#(( even in death you will never be rid of him ))

[prlssprfctn]

The Batfam: What's wrong with you? Why are you being so obedient? What's wrong with being the usual you?

Jason, remembering all the times, it was said that his impulsiveness and stubbornness brought him to the death & to family to just shatter: Where do you think I learned that shit from?

I can imagine so easily just how much Jason tries to be... nothing, really. No protests, no heavy sighs, no arguments. Until the Batfamily (they are not sure how to do this right; they never are) start intentionally trying to rile him up, to get something back, something that would indicate that their Jason is here. And Jason bottles up until he doesn't blow up in the Batcave, starting to critise every each of them for the things they had done (intentionally) to piss him off.

And he thinks: Oh, they want to get rid of me so badly, that's why they act like this. They are just waiting for something to happen to me to mess these things up, aren't they?

And he is so hurt and mortified as he leaves that he doesn't notice them sighing out in relief and even smiling a little bit. Because that's how Jason is supposed to be — loud, unapologetically honest, always calling out their bullshit, even if in the past no one listened, really. That's their Jason, their fighter.

Jason from the other side is quite sure he messed up everything. He strolls around the city for the rest of the day until it is time to patrol, expecting it to be just awful, full of snark remarks, and usual bickering, expect everyone is so... delighted.

He is confused. Flabbergasted.

And it is one thing for his siblings to be like this, but Bruce too?

Does that mean they are not disappointed? Does that mean they don't want to send him away? Does that mean—

...Jason doesn't really know what it means. But at least they had made a step forward, right?

There is a specific thing that I love the most in Jason Todd centric fics — the slow build-up of the trust between him and his family members once things start fixing.

Not an instant "We talked once and hugged him, all good now", but the "Yeah, we just spoke, and things seem clearer, but I am still guarded and distrusting, so nothing special happens", because, honestly, with the amount of trauma it won't work otherwise.

Give me more Jason, who is not used to hugs and touches — who flinches if his family initiates it or just freezes awkwardly, not really responding back. Give me more Jason, who still carefully picks out what to say to his family — he bothers to filter his thoughts now, since they have a truce, but he still doesn't trust them with everything; especially his feelings. The Batfam, who is happy at changes at first, until they realise that they are not moving anywhere forward, they are just stuck on neutral point — they still don't know much about Jason, and he still feels tense around them. Jason, who is too afraid to move their relationship anywhere further, because he can't risk ruining a fragile peace now. So, he overthinks his actions and what to say (would Bruce be mad if he knew that I got involved with helping juvenile kids, does he still think that I am a bad influence? Will Dick get sad if he finds out I am hanging out with Roy and Kory again? Will Tim and Damian—) and chooses to stay silent. Too quiet. Almost shy.

It is an unfamiliar sight for the others, but Bruce stares at him, seeing the freshly adopted Jason again, too cautious and scared, afraid of being thrown back on the streets.

And he thinks it was easier to deal with it when he wasn't the one to cause these intrusive thoughts.

[iamnmbr3]

the gap between sectemsempra scene and astronomy tower scene is so fucking jarring. Like harry sees him crying and is shocked by it then draco literally CONFESSES to everything harry was sure of (he was obsessed with him over that and was dying to know about his mission and to basically catch him at it)...then he slices him open and feels bad. Then NOTHING right to worrying him because he couldn't kill dumbledore? Neither talking to him nor stalking him. But dating ginny (it wasn't that he stopped for ginny he stopped it before ginny)

Absolutely nonsense..

I KNOW! I will never stop being absolutely INSANE about that section of the book. Harry walks in on Draco saying some incredibly incriminating and concerning things. And then Draco attacks Harry and tries to use an extremely dark and extremely illegal spell on him; remember, just using an Unforgivable on someone once is enough to land you in Azkaban for life. And by the way, this is a spell that most people who aren't dark wizards wouldn't even be capable of using properly. Also, Harry was already sure that Draco was a Death Eater and had to endure months of everyone else dismissing him and rolling their eyes at him.

