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#basically i just want more maul

gojonanami · 3 months

Text

❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ❞

❝ EVERYONE WANTS SATORU GOJO, SO WHY ARE YOU THE ONE STUCK GUARDING HIM ? ❞

✧ pairing: rich boy! gojo x bodyguard! reader

✧ summary: after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is around the same age as gojo (both in their 20s but age is vague), virgin! gojo, switch! gojo, oral (f + m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), depictions of violence, mentions of yakuza, dirty business dealings, gojo's made up dad and suguru make an appearance

✧ wc: 15,311 (i don't know what to say at this point)

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 1 has been sold to @forest-hashira and two anons!

“So, is this your first time?”

Satoru Gojo would be the end of you — one way or another.

One way would be you sacrificing your life to protect him — fairly run of the mill when it came to guarding someone, the risk of putting your life on the line, though the chance of death usually was fairly slim. You had only come close — twice.

You didn’t care to make it a third.

The other, increasingly more likely, way was that you would lose your mind to his incessant yammering before you even had a chance to neutralize any threat to his life.

You nearly spit out your drink at the question, wiping your mouth with a napkin, before managin to choke it down, “Excuse me?”

And his lips annoyingly curl, “Your first time guarding someone,”

The heir seemed fairly nonchalant, even after his father had sat the both of you down in a room filled with more security agents than the prime minister of Japan himself had, and had lectured him about the importance of staying with you the entire time and to respect your authority — well one out of two wasn’t bad. He’s eating a piece of cake instead of a meal, his fork digging into the back of the cake again and again, toying with his food as he did with you, “I mean, you seem fairly young, but old enough to be entrusted with my safety,”

“Well, since you insisted on going to school, your father needed someone unassuming who looked around your age,” you lean against your hand, your other drumming against the table, as your eyes scanned the area — table of frat boys, group of girls sneaking glances at Gojo, various other students, no real threats — unless you counted the girls’ death daggers towards you, “someone who wouldn’t look out of place with you, raise any suspicions, but who could still protect you,”

His lips curl, as your eyes find their way back to the young heir, “So basically, you had to look like my girlfriend — shouldn’t I hold your hand? Sell the act? All in the name of my safety,”

You jerk your head towards his group of admirers, “I think what we’re doing now is plenty — unless you’d like your guard to get mauled by a bunch of hormonal college girls,”

His eyes slid to his adoring fans, as he pities them with a wave, erupting squeals from them, “I think you could take them,”

“How flattering,” you reply drily, picking at the food in front of you, “now finish your lunch so we can get to our next class on time,”

“Are you still upset that we were late this morning?”

“No, I’m upset that we missed half the class and I had to take the fall for it,” the heir had oh so kindly told the professor that you had made them run late (even though he was the one who spent far too long in the bathroom).

And even though you wouldn’t be attending this school for long, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to make yourself look like a fool the entire time you were here — but — your eyes found Gojo’s again — sticking with Satoru Gojo almost made that a guarantee that you would look like a fool — one way or another.

And you were already the fool — for thinking that a college aged boy would have any real food in his refrigerator. Although, Satoru Gojo was a different breed — instead of alcohol and questionable containers of takeout, there was...sweets.

So. Many. Sweets.

Not just cookies and candy — but literally six different kinds of mochi (for some reason?) and almost any pastry you could possibly think of was stocked in the house. And the freezer was more of the same — seven different containers of ice cream and one aged bag of edamame stuck in the back.

“Gojo?” you stare into the open refrigerator, while Gojo lays back on his couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any food?”

“What do you mean? The refrigerator is full of food?” and his voice is thick with genuine confusion and you’re almost wondering how this man survived to this age.

Oh yeah, he’s rich.

You sigh, closing the refrigerator doors, and striding over to him, only to snatch his phone out of his hands, “Sweets are not real food — how do you eat like this and function?”

He only shrugs, lips curled into a grin, “I’m just built different,”

“You mean like a person who won’t make it to age fifty?” you toss his phone back at him, “get up,” you grab your sweatshirt hanging by the door and throw his jacket at him. He barely catches it, as he sits up, his face displeased with your sudden need to get him up.

“Where are we going?”

“So,” Gojo says, his hands in his pockets, as you both walk the aisles of the grocery store, “why did I have to come with you?”

“Because I’m going to show you how to actually shop for groceries, so you don’t have a heart attack and die before my stint with you is up,” you grab essentials and basics — oil, rice, cereal, pasta, spices, flour, sugar (although did he really need sugar with the amount he was already consuming?), “you know it would suck if my client died before we eliminated the other threats on his life,” before you add with a smile, “though I think your eating habits are more likely to kill you,”

“You know men really hate sarcastic women,” he bites back, before something catches his eye in the aisle and he places it in the cart, “major turn off,”

“Well, mission accomplished then,” you roll your eyes, as you look back at the cart to see a box of cookies, “you know when I said you were a moron, I was half kidding, but now,” you lift up the box of cookies, “you have a million cookies at home,”

He pouts — why do you feel like a mother refusing their child their candy at checkout? — “Not these ones,” you take the box and put it back on the shelf where it belonged, and he relents.

“Did you eat like this before college?”

He shook his head, “My meals were prepared for me by the chef at my home, I never really had much of a say in what I ate, or anything really,” and you shake your head, “my father wasn’t really the type to let me handle anything on my own — thus the need for a babysitter,”

You nod, “So no one really taught you how to take care of yourself?” and he shakes his head.

“Guess not, but I guess no time like the present to learn,” he examines the box of baking powder you had just placed in the cart, “like what this is,” and you snort, taking the box from him and placing it back in the cart.

“Maybe by the end of this trip, we’ll have you making it past the age of forty,”

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you said fifty?”

“The cookies made me lose more faith in you,”

The two of you continue to shop, as you help him pick out vegetables, meat, and other necessities for the house. You separate the things for you and for him meticulously, as the two of you head over to the checkout, and he’s placing everything on the conveyor belt together, including your own things, “No wait, those are mine—”

“Consider it payment,” he stops you, as you continue to try to argue, but he’s only blocking you from the conveyor belt with a raised arm, a real smile on his lips, “just let me do this for you,” And you can’t find any words, so your mouth shuts, and you nod — as you watch him speak with the older cashier with his patented charm.

And the cashier stops you right as you’re leaving, whispering, “That’s a good one, don’t let him go, ok?” and you pause, her words sinking in as blood rushes to your cheeks.

“We’re not—”

“I know,” the older woman chuckles far too knowingly, as she hands you the receipt, “but you never know.”

“You coming?” Gojo calls, turning to look back at you, as he pushes the cart of groceries, and you look from the cashier to him, before fleeing with a quick ‘thank you.’

And as you go home, you glance at Gojo, maybe there was more to him than you initially thought.

“This is so boooooring,” Gojo’s whining for, what you assume is, the billionth time, “I hate philosophy, moral arguments? It’s such bullshit,”

“You know philosophy is literally a subject that encompasses everything right?” you tilt your head watching him lay on the floor as the two of you sit at the table, his head right next to you, as you sit cross legged, “there’s no avoiding it in life,”

“Well can’t I avoid it in school at least? Because college feels very different from real life,” and you roll your eyes, flicking him between the eyes.

“Just write your paper, I already finished mine,” and he perks up.

And he slides his laptop over to you, “Then you can write mine,”

“That’s not happening,” and he groans again, “you know if you spent all the time that you whined working on your paper then you’d be done,”

“Were you this much of a buzzkill when you were in college?” Gojo stares at you, “what do you even do for fun?”

“Why is this relevant to you writing your paper?”

“Why is writing my paper relevant to protecting my life?” and you open and close your mouth, “c’mon give me something, anything,”

“How about this — when you finish a page, I’ll answer a question, any question,” you offer, and he grins, as he sits up and begins to type away at his laptop.

You sit back, lying back and using your phone, until about fifteen minutes later when he’s holding his laptop up, showing you that he completed a page, “That fast?” you’re skeptical, and then you grab his laptop, skimming the page, wondering if he was trying to trick you — he wasn’t. It was good, more than good — it was a wonderful discussion of deontological ethics.

“How did you finish this so fast?” you raise an eyebrow, “you complain so much, but you wrote this page far too quickly,”

He shrugs, “I’m good at everything, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “jealous?”

“Totally,” you scoff, before grinning, “so get back to work,” and he gapes at you, before groaning dramatically, lying back on the floor again.

“Ugh, this is too much work,” he whines again, “I don’t know why I had to take this stupid class,” he grumbles.

“Then why did you?” you scroll through your phone, checking for any new alerts or updates from his father or any other member of the security team, “you have a choice in what classes you sign up for, don’t you?”

And for one of the first times, you saw Satoru’s playfulness ebb away, replaced with almost a bitterness — as bitter as his words were usually sweet, “Maybe most college kids do, but I don’t have a choice in most of the things I do, including the classes I pick,”

You tilt your head, “Your father?” And he nods, “did you even choose your major?”

His eyes drift to the ceiling, “Is it a choice when your father tells you you’re either being groomed to run his company when you graduate or he’s not paying for you to go to school at all?”

“No, it isn’t,” you admit, “but it could be worse, he could have stuck you with a glorified babysitter on top of it,”

He cracks a smile, “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for babysitters,” and you roll your eyes, cracking a smile.

“Get back to work.”

“Fuck,” Satoru muttered, watching the rain come down as he waited outside the university awning of the building he had just finished his class in. You had left him to go to class by himself — you trusted him enough not to get murdered while in class and on the walk back (high praise) — and said you’d likely just meet him back at the apartment. But now, he didn’t know how he’d get home without getting soaked.

He checks his phone for any rideshares nearby, but there were none. And he would rather go drown in the rain than call his father’s driver, and guarantee a lecture about being prepared for “any given situation.”

Shit. Maybe he would just risk walking.

So he did. The rain soaked through his clothes all too quick, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, and the cold leeching the warmth from his body. And he couldn’t help but think if you were with him, you would have remembered to bring an umbrella.

Weird, when did he ever really rely on anyone else?

Yes, his father had maids, cooks, and personal shoppers when he was growing up — but they weren’t people he relied on — he did, but it was expected. It was their job. And yes, he was a job for you too — but…it was different.

Satoru didn’t know when it happened but he had gotten used to your presence in his life. Whether it was at home or in class, you were always there. And it wasn’t as annoying as he thought it would be. It was…nice to have someone there to lean on. But, as he glanced up at the storm clouds, holding a hand above his eyes — rolling dark clouds with no signs of the rain letting up — this would be his reality once the threats were a distant memory.

“Gojo!” He blinks, his eyes snapping forward, and he sees someone coming over the horizon.

It was you — umbrella in hand, as your footsteps echoed with the splashes of water from the rain that collected on the ground. And you found your way to him, holding the umbrella over his head. He stared at you as you grew closer, wondering if you were real. And he wasn’t surprised you found him —

“How did you know?” He asks when you stand, catching your breath, short pants, as your eyes flicker up to his.

“You always forget your umbrella, so I figured you needed one,” you shrugged, “plus I finished my meeting early so I came to get you,” and he only stares at you, “what?”

And he only shakes his head, as he takes the umbrella from your hand, fingers brushing, as he holds it up over the both of you, your shoulders brushing as you begin to walk home. And he found himself wishing for a split second that the threats would never stop.

“Just wondering if it’s in your job description to protect me from colds too,” and you snort, lips curling into the same smile he loved to see.

“With you? It is.”

“A party?”

“Yes, known as a gathering of people where—”

“I don’t need you to define the word,” you grit your teeth, as you watch him pull out shirts from his closet, holding them up, before shrugging, “do you know the kind of danger you could put yourself in by going?”

“I know, the party might go into a frenzy at the sight of me, think of all the students who’d glare at you then,” he grins, as he finally settles on an outfit — charcoal gray shirt and a blue button down, “might have to call another bodyguard to guard you instead, princess,”

“Aren’t you the princess if you’re the one being guarded?” you bite back, and he only laughs, hands in his pockets, “Gojo, you have serious threats that have been levied—”

“Against my father—”

“And you, the heir to your father’s company,” you cut him off, crossing your arms, “are you seriously going to risk our lives because you want to get drunk and fuck around with a bunch of idiots?”

The answer was yes, of course.

And now here you were, stuck babysitting this spoiled heir at a party. You hadn’t really been to any parties — hadn’t bothered to. You had gotten through college at a young age, perks of skipping a few grades, and you ended up in the family business regardless — so you didn’t bother to party much. Not when you had things to accomplish — babysitting a drunk heir wasn’t one of them.

It has started as you expected. Gojo had flitted away from your side the first moment he got, disappearing into the throng of horny and drunk college students. You wove your way through the crowd, careful not to trip over the students making out, dancing, or drinking on nearly any available surface. The smell of beer and cheap cologne wafted through this dorm. And you had almost given up on finding him when you spotted him stuck to the sides of three girls, all of them far too eager to hang off his every word.

You sighed, this was going to be a long night.

“You one of Satoru’s girlfriends?” you glance to your side and see Suguru Geto in person. You had learned all about Satoru Gojo and the people he hung around. Like those three girls — one of them had a long distance boyfriend, the other had a cheating situationship she was trying to make jealous, and the other just wanted to fuck him for the experience. Suguru Geto was one of the only friends of Gojo you had liked from what you had read about him — humble background, on scholarship at the college, but one of the best students here — and a philosophy student of all things, the very subject his best friend hated.

You want to say no, but unfortunately, you have no idea what the idiot has been saying to other people, “Something like that,” you sip at your drink to make the bitter words slide down, “why? Are you?”

A chuckle slips past his lips, as he takes a swig of his drink, “Well I already like you better than the others. You have a sense of humor and seemingly more than two brain cells,”

“Don’t give me too much credit,” you snorted, leaning against a wall, “I did end up here after all,”

“Fair enough, how’d he convince you to come?” And you shake your head — good question. What choice did you really have? You could have let him go alone, but probably not a good look

“I don’t even know honestly, feel like I’ve been dragged here to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid,” you glance at him and the gaggle of girls, “though maybe I already fucking failed at that,”

Geto shrugs, as his gaze slips from Gojo to you, “I mean until he sticks his tongue down one of their throats, I think you’re doing pretty well,”

You laugh, “Good to know,” and you both continue to chat, and unbeknowst to you, while your focus is torn away from Gojo, his attention is fully on you.

If looks could kill, Satoru imagined his crystal eyes were nothing more than daggers ready to strike, as he watches you and Suguru talk.

It was his fucking idea to come to this party, so why were you having more fun than he was?

He swirled his drink miserably — he had barely taken a sip of the beer poured for him — why would he when it tasted like piss? He didn’t understand why people liked to drink — especially when they could eat mochi instead — but now, as he stares at you and Suguru, maybe he was starting to understand.

He can’t hear what either of you are saying over the blaring music and the chatter of students surrounding him, but he can see the smile on your lips and the laugh that left them.

Why the fuck do you look so happy to talk to Suguru?

You seemed so bored when he was with you—and did you just fucking laugh again at something Suguru said?

The crinkle of plastic and the distinct feeling of a spill made his gaze snap to his hand — he just crushed his plastic drink cup. He sighed, as he simply placed it among the other abandoned drink cups on a nearby table, before wiping off his hand with a napkin.

Why did he even care? You were nothing but a nuisance anyway. All you did was follow him around, make him go to class on time, make sure he was safe, care about his well-being—

What the fuck was he thinking?

His eyes couldn’t help but slide back to you as he tried to enjoy the girls' company, their slight touches and soft pouts and sweet words not going unnoticed by him. But that was how it always was. Once people found out he was rich, people wanted to be his friend, they wanted to date him, they wanted him — but not really him, they wanted his money.

First world problems, right?

But you — you hadn’t been like that. You were irritatingly punctual, unfazed by his money, didn’t care in the slightest about his father or who he was — you just wanted to do your job. And he was your job, for the time being.

And now he got to see you smile — your lips perfectly curled in a smile that both he wanted to see all the time and grated on his nerves — but you were smiling at someone else. And Suguru no less.

“C’mon Satoru, you gonna make eyes at your boyfriend all night?” Aiko said, nudging him teasingly, her words far too slurred.

