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how does pinterest see you? makeup, purse, aesthetic, outfit , celebrity, shoes (search these ân pick the first photo)
iâd say this is pretty accurate :3 i do my makeup kind of similarly + have a ring and outfit kind of like that minus the corset (actually i swear i have that exact same skirt).. also i need those shoes so bad omg
vera my love â€ïž my queen đž my fire đ„ my air đŹ my life đ§Ź how are you lately <3
ALEXISSS i missed you :(( iâve been fine lately, lowkey forgot i had tumblr đ€§ i just logged onto here and i see a bunch of fics iâve gotta catch up on if my interest in anime ever comes back
iâm sorry for being gone so long đ do you have any wips youâre working on right now? đ«ą
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I can't stop thinking about the "I've lost my memory but something in me remembers you" trope with tom riddle especially if it's in an enemies storyline
Like just imagine both of you are fighting as always and it either ends in a duel that goes wrong or potion you had to brew together exploding or something and you're knocked unconscious.
When you wake up you don't recognise anyone around you and your mind is disturbingly foggy but then you catch sight of a boy eyeing you warily, half glare - half reluctant concern (he will absolutely refuse to admit the latter to himself), and oh, you know him.
You know him even if his name refuses to form on your tongue and your brain won't offer up any memories for you to place how it is you know him. But you undoubtedly do. You can feel the thread of a connection to him in your chest.
Because of it you don't really trust anyone around you except him which prompts the teachers to instruct Tom to remain by your side as much as possible in hopes it could return your memory and Tom's just like "I beg your fucking pardon?"
And at first he's cold as hell until maybe someone convinces him this could be his chance to destroy you like he's always wanted. He can use your trust in him to find out everything about you and every possible way to ruin your life.
He's a little more charming then and as time goes by he realises how disturbingly easy it is to be around you, to actually want to be, when you're not at each other's throats and he's actively trying to not give off the vibe that he'll curse you into an early grave. Cue Tom becoming a little obsessed with you over time, a little possessive too, all whilst still adamantly denying his behaviour is anything other than keeping you close to him so he can have his ultimate revenge on you.
It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact there's a pit in his stomach that forms whenever someone comes close to triggering a memory for you and taking you from him. Making you hate him again.
omg my vera how did i not notice that it was your birthday yesterday?? hope you had the loveliest best birthday of all time my sunshine and may the rest of your week continue to be just as bright ! i hope you had the chance to spend your day with loving people (even if that means just you) and eat something delicious ! happy birthday again meri jaan <33
ADORAAA Iâm so sorry for replying late (iâm the worst), thank you lovely <33 i donât usually look forward to my birthday but good food solves everything đ€§
VERA VERA VERAAAA !! happiest birthday to you ma love !! >//< i hope itâs filled with so much fun and good wishes !! SENDING YOU SOSO MANY SMOOCHES AND HUGS <333 MWUUUAH !! :3
LENE thank youuu youâre the sweetest đ i wanna hug you through the screen <3
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â. contains: bf!satoru gojo x gn!reader; fluff fluff fluff!!!! they're in love!!!!!! satoru is the king of acts of service!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! wc: 1.5k
"c'mon, show me those chompers, baby!"
sat on the bathroom counter, you watch your boyfriend bare his fangs at you in the most adorable way. his eyes are pressed shut, his smile so wide that it's almost reaching his ears â he's showing how you should do it.
unable to contain the sleepy chuckles that bubble up your throat, satoru's eyes crack open. he's sleepy, too. but he's still here; he's still determined to make you happy, to make you feel good, to make you smile. he's determined to take care of you no matter what.
he ushers you with a laugh of his own, showing you the lump of toothpaste sitting on your new toothbrush.
(he bought you matching ones the other day. he's very proud of himself.)
(you love him.)
you can't say no to him. his free hand squeezes your waist, a sign that he's here and he's waiting. he's not being impatient, though â no, never that. he's just reassuring; skin on skin, he wants you to know he's never leaving.
to him it isn't dramatic to be thinking about his everlasting devotion while doing a menial task like this (if you can even call it that) â it's more than normal actually. he simply cannot stop; you're eating him from the inside and he's grateful.
you do as he says and clench your teeth together while pulling your lips back. you're sure you look a little silly but satoru couldn't disagree more.
"there we go! you look like a little tiger!" he leans in and brushes his nose against yours, making it scrunch up and that makes him giggle in turn. he feels giddy around you, he feels like he's in heaven.
he wets the toothbrush before bringing up to your mouth. he takes his hand from your hip and places it on your jaw instead, gently guiding your face up so he can see a little better.
bristles brush against your enamels and you peer at satoru. he looks awfully concentrated â he's cute like this. there's a small crease between his brows, his crystalline eyes glued to your canines as he watches your mouth fill with foam.
blindly, you play with the hem of his shirt; your fingers graze his marble skin and he shudders at the light touch. the fluorescent light coming from behind you illuminates his face and you waste no time in counting the freckles that adorn his skin. again. you've done it a thousand times before and you'll do it a thousand times more. they're your stars â his smile being the sun and his pretty blue eyes the equivalent of the moon in the sky. he's your guide during the day and the night, you'd be utterly lost without him.
he's your world.
satoru wipes the corner of your mouth, collecting some of the extra toothpaste that's threatening to trickle down your skin and smears it into his shirt, laughing loudly when you gasp at his antics. you smack his stomach and watch his head loll back with a dopey grin. his chest rumbles, hearty giggles bubbling up his throat. his adam's apple bobs before he lowers his head back down, his gaze meeting yours. he's so full of love, he just might burst.
"was gonna wash it anyway."
he looks proud of himself and you snort at his answer.
"yersuchachild."
the toothpaste in your mouth is making it hard to sound serious, your words coming out all muddled and slurred as you splutter at him. he doesn't care for your lecturing â his mind is filled with hearts and sparkles and rainbows and kittens and puppies and pastries and warm blankets and glitter and roses and the color pink and the color red and your eyes and everything else that could possibly be associated with the word love. he watches your mouth move and he sees flower petals falling, he watches you blink and he sees shooting stars, he watches you breathe and he feels at home.
he's your air.
you're a perfect match â you breathe him in and he makes a home inside your lungs. you keep him safe, you cradle him with your gentle hands and hide him from the cruel world. and he in turn takes care of your heart; he warms it, he tends to it like it's a garden. he waters and he weeds, he plants new seeds and he reaps what he has sowed with the softest smile in the world.
no garden can bloom without the sun.
satoru places the toothbrush in your mouth before yanking the dirty t-shirt off of his body. he raises his brows, seeking for praise. "better?"
you nod sleepily and the brush between your teeth bounces up and down, making satoru laugh again. you give him a smile and his breath hitches just a little. all foamy and pretty â he loves you so fucking much.
he goes back to his job, carefully brushing over your front teeth and then the sides. he gives your cheeks a squeeze, telling you to open up again and then he's leaning in so close that you almost choke on the paste in your mouth. a smirk tugs on his lips as he squints his eyes, glaring at your teeth like he's a proper dentist.
your fingers itch for him and you refuse to suffer when he's right there; you trace over the scars that cover his tummy, his whole body, and you hum. finally, you decide to just rest your hands on the waistband of his pyjamas â you need to be touching him, always and forever.
but the sleepiness is starting to take over; your eyes feel heavy and satoru doesn't miss your slow blinks. he speeds up his movements, whispering for you to show him your tongue. he quickly cleans it, intent on giving you his hundred percent.
when he deems that he's finally done, he takes the brush from your mouth and leans back, taking a good look at the masterpiece before him; half-asleep, mouth covered in toothpaste & content. he couldn't wish for anything else.
without giving you time to react, he lunges forward, pressing his plump lips against yours. he holds your cheeks like you're made out of glass and you grasp at his skin like he's about to fade awayâ
â but you won't break and he won't disappear.
seperating from him, you're met with the most bashful fucking smile in the world. his hands rest on his hips and he really couldn't be more proud of himself. frothy lips and sparkling eyes, you simply stare at him and just let the butterflies fill your stomach. there's no stopping them anyway.
"okay, c'mon, sleepyhead." satoru taps your thighs. "wash your mouth."
he comes up close again, his nose touching yours. "or do you want me to do that for you, too?"
he's a little cocky and he's a little smug and you think it's only fair; he has every right to be â you're wrapped around his finger like honey around a dipper. but alas, you plop off the counter and press yourself flush against him before turning around and facing the sink. he doesn't move, staying glued behind you like it's where he's meant to be.
(it is.)
his arms snake around your middle, patiently waiting for you to finish cleaning up. satoru sways his hips, gently, as if trying to lull you to sleep. he stares at you through the mirror, unable to tear his eyes from you. his own shirt drapes over your figure, soft skin peeking from under the collar, just waiting for him to press his lips against it. you feel like putty in his hold, like his own personal plushie and he has never been this excited to go to bed. he can't wait to sleep with you â to curl around you, to hug and kiss, to feel your heartbeat under his heavy head.
(every morning he wakes up already dreaming about spending the night with you again. you rest together, you heal together.)
you raise your head from the sink and satoru is already handing you a towel. you thank him with your eyes and dry yourself off. he rests his head on your shoulder and your fingers crawl between his messy white strands, you rub at his scalp and he closes his eyes. a purr reverberates through his body and then through yours and another smile makes it's way onto your face. it's inevitable; he just makes you so fucking happy.
hearts beating together, you stand there in your bathroom. it feels special, it is special â he always makes you feel like this, no matter where, no matter when; like a lock and a key, like a blanket and a pillow, like a piece of paper and a pen, like rain and thunder, like the ocean and the beachâ
â like a ray of sunlight and a blooming flower.
+ hii my beloved satoru lovers just felt like tagging you guys bc... i felt like it<333 @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @staryukis @mossmurdock @neptuneblue @lxnarphase @nkogneatho @cockaiine @kentophilia @sugulani @13curses @blankwashed i love you
ê° love is blind, but it sees all. although satoru should know better, love becomes a lunacy he clings to until he canât anymore. ê±
áŽáŽ ÉŽÉȘ. f!reader. semi-curse, mythology au. angst/tragedy. fluff. soft smut. strangers to lovers â star-crossed. satoru follows the reader a lot. body worship. satoru is eros + ares, love/war god. reader is a museum director. blends aspects of cupid x psyche lore + jjk cts. 15.5k. nsfw. à§ â§â header â§ playlist.
ACT I. UNDER THE GAZE OF LUDUS, BY SONG OF ITS LAUGHTER.
love is blind, but it sees all; love is fickle, love is knowing. it lives and dies a thrilling spectacle.
