not-ur-average-hydroflask99

Latest Posts by not-ur-average-hydroflask99

By the way, fanfiction isn't the place for reviews or criticism.

When you're a published author, it's like you're preparing a meal in a food competition. You expect a rating and to be told what worked and what didn't to improve your craft and embark on your career.

When you're a fanfiction author, it's like taking some of your free time to enjoy the process of baking cookies and then offering them to someone to be kind.

If you take a cookie from the plate, you don't spit it out and tell them it sucked.

Unless the writer asks for your opinion, you can keep it to yourself.

Adding this to clarify, and you don't have to agree with this by any means, I cannot force you to, but the reason Ao3 and Fanfiction isn't the space for criticism and ratings...is that it is a fan space created by fans for fans.

It isn't school.

It is a space where people with the same interests can congregate and enjoy the same fandom.

When you think about commenting on an fanfic authors fics, don't think if it as fishing around in your pocket to give them a compliment.

Compliments are nice. Most everyone likes compliments.

"I like your character development."

"You paint wonderful imagry."

Those are comments that are compliments. Speaking for myself as a fanfic writer they're nice, but they're not what my fan heart craves.

I want engagement with my readers.

The best comments I get aren't talking about my skill as a writer, but what just happened in the story because you and I (the reader) are already fans of the world created.

Comments like:

"NOOOOOOOO!"

"Did she actually just do that?"

"EXCUSE me?!?!"

None of these comments are compliments and none are critical. They are emotionally aligned with the story. They are engaged and with this engagement we create a little community in this tiny little space we get to call ours.

I cannot stop people from saying cruel things, but I can inform those people of the "dangers" so to speak when people treat fandom spaces like Ao3 as if it's Goodreads.

Writers, who write for themselves and offer it to you out of kindness, can decide that if people are just going to spit out their cookies they don't need to post about them anymore and that is how fandom spaces die.

If you don't like the flavor of cookie they made, or you're allergic to one of its ingredients...don't eat the cookie. Put it back for someone else to enjoy and then go find the flavor you do like.

HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO

⊹ 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 part two.

⊹ wc ; 17.3k / 36.1k

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

LINK TO PART TWO

⊹ a/n ; well. its here. i wont ramble too much but i hope you enjoy and if you dont...well don't tell me. thank you to ame for your endless patience. likes and reblogs mean the world. the title is inspired by the poem linked.

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

“Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love.” - andrew kane, how to be a dog.

⊹ PART ONE : A CHILD BORN IN WINTER MUST NOT LONG FOR SPRING.

There’s a dog living outside of Gojo’s apartment. It’s a collarless, lonely thing. Clever, too. 

Though, Gojo doesn’t know much about its life before it started hanging around the area, he gets glances on occasion. It’s not emaciated and it doesn’t look hungry, but it’s roughened up with matted fur and a healed tear in one ear. 

More importantly, it doesn’t bother anybody in the neighborhood. Despite its outward appearance and hostility when approached, its aggression won’t go farther than a warning bark or growl. Most of the adults living in the building know better than to try, but some of the kids living upstairs desperately attempt to befriend it. Of course they fail, and Gojo thinks that that poor thing is growing apathetic to the touches of sticky hands. 

The whole building is pretty fond of it, surprisingly. Gojo lives in a upend complex in a metropolitan part of Tokyo and the people here can be snobbish. So it comes as a shock that this dog wasn’t shooed away months ago. 

Everyones sort of agreed to take care of it. There’s a food and water bowl outside of the security office - and just last week a sign was implemented of Do’s and Don’ts for what food scraps can be left. There’s a donation box to get some proper shots and paperwork - since it looks like the building's doorman has agreed to take it in if everyone chips in for the expenses.

(Gojo suspects this has something to do with those very kids, devastated by the thought of it being gone.)

Warm welcomes from the residents aside, Gojo hasn’t seen it act friendly before. He wonders about that.  It seems hesitant to trust anyone and he’s sure there's a good reason. It’s just that it's clever. To be a stray in this area of Tokyo and be so calm is an impressive feat, so he thinks it probably has some grasp of his own situation. If it acted cuter, it could get a warm house and family too. Though the whole aloof and distant thing does the job just fine, Gojo can’t help but wonder what such a clever creature is doing, turning away from living lavishly. 

Much like everyone else, Gojo’s contributions have come in the form of food scraps and some donation money to work towards the 5,000 yen goal. On the occasion their paths cross, Gojo sits near it. Sometimes, they share a moment of silence and Gojo talks just to see if it’ll ignore him. It seems like it’s listening. It always makes a grunt of dismissal when Gojo turns to leave and he’s started to count that as a little victory. 

Gojo isn’t intrigued by anything as much as that dog. At least not lately. It’s damn near impossible to seriously pique his interest and yet that clever fellow is one of the few things he stops to ponder at. 

Today, Gojo is intrigued by the dog that lives on the street of his apartment and the strange woman who’s petting it like some sort of domesticated baby.

He’s very, very intrigued by that. 

The rain comes down in heavy sheets. It’s a Wednesday, and he has no classes to teach so he’s home and preparing to run errands. He’s going about his day as usual, basically. When Gojo isn’t swamped with a mission or the reformation of Jujutsu Society - he likes to play the part of the average man. 

The plan for today was to take his unused car out of the lot so he could get some dry-cleaning done, go buy a new pair of sunglasses because his old ones are scratched, and go do some shopping. He needs to buy groceries again ( an uncommon occurrence) so that one's on the list too. 

He’s dressed down. A black windbreaker is hanging over his shoulders, tight gray shirt and some comfortable jeans. He’s got on his errand shoes, a nice pair of sneakers and his keys are hanging from a loop in his belt. His hair is styled down and he’s got on his glasses instead of his typical mask.

He has a gameplan, a fully fleshed out expectation of how today will go, and it’s derailed by a woman he’s never seen before. He’s drawn to you so naturally it’s baffling. 

You’re crouched just in front of the security office. Dressed in a loose skirt and long sleeves, looking down by the local neighborhood stray. For the first few seconds, he just lingers on in utter awe. You’re carrying a comically cute umbrella, clear with flowers and a pink edge. He kind of thinks you look like a peony. 

He approaches slowly, quietly. 

When he finally gets close enough to really see, he can hardly believe his eyes. That old, menacing mutt is happily getting his chin scratched by you. 

“Oh, uhm. Hello?” 

The sound of your voice startles him out of his trance. Snapping back to reality, he glances down to where you are and realizes he’s towering over you. In an effort to be polite, he steps back and gives you his most disarming smile. 

“Hi. Sorry for the intrusion, I was just,” He glances at the dog who almost looks offended at the interruption “I noticed you were… petting this dog. Guess I was a little surprised.” 

“Surprised?” 

And your surprise surprises him even more. He blinks slowly. 

“Yeah. He’s not aggressive or anything but uh,” Gojo chuckles, concluding you must be a little new “Well, he’s not exactly friendly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone succeed in well…petting him.” 

You’re taken aback by this information. Yeah, definitely new. 

“Really?” You glance at Gojo before looking back down at it “I just gave him some treats and waited a bit. He’s such a sweetie. Sure you mean this dog?” 

Gojo gets a good laugh out of that. Partially at your cluelessness and partially at your disbelief. He nods, smiling a little. 

“I’m very sure, actually. He must really like you,” He says, hands in his pockets. He bends down to join you, but he’s still a little bigger than you at that height “I guess I can see why. You’re pretty friendly.” 

You peek over at him. You seem a little shy at the compliment. Gojo feels his interest pique a second time today alone. New record. 

“Oh, uh. Thank you. I teach kindergarteners so I sort of have to be.” 

He hums. Reaching his hand towards the dog, who sniffs and cuddles his palm (something it’s never done before) in order to win your favor more. It really is a clever little thing, just like he’d always suspected.

“I’m a teacher too. A highschool teacher, though. No need for me to be friendly, I guess.” 

You laugh at his joke, smile reaching your eyes as you hug your knees to look at him.

“You seem plenty friendly to me.” 

He pretends to think about it. 

“Maybe you have a gift for making people come out of their shell,” He says with sincerity, relishing in the fact he’s finally getting to pet the dog in any capacity “I think this little guy could probably attest to that.”

“And you have a knack for flattery.” You quip. 

The natural chemistry is noticeable enough for it to catch Gojo off-guard. He grins. 

“Hey. I’m not all bad. And what's flattery if I’m being honest right?” 

“Sounds like something a flirt would say,” You tease, airy. He laughs a little. 

“You seem like you’re having fun giving me a hard-time.” He pouts. You giggle. 

“A little,” 

“Jeez. How rude of you…” He waits, prompting your name. You smile. 

You give him your name. You say it soft and easy. He makes sure to return to the favor. 

“And yours?” 

“Gojo Satoru.” 

__

You live up to your first impression in the time that Gojo gets to know you as his neighbor. 

Friendly. The word he’s looking for is friendly. 

There’s other words though. Sometimes meek, typically cheery, oftentimes quiet. You’re quite unassuming, and possibly too gentle when compared to everyone else in the general area. You fit in fine, no worries there. And Gojo knows that for certain because he can’t stop himself from watching over you like a hawk. 

He doesn’t really understand it himself. Gojo gets along with everyone. He’s always been a people person who likes to talk and likes to get to know strangers. There’s nothing that special about your connection in that way. You live next to him, directly across the hall.  You often knock on his door to give him something that you’ve made too much of or ask to borrow some sugar 

And it’s not done with any romantic intent. Gojo is good at reading people. He’s never seen someone so blatantly  romantically uninterested in him. You’re not even conscious of him as a man, cemented to him  by the one time you came to the door dressed in paper-thin PJ’s. He hasn’t recovered from the shock. One of the many times in his life where he was grateful no one could see where he was looking. 

He’s had a few months since your first meeting to get an idea of your personality and what things about you he should keep in mind. You noticed that he’s often not in his house, so you’re relatively aware of your surroundings. You’re often up late because your lights are always on well into the evening. 

(He finds out later you’re usually making lesson plans or little gift bags or planning birthdays. You really love your job, something he can commend while simultaneously  feeling quite jealous about.) 

You favor the lovely spring colors like pink and purple because you have so much of it always on you. You dress brightly in general. And you smile, often, and stumble over yourself trying to be nice to the other tenants. The kids in the building adore you. The sheer amount of propositions you’ve received to be someone's full-time nanny could probably keep you employed for another two decades. 

And you always put your best into everything, no matter what. 

This is probably the aspect Gojo is most fascinated by. It’s not exactly a novel trait. He’s encountered something like it before. One of his most prized students is Maki Zenin. Her whole thing is kicking ass through sheer spite. 

But unlike his students or anyone else he knows - you don’t seem to be motivated by spite or anger or frustration. Even when you are angry or upset - you always force yourself into being more understanding. Into being nice, kind, and still giving it your best if you’ve been shorted somehow. He’s tempted to call you a try-hard. It draws on the line of people pleasing sometimes but it doesn’t matter either way. This is a quality in you Gojo likes all the same. 

He's always been drawn to people who are earnest. His company favors such things. He cherishes Yuuji for such a reason, and can say something similar for Nanami. It’s a refreshing perspective. He’s not a bitter person, but he’s not an earnest one either. So Gojo likes that you’re so properly, gently sincere. 

For the last few months he’s made a real effort to talk to you. So he’s not just the guy next door, but at least an acquaintance and at best a distant friend. On the mornings you both have classes to teach, he walks you to your car and if he wakes up before you - he’ll bring you a cup of coffee or a pastry he knows you enjoy.  

You’ll often do Gojo little favors and he’ll return them - joking to each other about being a good neighbor. An inside joke with each other that Gojo is growing increasingly fond of, all together with leftover cups of coffee and glances that linger too long. Some mornings, he takes out your trash when you’re feeling too tired and you’ll do him the favor of getting the stuff out of his clothes that he doesn’t want to dry-clean. 

It’s these little exchanges that make up the bulk of your interactions. 

He’s even been to your apartment (another reason he’s sure you’re not attracted to him). He went last week to help you cut out little autumn leaves to put on your classroom walls, and you rewarded him with some lemonade. 

He’s still thinking about it days later, how you sit on your legs and the way your cardigan hangs off your shoulder. When you’re focused, you leave your mouth open a bit and poke your tongue through your lips. He’s endeared by it. 

 By you in general.

It’s all boring and mundane, but that’s what makes it. It’s a luxury he rarely affords. Craves, really, which is why he’s starting to go straight home more often than not.

It’s nice that you’re always there. That you’re usually home and when you’re not - Gojo doesn’t have to guess too hard about where you are. It’s so constant. He basks in the feeling of constancy like an expensive silk. 

It’s little luxuries like that, he thinks, that make you so special to Gojo without much effort on your behalf. Being up at the top means he is always fascinated by the place closest to the ground. 

What’s heaven to a man born there?

__ 

In your fourth official month of residence, the neighborhood dog finally gets adopted. 

He’s not there for the big reveal. He hears it from you while he’s on a mission, through a text message and a photo. He acquired your number early on, but you’ve only started doing these text exchanges recently. Reason being Gojo’s had an unusual amount of cases that need his attention and you’ve been very aware of his absence.  

(The first time you texted Gojo after 3 days on the other side of the country, he was scarily happy. After all, most times when he leaves - people are expecting his return.  There’s an assurance that he will return alive, that he has to. It’s not often people worry.

It was another thing he learns about himself through you. Being fussed about is refreshing.) 

Currently, he’s all the way down in Nagasaki. He’s been investigating what the local government has described as an “infestation in the water,” leading to poison and all sorts of hallucination. It’s been causing all of the local hospitals to fill up and the news is advising people to distill their water if possible when at home. Make sure to buy bottled, and double check on your children. 

In other words, there’s an unidentified curse wreaking havoc in small towns and rural areas at an unusually fast rate and Gojo has been sent to figure out its origin. What’s really weird is the location. He’s in Nagasaki prefecture, specifically in Hasami - a town in the Higashisonogo district. He really didn’t have much time to do research on the area, save for a few quick google searches and probing questions to his student, the well traveled Yuta Okkutsu who is a hair more familiar with the region than he is. 

But there wasn’t much for him to find. Hasami is known for the porcelain it produces. The population is a little under 15,000 and the weather is nicer in spring than it is in summer where it gets too humid. It’s considered a small town, though that number is relative in consideration, and currently the local officials are sending off reports about the water supply. 

Even when doing deep research using official means, there was nothing that unusual about the place. No major criminal incidents or occult presence or some other thing that would make this occur naturally. Gojo is no stranger to small town violence or bullying and they can often produce the most volatile curses.

But he’s currently on his 3rd day here, where he’s taken up talking with the locals and he can’t find any specific attitude that would foster a special grade. 

It had led him to a conclusion,  but one he was deliberately avoiding. That someone planted the curse here in Nagasaki, or maybe somewhere else. Which really complicates the whole affair, because then this is an investigation and not just a situation of fate. It also means that this curse was likely harvested somewhere and that Gojo can’t be sure it’ll be easy to get rid of. 

Most importantly, all that fanfare means he’ll be home late. 

Given how much he’s longing to see you, it’s the thing he’s been dreading most. 

It’s weird. He’s never dying to see anyone, with the exception of an old friend long gone. But Gojo has been desperate to see you for the few weeks he’s been away from home. 

(He can’t tell if it’s normal to long this much for a person he truthfully doesn’t know that well.) 

But, while he’s away from home, the thoughts of you play on loop in his head. Like white noise, static yet constant -  there, all the same.  As he walks the rainy streets of Hasami, hands in his pockets - he can’t help but wonder when the next time he gets to see you will be

It’s like some sort of miracle (aren’t you always one?) when Gojo hears his phone ring, buzzing against his abdomen. 

He’s drawn back into reality when he feels it. In front of a store that sells handmade plates and glasses, he lets it go for a while. Feels it buzz against his pocket while he settles his thoughts. He examines his surroundings,  notices the cars, and the mother with her daughter across the street and the gray sky - all before he picks it up. Your name flashes him on screen, and something itches deep in his chest.

The clouds open up. And it’s still raining, but there’s a ray of sunlight cutting through them. For a minute Gojo feels worldly, grinning with damp skin before he slides his thumb across the phone. 