“Help us finish these shots,” Yumiko whines, as she offers him a shot, urging it into his hands.

He’s grimacing, he hates alcohol — he hates how he feels during and after; he hates the disgusting, metallic taste; and if it couldn’t get worse, he’s a lightweight. He stares at the shot.

“It’s just one shot,” Misaki grins, holding up her own, clinking hers to his, “you’re already three shots behind everyone else,”

And he’s about to open his mouth to refuse — make up an excuse of having to wake up early or stomach being unsettled — and that’s when you catch his attention. You were laughing now, a noise far too pretty for his liking, as you shoved Suguru’s chest playfully.

Fuck it.

He downs the shot, the liquid searing down his throat, dragging down until it settles in a burning pool in his stomach. Finally he tears his gaze away as the girls offer him another shot — as you grin at Suguru — this was going to be a long night.

“Hey,” Geto jerks his head, “you might want to deal with that,”

You whip your head around.

“Oh what the—“

Gojo was hanging all over the girls he was with, barely able to stand on his two feet, as he swayed from side to side — his cheeks glowed with the telltale glow that told everyone he had been drinking (if that wasn’t obvious by literally everything else).

Fuck.

You had kept an eye on him. You swore he had only taken two shots of alcohol, how was he this drunk already? You examine and sniff the two shot glasses he used — no peculiar smell or residue — you run through the gamut of tests you could do on hand and conclude two things: 1) Gojo wasn't drugged and 2) he was a lightweight.

But that didn’t stop him from acting like he wasn’t, as girls egged him on to take more shots, and from the way they were eyeing him, their intentions were anything but pure.

You sigh, walking over, slipping past a drunk couple making out, a person passed out and sleeping on the floor, and a cluster of cheering onlookers as a student chugged what you can only assume was a disgusting concoction of alcohol.

Until you finally reached his side.

“I think you’ve had enough, isn’t that right, Satoru?” And he’s blinking at you, before he’s grinning, slurring your name.

“You’re no fun,” and he’s clinging all over you, his hands curled around your waist, “such a buzzkill, don’t even like to have any fun with me,”

“Looks like you had too much fun without me,” you murmur, your arm slinks around the middle of his back, “let’s get you back to your dorm,”

“Hey he’s fine, he’s having fun with us,” Aiko glared at you, a hiccup leaving her lips, “don’t go crashing our good time because he’s not interested in you,”

“Yeah why don’t you go hang out with Geto or whatever? We’ll take good care of him. C’mon Toru, let’s go to my place in Shibuya, I have a huge house there,” Yumiko says, barely coherent, and you raise your eyebrows at the nickname, as she leans in to whisper, alcohol wafting off her breath, as she lifts up her middle finger, “fuck off,”

Honestly the only reason you can understand the gist of what she meant was because of her middle finger. Their other friend is passed out on the couch.

“I don’t think any of you can even care for yourselves,” you scoff, and Satoru is hanging all over you already, mumbling words you can’t make out in your ear, “I’m taking him home, you should take your friend home,”

“Geto, wanna help me out?” And Geto nods, trying to take Gojo other arm, but Gojo pushes him away, instead clinging to you, you stumble a moment before catching both of you, “Gojo—“

“No, wanna go home with just you,” he’s officially whining, and you’re having flashbacks to the summer you spent babysitting, but — you look at the drunk white porcupine clinging to you — somehow this idiot is worse than the kid.

You sigh, “Geto, make sure that girl gets home safe,” you gesture to the one passed out on the couch, “I’m going to deal with this one,”

Geto stares at the two of you, the far too tall Satoru hunched over onto your body, “Can you—“

But you’re already walking away, able to drag Gojo away with relative ease (it’d be far easier if he’d pull his own weight, but at least he was quiet).

That was, until you got outside. And then the whining began again.

“How can you treat me like this?” Gojo’s hands cling to your arm, his face buried in your shoulder, “you shouldn’t ignore the one you’re supposed to protect!” and he’s shaking his head like a petulant child, his bottom lip quivering.

“You’re the one who left my side, not the other way around,” you grumble, as he’s finally beginning to walk by himself but he’s still stuck to your side like an overgrown cactus, “you’re the one who wanted to go to this goddamn party,”

“Yeah but you’re the one who's supposed to protect me,” he pouts, as he stops right in front of his building, “I can’t do your job for you,” and he’s finally standing in front of you, his cheeks and nose still flushed from the alcohol, his hand still clutching at yours, “do you even know how to do your job?”

You grit your teeth. Would punching the person you’re hired to protect be a breach of contract? You rub your temples, it may come to that.

“You’re an idiot,” you jerk your hand away, shaking your head, “my job is to protect you, not to stop you from doing stupid college boy shit,”

He’s crossing his arms, “I could have been in danger — what if that alcohol was poisoned? I feel really sick,” he grips, holding his stomach with pursed lips, and you’re thoroughly unimpressed.

“I looked at it, it wasn’t poisoned,” you raise an eyebrow, before sighing, and shrugging your shoulder bag off your shoulders, rooting around in the pouch, “but if you want, I have something in my bag that will turn your stomach inside out and we’ll be sure to get the poison out,”

“Nooooo, no! I’m fine,” he’s shaking his head, his voice grows soft, “I just need to get to bed,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes, but grab him by his wrist.

“Come on, we’re going inside,” and it’s a struggle to get to his apartment — more like a luxury penthouse — on the top floor, but somehow you get him inside and shepherd into his bedroom. And he’s shrugging off his button up before pulling off the shirt underneath.

Your gaze snaps away, cheeks burning, your eyes trying to erase the glimpse of his fucking unfairly chiseled physique — complete a surprisingly broad chest and shoulders — how the fuck was that hiding under his clothes? He looked like a stick normally with his clothes on.

“See something you like?” he’s snickering, as you hear the click of his belt and the and sounds of rustling — assuredly stepping out of his jeans.

“No, just not used to clients stripping for me,” you turn your back to him, as you hear the creak of the mattress and the crinkling of his comforter and sheets.

“Am I just a client to you?” his words were still mildly slurred, and you knew he’d be pouting if he had enough brain cells to do so, “you can turn around, I’m under the covers,” he adds with a grumble.

You turn and see him curled up under his blanket and you have to bite back your smile — now he most assuredly looked like one of the kids you used to babysit.

“Well what else am I supposed to see you as, Gojo?” you cross your arms, and he’s muttering under his breath, “what?”

“That’s just it. You don’t even call me by my first name,” he’s brooding, face twisted in a scowl, “I don’t have a lot of people I trust. Most people are just after my money or my looks,” he looks at you, “you’re different. Kinda weird,”

You quirk an eyebrow, “is that a good thing?”

“Well I trust you,” he admits, and you note the tips of his ears barely visible outside the comforter are red — is it still the flush from the alcohol? “I don’t really have many of those,”

And you’re taken aback — you thought you were nothing but a nuisance to this party obsessed prince, but maybe there was more to him than you thought. You toyed the ring on your finger, maybe you had more in common than you thought.

“Thank you, I’m glad you do, because you can, trust me that is,” you say softly, “good night, Satoru.”

And he does sleep after that, as you spend the night keeping watch, half to ensure his safety and the other to make sure he slept on his side in case he threw up

(and he did, twice).

“I need to talk to you,” Suguru Geto barely looked up from his phone when he saw Satoru in front of him, his best friend looking more irritable than usual — his usually bored affect seemed to be on holiday, “Suguru?”

“I heard you the first time, what is it?” and Satoru snatches the phone from Suguru’s hands, “what the fuck—“

“What were you doing last night?” and Suguru tilts his head, before rubbing his temple.

“Give me my fucking phone—“

“What did you talk to her about?” And Suguru stares at him, his brow furrowed, smart mouth ready with a reply about a stint in a spa or a retreat was needed before his lips curl.

“Oh. Her,” and he’s leaning back, a lazy shrug, “this and that,”

“Cut the shit, Suguru, do you like her or not? Did you get her number?” And Satoru is trying to unlock Suguru’s phone, as Suguru watches with a tilt of his head and a wry grin on his lips, “huh? what is it?”

“So you like her, that much is clear,” and he’s crossing his arms, “I assume you didn’t tell her or you wouldn’t have come in swinging and stealing?”

Satoru stares at him, slack jawed and cheeks turning a deep pink that only carnations could rival, “No! She’s just a…friend of the family, and she’s not supposed to be with—“

“She told me she liked you,” his heart catches, mouth falling open, before Suguru’s lips curl, “well, she said that she was one of the many, rather,”

Satoru’s cheeks burn, “It’s not like that, she barely even fucking looks at me. Can you believe that? Me?” and he gestures up and down his body.

“I see your ego is still intact,” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, before leaning back on his palms, “just tell her how you feel, Satoru, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is I have no idea how she feels and it’s all your fault!” And Suguru raises an eyebrow, “you charmed her and I’m sure you’re the only one she’s thinking about now,” he covers his face, “and after what I said to her last night…” he couldn’t believe he admitted that you were the one of the only ones he trusted. And he called you weird.

He honestly didn’t know what was worse.

“What did you even say?”

“Say to who?” and Satoru turns, finding you standing behind him, arms crossed.

And Satoru cuts Suguru off before he can say a thing, “Not important. What are you doing here—“ you grab him by the wrist, a wave of heat makes his nearly burn red as you begin to drag him away, “what are you—“

“Bye Geto,” you say, waving at the raven haired student, before taking Geto’s phone and tossing it back to him, “I’m taking the idiot—“

“HUH?”

“Good luck. He might need to be fed — he’s in a mood,” and he waves back, same smile on his lips.

“What did you two do, adopt me?” Satoru grumbles as you pull him away, “where the hell are you dragging me? How did you even find me?”

“The post hangover suits you well, we have to get to class, and I placed a tracker on you,” and he’s jerking his hand away, staring at you, “I have to be able to find you, don’t I?”

“Where?”

You tilt your head, “Why would I tell you? Don’t worry about, I’ll remove it after we’re done here,”

You weren’t going to budge on this — and if he argued more, you would take it up with his father. And he would like to avoid that as much as possible. He sticks his hands in his pockets, , “I’m tired, can’t you just go and take notes for me?”

“I thought you’d be more concerned about the threats against your life, instead of sending your bodyguard off to your class for you” you hiss, and he’s pouting again, unable to meet your gaze, “what’s your problem, Satoru?”

And he pauses, the retort on lips dying as his brain looped in an infinite spiral of his name on your lips, “You called me ‘Satoru,’”

You tilt your head, “you told me to last night,” and then you add with a wicked grin, “remember? When you said I was one of the only people you trusted,” you tease, but he’s too busy hearing his name repeat in his head again and again, “Satoru—“

“Better be careful, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that annoyingly charming smile, “keep calling me by my first name and I may fall for you,”

You glare at him, before rolling your eyes, “I see you’re feeling better now,” you walk forward, glancing back at him, “you coming?”

And his wrist tingles still tingle from your touch, his lips quirk into a smile, “Yeah.”

“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Satoru asks you, the movie you had haphazardly chosen still ongoing had all become background noise while you spoke, the illumination from the television screen being the only thing that kept your faces lit in the dark living room (he had insisted on shutting the lights off for an “authentic movie watching experience”).

It had been a few weeks, with no signs of the threat posed ever being eliminated — still new threats were being made, and the Gojo family was still on edge.

But you were on edge for a whole other reason.

His fingers were still shoved in the bag of kettle corn he had been snacking on this entire time, but you could feel his gaze on you, instead of the movie.

“What do you mean?” your eyes slide to him, as your phone’s ringer goes off with a spam email, and you silence it, keeping it on vibrate for emergencies, “and what’s with the sudden question?”

The two of you had settled into your routine — days spent in class, meals shared, grocery shopping, and nights spent either in or out — but again, always together. And, it wasn’t bad — some of it was fun, to the point you almost forgot you were working.

But you were working. Even now, as your legs are thrown up on the couch, crossed underneath you, your knee brushing against his thigh.

He shrugs, “You owe me a question, remember?” and he reminds you of your promise from weeks ago — you had wondered why he had never asked you anything that night, “You never talk about yourself. You implied you have your degree, but not much else. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re intelligent — you could have done anything, why this?” and his lips curl into that mischievous, “unless you just had to guard me when you found out it was me,”

You toss a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with ease, “If only your body was as bulletproof as your body,” and he huffs out a laugh, as you sigh, “why are you interested anyway?”

“Because I am,” you scoff.

“Nice reasoning,” he only grins, a thousand watt even in the dark.

“I thought so,” and he’s holding the pillow to his chest, “c’mon, can you not tell me even one thing about yourself?”

He wasn’t going to let this go was he? And you relent, chewing on your lip, “My family has been in this business for years — my grandfather, my father, my uncles, and my cousins, and I wanted to be one too. To protect people — it’s a lot more work than it seems. It’s quick thinking, critical reasoning, and analytical skills. It’s all I ever wanted to do after watching my dad do it,” you say softly, “but he didn’t think I was capable of it. He thought I was too soft. Too weak. So I decided to prove him wrong,”

“You weak? Has your father met you?” and you huff a laugh, “I’m serious,” his cerulean pools meeting yours with not a ripple of hesitancy in them, “I’ve seen you — I don’t I’ve met anyone this determined, or stubborn,” he adds with a smirk.

“I’m stubborn?” you gape at him, “this coming from the king of stubborn,”

“Only if you’ll be my queen,” and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn, as your gaze turns back to the movie — why did your heart catch at his words? “but trust me, I’m very flexible in other aspects,”

“Oh my god, is every other sentence that leaves your mouth a pick-up line?” and he opens his mouth, “don’t say ‘only for you,’ or I will be the only threat you have to worry about,”

“Promise?” you grab another pillow, but he catches your wrist before you can toss it. Your breath catches, and you can’t meet his gaze — you can’t, because you know if you do— but then he whispers your name.

And you can’t help it. You look at him. His eyes are so pretty. They were really the first things that struck you when you met him — that was before he opened his mouth. They looked like they contained multitudes, a far too beautiful ocean tucked behind sunglasses and an irritated scowl. But it wasn’t a secret that Satoru Gojo was attractive — especially not when every other person glared at you for simply being in his presence. But physical attractiveness meant little if a person wasn’t good — because superficiality could only take you so far.

And you knew what it was like to be only judged superficially — and by the way Satoru’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when these people chatted him up, he was far too used to it.

And once he did speak, you had written him off as another rich kid — you had seen them a dime a dozen throughout your schooling and from the people your family was protected to hire. But there was something about him — something you couldn’t quite shake, even though every part of you was telling to do so.

“What is it, Satoru?” And his fingers tug you a little closer, gently, his hand loose enough for you to slip away, but you don’t. Why don’t you?

“You don’t always have to have your guard up,” his voice is soft, far too soft for the far too loud heir, “it’s okay to open up,”

You shake your head, but still unable to pull away, “It’s dangerous,” and he laughs, a sound that only warms the thin icy barrier between you both, melting it to nothing.

“Isn’t danger the whole reason we met?” And now his thumb brushes up and down against your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse roaring just underneath.

You pull away again, shaking your head, as you cross your arms, trying to hold your resolve together, “I can’t do my job if I’m distracted,” and you couldn’t, even now, you weren’t evaluating any risks, you weren’t trying to find the source of the threats — no, you were too busy trying not to inch closer to your client, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give in to what you wanted.

“And I’m a distraction?” he looks far too pleased, but a thought seems to sour his smirk, “I thought Suguru was more of one,” and his lips are caught in a slight pout.

“Geto was just keeping me company while you entertained those girls hanging on your every word,” you can’t dull the point to your words, and it replaces his pout with a grin.

“So you were jealous,”

“You’re the one who was jealous — you could have killed Suguru with your glare alone,”

“But you didn’t deny it,” and it makes you stop — why didn’t you deny it?

“I can’t do this,” and you’re pulling away, before flicking off the tv and rising from the couch your phone in hand, turning towards the hallway, “it’s late we should go to bed—“ but he’s catching your wrist again, “Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you hated how gentle his fingers felt around your wrist, “how are you supposed to protect me if you’re too busy running away from me?”