SATORU.
the delirium bred from gentleness.
it inspires, emboldens, and molds the fiery depths of passion in its hands. but love is a screeching sticky thing, all madness and frenzy nonetheless, coated in complicated and bittersweet nectar that clings to whatever it dares to touch.
love is satoru.
of course, satoru knows of love, embodies everything it both is and has the potential to become if made free and not contained within the divinity of his spirit.
he knows that love is saccharine sweet and he knows the grip it leaves behind in flesh is bloodied, a talon embedded impossibly deep. itâs not the type of thing that breathes or expands in languid pulsations; it grasps and digs and pours, flooding you with its delusion.
but a mouthpiece for mania.
love is the world satoru sees through his six eyes, all contained and divided in his left eye and right â his eros, one called ardor ê° with its three eyes: mania, pragma, and ludus ê±, and ares ê° with its three eyes: alecto, tisiphone, and megaera ê±.
love is the thick, enchanted fabric that serves as a holding for them both.
cupidâs quiver, thatâs what the other gods taunt â but still, their breaths catch in their throats if he motions to pull off the sheath, to unleash the world he sees on all of the others in quick and inescapable shots, the tips of blue and red eros mingling and devouring until the world is made hollow by an incendiary purple.
of course, he stops himself and forbids such an outcome.
after all, love is patient; love is kind.
but of course, he rivals with the temptation of it, too.
after all, love is greedy; love is evil.
as long as he loves, there will always exist a degree of love that is something akin to hatred.
truth be told, more than anything, satoru hates the gods and wishes he could leave them all to crumble under the weight of his influence, but he doesnât want to be stuck with managing the chaos he would create with his otherwise innocent glances. and the old gods would surely try to punish him even more.
he canât find the adoration in dancing around destruction. thereâs no delight in dysfunction. as such, he canât bring himself to fold in a despicable and foolish fashion.
instead, he both hides and dwells in a comfort zone â a place thatâs more a margin between worlds, crafted just for him by kenjaku the phanes himself, a limbo of sorts he can stretch at will. he calls it his infinity, an endless space where he chooses to gaze upon both the mortal world and the divine. it keeps him out of harmâs way, keeps him from being made into a weapon, and keeps him from making grave mistakes like falling prey to the devastation of his own curses again.
heâs not immune to a desire and need for love. he tries to satisfy his urges by living vicariously through others and satiates his impulses of distaste through semi-harmless trickery.
sometimes, he tugs the left side of his quiver and lets out a soft call to signal his favorite eros, ardor.
ê° when thereâs no will, which of its eyes will peek falls to the whims of the eros. ê±
âred,â heâll breathe it quietly, eyes locked on a target.
heâll feel the pressure building in the center of his eye for only a moment before a shining strip of red gleams across the space between him and his target, his eros piercing through time and space to reach its mark. when it hits â depending on the strength of his eros and which of its eyes he wills to gaze â it gives the mark a burst of affection, a rush of hormones, a flutter in their chest that explodes into unyielding devotion, or perhaps, it merely sows the seeds for love to flourish and ferment â ardor does have a bias for yearning.
other times, he calls himself distributing âfair misfortuneâ by finding individuals undeserving of ardorâs loving embrace and instead making them familiar with its cold shadow, his other eros, ares.
âblue,â heâll whisper as if afraid to be heard in the cube of his eternal silence.
heâll carefully lift the fabric over his right eye, the building of the same pressure but thicker, and heâll watch his spiteful eros seethe and slice through anything to reach its mark. it offers only distaste on the tip of the tongue of your desired, a petulant weapon that embodies all of existence with the smallest degree of love.Â
all that remains is anger and confusion, disgust and despair, revulsion and repulsion.
neither of his eros ever misses a shot, but these are delights heâs only supposed to indulge in sparingly, and harmlessly.
that is, until right now, as he stands in front of yuki the aphrodite, staring at her beautifully crude expression with disdain. he tries to process her odd request.
âyou want me to do what now?â satoru asks again, face bunching in perplexity.
yuki sighs, evidently agitated by satoruâs response and demeanor. sheâs always been a peculiar goddess to him, always adored and admired but never understood. no one could ever make sense of her motives, and for being the embodiment of beauty and pleasure, satoru has never seen her act in light of a beautiful spirit or intent.
her poise gleams with a chimerical radiance but satoru knows her heart is a shadowless void.
in front of him, she lies prettily across pearly marble, draped in robes threaded by the shimmer of stars the astraeus personally plucked from the cosmos for her. yukiâs light-colored hair flows in fluffy waves that sink to the floor, a perfect golden river to watch flow down.
âyou heard me. find the mortal girl choso dares to claimâs beauty can rival mine and shoot her with one of your little eros, make her fall in love with a pig or something â nothing cute, either, something ugly and brutish, one that smells of grime â and return to me so i can see for myself.â
the aphrodite is ruled by her pride, by her demand to be revered and highly regarded, acknowledged for power with only insidiousness to show for it.
satoru believes gods that practice no restraint and show no mercy exemplify the very things he detests about his precious blue eros, his ares. at least ares is contained, albeit forcibly. satoruâs eyes are glistening, crystalline prisons each of his eros lives behind.
âi see youâve lost your mind to vanity entirely.â satoru grumbles. âi wonât be doing that.â
âwhat?â yuki sneers, nose squishing in irritation.
with a sympathetic hum, satoru shakes his head. âi wonât be doing that and iâm insulted youâd think to even ask me â or rather, demand of me. iâm not one of your little things, yuki.â
satoru stands upright, shoulders squared as he sees yuki clearly through the fabric covering his eyes. heâs immune to her wiles with his quiver, heâs found.
but still, she makes him unbearably nervous.
âsatoru, do you forget who you speak to? i am beauty and pleasure embodied! you would really think to reject my request?â
he looks around for a moment. âuhâŠyes. do you forget who you speak to? if youâre beauty and all the subsequent notions, why do you even care how a mortal girlâs prettiness measures?â
âwell,â she huffs, sitting upright, a perfect pout on her lips that any other man would become a pool of liquid over. âchoso believes such a thing. choso.â
confused, satoru just stares. âand thatâs negating your divinely bestowed perfection how?â
yukiâs frustration erupts and a cloudy fluff comes flying at his head. satoru doesnât flinch and doesnât move as the object hits the barrier of his infinity, and then the floor, in a soundless heap.
âif you, a literal love god, canât fathom why i donât want chosoâs eyes to stray from me, then youâre no god but a pitiful fool!â she wails.
satoru sighs. âi have more important things to do in that realm than help you bully mortal girls at your discretion for taking one of your many loversâ attention away from you without knowing you exist.â
yuki clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes. âyou do nothing there worth mentioning. you merely fooled kenjaku the phanes into making you a precious domain to dwell in. youâre perfectly protected from everything while nothing is protected from you, if you donât want them to be. donât mock me when youâre a coward fashioned as a god.â
satoru didnât fool kenjaku, per se, but he certainly exploited his favor by exaggerating the peril associated with his capacity, so much so that kenjaku the phanes gave him a prison realm to lock himself in or free himself from at will. he goes into it habitually with a thick will but seldom contains the will to be released.
it is for his safety; it is for the safety of others. but itâs more a place he can breathe freely without the fear and disdain others regularly teem with when near him.
he can feel all of it, and does.
being a god does not make him indestructible to the irrational whims of emotion. in fact, satoru would argue that being a creature of loveâs spectrum means he is the irrational whims of emotions.
ê° he can never teeter too far in either direction, lest kenjaku take the privilege of his will from infinity; then, heâll only have endless imprisonment. of course, satoru can never let the other gods know of this clause, as heâs certain theyâll betray him before geto the heliosâs sun sets across the pillowy skies. ê±
the other gods are bitter, but satoruâs unusual manifestation of his divine might is deeply concerning.
ê° when he was born, gods gouged out their eyes to be free of his gaze, to be liberated from the understanding that whether his eros of madness or bliss would strike is unknown, but the degree of its damage is devastation and ruin. brilliance followed by a rapid decay. he only controls them with his quiver. should it be taken, it would set all of chaos free in every blink. ê±
so, what yuki says isnât false, but it isnât true, either.
any other time, satoru would have left the vain aphrodite unfulfilled and physically shaking with the pain of his rejection, but today, satoruâs interest is admittedly piqued.
what mortal could possibly surpass beauty and grace itself?
âiâll go see this girl, and if sheâs of threat, iâll indulge your dreadful desires, but if sheâs nothing short of a mortal girl who commits no crime against humanity nor divinity by challenging your appearance â which iâm certain of â thenâŠiâll simply leave you to suffer the same fate as toji the apollo for wasting my time.â
her eyes go wide at the sight of his nonchalant shrug and she gasps. âyou! you beast of a man! honestly! you preach and prattle about this and that only to threaten to use your eros to make my lover despise me and repel my presence after making me lovesick for them? i can be no worse than you.â
âobjectively false, you can. and are. but itâs irrelevant to argue.â he grouses with a deep sigh. âi regretfully askâŠwhat do you know of her?â
satoruâs sickened by both the perfection and menace in her grin, but yuki lulls her head back to bask in the warmth of geto the heliosâ sun.
the first time he sees you, it feels a little jarring.
guided by the hands of getoâs sun, satoru finds you quickly. his awe ricochets around his spirit, bouncy and delighted, but his gaze on you â everything about you is pristine, vivid and vibrant. it stirs something in him, makes his chest erupt with fluttering feelings and feathery tickles.
for a being born of the flawed, youâre too close to perfect. youâre the furthest from aphrodite and yet, your own charms are whimsical and songlike, your aura chiming around you in a sweet symphony that falls upon his spirit and strikes him with wonder.
inside of a large building where the art of painters and sculptors alike are displayed, an ode to the apollo no doubt, you wander tirelessly with a chipper smile on your face and a skip in your step.
your joy never falters and neither do you.
your eyes are twinkling like you woke and strung the flickers of dying stars inside them for good measure. giddy, cheeks full with elation like youâre gluttonous for it.
you smile and smile, and everyone smiles with you, for you, because of you. admirably charming, hands sweep around you in a flurry while your mouth makes shapes and babbles out words he canât make out. satoru gauges your context through rigourous observation: the motions of your arms, the twitch of your smile, the little spark of curiosity in your eyes or the determination that combusts there, too.
for a blink, satoru understands yukiâs frustrations with your existence.
he stands there, a dreadful stirring in his heart, emotions twisting and knotting until they squeeze tight in his gut and make his right eye thrum.
all of these people get to speak to you. their ears get to taste the drizzling honey of your voice. they get to receive the unfurling tenderness in their hearts from direct eye contact with you. it makes him feel ill, disgustingly ill.
right away, he hates it. he becomes the pinnacle of what it means to detest.
he does understand that such feelings are unreasonable, but neither love nor war is a source of reason, only madness.
so of course, in self-interest and personal eccentricities ê° with a pinch of spite toward yuki the aphrodite to sate the crueller parts of him ê±, he decides to watch you, to observe you closely and with great focus. for a moment, he becomes your adoring shadow, hiding within infinityâs soundless clutch where you canât hear or see him and heâs only able to capture faint murmurs of you.
heâs grateful he can see you, that no matter where you go, he can simply follow.
with his limits, of course.