And what is Harry's reaction? Does he feel vindicated and double down on his efforts to figure out what Draco's up to and stop him? Does he spend weeks gloating to his friends that he was right and then insist that they help him stalk Draco too? Does he report to magical law enforcement that Draco, the son of a disgraced Death Eater who is in jail, attempted to use a highly illegal spell on him and also is probably in league with Voldemort, thereby probably getting Draco expelled at the very least and quite possibly jailed (especially given that the Ministry is desperate to find people to round up so they can show the public they're doing something)?

Nope! These would all be expected and normal reactions to what went down. But instead, Harry is consumed with guilt and horror over the fact that he accidentally hurt Draco during a possibly life-threatening duel precipitated by Draco, who Harry is sure is a DEATH EATER, realizing that Harry heard him saying incriminating things. (I mean, really, I think Draco was just upset and also humiliated that Harry saw him in such a vulnerable position and lashed out without thinking, but the most logical assumption would be that he was trying to get rid of a witness - though I don't think that was the case and I think Harry actually knows that due to his deep understanding of Draco).

And furthermore, despite the fact that Draco likely poses a threat to everyone in school, Harry completely backs off. After seeing Draco in such a desperate and vulnerable position, after seeing how frightened and miserable he is, after seeing how investigating him led to him getting hurt, Harry totally backs off.

His only feelings are remorse for what he did. He seemingly does not tell a teacher or any other authority figure that Draco tried to use an illegal curse on him or even that Draco started the fight, even though that would have gotten him out of trouble. He feels so guilty that he seems to uncharacteristically feel that he deserves Snape's detentions over the incident, even though he feels nothing but hatred for Snape and usually perceives any punishment Snape gives him as unfair.

And it is in this context that he pursues a relationship with Ginny. While trying to forget about Draco. That is what he fills the hole in his life with. Just...wow.

And listen. I'd love to wax poetic about how masterfully this is done. How the jarring nature of Harry's switch from being obsessed with Draco to distracting himself completely through a socially acceptable relationship with Ginny is a really sophisticated way to represent his conflicted feelings about Draco and how he's trying to suppress his feelings of attraction for him, to the point of even lying to himself. But I can't. Because while that is what we see in the text, I know JKR did it entirely by mistake and, given the quality of the romances she writes on purpose, wouldn't have been capable of doing it intentionally even if she wanted to.

This is like giving a monkey a keyboard and having it immediately write a sequel to Hamlet that's somehow better than the original. Technically satistically possible, but highly unlikely and thus an absolutely mindblowing and insane development. I will never be over this.

[shovellyyy]

Geto defecting was not an act of love for Gojo.

I saw this take on TikTok where they said “Geto defected because he wanted to create a better world for Gojo”, and I thought that I’d explain why that’s not the case.

If it were simply put, Geto suffered trauma at the hands of a broken system, thus took dramatic efforts to change the system. This was not in anybody’s benefit but his and his family’s.

Geto was titled as the Worst Curse User in all of history because he had brutally murdered hundreds, if not thousands, of people in his decade post-defection. This is the same Geto who told Gojo that he could do not only this, but cause destruction to the entire world at large if he truly wanted to.

It’s not that Geto didn’t love Gojo, because I do truly believe they’re soulmates (tho I don’t argue that as canon), it’s that Gojo wasn’t willing to give up his morals for “retribution”.

Geto wanted to rid the world of “monkeys” which are regular humans that are the reason cursed even exist. If there’s no curses in the world, there is no motivation for Gojo to be anything. Gojo has always believed himself to be a tool for war (I have another post on this), he has always believed that he’d one day die a lonely death. He’s never seen it within reach for him to live a normal life with a picket fence and a family. From the moment Gojo was born and separated from his parents for training, this sentiment was likely echoed to him.

What Geto was trying to do would not benefit Gojo in any way. Ridding the world of non-sorcerers and curses would ultimately leave Gojo average: powerless. Gojo thought of himself as nothing than his power, as someone who could uplift and encourage young sorcerers so they could be the ones to live a happy life instead of him.

Geto’s selfish feelings clouded his judgement, thus he never really thought of it from Gojo’s perspective. Geto had the wrong idea.

This isn’t a dig on Geto post either, but just stating my interpretation of JJK through how I’ve analyzed Gojo’s character and his relationships with others. I believe it’s wrong to think that Geto was doing all of this for Gojo.