“I’m great at multitasking,” and he’s drawing closer to you, his soft footfalls against the carpet, even as you step away from him, “my job is to protect you, we can’t get distracted—“

“I thought you were so good at multitasking,” he chuckles, his fingers find your wrist again, slipping to intertwine with your own, fingers interlaced, and your phone falls from your fingers and onto the couch, “what I said that night when I was drunk was true — I don’t have a lot of people I trust. People don’t understand. They put me on a pedestal or they don’t want me, they want the concept of me — not the reality,”

“I’m not licensed as a therapist you know,” and he’s sighing.

“Do you always have to deflect with humor? Because if we both do that, we’ll never get through a conversation,” and he squeezes your hand, “which I guess I don’t mind if that means you’ll stay,”

“Satoru—“

“We don’t have to do anything now — we don’t have to do anything at all,” and you can feel his words warming your skin, “but don’t you feel something?”

You hesitate, and you can’t look at him, “No, I don’t,”

“You’re not a very good liar — don’t they teach you that in bodyguard academy?”

You snort, holding your head, “Is that where you imagined I got my training done?”

“Well, you don’t exactly like to share, now do you?” he’s stepping forward again, and you can’t bring yourself to run away anymore.

“I shouldn’t,” and you hear the faint sound of his breath hitching, “but I do,”

You don’t need to look at him to hear the smile on his lips, “so maybe it’s a distraction worth having,”

“But—” and he’s gently turning you to face him, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, heat blooming with his touch, “Satoru…”

“Why do you keep saying my name when you know I like hearing it?” he’s teasing, but you’re not shying away from his touch, as his fingers cup your chin now, upwards, so you meet his gaze, “maybe we should have had you pretend to be my girlfriend,”

You chuckle, “Oh I could see that going wrong in so many ways,” and he’s leaning even closer, as he’s left the line you’d drawn far behind, marred it with his touch, and is luring you over to stumble over the edge with him.

“Is this one of them?”

“Probably,” and his lips brush against yours — he tastes sweet, the taste of kettle corn lingers, as his fingers cup your cheek now, and find purchase on his shoulder. It’s brief, a soft press that leaves you far too breathless, as if his touch had taken the air from your lungs, only to leave heat behind, “definitely,”

“Is that a good thing or—” and your lips find his this time, a gasp you swallow with a smirk, and he melts into your touch, eager fingers grasping at the front of his shirt. And he responds in kind, his fingers tracing a path, as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand settles on the back of your neck.

His touch set every nerve ending on fire — a desperate wildfire that burned a trail across your mind and body — leaving only the crave of his touch behind, that left you wanting more, needing more.

“Was that good?” you murmur, as you take in your handiwork, his pink lips were bitten red by your kisses, his marble skin a lovely flush, and his gaze far too needy. God, it’s far too easy to get lost in him — pull your anchor from the shore and get lost in his gaze and touch, “god I shouldn’t ask that, we shouldn’t be doing this—” but your body refuses to pull away, and you don’t think by the grasp he has on you, that you’d be able to anyway.

But he only gives you the same answer to each of your statements — he kisses you again, slower and more languid this time, as the two of you walk towards the bedroom, your hands reaching for each other and the walls, as you both stumble into his bedroom.

“We don’t—” he says, between kisses, “I didn’t—”

“I didn’t either, but—” you can’t stop touching him, you don’t want to, despite the logical part of you screaming at you to leave his room, it’s overridden by just how much you want him. He’s frustrating, he’s an idiot, he’s sweet, he’s cute, and he’s a little pathetic — but you liked that in a man. Every sense of logic is screaming at you to stop — but it all turns to white noise “but I don’t want to stop.”

He’s grinning as he pulls you into another kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing you against him, “That addicted already?” lips parting as he kisses down your neck, pulse jumping under his touch.

“You’re just lucky Geto didn’t get to me first,” and he furrows his brow, before his teeth graze against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from your lips, “Satoru, what was that for—”

“So everyone knows you’re mine? Including Suguru,” he’s sucking lightly at the mark, soothing his tongue, “and I’ll make sure he knows,”

“Oh, I trust you’ll be subtle,” and he’s guiding you towards his bed, both of you falling onto it, his knee pressing your legs apart, as he hovers over you, his ocean gaze dark as a storm ridden sea.

“Oh you know me, princess,” and his knee presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing against it teasingly, “subtlety is my specialty,”

“Subtle as a truck,” you murmur, and he’s laughing as he kisses you again, making your lips curl, as his hands slide up your sides, squeezing your hips, “Satoru, please,”

“What’s the fun if I don’t get to tease you?” he’s kissing needy kisses to your neck, as his knee doesn’t relent, grinding lightly against your increasingly wet core, slick leeching through the thin material of your shorts, “gotta make sure you want it right?”

“You treat all the people you bring home this well?” and he’s pausing, lips against your neck, “I didn’t mean anything—”

“You’re the first,” you stare up at him, and he’s hesitant for once when usually he’s always barreling forward, “I’ve never brought anyone here,” and he licks his lips, a deeper flush settling over his porcelain skin, “I’ve never actually—”

And you blink, “Really?”

He huffs, “Is it that surprising—”

“I mean a little, from the way everyone acts around you, and the way you act—”

“Well, ‘act’ is the key word, now isn’t it?” he’s licking his lips as he looks down at you, “it’s easy to act when you know what they expect from you — a role to play,”

“Well, the role’s been filled, so how about you just be yourself for me?” you murmur softly, a featherlight touch as you trace the curve of his jaw, and his lips find his smile under your delicate touch, “so I can ask, is this your first time like you asked me?”

And he’s leaning up to kiss you, your hand resting against his chest, his heartbeat galloping under your touch, “And if I said yes?”

You smile, before flipping him onto his back, his gaze wide as he stares up at you, “Then we better make it memorable.”

“Please, I want to—“ his soft pants left his perfect lips, chest heaving as your fingers curled around his erection, far too hard from just what you had done. You’d stripped yourself and him bare — your inhibitions left far behind — as your lips kissed the tip of his aching cock.

“Lemme make you feel good, Satoru,” you murmur, looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your fingers smearing his pre cum along his length, and he’s pressing his head into the pillow, “s’big, can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur, and you slowly pump him, drawing moan after moan from his lips.

“Won’t last long—can’t—“ he’s biting his lip, his hips thrusting into your touch, before your lips suck at his tip again, and he’s gone, cumming hard all over your face and fingers. God, it never felt that good when he touched himself. Your fingers even brushing against him made him want to cum almost instantly, your soft touch and lips were enough to send him over the edge over and over again.

He’s panting, eyes fluttering open to see you licking your lips clean with your tongue, as you meet his gaze with a grin, slowly sucking on each one of your fingers until you’ve cleaned yourself of his cum.

“Princess, fuck,” he’s lying back on the pillow, as your lips slowly kiss back up his body, your tongue dragging between the fluttering muscles of his stomach and chest.

“Already hard again?” You murmur, a smirk on your lips, “so sensitive for me,”

He’s keening at your words, a whimper leaving his lips. His eyes are blown out in pleasure as he meets your gaze, and you kiss him again, sloppy and messy, as his tongue brushes against yours, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection.

“Please,” he can’t help the words leaving his lips, “I need you,”

“Is this the first time you’ve begged for something?” You tease him, smirk on your lips as your thumb teases one of his nipples, pulling a gasp from his lips, “such a good boy,”

He hissed at your praise, “fuck—“

And you’re grinding against him, he’s already embarrassingly hard, blood rushing back to his cock as if it never left, as it drags against the all too wet fabric of your panties. And every small moan that leaves your lips leaving him needing more, his pre cum mixing with your cum that seeps through your panties, and is the second time he comes with you gonna be just grinding against each other on this bed? But he can’t help it if you keep nibbling at his neck like that, your pretty little pants in his ear, the head of his dick catching on your clit — so fucking good.

“Toru, c-close, ngh, g’nna cum—“ and he’s nodding, forcing his eyes open to watch you cum, your chest shaking, as you hover above him, your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as you said his name.

“S’good,” he’s grunting, “Cum f’me,” and you both do, the slick and stickiness between your bodies almost unbearable, as you both pant, as you rest your head against his shoulder.

The silence sinks in for a moment, as you kiss his cheek, “we can stop here if you want,” your voice is soft, nose brushing against his neck, “don’t want to make you—“

And he’s flipping you onto your back, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitching as he drags the material down your legs, and tosses it behind him, “I want this, I want you, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe it,” he leans down, breath warming your breasts through your shirt, before his lips suck at your clothed nipples, making you shiver, “you like that, huh?”

“Shut up,” your cheeks burn, but he’s only tugging your shirt over your head and off, his gaze hot as he drags his eyes down your exposed body, and it makes you squirm, “Satoru — please—“

“Now who’s the one doing the begging?” he leans down to suck on your nipple, while his fingers toy with the other between his thumb and forefinger, “I wanna learn what makes you feel good — wanna make you cum under my touch, wanna taste you,” he switches sides, his teeth grazing the skin of your breast, sucking a mark before soothing it with his tongue, “mine,”

“Satoru, fuck, I want—“ and his fingers trace down your body, making you gasp, he’s kissing down your chest and then your stomach, tongue dipping into your bellybutton, “you fucking—“

“Gotta make you feel good don’t I?” he has a shit eating grin on his lips, as he settles between your thighs, and his fingers press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “though it looks like you’re already feeling good,”

You bite back a whimper, “Are you gonna make me feel good or are you gonna keep talking—“ you moan when his thumb bears down on your needy clit, rubbing it through the nearly translucent fabric of your underwear.

“What was that, sweetheart?” And he’s snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin, “couldn’t hear you,”

“You fucker—“ and he’s kissing your clothed cunt through the wet fabric, nose brushing against your clit, making you nearly shake, as he inhales before he moans.

“So sweet, must taste even sweeter,” he murmurs before tugging your underwear down, before you’re kicking it off, making him chuckle, “so eager,” and you scowl up at him, ineffective from the way lips are parted, “you’re so cute,”

“I’m not cute,” you pout, and he’s laughing, a noise you could drown in, just as you do his eyes.

“You’re very cute, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to believe it,” and his lips press soft kisses to your thighs, “my cute bodyguard, you gonna guard my heart as well as you do my body?”

And before you can reply his breath is warming your soaked cunt, his fingers parting your folds apart, your clit was puffy, your sex slick with your mixed juices, “so pretty, this all just for me?” And you hiss as he holds your outer lips apart, “so this is what your pussy looks like, huh?” And your thighs are twitching, trying to shut, but his palms hold you apart, his heated gaze meeting your shy ones, “you’re perfect, don’t hide from me, you’ve done enough of that,” and he kisses your clit, making you moan, “and I won’t have that anymore,”

“Satoru—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping pussy experimentally, tip of his tongue flicking against your clit, fuck, how can he this good at this? Your toes are already curling as he groans, his fingers sliding under your thighs, and tugging you impossibly closer to his face. Your fingers weave into his white locks, “‘ngh—

“Be a good girl and take it,” he grunts against you, slurping your juices, the sounds of his tongue buried in your cunt, fucking you open, dragging across your walls, “taste s’fucking good, how’d I hold out this long without tasting you?” And your eyes flutter open at his groans, seeing him grind down on the sheets, so fucking horny from eating you out, “g’nna just cum from your taste alone, Princess,” you’re so incredibly soft, so soft, despite your walls being so tough, and it makes only eat you eat you from the inside out.

You’re so close, and all you hear is the sounds of his greedy tongue swallowing you whole, and the sound of your heartbeat and short gasps. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your thighs twitching under his touch, hips jolting forward to meet his touch, his tongue so fucking deep that you can’t see straight, “Toru, please, I’m so close—“

And you feel him groan into your pussy, redoubling his efforts before his fingers find your clit and rub at it while he sucks at your cunt. You cum hard, fingernails digging into his scalp, as your back arches as he eagerly eats you out through your orgasm. The wet squelch of your cunt and his tongue slurping against you, drinking every drop you offer him.

And then finally he’s pulling away with a pop, his chin and mouth dripping with your release and his spit, pink tongue darting out to clean up your cum from his face, wiping off the rest as he looked up at you from white lashed half lidded eyes.

And you can’t even speak, still coming down from your high, as he kisses up your body again, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, your fingers reaching for his cheek, tracing his jaw, before cupping his cheek.

“How the fuck do you know how to do that well?” And he flashes a pretty smile, as he drags his thumb down your lips.

“I said I was a virgin, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do some things — and as you know, I’m an excellent student,” and you huff, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m naturally good at everything,”

“And always so humble,” he laughs, before he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his sweet lips, and you’re rolling him over onto his back, his erection slick with precum, pressing against your sensitive cunt, “let me make you feel good now,” you murmur, his cock twitching against you, “wanna ride you, Toru, need you in me,”

And he’s hissing, as he moves to sit against the headboard, “You keep talking like that princess, I’m g’nna cum before you even—“ and your fingers are reaching between your bodies, and you’re stroking him, smearing his precum over the length of his shaft, making his hips jerk, “fuck—”

You’re so fucking pretty — your teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as you straddle him, hovering still, his aching tip barely brushing against your dripping cunt, “are you sure?” you murmur, eyes meeting his own, and his lips quirk into a smile.

“Never been more sure of anything,” and you sink onto him, thick length parting your folds, and he groans, as you fit him in your pussy, inch by inch, until your hips are flush. And fuck, he’s never felt anything better — pleasure runs up and down his body, as his hands find their way to your hips.

You’re tense at first, your back slightly arched, and when he shifts under you, a moan is ripped from your lips, as you begin to adjust to his size, “s’big, Toru, gonna make it hard for me to last too, feels too good,” you’re mumbling, and he’s holding his hips taut, making sure not to move — or else, he’s sure he’d cum in one stroke, “g’nna move ok?” and he’s nodding desperately, your walls already fluttering around him — slick and warm, better anything he’d ever felt.

You lift up to the tip, before beginning to rock steadily up and down, as he moans, your sweet cunt swallowing him eagerly, as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your chest bounces as you ride him, and he can’t resist leaning forward to take a hardened bud in his mouth, your moan making his cock twitch inside you. And he knows why people become addicted to sex — hell, he knew was an addict for it now, but only with you.

“Fuck, never felt anything this good before, sweetheart, feel s’perfect for me,” he’s grunting, the coil in his stomach growing tighter, as your pace grows more and more sloppy. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you from the way you were groaning his name again and again. The wet squelch and smacks of your bodies meeting again and again, only making it harder to hold back, and when he looks to see a white ring of your precum pooling around the base of his dick, he’s nearly gone, “fuck, baby, need you to cum with me,”

“It’s okay, pretty boy, cum for me,” he keens at the praise, but he’s stubborn, as you established, and he won’t cum until you do too — and so he ensures it, reaching between your bodies to rub meanly at your clit before meeting your thrusts with his own.

And his tip brushes against that spot that has your vision blurring and toes curling, “Toru, ngh, I’m—” and you’re cumming hard around him, making him spill his warm and thick seed inside your cunt, and he’s groaning you name as he does, your body slowing as you both come down from your highs, your head resting on his shoulder, as your bodies grow limp, resting, his back pressed to the headboard of his bed.

His fingers trace the curve of your back gently, as he turns his head to press soft kisses to your neck, “Am I still just a distraction?” his lips curled into a smile, and you chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Definitely,” but you lean back to cup his cheek, and look at his pretty face again, “but one worth having.”

You don’t wake from your alarm the next morning.

Instead, you wake to banging on the door. You both jolt awake, and he’s pulling you into his arms, even as you move to get up, he won’t let go, strong arms around your waist. You’re easing his arms off, trying to be gentle, “Toru, let go, and wait here, your father had a panic room installed in your closet, you hear anything, go inside—”

“No, I’m coming with you,” and you shake your head.

“I’m hired to protect you, not the other way around,” you leave his embrace, and face him, his crystal eyes blurred over with worry, “I can handle this,” you reassure him, your fingers intertwining with his, as you press a kiss to his knuckles, “I promise,”

“But—” and you kiss him gently, silencing his protests, before you slip away into the hallway.