ê° heâs no sukuna the zeus and certainly no yuki the aphrodite. ê±
satoru can still admire you like this, enamored and elusive.
well, until heâs standing next to you, glancing over your shoulder to read the same words you do and imagining the embosoming sound of your voice as you read them, when you turn to face him.
you jolt and jump, a feathery yelp, then immediately look up at him with a soft smile, blinking to reclaim the loss in your composure. your lips are misshapen by the fright you swallow down as you take notice of him.
âoh goodness! you scared me. d-do you need help with anything?â
satoru stands there, dazed and stupefied for a few reasons:Â
one. you can see him, which means he let his will to keep his infinity standing tall waver.
two. your voice is drenched in silky allure, a touch of benevolence over a thick layer of compassion.
three. youâre utterly bewitching, a spellbinding loveliness that lingers.
four. he can sense your saffron ghost seeping into spaces it shouldnât; he knows the scent of you will be what haunts him.
a small gasp, your words threaded by worry as you cautiously place a hand on his arm. âsir, do you have a visual impairment? did you lose your aid?â
âno, no,â satoru breathes. âi see quite clearly. my eyesâŠtheyâreâŠsensitive.â
you blink, riddled with confusion. âsensitive?â
taking in his words, you hurriedly take a step back from him, a flimsy infinity of your own to keep him out. heâs no sukuna, so heâll respect the obvious boundary youâre placing.
âthenâŠâ your voice trails, quieter now, a lullabyâs endeavor, cautious but calculating as you observe him. âis there something youâre looking for?â
and satoru isnât entirely certain why, but he feels bashful, embarrassed, and ashamed.
the tint of roseate spills across his face, filling the point of his nose and cheeks. then, in an instant, heâs gone from your vision, safely tucked behind a thick wall of space and time, watching your eyes go round with astonishment, paralyzed and unable to speak.
he watches you blink at the spot he stood for a few minutes before you slowly reach your hand out and run it through the space. satoru, amused but still flustered, canât fight the breathy chuckle that tumbles out of him.
he watches the alarm contort your face, finding your deep state of confusion adorable by every perceivable measure.
a beauty that rivals that of the aphrodite? no, one that surpasses it.
ACT II. A GARDEN IN WHICH ONLY MANIA BLOOMS.
love is blind but it sees all; love is protection, love is obsession. it snarls as much as it sings. it bares teeth to smile and to bite down.
love is blind, but it sees all; love is an open palm, love is a tight fist. it clings to only notions that mean it will persist.
SATORU.
satoru feels that keeping his closeness is inevitable.
his presence becomes more like a game he plays with you. you wander around and he matches your every step, a lingering thing that follows you pathetically and waits for you to look for him, waits for your inquisitive, questioning eyes to sweep the span of the room in knowing suspicion, remembering him and his interesting marvels.
his disappearing acts.
aside from that, he can feel the way your heart yearns for an explanation, as desire is a direct line to he and the favor of ardor.
his heart thumps each time heâs flooded with the feeling of your meek tug on him. the warmth of you is always everywhere then, filling and shaping around his bones.
he likes to appear before you when he catches you ruminating about him, when you wrestle with your notions in your lonesome as if to breed the thought that he was summoned by you rather than obsessively taking every step with you.
he only does it when youâre at this place where your labor is kindness and assistance, watching you relentlessly. only when youâre here, only when you come to this altar where toji the apollo himself would weep at the worship mortals have made of his artistic devotions. only when you willfully become part of this public spectacle. it feels fair and respectfully intrusive.
since weâre all here to observe you.
thatâs his discipline with himself, how he stops his heart from rotting from the pleasures of luxuriating in the sight of you, how he stops ardor or ares from making a mess of his divinity entirely, both monsters but harmless so long as he maintains his sanity.
a smirk as his infinity dissolves. âare you thinking about me again?â
satoru never tires of the way you squeak when he casually unveils himself. only fondness ferments in his chest when your eyes widen and your hands fly over your mouth to conceal the sound of sharp surprise. you always stare at him in awe for a moment.
âyou,â you murmur, your hand pointing right at him.
satoru sighs with a smile. âme,â
he watches you go through the motions of disbelief â slapping your own face and pinching your cheeks to test the limits of your dreams.
âwhy do you keep doing this?â you inquire in distress, brows furrowed as you clutch your head in your hands. âare you a ghost?â
satoru canât fight the way his lips curl into a smile as he cracks a heart-shimmering laugh. âyou think iâm an apparition?â
âi donât know what i think!â you whisper harshly, eyes pointing around the perimeter as you fear being heard talking to yourself. again. âokay? but thereâs no way youâre real. iâm losing it.â
âreal or false, you worry about the wrong things, i fear.â he informs you as he rests in a seat. âi keep telling you exactly who i am.â
you give him a hard look, one that he adores as much as the smile you reserve for your patrons, and you snort. âas if i believe youâre the love god, cupid.â
âcupid is such a weak-willed name you mortals have plagued me with. even the other gods spite me over it. itâs nowhere near as bolstering as satoru the eros, love and warâs divine archer.â he announces himself in a wistful voice that makes the corner of your mouth subtly twitch.
your face painted in feigned surprise, you ask, âyou? a divine archer?â
âyes, me. a divine archer. is that amusing?â his head leans to the side as he notes your biting smile.
âno, no,â you shake your head. âitâs justâŠyou donât seem like the kind with good aim? you know, perpetual blindfold and all.â
satoru huffs a laugh. âlooks are as deceiving as love and war.â
âhmâŠâ you look him over critically, a finger resting against your chin before you motion at his body. âif youâre cupid and an archer, whereâs your bow? and your arrows? wings? why arenât you more cherub-like?â
satoruâs lips curl and curve in disgust of your notion. âcherub-like? iâd rather die. i donât need your useless, manmade tools. my eyes are my bow; the eyes of my eyes are my arrows. this perpetual blindfold is a quiver that holds them, lest i douse the world in the devoted delusions of love in its totality and leave it bleeding out war, an endless wound that cannot dissolve until nothing is left. you would never want to see my wings. it would mean the aforementioned.â
baffled and mortified, thatâs how his tactless remarks leave you. you awkwardly squeak and clamp your lips shut tight, looking down as your eyes squint in confusion.
âiâŠforget i asked.â you jostle your head as if to shake away the memory of his admission. âeven if you actually are cupid, your true titleâs too long. carving it in stone and etching it in gold wouldâve been a big hassle for such a morbid freak.â
satoruâs eyes narrow, masked by his quiver. âare you mocking me, pretty thing?â
âconsidering i think iâve lost my mind, iâm mocking myself.â you grumble and grip your head. âhow do i make you go away? how do i get you out of my mind?â
he hums, a finger tapping on his chin before he shrugs and chirps, âyou donât.â
you pause, cocking your head to the side. âwhat do you mean?â
âi meanâŠâ he stands and stretches to his full height. âiâve taken an interest in you, and i donât see myself growing apathetic anytime soon. the scandal of it all is thrilling enough; everyone in the olympus murmurs about the mortal girl that supposedly rivals even aphroditeâs beauty, but only myself and two others have actually seen you. i canât say iâve had my fill of being greedy with you.â
for a moment youâre quiet, staring at him as you take in his words. then, you clutch your gut as you begin bellowing. you laugh so loudly it startles him. it sends him into the center of a blossoming, though, an abrupt descent. the sound of it makes his heart burst with a fondness so sweet, his head feels airy and light. if you could see his eyes, you would witness the moment he falls into a pool of ensnared devotion and drowns.
instead, you hear him huff as his palms curl into tender fists.
ânow i know youâre lying.â you say through giggles. âis this an elaborate pick-up scheme? me, a rival of aphroditeâs beauty? who says that?â
even his irritation is polluted by admiration and passion. âitâs only the truth. you caught the eye of choso the aether. thatâs one of the gods the aphrodite enjoys tinkering with so itâs left her feeling embarrassed and looked down on. she wants me to have a look at youâŠand humble you.â
âh-humble me?â you sputter nervously, every spark of humor dying on your breath.
it doesnât take an oracle to determine the conclusion you arrive at.
satoru shakes his head, stepping closer out of instinct. of course, you arenât aware of how grossly comfortable heâs become ingulding in your proximity.
he rests a palm on your head, the weight of it making you groan. âyour pretty head is full of useless worries. iâll never harm you in any way.â
itâs the first time satoru truly touches you.
everything sings; everything shines. all of it shimmers.
your brows bunch and your nose wrinkles, an adorable habit he stores away. âthenâŠare you really just here to watch me?â
âeh, no,â he shakes his head, grinning. âiâm intended to make you fall in love with something as hideous and unsightly as yukiâs bruised perception wishes you were, but iâve decided i wonât indulge her antics of vanity this time.â
he pats your head and withdraws, afraid to take too much too soon, afraid for his already consuming desire to become so willfully edacious.
you give him a pointed look but your eyes never leave him. âbut youâll indulge yourself?â
satoru grins and gives a simple response, one he stuffs to its brim with rhapsody and playfulness as it slips from his lips. âwithout hesitation. i didnât find you first but iâll be the one to keep you.â
âwho knew a love god would be so shameless.â
his response is a recital, an avowal memorized in its every angle by his tongue, without falter, something embedded he exhumes just to dedicate to you.
large hands cradle your face, his voice a poem unraveling, âlove is blind but it sees all; love is pride, love is humility. it stands, stretched to the full height of its glory, and it kneels, sinking into the depths of its reverence.â
satoru watches your moony expression form and his lips curve.
âyou donât even know me.â you murmur, wispy and uncertain but still coated in captivation.
quipped from a clever god, âthen tell me what you want me to know. iâll master you â mind, body, and spirit. whatever you wish.â
you stare, concern filling your every breath, tainting every second you spend peering into him. blinking, you watch him before your eyes flicker down. âthisâŠthis isnât real. it canât be.â
âso you circle back to doubt?â satoru snickers, pulling away from you as he observes you with a cocked head. âhave i truly not convinced you of my existence? surely you donât believe if i were an apparition that you, in all your naivety and mortality, would even have the means to perceive me.â
your face drops, possibly insulted by truth. âare you calling me weak and stupid?â
âweak? yes. although, you really canât help it. you mortals are born a frail people. stupid? i wouldnât assign such an attribute to you, no.â
you huff, indignant, and look off to the side. âwhatever youâre implying, i resent it.â
âyouâre merely human. you have shortcomings you canât help and sight in which you lack. not to ring the horn of hubris, but should you not show gratitude to a god that chooses you to gaze upon him?â
you stare at him blankly before asking â no, sneering, âshould i have to show gratitude for being followed home and watched?â
a foolish grin. âiâve never followed you home. rest assured, i keep a tight grip on my own vices. i try to behave from time to time.â
âis that so?â you grumble, disbelieving.
