttered under his breath, D.D.D. held close to his cheek while he paced. “There’s gotta be a way to fix me.”

“Dude.” Levi’s voice crackled through the speaker; inter-dimensional reception was always a bit spotty. “You asked me to look up how to dispel a curse. If you want me to figure out how to fix you that’s a whole other—"

“Shaddup you know what I meant!”

“I don’t think I like that attitude much. Maybe you should figure it out yourself.”

He tsked, catching a glimpse of himself reflected in the window. Still lookin’ sharp as always, but the little flutter atop his head was definitely not appreciated.

“You’re the one lendin’ me defective goods,” he snapped, “I thought otakus were supposed to take pride in gettin’ the good shit.”

Levi’s gasp crackled while he scowled at himself in the window.

“Oh excuse me? You’re lucky I even let you take anything when I caught you digging around my closet! Just for that I’m adding ten percent on top the finder’s fee for getting you out of this mess.”

“What?!” He glared at the screen. “Who’s the greedy one here? You or me?”

“Oh piss off.” Clattering computer keys accentuating his brother’s sass. “If I didn’t charge you for my assistance, I’d never get even a fraction of what you owe me back.”

“Ow, that hurts,” he said with a dramatic sigh, leaning against the window. “You’re my little brother, aren’t you supposed to wanna help me?”

Silence.

He checked the screen again to make sure the call didn’t drop, but the timer continued to tick away.

“… Levi?”

Nothing.

He clenched the D.D.D. tighter.

“Levi, if you hung up I swear I’m gonna—”

“ROFL did you really think that’d work? Your charms suck.”

“O-Oi!” He growled, “This ain’t funny! Quit actin' like me and tell me how to get them off already!” “Oh don’t think I’m trying to flatter you, I’m dead serious.”

A notification chirped in his ear and he swiped to check it.

“Authorize the transfer and I’ll tell you what I found.”

“6… 16,000 Grimm?! Are you crazy?!”

Levi’s laughter crackled again. “Well it’s either that or you’re on your own.”

He grit his teeth. “You tryin’ to extort me? You’re my little brother!”

“LOL as if you wouldn’t do the same if the roles were reversed.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but shut it instead.

“See? You can’t even lie and say you wouldn’t.”

“I never—”

The faint squeak of a turning faucet caught his attention, one of the ears atop his head tilting instinctively.

Dammit.

“So I take it you’re not interested then? If so I’ll be logging off. I have other things to take care of and you’re really eating into my grinding time to level up my latest gacha babes.”

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

16,000 Grimm…

He didn’t even know what to think of what Levi just said.

He couldn’t look.

Just…

He squeezed his eyes nearly shut and held the D.D.D. as far away from him as possible, holding his breath to type in the pin code and hit confirm. After a few seconds the confirmation chimed crystal clear and he felt himself die just a bit inside.

“Oh wow! You actually paid. LOL you must be desperate.” Ugh, he was not in the mood for this anymore. “Just tell me how to break the damn curse already!”

“Simple. You can’t.”

“What?! What do you mean I—” The faucet squeaked again and the gentle rain of the shower faded.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

He turned to face the window again, tucking the D.D.D. close and lowering his voice in a harsh whisper.

“Listen, Levi. You better not be tellin’ me you just made me pay for nothin’ or so help me—“

“Oh come off it, you owe me way more than 16K. You should be thanking me for only taking that much!”

“You didn’t even tell me how to fix it!”

Levi laughed. “Because you can’t, there’s nothing to fix!”

“Nothing to- Levi I have a fucking tail!”

“So? So do I. Sometimes.”

“Levi!”

Another laugh. “Look, relax. It’s a feature for cosplay. The headband’ll reappear and you’ll be able to take it off when the curse is done.” “R… Really?” He hated how relieved he sounded, but if it was just a feature… “Oh,” he sighed, “Okay, I can work with that. How long does it last?”

“Um… let me check…”

Mammon leaned forward again, inspecting his reflection while Levi’s keyboard clacked away, and reached up to pinch one of the ears to give it a tug, wincing.

Functional and attached all right. These stupid things were as real as his own two ears.

“Oh you’re in luck! The effect only last twelve hours.” “Oh that’s not so- twelve hours?!”

“Mhm~ what’d you pick again? A tiger? Apparently some lesser demons can get a little too into character when they wear these… better be careful to not lose control and eat our human now.”