He loved him, shown by how he wished Gojo would at least curse him in the end. Because no matter how much he messed up, no matter how horrible and murderous he became, Gojo still loved him. Gojo still gave him grace, and held onto him.

They’re doomed gay dudes. Star crossed lovers, doomed from the start.

I want to reiterate that I’m not just dissing on Geto. I believe it’s wrong though to believe he was fueled by his love for Gojo.

Anywayssss let me know your thoughts if you have any!! 🫶🏻

[cantfightmoonlight]

"It was a political decision I had to make because you broke the accords and killed someone and, yes, if I had walked out of the room and left Aaliyah to vote, I would have stood by her decision and the decision likely would have held, because as we already discussed, I was the one who asked for your verdict to be reconsidered. Not Nico, even if he had disagreed with it outside of those doors. You don't have to sever your personal feelings from politics. As you've said, you're not a politician. But, that is our fundamental difference and maybe you shouldn't be friends with them then."

"Understood. Rather than actually work to rectify the situation in a way that might benefit people more in the long term, I should publicly speak up on their behalf because it's nice to feel supported. Got it. You're under the threat of death just as much here as you are out there and, as I've stated a hundred times over, you're still a resident of this town. Town hall is still obligated to protect you. God forbid your fate winds up in the hands of Ben and the Coalition though as if they're such awful people to put your faith in," She slipped her hands into her pockets and gave him a small shrug.

"Say what you like, Rohan. I voted the way I did and you put every person in that room, all of your so called friends, in that position to when you took a life. You want to talk about an accident? You didn't just accidentally bring back the dead. You had to recite a complex dark magic spell, fully knowing what it could do. You took someone from this world and rid their family of all the time they could have had with them. Now, while I'm not one to judge given that every vampire has 'cheated' death in a way, that spell wasn't done unintentionally. Not fully and I didn't rob you of your magic. As far as I knew, the only consequence you'd face for the life you took and the law you broke at the time would be not being able to join some organizations you couldn't join anyway and having to leave the coven after you endangering them all. What the coven chose on top of that, I don't agree with. But, the fate we all decided in that room for you, pales in comparison to the fate you bestowed upon them. You have your life. They can't say the same and, you can be upset about it. You're entitled to that. But, we're entitled to be upset and disappointed in you for what you did as well."

"You say you should have been punished, but you complain about it and end friendships over it. Understood," She shrugged once more. "Maybe you shouldn't have bothered to search or visit then." She had never once implied that he should take it with a smile, but he could believe what he wanted at this point. She was done, regardless. "I never said you should have been more conscientious of my feelings then. I said that because of your reaction, which you are entitled to, I am feeling a certain way now. Present tense and I would like to work through it to preserve our friendship, if you'd be willing to have the conversation. But, you'd rather call it, so be it. Goodbye Rohan and good riddens," She flashed him a smile as she turned to walk away.

END.

Rohan shrugged. "Well, most people gossip, I guess. Maybe Todd doesn't actually, but from my few interactions with him, he tends to live only in the here and now. Maybe we should strive more toward that." He shook his head, but looking up to meet Meena's eyes, he narrowed his own.

"Uh...yes? If Aaliyah had voted to ban me in your absence, it would have held. That's all. But I mean, I avoided Nico in the beginning too. Don't think I didn't. Really. He and I just came to an understanding eventually, and I got a sense that he didn't agree with the choice. At the same time, you and I had had discussions in the past about the clan in the event I turned. Nico and I hadn't, and certainly JC and I hadn't, although yes, I suppose he would want most people in the pack." He knit his brow. "And look, there's a fundamental difference, Meena. You see all of this as a political decision you had to make. I'm not mad at people making political decisions. But I'm not able to sever personal feelings from politics, and hey, that's why I'm not the politician. At the end of the day, I see it as people I considered friends leaving me out on my own. For all the reasons they did. And not just you either. Certainly Poppy. Certainly the Fae, who did it all symbolically."

He pressed a hand to his aching forehead. "Even if the majority had ruled, yes, of course, it would have still been nice to know that people who disagreed had spoken up on my behalf. Would it have changed the decision? No. Would it would have made a difference to me? Yeah. And I don't know. You'd have to ask the pack. I'm not in it, nor have I ever been."