âit is so.â satoru sighs, his tone resolute and carved out of his disgust. âiâm a god of love, not of perversities. iâm no sukuna the zeus. i would rather you think me an apparition, a falsehood, than be thrown into a cast of similarities with him.â
thereâs traces of a laugh bubbling up, but you cough it away, much to satoruâs amusement. âisâŠzeus as awful as the myths say?â
âit depends on what they say, but heâs likely worse.â satoru grouses in disdain.
sukuna the zeus is not one with an ounce of good or mercy in his heart. born a monster of a god with a taste for man, sukuna has shown he only wishes to watch all the realms move to the tune of his malevolent volatility.
you take a breath and plop down to rest in your chair at the small personal table. âi canât believe this is my life. sitting in my office talking to a love god about the sincere realities of mythology and deities.â
he hums, perching himself on the corner of the table. âdoes this not make you blessed?â
âbeing followed around sounds closer to a curse.â
he lies, because love is honest but love is deceiving. âi have important duties to tend to, iâll have you know. i donât waste all my spare time observing your precious whims.â
itâs a blatant, seething lie, a vibrant and colorful one heâll parade as the truth to preserve his pride.
he does waste all his spare time observing your every whim.
heâs honest in his commutes, not ever following you home outside the walls of this dimly-lit den. although, the desire to eats away at him. ares howls frequently in the night.
thereâs force in the pull your passing thoughts have on him, but he can never tell you how you leave indents in his spirit whenever you think of him, whenever you ruminate on your musings of his eyes, your irrepressible thirst to see them and name their pigment, when youâre lost in your wonderings of him, when you yearn for his peculiar presence.
all of it makes him putty. all of it squeezes and stretches him. all of it changes his shape.
âw-well, if youâre going to keep this up, i obviously canât stop you. i ask that you maintain respectful boundaries, including not appearing so abruptly before me.â
satoru merely smiles down at you âsmittenâ absolutely adoring you in every way. âi willâŠabide by whatever words you wish to use as chains to keep me here.â
emboldened by your charm and indulging a bit too much in his own ardorâs blissful blood, satoru grabs your hands, cradles them in his own as he peers into your glittering eyes.
itâs then that he notices the way you look back at him as if you can see right through every barrier heâs made, every one that was forced on him, every one he hid behind. right to the core of him.
it feels like although he controls the war brewing in his irises by tucking his weapons behind a sheath, he doesnât have to hide.
not from you.
he conceals his eyes but you look at him as if they gaze bare.
satoru brings your soft fingers to his lips, supple flesh tingling against your hands with the soothing vibrations of the cosmos.
âi willâŠâ he breathes. ââŠadore you, if you allow me. protect you with my life. make your heart as immortal as mine in the way i only speak eternal devotion over you.â
enchanted, your lips part and he feels the way yearning passes through first in a soft pant. he feels you pulling on him, tugging on his heartstrings. making his eros tremble. ardorâs will to pledge fealty to the flutter of your lashes as you wake; aresâ promise to ravage all that oppose or threaten you.
instead of accepting his declaration, you ask, âw-whatâs so special about me? what do you do thatâs so uninteresting that you wouldâŠadore me, of all things. of all people.â
what does he do in the time heâs away?
a sleepless god, he waits until you leave for rest to find other things to do. he goes where love calls him, where it pulls him closer and begs for his embrace.
âi love, of course. i do my best to keep war from erupting as a result of it by helping others love in doses. i watch, mostly. sometimes i play.â
you ask, with an airy tone of confusion, âplay?â
he nods.
âas iâm a war god, i have to release my inevitable frustrations somewhere. gently, of course. i wouldnât want to leave the world in ruinâŠagain.â satoru chuckles, soft lips leaving feathery kisses all along your fingers.
one. two. three blinks. a frantic whisper. âleaveâŠthe world in ruin? again?â
suddenly, you pull your hands from his grasp and he lets them slip through. he isnât surprised by your reaction. in retrospect, perhaps he should have eased you into that fact. you seem to be in disbelief over his identity already.
âwell, yes. there was a time when i was a young god that traipsed the heavens and below causing all the trouble i could with my eros. iâve matured so donât concern yourself with my past.â
itâs then that the door swings open to your office. as fast as they push through, satoruâs infinite prison is up and so is he. the sudden streams of voices become muffled, dull and blurry.
he watches you, a look of deep contempt taking his expression as you keep glancing right where he stands â when you could see him before these new mortals came to interrupt â before they bulldozed through to steal your eyes and attention away from him again.
gritted teeth and a clenched fist, this is how heâs left.
ares simmers at the slight of it all, the derogative undertones in satoru not having you to himself when he wants and having to accept such a condition without qualms.
satoru adores you, thinks the words you speak make you shine brighter than getoâs sun. he thinks the way you smile would make yuki the aphrodite vengeful. but he hates being at the mercy of you and your fragille, mortal dealings. he wants you back right now.
ardor soothes him, reminds him of his commandments while he waits and watches you tensely. like a mantra, he hears it over and over until his breathing steadies.
love is blind but it sees all; love is tender smiles and loosened flesh, love is temperance and tolerance. it is the willingness we make labors of.
it doesnât take much time before satoru becomes visibly perturbed by the constant intrusions and obligations that stand in the way of the words he wants to hear flutter from your lips, velvet petals of sweet sentiment falling softly over him.
instead, his efforts are often interrupted, often put on hold or silenced to tend to the incompetence of your underlings.
itâs becoming tiresome; he makes no move to hide his grievance.
he tells himself to breathe. he can feel something monstrous and thick filling his gut. a sludge of an emotion, weighing on all of him, stickiness slinking up the cavity of his torso, caching all of him.
it takes every modicum of his will not to be petulant and do the same with you, pull you into the walls of his infinity, an extension of the loverâs prison, so only he has the privilege of gazing over the object of his affection and obsession.
you â the one who inspires the poetry in his blood to boil.
ares hums within him, makes his right eye feel heavy, delighted by the envious rush and what it makes satoru envision.
sheâll never have the time i deserve with her, that belongs to me. it would be an easy problem to solve.
sheâll hate me of my own accord.
of course, ardor reminds him of loveâs addictive embrace, to loosen his grip to maintain his strong footing. acts of war are easy, but acts of love feel better.
he prefers it.
he prefers you. to all others. he knows what it means to have you and the sacrifice that comes with keeping you. a pretty and sparkling treasure, laden with novelty for him to marvel at and little mechanisms that make him feel content. together.
he takes a deep breath, and finds himself unclenching his hands as he sits, stretching his fingers to loosen the tension. satoru closes his eyes; he meditates on ardorâs fervent whispers which usually he subdues to know mental clarity and peace.
love is patient; love is kind. love holds the weight of its temptations.
in contrast, ares seethes.
love is imposing; love is momentum. love holds the weight of its triumphance. it never cowers in the face of restraint.
satoru sighs and drowns out their never-ending bickering.
satoru watches how time trudges on, and stretches itself thin between the two of you. he remains ardent and attached, endlessly and proudly devoted to you.
the sticky feeling comes back one late afternoon when satoru dutifully follows you into the elevator, unseen and unheard. as he does each day to bid you a silent goodbye, squeezing out every second of your presence he can.
all things follow their natural rhythm â until, the presence of another lingers for no reason. he smiles too endearingly at you, and touches your shoulder too casually.
satoru can feel it rolling off this man, obviously an underling, but has no boundaries in how he approaches you. clearly above him in every facet, satoruâs distaste and resentment bubble to life, face scrunching up in disgust.
the man reeks of it, his fondness for you. his longing.
in his infinity, he dwells in swelling silence, his insides in tightly-wound knots. satoruâs chest rises and falls â his stiffened shoulders, too. ares bursts to life when he sneers, angry eyes zoned in on the wretched man.
the audacity to desire her so openly while being so weak and undeserving.
for a moment, satoruâs fingers twitch. he shouldnât do it. he told himself that he wouldnât with you, never with you.
and yet, satoru canât help the way he reaches up and pinches the top half of his quiver, the barrier that holds in the rapture his gaze would cause to dawn on all that exists. he does his best to keep the effects small, hardly noticeable but effective. peeling down the cover of his quiver, calling on ares eye of megaera, his eros of disgust, satoru watches a blue stripe swipe across the air, penetrate through all it must, and catch you on the left side of your neck.
you donât wince, but when it hits you, your eyes blink rapidly, as if just given some injection that you feel shooting into your veins.
as you stand before him, satoru watches with satisfaction as your eyes â once alight with delight and trading even the faintest drop of desire â go dark and dull. your facial expression falls, your smile fading and emptiness taking its place. a grin spreads across his face, pleased now.
he isnât sure what you say but he watches the manâs eyes widen slightly before his brows crinkle in confusion and you offer him a professional salutation, your body language straight and alert, then you walk right around the underling, continuing on with a slight roll of your shoulders, shaking off aresâ excess, heâs sure.
what is one more secret?
and yes, satoru will tuck it away with him, another truth he hides under the pink of his tongue with glee.
love is honest, love is true; love has no need to tremble behind the cowardice of manipulation.
and for a moment, satoru does feel guilty.
but when you exit the building, he waits for a moment and appears right next to you, his infinity down. he doesnât usually try to pass the boundaries but as you walk away, his feet continue to follow, as if their departure is beyond his will.
âif youâre thinking of following me home, donât.â you grumble sharply, picking up the speed in your steps. âthe nerve,â
satoruâs head tilts to the side in wonder.Â
are you aware?
âiâll stay here, if you wish.â satoru says, stopping just at the edge of the property. âiâll be here when you return tomorrow.â
when you hear his voice, you pause and turn to face him. you seem shocked to see him, perhaps regarding his presence as the underling he handcrafted your fresh disgust toward.
you blink, the edge on your voice dissipating as you reply. âiâŠi didnât think iâd see you again today.â
satoru takes a careful step forward. âi didnât know you wished to. i only planned to watch you leave, but you seemed particularlyâŠupset.â
for a moment, you just stand there. satoru takes your contemplation and tilts his head back, basking in the warmth of the heliosâ vibrant sun and grins to himself, feeling his insides ablaze with his admittedly orchestrated glory. he can feel you tugging on his heartstrings, of course he can. especially when itâs all for him.
âdonât want me too much or i might start getting the wrong idea, pretty thing.â
bashful, you shy away, tilting your face with the softest sigh. he doesnât mean to make you nervous but heâs had enough of playing coy and never fully defining the lines of which your boundaries are drawn or willing to stretch.
cautiously, his hands clutch your shoulders, nearly breathless from the warmth in his belly, nearly dizzy from feeling himself grant your desires and resolve your yearning.
you want him to touch you; you want daring fingers to ghost along your skin.
but his touches now are more innocent in fashion, fond at best.
âtell me what you want, pretty.â he murmurs, his hidden eyes gazing over the features of your face, a thick thumb brushing over your plump lip. âiâve chosen to adore you, so naturally iâll give you anything of which you desire and derive pleasure.â
you donât notice when his infinity reaches out to hold you, to cradle your frame. you donât notice that the sounds of the world around you muffle and go numb, sucked into his embrace that stretched on through eternity.
soft and feathery, your response flutters, âyou can walk home with me, but iâŠi wonât let you inside.â
ardorâs spirit blazes within him â emboldened and vivacious, ready to relish in new proximity.
a chuckle rumbles in his chest; a sly grin spreads across his lips. âany time spent in the presence of my beloved is time i deeply cherish.â
youâre flustered â hot face and wet lips, side-swiped eyes and a wary glance. but still, you walk alongside him, snug in his infinity, step by step.