You enter the living room, shutting the bedroom door without a sound, stalking through the hall, as you grab a knife and pepper spray from the chest of drawers that was pressed to the wall of the hallway — you had several self defense tools hidden all over the apartment. Your heartbeat thunders in your ear, mouth dry, as you approach the door from the side.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Mr. Gojo, open this door,” and you sigh, relaxing, as you check and unlock the door for him.

Shinsaku Gojo was only a man you were able to meet once before your work for him began. And it was a privilege even to see him then. His schedule was always packed — multiple meetings, multiple clients, and multiple women, all vying for his attention. Even as you spoke with him the first time, his eyes were on his phone the entire time, except when he had warned you, not to let anything distract you from protecting his son.

And you had done just that — and even worse, his son had done the distracting, “Mr—”

“Where’s my son? He hasn’t answered his phone all morning, and neither have you—didn’t you hear from your agency?” his voice is raising, as he dials your number again, and your phone vibrates on the couch. He scoffs, disconnecting the call, as his hard gaze turned back to you, “what if there was a threat? You left your phone—”

“Dad,” Satoru emerges from the room, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “it’s not her fault, she forgot it last night when we were watching a movie,”

“Watching a movie?” he sneers, his cerulean gaze the same as son, but without any of the warmth Satoru had — an icy tundra compared to a warm pool, “she should be watching you, that’s her job—”

“She was watching me — something you never bothered to do,” and his father’s eyes narrow, “she’s shown more concern for me than you ever had — and she only met me a few weeks ago. What’s your excuse for being a pathetic piece of—“

“Satoru,” your fingers brush his shoulder, shaking your head, “sir, I take responsibility for this lapse of judgment. Don’t blame your son,”

Satoru lowers his voice, “it’s not your fault—“

“It is. I disregarded by duty to protect you,” your cheeks burn with shame — “what if i had missed an alert you were in danger? What if I failed to protect you because I wasn’t focused? What if—“

“Nothing happened,” he says softly, and the twitch of his fingers tells you he’s gonna reach for you, but you step forward, shaking your head.

“Nothing did,” and you turn to his father, “I’ll protect Satoru until you can find a suitable replacement for me. But I compromised my mission to protect him. I would like to resign as soon as possible,”

“No! I—“

“Agreed,” his father says, “I’ll have your replacement here in an hour, make sure you’re packed up by then,” and his father leaves without another word.

You brush past him to gather your things, but he’s caught you by the wrist, “Why did you do—“

“Gojo,” and you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of keeping you safe—“

“I don’t care—“ you cut him off.

“I do, I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because of me. What it was an emergency last night and you got hurt because of my own carelessness—“

“It wasn’t careless what happened last night—“

“It was,” you say, walking to your room, “and it won’t happen again.”

You left. You had expected a fight, an argument, a dramatic show of tears — but nothing. Satoru hadn’t even opened his door to watch you leave. The other bodyguard arrived quickly, and you left the penthouse and didn’t look back.

It was for the best.

You had a duty, a role to play, and more than that, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of your inability to compartmentalize. Even so, Satoru’s father was kind enough not to have told your father what happened — or you supposed it was pity in exchange for your quick and easy resignation.

Fuck. Why were you still thinking about this? You rolled over in bed, burying your head under your comforter. A week out, and you still couldn’t stop worrying about Satoru, about his safety, about the hurt on his face, about that night…

You had fucked everything up, and fucked Satoru up in the aftermath.

You poke your head out, and stare at your phone on your bedside table — 7:45 PM, no new messages — you had written out six different messages to him again and again, before deleting them. You wondered how many more you’d write before you finally would rid your mind of him.

Would you ever rid your mind of him?

And that’s when your phone rings. But it’s not flashing Satoru’s number — it’s his father. You scramble for the phone — why was he calling? And you can only think of one reason. You can’t say a single word when you pick up — his father already hissing his first question.

“Where is he?” your words are lodged in your throat, stuck on your heart that had leapt from your chest.

“What?”

“Where’s Satoru? He came to you didn’t he?” he growls, and you hear a slam, assumedly his fist against his desk, “he shook off his new bodyguard, and his phone is off,”

“He hasn’t — I haven’t talked to him since I left—” your mind is running a mile a minute, racking your brain, placing the call on speakerphone, as you text Satoru, where are you? “Where did the bodyguard see him last?”

“He had him at the dorms, he said he was going to see a friend, and then gave him the slip,” his father groans, “you hear anything from him, otherwise—”

“I’ll let you know,” you cut him off at the threats — you had more important things to do. You checked your messages, but your messages hadn’t gone through, and you tried calling him — but it went straight to voicemail. Satoru was upset — he could’ve blocked you or turned off his phone to piss off his father, but you didn’t see him doing that. He was an idiot, but he knew his father would lose his shit.

And then you remembered. The tracker you placed on Satoru — you never took it off. You had sewed it into the insole of his daily shoes (the man had far too many clothes and shoes, but he rarely found the energy to not wear anything besides the shoes he always wore).

You turned it on, biting your lip as you watched the tracker loaded, and his location popped up — and it wasn’t at his apartment.

It was in Shibuya — you typed in the address and he was at a house.

You furrow your brow, who did he know who lived in Shibuya? And then it clicked.

Fuck.

Those girls.

Satoru groaned, fuck, why is his head hurting so badly?

It wasn’t exactly unusual the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping much since you left, he spent most of his nights watching TV and rotting in his bed. But everything reminded him of you — his bed, his couch, and even the shows he watched (he had continued one of the shows you both had started one late night).

His apartment was a disaster — a mess of empty soda cans, empty wrappers of candy and old takeout containers. But he couldn’t be bothered with it — to clean it up or call someone to clean it up. His bodyguard had taken up residence in your room — or rather the guest room — and hardly emerged, keeping an eye on him through cameras his father had installed around the doors and hallway.

Not that he really needed to, Satoru rarely left his apartment, even had skipped classes for a week — sending an email that he had a very contagious illness and that he’d be happy to attend class if necessary. They sent him materials to work on classwork from home, piled untouched on his kitchen counter, with a possible smudge from the hot fudge he had last night.

He had made progress — instead of staying in bed, he moved onto the couch for his afternoon nap, and he had just fallen asleep when there was a banging on his door. He groaned into the couch pillow he had just gotten comfortable on, before pulling it onto his head, trying to block out the sounds of the knocking.

“Satoru! Open up,” he hears Suguru’s voice through the door, “open the fucking door, I know you’re not sick,”

He pulls himself up, groaning, as he wipes the small amount of drool from his lips, as he meanders to the door, throwing it open.

“You look like shit,” Suguru says, brushing past him to enter.

“No ‘hello, you look like shit?’” He mumbles, still rubbing his eyes, “what are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that,” he stands, hands in his pockets, as he takes in the mess with a wrinkled nose, “although I see you’ve decided to redecorate,”

“Hilarious,” Satoru replies, lying back on the couch, “did you come here just to hassle me?”

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t part of it, but the other was to see if you’re ready to pick yourself back up after your breakup—“

“It wasn’t a breakup,” Satoru snaps.

“If it wasn’t, then why does it look like you haven’t showered in several days since she left?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, and Satoru scowls.

“I’m sick,” he turns away to face the couch, “I don’t have the energy to shower,”

“But you have the energy to eat about half a dozen mochi doughnuts?” Suguru holds up an empty doughnut box, and Satoru holds a couch pillow to his chest, “Satoru, come on, it isn’t like you to wallow like this,”

“I’m not wallowing—“

“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick, right?” Suguru says sarcastically. Satoru doesn’t need to look at his best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes, “well you don’t seem like you’re sneezing or coughing so go take a shower or something,” Satoru gives a weak fake cough, and he could feel Suguru’s glare, “fine, rot in bed, but you have to get up sometime, just text me when you’re ready to,”

And Satoru hears Suguru’s footsteps recede to the door, swinging shut with a click behind him. He buries his face in the pillow. It wasn’t a break up. How could it be when you didn’t even have a relationship to begin with? You had made that clear enough when you left without another word to him. He didn’t leave his room until he heard the door shut behind you, and he made his way out to watch you leave out the front door of the apartment. And you didn’t even look back. But you weren’t the type to.

He felt like he was always looking back — one way or another.

And even now, as he came to — he was trying to remember what he had done after Suguru left. Someone else had shown up — knocked at his door. Offered to get him out of the house — offered him free alcohol and a distraction.

And he had agreed — if only to forget about you for a moment. Drinking was the only thing that made him forget — if he only could somehow forget how terrible alcohol tasted.

His head spun, so was this a hangover? It’s certainly worse than the one he had before — the last one felt like his brain was fuzzy and nausea clawed at his stomach — this time, it felt more akin to someone taking a blender to both of those organs. And his neck, he stretched it both ways. How had he fallen asleep?

And then he tried to lift up his hand to rub his eyes, and he couldn't, wrist straining against something — his brow furrowed, what was arm caught on — and his eyes fluttered open. It was dark — the only light came from another room, peeking through the crack at the bottom of, what he assumed was, a door. And then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked at his arms.

Ropes. Twisted around both his arms, binding his wrists and forearms to the arms of a chair, and his vision blurs — what? His legs jerk instinctively, but ropes dig into the flesh of his ankles, and he glanced down only to find what he expected.

“You’re awake,” the light flicks on, he lifts his head, blinking away the fog in his head and the burning tears slipping from his eyes, “didn’t realize the drug would knock you out for that long,”

He blinks again and again, light flooding his eyes, until he can see and sees a familiar face — “Misaki?” the light sends a piercing jolt through his head, “or is it Yumiko?”

“Well that’s flattering, you can’t even remember my name?” she sighs, crossing her arms, “well I unfortunately don’t have the same luxury,” and then she adds with a quirk of her lips, “it is Yumiko,” and she steps forward, as his eyes squeeze shut, his head still banging, “sorry what I gave you to knock you out can cause some light sensitivity,”

It’s slowly sinking in, “I don’t know what kind of weird kink you have, but I’m not interested,” and she scoffs, pressing her knuckles to her chin, “where am I?”

“Do you think I’m really going to tell you that?” she raises an eyebrow, “I did send you threats after all, you don’t think I’d be that stupid to tell you where I am,”

He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way to get out of here, and to do that, he needed time, “What? Are you obsessed with me or something? Do you want my body?”

“I’m going to stop your overinflated ego there,” she sighs, leaning against a table that was behind her, “I have a debt to pay and you’re the price,”

“Debt?” he repeats, “is this where you explain your whole plan? And villain speech? Because I usually I could care less, but I’m feeling a little generous with my time, as I’m a little tied up at the moment, so—”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“It’s known to happen on occasion,” she rubs her temples, and then something occurs to him, “how did you get my address? You showed up and invited me,”

She shakes his head, “You think I couldn’t find out your address after sending you threats?” and she sighs, “You know this is why I tried to do this at the first party — get it over with so I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But then you crushed your beer cup, your little girlfriend got in the way, and that idiot Misaki accidentally switched her shot glass with yours, so I couldn’t get you dosed,” she grits her teeth, “and then the rest of the semester, your girlfriend was up your ass the entire time — but she wasn’t your girlfriend was she? She was your bodyguard,” he says nothing, “you don’t need to confirm it for me, I already found her information, her name, her address—”

“What do you want? Money? My father will pay anything to get me back. Tell me who you need to repay and he’ll do it,” and her lips curl.

“So serious now — and so cooperative, maybe I should have kidnapped her too while I was at it,” she shrugs, while she grabs her phone from the table — a burner — “my father will be here to escort you to where you need to go. The yakuza will take it from there,” his blood runs cold, “Don’t cause a fuss and i can promise your girlfriend will stay safe,”

He grits his teeth — he was so stupid. This was exactly the kind of shit you were trying to protect him from. And it was the thing he landed himself in the moment you left. But he didn’t care — because it was better this way, because you were safe this way.

“Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re all quiet,” and she’s walking over, and he’s flinching as she drags a manicured nail down his cheek, before tilting it up, “it’s just that mouth that’s a problem,” and her thumb brushes down his lips, “don’t bite, or we might have a problem,”

And he doesn’t, but then he smiles back, “you might like it when I bite,” he smirks, “why don’t you come here and find out?” And she raises her eyebrows, leaning closer, and he smashes his forehead into hers, “fuck off,”

She stumbles back, losing her balance, and leaning against the table as she clutches at her forehead. Satoru watches her, trying to wriggle out of his constraints, rope chafing against his skin, red welts rising on his skin, but he only manages to get one hand free before she’s starting to get her bearings, and then he’s trying to free himself, his chair tipping over. And now he’s lying helplessly as she stumbles forward over to him, clutching a knife she grabbed off the table.

“I have to hand you over to the yakuza, but they didn’t say you had to be completely unharmed,” she presses the tip of the knife to his cheek, “maybe we’ll do something to that pretty face of yours,” he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.

CRACK.

He hears a body slump over, and the clatter of the knife against the cement floor, and his eyes open to find you kneeling beside him. He’s blinking, murmuring your name, “What are you—”

“Well I never did remove that tracker did I?” You’re cutting the ropes on his wrists and ankles with the knife, “and I’m lucky you wear the same damn shoes everyday,”

“Why did you come for me?” he says, as you finally free him his restraints, your fingers gentle as they examine the welts and bruises left on his skin, “you could have just told my father where I was or the police,”

“I could’ve. I saw where you were and I figured it out—“ and your voice wavers, “but all I could think was that I wanted to find you. And I didn’t wanna wait for anyone else. I didn’t want something to happen just because someone else was too slow,” the lump in your throat grows only larger, as you sit, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,”

“Why?” he asks softly, his fingers brush against your cheek, and he knows why — he does, but he needs to hear it.

“Because I just want…to be the one to protect you,” you admit, tears burning at your eyes, as your thumb traces over his rope burns and bruises, “I wish that I could have,”

“You did a pretty good job, considering I almost was about to get my face cut up,” and he gently wipes your tears away, “imagine what a tragedy that would be,”

You give a watery chuckle, cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” and he opens his mouth, “no i really am. I shouldn’t have slept with you, only to cut and run after. I thought…I thought I was doing you a favor,”

“How?” And you sigh, blinking away your tears.

“I put your life in danger by doing that. I couldn’t do that. I knew the only way you’d let me go is…if I lied to you and said I didn’t care about you,” you bite your bottom lip, “and I’m sorry because I only hurt you more in the end,”

He kisses your lips gently, chastely, his breath warming your lips as he parts from them, “you did,” and you scoff, pushing him playfully, “but as long as you promise not to do it again, I think I can find it in my incredibly generous heart to forgive you,”

You kiss him again, softly, your fingers sliding to the back his neck, into his undercut, “I promise,” and he grins, before leaning back to kiss you again, when a cough behind you catches your attention.

“My father will be getting here shortly you idiots, while you gaze fucking stupidly into each other’s eyes,” she sneers, and you raise an eyebrow.

“You think I’d come here without calling the police? They already have picked up your father — and they should be almost here—“ and the sounds of an ambulance and police sirens come into earshot.

“Good timing,” Satoru mutters, as Yumiko tries and fails to stumble to her feet, and you get up and pin her to the ground. Satoru raises an eyebrow, and watches, as you glance back at him, tilting your head in question, “nothing, it’s just…hot to see you in action,”

You laugh, “Did she hit your head too?” And he shrugs, as he gets onto this feet with shaky legs, “Satoru—“

And he sits next to you, leaning on your shoulder, “just let me rest here for a minute,” he mumbles.

For the first time since you left, Satoru felt like he could finally rest.

And Satoru did rest, he realized as he blinked awake to the ambient sounds of the hospital room, the distinct beep of the heartbeat monitor, the dim light of the moon filtering through the shades, and the distant sounds of people walking through the hall. He hears the sounds of sheets rustling, and his gaze snaps over to his left.

His gaze softens. You were fast asleep beside him, your arms tucked under your head, your breaths were soft, as they were the night you two had spent together. He sat himself up — fingers running through your hair gently. You had fallen asleep before him that night, face buried in the crook of his neck, and your legs entangled with his. And now you slept beside him on a chair, leaning on his bedside.