Rohan narrowed his eyes. "That room exiled me with the knowledge I can't leave this town under threat of death. I'll say whatever I want to say about it." He threw up his hands. "Come on. As if it's something that just happened on its own? On accident? Meena, you voted for it. And fine, you'd do it again. There. Good. Settled. This is the consequence of that. I was hurt in the crossfire, and I'm allowed to feel however I want to feel about that."

He sighed, raising an eyebrow. "When your turn as mayor is up, I'll vote for whoever I think is the best candidate. That's how it works, right? Again, being mayor is not something that just happened on its own, Meena. If you don't want to do it, stop doing it. Or don't." He raised his brow. "Of course I did! And I'm living with the consequences of it every day. I lost my powers. I have no protection in this town. I'm out here on my own, even now. I've never said I shouldn't have been punished, and I have been."

Rohan grit his teeth. "I needed space, Meena. I was raw and lost and vulnerable. I needed space. And months later? I still searched for you. I still came to visit you in recovery. I ran into you today and apologized and offered you a ride. But this isn't a legal technicality I didn't like. It's my life. Every aspect of my existence in this town. I don't have a 'stance on the matter.' My friends voted to exile me. Was it really a great shock that I may have been upset about that? I know I took a life. I live with that. I strive to make amends for that. I accept I deserve punishment for that. I've been punished for that. And if I deserve more, then I'll have to take it, but I'm not perfect enough to take it with a smile."

Rohan's expression darkened. "So have I. Multiple times. So has my husband. So have most of us. I don't think your feelings are ridiculous. I never said that. What I said was ridiculous is you saying to me I should have been more conscientious about your feelings when feeling mine about something you did. And I did apologize, Meena. I apologized for hurting you in response to me being hurt, and I got a big explanation of all the reasons why I shouldn't have felt hurt in the first place. So let's call it. I'm done. You have a great rest of your day."

[yanderes-galore]

may I request a yandere concept for James Sunderland in DBD?٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

Here's the mentally unstable and depressed blonde. But in DBD. I reread the previous stuff I did for him to try and help me write him how I did before.

I'M SO MAD THE SILENT HILL 2 REMAKE ISN'T FOR XBOX YET! 😭

Here's some prompts I did for him.

Here's some Tarot HCs I did for him.

Yandere! James Sunderland (DBD) Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Delusional behavior, Murder mentioned, Jealousy, Projections, Possessive behavior, Guilt, Depression, Mentions of suicidal thoughts, Attempted murder on Darling mentioned, Denial, Manipulation, James plays victim, Forced affection mentioned, Forced relationship.

Honestly, having him as a yandere in his original universe is already bad enough.

James comes from a pretty tough place in his life.

After the death of his wife, he went to Silent Hill for either answers or clarity...

Then all of a sudden he's here, in an entirely new hell where he has to face creatures and killers beyond comprehension.

I've said this in previous posts about him, but James is extremely delusional and mentally unstable.

This is a man who killed his wife while she was dying in the hospital.

He's a man plagued with depression and has thought of ending it quite a lot.

When it comes to his obsession, he most likely sees you like he did with Mary, his wife.

He's often tormented by how much you remind him of her (regardless of gender).

This makes James conflicted enough as is.

At first, James doesn't want to admit he's falling for you.

He doesn't believe he deserves to be loved or even feel love again.

He feels panicked when he feels his cheeks warm or his chest beat faster.

He tells himself you don't even mean to make him feel this way.

You're just helping him survive, you're a survivor.

The only reason you help him is to benefit yourself.

Yet he's over here getting all bothered because you're paying attention to him.

He's pathetic and he knows it.

Despite his denial, he still feels his feelings getting stronger.

He falls fast due to how unstable he is.

Deep down James wants to chase how you make him feel.

He wants you to drown him in your everything, to make him forget about Mary.

He craves your kisses, warmth, hold, all of it.

He wants that so bad, he doesn't care how wrong any of it is.

He wants you to help him cope, but none of it is healthy.

He doesn't deserve to feel possessive or jealous.

He doesn't deserve you.

Yet isn't it human nature to want something you can't have?

James is unpredictable, always too deep in his delusions and hallucinations.