You’ve never called him before. 

“Hello?” He greets, wondering if it was an accident. Then you come through the other side of the line.

“Hi ~,” You say, clearly doing something in the midst of talking “How’ve you been?” 

“I’ve been alright. Very shocked you called me, yanno?”

You laugh quietly. 

“Sorry about that. I just wanted to check in. And I wanted to say thank you.” 

“I mean… I’ll accept but I feel like I should know what for.” He jokes. Your tone goes sincere, marshmallow soft and twice as sweet. 

“You paid the rest of the fees for the dog out of pocket, didn’t you?” 

He smiles to himself.

“Ah. Busted. That was supposed to be a secret between me and Mr. Security-Man,” 

“He didn’t tell me. I just…guessed. Seems like something you’d do.” 

His first instinct is to disagree.

“It’s not like I did it out of the goodness of my heart, okay? It was looking a little sad sleeping during the cold seasons. It was very pitiful. So bad, so sad.” 

“Why’d you do it?” You ask, probing but not too deeply “Like… really. It was really nice of you, but it was a couple thousand and that can’t be cheap.”

He relents, head leaning back on the wall behind him. 

“The kids, remember?” He murmurs, eyes staring up at the gray clouds “You said they’d be sad if the dog didn’t get adopted soon.” 

“The way you’re talking about it makes it seem like you’re doing this for me.” 

“And if I was? Would that bother you, hm?” 

You wait a minute, hesitating with your words. 

“Well…no. I guess not, I just—thank you. I guess I’m just a little… embarrassed about it or whatever.” 

“Shy, huh? Cute.”

“Jeez,” You huff. Gojo can practically hear your grinning from the other side; it makes his heart flutter. He wants to go home, to wherever you are “And you always say you’re no flirt.” 

“I’m not a flirt. I’m just telling it how it is.” 

“Yeah? Well, thanks anyway then. It made them really happy. You should’ve been there to see it. Maybe you can tell them when you get back?” 

“Don’t wanna.” He states outright. 

“You didn’t even think about it!” You exclaim.

“Mm, because I don’t have to. I definitely don’t want them to know.” 

“Why not, though? You’d be their hero, y’know? 

Maybe it’s something in the air. The damp weather out closer to the ocean, or the distance between you. There’s a tiny echo in your words, mechanical through the speakers. The word hero leaves a melancholy in his mouth, floating in the back of his throat like liquor refusing to go down. He chuckles. 

“Ooo, are you into that kinda thing? Like, super charming knights in shining armor? Or superheroes, maybe?” 

You giggle on the other side of the line. If you notice him avoiding answering you, you have the courtesy not to say anything.

“Isn’t everyone? I don’t know. I think if a really good-looking guy saved my life, it’d probably make my heart race a little, yeah. I’d catch feelings over that for sure.” 

He takes a deep breath. Everything smells like rain. 

“Is that so?” He says, chest blooming with warmth “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

__

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed. 

He was out there for a long time, at least longer than usual when he’s traveling for a mission. He’s not used to hitting so many dead ends. The problem kept growing, but every trail he’d uncovered went cold in about a day. Just before he gave up hope, he was called in by Yagi. Since the issue has spread into other parts of the city, it’s no longer his solo jurisdiction. 

More hands on meant more time for Gojo to be teaching. It also meant that he would finally see you after so long. You waited for him outside the day he returned to Tokyo - wearing a cream colored sweater and the prettiest smile Gojo had ever laid eyes on. 

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed but it’s not entirely pointless. Upon returning - he had a somewhat shallow epiphany about the way you make him feel. About the way he’s affected by you, which is arguably more valuable than some lead.

Being away from you for so long is something that makes him so irritable. He’s had some time between then and now to come into terms with it. 

Falling back into his routine, it was obvious. Suddenly there was a gap he’d never noticed before that blew wide enough for him to fall through. He actively avoids not seeing you if he can, and ever since your permissive conversation a few weeks ago - it’s harder to notice the way his desires fester. 

There’s not much he wants out of his life. So when anything noteworthy pops up, Gojo is always eager to get a hold of it before it’s too late. 

He usually soothes that by reminding himself of your position as a civilian, a kindergarten teacher at that. The responsible thing to do is make sure you’re safe. To play the hero from the sidelines and ensure you don’t encounter anything from his line of work. That’s his whole life's work. To create a life like that, and it helps to stay on that path when he believes you’re sheltered from that reality. 

That’s why, when you tell Gojo you can see curses, he feels the entire floor collapse from underneath his feet. 

He receives such devastating news over a cup of coffee at that.

It’s closing in to Fall slowly and Gojo has decided to take you out to eat as an apology for his disappearance. He intended to give you another half-truth about his job so you wouldn’t lose any sleep over him. 

When it happens, it’s less that you tell him, and more that you keep glancing. Just over his shoulder, with this terrified expression that Gojo couldn’t not notice, even if he tried. 

You’ve got your hands around a warm drink, in a white, ceramic mug but your gaze keeps diverting to the place behind him. When he looks over to that same place, a curse is there. Small. More insignificant than a bug, but there. 

It’s risky to mention it. Because if Gojo is wrong, it’s not something he can brush off. He’d have to come up with something to excuse himself, and he isn’t sure how to lie out of that (even with his natural disposition of being a trickster.) But when you keep looking, his instinct kicks in. There’s no way you aren’t seeing it. 

He doesn’t ask you directly. That’d be too incriminating, so he lowers his tone. Watches you briefly as you tremble in fear. 

(A small, small  part of him is only asking because he doesn’t like how distracted you are from him. Killing the curse seems like it’d relieve that annoyance too.)

“Can you see it…?” 

The question makes you jump out of your skin. You reel back, eyes widened before the realization really sets in. 

“....It?” 

Gojo looks around the cafe for a minute, to make sure no one is listening before he turns around and points to the cursed spirit behind him. 

“It,” He says, thumb pointed at the deformed curse moaning in one of the booths. 

When it dawns on you that Gojo sees what you see, you cup a hand over your mouth in shock. He can’t describe the way getting that confirmation feels. It raises so many questions about who you are. More than he had before, at least. 

No longer are you the innocent, clueless civilian and that changes every interaction he’s had with you since the start. Though it’s not uncommon for people who can see curses to fall through the cracks, he can feel his own curiosity dig into his skin like seeds taking root. He doesn’t think he should be excited, but he is. 

He’s excited watching your fearful tremble. He’s never seen you like that.

“Yes,” You say, voice a little shaky this time “I can see… it.” 

He takes the spoon out of his latte and cleans it with his mouth. Studying your expression momentarily, he takes a deep breath before standing to his feet. The terror is so subtle, the kind he can only catch because he’s so familiar.. He knows those emotions better than he knows most. 

Curses aren’t phobias. Not illusions or ghosts, but tangible madness. Impactful to those who can see it, but nothing to those who can’t. Fear like that, which can’t be shared with anyone, has a specific look when it shows up in someone. Gojo hasn’t felt that fear since he was very, very little. He watches curses with the same bland expression he might watch a horror movie, but he can understand your reaction at least.  He knows it like the back of his hand. All the people he’s saved, who could see them too, always wore the same one. 

Still, he’s caught off guard. He feels bad that you’re scared. But the proximity between you and him which was once oceans wide has decreased significantly in no time at all. That feels good. Even better than he would’ve imagined. 

“Are you scared?” He questions intently, maintaining a sense of neutrality.

You swallow a lump in your throat, eyes glued to the table in front of you.

“Yes,” 

Your voice is a hoarse whisper. The corners of his lips twitch upward. 

When he’s sure no one is looking, he stands up and walks over to the table behind him. Pretending to look for something so he doesn’t look out of place. It doesn’t take more than a second to destroy it. It’s tiny, something he’d never think of fighting since it’s so harmless. The curse equivalent to a fly. 

He gives it a violent death and sees you look on with horror in your expression. He finds himself pleased with that, wiping his hands on his pants before returning. Maybe you recognize his strength when he sits back down. Still, instead of pulling away again, you fold your hands in your lap. 

“T-Thank you,”

He grins at you. 

“Of course,” He says  “Can I ask you something?” 

You nod your head and sip your tea. 

“Do you know who I am?” 

You look confused.

“...Are you a celebrity?” 

He laughs hard at that. Hearing that makes him not want to tell you. 

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” He reintroduces. You nod slowly “I’m a sorcerer.” 

Another lie of omission. The strongest, he should say. He takes a sip of his latte, frowning at the bitterness. Through his mask, he watches as you fiddle with your hands. He stacks the empty creamer cups together before opening two more sugar packets and stirring them. 

“A sorcerer…” You look perplexed. Confusion settles into the lines of your face. Sheltered, Gojo concludes. Only parents, who shelter you wouldn’t tell you what a sorcerer was despite your ability to see them “What does that… mean exactly?” 

“It means I kill curses for a living” He replies simply. 

“I thought you were a high school teacher.” 

He smiles. 

“Smart cookie. I am, but the school I teach at specializes in cursed technique and sorcery.”

“Oh.” 

You look befuddled. 

Gojo thinks he might be an opportunist. 

“Do you really not know anything about them? It’s rare for people to be able to see them and not know anything about them.”

You shake your head, eyes peering into your drink. He watches how the image reflects in your eyes.

“Uhm. Not really. My parents told me to do my best to stay away from it. We lived in the countryside but I had to move out into the city for work so I kept… running into them. I can’t like… kill them. And I don't always see them.” 

“You can’t use cursed techniques?” 

“I guess that’s what that is. I don’t think I can, no.” 

Vulnerable. 

“Hmm. What circumstances,” He says, purposeful in weaving concern in his words. 

“Is it that bad…?” 

Not really. His job and the job of his peers is to make sure civilians make as little contact with curses as possible. There are more people like you, and because curses feed off of negative emotions - many dangers can be shafted by just not reacting. Even so, it’s customary for people to have some semblance of protection. A weapon if nothing else, for anyone who can see them.

“Do you carry anything with you?” 

“Like a weapon? I have mace for when I take the train late at night.” 

“Not that kind of weapon,” He says gracefully. He can tell you’re out of your element, and some small and twisted part of him would like to keep you in the fateful dark.

“What other kind would there be?” 

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” He half answers. Your frown deepens. He puts his palm over the top of his coffee cup but doesn’t feel any warmth “Aw, don’t be like that. I’m just teasing. You’re always so calm and collected, I was surprised to see how scared you got, you know?” 

“Everybody gets scared sometimes.” 

“Mm,”

His non-committal response leaves you nervous again. Fidgeting with the edge of your cup or the loose threads in the sleeves of your clothes. What a bundle of nerves you are. Gojo puts all the comfort he can in his voice, dredging up some sense of sincerity.

“Well, since it scares you and I’m such a nice guy, I’ll protect you if you get into any trouble.” He says, snapping his fingers and pointing at you.

That makes you relax. Makes your shoulders droop, a smile gracing your pretty face. Gojo can feel the floor underneath him sinking as you tease him. His eyes trace the curve of your neck. He’s glad you can’t see him or where they look. 

“Oh, what? Are you gonna come running every time I need help?” 

He smiles. 

“I’ll be your personal Superman.” He promises, making a silly expression trying to make you laugh. It feels good when he succeeds, the weight of his words softened by it. If you feel how heavy the comment is, it doesn’t show up on your face. 

You snort, taking a sip of your drink and there’s something so kind in your expression that Gojo aches over. 

“That right?” You hum, smiling over the edge of your ceramic mug “You’re my hero.”

__ 

Since then, Gojo’s kept quite busy.

The last time he saw you at all was at the diner a few weeks prior and little has been different since then. You send more nervous messages than before, but aside from that things are the same.

He’s done a good job, he thinks. Partly of ensuring you, partly of instilling healthy fear. Your eyes always widen like you’re caught off guard by his comments - sometimes washed away with a laugh but other times genuine. Gojo likes to keep you on your toes. A  bit of harmless fun and endlessly amusing. 

Gojo would be there to protect you just like he promised before, so even scaring you isn’t something he thinks of as bad. It’s not untrue that you should be a little more vigilant, but just telling you to do so is no easy feat. 

He would like to be spending time with you today just the same as he has before, but he’s home alone instead. There’s been a brief reprieve between cases so he’s on his own to unwind. There’s nothing he wants to do, so he decides on a movie. 

Gojo is the only one of his friends who still has cable TV. According to Shoko it’s a luxury purchase but for him it’s one less choice he has to make when coming home to relax.

It’s an American film on now, some psycho-killer classic that he’s already seen a handful of times with Japanese subtitles. 

None of the lights are turned on, so the TV illuminates the room in flashes of color. He grabs a soda from his steel-gray fridge and cracks it open, listening to the soft fizz that comes to a slow halt. Pulling it to his mouth, he travels slowly back to his couch. The leather squeaks under the weight of his body. The weight of his back creates a divet that he can be comfortable in. He rests his head, glancing back again at the screen. 

A scream rips through the house, agitating his every nerve. He picks up his remote and turns it down just a tad before watching the movie with a sort of disinterest. Horror movies aren’t his favorite, admittedly. He pretends he scares easily, but the opposite is true. Gojo has seen too much for it to be entertaining, no less scary. 

He likes movies based on their creative merit. He’ll watch one on its creative merit. 

But to be scared? For frights? Not really. Very little gets his heart pumping hard like that. Sometimes the storytelling is good. Other times there’s something cathartic about the formulaic death. The final girl, the call from inside the house. The dependable and clean ending of tropes. Even if it’s messy or sinister, it’s fantastical. Fictitious and detached. 

Gojo enjoys that. For anyone else, it’s probably a twisted way to think about it but to Gojo it only feels natural. He doesn’t examine that detachment very deeply. He’s just aware of it, lingering in the back of his head. 

He takes a long sip of his drink. The sickly sweet taste slowly coats his mouth. Fizzy and smooth, it goes down easily. He sits up in his seat, making himself comfortable as he tries to pay attention to the movie. The main girl is hiding in the bathroom, and the killers' steps are echoing through the house. The broken, somber string instruments in the background, fill the white noise with apprehension and terror. 

Gojo doesn’t feel a chill down his spine. His eyes are still fixed on the screen though, with slight anticipation of what's next even though he already knows. It’s nearing the end and he’s seen this movie before. She’s not going to make it, and Gojo knows that. 

He watches intently in spite of that. The door bursts open and there’s a knife in her chest - and screams. It’s horrific and ugly, blood-spattered and graphic. 

He doesn’t flinch until the whole way through.

It’s brief, but the thought passes his mind. Lately, the only thing that Gojo seems to react to is you.

But he doesn’t think about it too deeply. There’s no need to. 

The TV goes to commercial and Gojo realizes he’s finished his soda. He stands back up, onto his feet to toss the can and grab another. This time, he grabs some snacks too. Piles them onto a plate, dried meats, and something mildly sweet for after before he returns to his living room. Sitting back down on his couch, he scrolls through his phone for anything interesting but comes up short of any results. 

He sits up a little straighter as the next movie plays. 

__

Spending time around curses is a necessary part of the learning experience.

Things you can’t learn in all the lessons and tutoring in the entire world. Even though Jujutsu Tech exists, and even given Gojo’s lineage - when he started working officially, he didn’t know everything. You can’t. No matter to what extent you study, there’s some things that you can only gauge through experience. Going through something over and over, like muscle memory.

Gojo spent a lot of his life wanting it to make sense. Wanting curses and the way they showed up to make sense. This is a lesson in truth, divine truth you can only take up in experience. Curses are human emotions, which means that they are finicky and everywhere. And the dangers of them will always look like the aftermath of destruction. 

Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do to prepare for why things happen. It’s why Gojo is always grasping for light where he can find it. 

Gojo Satoru stands in an empty parking lot all the way in Osaka. He examines the sight in front of him and can’t find anything he’s learned to prepare for what's next. 

Fog has rolled in thick clouds over every inch, limiting his vision. The air tastes of smoke, and the earth underneath him is damp. The wet concrete squeaks under the weight of his shoes as he takes in the surroundings. The parking lot of an animal hospital, in particular - where all the staff were reported to have fallen unconscious. After being rolled out by the proper authorities and after all the animals were moved into a different location - Gojo was left to examine the remnants of the incident. 