He scoffed, “Like some stupid little curse is gonna make me—“

“I’ll tell Lucifer just in case. It might be smart to come home until the curse wears off.”

Wait! No—

“Levi don’t you dare—“

Click.

“Well that phone call sounded intense.”

He whirled around, startled to see them— his human— standing just outside the bathroom door, dressed in nothing but a white hotel robe.

“Everything okay?” You asked, tilting your head a bit to finish towel drying your hair.

“H-How much did you hear?”

“Mm… something about a curse. I know you were talking to Levi…” You turned back and tossed the towel onto the bathroom counter. “Was it about the ears?”

He reached up to cover his head, smacking himself with his D.D.D. in the process.

Why’d you have to smile like that.

He averted his gaze, sulking. “That damn otaku gave me some defective costume. He said I’ll be stuck like this for the rest of the night.”

“Aw… that’s too bad,” you said with a grin. “The whole night?”

“Y…Yeah…” He muttered and looked away. If the headband didn’t reappear again by morning, Levi better make damn sure he wasn’t home.

Who was he kidding though?

He wouldn’t do anything.

Well.

Actually he could probably do something.

Maybe figure out whatever the latest stupid collectible he was eyeing and snap up the last one before it—

“Could I…”

Your gentle voice nearly startled him out of his skin and he yelped. “W-When’d you get so close?”

You blinked, looking up at him in confusion. “Mammon, you have two sets of ears now. How did you not hear me coming?”

“I-I wasn’t paying attention!” He protested and you laughed, oh how you laughed. Was your laugh always so… exhilarating? His tail swished excitedly. It made his heart feel all light and funny.

“You’re so cute, Mamms,” you murmured, eyes sparkling with affection. “Can I pet you?”

He was already bowing his head, “Sure, anything you—“

Wait a minute.

He stood up straighter. “Wait- no! I ain’t some house cat!”

You giggled and reached up, wiggling your fingers, “Aw c’mon, please? You’ve let me before why can’t I now?”

He caught your wrists, about to tell you no again, but… the warmth of your skin…

Lesser demons can get a little… too into character.

But that didn’t mean him, right? He wasn’t some lesser demon, he was the Great Mammon, Avatar of Greed. One of the seven rulers of the Devildom. Surely he could resist some stupid little curse like this; he’d survived worse more times than he could count.

Even if…

“…Mammon?” You tilted your head, wrists relaxing in his grip. Always so trusting… so comfortable in his presence…

And your soul looked…

So…

“Mammon? Are you okay?”

He let go and stepped back, covering his mouth.

Better be careful to not lose control and eat our human now.

He inhaled deeply, your scent so light and intoxicating when he breathed in. Had it always been so… alluring? When had it become so… tempting? It was almost like the first time he saw your soul… that sparkle that drew him in like the brightest of gems. He’d never… thought he’d have trouble resisting your pull, but right now…

“Mammon?”

A gentle touch on his arm sparked a reaction, and he’d only realized what happened by the sound of your startled gasp, only to find you beneath him on the bed, robe askew and eyes gazing up at him in surprise.

“I-I—” He sat up on his knees with his hands up. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

Surprise became temptation captured in your smile, eyes sparkling with desire. “Isn’t that part of why we’re here?” You shifted on the bed, letting the robe open further to expose more of your chest, one of your legs lifting to caress his inner thigh. “It is just us here~”

Heat rushed to his face. “I-I want too, but…” He glanced away again, swallowing thickly. “I’m not sure if I… the curse might make me…” He couldn’t even say it, his tail curling around his legs while his ears tucked in his hair.

This sucked.

He was gonna borrow money from Levi twice as hard now to make up for this! After he’d worked his ass off for a month to get Lucifer to approve this private trip up and save up enough to pay for it all, now he had to spend the night as some stupid cat?!

You sat up, question soft. “Is it the curse?”

He glanced at you, then looked away again without a word, only a nod.

“Do you feel sick?”

“…No.”

“Oh, well that’s good.” Your sincerity made his heart flutter, but when he turned to look at you again it clenched.

You’d scooted further back up the bed, robe falling off your shoulder while you stretched to grab the remote.

“Why don’t we watch a movie instead?”