Now's not the time for any of that... You need to survive.

Unfortunately... James can't ignore the envy he feels forever.

He's aware he's a horrible person, a monster probably just as bad as all the others here.

Yet he craves you like you're his sanctuary.

James gets irritable when he sees you with other survivors.

He sometimes even hates how Mary seems to haunt him in your features.

James can never seem to cope properly.

His poor obsession is often a victim of this.

James tends to cling to his obsession.

He's either always following you or trying to pull you into tight hugs.

He's a possessive man, always muttering and asking you to forgive him.

He knows he shouldn't be doing any of this, he should leave you alone.

Yet he continues his actions, often pleading for you to forgive him until someone pries him off.

James has frequent unstable thoughts.

He plots how to harm or get rid of other survivors, even if they'll just come back.

There's even some brief delusional thoughts he has about Mary, making him target you.

It's terrifying when he pins you to a tree, hands around your neck as he calls you 'Mary'.

You're scared to die, even if it doesn't matter in this place.

James has no morals, not anymore.

James is aware of his failing mental state.

In fact... He knows how to use it.

James knows he should be ashamed of playing victim... but...

It gets you to play attention to him.

If James opens up to you, something he usually hates doing, he can garner your pity.

If he tells you about his depression... his darker thoughts... you'll comfort him.

You won't pay attention to anyone else if he steals your attention, right?

He doesn't care if he's manipulating you.

Your eyes are on him... you're holding him... you're comforting him...

He hopes you'll let him kiss your lips too, he wants to taste you.

James is a pathetic man who can't figure out what he wants.

He wants you to tend and care for him, to make him forget about Mary.

At the same time he views your presence as torture, only able to see Mary in you.

James isn't sure how much he can take.

Maybe this really is hell.

Maybe you're meant to be his torment, a worse torment compared to all the monsters in this place.

James hates it at times... but you're all he ever wants.

He's addicted to you, no matter how violent it makes him.

The others know him as a liability.

But he needs you.

Every kiss and ounce of affection... He takes it.

Even if you didn't want to give it.

James is a pathetic and selfish man.

He used to deny that, but he knows it now.

James would do anything to keep you to himself.

Manipulation, murder, it doesn't matter in the end really...

James just needs you, dead or alive...

You're his only way to cope.

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Sweater

Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Summary: You find Dean's sweater after a long day.

Warnings: child death, description of injuries; bruises, melting children, main character death, angst, little fluff, more angst, no happy ending

Word Count: 1k

Notes: This is my first time writing for Supernatural so please excuse me if it's bad.

Request: Yes

You walked through your room, into the bathroom and undressed. You reached into the shower and adjusted the knobs, hoping the scalding water would burn everything away. Once the temperature was just right you stepped in, the force of the water gushing against your back like a waterfall. It started to melt away your day but it could never wash away the pain. You though back to what you had seen, what no one should ever see, children. Children engulfed in flames. You remembered looking into one child's eyes. You saw beautiful hazel, a perfect synchronicity of icy blue and emerald green eyes melt out of their sockets. You saw their skin start to redden, then bubble, then slide off their bodies. You watched them collapse into puddles before being taken over by the blaze completely. You watched the fire turn them into little blackened chunks and ash. You watched and didn't do a thing. You couldn't. Or at least that's what you told yourself.

You stood in the shower and ran your hands over your body, trying but failing, to get all the blood off. Most of it was the blood of demons. Some of it was yours, some your friends and some that of innocent children. You got a sponge, lathered with soap, and started to run it over your body. You scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, trying to get the blood stains out of your skin. You scrubbed further, scraping up skin cells, but you didn't stop. You kept scrubbing, harder and faster, trying to scrub your skin off, trying to get new skin that hadn't been soaked in children's blood. You tried to rid yourself of the impurity. You kept scrubbing harder and harder until you started to bleed.

Standing in the shower you could only fight back your tears for so long, finally letting go. A few drops rolled down your cheeks, so few that they blended with the water shooting at you. Then came more, more tears until they were pouring down your cheeks, it felt like they were threatening to fill the shower and drown you, something you would have welcomed. Tears so powerful you thought their tracks may stain you forever. It was all too much. You fell to your knees and let out an almost primal, animalistic, roar-like scream. You screamed until you though your lungs might burst. You just sat on your knees in the shower and held you self as you cried like a baby. Letting what you could out now, knowing that the moment you stepped out of your room, you'd have to bottle it all back up and pretend everything was fine.