The reports are similar all across the country. Not the location. but the symptoms. People falling sick and ill. The initial reports of a water-borne illness didn’t progress far past the first city. It’s evolved since then. People get sick, pass out and hallucinate and animals lose all control. 

The aftermath isn’t very messy so luckily it doesn’t attract too much attention. There’s no bodies, or blood - nothing  heinous thereafter. The effects appear later in the people affected, taken over by an unnamed madness that appears to turn their internal experience to ruins. Gojo would’ve preferred the first situation. Violence like that becomes easy to digest with enough exposure. 

These kinds of symptoms are always hard to stomach. Civilians get answers that placate them. The truth is that there's something bigger out there at play and they were just so unlucky to bear witness to the terror. With altered memories and the badge of trauma, what they don’t know can’t hurt them. 

Gojo knows though, and sometimes he envies their ignorance.

He makes his way into the building. A set of glass doors greets him when he turns the sidewalk, with a blinking sign. Osaka Animal Hospital is written at the top in neon, accompanied by the words 24hr service. Gojo only glances at it briefly before sighing, hands on the bar to push himself through the heavy glass doors. He has to lean some of his weight to get through, and there’s just another set beyond those where he has to do the same. 

Then, he’s inside. 

The presence of the curse and of cursed energy ignites familiar caution within him. It’s here, in some capacity - or it was recently. The perpetrator is here too. Why that is, Gojo can’t quite understand. It seems a little backwards to linger here after everyones been evacuated and there’s no doubt someone would come to investigate. 

All Gojo can think is that maybe they weren’t expecting him. But by now, they must know he’s there too. Gojo’s presence is intentionally oppressive - by nature it must be. Now it’s a waiting game, a quiet one at that. 

Hospitals are always echoey and this one is no different. The squeak of his boots bounces off the walls as he takes steps towards the receptionist desk just to see if he’ll find anything. 

He leans over it, to stare at the left over records - untouched by the authorities. Everything looks like it was left in a hurry. Strew pens and a corded phone just barely back in place - with computers on a blue idle screen. All the daily documents are still out sitting on the desk with no organization to indicate they’ve been filtered through. No paper clips or post-its telling the next person working about what to do. 

Instead of walking behind the counter, he climbs over it with relative ease. Once he’s behind it, he takes better note of his surroundings. He doesn’t find anything completely relevant. There’s painting of animals, and some certifications for bills of health as well - but nothing that warrants his attention. He redirects through the papers in front of him, coming across a stack unexamined. Those answer sheets they give you to fill out so they can assess the situation before meeting you. 

They’re split into two piles it looks like, though that could just be some coincidence. Still, he flips through them. Directing his attention to the little comment box with the prompt what are you being seen for? 

It’s nothing serious. Normal things an animal owner would be upset or worried about like bowel movements and eating something that shouldn’t have been consumed. A minor injury or a worrisome behavior - but nothing that sticks out. For pages and pages, Gojo flips through the little packets trying to find anything. 

It’s not what he sees, but what he doesn’t. A blank packet of papers, with no name for the owner or the pet. Only a description in the prompt box, neat handwriting in a single line. 

“Showing signs of anxiety.” 

Gojo smiles to himself. Interesting. 

He jumps back over onto the other side once he’s seen it. It’s strange. Why would they go to the lengths of premeditating it like that? Whether it’s the curse itself or some third party, it’s an unreasonable thing to do. 

“Not like people like this are usually reasonable, but,” 

He saves the rest of the thought, sighing. The room has two hallways to go down. Both directions have some lingering cursed energy,  but the hallway leading to the overnight area is much stronger. It’s separated by a big metal door, so Gojo braces himself to go through it.

He walks towards it slowly and through the doors even slower. It’s a long, empty hall. The ceilings are low, white fluorescent lights over his head like a falsified halo. They flicker on and off, with the ones at the very end of the hall having fizzled out completely. Gojo can hear, feel, and see everything. He can hear his own breathing and the artificial crackling  of electricity. Feel the lingering presence of sickness, the sediments of a curse preparing itself to emerge like a butterfly from a cocoon. 

He peeks into the different rooms of the hallway. One half of the hall is kennels, once again empty and left in the same messy state as the front desk. The other half of the rooms look like surgery rooms, with a storage closet tucked into one corner. The hall comes to an abrupt stop at the end, a painted gray wall with nothing to offer at the end.

But when Gojo is half-way through, he hears it. A heart-beat. A human one, slow and steady like it’s not worried at all. Not moving or running, just there. Thump, thump, thump. 

Gojo perks his head up as he walks, leaning over to get a look at every room. Empty, empty, empty. 

Then, in the very last one is a shadowy figure. The sound of the heartbeat is louder and the feeling of cursed energy is so strong it’s nauseating. Gojo pauses when he peers in, waits for there to be any response to his presence. There’s no way whoevers lurking doesn’t know he’s there, but there’s nothing that makes him react. He frowns. 

His hand reaches for the handle of the door with a sigh, the mechanism inside clicking to let Gojo know it’s open. He takes a deep breath before opening it, stepping inside and shutting it behind him. 

Even with the room as dark as it, the person inside is clear to his vision. A young girl. Probably no older than 17 with… 

He furrows his brow. With a dog, from what it looks like. No ordinary dog, obviously. A curse in the form of a dog, with teeth too sharp for its mouth and fur that looks like a smear of charcoal and nothing like hair at all. It’s on a long leash, the chain wrapped around the young woman's palms. 

The dog seems to tense up at the sight of Gojo. The eyes are empty and white - almost transparent. It’s a snarling thing, muzzle over the mouth and clearly on edge. Gojo looks at its owner, the perpetrator in this instance. Who looks calm, black mask tucked over face and long dark hair with bangs cut sharp.

Gojo doesn’t know what to say here. He wasn’t expecting to make contact this easily with a curse and its master. It’s been months now, the authorities chasing after this special grade from city to city. She’s obviously strong, and so is that curse that’s strained against its collar like it’s ready to rip him in half if he moves. Not stronger than him, because no such thing ever happens - but strong enough for him to be cautious. 

He doesn’t step forward. He stops by the door and tilts his head. He’s sure she can’t see his eyes, but they make eye contact all the same. None of it makes any sense, but making sense of it isn’t Gojo’s job. 

Instead of introducing himself, he opens the conversation with a question. 

“Why’re you still here?” 

“I knew I was going to get caught soon.” 

An answer he couldn’t predict even if he tried. Gojo huffs. 

“There was some time between the authorities coming and this investigation. You could have left before then, no?” 

“Doesn’t matter. Something would’ve stopped me.” 

“What a weird kid. What led you to that?” 

There’s a minute where the dog (?) starts barking,  but the noise is nothing like a bark. It’s cosmic and strained, and sounds more like a distorted radio than an animal noise. It’s in the shape of an animal but it isn’t one, like it couldn’t complete itself to be one. Gojo winces at the sound, intensified in the closed walls of the room. It’s piercing, and a little annoying. 

When she soothes it, it calms down quickly. It’s obedient. 

“Uh. A vision. Closer to a premonition. Fate.”

“Fate said you were going to get caught today. Right.” 

“Aren’t you a shaman? Shouldn’t be that hard to believe.” 

“Point taken. How did you know I was a shaman and not some murderer?” 

She gives Gojo a pointed look. 

“Look at you. Plus, I can feel that you’re a shaman.” 

“Another premonition?” He asks, this time sincerely. She shakes her head. 

“No. Your aura.” 

Gojo stares ahead. 

“...Right, yeah. It doesn’t look like you’re planning on attacking me.” 

“I don’t think I’d win. I’ve never met anyone stronger than me.” 

“I’m the strongest there is, so I guess not. How did you wanna go about this, then? Famous last words?” 

“You go first. I’d rather talk to you than the other officials.” 

“Hm. Don’t know if I have any questions, kiddo. My job is catching you, not interrogation. I guess I am a little interested in why.” 

This makes her deflate a little. It’s hardly noticeable, but Gojo sees it anyway. The dog seems to react, snarling at her discomfort. He’s starting to understand the connection between them.

She thinks for a minute longer before sighing. 

“Well. I guess I should start about why, right? It’s an old story. I came from a small village. I used to walk miles to school everyday and I’d get bullied a lot since my granny was a shaman. It was just us growing up. A nice old house with not a lot of modern anything,”

Gojo crosses his arms, leaning back on the wall and nodding his head. He figures she’ll tell him top to bottom, so he doesn’t give any input. 

“My granny died a few years ago. I didn’t have any family so I moved on my own. Even back then, the only other thing I cared about were animals. I started working at a shelter and then I met Senbei.” 

The more she talks, the worse he feels. Gojo already knows how this story will end, but he doesn’t interrupt her as she pauses between her sentences. Being 17 and bearing the burdens of loss is something he regards as a nightmare. 

“Senbei was my best friend. Most loyal dog ever. And you know, I started my job with high hopes and kept him by my side. I wasn’t always angry. Working in that shelter and watching animals come in trembling every time I fed ‘em made me angry. How cruel and sick people could be.” 

Her explanations are jumbled and clumsy. She sounds angry but it’s not that simple, curling in on herself the more she talks. Noticeably, she doesn’t try to justify it. She says it easily, with acceptance that it happened.  He thinks that acceptance is harder to bear than delusion. Gojo can’t help but commend her silently. 

“I’m sorry you went through that.”  Gojo replies. 

He’s being sincere. 

“Should you be sympathizing with me?” 

“Doesn’t matter. I just do.”

Her expression softens. She looks sad, and it’s not like Gojo doesn’t understand.  She keeps going though, hands shaking in her lap. Gojo thinks she might’ve been waiting to tell someone. 

“I don’t know when I stopped seeing the good in people….I always thought about—about my granny and how no one—no one came to see her. She was always taking care of everyone and no-one—“

“I know, kid,” Gojo says with a sigh “I get it.” 

“Then you know,” She pauses, taking a deep breath. There’s frustrated tears pouring down her cheek this time. What a strange, sad thing she is:  “That you can’t go back. Even if you forget. It just—it changes you.” 

Yeah. Gojo knows something about that, too. 

“I was already pretty desperate when Senbei was alive. Just trying to hold on. When he was killed, I lost it. I just fucking— I lost it. I’m sure you understand. You get it right?”

Gojo looks at her confused. She shakes her head, looking down in her lap at the curse in her hands.

“I can tell you're like me.  That's why your aura is so tainted and… fucked up and  malicious. It should be crystalline blue kinda like spring water—but it’s muddy. Rigid.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“The fact you’re hanging on by a thread. You can feel it too, right?“ 

Gojo remains quiet at her observation. He doesn’t know how to react. 

“When you want something so bad, it just— does something to you. Either because it won’t happen or because it needs to take your life to exist. Happened to granny, to me. It’ll happen to you, too.”

“I doubt that,” Gojo says, your face flashing in his mind. He shakes his thoughts away. 

“You’re thinking about it too literally. You want something, so you chase it and lose yourself in the process. You’re dead. No longer you, all tangled and in ruins. It’s not too late, but if you keep going—that thread is gonna snap.” 

“A premonition?” He says, partially sarcastic. She shakes her head. 

“No, a prediction. You don’t have to consider it if you don’t want to. I just thought I’d tell you since you gave me some last minutes with this Senbei.” 

Gojo shakes his head. 

“I don’t have any reason to be forceful if you comply. Take your time. I don’t have anything better to do.” 

Gojo glances at her as she pets it, having resigned herself to silently gazing upon it. He can’t stop himself from thinking about everything she’s said, so he averts his gaze to the ceiling and pretends otherwise.

The silent stretches, a pregnant pause before she speaks one more time. She has a look on her face Gojo can’t read.

“You know, it’s funny. Everyone thinks dogs are loyal to their masters, but that’s because we made them that way. We can’t stand being alone or unloved so we made something that can do both without ever seeing any less of us.” 

“You’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”  Gojo says, unsure of how to reply. She isn’t expecting anything, but remaining silent fills him with a sense of dread. 

“Guess so. You should take some time to think about it too,”

She says to him, petting the curse that whines like it’s been hit in her small hands. Gojo takes a deep breath. 

“…Yeah. I’ll do that.” 

__

The case ends anti-climatically. 

Gojo finds it funny. The officials came and the young girl was promptly arrested. He never even got a chance to ask her name. He learned through some probing that she only made two asks before being taken. 

The first, to keep her curse dog with her, and to send her thanks to the sorcerer who had apprehended her in the first place.

On the news, much later in the week - a news report surfaces. “Danger in the Deep,” giving reasonable and logical explanations for the events that occurred in cities across Japan not even a few weeks ago. New studies show, experts say, here’s a word from your local—a barrage of fancy language to pad the publishing, add depth and realism. The public is none the wiser. 

Gojo has to admire the commitment to keeping the peace. The case ends, and the girl gets arrested and put on trial. He doesn’t know if he’ll be seeing her again any time soon, though he’s sure he has the power to intervene. 

He’s hesitating to do so. Why stick his neck out for her in a situation like this one? Over other situations, more dire ones at that. She’d make a good ally.

Their last conversation hasn’t left the back of Gojo’s mind. He’s conscious of it, albeit it hasn’t slowed him down. He’s not looking for another assessment of who or what ghosts are haunting him. He’d prefer to put it all behind him now

So life, in some capacity, has returned to its baseline. It’s normal. He has cases but they don’t take him more than three days. He’s able to do his usual chores without anything impeding them. He’s been teaching, no longer forced to make his students fend for themselves. 

He’s been seeing you again regularly, too. 

He’s getting ready now to do just that. Scheduled to get another coffee together (something of a tradition now) and pick up some conversations. You’ve been busy, though Gojo doesn’t know the details of what.

He wants to know. He’s even tried asking but as soon as he gets close to the subject, you slink into yourself like you’re trying to disappear. Besides, he doesn’t want to intimidate you into telling him. 

(Though, it would be so easy to do. You’ve got a record for being a scaredy cat, and as much as it endears him - he is entirely too hung up on the potential for exploitation to admire it kindly. It’d be easy to turn the notches up, pressure you. With how easy going you are, you’d let him do it. Gojo bets you’d cave. He thinks the face you’d make would be entertaining too. 

Above all, the offer is tempting.) 

In spite of your refusal to discuss the specifics, Gojo does want to cheer you up in whatever capacity he can. So, he’s taking you out for a while and hoping a comfortable environment and the presence of other people will soothe your nerves a little. 

He’s getting dressed for it now, rifling through his closet for decent casual attire. 

He’s got his hair styled down, a pair of new sunglasses on the table and his clothes folded on his bed before he tries them on. Most of his closet is uniforms, plain black and boring. For now, he’s settled on a black crew neck and blue jeans - ripped at the knees. 

He looks over his appearance in the mirror, posing in it. Arms flexed and stretched over his head before putting them out in front of his body. 

He takes his time to take part in the ritual. He slips his boxers up over his legs, waist band tight around his torso and clinging to the curves of his thighs. He pulls his jeans up, low at his hips with a belt buckled through the front. Then comes his sweater over his abdomen. 

He wants to look nice. Though, he could be deluding himself - lately you seem a little more aware of his appearance. It makes him happy that his good looks haven’t failed him in the instance they matter most. 

As he puts on his accessories (in this case a watch and a ring) his phone buzzes atop his dresser. He stops to pick it up, a message from you on the screen. He peers over so his face can be read, then smiles. 

(sent 11:15am) Ready ~ 

He laughs to himself. 

(sent 11:16am) Almost ready. Need to look my best for such a tremendous occasion. 

(sent 11:16am) For coffee? 

(sent 11;17) For coffee with my favorite kindergarten teacher ofc ♡

You send back a simple reply telling him to hurry and come out. Gojo chooses to interpret your embarrassment as a sign. It puts some pep in his step, and he hurries to finish dressing up. 

He steps out of his house, locking his door from the outside before shuffling down a single flight of stairs and out into the front entrance of his complex. He notices you waiting at the front gate from where he’s standing. 