His fingers carded through your hair again, and you stirred, as he swore under his breath, your eyes fluttered open, “Toru?” you mumbled, still half asleep, and he hummed.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighed softly, “why are you sleeping here? You should have gone home,” you sit up, stretching, as you furrow your brow, eyes scanning him for any sign of an injury or distress.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay — you were unconscious, but no concussion thankfully. I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake,” you sigh, words tumbling out almost faster than you can think of them, “they mostly kept you for observation, but are you feeling okay? Should I get the nurse—“

And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you, as he sighs, burying his face in your neck, “I just want to stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, “I got everything I need right here, got it?” He feels you nod, and he feels the hint of your tears on his skin, but says nothing, only his lips quirk, “you did mean your promise?”

“I did, I won’t leave like that again,” and he’s leaning back, head tilted, and you chuckle, “I mean I won’t leave you at all, how’s that?”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and his heart squeezes when he hears your breath hitch as he does. His eyes flicker to your lips and back, “can I kiss—“

But you kiss him first, softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, and god, why was it that a single touch from you melted him away to nothing? Whittled his world view to a pin where all he could feel, all he could see, was you.

And then you kiss his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and then your teeth graze the soft part of his neck, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips, as you suck lightly on his skin.

He’s whispering your name, breath sucked from his lungs as if your teeth had pierced through his throat instead of just his skin, “what was that for?”

And you smile, “so everyone knows you’re mine.”

“You’re changing your major?” Suguru raises his eyebrow, as he lounges on Satoru’s couch, holding his head up with his elbow propped against the top of the couch, “your father must’ve been thrilled about that,”

“He lost his shit, but that geezer can fuck off,” Satoru shrugs, “he threatened to not pay my tuition, but once I threatened to go public with his dealings with the yakuza, he saw it my way,”

Suguru tilts his head, “His what?”

You bring over tea from the kitchen, placing it on the table, “After what Satoru found out from Yumiko and her father, their debt to the yakuza would have been paid off by kidnapping one of Satoru’s father’s close relatives, but I was wondering why was the yakuza so eager to do so?”

“Apparently my old man had the brilliant idea of entertaining the yakuza on some deal he was making,” Satoru explains, leaning back on the couch, as you sit against his legs, “and when he backed out, the yakuza wanted to push it through anyway — and well, thus their blackmail of Yumiko’s father, once they found out his daughter went to school with me.”

“Yeah, turns out her father had gambling debts owed to the yakuza,” you sighed, “she got caught in the crossfire — I almost feel bad,”

“Speak for yourself, she drugged me, tied me to a chair, and held a knife to my face,” Satoru scoffs, sipping his tea that he had you drown in sugar.

“Well you didn’t complain when I did that last night,” you reply, making both Satoru and Suguru choke, and you laughed, squealing when Satoru lifts you into his lap to bury his face into your back.

“You two are officially sickening to be around,” Suguru grimaces, still coughing from choking down his tea, “I think I liked it better when he was wasting away in his apartment,”

“You wasted away after I left?” You turn to look at Satoru, who shoots a glare at Suguru, “sorry Geto, that’s not happening again,” and Satoru softens his gaze, pressing a kiss to your head.

“Alright, that’s it, I’m leaving,” Suguru gets to his feet, as he glances back at you two, “don’t rush to get up, I’ll see myself out,” he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t worry we weren’t going to,” Satoru pulls you closer, and Suguru narrows his eyes, before his lips curl into a grin.

“Just for that, I’m sending your girlfriend a picture of the mess you looked like when she left,” Satoru gapes at him, while you bite back a laugh.

“Suguru!” Satoru calls, but the door’s shut, and you’re starting to giggle. He’s pouting now, “so my girlfriend thinks it's funny to see me in the pathetic state she left me in?”

“Oh your girlfriend finds it very funny, and she might even make it her boyfriend’s contact picture,” you smirk, and he’s biting back a smile, “What?”

“This is just the first time we called each other that,” he mumbles, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, “it’s nice,” he admits.

“Well, I am yours, aren’t I?” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips, as he would again and again.

“My one and only.”

✧ a/n: so this fic was so freaking long. i'm sorry it took so long to post this - i got a little sidetracked by prof geto haha. but i'm hoping to start on the next one soon :). i think i'll put a poll up on which one i should write next! edit: forgot to tag the people who requested this, its now added in T_T

✧ taglist: @teatreeoilll, @intrxspectiv, @marvel-fanaticz, @ilovemybabes, @lwustyz, @jayathelostdragon, @vampzys, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @soilmayo, @iwassentfromhell, @lobotomy-kaisen, @gojoallmine, @forest-hashira, @h3artpiecexx, @lailarratx, @gummibat, @hanlay, @ilovewoo9, @nvmlolo, @h6avenly, @eriyvesa, @alexandraioann4, @eclipsephase, @sokkasmoon, @aizzon, @makotome9, @daddytojji, @fluffy-pancakes01, @imjustmememe, @spookyy-gracee, @forest-fruits-jam, @that-goth-bisexual, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @lookinreality,

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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jaspvids · 1 month

Text

The Diagnosis Of David

Disclaimer: I am by no means a mental health professional. This is just a meta-analysis.

What do we think of when we think of David?

His values of kindness. Optimism. Hope. Conviction. Passion. His drive to do his best every single day. The way he always makes an effort to reach out to others.

But also:

Attachment issues. People pleaser. Rose-colored glasses wearer. And at times, though the fandom doesn’t want to acknowledge it — Selfish. Unstable. Rude. Hypocritical. Kind of a dick.

See this video I made;

He’s complex, so let’s try to unpack him, and figure out what he’s got going on under that floof.

On David’s Childhood

David has been through a number of traumatic events in his childhood, most notably:

Witnessing Jasper fall to his near-death.

Finding Jasper, and being almost mauled by bears during the escape.

Clown school was apparently very bad, given the flashback-like reaction he had when it was mentioned. I’m unsure of his age when this occurred, however.

The fight with Jasper at the cave before they parted ways.

Losing Jasper. He says Cameron told him he was picked up by his parents, but I’m not convinced it’s not just his mind trying to erase painful memories.

As far as what we don’t necessarily see in the show, but can infer, David’s father was either not present or not great. He dreamt Cameron was his real father, as seen below.

And we all know Cameron is an awful father figure to begin with.

Yet, that’s better to David, apparently, than whatever he had at home. Which implies it was likely a pretty bad situation.

This can also be backed up by his attachment to the camp — growing up (and even now) it seems to be more of a home to him than his actual home.

That’s a home that hasn’t ever been mentioned, by the way. Contrary to Gwen, we know absolutely nothing about his family. He hasn’t talked about them once, if I recall correctly.

David is often open with emotions, if not wearing his heart on his sleeve. So why would he never mention his family and home?

We know why.

Even as an adult, he has retained this attachment to Cameron (who has in turn, continued to use this attachment to his benefit). He gets very excited about helping Cameron change in “keep the change” — because he needs to believe people who hurt him can get better. Otherwise, it’s too painful to bear.

The Loss Of Jasper

Part of his childhood, but significant enough to warrant its own section.

Jasper and David had a very interesting relationship. We’ve seen in the past that David was pessimistic, foulmouthed, and hot-tempered, directly compared to an optimistic, peppy, popular Jasper.

But then Jasper saw Cameron’s real self, and David received a modicum of praise for what was likely the first time based on his reaction. And so, they basically did somewhat of a switcheroo.

(David takes on many traits of Jasper after this experience, showing that he does admire him at the end of the day. I believe these traits are the foundation of David’s many masks.)

Despite the whole shebang, further episodes show us that they form a strong bond (or maintain one, we don’t know what happened before the first Jasper and David episode.)

What makes this friendship especially crucial in David’s development is that I believe Jasper was the first person to truly stand up for David.

David is, as we have seen, easily manipulated. Jasper picks up on this, and knowing Cameron’s just trying to use his best friend, tries to take Cameron down.

Jasper essentially died trying to protect David.

If Jasper hadn’t died, I don’t think David would have ended up as gullible and dependent as he is. If he had the more rational and realistic Jasper by his side during the rest of his developmental years, I believe things would have ended up much, much differently.

With Jasper’s death, there seems to be nobody else at camp who knows of Cameron’s crimes, or possibly, doesn’t want to speak out about them. Nobody to stand up for him. Nobody to redirect him.

So there’s nobody to stop the unhealthy-attachment-train from picking up speed.

Cameron And David’s Relationship

Cameron is manipulative and abusive towards David. This even becomes physical:

Despite this, David continues to idolize him as is seen in many cases of abuse. He works his ass off maintaining Cameron’s camp. Cameron’s approval makes or breaks him, because this is the man he sees as a father, unfortunately.

In addition, David is unable to let go of the hope that Cameron can change, because he’s convinced himself that deep down Cameron is still “good”, based on his skewed perception of him. And we all know how that ended.

But as Diane from Bojack Horseman once said —

And that is David’s problem — he wants so much for there to be a “deep down”, that there will be a day where Cameron showers him with praise and throws signed adoption forms at him, etcetera.

He judges Cameron not on who he actually is, but who he wants him to be. And so, the unhealthy attachment remains.

(Which is, of course, incredibly destructive to his mental health.)

Other Things We Know About His Mental Health, From Canon

We know he takes meds.

We know he has (sometimes dissociative) panic attacks.

We know he has been seen to suddenly snap, even to the point of violence.

My Final Conclusion: C-PTSD

(As the trauma has been not just one event, but many over the course of his life, and among other reasons, I believe CPTSD fits better than PTSD.)

David meets much of the criteria, most notably:

Lack of emotional regulation

Dissociation

Flashbacks

Anxiety

Guilt and shame

Distorted perception of abuser

Relationship difficulties

Okay this was long I’m tired good night.

#camp camp #camp camp david #cc david

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bllk-hq · 8 months

Note

Ooh, wait! What would headcanons of Leona, Ruggie, Riddle, Azul, and Jamil with a fem reader who cooks and bakes delicious food for them everyday but does something extra special for them on special occasions such as their birthday or Valentine's Day?

twst boyfriend headcanons

~ cooking/baking for a B-DAY/Valentines Day ♡ pure fluff / gn. reader

[c] ࣪⋆་ ˖ . ︶⏝︶⏝ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⏝︶⏝︶ . ˖ ་⋆ ࣪

-[i] ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ း " Such a cute prompt (≧◡≦)!! I luv 💝 "

pairing] Leona, Ruggie, Riddle, Azul, & Jamil cw] . none

Leona -

He can't help but smile to himself. A sense of pride washed over him as you gave him a pastry.

Leona defiantly loves being token care of. Basically getting stuff is his go to. Without even him thinking about it, the second you give it to him- hes already half done eating.

This lousy lion probably is going to want more of your baking so beware. Leona would probably hang out in the vicinity when you are in the kitchen baking. Sometimes even peeking his into the room to see what your doing.

He would probably want to gate keep your baking from everyone else too.

But since he is not too much of a sweets type of person, he would request you to make at least something with protein in it.

I also could see Leona using the fact the you cook for him everyday as a flex on others. With him flexing on how your able to make delicious food for him- and would remind others of how lucky he is to have you. Reminding of everyone that their single.

He also is your taste tester for every dish that you make. Basically Leona is your very own kitchen cat who sits there and just watches you bake- or at least cook.

Leona hasn't told anyone this, but he pondered on the thought of wanting to make a special Afterglow Savanna cuisine for you- but he remembered that how long it would take.. and since he is lazy he shut down the idea. And instead he had everyone else in his dorm do it. Then after he would claim that he made your favorite dish.

Ruggie -

Pretty sure this hyena would appreciate any gift you give him! But he would love it even more if it was in the food category. Lucky for him you make him the most delicious food in all of 'Twisted Wonderland'!

And it's for him? Extra bonus points! Ruggie could never get over you baking stuff for him. He's used to giving people what they wanted, it's nice to have a sudden change.

Speaking of 'bonus points', this man would be so happy if you give him doughnuts. He would be over the moon basically. Ruggie would also ask if you could make food for him more often.

It has came to a point where he is constantly asking if you can make him food, where you have now became his personal chef.

This hyena boy is already so obsessed that his mind has now comprehended the certain smell of your cooking. He may also get a little annoyed when you give certain foods like the doughnuts that you would always give him- to other people. Ruggie wants to gatekeep your cooking forever.

Such as, if you both are in a public place like the Savannaclaw lobby- he would try and be sneaky and hide your baking from everyone else in the dorm.

Which doesn't help that much being how everyone in Savannaclaw has strong noses and big appetites. But he tries to hide it using his jacket, which wasn't the best idea because he got pounced on by Cheka when he came to vista his uncle.

Which not only cause Ruggie to get attention from everyone in the same room- but the whole dorm. Thanks to Cheka and his loud, cheery voice, Ruggie was getting mauled for doughnuts.

"S/O!- Err- Y/N! the box kinda'-" just then as Ruggie shout, Cheka ran off with the box of doughnuts. Originally only meant for him, as his valentines gift.

Riddle -

Riddle kind of just stands there and doesn't know what to do. Thoughts going through his head left and right, with him trying to analyze the situation.

You would probably have to repeat again that the food you made- is for him.

He would smile lightly, to himself as he would take the food that you made for him. Except he probably wont eat it until later, and wait until lunch or after school.

Riddle is really appreciative of anything that you give him, food, clothes, etc.

Without probably even him knowing, he's blushing and smiling like a little boy on Christmas. And would get teased by his dormmates later on about this.

He lowkey feels special about you baking him food on special occasions. It feels not longer like a made up scenario that would be in a book.

"Y/N, thank you so much for giving me..." He pauses as he looks inside of the pastry box you gave him. "A strawberry tart?!" Riddle's eyes shine as he looks at the tart.

His smiles widens as he looks back at you with a huge thankful smile. "Trey must have gave you the idea.. I feel bad for not being humble about this. But enough said, and thank you."

Riddle is probably the only one that can fully determine the difference between how you and Trey make tarts.

Even if you both would use the same recipe, Riddle somehow can always tell the difference. Which would either be through the flavor or the smell of thee strawberries. It's confusing really.

He would probably try and make you something in return either next Valentines day or your birthday.

Azul-

Gets very cocky. Azul would talk louder and start thanking you for the pastry that you are giving to him. The only reasons he's doing this is because he wants to make everyone jealous and show you off about how you take great care of him.

He probably is still exaggerating for the next 5 minutes. But his plan worked since people are glaring at him with jealousy. And it gets pretty awkward for you in a number of seconds.

Azul is also lowkey impressed with the your cooking ability. But he is not complaining. He likes having someone cook for him everyday since he is usually busy with the Mostro Lounge and being a dorm leader, causing him to sometimes forget to eat.

He usually prefers if you give him food in private since he doesn't always want unwanted jealousy and nasty looks from people. Floyd also gets whiny when he sees you babying Azul with food.

Though during sometimes when people are around and he's not trying to make everyone jealous, he turns a little quieter and smiles whole heartedly.

It's favorite when you just randomly give him a pastry when he works. It strangely makes him work more absorbed in his work before. Very helpful when he losses attention.

Azul also secretly wants to know some of your recipes from the food you make so he can add it as a new dish for the Mostro Lounge. He may also 'joke' around by saying that you should become a chef and work for him.

Azul also now can't leave your pastries that you gave to him, out in the open because Floyd will just end up eating all of them.

Jamil-

He really wouldn't know what to say. To him it slowly starts to get awkward because of previous attempted food poisoning incidents toward Kalim.

So he would closely inspect the baked goods and the box, with his eyes.

He's really not used to getting self-made food from anyone except for Kalim, so it's really special to him.

I could also see him wanting to cook with you sometimes.

But anyways he trust you enough so that you wouldn't poison him.

He would definitely want to share his food with you, he'll feel bad if he didn't.

Hence, if the food you made for him was self made, Jamil insists on helping you clean the kitchen if you haven't already.

Gets very happy when you spoil him with food though, and would want to bring some pastries or cooked meals too his family.

Also likes too call you his "Personal Chief".