You stepped out of the shower and stood in front of the mirror, looking at all of your injuries. You could see your eye already turning a dark purple surrounded by patches of yellow. Your hands were still stained red, it would probably never come off. Bruises and cuts littered your body, a few cuts were still weeping. You noticed the bruising around your ribs had gotten bigger, the whole area looked like it was pressed against you, trying to get out. You pressed a finger, lighter than a feather, to the area and immediately winced.

You entered your bedroom and that's when you saw it. His sweater. The sweater you gave him so many years ago. You tried to get him to throw it out so many times.

"Dean, it has four holes in it"

"Clothes are meant to have holes, babe"

"Arm holes! Not chest holes"

"But 's comfy"

"There's only half of it left"

"It's airy?"

You laughed "Airy? It'd blow away in a light breeze"

"Smartass"

You gasped when his hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you down. You landed on top of him and laughed. He held you tight and craned his neck up for a kiss.

"If you throw away the sweater"

"No way"

"You're being even more stubborn than usual, you know that?"

"Yes I do" He said with a swift shake of his head.

"Why do you want to keep it so bad?"

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"Dean"

"Promise?"

"Promise"

"You gave it to me"

"I did"

"Well 's the first thing you gave me" He muttered quietly.

"Baby" You purred in that low tone he loved "You are such a sap"

"Hey! Am not!"

"Are too"

You peppered little kisses down his neck making him shut up, for a second.

"Am not"

"Are" You spoke between kisses "Too"

"Am-"

He was cut off by your lips on his. You kissed him deeply, with so much love and affection that he feared he didn't deserve you. Soon your kisses became more passionate, his hands clawed their way up your back. Your hands flew up to cup his face in your palms. You pulled away breathlessly and started into his eyes.

"Are too"

"Maybe a little bit, for you" He smirked when saying the last two words all in a smug tone.

"I love you"

"I love you, with all my heart"

"You always have to one up me"

"And you always have to get the last word"

"No I don't"

"You just did it"

"I did not"

"Oh you so did"

"I-"

You were cut off by his lips before you could finish the word, Dean's plan exactly.

You stood over that same couch, holding that same sweater, but nothing was truly the same. You were there, the sweater was there but he wasn't.

You pulled it on over your head and snuggled into the soft, fraying wool. You curled up on the couch in a little ball and buried your face into it, smelling him. Tears streamed down your face yet again, soaking the sweater.

Tags:

@pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @dianawinchester03 @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno

[monvirtu]

Romantic headcanons for elquackity?

𝐌𝐈 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑

⋆ precis ~ headcanons on what it's like to date elquackity!

⋆ tags ~ romance, kissing, fluff, and mentions of death.

⋆ notes ~ thank you for requesting! i don't know much about the qsmp, so i looked into it a bit, so i do apologize if this is out of character for elquackity!

⋆       you and elquackity either met through the federation, or when he was pretending to be quackity.

⋆       at first, elquackity didn't know what to think of you. he'd probably hate you, but not because you actually did something.

⋆       it's because you made him feel something.

⋆       elquackity is not a person about feelings. he lacks sympathy and doesn't feel much except for enjoyment, but that joy usually came from other people's pain.

⋆       so, when he felt something other than that when you were around, he'd hate it. he hated all of it. he hated the warmth that sprawled through his body when you simply smiled at him. he hated the fluttering in his stomach when he heard you talk. he hated the stammer in his usual confident voice when you stood near him.

⋆       he hated you.

⋆       or at least that's what he told himself.

⋆       eventually, he would come to learn that what he was feeling was love. it was probably tubbo who ended up telling him that since elquackity views him like a father, and he didn't know who else to ask about it.

⋆       so, with the help of tubbo, he learns that the only way to try and get rid of this feeling was to either tell you that he liked you, or distance himself from you to see if that would help.

⋆       he would try the second option, but he then learned that it was impossible to stay away from you and get his goals done.