The neighborhood dog (officially named Pokupan) is asleep by the security office. You’re the same as always. Today's outfit is a dress with long sleeves and colored tights. It suits you. A splash of warmth in an otherwise dreary world, Gojo stands in place as he watches you for an unidentified amount of time. Minutes feel like seconds as you pace back and forth. Your phone must be in your purse because he can’t find it anywhere on you. 

He’s delighted when you finally turn your head to look at him. You cup your hand and give him a kind wave which he laughs at and returns enthusiastically. His stride is long, walking towards the gate. 

You have to tilt your neck up to look at him (making his chest squeeze unhelpfully) but you smile when you do so. 

“Hey,” 

“Hello there Miss. Waiting for a special someone?” He jokes. You flush. 

“They’re an important friend,” 

He tries not to let his smile falter. Friend. 

“Then, is it a bother if I ask to take you out?” 

This time you falter. Gojo notices it out of the corner of his eye, the briefest brush of nerves that makes it seem like you’re warming up to him after all. It’s gone as quickly as it came but it’s there and Gojo etches it into the back of his eyelids for memory. He smiles at you as you look away, flush

“Not at all,” 

He grins, again, even brighter. Then he sticks his arm out for you to loop in. You hesitate again. This time Gojo can’t be sure why.

“I’m just being a gentleman, you know?” He pouts. His frown takes effect as you loop your arms together. He keeps it friendly. Too much pushing and you’ll skitter away right before his eyes. Still, even this much progress feels good. It feels whole and light and good. 

It’s a pleasant sort of day. 

Not that it’s warm, or even sunny. It’s cold, on the edge of Autumn that dances into Winter. Freezing but bright out, the kind of sky where everything is clear. During the day the sky has no clouds and no stars when it comes to night time. 

Nonetheless it’s nice. The cold is the kind that makes you want to cozy into someone for warmth, so Gojo doesn’t mind walking in. The walk itself isn’t very long either. The cafe is near your complex, just about 15 minutes worth of walking. There’s no snow or ice to trip on, and because it’s freezing - you shiver every time you stray too far from the heat of his body so the walking is done exceptionally close together

There are kids and parents walking together on the street alongside you, dogs and their owners, street vendors with hot tea. It’s that kind of day where the cold doesn’t keep anyone indoors, in fact everyone seems to relish in the fact they can run and run and run without overheating. It feels like everything is in sync with each other, comfortable and harmonious in spite of everything else.

After 15 minutes, you’ve arrived at the store front. Not long enough for Gojo, but that’s okay. There’s next time he has to look forward too. 

(He tells himself this every time. It’s never enough for him. He can never get enough of listening to you talk. He could probably mimic your cadence without having to try. It’s a sound he doesn’t get sick of―a miracle, another one, because Gojo hates so many sounds―yet there’s one he always looks out for. 

There has to be a next time. If he forgets to tell himself as much, he gets so restless he can hardly stand.

The cafe is nice. It’s one of those places that you see on Instagram often with plenty of sweets for Gojo’s taste and plenty of fancy teas for yours. The outside has beige-colored brick and a brown sign decorated with cutesy drawings. You spend a good amount of time crouched beside it, taking a picture or two to later post on your story. 

“You have to tag me, okay? It’s your payment for wasting our precious time together,” He jokes. 

You stand to your feet and brush off your pants, the material of your coat rustling as you do. 

“Yes, yes ― I promise. I’ll have to ask who drew them when we get in there.” 

Gojo smiles at your enthusiasm before opening the door for you.  Another one of those glass ones with a logo printed on the top half and the metal tinted brown. A little bell chimes above your head as you head in first, and Gojo heads in after you. He has to duck not to his his head on the top of it.

It’s not too crowded at this hour. A handful of people sit among the many tables and booths. Your head is turned to the menu and Gojo trails behind you like a shadow. One to compliment all your light. 

It smells delightful inside. Like warm cookies and vanilla and tea. Gojo feels his sweet tooth kick in the minute you two stand in line. The barista is a doe-eyed blonde college student. There’s another employee with long dark hair and thin, narrow eyes. It reminds Gojo a lot of that girl he met a few weeks ago but he tries to put that thought out of his mind.

He sticks his hands in his pockets and eyes the menu. The special item is a yuzu cream cake, the picture of it hanging on the wall like employee of the month. There’s a glass display of all the other items and the menu matches the rest of the decor.

“This was a good choice,” Gojo says, entranced by all the desserts around him. You laugh, turning your head slightly to look at him. 

“Are you complimenting yourself right now?” 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Your sweet tooth is so bad,” You say through giggles “Your poor dentist,” 

He gasps in offense.

“I will have you know I keep my pearly whites pristine. Not a single cavity for the record.” He says back, placing emphasis on the last words. You snort a laugh. 

“I’ve never had one either,” You repeat back, perhaps mindlessly before saying “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other yet.” 

Yet. Yet. Gojo’s subconscious will hold onto that word for too long. It makes his heart beat too loud. He’s relieved that you’re nothing like him. If you were in this very moment, you would hear the thunder raging inside of his ribs. 

Instead of saying anything, he scoffs playfully. 

“I bet you were such a goody two-shoes that you never ate sweets before bed-time.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise followed by embarrassment, where you tuck your chin into your sweater. 

“Ugh,” You say, so weakly Gojo can’t stop himself from laughing “What’s wrong with being a goody two shoes, huh?” 

Gojo feels almost feline in his self-satistication. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with it, just that you were one.” 

Your frown deepens. 

“I don’t care for your tone, mister.” 

“Are you gonna scold me like one of your students?” 

“If it gets you to be nice,” You say firmly, in that Teacher voice that Gojo has caught glimpses of over the last few months. He does a fake salute. 

“Yes, ma’am!,” He proclaims,  soft enough so only you hear it. You break out into another set of his giggles, melting his cold heart. It’s not the smile so much as it is yours.  The line moves up just a little bit. Gojo steps in front of you before you have a chance, his figure shadowing you. 

“What do you want?” 

“I think I’m gonna get one of those fruit teas and some cake.” You say absentmindedly. He smiles at you playfully. 

“Heard,” 

Gojo turns to order for you both, laughing through your obvious protests about his paying for you. He’s able to block you from getting in the way as the cashier looks on the both of you bemusedly. When the order is placed, Gojo taps his phone against the reader before moving aside where you stomp your feet and follow him. 

“I told you I would get it this time,” You whine. He hums. 

“Mm, there’s always next time?” 

“You say that every time!” 

“So you never know? Maybe it’s next time for sure.” 

You seem to realize that this is a fruitless conversation and that he’s not going to relent. With a flush on your face, you cross your arms and pout. 

“I’ll get you back one of these times, I swear….Anyway, thank you.” You add the last part quietly. He hums. 

“It’s only fair, you know. After all, who else would come here to eat sweets with me?” 

You look taken aback but Gojo doesn’t retract his statement. He’s sure there’s someone he could ask. But there’s no one who would agree to it as easily as you have. The environment wouldn’t be so welcoming, either. Someone who would do something like this with Gojo is long lost. It almost feels foreign to him now. 

In order to ease the tension, you look up at him warmly. 

“Then, I’m glad you asked me.” 

There it is again. That warm, sort of fluttery feeling he gets in his chest being around you. He wonders if he’s allowed to be so happy. 

The food arrives at the counter, the young woman calling out for Gojo. You and Gojo split the task of carrying the plates, picking a nice booth in the corner with the top covered, You slide in across from him, situating your bag. 

You and Gojo go back and forth, setting up everything so it looks nice under the lights. Gojo takes on taking the photos this time, clicking from a few different angles and stopping to show you after each photo. 

“I’ll send you the picture later, okay?” 

“Don’t forget.” 

“I won’t, I won’t. Let’s eat, okay?” 

You nod enthusiastically.

__ 

You and Gojo eat and chat comfortably for a while. 

He’s not sure how much time passes. He wasn’t checking because why would he? He’d like to be with you a bit longer, so he refrains from thinking about it and hopes you do the same. Just a bit more, he tells himself. Until you really, really have to go. 

There’s nothing major to catch up on. You tell Gojo about your job, mostly and how you saw some friends from out of town the week before. Winter is coming and you want to do something nice for the holidays. You’re getting along well with your fellow teachers which is good. He was worried about that, but he can’t keep eyes on you at school. 

(Not for not having tried. He’s thought about it, but his presence would be too noticeable and he doesn’t trust anyone else to the task) 

So it’s relieving. Your only complaint has been that some of the students have the sort of parents you can’t handle. Pushy and involved in a way you can’t ignore but can’t tolerate either. Gojo jokes to take care of them, gesturing to his arm like he’s ready to knock someone's lights out. 

That makes you laugh, and following it you have this melancholy look that sends alarms blaring in Gojo’s head. You don’t broach the subject at all afterwards. You talk about everything else you can. The sale on radishes at the market, thinking about getting a car just to have it, maybe visiting your parents sometime soon. 

Gojo listens. He doesn’t have much to add. His work is strictly classified to people who aren’t in the field and it’s nothing fun to begin with. He does tell you what he can - usually about some antics his students have gotten into during training. He can at least talk about that. 

He tells you about the movies he’s watched, how he went drinking with his co-workers last week, and how he thinks Pokupan is starting to act friendlier to him. 

It’s fun because it’s you. Gojo likes feeling like he’s involved with you intimately. He likes hearing you talk. The sound of your voice is such a pleasant contrast to his own. You talk with a kind of joy Gojo could never hope to carry, all gestures and smiles and interjections - trying to make sure your point comes across. How you don’t think the kid sitting in the front is a bad kid, just needs guidance. How the material of your sweater isn’t really cashmere but more of a blend. 

Time passes  comfortably that way. The drinks and food have been reduced to crumbs and cold drops of tea, glasses emptied and phones abandoned. 

But neither of you have made any move to leave, and Gojo is still listening to you talk with a pleased smile on his face. It was a pleasant sort of day, remember? 

“So it was fine in the end, but the classroom was such a mess seriously―” 

So, it throws Gojo off when you stop speaking so abruptly. How easily the atmosphere melts, and what an unpleasant film it leaves behind. 

It feels like an axe hammering on a stop, a sharp and near violent thud that cuts off the end of your sentence. The air becomes tense in the blink of an eye. Gojo can feel it, the sensation of cursed energy. It’s stagnated, little like pebbles at the bottom of a creek. But it’s there, and Gojo can feel it creep over your shoulders like a sixth sense. Like someone skipped a stone over that same water. He senses it in the air like dust in the light.

He sits up straight, focusing his attention on you. 

“Hey,” He calls out, softening his voice as much as he can. Trying hard to identify what's wrong exactly “You okay?” 

Your hands shake as you lay them flat on the table. You’re almost completely spaced out by now. It all happens in the blink of an eye. 

Gojo stares at you, calling to you a second time. 

“Hey. Hey, look at me?” 

When you finally hear him, you jump in your skin. Your shoulders relax when you realize it’s only Gojo. Normally that would make him happy, but not like this. Your hands are shaking. A nervous fidget in all of your movements that he’s never seen before, like you’ve been shocked with electric wire. He hates it. The taste of your fear (this fear) is different and unfamiliar. 

He doesn’t like it. 

You turn your head to look at him then avert your eyes again. He can’t follow your gaze as it shifts. It’s too erratic.

“No, uhm. It’s just, uhm.” 

“Woah! Hey, Miss. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” 

Everything feels like it slows down as Gojo watches your eyes snap up. Your expression drops again, even lower, and if he listens close enough he can hear the sound of your heart. Your discomfort is tangible. It leaves a metallic taste in Gojo’s mouth as you suddenly curl in yourself, shoulders hunched and peeling skin off your nails. 

You don’t even look to Gojo for help. Instead, your words go soft.  You become helpless in front of his eyes. 

“Oh. Yes, hello.” You bow your head trying to say as little as possible. Gojo stares as you shake like a leaf in the wind. Something ugly curls up inside of him, a knife twisting in his chest. 

“Aw, c’mon? What’s with the unfriendly act? Is it ‘cause you’re here with your boyfriend?”

You look up at him panicked. Not because of the comment, but because of his tone. Gojo hears it too. How sinister it is. Like he’s blaming you for it somehow, like you’ve wronged him. The feeling inside of him is so ugly, it’s so wretched. His knuckles turn nearly white from how hard he’s closing his fist. You put your hands up and go to explain yourself anxiously. 

It makes Gojo sick. He smiles, turning his head just a little so he can see. He opens his eyes and stares, focusing his vision on remembering every detail of the bastard's face.

“I’m not her boyfriend. We’re neighbors,” He explains, tone as cold as ice but smiling. 

Gojo puts pressure in the atmosphere. His natural and suffocating aura returns to him easily. He smiles and remains unnervingly still, waits in quiet for the man to respond. He scratches the back of his head, still indignant. 

“Uh. Okay. I guess that’s good. Wouldn’t be appropriate for a teacher to be out on a date like this huh?” 

Again. This guy, whoever he is, turns his head like he’s trying to talk down to you. Diverts his perversion and sadism towards you that leaves Gojo wondering what his head would look like against concrete. A bitter, heinous feeling waits inside of him, nesting into his ribs as the sound of every voice in the room comes to be muffled. All Gojo can hear is his heart. How long it's been since he’s heard it. 

It’s loud. A cacophony, or a hymn. Divine rage in the sound of his soul leaves has him unsure of how to proceed. 

Gojo glances at you. Your eyes are rounded, full of desperation. Pleading. 

Gojo hates whoever this is. Gojo wants to save you. He thinks you deserve to be saved. 

He stands up. He has enough height on the guy to be intimidating, the guy just barely coming up to his shoulder. Gojo stares down wildly, pulling his glasses to the bridge of his nose to peek briefly over the edge. The bastard stops talking immediately, words coming to a stutter, It’s satisfying. 

“Who are you?” He asks. 

“Wh-why is that any of your concern? Can’t you see I’m talking to―” 

“I didn’t ask about who you were talking to. I asked who you were,” 

He hears you from behind him “He’s a parent from my school,”

“Ah, okay. Interesting. Since you’re a parent, we wouldn’t want to make this a confrontation right?” Gojo says, bemused “It’d be a real issue for everyone if it turned out that way,” 

Gojo puts a hand on his shoulder, tightening his grip hard enough to hear him gasp. He’s weak, but that’s to be expected.

“So, I suggest you turn around and head home, hm? Since we wouldn’t want it to be a big fuss.” 

Gojo can see it now. With a little pressure, he could turn the blade of his shoulder in sawdust and watch him fall to his knees. He’d let out a cry, a sharp pathetic wail like a hit dog. Gojo would make him say sorry to you before he lets up his hand from his skin. He’d do it infront of everyone in the store so they could hold a little fear in their hearts. 

He won’t do it. Just for now. If it complicates your work then you wouldn’t be able to support yourself. What would he do if you ended up somewhere far away? Out of his sight, something like this could happen again and Gojo wouldn’t be able to take care of you. 

So he doesn’t crush it. He pushes his palms into his shoulder blades and whispers quietly, just so the two of them hear. He pulls away and watches as his face goes pale, a simple stutter leaving his lips. Something about how he’ll see you later and that somethings come up before he turns around and leaves.

Gojo watches as he does. The door chimes again, and the man disappears. The patrons who might’ve glanced turn away again like it was just a simple altercation, which is good. Then finally, Gojo looks at you where you are. Your hands are trembling so hard, a shake of relief in your shoulders as you cover your face. You look like you’re getting ready to cry, so Gojo takes it into his own hands. He cleans up all the food, wipes the table, and even grabs your jacket and bag as you take a minute to collect yourself. 

He taps your shoulder lightly afterwards, waiting for you to look up. Once you do he smiles, reaches a hand out to you so you don’t have to think twice. 

“About time to get out of here, huh?” 

You nod, so slowly. You look so relieved, even as you sniffle. Your hand is so small compared to his. He squeezes it protectively as you slide it into his own, and helps you walk out of the store together. 

The air is cold, the same as before, the temperature having warmed just a bit. The bell above the door rings as the two of you finally leave, standing in the street. Unlike before though, there’s something bitter in the air. The sun has hidden itself completely in the clouds and the streets feel emptier, lifeless. 

Gojo turns to you with a somber expression, trying to smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Do you want to go somewhere to talk about it, maybe?” 