ACT III. THE DILIGENCE OF PRAGMAâS EMBRACE.
love is blind, but it sees all; love is expansive, love is all-consuming. it takes even the shape of nothingness, clings to its empty form, and stretches it further.
love is blind, but it sees all; love is faith, love is lingering. it would wait an eternity at an entrance it knows with unearned certainty will open.
SATORU.
time flows on, and satoru weaves himself around adoration with ease, your name a flowering breath on his lips whenever the time permits.
you entertain his senseless notions. you wait for him, more voracious and fervid as days move along, as if itâs all you ever have to do. your melodic laughter travels down the beautiful marble-plated halls, the waves of its sound etched into the ridges of intricate designs that decorate the ceiling and line the floors.
he tunes his infinity to your perception, stretching it around the whole of you, making it wider to mold around the specificities of your shape, around the breathiness of your voice.
an endless indention in himself just for you.
all so the symphonic outburst of your elation is only his to hear, his joy to cultivate and claim. all naturally, too. he thinks he adores that most about you.
loving you is a natural reaction to mingling with your existence.
the fondness and affection that seeps out of you when he lets himself freely feel your call remains untouched by his divine eyes. he keeps them securely imprisoned behind his quiver. he swears heâll never let them touch you again since his last provocation.
he doesnât need to anymore. he has so much of your attention that he no longer reasons the necessities of envy, jealousy, or spite of all things.
but still, indulgent as ever, heâll always take as much of you as youâre willing to give.
gluttony is as fair as war in love, to him.
âare you nearly ready to go?â satoru grumbles, watching as you make furious clacking noises at your desk. âall this dreadful noise. what are you doing?â
you snort. âiâm typing. iâm a museum director. i both receive and deliver emails.â
âyour typing is tedious and the sound is awful. does it not annoy you in the slightest?â
shrugging, your eyes never leave your screen. âitâs just what iâm used to. you should be used to the sound by now, considering you never go away while iâm working.â
âfalse,â he protests with a pout. âi make myself scarce for your littleâŠconclaves.â
your typing pauses and your eyes dart up to stare at him for a moment. âmy meetings are fundamental to my position here which, again, is fundaââ
âfundamental to your livelihoodâŠyes, yes, i know. we all know as you only force this mantra on us every chance that presents itself. youâre worse than ardor. are you not tired?â
âof you? sometimes. of my job? yes.â a short response as your typing resumes, tormenting him with enforced patience.
he shifts, sitting up in the tufted chair he always drags next to you and sinks down into to sulk about waiting for your attention.
âdo you prefer me over this place?â is all satoru hears in your sometimes and inquires about. âwhat do you like most about me?â
you laugh. âlike about you? nothing at all.â
thereâs a quiver in your words; you lie. of course you do, love is pride, after all.
satoru takes your hand, ever brave, ever dauntless. he brings your curved knuckles to his lips. any other time you would shake off his affectionate pestering, but your desire sings as you feel his lips graze over the ridges and dips of your fingers.
âwell, my most beloved, i like everything about you.â
your body shifts and your head snaps in his direction, eyes lingering on him, curious and probing.
âis that so?â
a terse nod. âit is so. i adore you. i love you. iâll linger here for as long as you do.â
today, he hears something new. itâs something small and playful, uttered under a meek tone and a thick blanket of apprehension, but he hears it ring true above it all â the love.
âyou did swear to protect me, after all.â
satoru smiles, strengthened by all the ways in which you make his heart weak. âof course, iâll commit to my devotions.â
wispily. fluttering. adoringly you sigh, âas you should.â
ardor and ares both coat his tone. âfor you, iâll do anything.â
these days satoru walks you home; these days satoru slips inside quietly after you, your hand laced obligingly in his â tugging and pulling, all pining and impatience.
closer. you always want him closer.
his hands are always greedy and grabby, taking what he wants in the name of pleasure, but they become gluttonous monsters when the door closes.
your hips are taut to his as he presses you to the wall, your cheek cold against the dull-toned paint and drywall, his warm tongue licking stripes from your collarbone up to your ear.
his pants huff into your ears, steamy and thick; your wet whimpers graze against the wall, all of it enticing him, making him grip you even harder â one hand with fingers digging into your hips, one gripping your jaw to prep your lips for an engrossing kiss.
itâs not enough but he canât wait on enough.
satoru tugs you along to your bedroom, his muscles flexing and twitching with need. itâs taking everything not to spread you wide on the hallway floor. once your bed is in sight, youâre pushed onto your back, your hands gripping the fabrics of his finely stitched robes to pull him down with you.
the thickness of satoruâs knee is a median between your legs to keep them pried apart while his large body hovers. one arm above your head, the other gripping your hand and knotting your fingers in his.
âdo you know what youâve done to me?â he breathes shakily, lips still pillowing over yours as he leans his forehead against your own. âdo you know how hard it was to resist you today?â
âno, i donât. tell me.â playful words woven between passionate kisses.
his lips latch to your neck, grunting as he loses his silent battle with his urge to bite and pinch your skin. ânear impossible. you mortals are different. everything clings to you so perfectly. and all day. all day. all i could think of was getting my hands on you, caressing your curves, kissing every inch of you.â
satoru wants to love you like this â obsessively, indulgent to the point of painful, unbridled with need forged from greed. he laps at your neck, impish whines elicited from you with every motion.
âyou controlled yourself well. good boy.â amusement and arousal blend together on your tongue; he wants to know the taste of it.
âdonât patronize me like an animal.â satoru grits, untangling your hands to hike up the fabric of your skirt and part your thighs. âiâm a god, not your plaything, not your little pet.â
wit unrelenting, he can hear the smirk on your lips. âwellâŠyou do follow me around like a lost puppy.â
âif i went anywhere else, my love would surely have a fit.â he muses, nipping at your neck with playful force, making you yelp underneath him.
lips trail down with ease and your fingers slide into thick, pearly tufts. âthis is true. maybe i should get you a leash.â
âhush,â he growls, biting you in spite.
you tug his hair, pulling the god by his nape, granting you a lewd sound, a mewl so slick and pathetic it wets the air. his mouth collides with yours in a sloppy kiss, tongues lapping over the other, a whimpering mess as he tears away at the intricately woven robes that always drown him. it reveals all of him to you: every curve of his build, the long and toned limbs, broad-shouldered and big, every inch of thickness in his muscles, the glaze of lust that glistens in the way all of him flexes with every staggered breath.
you get all of him. leaking length and all.
the fabric of your skirt bundled up the top of your thighs, your legs parted before him â his hands canât help but wander in curiosity and delight. ardor compels him to hold you close, to keep your skin flush against his, a warmth he can sigh into. ares compels him to grab and grip and claw the pleasure right out of your body to claim for himself, doomed to the brutality and ferocity of need.
âi donât mean to be impatient, but i donât want to wait anymore. i canât.â he rasps and whines. âi canât wait. i need to feel you around me.â
thatâs as much forewarning as he can give before he yanks down your panties and pushes his way between slick folds, a relieved moan as he buries himself inside and grips your thigh for steadiness, releasing it once he establishes a slow but thorough rhythm. each time his thrusts carry him back into you, your moans fill the air and your hands travel needily down his back.
âmy love,â he breathes shakily.
satoru nuzzles his face into your neck, panting heavily as he moves his hips slowly, enjoying the tepid feeling of your walls and the pleasure of tight embrace. he bites down, needy teeth seeking grounding, and grunts from the feeling of unyielding bliss blossoming in his gut.
a soft mewl, tender and hesitant. âs-satoru,â
âperfect.â he sighs, his hips melting into yours. âlet me hear you.â
and you do. only a language of urgency spoken between your bodies, the bed a culture of devotion and cacoethes. your hands, ever-enthused maunderers, travel through ivory tussocks and tug, oh so innocently, on the knot of fabric tied around the middle of his head.he stiffens. his movements still but he breathes heavily. âdonât.â
he moves his palm from grasping and clutching the meat of your thigh, now reaching to wrangle in the explorations of one of your trespassing hands. he locks his fingers around yours, hips rocking while he brings them to his lips, kitten licks accompanied by a chorus of both your whines.
âwhat? you never remove it. i want to see your eyes. youâre my lover.â your voice is enchanted by love and inspired.
in love with him. truly and genuinely in love.
he can feel it fluxing and flowing throughout him, starting from his sternum, lotus-like and flowering, each time he pushes in, feeling your yearning explode inside him while you pulse around him.
the taste of adoration is sweet when he kisses you, too.
âi know.â a tender mumble. âbut my eyes are unlike yours. i can stay by your side for all of time. i can make it so eternity never separates us, but you can never look into my eyes, okay?â
your fingers squeeze his tight, but your voice is soft and shaky, trembling as you take his slow grinding. âis thisâŠa godâs problem?â
satoruâs kisses are erratic and consumingâmixtures of plump pecks, a lapping tongue, and gentle tugs on your lips. the only constant is the ferocity of his panting: in your mouth, on your skin, in the dips and crevices of flesh he finds.
he nods as he keens and whispers, a twinge in his heart, âthis godâs curse.â
âokay.â your free hand still clutching his hair, you grip and tug until he lifts his head to face you, all to leave a gentle kiss on his lips. âi love you. as long as i can have you by my side, i donât have to see anything you donât want me to see. iâll be curious, but i wonât peek.â
thereâs a swelling in his chest that makes him think he may just burst, a rupture of exaltation and honor. full and clinging to new feelings of closeness. satoru chuckles and pecks your lips again and again, more pressure applied with each kiss to ensure his devotions are sealed by another.
âare you becoming sweet for me?â
âiâd rather die.â the sneer in your voice becomes a sigh sung to the tune of ecstasy.
a giddy smile. another nip at your bruising flesh, a rush of love in the quickening pace of his hips.Â
âyou knowâŠiâll never let that happen.â
he feels it first in the dead of night, sukuna the zeus and his incessantly demanding calls, but he doesnât leave right away. he canât. youâre wrapped around him, limbs entangled with his as usual. youâre resting peacefully. your heart is calm.
he canât ruin that. he wonât.
your arms are locked around his frame, clutching him with all the strength you can. your breathing is steady and relaxed, head tucked under his chin. youâve been sleeping more, sleeping better, since he started staying. youâre more refreshed upon waking. your smile, already knee-weakening and dazzling in its composite to satoru, is even more brilliant, more authentic.
and truthfully, he isnât ready to leave your grasp.
your hands are the only things that know how to hold him well.
theyâre calling and calling, reaching and reaching â all the gods. he can feel the irritation of their desire to see him unfurling throughout his body, tainting the time he wants to spend being foolishly in love with you, and he subdues it.
heâs not hiding out so much as heâs settling in and making a home.
infinity is only fair if it includes you, too; reality is only full if it includes him. satoru spends a lot of time finding a fair balance between both.
sometimes he gets to hold you in the comfort of your room, his infinity a blanket over you both, spending the night staring into an ether and relishing in the pinnacle of safety he feels while you sleep. ardor fills him with hymns of new avowals, each like a little burst of accomplished joy, in marvel at its new, unique discoveries.
love is security. love is sanctuary. love is an idle season. love is stillness. love is ease. love is rest. love is staying even longer. love is waiting for tomorrow. love is hold me. love is let me.
when your eyes flutter awake, the sorrow cascades and drenches him.
itâs harder for him to leave when youâre so committed to doing the things he adores, such as gracing the dawn of day with your waking breath and sleepy eyes, your languid movements, the way you tangle yourself more intricately with him.