Najima also loves your cooking/pastries too the point where she now has a habit of stealing Jamil's share of the food. They had a whole war because of this by the way.

(Jamil couldn't stop smiling the whole day).

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #twst fanfic #riddle rosehearts x reader #jamil viper x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader

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vacantfields · 2 months

Text

Things Are Better AU MASTER POST!

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vacantfields

TAB AU: Singing Voices Spotify Playlist

YOU ARE ALLOWED TO: Draw, Write, etc with these guys! (ASK ABOUT NSFW !)(AND remember to credit me!!)

(I will attempt to use the tags as best as i can!! Do also note that things can change in this AU but this is the best place you can go look honestly)

[ In this AU, Sun, Eclipse, and Moon have gotten new bodies, some that are way more humanoid. Technically, they are not animatronics anymore, but the Pizzaplex they live at still deems them as such! They are also all separated; most importantly, THEY ARE NOT BROTHERS. They are best friends! (Sun and Moon, however, seem closer than that.) ]

[ It is set in the 20XX! The date doesn't matter. ]

[ The Location of this thriving Pizzaplex is in the heart of a big city, and the rest of the animatronics have gotten slight upgrades but have remained the same. Sun and Moon still run the Daycare. Eclipse stands as the security guard for the Daycare (Moon also still goes on patrols, as well). They live in the Daycare too! The layout is (sorta) the same as the original Pizzaplex. The boys can leave the place, but they must tell their handler or whoever runs the place how long they will be gone. The virus from the game is not here, BUT a virus is in this! It's highly aggressive and should be avoided at all costs. Moon used to have a virus, but most got removed from him when they moved into these bodies, although some of the virus remains in his code. Eclipse has a different virus embedded in him, and he cannot remember how he acted before; it basically wiped his personality, so now he's somewhat unpredictable. ]

They have humanoid/android bodies

The original body along with their personality chips were created in the middle of the 90s

Moon got his virus in 95 or so but they couldn't fully remove it as they would have to reset him and thats a chore plus it wasn't too dangerous so they moved the guys into separate bodies and it fixed most of it

the story is set in 20XX

The location is in a big city

They have been in the new bodies for around 5 years

The fire, gregory, etc. Did not happen here!

The virus Eclipse was made by some people who wanted to use the animatronics to attack people and make sure that fazbear would shut down

They are not the same guys from the game BUT they do act a lot like them! (kinda)

They used to share a body (Eclipse just being a security setting in them)

Moon has remains of a violent virus

Eclipse has the virus embedded in his code

Eclipse cannot remember who he was before the virus

The virus is not sentient... OR... Is it?

Despite not having the virus, Sun is not handling being alone in his head. His unstable and unused security program snaps in when he has breakdowns and makes his head think it's Moon talking to him.

Sun was the first personality chip then it was Moon and then Eclipse

Other facts

The virus does NOT like the color red on bodies. (Do not wear a red shirt or anything alike that around Eclipse he will attack and KILL.)(Though if they care about you he will hold back from mauling)

They cannot eat BUT! They can taste things!

Their face plates can still spin

They can still use the wire to "fly" around if they wish

They have a secondary voice box that they use for when they talk with people outside of the Daycare/or go out!

In the Daycare they use the "Canon" voice

They can also perform at "Adult Nights" at the pizzaplex, which consists of them singing on stage while the adults drink and so on.

Moon is the only one who actively performs so you can catch him in the evenings on stage!

They are all very flexible... And they can dance (;

They can also talk with each other through a shared headspace (like a group chat)

The old body is stored somewhere in the plex

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ SUN ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊

He/They/We | 8'5" / 256cm | Daycare Attendant

[ Sun is a happy go lucky guy who hides a lot of his other emotions and sometimes they tumble in! He gets angry, he gets sassy, he gets upset, etc. !! ]

Secondary Voice (singing):

Without A Whisper | Sleepless Deathbed | Reverie

(Invent Animate)

----------

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ MOON ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

He/They/We | 8'5" / 256cm | Naptime Attendant / Performer

[ Moon is your day to day gremlin. Crawling up walls and spider-walking across the floor in the darkness. Though he does easily get flustered if youre close enough to him! ]

Secondary Voice (singing):

Secret Scream | That Death Cannot Touch | No Accusations

(The Black Queen)

----------

☾✴ ๋࣭ ⭑ ECLIPSE ☾✴ ๋࣭ ⭑

He/They/We | 9'4" / 284cm | Security for the Daycare

[ Eclipse is a wild card. You never know if you can trust what comes out of his mouth but he seems docile for now ]

Secondary Voice (singing):

Broken Inside | Forevermore | Clouded Son

(Broken Iris)

----------

(Hopefully this made some sort of sense... I will probably edit here and there but (: !!)

#Things Are Better AU #TAB AU #TAB AU Sun #TAB AU Moon #TAB AU Eclipse #dca fandom #dca au #daycare attendant #naptime attendant #androids #robots #animatronics

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travlersjoy444 · 1 year

Note

2012 Donnie with a secret human friend who he gets caught hanging out with by one of his brothers? I

Hm, good idea

'Cuz We Need Secrets

2012 Donatello x reader

It's pretty platonic, but one could read it as like an early stage of friends to lovers if they want to. In the text though it doesn't go anywhere past friendship. It's in Don's POV, and Donnie gets he/they pronouns. The reader's gender/pronouns aren't mentioned as per usual.

Work count: 3.1k

Warnings: Light angst, the age-old 2012 Donnie vs insecurity conflict, light swearing, a mentioned past crush on April

Donatello Hamato had not meant to befriend another human. Honestly, April and Casey were plenty as it was. More than plenty, actually, in Casey’s case sometimes.

In fact, they hadn’t even meant to befriend you in the first place, actually.

And yet here he was, sneaking you into the lair at three in the morning.

Hey, it wasn’t his fault that you were curious, and as a man of science, curiosity was something he highly encouraged!

“Ooh-kay, so you really weren’t joking about the ‘living in a sewer’ thing, huh?” you whistled, sounding more fascinated than judgemental as he opened the manhole cover. “I’ll admit it Dee, I almost believe you about the ninja thing now.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Oh yeah, ‘cause it’s the ninja-ing that’s unbelievable, not the mutant turtle thing.”

“Look, it’s New York! Mutant reptiles are a dime a dozen, bro. Ever seen Godzilla?” you teased.

Donnie snorted. “That takes place in Tokyo, actually.”

“Eh, it’s a big city. Same difference.” you said with a shrug, sticking your hands in your pockets casually- as if talking to a giant talking turtle was something completely normal for you.

Eh, he supposed it was, at this point. But he also knew for a fact that you had not been this chill when he first met you… But then again. That one was kinda on them, seeing as they were the one who showed up in your house unprompted.

(It hadn’t been personal! He’d needed a hiding place and your window had been open! You were basically asking for a mutant turtle teen to break in.)

(And apparently, he had basically been asking for a human teenager to hit him with a frying pan. Okay, he had maybe deserved that one.)

(Nonetheless, it had all worked out and you guys were buddies now! Yaaaay!)

“-onnie? Don? Don-tron? Dee, ya there?” you said, waving a hand in front of his face, effectively snapping him out of exposition mode.

“-huh? Oh, right, sewers, yeah.” Donnie grinned sheepishly. “Me first or you first?”

“Oh you, definitely. If there’s like, a sewer monster down there, I’d prefer to not be the one mauled by it.” you said definitively.

Donnie bit their tongue to keep from making a comment about how technically he was a sewer monster. He didn’t want you to think of him as a monster, regardless of how lighthearted the context was.

Honestly, it was so nice how you just treated them like a normal person- not that April didn’t, but y’know, she was…April. And he was a sewer monster.

Okay, that sentence didn’t make much sense: What he meant was that…April had already basically good as rejected him- whether because she genuinely didn’t like him or because he was a giant talking turtle, he had no clue. And he wasn’t even sure if April herself knew either.

So having you, a cool as shell human teenager who didn’t owe them your life (or at least not any more so than the rest of New York), like him and enjoy their company, made him want to scream in excitement.

Not that they would do that, obviously. That would be-um- really embarrassing!

So, shaking his head, he said “Sure, I’ll use my ninja-ing on any sewer monsters we happen to come across.”

“Aw, my hero.” you smiled, clasping your hands dramatically.

“Anytime.” he said, hoping they didn’t sound too awkward as he began to climb down the ladder. You followed him down, landing on the ground a few seconds after him.

“So am I gonna meet your brothers?” you said, looking around the tunnel curiously.

Donnie snorted. “Absolutely not, they’d kill me. Or, alternatively, they’d tell my dad who would then kill me.” (Or alternatively to the alternatively, you’d find them all much much cooler than Donatello. And then you’d be everyone’s friend instead of just his. Not that you weren’t allowed to have other friends, obviously, but still…he kinda liked being your favorite mutant turtle, if that made any sense?)

“Ooh, rule breaking. Sweet.” you said, sounding slightly nervous yet somehow relaxed. He did not even slightly understand how you managed that.

“Your family won’t like…murder me if I met them…right? Um, not because of the mutant thing, but because of the whole um…secret ninja thing.” you continued.

“No. Um. Maybe Raph would, but probably not- If anything, they’d be scared of you murdering me.” Donnie chuckled, leading you down the subway tunnel.

“Oh. I mean. I am entering your home secretly in the dead of night, so it…may not be entirely unfounded?” you shrugged. “But then again. Your home is a sewer, so I think that’s one point on the ‘Donnie is more likely to murder me than vice-versa’ scorecard.”

Donnie snorted. “Oh yeah, and the ‘being a scary mutant’ part is just normal?”

You shrugged. “The scarier part was when you showed up on my fire escape completely unannounced that one time.”

Donnie cringed at the mental image of Donnie-of-almost-a-year-ago. “I’m sorry about that again, I thought it was normal!”

You chuckled, patting his shell. “It’s fine dude, really. It’s hilarious in retrospect, actually, and let’s face it- you’re way too fun for me to stay mad at.”

“Oh- you think so?” Donnie grinned. “Thanks.”

“Although on the topic of mutants…um…really quick question, and you don’t have to answer, but…um….I’ve wondered this forever, but keep forgetting to ask you until now…” Eguh boy, here we go.

Donnie frowned. “Um…go on?”

“Does the space behind your shell ever itch and then you’re like. Unable to scratch it or reach it?” you said in one breath, looking slightly embarrassed as if you were asking something incredibly personal and maybe offensive.

Donnie blinked, trying their best not to laugh.

“...No?!”

“Oh okay cool. That’s good. That’s important. I’m happy for you.” you said, nodding.

“It’s like how it doesn’t itch under your fingernails, y’know?” Donnie chuckled.

“Huh. I guess that makes sense.” you said thoughtfully.

“Oh, here we are!” Donnie said, smiling as you stepped towards the turnstiles. “Lair sweet lair.”

You whistled. “Pretty neat! So this is where the secret science stuff happens?”

“Actually, that’s over here.” he said, waving proudly at the garage door by the entrance.

“Wooooah! You’ve got a sick personal lab?!” you grinned, stepping inside. “Oooh and it’s all purple too? I love this!”

“Ooh let’s keep the volume down and- oh my gosh, you think so?! Thanks! It’s mostly stuff I stole- um I mean found- from that old military junkyard, but uh hey! At least it’s purple!” they rambled, tossing their bo from hand to hand.

“There is no way that that’s legal,” you said, wandering around the lab. “Which just makes this all so much cooler, of course.”

“You could come with me next time!” …Idiot! “Um- if you want, obviously, no pressure-” he backpedaled.

“No, that sounds fantastic. I’d love to accompany you to the junkyard.” you said sincerely, before pausing. “....Woah….hey Dee, what’s with the um…organs in a tube?” you said.

Donnie winced. Of course. “Oh…that’s Timothy.”

“...Timothy.” you repeated. “Care to…y’know, elaborate?”

Donnie swallowed. “I still feel pretty awful about him…he was some human that wanted to become a vigilante, and um…got himself mutated.” they sighed, staring at the glowing remains. “I’m trying to turn him back, make a retromutagen…but um…I haven’t had any luck yet.” he finished glumly.

“Jeez.” you said softly. “That is…pretty brutal.”

“Yeah…” Donnie shrugged. “Um…yeah. I wish there was more I could do for him. Mostly I wish I had done a better job of stopping him…poor guy wasn’t too bright, but he definitely doesn’t deserve this…”

You patted them on the shoulder. “Hey, knowing you, you probably did your best, Dee.”

“Well, I certainly tried, but…I dunno. I should have tried harder.” he sighed, leaning into your shoulder pat that had somehow morphed into a side-hug.

“Well if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that you do your best Don. And plus, you’re working on that retromutagen, so hey! Maybe Timothy will be Timothy again someday, right?” you smiled.

“Yeah…” Donnie said, smiling half-heartedly. “Well…sorry about this, I’m being such a downer, huh?”

“Hey, s’okay! And Dee…I dunno much about chemistry, but if there’s anything I can do to help, lemme know, okay? Like anything. Even just bringing you snacks. I’m great at snacks.” you grinned.

“Really?” they smiled, more sincerely this time. “Gee (Y/N). That’d be great, actually- I have this bad habit where I forget to eat when I’m working, so that might actually help a lot to be honest! Man, you’re the best.” he grinned.

“I know, I know.” you said, tossing your hair. “Everyone says so- and I mean like, yeah no I totally get it, I am so cool.”

“Hey, you know what, I’ll believe it.” Donnie chuckled. “You’re definitely pretty c-”

“Hey Donnie, ya mind telling me why you’re all cozied up with a human?”

Donnie froze.

Uh oh.

“I think I was too loud.” you mouthed, eyes wide.

Donnie slowly turned around to see a short turtle with a cracked plastron and a look in his eyes that gave Donnie a very bad feeling.

“Hi Raph.” they squeaked.

“Hi Raph.” you echoed, waving weakly.

Raph narrowed his eyes, glaring at Donnie. “...So you finally get a partner and then keep it secret?” he smirked. “Come on Don! I promised I’d stop calling you sad-dorable!”

Donnie blinked, flustered. “N-no Raph, (Y/N)’s not my partner-”

“Sad-dorable?” you grinned, staring at Raph. “That’s…that’s pretty good, actually!”

“Right?! Mikey and Leo just said it was ‘unempathetic’- see Don, your partner gets it!” Raph grinned, prodding Donnie’s shoulder.

“Speaking of Leo.” said a new voice.

This time, both Raph and Donnie looked nervous. “Uh…heya, Fearless.” said Raph awkwardly, glancing over his shoulder.

“What the heck are you two doing with a human at three in the morning?!” Leo exclaimed, looking incredibly done with his siblings’ crap. “God forbid a guy get any rest around here…”

“Aw shuddup Leo, you weren’t asleep.” Raph scoffed.

Leo suddenly looked a bit nervous. “Sure I was.”

“No, you were writing-”

“-I was writing a short story!” Leo said unconvincingly.

“Yeah, aka Captain Ryan x reader fanfiction.” Raph said flatly.

“Shut up Raphael.” Leo mumbled, blushing. Donnie resisted the urge to laugh in favor of stepping in front of you protectively.

“So what, has the whole lair decided to show up in my lab tonight?” Donnie said, rolling his eyes.

“Um-”

“Go back to bed Mikey.” they sighed, not even having to turn around to know that their youngest brother was there now too. “Actually, all of you, just go back to bed. Please.”

“Not fair, I wanna meet your secret lover!” Mikey groaned.

“-Friend! We are friends!” Donnie exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “(Y/N) is my secret friend because you guys feel the need to drag our friends into the stupid ninja nonsense, and last time that happened, look what it did to Timothy!” they yelled.

Maybe they were exaggerating a bit. But he didn’t want you to get inevitably wrapped up in the world of aliens and mutants, and being around their brothers was a surefire way of ending up in it.

And on a more selfish note, maybe Donnie liked having one friend that was just his. Raph had Casey, Mikey had Renet, Leo had Karai, and Donnie…well, arguably there was April, but then, she thought of him as a repulsive sewer monster.

Maybe, as selfish as it was, Donnie wanted to have just one friend who liked him more than their brothers.