Your offer was so nonchalant and calm, it snapped him back to reality if only a little more. “Y-Yeah, sure…” he said, starting to crawl into bed, but you held up a hand to stop him with a laugh.

“Mammon, you’ve still got your shoes on. Why not get comfy first?”

“Oh, right…” He turned his back to you and sat down on the edge, face heating further.

This was going to be a long night.

“Did you want to shower before bed?” you asked while he leaned down to take off his shoes.

“Nah,” he sat up again and tossed his gloves on the floor, then shrugged off his vest. “I’ll just shower in the morning. I don’t wanna…” he trailed off, and you tugged his tail.

“Don’t wanna get your fur wet?”

“Hey!” He turned to retaliate, but fuck why did you have to look so tasty? He looked away again, stripping down to his boxers while your giggles tickled at his back.

Whatever.

He could do this. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d been tempted by you before.

He climbed into bed and leaned back into the pile of pillows next to you, the plushness helping him relax. Yeah… Yeah just another comfy movie night, no biggie. Just him and you, no one else to barge in or try and get in the way. He could still salvage some of—

“Wh-What’re you doing?” He asked, tensing when you crawled over his legs and sat yourself between them, then scooted back and laid against his chest.

“Mm…” You nestled closer, tilting your head back to look up at him. “I thought this would be more comfy. Is this okay?”

Heat rushed to his face and much much lower.

“S-Sure—” he breathed, clenching his fists at his sides. “But ah… you should know the curse might make me…”

You shifted a bit, stealing a shaky breath from his lips.

“Don’t do that.”

“Why? Did I hurt you?”

“No, but you might make me wanna—” He bit his lip and tilted his head back, groaning under his breath when you snuggled closer.

“Mm… you’re always so cozy, Mammon.” You cooed, reaching out to rest your hands on his thighs, tracing your fingertips in light, nonsensical trails. “So… warm~”

“Y-Yeah….” He swallowed, feeling… trapped. His tail skittered against the bed, thumping in an effort to exercise his need.

“Does the curse make you want to hurt me?” you asked, touches gliding higher along his outer thighs.

“No…”

He could hear the smile in your voice, smell the scent of your skin usually so faint but now it clouded all other sense.

“You wanna eat me?”

His fists clutched the sheets.

“No.”

“Mm…” You shifted a bit, purposely backing your ass up against his groin. “You sure?”

He swallowed again.

“No…”

You laughed and leaned back, ceasing your touches. “Damn… that’s too bad.”

“Y…yeah…” he breathed out, stealing a glance down at you. Even without the glow of the TV screen he could make out your figure perfectly, settled comfortably between his thighs. Your eyes were bright, nothing but happiness sparkling in your soul.

Ugh.

You shifted again, just a little, making yourself comfortable with your head resting on his chest. He wasn’t familiar with any of the shows you were flipping through, but he was trying to pay attention to what flickered on screen. It wasn’t fair. Your body was so… warm… so… soft… he just wanted…

“Mammon?”

He froze, realizing he’d been nuzzling just above your ear, and breathed out a low laugh. “Y-Yeah?”

“Are you… hungry?”

“What? For like… room service? You wanna order something?”

You laughed softly and placed your hands on his thighs. “Maybe in a bit… I don’t want someone… interrupting us.”

He swallowed, tensing when your palms drifted higher. “I-Interruptin’ what?”

You tilted your head back with a small pout. “You know I can feel it, right?”

Heat rushed to his face and he looked away, your laugh only making him feel even hotter.

“Why’re you acting so shy? It’s just me~”

He tucked his ears back and clutched at the sheets. “Be… Because I want you…”

“You have me~”

“Y-Yeah but—”

You reached over to touch his hand, “Mammon, relax. You’re going to rip the sheets.”

“I… sorry,” He loosened his grip and bowed his head, breathing in your scent. “I’m… not… I won’t… eat ya…”

“I know,” you hummed, lacing your fingers with his. “Even with fangs and claws, you’re as gentle as a kitten aren’t you?”

He growled, tail swishing on the bed when you laughed again.

“Do you think you’ll lose control?”

He winced, feeling the question sting in his chest.

“N…No…”

“You sure?” You teased, lifting up his hand and holding it between both of yours. With the curse his nails had sharpened slightly, not enough to be considered claws, but if he wasn’t careful he could easily hurt you. You slouched and lifted his hand up, tracing your thumb along the edges of one nail, feeling its razor-sharp point. “Does the curse make you… want to?”