âpretty thing,â he dotes fondly.
satoru leaves a soft kiss on your forehead first. he drinks up your sigh, gentle and drowsy, then presses his next kiss to the tip of your nose. your morning eyes peer; he kisses both cheeks in tender succession.
you hum happily. âgâmorning.â
âmine,â hushed and sweet as he finally kisses your lips, lingering. âa gâmorning indeed.â
you pout and narrow your eyes. âare you making fun of me? iâll kick you out.â
âi would never.â he mumbles in amusement. âi have to leave regardless. so take my love while you have the chance. donât waste time being bratty about it.â
he says it casually, the privilege of an immortal godâs tongue at the prospect of time passing. but you freeze and stare with suddenly widened eyes.
âleaâŠving?â you murmur, head tilted as if confused by the word, as if averse to the feeling of it on your tongue. you sit up abruptly, looking at him in shock. âare you leaving me?â
satoru could have cried from the fear in your voice. the slight quiver, the heightened pitch, and all the anguish swimming around your eyes in anticipation.
they glisten and all of him crumbles to dust.
ânot forever,â he assures you and rises to embrace you. âiâll be back, but i do have to go and it might be for a while.â
âwhat? satoru, what are you talking about? you never said anything about leaving.â your voice is pained and ringing with betrayal. âso youâre just leaving?â
he sighs deeply, keeping you up against his chest. âiâve been bothered for weeks now by other gods and now the zeus is involved. i canât exactly ignore him despite wanting to.â
âyou said you would stay by my side.â
when satoru hears you sniffle, he tries to make sense of the shame he feels unravelling in his gut. he tries to understand how this might feel for you, insecurely attached to his presence but loving him this much despite it only to be told at random youâre being left for an unforeseeable amount of time.
he finds himself pleading because right now it feels like love is humility and love is kneeling.
âplease,â he murmurs. âiâll be back. no matter what, iâll be back. donât be angry with me. i love you so much. please.â
somehow, it only makes the soft crying become longer and louder. âiâm not crying because iâm angry at you! iâm crying because i wasnât expecting it and iâll miss you.â
it takes him one hour to tell you heâll miss you, too, without words and emotion betraying him. it takes two for him to be willing to peel himself away from you long enough to say goodbye.
he wonders if heâll recover from the feeling of you yearning for his return before he even fully departs.
ACT IV. BITE MARKS IN THE SHAPE OF MAGAERAâS DISGUST.
love is blind but it sees all; love is clarity, love is contradiction. it blurs the lines of lunacy and devoutness with intent â lucid and deliberate â all to live there.
YOU.
from the dawn of the week, everything is unusual.
first, satoru is called away to the olympus out of the blue and canât fully disclose why. now gone for the third day with no contact, your anxiety is heightened and lengthened, wondering if it was all an elaborate dream bred of illness. then, your work days are full of random hiccups and hang-ups. all the odds are seemingly against you.
the only thing championing this experience is your ability to long for him.
now, as you arrive home, youâre met with the most peculiar sight.
a tall, paler woman, sparkling with beauty in the glimmer of the sun, with long and flowing locks of gold that reach the ground; the tresses gleam, too. she stands as still as a statue and as beautiful as any artwork, her every feature chiselled to perfection. as you walk up to your door, her eyes catch you and a slow smile stretches across supple lips.
captivating but daunting.
you notice her clothing, light and twisted white fabrics, the familiar and cosmic-looking twinkles woven into the seams. youâre instantly reminded of those intricate twists you watch satoru perform dutifully. you wonder, for a moment, if this is someone satoru knows â a goddess, perhaps.
âuhâŠhello,â you chirp sweetly, smiling just as prettily. you watch the womanâs face go blank in an instant. all expression vanishes, her star-like eyes flittering with something you canât quite name. awkwardly, your gaze darts before looking at her once more. âare you looking for someone?â
for a moment, she merely observes you with a blank expression. but then, a soft tenderness tugs at her features, tugs at your heart to bear witness, and she smiles.
âyou must be the mortal thing thatâs kept him hidden all this time.â her voice is a song, sweet and melodic. so soothing you miss the way she sharply eyes you up and down, sneering. âthis is all?â
she sounds confused in her asking, quiet for a moment, and then holding her curved waist tightly while her laughter becomes a symphony in the air around you. your heart dives into your gut, enamored by her presence and natural grace.
âhere i was thinking his extended absence was a witness of my disgrace but they were all useless worries. of course! i knew they would be. they must! yuki the aphrodite, the divine vessel of beauty and desire, could never truly be bested by the blemishes of mortalityâs weakness to time.â
you donât know it right then, but the day you meet this goddess, yuki the aphrodite, the divine vessel of beauty and desire, your life is doomed to descend into a flurry of utter chaos.
âiâsorry, who are you?â you ask, trying to shake away the foginess of your mental state. âare youâŠis it satoru youâre looking for?â
she sighs, mumbling to herself. âi suppose i shouldnât waste the efforts of my venture.â
âwhat was that?â you ask, struggling to make sense of her words. your thoughts are muddled by her pristine presence.
âno,â she finally replies, roseate eyes twinkling and capturing all your wonder. âiâm here for you, mortal girl. i have something of great importance to discuss. take me in and prepare your offerings for me.â
you donât believe her; you trust him â you donât want to believe her; you want to trust him.
doubt creeps in slowly in the dead quiet of the night, a languid steep when youâre sleeping and you canât go with him, when you realize you can never go with him.Â
'mortals donât set foot in the divine realm the same way the living donât set foot in the underworld.'
heâs vague in the details of his disclosure. before, satoru used to be so honest, he became tactless and blunt. now, heâs perceivably more calculated.
you notice. it riddles you.
why the abrupt movements and obvious secrecy if he isnât lying to you about it all, about why he showed up in front of you, why he courted you, who he was supposedly answering to?
in your frantic mind, you continue to hear yuki the aphroditeâs song of a voice.Â
'itâs the weight of his consequences; heâs cursed to unending solitude.'
'gods donât love mortals; we use them for fodder.'
satoru says he loves all but heâs never been in love, that heâs always been alone until you, that heâd been certain his immortal life would be doomed to that notion perpetually, but claiming you and making you the center of his devotions made a new god of him.
'he lies. he kills. he unleashed war on all the world in a blink for sport shortly after being born. heâs no man. heâs a monster thatâs supposed to be imprisoned to loneliness. of course, he would not tell the mortal he manipulates heâll squash them in his palm to sate the old gods and lift his curse.'
you remember what he said near the beginning of this unorthodox love: well, as iâm a war god, i have to release my inevitable frustrations somewhere. gently, of course. i wouldnât want to leave the world in ruinâŠagain.
your lips purse together.
you want so badly to trust him, to be in his corner without hesitation, but aphrodite pointed out inconsistencies you now question and they canât all be a result of coincidence.
'his eyes hold the truth, all of it; it is why he wills your ignorance.'
'satoru canât be trusted, but heâll know i plan to turn him in to the zeus if i attempt to get closer.'
he made you swear that you would never remove his quiver, never look into his eyes but the why of his boundary confuses and frightens you. if he only plans to use your love for him to sacrifice you to the old gods in exchange for true freedom from his infinity, you canât stay here in a doomed paradise with him, biding your time in feigned bliss and counting down your days.
if satoru is deceiving you, using you to hide from the zeus and plot the initiations of war, then continuing to love him is a willful act of brutality against man.
but if the aphrodite is lying to you, deceiving you, then whatever makes satoru fear your gazes meeting will come true. such odds are poor but youâve made your choice.
the sacrifice for solving must be the comfort of ignorance.
'use this, if you wish to see the truth of him in his eyes. force sleep on him. remove his quiver. wait until he wakes. you will know then, the moment you look into his eyes, all that heâs done and will do.'
so when satoru comes home from whatever god-bearing duties of the zeus he claims, you decide to brew him tea.
it takes you a long time to let him go when he first arrives home, a long time to relinquish your hold on unblemished intimacy, but he doesnât mind and even welcomes it. you do your best to disregard the ardent tone in his greetings, in his soft laments of yearning and claims of the weight of your absence being heavy in his chest.
you do your best to ignore the way he tugs your hand, how he wraps his arms around your waist, how he clings close to you.
it almost makes you hesitant to lead him to your dining table. almost.
he sighs upon sitting, stress heavy in his voice. guilt screams within you. you shouldnât steep his tea with the scentless liquid, but curiosity drags delicate fingers over the open vial and tips it over the rim of a glass, listening to the soft pour of your coming betrayal.
with a loving kiss to the head, you offer him the wretched tea, and he drinks it without thought â gripping his cup with trusting fingers â sealing your fate and his.
âitâs good.â he hums. comfortable. safe. unsuspecting. âthank you, my love.â
unable to stay and watch the next few minutes unfurl, you spare a soft smile and soundless nod before retreating into your shared bedroom, waiting on bated breath until you hear the abrupt thump of a body slumping onto the table, the shattering sound of a glass breaking as it falls to its death, the patter of laced brew pouring whatâs left ot itself from the surface of the table onto tiled floor.
itâs ironic that your next step is merely to wait but your impatience is what makes you cling to such drastic methods. pupils blown from aphroditeâs influence, heart shaking in fear as it anticipates the coming consequences of your doubt in him, you return to the table.
heâs out cold, a sight youâve never seen. although aphrodite assures you heâll feel nothing during his sleeping state, you still unknot the tie of his quiver with careful fingers. the texture is soft on the surface but stiff in structure. you clutch the enchanted fabric in trembling fingers.
you notice the bundle of snowy lashes that line the seam of his eyes.
like angel wings.
you always imagined theyâd be beautiful.
now you sit in front of him, diligent and dutiful, muttering useless apologies to the air he canât hear, cursing yourself for your weak will. but you wait, eyes wide and alert, prepared to peer. you swallow down the thrill of your curiosityâs coming satiation, the joy of knowing youâll know the sight of your lover in full. you remind yourself that youâre undeserving of deriving pleasure from this.
this is truth you choose to take with no remorse for the destruction of his established limits.
itâs only because i love him; itâs only because i donât want to die.