Raph, Leo, and Mikey stared at him. You also stared at him.

Donnie blinked, slowly lowering his hands. He swallowed. “Um. So. Yeah.”

Mikey raised his hand, but didn’t bother waiting to be called on. “Casey didn’t end up like the Pulverizer, and he’s friends with us!”

Raph shrugged. “Well yeah, but to be fair, Casey’s also kinda like a roach. I’m pretty sure he’s impossible to kill.”

You raised your hand like Mikey had. “Um, for the record, I don’t think I’ll be falling into a vat of mutagen any time soon. It’s ah…y’know, not exactly on the agenda.”

Donnie sighed, staring at the ground. “I know, I know…but like…What if. What if something happens and I can’t save you. What then? (Y/N), you mean a lot more to me personally than Timothy- I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt because of us.” they whispered.

Leo sighed. “It’s dangerous, yeah. We can’t deny that. But Dee…you didn’t have to keep it secret either.”

Raph coughed something that sounded like ‘Karai’, and Leo shot him a glare.

“We both know that was different.” he hissed.

“Cough- hypocrite- cough-” Raph continued.

You snorted. “I mean…well Dee, they know now, y’know? I don’t really plan on dealing with your ninja stuff, but if it makes ya feel any better, I took a bunch of martial arts classes a couple years ago. Obviously I’m not a freaking ninja, which is very cool and I believe you now by the way, but like…y’know, I can fight decently.”

“Oh yeah? Wanna spar?” said Raph, grinning.

“Not at three in the morning.” you dismissed.

“Aw.”

“Maybe tomorrow though.” you coughed.

“Nice.” Raph smirked, cracking his knuckles.

“Really?” Donnie said flatly.

“Uhm if Donnie’s not cool with it then I guess we can’t.” you said bluntly, giving Don a look.

Donnie sighed. He did kinda sound like a jerk, huh? “Whatever.” he said finally, fidgeting with their staff strap. “So um. Surprise, I guess. We’ve got a new friend!” they said, trying to smile at his brothers.

You stared at him for a second longer before Leo, who had looked kinda tired and ambivalent the whole time, suddenly jolted towards you. “Oh my god is that a SPACE HEROES SHIRT?!” he exclaimed.

You grinned. “Yeah! You like Space Heroes?!”

“Are you KIDDING? I love Space Heroes!” he squealed, bouncing up and down in a very Mikey-esque way. “Donnie I take it all back, your friend is amazing.”

Donnie gave a strained smile. “...Yup.”

Mikey gave him a look this time as he stepped away from the group. “Hey brah, are you…jelly?”

…At least he had the courtesy to whisper.

“What makes you say that?” Donnie mumbled.

“Well I mean…instead of like, being happy about your friend being like, friendly and bonding with us, you’re like…mad, dude.” Mikey said, poking them in the cheek. “Lookit that scowl bro! It says things, dude.”

“Is it that obvious?” Donnie sighed, both annoyed and relieved that Mikey had noticed his frustration.

“It’s pretty obvious, yup.”

“Coolio.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Mikey said.

Now normally, a talk with Mikey meant a lotta joking and Mikey being purposely annoying. But something about the way Mikey sounded so earnest made Donnie say:

“Eh…sure. (Y/N)’s busy, anyways.”

“C’mon, I gotta get my therapist boxers on.” Mikey said.

“I’m already regretting this.” Donnie deadpanned. “Since when does ‘Dr. Prankenstein’ have a therapy license?”

“Okay, okay man- no therapist boxers, I gotcha.” Mikey nodded, dragging Donnie to the far corner of the lab, where they sat down against the wall. “So what’s scraping your shell, dude?”

“Oh jeez. Please never say that again.”

“Ya dodged the question, D-man. D-person. D-gender neutral term.”

“Well…I guess it’s just that…I don’t know. It’s kind of unfair of me, but…well, (Y/N)’s my friend. You guys have your friends, so why can’t I have one friend who’s just there for…me, y’know?” Donnie tried to explain, watching you chat animatedly with Raph and Leo. “Anyways, of course (Y/N)’s getting along with everyone. (Y/N)’s awesome…and Raph and Leo are cool and strong…and obviously I’m hypercompetent too, but they’re the A-team for a reason…so I guess it’s just…well, next to them, who would ever wanna hang out with me?”

Mikey stared at them. “Um…(Y/N), probably? I mean like…you guys’ve been friends like…waaaaay longer than (Y/N) and Raph or (Y/N) and Leo, brah. And anyways, lookit how (Y/N) keeps looking at you, dude! It’s ‘cause you’re being weird and your friend is worried ‘bout it, yanno?”

Donnie snorted. “Sure.”

“Hey (Y/N), if you become friends with us you won’t ditch Donnie here, right?” Mikey hollered.

“Mikey-”

You raised an eyebrow. “...Wait, is that why you’re being weird, Don-tron?!”

“No- I mean- Maybe, I mean- it’s stupid, really-” they rambled.

“Yeah no that’s really fucking stupid.” you said.

“Jeez Don, really?” Raph said.

“Hey-”

“Not now dude, they’re dealin’ with brain stuff and…stuff.” Mikey said wisely, ushering Raph and Leo away.

You shook your head, coming over to the corner. “I mean- dude, we’ve been besties for what, a year now? Ya really think I’d ditch you like that?” you grinned, holding out your hand to help them up.

They took it hesitantly, smiling softly. “You mean…I’m your best friend?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I’d say so.”

“Oh.” he said, squeezing your hand. “I uh…didn’t know that. You’re mine, obviously, I just didn’t think I was yours.” they murmured, suddenly overcome with a weird, sweet emotion that he wasn’t quite sure how to describe.

“I can still befriend your brothers, dude…they’re cool. I like your family. But I like you best, so you don’t needa get all insecure on me, doofus.” you smiled. “And if you're still worried about safety, then you should teach me how to make cool weapons. Because not only would that be metal as fuck, but it would also be a great excuse to hang out with you.”

Donnie laughed. “Sure!”

There was a beat of silence, and Donnie glanced at you. “But um…I’m really sorry about tonight, (Y/N). I was…well, am being kind of a jerk, huh? Eugh. Sorry.”

You shrugged. “I mean yeah, but like, you talked it through and now we both are closer for it, right? And besides- meeting your brothers was awesome. But between the two of us, my favorite part of tonight has been hanging with you, you dork.”

Donnie grinned. “Same.”

You smiled at them again, and squeezed their hand one more time. “Ready to go face the others?”

“Ohhh boy, I should probably apologize to them too, huh?” Donnie winced, pushing the garage door open.

“Eh, I mean sure. Why not-”

But it was not their brothers who were waiting outside.

“Why is there a stranger in the lair? And more importantly- WHY ARE ALL MY CHILDREN OUT OF BED?” exclaimed Splinter, emerging from the shadows.

Oh no.

#tmnt x reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #gn!reader #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt 2012 donnie x reader #tmnt 2012 donnie #donnie x reader #tmnt donatello #donatello x reader #2k12 donnie #he/they donatello tmnt

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enavstars · 6 months

Text

Some characters in the Cyberpunk au (part 1)

I tried to make Echo and Zane more robot-like since robots are pretty much treated like people regardless of their appereance. And Garmadon's design is from when the rgb are kids so he's younger (he's not an Oni in this au).

Characters details from within the story:

Echo

Echo is created by a younger Julien (like in his 30s) as a test run for his project to build himself an assistant to deal with his chronic disease, which, despite not being deadly per se, it could still leave him impaired in the long run and therefore he needed some sort of safe net just in case.

But sadly, the prototype's AI ends up being deficient for his purpose as he is not able to process neither human emotions nor their needs, so after much deliberation, Julien decides to set him free rather than letting him collect dust in his storage.

However, Echo could not fit into the city's human society either, as people would not accept his strange speech nor behavior. This eventually culminated in an assault by one of the problematic gangs that sprouted up after the crisis, where they thrashed the helpless robot relentlessly and even managed to damage his voice module. He then was trashed out to the Outside, and from there, mauled and hopeless, he wandered aimlessly and without a purpose in life for a long time.

But at one point through his senseless journey, he stumbled upon a couple of abandoned kids crying in the middle of the woods. Even though he did not understand what their tears meant, he was curious, so from then on he started acting as their guardian.

Thanks to them, slowly but surely he began to learn about human emotions and, as he could only do little beeps to communicate, he also figured out a way to communicate without words. Although sometimes he was still lacking as a caregiver, he worked hard to develop the necessary skills to look after their (newly discovered) basic human needs, like fishing and hunting. He even takes a third kid in after Kai and Nya find another lost boy in the woods and convince him to keep him.

As they grow, he also begins to teach them how to be self-sufficient, because he is painfully aware that he would never be capable of being a better parent due to his poor programming. It is in this context when, years later when Echo finds a potential job opportunity as the ferryman to the city, the RGB urge him to take the chance, knowing that he wants to work to feel more useful and wanting to have more solo adventures.

Even though he was reluctant to leave them behind, he is now the happiest he's ever been and still looks after his children whenever they need him (even going so far as to risk his job) out of his gratitude for granting him another chance in his doomed life.

Ronin

Currently retired, he used to be a renowned mercenary and bounty hunter in his youth. However, he gradually gained more and more enemies and got himself into more and more dangerous trouble (which is why he’s a full cyborg now), until eventually, battered and grown past the age of peak physical strength, he decided to quit to save his ass.

From then on, he started looking after the demon children around the most miserable parts of their struggling segregated neighborhood in exchange for minor treasure hunts; this is why he is now protected from his remaining enemies, as many of them grew up to become members of some of the local gangs (also as an added bonus Garmadon is a pretty ominous legend and people are kind of afraid of hurting demons because of him, but more on that later).

Although he lives rather isolated from the rest of society because of his (extensive) criminal record, he still manages to make ends meet with the treasures he got from all his exploits and the profits of the little side quests he tasks the children in exchange for his care.

No he’s not charity, he’s a wine uncle, but he is an asshole to everyone (especially humans) except the kids. In fact, even though he does not give out help for free, he always ends up rewarding them with his teachings and advice and about life on top of the food and shelter, so almost every child he's taken under his wing ends up becoming pretty competent to face the harsh society they live in.

And in particular, he grows to like the RGB a lot because he recognizes their wit and appreciates how cunning they can be, sometimes even negotiating with him and being capable enough to uno reverse his little tricks on the kids like they are equals (for example, Nya stealing her brother’s bionic eye blueprints to avoid being totally dependant on Ronin for maintenance).

In fact, later on when Nya introduces him to Jay (a human) to be his apprentice as a mechanic, she somehow convinces him despite his hate for his kind.

Bonus: when he meets Jay at first he’s irritated at him because he takes his fear and shyness as racism, but the kid is just intimidated by the sassy cyborg (don't worry, eventually he figures it out and the child grows on him, Jay is too cute).

(I will talk about Jay in my next post dw)

Zane (24NE)

He’s the successful final product of Julien’s project, a kind and refined assistance nindroid knowledgeable in human care. His role is very important to him, so when his father died he lost all purpose in life and, unable to deal with his grief on top of that existential crisis, he became depressed and stagnant, trapped in his own mind inside his creator’s abandoned home and slowly wasting away due to his mental stress and a lack of maintenance now that nobody could look after him.

And he stayed in that sorry state until the RGB found the house and, upon looting it for supplies, Nya stumbled upon the nindroid lying dormant next to Julien’s bed. When she wakes him up, his rusty voice module is damaged and he can’t speak properly (Julien is shit at making those apparently), so she repairs it as best as she can and as a result, he eventually becomes their friend.

Although they were wary at first, they understood his situation, and in the end they decided to help him by introducing him to Doctor Rashid (an oc) to learn more about biology and medicine.

Speaking of, I’ll talk more about Dr. Rashid in another future post but basically he’s an oc of mine I inserted in this au, a friend of Kai and Nya’s and sort of a parental figure.

Garmadon

He is an elusive red-eyed demon, the rarest of his kind, and a criminal brought to legendary status. Now vanished and rarely ever seen amongst the city shadows, he used to be an undefeatable wandering warrior. He would spread chaos everywhere he went and, along the way, he would mercilessly murder anyone opposed to the Demon’s Rights movement.

However, one day he disappeared suddenly from the face of the earth. But his legacy carries on to this day: he is feared universally, considered an antihero by his followers and a bloodthirsty criminal by the rest.

A few months after his disappearance, though, a human woman named Misako gave birth to a demon child with ominous red eyes. Soon, people started making the connection and his mother, who by that point had developed a deep hatred towards demons, was put under such public scrutiny that she ended up abandoning him on the Outside to leave behind the city and her trauma along with it.

Sadly for Garmadon, it was too late when he finally learned that he had a son. He’d left Misako pregnant without either of them knowing, and after he was gone she had been unable to reach him. For that reason, when he came back to the city years later and at last he found out, in the end he decided to let Lloyd be with his new family, as he he realized he had no right to take him in after being absent the entirety of his short life when he already had the two loving siblings looking after him.

After that, he turned back to his wandering, and he was barely ever seen again.

#art #ninjago #ninjago cyberpunk au #ninjago zane #zane julien #ninjago ronin #ninjago echo #ninjago garmadon

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itsagrimm · 1 year

Text

*moans in german*

Sex and Sex-related vocabulary for writing smut with german phrases

I had an anon ask me about useful sexy vocabulary in german to write smut with. Let's see what König might moan. *kicks up feet in the air and twirls hair*

note - for many, german and german dialects are not really considered sexy so this was a wild but fun Doktor Sommer-esk ride. the categories are not meant as any judgment, i just had to sort it in some way. feel free to add, fellow german-speakers.

Basics

Safe word - safe word, it's the same as in english. rot, gelb, grün - red, yellow, green Darf ich dich küssen? - May I kiss you? Darf ich dich anfassen? - May or can I touch you? Gefällt dir das? - Do you like this? Jungfrau - virgin, gender-non-specific Ich bin Jungfrau. Ich bin noch Jungfrau. Das ist neu für mich. - I am a virgin. I am still a virgin. I am new to this. Ich vertraue dir. - I trust you. heiß, heißer, am heißesten - hot, hotter, the hottest 🔥 Der ist aber groß. - Oh, he is big. (you are so welcome for this one) Ich komme. Ich komme gleich. - I'm cumming. I'm about to cum. Penis, Schwanz, Glied,... - Penis, cock, member, ... Vagina, Fotze, Spalte, Scheide,... - vagina, cunt, slit (derogatory), slit (technically sheath but kind old-fashioned yet not derogatory),... So eng. - So tight. So feucht. - so wet. Du fühlst dich so feucht an. - You feel so wet. Darf ich in dir kommen? Ich will in dir kommen. - Can I cum inside you? I want to cum inside you. Darf ich dir einen blasen? Willst du mir einen blasen? - Can I give you a blow job? Do you want to give me a blow job?

Contraception & pregnancy

Ich nehme die Pille. Nimmst du die Pille? - I am on the contraceptive pill. Do you take a contraceptive pill? Ich hab Kondome dabei. / Bitte benutz ein Kondom. - I have condoms. / Please use a condom. Ich bin schwanger. Ich bin nicht schwanger. Bist du schwanger?- I am pregnant. I am not pregnant. Are you pregnant?

Praises & Compliments

Das gefällt mir. - I like this. Du bist schön. - You are beautiful. Du siehst gut aus. - You look great. Mir gefällt was du da tust. Das machst du gut. - I like what you do (there). You are doing well. guter Junger - good boy Mehr! Weiter! Tiefer! Härter!- more! Keep going! Deeper! Harder! Oh Gott - Oh god.

Degradation & Kinks

Zieh mir an den Haaren. - Pull my hair. Halt still. - Don't move. Nimm ihn in den Mund. - Take it into your mouth. Lass mich dein Maul stopfen. - Let me make you shut up. / Let me fill your mouth. Schlampe - slut Hure - whore Ich wollte nur mal so ne Uniform anprobieren. - I just wanted to try out a uniform.