He shook his head and tried to snatch his hand back, but you held it firm.

“Your nails are so sharp…” you chuckled, “too bad there’s no clippers in the bathroom, huh?”

“Y-Yeah…”

You leaned to the side and glanced back at him with a coy grin. “You wanna have a little fun?”

He sucked in a breath. “I- we can’t tonight, I--”

Your grin turned mischievous, and you placed his hand on your chest. “Just don’t squeeze too hard~”

His chest felt tight as flutters stirred below, the softness of your breast so—

“I-I can’t,” he whispered, wanting to let go but your pleased sigh kept him still. “I could hurt ya…”

“You could always do that,” you mused, closing your eyes and reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck.

“Yeah, but—” He squeezed, nails pricking your skin and stealing a soft moan from your lips. Don’t do that. “I-It’s different! Tonight I might actually do it!”

You chuckled and ran your fingers through his hair, feeling for his new ears and rubbing them with your thumbs. “I don’t know if you could… even if you wanted to.”

“I don’t want to!” He insisted, tail fluttering as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you closer. “That’s the problem!”

“Is it?” Your breathing changed and you rubbed your thighs together, moaning softly while his heart pounded at your back.

Don’t do that.

Your scent was changing… becoming… heavier…

He tipped his head down again, brushing his bottom lip against the curve of your ear.

“Please…”

You giggled softly, letting one arm fall to rest over his. “See? You still say please~ doesn’t sound like it’s a problem to me.”

He groaned quietly, nipping your ear while kneading your chest until he felt your nipple begin to firm under his palm. Careful. Had to be careful. If he squeezed too hard he could cut you…had to be—

“Ah~ Mammon,” you breathed out happily, subtly pushing his other hand lower as you spread your legs. “Touch me more~”

“D… don’t do that,” he whined, closing his eyes and nuzzling closer. Every whimper, every shift in his lap, every waft of your scent tickling his nose was making him—

Your hand touched his, guiding his fingers down lower to touch wet.

“Won’t you help me?” you whispered, using his fingers to stroke yourself. “Just a little?”

He swallowed thickly, body tensing and fingers splaying out. “I… can’t…”

“Please, Mammon?” you whined, reaching a finger down between his to touch yourself, letting him feel the strokes as you pushed further in. “It’s so much better when you do it.”

He growled, tail swishing again while he felt you fuck yourself between his fingers. No. He couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted it. No matter how good you felt against him. No matter how good you smelled. How good it’d feel. How soft and warm you felt pressed up against him… your little tremors rubbing your backside against his—

“Wh- Mamm—”

You squealed in surprise at the sudden flip, but he didn’t give you much time to adjust. He grabbed your hips and pulled them up flush against his pelvis while his chest held you down.

“Ya gotta stop…” he whispered, his face pressed into the pillows beside yours. “I… I can’t…” He rubbed himself against the soft, wanting more.

“Oh… Mammon…” you breathed, reaching between your legs and feeling for him, palming his balls. “Yes you can…”

Don’t do that.

He bit his lip, groaning under his breath while he rubbed himself against your ass. It wasn’t much… wasn’t enough. He needed more.

“I could hurt ya…”

“You won’t~” you whispered back, giving his balls a gentle squeeze and making him groan. “I know you won’t.”

“G-Give me an order,” he said, “Make me stay back. Sleep on the couch, I dunno.”

“Is that what you want?” Your thumb stroked his sack and he loathed the cloth that dulled the sensation.

No.

He clenched his fists, tail swishing side to side while he humped into your palm.

“Tell me what you want, Mammon,” you whispered and he almost laughed. If this had been any other moment, it would’ve been the easiest request you could ever give him. But right now?

You rolled your hips back, using your ass to stroke his cock and shattering what little resolve he still clung to.

“If you really don’t want to… I can order you… but you have to tell me it’s what you want,” you said softly, “because… I want…”

Another roll and he—

You squeaked when he pressed his pelvis flush, knocked you into the pillows.

“I want you,” he murmured huskily, brushing his lips across the back of your neck. “I need you.”