SATORU.
satoru wakes in a groggy stupor.
when his eyes slowly open, confusion befalls him. has he slept? the first thing he notices is how bright the light pouring in through the window is, how it makes his eyes ache.
the next thing he sees is youâŠstaring at him with wide eyes, freshly-blown pupils and parted lips. a thickened black fabric is held tightly in clenched fists. it takes him too long to realize itâs his quiver. the fear that stirs in his chest is immediate as he realizes your awe is from the sight of his eyes. he clasps them shut tight, but deep down he knows itâs for nought.
dreamily, you sigh his name. âs-satoru,â
âNO!â his hands reach out in front of him wildly, until he feels you, until he snatches his quiver from you with frantic, terrified breaths. âwhat have you done?!â
he doesnât mean to shout out at you, doesnât mean for his initial reaction to be rage and fear alone. he stands to his feet, panting wildly as his fingers fumble to retie the knot. fear eats him alive where he stands. agony in full force can take the strength from a godâs knees. he stumbles clumsily until his back hits the wall with force. his head hangs while cold thoughts blow into his mind with brute force, a blizzard of sorrow and sorry and spurn and spite.
you speak but you tremble. it seems your mistake dawns on you, lays thick on your brittle voice. nearly a whisper, but still holding all your achings for penance, your yearning for atonement. âsatoruâŠiâmâŠiâm sorry.â
heâs sure your regret must be sour the way your face scrunches; vinegary. bitter. hard to taste but impossible to avoid.
treason tastes the same.
satoruâs bleeding heart spirals. he laments in anguish, âwhy? you betray me? me? what have i done to make you want to be rid of me?â
you carve a hole out of his chest. you donât know it but youâll leave with it, likely die with it clutched in mad hands. so this is what it means to be truly abandoned, to be loved and willingly left.
none of it makes sense to him, how you've changed your mind and turned your back on your own vows to him. you said as long as he would stay by your side, you wouldn't peek. a dark thing lurches in his gut; heartache grips him and makes him feel sick. but love still wails and sings and bellows with jubilance at the sight of you. it overwhelms him. it plucks the bones out of his ribs, one by one.
"you said you loved me. you swore you wouldn't look." perplexed and disbelieving. "why...would you? do you not â"
do you not want to love me anymore? is that why you want me to leave?
unable to move, unwilling to even speak it, the dark thing rolls over in his body. he bites his lip to stop the way it shakes, but he feels warm liquid start to gather.
ârid of you? no, satoru. never.â
a desperate cry. âthen why?!â
âi justâŠi just wanted to know the truth about you. aphrodite saidâŠâ
his breath hitches when yukiâs honorific comes softly spilling from your lips. immediately, his lips flatten into a thin line. ares swells, a vengeful beast drawing life from the strength of its loathing.
âthe aphrodite was here?â his blank tone followed by your careful nod. âand she spoke to you?â
satoru watches as your body goes shy; you hold your own fingers and look at your feet in shame. when you start to speak, your voice is timid. âyesâŠsheâŠtold me about your past. that you plan toâŠto sacrifice me to the old gods. she saidâŠif i looked into your eyesâŠi would see it allâŠand know the truth.â
an abysmal sigh. robbed of the mundanity heâs grown accustomed to and normalcy he adores, all because of the aphrodite. aphrodite and likely the zeus, too.
satoru realizes he's been bested, that this is his punishment for experiencing joy without their consent. after he's so capable of taking everything away, what does he deserve aside nothing? they use his own eros against him. the lover he so desperately desires will grow to look upon him with disgust and seething hatred. just as he did to the apollo, just as he'd done to realms above and below.
alone. because he himself is love but he doesn't deserve it.
crestfallen, he croaks, âdid you find what you were looking for?â
ânoâŠâ you whisper it regretfully as you fall prey to weakness and sink into your chair, shrouded in defeat. âthere was nothing. it was for nothing. iâm such an idiot. i wasâŠi should have trusted you. iâm sorry.â
you donât know yuki. you couldnât have. iâm a fool, too. loving so freely. tying my hands in devotion. making you a target to them.
his heavy feet drag across the floor until he stands in front of you, a mountain made of his woes with isolation at its peak.
and satoru, poor satoru, drowning in dolor and resentment and love, falls to his knees and wails.
âsatoru, please. iâm sorry, love. i didnâtâŠi shouldnât have beenâŠâ tears sputter out of your eyes uselessly. âi was fooledâŠâ
the truth comes out, sniveling and whimpering. âwe wonât last much longer.â
he cries quietly, teeming and oozing morose notions. sunk to his knees, he lays his head on your lap, eyes safely guarded again. satoru surrenders to this new, crippling grief he finds. his limbs wobble from the weakness. even his arms shake with the weight of his sobs.
âwhat do you mean, my love? iâm right here. iâm fine. nothing happened when i saw your eyes.â he notes the wispiness in your voice, the almost dreamlike murmur when you mention the sight of his eyes. your dagger of betrayal shoves in deeper. âthey were beautiful. soâŠblue. like the sky. like the sea. like love as it wades.â
like love as it weeps?
your words, dazed and dulcet, are so far away as you speak them. your rakes through his hair, once soothing, now cease as you fall into silence. a moment passes. your loving sigh fills the air.
âlike angel wings,â you murmur.
satoruâs eyes squeeze shut, fat tears spilling from the sides. within him, both his eros grieve. they sing with remorse, apologetic for what theyâve done, for your misfortunate fate they didnât mean to seal.
ACT V. ALECTO THE UNENDING, ETERNITY'S TORTURE.
love is blind, but it sees all; love is forgiveness, love is resentment. it lingers in fragility and cradles its weaknesses, drenching them in immunity.
love is blind, but it sees all; love is languid, love is impetuous. it exists as an avalanche â slow and foreboding, and as a volcano â abrupt and erupting.
SATORU.
day one.
the morning after betrayal finally comes.
he spends the whole night in obsessive cycles of thought about how this will end, how he can stop it once it begins, how he can forgive you for the heartache youâll leave him to cradle, how to love you as heâs always done, how to find gratitude somewhere in the trauma, how to spend the last of his time with you in bliss.
you sleep the night away, calm, curled up to his body, because heâs angry but at least heâs home. time drags him through its thick currents of night and he ruminates on his losses while he wades.
when you wake, the first thing satoru does is smush your cheeks between his palms and carefully examine your eyes for any sign of distress, any evidence of deterioration.
âwhat are you doing?â you ask softly, careful not to show him your frustration. âi have to go to work.â
nothing. not a trace. maybe there wasnât enough time. maybe it trickles. maybe the sight of their eyes wonât touch you, after all.
satoru huffs defiantly, letting go of your face. âiâm coming with you.â
âdonât you always?â a soft giggle. your warm smile.
ardor surges throughout him, an ichor-warming excavation to remind him he knows you. he loves you. he doesnât have to fear you. quietly, satoru clings to the delusions of his hope that maybeâŠmaybe. butâŠhe doesnât dare speak them aloud.
the gods are always listening somehow.Â
day two.
no changes in your eyes.
no slight detuning of your laughter.
no crooked, misplaced smiles.
nothing.
you kiss him with the same tender lips; you hold his hand just as tightly. nothing changes as you both fall back into the comforts of your habitual movements. satoru keeps his sorrow in a crevice within himself and youâŠnow free of aphroditeâs wicked touch, he supposesâŠhave seemingly forgotten any of it ever occurred.
or perhaps, the feigning is how you hold your grief, too.
the one thing that does change is the extension of his infinity. he keeps it stretched to hold you at all times, especially as you walk around so freely. you talk to him as you always have on your way to your work and home. he notices you always meander around most in the daylight.
you love spending time in the sun.
he listens to the bright bumble of your words; his head tilts up towards the sky, stone-faced. getoâs sun has always had its eyes on you, hasnât it?
geto the helios, even you betray me? my oldest friend.
nothing changes in you, but his heart knows more grief than it can take. ardor closes its eyes in rest, unable to endure the daily exertion of mourning. but ares is fueled by its need for retribution.
day three.
when you leave for work that morning, nothing changes. he just canât be by your side.
you sometimes have tiresome, elongated meetings that carry on, weaving in and out of an entire day. as much as satoru loves to linger, the waiting while watching them relish in your attention instead of him maddens him. itâs best if he stays home where your scent douses everything and he knows for certain youâll return to him with all of your adoration just for him.
each day begins the same: you wake up, he cradles your cheeks, he observes your eyes for even the slightest hint of dilation, he kisses your forehead, he murmurs his devotions over you â much closer to wrapping someone in prayer, and finally allows you to fully rise.
you leave as you always do but satoru is admittedly uncertain of what to do with himself when matching your steps isnât the entirety of his day. so he lies in your bed, wrapped inside a chrysalis of saffron and silk, and shrouds himself in the blissful feeling of you yearning for him the moment you leave him. it mollifies ardor for a time.
but.
approximately one hour passes before you come stumbling back in through the front door, kicking your shoes off at the entrance while you call for him.
although confused, he still appears and greets you with an adoring smile. âreturning already, pretty thing?â
you nod, opening your arms to him. âmhm, i got there andâŠthe idea of going the entire morning and afternoon without you made me want to die...so i came back home.â
âhow dramatic. you just couldnât stand it, huh?â he murmurs, wrapping you in his arms, lips against your temple. âpretty thing needs her satoru. i donât blame you. i wouldnât want to leave me either.â
of course, he jests and expects your snippy response in reply but instead, he feels your yearning for him explode in his chest. he feels the way you push closer, clutch tighter; he hears the edge of a whine in your voice as you speak.
simpering, you cling to the fabric of his robes. âyes, all of that. i canât stand the thought of being without you.â
he doesnât let you go but he stills and whispers, âmy love, look at me.â
the request comes soft and you do look as youâre told, abstracted eyes and a foolish smile. satoruâs palms cup your cheeks for the second time that day. he stares intently, observing the shape, noting a new wobble in the roundness, something slightly misshapen and enlarging.
satoru whimpers at the sight.
worry fills him as he stares and stares, praying for his discovery to come out false, just a mirage made of his anxiety. he canât let you go when he still wants you for longer.
for the second time, satoru hears you ask him, âare you leaving me?â
and he still says no, but he omits the dreadful thing to protect you from fear.
 youâre leaving me.
day six.
satoru feels sickened by himself for enjoying your clinginess.
his heart canât help it, to chase even falsified bliss. to be filled with the aching of knowing youâre gone but still warm-blooded and yearning in his arms â how unfair. how cruel. he has no choice but to hold you in the arms of questions that feel more like pleas.
why canât i have you? why canât i keep you? youâre mine but why canât you be mine? why canât you stay? just a little longer.
the lunacy spreads in the dead of night; you wake up stranger than the days passed. he knows it wonât last but he relishes in it despite it. you havenât left in days. a bed is a home you donât abandon. you leave behind your responsibilities and he leaves the remnants of his hope. you take a seat on his lap and the only thing you move is your hips.
driven to an obsessive need for pleasure. hot with it, a sheen of sweat as you dig your nails in deeper. shaking in the night and longing for him; his body, his length, his murmurs in your ear, his warm tears falling on your back.
he closes his eyes, lets the pleasure he feels shamelessly consume him. youâre on your way to a steep decline. heâll steal these intimate moments for himself. as many as he can.
little somethings to remember you by.
something to remind him, for a time, your mouth tasted like everything love should be.
just in case when the time comes and the sight of your lips curving into disgust starts to make him forget. just in case he canât remember what itâs like to be loved by you.