You chew your lower lip then sigh “...Yeah. Probably should, huh?” 

You and Gojo decide on a place not too far from where you are. It’s a small park, a good place to end off an otherwise good day. 

You have to take the bus to get there, but there’s not many people. Gojo eventually gives you back your things, lets you slide your jacket on and fix your face - but ultimately takes your hand and holds it on the ride there. He brings it to his lap and you don’t pull away even though you seem to fidget the whole time. 

The bus finally stops in front of the park. It takes hardly any time, but Gojo finds he’s unable to let go of your hand so he doesn’t. Instead, he holds tight and lets you trail behind. You let him lead you quietly out back in the street. You give your thanks to the driver as the doors close. 

He can’t let go of your hand, though he knows now would’ve been a good time to do it. His grip only grows tighter. 

“Let's go find somewhere to sit,” He offers. You squeeze his hand this time and don’t look away. 

“Okay,” 

He tries to keep pace with you this time, instead of walking ahead. Your strides are shorter than his so he’s careful that you don’t fall behind. Your eyes still have that watery look to them but you’re no longer trembling from fear. Just the cold, if anything. 

And your heartbeat no longer sounds so hazardous. Gojo is still restless, still fidgety. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin but it’s not really for you. 

You find a bench, eventually - in the middle of the long walk-way just a distance away from a playground. Gojo juts his chin out towards it, before turning over to look at you.

“Let’s go sit,” 

You nod as you walk together towards it. You sit first, and Gojo finally lets go of you. He sits besides you. There’s a minute where the whole world is deathly quiet. There should be something calm about it, but it isn’t. You’re no longer terrified, and a distance away. There’s no danger lurking in the dark and there’s no cars passing or children crying. 

Everything is calm and silent, but Gojo couldn’t feel more unease if he tried. He thinks he hides it well. But there’s that itch again, in a place behind his ribs he can’t reach into and he finds it hard to breathe. 

“So,” He starts, breaking the tension “I’m guessing it’s not a friend,” 

The stupid joke makes a smile appear on your lips. It’s small, but Gojo takes some comfort in it anyway. You wipe away your lower lash gently, a wet laugh leaving your mouth. 

“No, not a friend. He’s uhm… a parent from my school.” 

“The one who’s been bothering you for all these weeks?” Gojo supplies. You turn your head, eyes widened in surprise. Gojo lets out a breathy laugh. 

“You….knew?” 

“Not about him specifically, but I could tell something was bothering you,” He admits, and then adds “I always pay attention to my favorite person, you know?” 

The addition has you looking away, but Gojo doesn’t mind. You sigh, rubbing your face with your palms before leaning back against the bench with your head hanging off the edge. 

“He’s the parent of one of my students. Akio, he’s a good kid. A really well-behaved one but… too well-behaved. Never raises his hand, never complains or says he won’t do something.” 

“I’m guessing that sent off an alarm bell, huh?” 

You nod softly. 

“Yeah. I figure it was something at home, but I’d met his mom prior and she was a real angel. Then, his dad came to visit. The man we met at the store, and I knew right away.” 

Gojo feels his jaw clench listening to you talk. 

“But still, you know, my job as a teacher is to be as respectful as I can. I always politely declined him when he would make comments and remained professional. Eventually, his mom stopped coming altogether and—I tried, I really—but he…” You trail off, a lump in your throat. He watches as tears form in your eyes, his anger getting more and more tangible. He tries not to express it, putting a hand on your knee “He just… kept pushing. A-and once, he looked like he was gonna get violent. I made a report, you know, to the school. But you know how they are,” 

“They never even bothered investigating huh,” Gojo sneers. You laugh a tired sort of laugh. 

“Of course not. After that, I just tried to endure it. And I know he hasn’t done anything technically, but it doesn’t really feel like a matter of if but when,” You explain haphazardly.  Gojo squeezes where his hand rests. 

“I believe you. It’s okay,” He says as soothingly as he possibly can “It’s okay. I’m here,” 

There’s a sense of relief that washes over your whole body and before he knows it, you’re breaking down. He feels a lot of emotions all at the same time, watching your little frame as you lose it so easily in front of him. A part of him is so furious he wants to make it everyone's problem. Another part of him is so deeply sad knowing you’ve suffered all on your own. 

And the most notable part of him is the sense of protectiveness, burrowing inside of him. A sense of possession. It sinks into him like teeth, seeps into his blood like the venom of an animal so that he bleeds and breathes it. Gojo can’t shake that deep sense of urgency, a nameless and faceless desire that consumes him. He shudders.. He holds it in, all of it. Cups his hands so desperately so that it doesn’t spill over and touch you, the ink of ruining the soft white of your clothes. 

In a world that you have made beautiful, desire is ugly. Hideous and infectious, it tears Gojo limb from limb. It makes Gojo feel on edge. Gojo should not desire for any more than what he was. People always die when he does. 

But maybe they don’t have to. Maybe, he can protect you. He can keep you safe. He wants to keep you safe. He wants to keep you all to himself.

It’s in an effort to soothe those feelings that his arms find themselves around your form. It’s the first time you’ve hugged in such an intimate way. Where expects you to turn away - you don’t. 

Instead you cling, your arms around his jacket and your face in his chest. You cry and weep and sob and you look so small like that. You look like you’ll collapse and Gojo holds you. Says it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay as you let it all out. It must feel good to finally let it all out, after everything and he doesn’t intend to stop you. 

“I promise I’ll always protect you from now on,” And he says it, and means it. If you feel the weight of his statement, you don’t let it show “It’s okay. You can cry if you need too,” 

You cry and cry and cry. 

And Gojo thinks the call of heaven is nothing in comparison to the sound. 

__

In the end, Gojo can’t forgive him. 

It’s not without effort. He tries to do it at your request, because after all the tears he wants to help. He says he can maybe pull some strings. But that gentle heart you have declines. You don’t want it to become a big deal. You feel a little better knowing he knows. In the end, you don’t want it to affect that brats reputation. 

“You know how kids can be,” You say, voice full of concern for everyone but yourself “I don’t want to make school life anymore difficult than his life at home must be,” 

So, Gojo tries to listen to you. But days pass, and days turn into weeks. In the end, a month goes by and Gojo is full of terrible and divine anger. 

In the end, Gojo won’t forgive him. Gojo can’t let it go. He feels so righteous in it, he starts avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. There’s something inside of them he has no desire to look at. Eyes that tell all, Gojo turns away from their gaze. Gojo is angry for you, and it’s not in his character to do nothing about it. 

He decides on less of a whim that it looks. He wonders about alternatives, if there’s anything that can stop this feeling from imploding inside of him but nothing comes.

When he decides that nothing can be done, Gojo goes out of his way to start watching him. 

Like any mission, he needs enough background information to map out a plan.  He wants to make sure that it has virtually no pushback for you. There’s always a possibility you’ll get caught in the crossfire and that’d be the worst possible outcome. Gojo can protect you from a lot of things, but he’s not as confident about the law. 

(Not that he can’t. Just not in the good, right way he’s sure you want him to protect you in. Gojo’s love is divine, not right. There’s nothing in this world Gojo can’t shield you from, because he’s the strongest.)

 He also can’t make anything obvious or leave any room for interpretation. If there’s anything that feels off when the reports go live - you’ll stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. He thinks in the instance you find out (about all of it, the premeditation  especially) you’d probably tuck your tail and run. 

(Gojo would find you. But the chase means there’s some time you’re apart. The thought is almost nauseating.) 

He likes that you’re curious about everything. In most instances anyways. But he thinks it’s better to leave you in the dark sometimes. Having you worry about it would ruin the point of this. And sometimes, it’s better not knowing every detail. Honeytraps are more ethical than nets. 

He’s doing it for you in the end, like he does most things. And the kid will benefit, maybe even get some sympathy from his classmates for a while about the tragedy that befell his father. Gojo thinks it’s a good plan because no one loses.  It’s a lot like killing a curse. 

It only takes two weeks to learn virtually everything there is to know. A guy like that doesn’t have much he can hide. 

The name of his target, he learns, is Nobu Watanabe. Father to Akio Watanbe and ex-husband to Akiko Watanbe. He’s a recently released felon (let off on good behavior) with a battery and assault with a deadly weapon charge. He’s a college drop-out, and has been working a lot of odd-jobs since he was 16.

His personality is bad, worse is his drinking and smoking habits. He’s often found drunk in the street, and has a track record for single nights spent in a cell. His ex-wife is usually the one bailing him out. Gojo can’t help but feel sorry for her. Somehow, he doubts that he’s good to her. He’s a deadbeat father through and through. He only offers to pick up his kid to harass you. At least from what he can tell. 

He isn’t as awful to his kid as everyone else. Gojo doubts that was always the case. Akio isn’t a bad kid, but it’s hard not to notice the way the light in his eyes disappears when his father comes around to pick him up. A head always looking towards the floor, hands tucked in his pockets. 

It’s difficult for Gojo to feel any guilt about what he’s doing. After everything, he can’t find it in himself to feel any regret. 

His target is currently working at a dock, not too far from the city. He seems to work there most days, working at a bar on the weekends. It’s a big company that handles foreign goods that he does physical labor for. Lifting and moving boxings, checking inventory - it’s not a complicated affair. 

If there’s not a major shipment, he still seems to clock in so he’s definitely paid some kind of hourly wage. He smokes often on the job, but works diligently when there is something to do. An easy but physical job, he’s strong. Gojo can understand what intimidates you about him. 

Gojo, though, isn’t intimidated by him at all. 

He waits a week before he takes action. To shake off anyone or anything that might be trailing him, and to make sure that everything is the same as he observed. That his schedule wasn’t going to change. A week passes, and when Gojo has confirmation - he decides to do what he does best. 

Gojo Satoru decides to play God on a Sunday.

Sunday is a day shipments come in and a day he often works alone. The pay is better on Sunday and Nobu is the only one on his shift who takes it. He’s not expected to finish the strenuous work because he’s alone for such a long stretch of time - just to make a dent in it. The people at the next shift are the ones who finish the job. 

He starts his day as early as 6am. It’s near winter, so the world is painted in a miraculously melancholy blue. Gojo follows him that morning. He knows the route well enough to trail behind him and not attract any attention. They pass together, turning corners and taking bus rides until Nobu’s finally in at his job. 

There, they part briefly. His target goes into the big white building and he goes on top. Gojo has to teleport to the roof because everything is gated with security cameras covering every inch of the property. Following him puts Gojo at risk. So he waits on top of the building, hands in his pocket and pacing until Nobu comes out the otherside to the docks. His jumpsuit put on haphazardly, only half-pulled up to his waist, with a clipboard and pen as a bunch of boxes waiting for him to check them. 

After Gojo confirms that he’s alone, he lies in wait. He sits and waits - watching as the clouds pass. Watching the open sea, how it remains unchanging no matter what boats pass through to shore. He looks at his phone every now and again to check the time. 

It shouldn’t be too difficult to actually do it. 

You know, if Gojo turns his infinity on, there’s nothing in the world that can touch him. He can touch it, but it can’t touch him. There will always be a barrier between his hands and the world. Between him and the known universe, a bridge that started burning the minute Gojo was born into it. If Gojo turns on his infinity, there’s no way to leave traces of him behind. 

Did you know? If Gojo turns on his infinity, his fingerprints don’t show up. There’s no DNA to find. Not a trace of him in the world that he hasn’t left purposefully. Even if Gojo chokes him with his hands bare hands - he wouldn’t be touching him. But Gojo can feel it. Feel his pulse, feel his breathing come down slowly.

If there’s such a thing as heaven or hell, Gojo wants to ask God about being homicidal. If it was a flaw of human design or their Lord reflected inside of them. 

He lies in wait on top of the roof until 7. 

When 7 hits, the world around him is still so dark. No one kills in broad daylight. The heavens are murky, sky full of black clouds like puffs of smoke. It’s freezing cold, a spine-tingling chill making its way up Gojo’s skin and hardening his hands. . Gojo waits for the doors of the garage to creak open. When the sound echoes into the air, a metal screech in the void, Gojo stands to his feet. 

He jumps to the ground, landing with a dull thud. He comes out unscathed, a cat on his feet. He dusts off the front of his pants. Nobu hasn’t taken notice of him. Gojo takes a look around them. There’s no cameras in the warehouse. Gojo waits alone in the dark. 

Five minutes. It’s five minutes when all of the lights go out. 

“What the fuck?” Nobu mumbles, dropping his clipboard on top of a bunch of boxes, running a hand through his hair. Gojo waits in silence, watches as he turns around. 

When he finally does, he jumps back in shock. Gojo feels a cold chill run through his body. 

“What the fuck? Who the hell are you?” Nobu asks. Gojo grins. 

“Ah, you don’t remember? We met a few weeks ago! We had a nice little exchange and everything.” He says, voice going higher by an octave. The man in front of him stares, off put by Gojos’ presence. He stumbles in his thinking, his body tensing up. 

“Who the…what the fuck is going on?” 

“Hey, don’t be so scared,” Gojo says, then uses his teleport to phase himself closer. Nobu’s eyes widen, shocked. Scared out of his wits, with the story of heartbeat like he’s being hunted. “Tough guy like you has nothing to be scared of, does he?” 

“W-w-what…how did you…” 

Gojo shakes his head. 

“Don’t worry about it, man.” He says, voice calm and smooth and even. He’s surprised by how his emotions feel in his body. Like he’s so angry that he’s not. There’s something inside of him, the white waters that wade, that Gojo can feel. It’s strange “We’ve got about 5 minutes till the lights come back on.” 

For a while, they stand at a draw. No one moves. Not him, or Nobu, or the open oceans. It’s quiet for a dock. Even quieter for a dock in Tokyo, and Gojo’s not even using his abilities. He probably won’t need too, other than infinity - there’s not any good reason for him to exert himself any more than he must. 

Weeks of planning, weeks of watching, weeks of waiting. Nothing feels like it matters at the moment. He wants it to be over soon-ish. 

It’s not that Gojo is particularly sadistic. 

It’s just that, everything feels like it’s teetering over this very moment. He thinks it to himself quietly like someone trying to remember where they last left their keys. 

Briefly, Gojo thinks “I can’t go back,” after this. In the back of his head he just knows.

He envies this aggravating strangers' ignorance, too. 

“What do you want from me?” He says, stuttering - a gasping breath of fear in his lungs that snaps Gojo out of his thoughts. Gojo shrugs. 

“Nothing, really. I’m not short on money, you know? I make a good living,” He says, spouting off about nothing as he closes the gap between them. Stepping closer infinitely until Gojo backs him into the garage, into the tall tower of boxers where there’s no cameras and no witnesses “Hm…is there anything you can do to fix this?” 

No, Gojo answers mostly to himself, But wouldn’t that be nice? 

“P-please, I have—” 

“A son right? And an ex-wife, and a dead mom in Saitama. You didn’t think I came here without doing any research, did you? We’re the same in that way you know, I might be a frivolous - but hell if I’m not diligent,” 

He looks like he’s going to throw up. Gojo remains indifferent. 

“Who are you?” He asks, this time really wondering. With that hoarse voice of curiosity, of defeat.

Gojo hums.

“Good question. Who do you think I am?” Gojo poses and lifts his hands up. He puts them around his neck, pushing hard until his back is against the stack of boxes. It’s dark but Gojo can see everything. He keeps his open, tightening the grip of his hands slowly. 

Nobu tries to spit something out but the words get sputtered, muffled by lack of oxygen. 

“Do you think I’m a devil? An angel? God? I wonder,” Gojo says, staring. With his mask on, but his eyes opened wide. “Guess I’m kind of like a boogeyman,” 

Gojo can feel it. His body underneath his palms, gasping and struggling for air. He can feel his hands try to pry his hands off. He can feel his body slowly start to lose its air, how he deflates like a balloon. Gojo is unmoving, unfazed, unworried. He’s near motionless except the hard grip of his hand on his neck and the pulse that slows gently under his palms. 

It takes 5 minutes, maybe less, with all the strength in both his hands. Gojo isn’t counting. He holds on for maybe 2 minutes after that, just to make sure it’s not a fluke. He waits till the heart stops sounding in his ears and until the body is completely limp except for where Gojo is holding him away. He goes out sad. Useless, even. 