“You can have me whenever you want me,” you whispered, pressing back against him, your slick beginning to soak through his boxers. “I’m always ready for you~”

He cursed under his breath, feeling you blindly attempting to pull him out. “I want ya so bad…”

You withdrew your hand, tucking your arms under your chest and letting your hips sway side to side to tease him. “I want you too, Mammon~ won’t you please give it to me?”

“Fuck.” It took everything in him to lift himself up on his knees, and everything more not to pounce again once he caught sight of your cunt spread before him, glistening with arousal. “Why’re you so wet already?”

You laughed, swaying your hips again. “What can I say? I’m needy.”

Needy…

Okay.

He could work with that.

He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. If he could just take care of you, you’d be satisfied enough to fall asleep and then he could try and find some way to calm down. Yeah.

Yeah that made sense.

He tapped his nails together.

Except he couldn’t…

Well, he could…

“Okay, hold on,” he murmured, lowering himself down to the bed and ducking his head between your thighs. Your surprise made him smile, and he laid on his back, looping an arm around your leg. “C’mere.”

“Oh hell yeah,” you whispered, spreading your legs and lowering yourself down. “You’re such a good boy.”

He chuckled, lifting his head to kiss you the moment you were within reach and moaning as the scent overloaded his brain. More. His tongue glided up your slit, making your thighs clench around his head.

“Fuck,” you hissed, sitting up and rolling over his tongue. “Good boy.”

You’re damn right he was.

He let his eyes close, savoring the soft velvet feel on his tongue while he looped his arms around your legs, holding you steady. Soon your fingers found purchase in his hair, keeping him close. He moaned shamelessly when your ruts smothered him, making it hard to breathe… to think…

Only want…

“M-Mammon—” you stuttered, thighs tensing when his tongue circled over your entrance, taunting you with more. “Mammon, please—”

He let out a purr, resonating low in his chest, soothing his mate to let you know he’d heard. His tongue pushed inside and you let out a needy whimper, sinking your hips lower as if you could make him penetrate even deeper.

“Good boy,” you breathed, touching your clit and reaching up to squeeze your chest. “Don’t stop—”

He let his eyes open, gaze hazy and lustful. Your face was flush, fingers greedily massaging your clit while you gazed down at him, fucking yourself on his tongue.

“Don’t stop,” you whispered again, pinching your nipple and gasping under your breath. “Please… I’m close…”

He purred again and closed his eyes, tilting his chin up to lick up your slit and latch over your clit, suckling himself around you, fingers and all. You squealed and squeezed his head so hard it might’ve been deafening if it weren’t for the ears sitting atop his head.

“O-Oh, fuck, Mammon—” you keened, clutching his hair tight while your hips rut of their own accord. “Please-” you panted, “Please-please-ple—”

He moaned with you, feeling the twitch of your thighs tensing when a small wave of pleasure rocked through your core, satisfaction rising in his soul. That’s it… no one could make his mate feel this way~

“Oh… Mammon,” you breathed out, leaning forward to rest against the headboard. “That was— whoa!”

He tossed you aside as he sat up, licking his lips while you fumbled about. “You keep callin’ me a ‘good boy’,” he growled, stripping off his boxers and reaching for your legs before you could get too far away. “How many times do I gotta tell ya I ain’t a dog?”

Your eyes went straight to his cock, a soft gasp escaping your throat when he spread your legs. “Oh fuck…”

“Yeah,” he smirked, hooking your legs up around his hips while his tail swished smugly behind him. “Oh fuck.”

“M-Mammon, wait just a sec— you’re—”

He whisked you closer, pressing his cock into your heat with a low growl. “If you want me off, you’ll have to order me.”

You gasped again, reaching down to touch his lower abdomen. “N-No! I don’t— Just—fuck-!” Your last words came out in more of a moan, the thickness of his cock against your slit making you realize just what sort of predicament you were in.

“Ju…just go… slow…” you whispered, looking up at him with flushed cheeks. “Please?”

He tilted his head slightly, feigning consideration to tease you while he rolled his hips back, letting the head catch at your entrance.

“Go slow?” he repeated, sinking his hips down and watching as your lips parted in a silent cry. “But didn’t you say you were… needy?”

“O-Oh shit—” you whined, reaching for his wrists and clinging tight. “M-Mammon you’re— it’s too—”

Lust gripped his soul when your nails bit into his skin.