ACT VI. A SMALL CACOPHONY OF WRATH, TISIPHONEâS ORCHESTRA.
love is blind, but it sees all; love is acceptance, love is denial. it is all screeches of dissonance and a looming madness contained in a warm embrace.
love is blind, but it sees all; love is gluttonous, love is self-serving. it doesnât savor, only swallows; it never nibbles, it always devours.
SATORU.
day thirteen.
satoru wonât say it aloud, but heâs scared. of so many things. mourning and loving and being alone. his broken heart and the wrath itâll undoubtedly unleash.
ares says everythingâs days are numbered if yours are.
every hope he has that he may not lose you, in the end, is squandered by the rapid shift in your behavior over the last weeks. he sees it clearly, the pupils in your eyes growing larger by the day. filling your eyes, filling your mind with delusions, filling your speech with nonsensical strings.
it was a soft cling at first, tender fingertips holding lightly to the flesh, but itâs slowly becoming your nails digging into an open wound you made.
you wonât let him leave your side anymore.
your eyes are wild, blazing with disdain as you grip his arm. âwhere are you going? are you leaving me?â
âmy love, please,â satoru murmurs, trying to subdue your suspicions of his attempt to leave. âiâm not leaving you. iâm not.â
always frantic. always afraid. satoru knows you canât help it, knows you donât mean to, knows he canât stop your spirals once youâre triggered. hands up in surrender, he sits right back down in your bed and looks at you with wounded eyes you can't see, another wrench in his gut youâll never know of. you settle into his lap, less loving and more possessive.
âi wasnât leaving. iâd never leave you.â satoru coos, his weakening attempts to make you docile, still true to his tongue. âi love you. youâre my pretty thing. iâll never go anywhere.â
your head shakes, tears pouring and lips sputtering words in a frenzy. âyou canât just get up and try to go somewhere without telling me! i donât know whatâs happening! i donât know whatâs happening and you canât leave me! you canât leave my side or iâll die! if you walk away, youâll leave me here to die and why would you leave me? you said you love me. donât you love me, satoru?â
âof course i do. i love you so much.â
satoru listens to your whirlwind of teary rambles, watches your sanity dissolve. he holds you in love while you sob in confusion and the overstimulation of sensation makes you shiver.
he glances over the scars littering different parts of your body, mauling yourself to be free of all the feeling that fills you at all times.
all the feelings that say youâll die if youâre not by his side. youâll die if he doesnât love you back. youâll die if he leaves you. they all burst to life and leave you a wailing mess in his arms. imprisoned by every sliver of love and unable to escape its chaotic swarms. a war in your lungs. a war in your belly. a war on your flesh. all you do is scream.
he doesnât know how much longer until they tell you that youâll die if you canât get away from him. youâll die if you donât kill him first.Â
day twenty-one.
a blood-curdling scream. the incessant rattle of metal chains.
âEVIL ASSHOLE! I KNEW YOUâD TRY TO KILL ME! I KNEW YOU NEVER LOVED ME! IâLL KILL YOU! IâLL KILL YOU! I HOPE YOU DIE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT I HATE YOU!â
since day sixteen, the god has lost all semblance of peace.
âSATORU!â shrieking and sobbing his name descending to loving pleas. âplease, satoru. i love you. i wonât hurt you. satoru! SATORU! STOP IGNORING ME! SATORU, ANSWER ME. ANSWER ME. TELL ME YOU LOVE ME, SATORU! PLEASE!â
ares and the strength of its rage is the only thing keeping satoruâs body standing. as time passes, ardor accepts the coming days will be your last. whenever satoru has the strength to make a decision that leaves him fractured in every way.
his heart breaks. all of him weeps until whatâs left of love is defeat.
youâre no longer yourself. a stranger takes space in your body and all it does is scream. in satoruâs mind, youâve already died. youâve already left him. what heâs holding is the sight of a person he wants to see, wants to be able to remember and remind himself of in the luxury of passing glances.
he thinks he didnât love those things enough.
youâre a screeching mess he keeps his infinity perpetually stretched around, whose arms he keeps chained to a wall to stop you from hurting yourself, to stop you from hurting him. he hasnât seen you smile for some time. all you do is wail and cry and make yourself bleed. a monster made of your own temptation. he still loves you, still adores you in every way. even like this.
for all of time, he will.
love is blind but it sees all; love is eternal, love is unconditional. it is the only thing that owes nothing to space or time.
but he knows this is only torture for you.
satoru has three options:
one. let you kill yourself in a fit of murderous delirium â both in an effort to escape him and an inability to kill him.
two. let you die trying uselessly to kill him.
three. kill you himself â quickly. devoutly. with honor and in love. pour enough of how much he adores you over your bones to fill an eternity, someone worthy of ceremony.
 youâre still someone who laughs and fills a room with delight.
tears stream freely underneath his quiver when he enters the room heâs now holding you prisoner in, a sad fact that makes him hate not only himself but all of them even more. when he enters, you go wild, writhing and pulling at the restraints he keeps you attached to.
âLOOK AT ME, YOU ASSHOLE. LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID TO ME! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! DIE! I HOPE YOU DIE! YOU DISGUST ME! I SHOULD HAVE NEVER TRUSTED YOU!â
unable to take it anymore, unable to hear you in pain like this, hysteric and senseless, unable to endure the loss of his only home and the betrayal from all sides, he unties the knot of his quiver. he lets it fall to the ground the same way he falls to his knees, and stares at you.
because love is standing but love is kneeling, too.
he hears you go silent as you stare at him in his full glory, watches your body go calm as you see crystals stream down his cheeks, surely shimmering as they fall. your screaming finally ceases, replaced by awe swimming around your crying eyes.
your soft smile; it must be your parting gift to him.
âlike angel wings,â adoration on your dying breath. âsatoru,â
all thatâs left is your sigh faded into demise, satoruâs amethyst tears, and both ardor and ares filling his vision with a loving lilac. so lovely, so alluring and sweet, so undoubtedly yours, you donât even feel the crack of your neck in his hands.
painless. you fade with pleasure in your sights, with a moment of remembrance. you fade not knowing youâve dissipated into nothing, not knowing youâre cradled lovingly in his arms, not knowing how he cries for you, not knowing how he hurts, not knowing the depths of his adoration for you.
only satoru has to live with the sacrifices of knowing.
but he loves you, so he will live with the sacrifices while the realms live with the consequences of crossing him. any cost of loving you, heâll gladly pay. over and over, until death manages to capture him and take him to meet the hades himself.
when he finally has the strength to leave your side, ardor goes cold within him, paralyzed by grief. one eye blinks in darkness. nothing shown. nothing felt. nothing seen.
but ares is alive with the light of a promise. ardor rests and ares makes satoru keep its word. thus, he finds a way to adore devastation. only when itâs dedicated to you.
he burns the quiver to dust, his first declaration of war on all, both above and below.
Reblog the fundraisers you mfs!!!!! I don't know why you all skip those to reblog some pic of a banner saying "FREE PALESTINE" or of news from Columbia University! Literally these people from Gaza have made an account on Tumblr and is writing in english to communicate what they need and you all are coming onto my blog or on the tag and not reblogging their posts. We have people both Palestinian and non Palestinian vetting the fundraisers! I mean more the reblogs, more the chance of the fundraisers gaining momemtum, the more there would be a chance of a donation. Please donate if you can and reblog!!! and follow them if it is possible.
@/mohammedayesh has posted about getting leaflets, telling them to evacuate Rafah. They are very low on funds. Go follow them and reblog their posts and donate if possible.
âHi my name is Abed im making this account on behalf of my friend Muhammad Saeed Ayes⊠Mohammed Ayesh needs your support for Support My Jour
We have @/haneenatya too whose mother is suffering from eye stroke and need to evacuate. Please I have been following them for some days and it doesn't seem their own posts are getting much attention.
I am reaching out for your support to help my family get out of Gaza.
Ever since October, the⊠Suheir Hojok needs your support for Help my
Follow them! They are on tumblr. Reblog their posts and donate. The protests in universities are being done on account of them. They should be our focus.
(EDIT: on re-reading my post it seems as if I am dismissing all that the students of universities are doing. I am not. I just meant, since all of it is to help Palestinians, we must not ignore them when they ask for help).
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he hadnât even known such an office existed until he and nobara convinced megumi to let them fly on nue and ended up with their faces smooching a glass window (which was now broken) and theyâd been called into gojoâs office for a punishment.
it was extravagant, consisting of a dark oak desk, a floor to ceiling window, marble floors and whatnot. but mostly empty, no traces to suggest that anybody occupied it. it was devoid of any warmth and gojoâs personalityâexcept for a frame on the desk that caught yujiâs eye.
âhey sensei, isnât that your girlfriend?!â
gojoâs eyes flit to the photograph before he sighs, âsheâs not my girlfriend anymore.â
âwhat?!â nobara screeches, âshe was the best you could find! i mean good for her, sheâs learnt her standards but now youâre definitely gonna die alone, sensei.â
even megumiâs lips were twisted into a frown.
yuji stutters, backtracking before they get kicked out of school, âwha-what she means to ask is whyâd you break up? you guys were perfect for each other.â he pauses, âi think.â
heâd only seen her a few times around campus but she seemed like the sweetest person on earth, based on their few interactions. nobara definitely seemed to approve of her.
gojo props his legs up on the table, shrugging with his hands behind his head, âmultiple reasons. first one, sheâs out to torture me.â
âi am not.â the trio whips around to see you standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a flat expression. you lift up a bag, âyou forgot your lunch. again. itâs been three times this week and itâs only wednesday.â
âas i was saying, she maimed my crotch permanently and lost any hope of mini me running aroundââ
âit was night and i got jumpscared by your radioactive blue eyes.â
âand then, she launched war on me and didnât let me cuddle her.â
âbecause you came home bleeding with an injury that would worsen if i suffocated you.â
âand the worst of all,â gojo narrows his eyes at you, âshe ate my kikifuku.â
âyouâre a billionaire. just buy some more.â you shrug, placing the cover on his desk.
confusion lingers in the bemused side eyes of the students after theâŠinteresting conversation.
âsure, they all sound heinous crimesâŠâ yuji continues hesitantly, âbut is it really worth breaking up over?â
âwho said anything about breaking up? i just said that she wasnât my girlfriend anymore.â
ânow iâm even more convinced you were dropped on your head as a baby.â nobara blurts out but megumiâs eyes are already travelling to the ring on your finger, which gojo holds up to show off.
âsheâs not my girlfriend anymore because sheâs my wife!â he beams.
you roll your eyes but a fond smile blooms on your lips and gojo kisses your hand softly, âkids, say hi to mrs gojo. now i call dibs on yuji being the flower boy, megumi the ring bearer and nobaraââ
âhold up. maybe we should think this throughââ
âno wasting time. i need ijichi to sign the official babysitter documents for our future baby.â