When Gojo stops, Nobu’s body drops to the floor with a dull thud. He stares at it for a while, then sighs. It’d be nice if he could just leave it there, but he does his due diligence. Picks it up from the ground with relative ease, over his shoulders. 

He walks it out towards the dock - the very edge, before tossing it in water and watching it sink. When it disappears from his sight, Gojo is left with his reflection in the deep blue. He meets his eyes for the first time in weeks, and knows he’s seeing exactly what he thought he would. 

His anger has settled, just barely. Just enough to be able to see the change in his own vision. With his Six Eyes, Gojo can see that there’s no turning back.

 With his mask on, he looks at himself, warped in the vision of the sea. The vision of him—crystalline and white and blue—murky and moving. 

Gojo jumps to the roof and turns the light on again. The power comes back. 

A dog barks distantly, over and over and over. Gojo watches the sun rise alone. 

__

The following weeks pass without a hitch. Gojo feels like nothing has changed. 

(But that’s not true. Everything is different. The same but different)

At the two week mark, winter has set in and Gojo is spending time with you in your apartment together. Currently, you’re cooking dinner (after carefully instructing Gojo to stay put in the living room.) Gojo is sitting watching T.V. He’s helping you grade papers at the coffee table, humming to himself. 

It’s about 7 when the news starts to play. A local news channel and a familiar face on the T.V. Gojo is surprised when the breaking news report airs. 

“Two weeks ago, a missing persons report was filed for ex-convict Nobu Watanbe. Sources say he was last seen working at a Dock in Tokyo - which experienced a power outage. It’s reported that Nobu seemed to have gone missing at the time, and hasn’t made contact with anyone since then. Could this be the work of a…” 

The rest of the report  Gojo tunes out. He turns his head slightly to see if you’ve noticed. Your eyes are glued to it., standing and staring silently. You place your spatula on a towel on the counter.

“We got word about a week prior to this,” You say, breaking the silence after some time without Gojo prompting. He looks at you “Akio started coming with his mom again and she gave me the story. It wasn’t unusual for him to up and disappear, but he hadn’t done so since Akio was born,” 

“That so?” Gojo says, nonplussed. You nod. 

“I feel guilty but,” You trail off, rubbing your arm anxiously “I can’t help but be… relieved. Just a little. I don’t want the guy to be dead or anything, but it,” 

Gojo stops you in the middle of your sentence. 

“You don’t have anything you need to feel guilty about,” He corrects, voice stern. You give him a sad look but he remains firm in his stance “He was harassing you for weeks. It’s only natural that you feel relieved, you know?” 

You’re not entirely content with the response, but you seem to know well enough this isn’t something Gojo will compromise on. You sigh, looking down at the floor. 

“Yeah. That’s true I guess, but still. I wonder what happened to him, or if he just decided to run away,” 

Gojo pretends to think about it. 

“Maybe. Otherwise…guess it was God’s divine punishment,” He says, continuing to grade papers. He doesn’t even look up as he says it. You let out a puff of air through your nose in amusement . 

“Yeah,” You say, “Maybe. I should thank him some time,”

Gojo hums.

“I don’t think that’s a bad idea,” 

Naruto has done more for our culture as a whole than the Beatles ever have.

Not Just Anybody | baby daddy!sukuna x f!reader

summary: after finding out you were going on a date with someone new right after his relationship ended, sukuna's left wondering just how bad his luck could get.

genre/warnings: hidden child trope, ex-fwb to co-parents to lovers, horrible communication, angst, fluff, smut (piv sex, rough sex, hate sex, sukuna getting overstimulated and biting his knuckles, thigh fucking, full nelson, cowgirl, backshots, mating press)

notes: hellerrrrr this is like 7.2k words I think? I also wrote a mini summary at the end of this chapter, feel free to check it out!

*******also poorly proof read, excuse any typos and don't be afraid to lmk of any mistakes I've made, I stayed up until 3 am writing this lol. anyways, enjoy!

part five | part six | part seven

“How are you feeling tod–” 

“Like shit,” Sukuna cuts the therapist off. 

Kento’s not even fazed by it, he already knew there was going to be a lot to unpack just by the look on Sukuna’s face when he walked into his office. He didn’t even say hello or good morning to him— just shot him a glare that was followed by a low sigh, then plopped down on to seat. 

Now he’s pouting as he waits for the next question, his arms also have yet to uncross. 

What a change from their first session. In the beginning he was leaning forward in his seat, looking like he was ready to maul the professional, and now he’s slumped back in his seat wanting Kento to ask him what was wrong. 

“I can tell,” Kento says, holding back a sigh. Not that he was frustrated or anything, he just knows his life has the tendency to randomly take a turn for the worst. He also knows that Sukuna himself can randomly take a turn for the worst due to the fact that luck's never really been on the guy's side. “Close your eyes and take a deep breath for a moment.”

“For what?” Sukuna stubbornly asks. 

“Just— trust me, okay? Close your eyes and take a deep breath,” he instructs him again. 

Without much of a fight, Sukuna follows along. Not like it’d make his week any worse. 

“Alright, good. Now tell me, what's the first thing that comes to mind?” Kento asks after he takes a couple more deep breaths. 

—

“A date?” 

It wasn’t even a question at this point, just one completely unbelievable statement. Not that you getting dates was unbelievable, it was how much life continued to fuck him in the ass. 

“Yeah, can you watch her on Saturday or not?” you ask again. “Sorry that it’s so last minute, I figured it’d be fine since you usually like to have your date nights with Yorozu on Fridays.” There was zero bite in your tone, you weren’t even looking at him when repeating yourself. 

A part of him wanted to spiral from how normal you are about it all, how fast you moved on. Meanwhile, he’s stuck in the past, like always. It’s almost as hurtful as it is embarrassing— all the nights he’s spent just wishing he could have a do-over with you, wishing you felt the same as him. 

“We broke up.” That’s all he has to offer at the moment, that’s what he was planning on talking to you about anyways on the drive here. 

“Wait, what?” you finally turn around and ask. He actually does seem a little sad the longer you look up at him, understandably so. If only you knew that’s not what he was actually bummed out about. “What happened?”

“She uhh– cheated on me,” he mumbles back before opening your fridge. The bottle of beer looks quite enticing, but it’s not even noon yet, so instead he reaches for the redbull. 

Your face immediately drops from a mixture of shock and pity. If Sayomi weren’t babbling on the other side of kitchen island, it’d be dead silent right now. To be completely honest, the last thing he wants or needs from you is pity.

...Unless if it were enough for to drop your fucking date, but he highly doubts that’ll ever happen. 

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” he says in response, closing the fridge door a little too hard and cracking the can open in a way that sprinkled a few droplets of liquid on his hand. 

“It’s not whatever, you didn’t deserve that,” you correct him, trying to feed him the whole "everyone deserves love" spiel.

How cute.

He actually did deserve it though. He basically dropped her the moment you and Sayomi came into his life. The slap however? Debatable. 

He was right to be pissed about the possibility of her giving him something, but whatever.

“No seriously,” he says, holding a hand out in an attempt to stop you from feeling even more sorry for him. The way you think he's trying to hide his true feelings right now disturbs him in ways he couldn't even explain. “It’s fine, the relationship was on its last leg anyway.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s just– she would’ve backed out eventually,” he sighs, reflecting on all the fights they had. “I was busy enough as is, I didn’t like the idea of splitting my time between her and Yomi anyways. She’s my main priority right now.” 

“I see,” you say, handing him a napkin to wipe his hand off. His reason was pretty similar to yours when justifying Suguru ends things with you. “Well, if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.” 

“Yeah, ditch your date” he all but mumbles to himself. 

“What’d you say?” you turn around and ask.

“Nothing,” he says, thankful you didn’t actually hear him. “When did you need me to watch her?”

“At 7, I’ll probably be back around 9 or 10. I don’t really plan on being out for too long.”

Good. 

“Who’s this date of yours?” he asks, lacing his voice with curiosity to sound more innocent. It actually shows how good he is at hiding his emotions if he actually tried, because he’d be down to seriously murder someone right now. 

“His name's Toji,” you chirp out, still so blissfully unaware of the man's internal turmoil. 

And now that someone has a name, Toji.

“How’d you meet him?”

“At the business dinner I went to a few weeks ago. He’s one of the heads of the company that was interested in having me manage all their stuff.” 

“So he's old,” he cackles to himself. Doesn't matter how much money the guy makes, a man with a dick that doesn't work is a man of no use to you.

Is he ageist? Only when it comes to Toji, he just decided.

“He’s only 40, calm down,” you say in defense. 

He let out a low, condescending whistle. “Wasn’t trippin’ to begin with, sweetheart. Just didn’t think you were into older men like that.” 

"Okay," you cut him off before he could continue to make more snide remarks. "You sure about that? 'Cause you sound pretty annoyed right now."

"I'm good," he chuckles before pulling Sayomi out of her high chair. "Quit tryna make issues out of thin air."

“Whatever, Sukuna,” you shake your head and sigh. There was no point in continuing the conversation if he was just going to make fun of you for giving someone a little older a chance and then gaslight you over calling him out. “I’m gonna go upstairs and get started on work now. Just text me if you need anything, I have back to back meetings all afternoons.” 

“Didn’t ask, but okay.” He says rather rudely, before ignoring you completely.  

—

Kento almost wanted to ask if that was seriously all he was mad about, but reminded himself being in a bad mood over it made sense when it came to Sukuna's situation. It’s always hard watching someone move on before you. Maybe now it was time for them to start working on his attachment style. 

He wouldn't say that Sukuna's attached to the idea of you, he seems like he's fond of who you are now, but he feels like it might be something more complex.

He's spent so much of his life trying to run away from the pain of losing his parents at such a young age, and now that he technically has a little family unit of his own, it's like he thinks it'll get rid of those parts of him that've been permanently changed.

Kento would have to spend more time thinking about this before bringing it up. Sukuna seems so attached to the idea that maybe you two will end up together, he just wants to break the truth to him gently at this point. Yes, it might happen, but statistics have also shown it's highly unlikely. He can't tell himself that he's a guaranteed exception just because of how unique his circumstances are.

Not only that, it's just not healthy. He might be making progress in his career and fatherhood, but holding on to something like this will just continue to stunt his personal growth in romantic relationships. It already happened with his ex-girlfriend.

“So if I’m hearing this correctly.. You aren’t just mad at the fact that she went on a date. You’re also mad that she wasn’t nervous to talk to you about it?” Kento pauses him and asks. 

“Mhm,” Sukuna nods his head. 

That’s fucking toxic, but the therapist obviously wasn’t going to word it like that... and at least he was honest about it. He can appreciate that, especially since his clients try to lie to him all the time.

“But wouldn’t her being comfortable with talking to you about those things be a good thing?” he attempts to reframe his viewpoint.  

“I kinda like it more when she’s nervous to tell me things,” Sukuna admits. 

That’s where Kento decides to change the topic. 

He really doesn’t want to get into how pleased Sukuna becomes whenever someone stutters while speaking to him. That’s another problem to tackle on a different day.

“Were things between you two tense after that?” he asks instead. 

“Nope,” Sukuna pops the p. “Everything went back to normal after that… at least until Saturday.” 

Oh god, Kento internally groans before he begins to dissect what he could possibly mean by that. “And what happened on Saturday?”

Sukuna smirks, “a lot.” 

—

Toji was a lot of things— handsome, successful, but most importantly, a father. His son’s around the same age as Yuuji and despite his busy schedule in the finance world, he seems to bend it as much as he could in order to spend more time with Megumi. 

You have higher hopes for this one than the last, being single parents was something you could actually bond over. 

“So why did you and your daughter’s father separate?” he asks, figuring it was okay since you did ask him about Megumi’s mother first. Not that you meant to, it was one of those questions you were inevitably led to with the direction the conversation was taking.

You were also three glasses of wine in. 

And now you wish you could hit the rewind button because you were not ready to unpack that yet. 

“It’s complicated,” you let out a little laugh before taking another sip of wine. 

“I see how it is,” he clicks his tongue and chuckles. “Guess I’ll save that question for the third or fourth date then.”

“And who said there was going to be a second one?” you begin to tease the man ,who’s clearly too confident in himself to care. 

“Me,” he says shamelessly, before getting a little more serious. “I’d take you out anytime you want if it’s as fun as tonight. Only if you want, of course.” 

“I think I’d like that,” you smile at him. You swear on your life you wouldn’t be able to even hold a conversation with him sober. It wasn't that bad at the business dinner since you were with other people, talking about their company, and also drinking.

But fuck this is so much more different compared to a business dinner. You weren't even this nervous on your first date with Suguru, and you thought he was intense upon first impression. Toji's on a different level, he's insanely intimidating, but in a good way. If you didn’t have to go home tonight, you most likely would’ve jumped his bones already. 

Your conversation with him gets cut short though when Sukuna decides to call you after 5 missed texts. 

“Babysitter?” Toji asks. 

“Mhm.” You let out a frustrated sigh. Was it a lie? Who knows at this point, the last thing you wanted was for him to find out it was your baby daddy who’d been texting you these last 30 minutes and now calling. “Mind if I step out and take it?”

“Not at all,” He assures you. “Take all the time you need, doll.”

If only Sukuna was this patient. 

His call ended up getting sent to voicemail on your walk to the bathroom, because there was no fucking way you were going to run in this restaurant in this heels. Hell, you wouldn’t run ever, unless there was an emergency, which there clearly wasn’t given the last five texts he sent you. 

All of which were different variations of “are you okay” and “when will you be back”. 

He doesn’t even give you the chance to call him back, he goes straight to calling you again. 

“What?!” you pretty much whisper-yell at him the moment you step into the empty bathroom and answer.

“What do you mean ‘what’? It’s 11:00 and I’m just tryna see if you’re okay, don’t get a fuckin’ attitude with me,” he retorts. “You won’t even thumbs up one of my texts back, letting me know you're alive.”

“You are so dramatic sometimes,” you say as you begin to rub your temple. “Didn’t know I had to report back to you.”

“Didn’t know you’d be out past 10 either, yet here we are–" he begins to complain, but then cuts himself off. "You’re tipsy as fuck right now, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” 

“You’re so fuckin’ annoying sometimes,” he mumbles. 

“Yeah? So are you,” you argue back. 

He doesn’t care to argue right now, he’s too tired to do so. You can overhear him rummaging through your liquor cabinet and pouring himself a drink. 

“You comin’ back tonight or are you gonna spend the night at your boyfriend's house?” 

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Don’t care,” he cuts you off. “I just need to know if I’m watching Yomi overnight or not.”

“Of course I’m coming back,” you say defensively. “What makes you think I’d leave for the night without saying anything?”

“The fact that it’s past 10 and you keep ignoring my messages," he reminds you again. 

“I wasn’t ignoring them, you just didn’t give me the chance to answer them.”

“Lost track of time?”

“Yeah.” 

“You’re so full of shit when you get a couple drinks in you, but we’ll talk about that later when you come stumbling home.”

“I’m not gonna be stum–”

“Yes you are,” he flatly responds. “Hope you enjoy the rest of your night.”

His words before hanging up on you almost sounded like a threat. At this point you were more curious to see if he’d even follow through with whatever the hell he meant by them, because you know for a fact he doesn’t care if you have a good night with Toji or not. 

You're met with Toji’s little grin when you come back to the table. By the look on your face, he could already tell that the time for tonight was up. 

“Did I keep you out past curfew?” he cheekily asks. 

“You did,” you nod. “It’s my fault for losing track of time though. But yeah, it's time to call it a night.”

“I’ll take some of that blame,” he says before waving down a waiter and mouthing ‘check please’ to them. “You can tell the babysitter I wouldn’t shut up or something.”

“I probably should.” 

You definitely won’t, it’ll just give your “babysitter” more ammo to argue with you when you get back.

The ride back home was quiet. 

Toji offered to give you a ride back home, but you decided to uber home in an attempt to mentally prepare yourself for whatever reaction Sukuna had waiting for you at your house. 

Which didn’t help, the man was blasting classical music the entire ride back. 