“You can take it,” he purred, leaning forward and pushing further in, watching your eyes roll back with a silent keen. “I know ya can.”

“M-Mammonnn…”

Your pathetic whines were always so precious; poor human struggling to take his cock~ He stopped himself, resting a hand on the bed and waiting for your breathing to steady before sinking further in, making your back arch and breath stilt yet again.

“You’re so tense… you gotta relax for me, treasure.”

“I’m trying,” you whined around a moan, shivers rolling through your body. “You’re so big.”

He laughed under his breath and eased his hips back, leaving just the tip inside. “Fine… I’ll let ya have a little break.”

Your grip tensed briefly, then relaxed off his arms, little indents left on his skin. “Good… good boy…” you whispered, and he chuckled again.

“You like praisin’ me, don’t ya?”

You breathed in deep, arms laying across your stomach as you gazed up at him with desire.

“Good boys… should be praised…”

His eyes lidded and he leaned forward on his hands, tail swishing side to side.

“You kept teasing me.”

Your hand reached up to clutch your breast, his hips sinking just a breath.

“Y…Yeah…”

“That ain’t nice you know,” he said, smiling more when your head tilted back. “You know what you do to me.”

“I know…” you breathed, gazing up at him with want. “… More…”

He pushed in further until your breathing hitched and your hands clung to him, tensing beneath him.

“You gotta relax, treasure~”

“I know,” you whined, hooking one of your legs around his hip. “Just… go slow…”

Still wanting more already?

“You’re greedy,” he murmured, pulling back only to rock back in, shallowly using his cock to stretch you while you whined beneath him.

“Needy,” you pouted, groaning when a soft clench squeezed around him. “Mmm-Mammon…”

“Needy,” he repeated, working you in gentle thrusts, your cunt so tight he could only fit himself halfway in. “Is that why you mess with me?”

You whined again and clung to his arm, lifting your hips to give him a better angle - or maybe it was more for yourself with the way you whimpered for him.

“It ain’t fair ya know,” he murmured, rocking faster when your walls became slick, tremors fluttering around his cock. “I didn’t wanna… risk losin’ control…”

“M-Mammon…” You breathed out, keening low as a soft ripple of pleasure radiated from within your core, making you even wetter.

He leaned forward, pushing himself in deeper and watching your eyes roll, nails biting his arms.

“I can’t even take my time to do all the things I wanna do to ya…” he whispered, grinning as you wordlessly tried to say his name. “Look at what ya do to me~”

“M-Mm-amm--”

He thrust in full, groaning under his breath when the shock made you tense around him again, your whines music to his ears while you squirmed.

“Too… too… big…”

“Well if you would’ve waited till the curse was over I could’ve taken my time,” he said, easing his hips back only to thrust in full again, making you whine so deliciously~

“Hhhhii—”

Again.

You moaned when he sank in, clinging to his arms desperately.

“I can’t even use my hands,” he said, digging his nails into the sheets while his balls slapped against your ass. “Y’know how much it drives me crazy waiting for you to be ready for me?”

Your eyes were hazy, gazing up at him with a lustful glow.

“Fuck… me…”

His heart soared at that… your face so…

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asked, starting to thrust himself in deeper, steady strokes. Your fingers pinched his arms again, legs moving up to wrap around his hips.

“Was I goin’ too slow for you?”

Your brows furrowed, breath held in your throat.

“You asked me to, y’know~”

“M-Mamm-nn~”

“You can pinch me all you want~ but I’m still gonna make you cum.”

“M-Mah-fuh-mnn—”

Your walls began to quiver again, deeper this time with his full length thrusting inside. Ugh, your cunt was getting so wet. He closed his eyes and focused on that feeling, where it was contracting, squeezing…

“M-Mamm—!”

His name left your lips in a sharp keen, body clinging to him as you clenched tight around him, smearing his balls with your cum while he thrust in deep to give you something to really squeeze.

“That’s it…” he purred low in his throat, reveling in just how much tighter you could be when you came. “That’s what I was lookin’ for~”

“I… I….” You breathed out, unable to think or say anything more.

He slowly drew his hips back, reveling in the way you whimpered and squirmed again.

“N-No- don’t… mhhh…”

“What? Don’t move?” He thrust in, shivering as your cunt tensed in response. “After I warmed you up so nice?”

Your eyes drifted up to his, a hand rising up to touch your lips.