⋆       now, with the first option, he wouldn't know how to do it. of course, he's seen other people do it, but he doesn't know what to do. other's have done it in so many different ways and reacted differently each time, so what was he supposed to do?

⋆       with elquackity being elquackity, he would probably blurt it out and just stare at you afterwards. no smile or even raised eyebrows, he would just have a poker face.

"is everything alright, quackity?" hearing that name on your tongue felt like a sin with how it made quackity's skin crawl, and the man could only fidget with his fingerless gloves for a few seconds before his eyes met yours.

he hated looking into your eyes, for you always looked so innocent. like you were pure of any wrongdoings. you were the complete opposite of him.

maybe that's why he so-called "loved" you. or maybe it was the way you smiled, the way you dressed, the way you talked, the way you stared at him like he was the only person in the world—

maybe it was just you in general.

"no." quackity's response was short, and it only made you look at him with more curiosity. "did something happen?"

he let out a scoff at your question, and he crossed his arms as he stared right into your eyes.

it was kind of intimidating if you were being honest.

"i love you."

he didn't understand why your eyes widened like saucers, or why you looked so shocked. was love a bad thing?

"you love me?" you repeated quackity's words, and he could only raise an eyebrow in perplexity. "yes, that's what i said."

what was so hard to understand about that?

⋆       you would end up having to explain everything to elquackity, like what his words meant and dating.

⋆       the funny thing is that he just sat there the whole time and nodded like it was a lesson.

⋆       when you finished explaining everything, elquackity would probably ask you to date him in hopes that would help get rid of his feelings, and you said yes.

⋆       in reality, though, it did not. he truly thought tubbo lied to him for a bit because his feelings only got worse.

⋆       he found himself following you more often like a lost dog, and he didn't enjoy it whatsoever. people often made comments about how he followed you around, and he didn't like that either, yet he never stopped unless he had somewhere to go.

⋆       also, you would be told who he truly was.

⋆       you always had a feeling that quackity wasn't actually quackity, and you were only confirmed that when elquackity revealed that he was quackity's brother.

⋆       he was surprised when you told him that you didn't care, though. it didn't change anything for you.

⋆       he thought you would've hated him and left him, and then he would get over these feelings, but it never happened.

⋆       after that, he would slowly start learning more about relationships.

⋆       he would learn about terms of endearment, so he'd call you things like mi amor, cariño, or whatever you preferred. he's new to this, so he's not going to complain unless it's something he thinks is weird.

⋆       also, when he learns that you're supposed to give your lover flowers, he doesn't get the idea of it and just gets you a whole lot of flowers.

⋆       your house would be full of them.

⋆       but if you're allergic, he'd probably burn them all outside.

⋆       also, expect him to be at your house a lot. he practically lives there with you.

⋆       if you have an egg, you might wanna help elquackity get used to it. he doesn't like the eggs at all, but if you managed to convince him to at least like your egg, then him being at your house would be fine.

⋆       he's a sloppy kisser, by the way.

⋆       does not know how that works.

⋆       it's rare for him to kiss you on the lips since he's always in a rush, so he would prefer kisses on the cheek or forehead. with you, he'd probably kiss your neck or jaw.

⋆       but if you asked him for a kiss on the lips, he'd give you one if you aren't in public.

"mi amor, i'm leaving!"

quackity's voice rang out through the house, and he was met with the sound of someone rushing to the door as his answer.

you popped up from around the corner as you hastily wrapped your arms around him, and he could only let out a few mumbled words before hugging you back. "i'm not going to be gone for long..."

"i know." before quackity could reply, he felt your lips being pressed against his, and he froze.

after a couple seconds, he slowly started to kiss you back—tilting his head while one of his hands gently held the back of your head.

"i'll be home before dinner..."

the statement was mumbled into the kiss before he pulled back, and his forehead rested against yours as he stared at you.

it was hard to figure out what he was thinking, for his eyes never gave it away.

and with that, he let go of you—opening the door behind him before slipping out of the house.

⋆       usually, when he leaves, it means that he's going to take quackity's place. you don't know where the real quackity is when elquackity does it, and you never bothered to ask. you didn't want to upset elquackity.

⋆       but, when elquackity isn't taking quackity's place, he's hiding out at your place or the federation building.