Your heart rate slowly began to pick up once you got past the gates into the neighborhood and by the time the driver pulled up to your house, it was racing. 

It's moments like this where you wish Sukuna never came back into your life. Why did he have this much of an effect on you? He didn’t even say anything that bad on the phone and now here you are freaking out over seeing him. 

But of course, your Uber driver already had a new customer to pickup by the time he pulled up to your house. Can’t keep him waiting on you. 

You take a moment to fix your hair and your train of thought before opening the door to your home. You’d think he’d have something playing on the TV, but it’s eerily quiet right now. He’s obviously awake and still here downstairs though, you can hear a glass being set down on the counter. 

The silence makes it all the worse, but you push through whatever fear you had and announce yourself before stepping into his view. “Hey, I’m back.”

“No shit,” he's quick to respond.

“As grumpy as ever I see.” You try to lighten the mood and even force out a laugh that he’ll most likely see through. You turn the corner into the kitchen and see him sitting on one of the barstools, leaning over the counter with a drink in hand. 

He’s either been slowly sipping on it given how the phone call was over 30 minutes ago, or he poured himself up a new one while waiting for you. It was most likely the latter.

“How was Sayomi?”

“The usual— a perfect little angel,” he responds boredly. “The complete opposite of her mother.”

“C’mon, you can’t be that mad over me going out and having fun,” you say, throwing your arms out in defeat.

“That’s not it,” he lets out a low laugh that does not match his current expression. He's pissed and you can tell he's holding on to the last bit of his sanity. “We’ve had an entire conversation about communication whenever it comes to one of us watching Yomi and you throw it out the window the moment you go out.”

“I didn’t throw it out the window,” you argue back.

“Oh right, time got away from you, my fuckin’ bad,” he says mockingly.

“Fine– fuck– I’m sorry,” you immediately give in, not wanting to end your night with a full blown fight with the man. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal and kept telling myself the date would end soon anyways.”

“That date wouldn't have ended had I not fuckin’ called you,” he continues to argue with you.

“Yes it would’ve!” 

“I seriously doubt that.” He downs the rest of his drink in one go before pouring himself up another one. “You left here at 6:30, and now it’s what? 11:43?”

“Didn’t know I had a curfew,” you scoff. 

“You don’t,” his voice drops threateningly low as he looks you dead in the eye. “This was your first date with the guy. Don’t even try to fucking twist this right now, I’m allowed to wonder if you're okay and check in on you when you don’t answer.”

And that shuts you up for a second.

His therapy sessions have actually been working. The aggressive honesty and vulnerability was a shock to see at the very least, but it also made you lower your guard for the time being.

Maybe this was love in its most basic form for him, just needing to know you’re alright and safe— something you’d rather get scolded over at the end of the night, instead of the fights you’ve had in the past where you two hurled profanities and insults at each other. 

Not that he was in love with you, you wouldn’t even say it was anything close to the type of love he had for his daughter and nephew, it was probably something closer to Choso.

Maybe even Yuki if you had to be honest with yourself.

“You’re right, Sukuna,” you respond in a warmer tone this time.

They were words you never thought you’d catch yourself saying, but you had no problem saying them. You’re actually proud of him right now. He explained why he was mad at you without losing his patience and yelling at you at you for once— yes, he was kinda mean about it at first, but you weren’t expecting overnight results when he started therapy. He also made a good point by saying it was your first date with Toji.

“It was messed up that I didn’t consider that and I’m sorry. I promise I’ll respond to your text messages and keep you updated the next time I meet someone for the first time– no– whenever I’m out and you’re watching Yomi.”

You should’ve stopped at “I’m sorry”, he really didn’t want to hear or even think about you going on more dates, but he appreciated your words nonetheless. You said all the right things, he felt the sincerity in your voice. 

He feels validated.. or whatever word it was that Kento used.

This should be the end of it.

But it’s only been a couple months since he’s started and he cannot for the life of him get the thought of other men getting to enjoy you out of his head, he fucking hated it. He couldn’t even blame it on the scotch that he swirled around in his glass anymore, these were his true feelings.

This is the second man you’ve gone out with in the time he’s been back in your life. Truth be told, he's fucking over it, one was enough as is. 

“Surprised you’re not stumbling around right now.” He says, continuing to push your buttons while blatantly checking you out— the two things he’s best at. “And what’s your skirt all hiked up for? It didn’t look that short when you left.”

“I’ve been sitting in a restaurant all night, what the fuck did you think would happen to a silk skirt?” you spat back in annoyance. No good deed goes unpunished with this one apparently, reminding you once again that Sukuna is an asshole in his most basic, purest form.

He bursts out laughing at that, you sounded like such a brat right now to him, even though he’s done way worse to you. 

“Hell if I know, sweetheart," he says after his own laughter goes down. "But since you're asking and I'm practicing on my honesty here, I thought you let him fuck you in the bathroom stall or something.” He takes one more good look at the skirt before picking up his glass again and taking a generous sip out of it.

The slight creases around your hips actually did look like you'd been sitting down for around 4 hours though. Maybe you shouldn't be at one for that long if you didn't want him picking on you for it.

You end up grimacing at his response. “You’re so fucking disgusting sometimes.” 

“You used to like that about me,” he softly says then chuckles. 

“Well things change.” You murmur back, trying to ignore the certain sadness in his voice when the words left his lips. It left you unsure of what to even say at this point as you pathetically kick your heel back and forth. 

“No need to remind me,” he sighs. "You've made that very clear."

You used to like me too, is what he had actually wanted to respond with, but what was the point in that? 

He wasn’t exactly sure of what his intentions were right now, but guilting tripping you definitely wasn’t one of them. 

Would it be weird if he suddenly told you how beautiful you looked tonight, or would that throw you off too much? 

He tried to earlier before you left, but you were in too much of a rush to talk about anything other than what time you’d be back. There’s not even a point in giving him instructions for the night with Yomi anymore. You said it yourself, he’s the best dad to Sayomi, maybe even the better parent out of you two at this point. 

A well deserved compliment for him and an insult to yourself— him and Kento agreed that was just your guilt starting to surface. You and him will always have your own roles as Yomi’s parents, there couldn’t be a better parent in his eyes.

Even if there was, he wouldn’t want to take that spot, his job is to take the fall when it comes to you two.

He really should give you that compliment, but it’s hard when it’s not for him that you got dressed up for. So the words get washed off the tip of his tongue by the drink that made it easier for him to admit he was worried about you— call him selfish, he calls himself balanced. It’s up to others to decide which one he was.

“So did you let him?” He asks instead. 

“Let him what?”

“Fuck you,” he says simply, like it was the most normal thing in the world to ask your ex, who isn't really your ex. “Did you let him fuck you?”

“Of course I didn’t!” you suddenly raise your voice from how much he’s testing your patience right now. “Are you sure it’s not you who’s drunk right now? These questions are insane.”

“Definitely not drunk,” he smirks. “You sound way too defensive to be telling the truth right now though.” 

“I’m not fucking lying,” you snap at him

“Okay,” he chirps out, clearly pleased with the reaction he got out of you. “Whatever you say, princess.”

“And can you stop with the pet names?” you nearly hiss at him as you go to grab a water bottle from the fridge. 

“Why? Don’t tell me you got yourself an insecure boyfriend that gets mad about that shit like that.”

Oh to be driven to the point where you finally break and throw your head back in laughter. Those first couple of seconds are euphoric, you're convinced nothings better than that short burst of energy you get after realizing you didn’t have to be the bigger person, not when it comes to the man that eventually finds himself right in front of you. 

You don’t even remember what exactly you said that made him snap too. Something about being bitter that he got cheated on, nothing worse than what he’s said to you in the past. 

“At least I’m not the one that’s constantly on the hunt to find someone, tryna find Sayomi a stepdad ‘n shit,” he says with the biggest grin. 

He’s enjoying this.

It’s something you don’t catch on to, so you end up shoving him in the heat of the moment. 

“So now you’re calling me whore?! Is that it?!” 

“Just saying you move on fast, that’s all,” he retorts. “Can’t deny it either, you fuckin’ dipped on me like I was nothing.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sukuna! Here I was thinking we were actually getting somewhere but you constantly make it clear that you’re never going to let that go!” you take a step forward as you yell over him. “What’s the fucking point in trying to include me in the time you spend with Sayomi if you clearly fucking hate me for making the choice I made?!” 

“I don’t fucking hate you and that’s the problem!” he yells back before aggressively rubbing his face.

Deep breaths.

Like what Kento said.

Just take a deep breath.

…

Fuck it.

“I fucking loved you, and it's my fault for not telling you back then, but it doesn’t change the fact that I did. And– fuck!– I still do," he reveals, throwing his arms out in pure frustration. "I would’ve stayed with you, I would’ve gone to every single doctor's appointment with you, I would’ve held your fucking hand during the delivery— we would’ve been a fucking family!” 

“I know! I fucking know,” your voice slightly cracks. It's not even from the sadness, you just hate hearing about what could’ve been. That, and that you were so wrong about him. You’ll spend the rest of your life eating your own words, regretting that you sabotaged your own happiness for nearly two years. “You think I don’t realize that whenever I see you two together?”

“How the fuck would I know that when you're going out and trying to find someone else to have a fresh start with?” he asks, slowly coming down from his own rage. The raspiness of his voice will the proof of it all by tomorrow. 

It was wrong, getting mad at you for dating when he had a girlfriend this entire time up until a week ago. He tells himself it's different, that he was already in a relationship to begin with, but he can’t keep telling himself that. 

It was wrong. 

Changing the narrative, changing everything around him as much as he could for his own comfort. Lying to himself in order to make reality easier to swallow. It didn't work when his parents passed away during his first year of college, why would it work now?

Sometimes he hates how he's not that kid with a fresh wound anymore. He had the time and resources to grow from it, to become someone that didn't let grief ruin them. Now he's just an asshole.

It's exhausting, spending all of his adulthood going through the motions. The only times he feels alive is when he's fighting, fucking, or winning a game.

Thrill seeking, adrenaline chasing— will it ever be enough? No.

It’s why he’s crashing his lips into yours.

Which is also wrong, but he doesn’t care. 

He’s an asshole, and he knows you like him like this with the way you're kissing him back with the same fervor. The way you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you erases whatever guilt he felt tonight.

You can taste the scotch on him, something about it makes you wish you spent the night with him and Yomi instead. He spent this entire time waiting for you to get back home safe, ready to explain what his problem was.

And now he’s turning you around and bending you over the marble counter.

What are you even doing with your life at this point?

You don't know anymore, your skirts bunched up at your waist and he just ripped your lace thong off like it was nothing. 

“Fuck.” He's running his tip through your folds. “Just admit you miss me already.”

Your eyes continue to glaze over more and more everytime he grazes against your clit— teasing you, dragging the moment out until you finally admit it. 

He grabs your jaw and pulls you back to murmur in your ear, “you’re fuckin’ soaked right now. Don’t be stubborn and say you want me already, babe.” 

You still don't say anything, because yeah, you kind of are stubborn. Instead you move your hips back, thinking that’d do it, but instead his dick slips in between your thighs which earns a low, pleased groan out of him. 

“Or we could do this,” he chuckles. He starts to move back and forth while slowly peppering kisses down your neck. “Could just fuck your thighs until you beg me to put it in.” 

“You’re an asshole,” You snap at him in frustration, feeling his thick cock glide past where you want him the most. “God why do you have to make everything so difficult?” 

“Says the one who could've been stuffed full by now,” he taunts you, letting out a couple breathy moans. You already know he’d be just fine like this, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked your thighs. “It's easy, princess. Only gotta say three words– holy fuck you’re soaked– are you seriously gonna let your own pride keep you from having some fun?” 

"It's you that's doing that, not me."

"Nothing wrong with wanting some validation," he murmurs against your skin, you can feel him smiling against your neck as he says it. "I used to fuck you so good, used to make you cum so hard and so much too. Let me do it again."

“Fine,” you whine. “I miss you, are you happy now?” 

He says nothing in return and instead fully sheathes all 10 inches inside of you in one go. The sudden intrusion makes you nearly scream and gasp for air and he just covers your mouth while he begins driving his dick into you with the same precision that made you so weak for him in the first place. 

It was mean, brutal even, and it made you see stars.

“Keep it down,” he murmurs in your ear. “I’ll actually fuckin’ lose it if she wakes up from this.” 

You two were lucky Yomi didn't wake up while yelling at each other. The last thing he needed was her waking up when you two were... making up.

The sounds of skin slapping and his belt buckle clanking steadily become louder. He didn't even bother taking his clothes off for this, it's not like they got in the way.

"So fuckin' tight," he groans, continuing to pound his way into you. You struggle to keep your balance with the heels on, but you stay strong knowing he couldn't bend you over and fuck you so easily without them on. "Takin' me soo good too, princess— always took me like a pro. M’gonna make you watch yourself like this a little later."

"Hm?!" It's barely a question and it's laced with slight panic. His hand's his still over your mouth and it's the only response you could come out with that wasn’t a muffled moan.

"Hm?" He mocks you, then laughs immediately after, like a fucking asshole.

Sukuna doesn't even bother to elaborate on it, nor do you think too much into it, at this point you were too focused taking each and every inch he gave to you. His was insanely thick too, completely filling you up and stretching you to your limit.

He shouldn’t even be able to fit, yet he did and was always able to pull an orgasm out of you faster than you could if you were by yourself. 

Right now's no different, he works it out of you. Finding the spot that makes your legs shake and walls tighten around him, then hitting it over and over again until you're crying out his name. Just when you think you think you can't take it anymore, he takes his hand off your mouth, and shoves two fingers inside of your mouth.

You didn't know what to think of it, but you quickly lose your ability to think when he starts fucking you and rubbing your clit with those same two fingers at almost the same speed.

The sight must've been obscene.

Squeezing your eyes shut, one hand covering your own mouth while the other holds on to the counter, trying to keep your balance because the father of your child's only goal at the moment is to make you cum so hard that you pass out. He wants to fuck you into a coma. You're sure of it.

Not to mention all the things he's saying to you, going back and forth between different variations of "shut the fuck up" and "fuck— fuck yes, baby— just let go ‘n fuckin’ cum for me already”.

Every single one went straight to your core and after one particularly harsh thrust, your ears ring and eyes blur while you begin to fucking gush all over him.

“Good fuckin’ girl— that’s it baby just let go for me,” he says through his low, raspy moans, slowing down while he fucks you through it. "Fuck, fuuck— that's it baby, so' messy too, so fuckin' sexy cumming all over my cock like this.”

It takes a moment for you to come back to your senses, especially with how he shot all 5 of yours out of place. But the sound of his jeans zipping up eventually pull you out of your daze— pushing yourself the counter, bracing yourself for whatever came next.

“What the fuck,” you say as you try to catch your breath. You were trying so hard to come down from the high that you forgot he liked having you an overstimulated mess, the only reason why he stopped was so he could look at the absolute mess you made. "Were you trying to make me fucking pass out?"

Maybe.

“That was so fucking hot,” he murmurs to himself in amazement. This was the most he’s ever made you cum. It’s all over you, the floor, his jeans that he has yet to take off, but really needed to.

He doesn't even know he zipped them up to be honest. He didn't even get to finish, he decided to focus on you and it obviously paid off. But he’s a little needy right now, something you caught on to quick.

You two eventually end up in the guest room that’s the furthest away from your daughters, where you’re able to make as much noise as you want while Sukuna continues to fuck you with the same intensity as the first round, but this time with you folded up in a full nelson. 

He’s drilling into you— effortlessly snapping his hips up everytime he drops you down on to his length. He made sure you were facing the mirror so you could watch yourself get ruined by him. It’s like he wanted every part of this ingrained in your brain— the way he pounds into you, the way you couldn’t escape him with how your knees were pinned to the sides of your chest, the way you beg for more because you are just as selfish as him at the end of the day. 

You don’t fall apart with him, he’s not somebody you turn to mush with either. 

He’s somebody that rips you apart. 

Every sound that’s pulled out of you is real and raw, there was no way you could fake it. He finds what makes you feel good and drowns you in it, stripping you bare and leaving you wide open for him to consume. 

It didn’t matter how much had changed between you two, this is who he was— intense, all consuming, like a black hole that swallowed you whole.