Post-sex talk

Wollen wir reden? Können wir reden? - Do you want to talk? Can we talk? Hab ich dir weh getan? - Did I hurt you? Bist du okay? Geht es dir gut? - Are you okay? Are you alright? Wollen wir kuscheln? - Do you want to cuddle? Schlaf gut - sleep tight.

I want to be tagged every time some uses this to write smut just to see how people use this.

In need of less bedroom focused vocabulary? here.

#du willst ein liebeslied du kriegst mein riesenglied #könig #könig cod #könig x reader #könig mw2 #call of duty könig #könig call of duty

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amenalyme · 6 months

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rambling about slugcats

I’m probably not the first to notice this but I personally haven’t seen anyone else bring it up so I wanna talk about it.

I realized that as the timeline progresses, the slugcats become progressively less carnivorous.

While spearmaster has a different way of eating, they mostly feed off of the energy of other living animals, with the exception of popcorn plants.

Both artificer and hunter are technically able to eat plants as well as small insects, though they much prefer the meat of other larger creatures. Artificer, who is earlier in the timeline, also has the maul ability, which likely means that it has stronger sharper teeth. While inv isn’t canon, it also fits in its place between arti and hunter here, sharing the maul ability with artificer.

Gourmand gains less nutrition from other larger animals than hunter or artificer do, though in return they are more adapted to eating plants and smaller insects.

Survivor, monk and rivulet eat only plants and insects. While monk could be considered more passive than rivulet, this is probably just the nature of monk as a character rather than an evolutionary thing, especially as survivor and monk are around at basically the same time. Rivulet is however more equipped to simply flee any encounter with a threat rather than engage in combat.

Saint is fully vegetarian (just don’t tell them about bluefruit). Their digestive system does not tolerate meat at all. Attempting to eat a smaller creature like a batfly will cause them to collapse while trying to eat a centipede will result in instant death.

Of course some of these cats can be described as anomalies in their own right, either due to being purposefully created by iterators or whatever is going on with saint, but when it comes to food, this progression does look to be quite linear.

It’s very possible that slugcats were previously a fully carnivorous species, but then evolved to be mainly insectivorous, while also growing more adapted to plants.

I just thought this was neat and wanted to share. Anyone is free to give their own input on this as well

#Rain world #rain world theory #slugcat #rain world slugcat

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 1 year

Text

I've said all of this stuff already but I'm pissed rn and it's therapeutic to type it out:

Maul's presence on Mandalore in TCW s7 is NOT a priority. The political situation on Mandalore, while shitty, has been the same for the civilian population since s5, with or without Maul there. Things can wait a bit.

Sure, capturing Maul is possibly time sensitive (since they don't know how long he'll be on-planet), but taking back Mandalore isn't. If Maul leaves before they show up the planet is just as easy to take. Bo-Katan is using his presence as an incentive because she doesn't have the necessary forces to win, whether or not he's there. The situation is only urgent for her because if Maul leaves then the Republic has no reason to help her cause. The situation is not urgent for Mandalore because, again, it's been the same for basically a year - Maul's presence has little impact on the people, his forces are the problem and they have never left.

The Republic didn't "refuse" to help after s5, they just had no more reason to. Almec is still legitimately Prime Minister (accepted by the people) and Mandalore is an independent sovereign system that has spent actual years refusing outside interference. The second Maul bails "helping" goes back to being called "invading".

Capturing Maul is also not even a priority to the Republic (Republic =/= Jedi Order) because Palpatine ordered the Jedi to stop bothering with him in s5. Officially Maul is 'just' a crime lord, and he's not allied with the Separatists or even attacking the Republic. It's well established in TCW that the Jedi don't have the manpower to deal with the underworld anymore. What's the point of dismantling black markets and crime rings if the planet gets bombed into oblivion the next day? Priorities.

The Jedi can't do what they want with Republic resources. As awful as it is, the Clones belong to the Republic. The Jedi can be ordered to pull out of a situation whenever the Senate pleases. (see above)

Capturing Maul (what would be the Jedi's goal going to Mandalore) would really best be accomplished somewhere he doesn't have all his forces backing him up (again, confronting there is for Bo-Katan's benefit because her own goal isn't just to capture Maul but to beat his forces which she wants the Republic to do for her)

The Battle of Coruscant is ABSOLUTELY a pivotal point in the war and the main priority. The second the Separatists show up above the Republic's central seat of power? The political and military capital? The most densely populated planet in the Galaxy? It's time to drop literally everything else. The Senate is there. The Temple is there. A LOT of their troops are stationed there. There are hundreds of thousands of billions of people living there. Even pulling forces out of allied worlds to go help Coruscant wouldn't be a dick move, just a desperate one - nevermind waiting to send troops to a neutral-on-a-good-day-and-more-or-less-enemy-the-rest-of-the-time world.

The Jedi don't even refuse to help.

They don't.

Why am I typing all of this to defend their refusal to help? They don't refuse to help.

Obi-Wan wants to take a hot minute to THINK ABOUT the implications of going guns blazing into neutral sovereign territory to confront a dude who has an extremely personal vendetta against him and is known to set traps of precisely this kind. (And Obi-Wan is right to consider these things because HEY! IT IS A TRAP! MAUL SLAUGHTERS A BUNCH OF CLONES AS A BREADCRUMBS TRAIL TO LEAD SOMEONE HE HOPES TO BE OBI-WAN INTO A TRAP!)

Obi-Wan also answers to the rest of Council, just like every other Council member. Bo-Katan gets pissy that he's not giving an answer right that instant because SHE needs Maul to still be there, but thinking things through is literally Obi-Wan's job description.

And after all this, after the attack on Coruscant and the political considerations, THE JEDI DON'T EVEN REFUSE TO HELP.

The Mandalorian traditionalists' favorite pastime is attempting to kill Jedi. Not too long ago, Bo was right there when Pre was trying to kill Obi-Wan. And then trying to kill Ahsoka. And then allying with the Sith (who notoriously want to kill all the Jedi) on two separate occasions (Dooku and Maul). The Mandos PRIDE THEMSELVES on hating the Jedi. There has never been in canon an instance of a Prequels-era Mando warrior helping a Jedi out for altruistic motives.

Bo-Katan is appealing to the Order's decency (saying that her people suffer etc etc) but she doesn't even have the honesty to couch it as a real, desperate plea for help. Instead she presents the situation as transactional, as though she was bringing anything concrete onto the table. If the Republic comes in, takes Mandalore for her and captures Maul, she has contributed to the effort how, exactly? What has she given the Republic? How many people fight for her is left pretty vague but we really don't see that many of them. Plus it's her planet. Fighting for it isn't her giving the Republic anything, it's still her helping herself. And yet she gets incredibly pissed when Obi-Wan takes time to examine the 'deal.'

In light of the two previous arguments, the Jedi would in fact have been perfectly justified in telling Bo to eat some freaking humble pie.

THE JEDI. DON'T REFUSE. TO HELP.

Sure it's Obi-Wan specifically who okays the operation, before the rest of the Council can make a decision, but do they order the troops to pull out afterwards? Nope. Do they sanction him? Nope.

They do help.

They really shouldn't have let Bo-Katan in charge but hey, they get all massacred after that and the Republic's backing is literally what gives Bo-Katan legitimacy in the eyes of many clans for decades after (see the Protectors' position in Rebels. Her legitimacy stems from SATINE'S and the Republic apparently backing her up as Satine's heir. It's not from kicking Maul out.)

(I love Bo-Katan as a character but as a person she's. huh. a lot. She changed from outright villain to morally gray character because the villains got a lot worse not bc she got better lmo)

So the Jedi absolutely did help afgfdsdfgfdsdfd why are people getting pissy about Obi-Wan - who has a complicated history with Mandalore that involves a loved one getting murdered in front of his eyes by Maul - hesitating to help

They really didn't refuse to help.

They really had every reason to

It would have been perfectly reasonable in fact

Yeah they have a mandate to protect innocent people but there were a lot more innocent people on Coruscant

Innocent people who did want their help instead of yelling GTFO every time they showed up

Because the Mando civilians sure didn't want them there

Oh and also? They didn't refuse to help

#jedi order #tcw season 7 #siege of mandalore #bo-katan kryze #darth maul #obi-wan kenobi #long post #meta #my meta #more like me ranting #sw talk #the great siege of mandalore diatribe

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fanfic-obsessed · 8 months

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Somehow Palpatine Returned

Ok I had a hilarious thought and I need to share it with all of you. I don’t normally venture into the Sequels, for all that I have been a FinnPoe and a FinnPoeRey shipper for years, or into anything close to canon, but I want to share this with you.

Picture if you will the moment where Poe is telling the audience that ‘Somehow Palpatine has returned’. Ponder for a moment Obi Wan Kenobi, in the Force, at that moment. The look on his face.

We are going with, somehow, Palpatine managed to hide his real identity from the Force Ghosts so they did not know he was still alive.

We are also, from my own personal headcanon, going with the idea that Obi Wan severely dislikes (as close to hate as he is capable of) Palpatine and has for almost fifty years at this point. Like 90% of the horrible things that happened in Obi Wan’s adult life can be traced back to Palpatine (both directly and indirectly).

At the moment that Poe reveals that Palpatine is back, in the Force Obi Wan starts swearing. He starts swearing in every language he knows. He starts mixing languages in his swears. He starts inventing new curses and new languages to be able to express his displeasure at the news.

Obi Wan Kenobi is about ready to materialize into the mortal plane for the sole purpose of ripping Palpatine’s arm off and beating him with it (in a way that violates all manner of physics and Force).

Slightly to the Left of Obi Wan, Anakin Skywalker is staring at his grandson in mild horror going ‘why are you…this’.

The Force starts manifesting people to calm Obi Wan Kenobi down (For fear that Obi Wan will break…everything). First Force Sensitives and Jedi he cared for, then Clones, then non force sensitives, even a few old enemies.

Note 1: Maul appears at one point and screams ‘Kenobi’ for a really long time, to the point that everyone else (other than Obi Wan) looks at him. He shrugs and goes ‘I just wanted to get your attention’ then goes to sit down next to Satine so they can both score Obi Wan’s curses while splitting a bottle of Force Wine.

Note 2: Maul and Satine have a weirdly cordial relationship for being a pacifist government official ex girlfriend of a Jedi and the Sith Warlord that murdered her in front of said Jedi, but they have found in the afterlife that they both get joy from the face Obi wan makes when they argue about something inane with him. Also they may be each scoring Obi Wan’s swears (with the occasional addition of Yoda, Dooku, Ventress, and Padme) but they are using different metrics so their scores are vastly different at all time (Maul is scoring on Creativity, Violence, and the number of organs violated; Satine is scoring on creativity, number of languages used, how poetic/rhythmic, and how well it translates into basic).

A battalion's worth of clones are arrayed around Obi Wan, taking notes. Quinlan Vos appears and vanishes in rapid succession as he helps to calm then egg Obi Wan on (at which point the Force yanks him away only to be convinced to put him back). Cody tries to calm Obi Wan down for precisely three minutes, then he realizes what has Obi Wan so steamed. At that point he goes ‘no this reaction is completely valid’ and starts discussing how one would make some of those curses a reality (as they do violate physics, the Force, and human structural integrity. Also Palpatine does not even have some of those organs) with Qui Gonn Jinn, who is deeply amused but happy to bond with his pseudo son in law.

Plo Koon wanders through and announces that he is adopting all of the new stormtroopers both dead and living (in the mortal plane Finn, Rose, and others suddenly get the feeling that they have been absconded with and have no idea why).

In one corner Anakin, still despairing over Kylo Ren/Ben Solo and his life choices, is having an ongoing yet supremely awkward family reunion with one or more of the following at any given point and time: his wife, whom he had a hand in killing; his daughters adoptive parents, whom he helped murder; his daughter’s husband, who he tortured, froze in carbonite, and sold to a bounty hunter; and his step brother and step sister in law that rose his son on a planet that Anakin hated, whom he only didn’t torture because he never remembered they existed; Assorted Jedi who he had been close to, whom he might of had a hand in murdering.

That one corner has so much passive aggressiveness that it is insane. A lot of Anakin asking out loud why Kylo Ren is…like that with one or more of the previously listed people going ‘Maybe if his grandfather didn’t become a Sith, Ben wouldn’t have gotten the idea’. Which is both slightly unfair, as Anakin had been dead by the time Ben Solo was born, but also funny as anything.

Also no one in that corner was actually discussing their elephant in the room, which was Anakin turned out to be THE PROBLEM for two decades.

There is an ever growing parade of everyone Obi Wan has ever met being thrown at him by the Force because the Force effectively went: SHIT that is a lot of anger. Deflect.Deflect.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #sheev palpatine #star wars sequals #poe dameron #bamf obi wan #codywan

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sg-l · 7 months

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👏🏻 Curse!Gojo 👏🏻 Curse!Gojo 👏🏻 Curse!Gojo 👏🏻

What's his way of showing you affection in this new cursed form? We talked about how he'd be a lap dog but like....is he just laying on top of you from time to time bc he loves you and needs to see your face??

Elaborate for the peeps in the back ☺️

- 🦦

・curse!Satoru Gojo Headcanons・

a/n・I'm so bad at formulating headcanons you know this?? also how did you find an otter emoji?? Fandom・Jujutsu Kaisen Character(s)・Satoru Gojo Tags・sloppy headcanons, curse!Gojo AU, fluff, unedited

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

curse!Gojo is...enormous

lets just get the physical implications of cursing the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the world because curse!Gojo is...a lot

both in personality as well as sheer size and monstrous appearance

think...cursed Howl Pendragon, meets gluttonous No Face's limbs, owlbeast Eda Clawthorn shape with owlbeast Lilth Clawthron color palette and retractable neck

and I fully headcanon him as having no physical appearance of eyes/nose etc but a black banding around where his eyes should be and the rest of his faceless head is a very large un-hingable jaw with the rest of his face being "splashed" in white before transitioning to the bulk of his dark body

ok ok ok enough about the way the curse looks; and more about the way he acts!

like most cursed souls curse!Gojo is dangerously obsessed with you

you are his only purpose in life as well as the only thing tying him to a physical "life" and his animal instinct will not let that bond be broken no matter the cost

curse!Gojo basically feels no pain and it's scarier to see in action than it is to just think he's a stubborn fighter

he is insanely affectionate; to the point it's smothering

ideally he'd be sealed away in a cursed object but nothing can hold all of him (to no one's surprise)

so that being said curse!Gojo does at time have the annoying nuances of a shikigami or a familiar but make it 1000x worse

giant lap dog 🤝 pissy cat 🤝 needy brat

curse!Gojo likes to show his affection by planting himself right behind you and more times than not laying a part of his grotesques form on you

no idea about his actual size nor would he care if you tried to explain it to him because he just won't listen

curse!Gojo wants to be touching you at some point all the time or else he does get practically...antsy

not a good idea for him to be restless, it's in everyone's best interest for curse!Gojo to remain calm as long as possible

brings you dead curses and to no one surprise, likes to play with them! he will make it a point to have you watch him disembody things.

People, curses, animals...the only thing curse!Gojo will not touch is young individuals

that's a post for later

his ideal way to have your attention is to absolutely maul your target into a pulp right in front of you and frankly there's no other way for him to kill besides over the top right in front of you

on a less gruesome note, yes, he insists on sleeping with you

curse!Gojo thankfully has very little intention of suffocating you so he's happy to have you lay on top of him or curls up around you as the biggest spoon in the world

regretfully curse!Gojo does lick and drool when overtly excited and talks in the fastest string of broken sentences any being could

you get real good at understanding the gibberish don't worry

curse!Gojo loves "self care" and by that it means he loves having you hold his face, pick things out of his teeth, booping his non existent nose and giving him forehead kisses

exceptionally fond of carrying you and pouts when you don't let him hold you 24/7

and the most horrifying thing curse!Gojo loves to show his affection is...play wrestling

don't worry he basically just wants to engulf you in a hug and roll around with you but it can be off putting to those who are not familiar with either of you two yet

#wifey 🦦 ♡#idk that's the tag you get lol but guess who's not shutting up about curse!Gojo !!!#its me im not shutting up about it #curse!gojo au #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo saturo #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen

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another20somethinggal-blog

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ohfuckoffplease

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