“Mam… Mammon…”

“You wanted me to fuck you, didn’t ya?” he purred, leaning more of his weight on his hands. “Show ya just how much I want ya?”

“Please…” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“That’s my treasure,” he whispered back, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “You’re my treasure.”

You groaned, hands flying to his arms again to cling when he started to move, already so tense and stimulated. He hadn’t even made you cum as hard as he wanted yet, poor thing~ he needed more from you.

“M-Mammon…” you stuttered out a low whine, only goading him on with your desperate keens. It didn’t take long for your walls to begin closing in again, tremors rippling down his length with every stroke.

And it was so wet.

“M-Mammon—”

“There ya go,” he whispered, thrusting faster. “You’re doin’ so good.”

“Mammon, please—”

He groaned under his breath, fucking into the wet heat with his own desire. Your whimpers, your pleas, your desperate graspings only added fuel to his fire.

“M-Mamm- I can’t,” you cried, “I’m gonna—”

He growled, clutching the sheets tight.

“M-Mammonn-!!”

You cried out in a broken sob, cumming hard on his cock. A possessive sense of pride swelled in his soul as your cunt squirted and squeezed, clamping around him so tight.

“There ya go,” he moaned, dropping onto his elbows and letting his pelvis slap with deep thrusts, your whimpers music to his ears.

“Mam- I can’t—” you panted, clutching at him. “I cah--”

Your walls quaked, threatening to collapse again.

“There ya go,” he growled, chasing that feeling and letting the pressure rise. Just a little more…

“M-Mamm—” you keened a desperate breath, eyes rolling back.

He moaned, feeling so close but he needed just a little more.

“M-Mah—” you panted, hands weakly clinging to him as other wave rolled through, legs shaking as tears formed in the corners of your eyes.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the tight just what he needed to—

“Khck—” you keened, squeezing around him while he came hot inside, a thick throbbing roll emptying his load deep within your core.

Relief flooded his head, making thoughts light and dizzy. He moaned, nuzzling you lovingly while another pulse made your oversensitive walls twitch.

“That’s my treasure,” he murmured, a low purr resonating in his chest. Finally satisfied. “You did so good~”

Sweat clung to your brow, your chest heaving in deep breaths beneath him.

He chuckled, leaning in to nip at your ear. “You okay?”

“Hh… hold me…” you managed, arms loosely finding their way around his neck.

He smiled and slid his arms under your shoulders, nuzzling closer.

“Gladly~”

He laid with you until your heart no longer raced in your chest, and your breathing eventually slowed. Until your embrace became more, and you began to stroke his hair. He stayed with you nestled beneath him, blissed out and full of his scent, his cum.

He laid with you…

“Mm… Mammon?”

He lifted his head, gazing down at you with a slight tilt. “What is it?”

You smiled dazedly and cupped his cheek, drawing him in for a kiss.

“Love you~”

He felt himself start to blush, the curse’s effects still making him feel…

“Love you too,” he whispered, kissing you again. “But ah, careful with that. Don’t get me too excited.”

You laughed breathlessly. “Oh don’t tell me you could go again.”

He smirked, “I might~”

“Ugh, please no I’ll die.”

He laughed, nuzzling his nose to yours.

“No more tonight, promise.”

“Good,” you mumbled, hugging around his neck. “M’tired.”

“Wh… well you can’t sleep now, we gotta clean up.”

“Mm… in a minute…”

“But you’re… we’re all…”

You nuzzled into his neck, breath so soft and light.

“Later… ‘sides I… kinda like it…”

His face burned even hotter, and his tail swished side to side.

“Dammit…” he cursed, making you giggle. “Why you always gotta say what I wanna hear?”

“‘Cause I’m your treasure~” you teased, nuzzling yourself closer still. “Take care of me.”

He swallowed his skipping heart, suddenly finding it harder to resist wanting more.

“I promise,” he murmured, turning in to kiss your temple. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Does forever count?”

He chuckled fondly and closed his eyes, curling himself around you.

“Yeah, forever counts.”

#obey me smut #reader insert #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obeymeshallwedate #gender neutral reader #Started as something I wrote around Halloween then tried to finish sometime later then forgot about and decided to revive it #pretty much just a scenario to indulge in a mating kink with Mammon but the guy's got such self control it's hard to get him to lose it

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