And you were you, someone who enjoyed being on the other end of it. 

—

There’s water bottles littered on top of the dresser, you two have been going at it for hours, in every position you could think of. 

Folding you in a mating press, making you press down on your stomach at one point to see how deep he was inside of you. He’d surprise you with a particularly harsh thrust here and there, just to see how loud he could get you. Then he’d eventually pick up the pace, pounding into you until he had you crying and cumming all over his cock again.

Making you ride him, taunting you about how you wouldn’t last more than 5 minutes and saying he’d help you if you begged him hard enough. He quickly took those words back the moment you started bouncing on his cock, treating him like he was some fucking sex toy. You weren’t so forgiving though and didn’t allow him to touch you. 

It started off with him lean back on his elbows, talking you through it and telling you how good you were doing in that sexy voice of his. As time went on, his words became less. He mainly threw his head back while letting out the most sinful, drawn out moans or going completely mute while biting on his knuckles, with a few desperate pleas to just please let him touch you. He eventually stopped begging all together and placed a hand on your hip.

It earned himself a slap across the across face and made him cum so hard that he genuinely thought he was going to have an out of body experience because of it. 

Especially since you didn’t stop fucking him until you knew he was done, literally milking him for all he had and then some, like a spoiled brat.

He got his revenge on you shortly after, when he had you taking backshots from him in the world's meanest arch. Smushing your face down into the bed, degrading you and calling you all sorts of things that would’ve made you slap him again if it were under normal circumstances. He snapped his hips so hard against your ass that the smacks echoed throughout the room, making you eventually bite down on the blanket while you continued to take each and every one of his powerful thrusts. Even then, neither of you were worn out. 

You both were insatiable, taking turns on each other's bodies, allowing yourselves to use each other for reasons that probably won’t make sense once it’s all over. 

The sex you two had in the past was nothing compared to this.

Maybe it’s because hurt and anger were now added into the mix of confusing emotions you already felt towards each other. Or maybe you truly did miss each other and didn’t want the closeness to end.

In the beginning, you were so afraid to show more than just the “chill” side of yourself-- in fear of him calling it quits, in fear of him labeling you as some annoying girl for wanting more out of him.

And these past few months you've shown him nothing but the complete opposite of who you were when you were with him, yet he still wants you around. The person you were when you were with him didn't even exist, you just became someone you thought he'd like for the time being.

You betrayed yourself and it was all for nothing. It’s not until the end when you realize it, when you're splayed out under him and he’s giving you the slowest, deepest strokes. The guilt and shame from it all strikes you right then and there. the tears that begin to stream down your face feel endless, Sukuna can’t keep up with them no matter how many times he wipes them away. 

And he has no idea what the tears are from and who they're for, you two stopped talking to each other a while ago. So he just wipes the tears away and kisses you slowly, not even realizing how much more confusion he’s adding. 

Making love to someone should feel blissful, it’s supposed to be mindless. 

How can he feel that way with you after everything that’s happened? After everything you’ve done? 

He’s so gentle now. Does he think that you still deserve it?

You wouldn’t know, you fell asleep shortly after. Your entire body was sore, but it was the headache and tears you’d brought upon yourself that made you finally listen to your body and give in to rest. 

Falling asleep with Sukuna was always something that was easy for you, he’s warm. He’s heavy too, but you’ve always found comfort in the way he’d weigh you down with his body, you felt secure. 

But that feeling of security doesn’t last, it never does. You remember that when you wake up in the cold bed of your empty guest room. Sukuna seemed to have cleaned it up a bit while you were asleep, but the clean space does nothing to help the panic that immediately began to settle over you. 

You were going to have to eventually leave the room to face him and the child you share together. The only way you'd be able to do that is if you shoved down the feelings of shame far enough to where you wouldn’t feel them again until your all alone in your bed tonight, but your not sure if that's possible at this point.

You’re not even sure if you can look them in the eyes right now.

—

“What the fuck,” Kento mumbles to himself with his head in his hands, dropping his professionalism for a split second. The only thing he had to say at the moment was that he just knew Sukuna would be the one client that makes him drop his daily facade. 

Judging by his therapist's reaction, he’s definitely glad he didn’t tell him the full story. Not that he’d go ever go into graphic detail, but there was a huge difference between “we ended up sleeping together” and “I fucked her all night”. 

“Alright,” Kento recollects himself and says, lightly rubbing his temple before putting the glasses back on. “Let me just get this straight, you got mad at her last week for bringing up that she had a date, but you two were still completely normal up until she got back from her date.”

“Mhm,” he nods. 

“But you still feel like… shit over her going out?” 

“No, that’s kind of old news now. The story just wouldn’t make sense if I hadn’t mentioned it.” He tries to clarify, even though Kento is still left incredibly confused.

“Right.” The therapist clears his throat. “So what is it exactly that you don’t feel good about now?”

“Just everything that happened, things are kinda.. weird now.” 

“How so?”

“We haven’t spoken to each other aside from just a few words about Sayomi since then.”

notes: heeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyy 🫣 things got a little messy and complicated here haha

ummm sooo pretty much he fucked her so good she like *actually* realized her faults that weren't just her hiding an entire baby, and now she lw had depression idk. and ya! before having a baby, she basically was just like one of those people that kinda morphed in whoever their crush wanted.

she's obv grown to be her own person and is confident in herself, but realizing that he would've liked her regardless kinda made her spiral bc she was like why tf was I so hard on myself??? I fr hated myself that much?? yomi didn't have a dad bc of this??????

in this chapter we are reminded that they're kinda just dumb, confused kids at heart

also, sukuna's lw so fucked up for that 😭 toji didn't even get a CHANCE before he called him old and fucked reader right after her date. but we'll see.....

All rights reserved © 2025 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

blue lock objectively is insane and probably bad. but the thing about blue lock is that once you watch it youre like holy shit this is peak. its a disease.

other powerpoints ive made (including bllk part 2)

Regarding the ask about anal and douching, you can do a “quick” clean just to be safe!! Here’s a really nice guide that I took to my heart like a bible the first few times I was prepping for anal

https://howtocleanyourass.wordpress.com/

(the name of the link is so. on the nose. lol. but it’s really good i prommy!! with cute doodles and all. it’s by a gay man made predominantly for gay men but cleaning your ass is the same for everyone lol)

linky link for anyone who wants it 🙂‍↕️

who in jjk? an ADULT

I just read that Donald Trump and his circus took down a website called reproductiverights.gov

This was a website to help women learn about their reproductive rights in the US and to find health care.

This is absolutely disgusting so I’ll share in this post some resources in case you need them:

https://www.nichd.nih.gov/

Contraception and Birth Control Resources

Links to websites of groups that study or provide information about contraception and birth control.

Reproductive Freedom for All

Resources for Accessing Abortion Care

Browse resources for accessing abortion care: find providers, get information and advice, access abortion funds, legal advocacy and more.

plancpills.org

PLAN C: Abortion pills by mail in every state

Plan C is an information resource for self-managed, at-home abortion with pills. Learn how people in the U.S. are accessing abortion pill op

National Abortion Federation

Home - National Abortion Federation

The National Abortion Federation (NAF) is the professional association of abortion providers in North America. We believe that women should

https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn

It's not about the ship.

A majority of us BKDKs never believed the ship would become canon. That was never really on the table.

What it is about, is 10 years of character and relationship development completely nuked for the establishment of a different relationship that had faded into the background at best for a lot of that time.

Izuku and Katsuki are important to one another. There's zero denying that. Katsuki died for Izuku. All of his scars come from protecting Izuku in one way or another. Katsuki was devastated when he learned of OFA's loss. He worked for eight years to make sure Izuku could live out his dream.

Izuku has looked up to Katsuki since they were children. He lost the plot multiple times when Katsuki was insulted or in trouble. Shigraki himself said Katsuki was closer to Izuku than anyone else.

And all of that development brought us zero discussions about what they've been through. No talk about the impact of Katsuki's death. No talk of Katsuki's apology. No talk about Izuku's feelings about the demise of his dream. Instead, we got Izuku rejecting the idea of being partners with Katsuki, something his character for the entirety of the series would have undoubtedly loved.

Yes, people can grow apart. But show me that. Give me background on why. Give me something, anything that would explain why the Izuku at the end of the epilogue is in diametric contrast to the Izuku we saw at the end of chapter 430.

These two characters mean so much to me. I don't see myself in their story, but the love (whether platonic or otherwise) and care that they show for each other speaks to me so deeply. Katsuki's growth as a person and Izuku's acceptance of and willingness to forgive Katsuki no matter what speaks to me so deeply, and to see that thrown away stings.

It's not about the ship. It was never really about the ship.

mormons undoubtedly in the top 5 worst things the united states has ever invented which is really saying something

you see how i don’t throw a fit when someone writes a fic i’m not interested in reading? very mindful, very considerate, very demure. i’m not like you other girls who go on anon to tell writers you don’t like what they’ve chosen to write about. i simply do not read it and move on. very thoughtful. very cutesy.

you see how i don’t throw a fit when someone writes a fic i’m not interested in reading? very mindful, very considerate, very demure. i’m not like you other girls who go on anon to tell writers you don’t like what they’ve chosen to write about. i simply do not read it and move on. very thoughtful. very cutesy.

cr: the song is Gold, Guns, Girls by Metric

"Generic passenger car pack" (https://skfb.ly/6sUFy) by Comrade1280 "2014 Toyota Corolla E180 EU (with interior)" (https://skfb.ly/oLAVz) by Armored Wave special thanks to @pan-da-hero for cheering me up during this long long journey and to [redacted] for doing hand modeling for me no questions asked <3

now more than ever, please vet gofundmes before you donate.

copy and paste descriptions into google to see if there are scam accounts reusing the same story, check to see if there are any images/updates on the fund with faces. go to the original blog, check if the post asking for help is only an hour old, or even less than that. refrain from donating if all it links to is a PayPal account, without any further confirmation of identity.

it’s horrible to say but it’s never been a better time for scam artists to exploit your generosity, when things seem so dire, and I’ve donated to campaigns before only to realise later that the entire story was stolen from an actual family in need. due diligence might take a few more minutes out of your day but at least you won’t be sending money to an opportunistic scumbag.

I’m cropping you for your own privacy. I appreciate that you’re asking, but you are…wildly uninformed about this.

First, Pride is not BDSM-related. Every pride I have attended is extremely “family friendly” when it’s not an 18+ event, which makes it very clear that it’s an adult event and usually requires ID. It’s like any street festival. I’ve often seen more scantily clad Paddys parades. There’s Mardi Gras. You ever been to beach parties? I’ve seen more bare ass at a pool than I ever saw at Pride events. Pride is (frequently) a parade accompanied by cops and banks so nudity wouldn't be permitted, it's orgs tabling and handing out fliers, it's a dance party. It’s really not that serious.

Second, when it comes to things that make you uncomfortable, I promise you your discomfort does not mean you are not safe. Lemme repeat that: your discomfort does not mean you are unsafe. Public nudity is the absolute easiest thing to ignore. Turn your head. Walk away. I have seen cis guys plastered drunk in the city at football games pissing against the wall of a building and it's supremely easy to just go the other way. In the event you accidentally see a nipple or bulge or Idk, a leather belt? or whatever else you're so afraid of, it's not going to hurt you, and you can just walk away.

Third, any sexual elements of Pride come from the fact that sexuality was/is criminalized. People having a chaste kiss while queer is equated by bigots as being as heinous as fucking in the street. So people are going to be rowdy and unabashed about how their bedroom life is not going to be policed. Not by cops, not by you.

I went to a small town pride march where it was mostly queer teens and their parents and it was a chance for everyone to walk around with their flags and get ice cream. That's it. I've also been to +21 queer bar parties where people are topless or in assless chaps and wearing collars and have written obscene words on their bodies and that's also fine. I was not required to do anything I was uncomfortable with and I did not feel the need to tell others what to do. I could always leave. You can just leave things that make you uncomfortable.

Pride is a spectrum of experiences and nothing mainstream is going to be vulgar, and if it is to you, that is for you to reflect on, because why are silly outfits, or a nipple, or a leather hat so repulsive to you that you shake at the idea of not only seeing them, but merely being in the vicinity of where that might happen?

I am sorry you've been so convinced by homophobia that Pride is some scary place to be, and I had no doubts you haven't been before based on your questions. Ask what about it scares you so much. Ask what you can do to keep yourself safe and comfortable. And frankly just mind your business! If you wanted you'd be perfectly able to dance to some top-40 chart summer shit radio music and buy a slushie and get a g-rated rainbow keychain at the Target booth and be completely unhindered by others enjoying pride in their own ways.

Fem Kacchan

I've had this little idea in my head for a while now, so I decided to sit down and plot it out.

Disclaimer: This isn't meant to be some sort of One-Worksheet-Fits-All situation. This is meant to be a visual representation of some type of story planning you could be doing in order to develop a plot!

Lay down groundwork! (Backstory integral to the beginning of your story.) Build hinges. (Events that hinge on other events and fall down like dominoes) Suspend structures. (Withhold just enough information to make the reader curious, and keep them guessing.)

And hey, is this helps... maybe sit down and write a story! :)

human spinner doodles ( + shigaraki cuz they're besties)

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS

Too many beds

Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Really nice guy who hates only you

Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class

Divorce of convenience

Too much communication

True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)

Dating your enemy’s sibling

Lovers to enemies

Hate at first sight

Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead

Fake amnesia

Soulmates who are fated to kill each other

Strangers to enemies

Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

Too hot to cuddle

Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground

Nursing home au

🙏🏼❤️🇵🇸

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SHARE IF YOU CAN’T

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Help reema gamal reach their goal by donating or sharing with your friends.

(USD)

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Bismillah Ar rahman ar-raheem I am Zanyar and launching this fundra… Shadi Muheisen needs your support for Help Shadi and his family to

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Well, damn it... there's a lot if scenes I could talk about so this is a hard choice for me to make...

Okay, I'm picking Not Red, Black. It's one of the fics that I wrote that centers around Miruko and at the time, I dabbled a little into horror elements than the usual comedic and lighthearted ones I go for. The fic as a whole was just a sequel I just came up with on the fly because why not and wanted to see if I could write it. Sometimes, I do like to challenge myself and write a tone and a genre I'm not used to. Indeed, it was difficult and while I don't think I fully captured a "horror" kind of feel, I still say this is one of my better fics that isn't in my usual style.

One section I like to talk about is this scene!

It's evident, Miruko inhabits the "blood knight" trope. She's down for a good fight, doesn't mind the pain or anything.

Here I kind of wanted to take that part of her and twist in a way where it's almost opposite, I guess, of how she is in canon. She really doesn't show any negative feelings to fighting or killing someone, just that it's something she has to do because she has a duty. She doesn't want to have regrets.

For this scene, I still wanted to hone in that love for fighting she has and view she has on killing and make her question it. She doesn't feel joy, but at the same time she does. It confuses her. She's not sure how to feel, but she knows she feels something about ending a life to protect herself (she was attacked).

Also, colors. I'm sure you noticed that the title has "red" and "black" in it. While I do mention other colors, those two colors are emphasized a lot more in the fic. For this particular scene, I hoped to have captured this imagery of Miruko just sitting in a huge void of shadows that represent her self-doubt and corruption.

Fanfic Writers: Director's Cut

Love that this AU has 5 stars on Google Reviews

some people say there’s a red string that connects fated lovers

Just a reminder for people who may not know, in light of protestors at UCLA being shot in the face with rubber bullets— rubber bullets are not bullets made of rubber. They are metal bullets encased in rubber.

Despite being called “non-lethal” or sometimes “less lethal”, they are well known to cause death and permanent disability.

Here’s a photo showing their size— these are actual rubber bullets used during the Black Lives Matter protests in 2020.

Do not let them downplay the severity of what they are subjecting this students to for standing against genocide. Stay safe and stay educated.

EDIT: Twitter banned @/nosferatusexgod, the student shot, whose tweet I linked to (as a primary source) at the top of the post. Screenshots of the tweet I originally linked to can be found here.

‼️🇵🇸 An activist, who destroyed multiple engine parts of the jets Israel uses, has been released!

🔸 Source: pal_action