⋆       during purgatory, when elquackity takes quackity's place for it, he is not letting you out of his sight.

⋆       he believes it's too risky, and doesn't want you getting hurt. or die.

⋆       he truly doesn't know how he'll react if you die.

⋆       at first, he hated these feelings. he hated you. he wanted it all to go away.

⋆       but now, he doesn't even think he can function if you went away.

©𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐔𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

writings are to not be reposted, translated, or plagiarized. if you wish to show your love for my work, feel free to reblog, comment, or like.

[siri-ike]

@megasweetbones I'm making this the prequel to the other fic

Warning ⚠️ suicidal thoughts from a child, ploting to murder a child, multiple deaths, semi successful suicide, S.A., victim blaming negative self-talk

(Also, let me know, do you want the warning, or is it too much of a spoiler?)

Pronunciation guide for the name Álaug

Ál sounds like owl, Au sounds like eui, soft G

The thorns dug into her palm, causing her to bleed, but she refused to loosen her grip. This is it. Álaug thought as gravity brought her closer and closer to her inevitable end. Well, actually, she thought, "Í víti finn ég loksins frið" but, she's about to die, she's allowed to be a litte edge lord right now. The closer she got the brighter she could see the glow of the Lazarus water from behind her. She kurled in on herself around the black rose as the pit swallowed her whole.

One week earlier

This is it. This is the day Athanasia will escape. She's planned it for months, and it's finally time.

"Your target is Gord Keener, a Canadian politician. He's sponsoring a girl's hockey league. You will each join one of the teams to get close and kill him once you get the opportunity."

Athanasia stood perfectly still, as Grandfather assigned her her first leading role for a mission since being declared an unsuccessful attempt. It would just be her and Danielle, no, Daniel. He had told her just a few nights ago. No way would Grandfather accept him like that, especially on top of all his other issues, so she had to bring him. Which is fine. She can hunt food for herself. What's one more? Plus, she's ha- he's had some combat training, too. That's gonna take some getting used to.

The problem started when Grandfather made her bring Álaug. Come on, she had only been there for 2 months. She's not ready for a task. She barely speaks their language. But you know what? Athanasia is nothing if not resilient. She will overcome this obstacle. And not just because Daniel begged her not to kill her and push her body of a steep cliff.

Tryouts were easy, Daniel was great in cold environments, and Álaug was surprisingly a fantastic skater. They successfully infiltrated the 7, 8, and 9 year old teams.

Even with the added obstacle, this all felt too perfect. If Athanasia didn't know any better, she'd think Grandfather was purposely putting all his problems in one boat to get rid of them. The mission itself is so inconsequential. What could one polite snowman do to them?

"What about you, Jasmine?... Jasmine?"

Oh, right. Jasmine was the name she had given.

"What?"

"Which comic do you want? Alicia brought a bunch." One of the Olivias stated.

"I have Phantom Stranger, Tales from Atlantis, Boom-boom Kaboom, Return of the Gray Ghost, and The Time Keeper. Everything else is already taken."

These girls don't even know her. And from how Alicia had spoken about her books, they were clearly important.

Atha- Jasmine ended up reading 7 issues of the Time Keeper. A mysterious cloaked figure who punishes time travelers for messing with the timestream. What utter nonsense. The real Time-Wraiths would never be as welcoming and well spoken as this Time Keeper. And yet she can't stop reading. That is, until she gets to the 7th issue. In it, there's a side plot where three young girls are planning to assassinate a member of the time council. The oldest and youngest were sisters. The youngest looked exactly like Daniel but had short hair, and the third character was the most concerning. In the story, the girls told the Green Hornet that they were being blackmailed into doing the job, but in the end, it turned out the third girl had been sent as a spy.

Athanasia can in no way be considered gullible or naive. Even by assassin standards, she can sniff out a lie a mile away. But this, this is different. But the book she chose happened to be the one that warns of a traitor? That has to be an omen, or some kind of spirit trying to warn her.

At this point, Daniel is used to pretending to be one of the girls. But it felt different this time. One of his teammates had asked if she could call him Dani for short, and it felt so right. Righter than "Daniel" had felt. "Danny" was absolutely perfect.

There wasn't really any information gathering to do, so he was free to play sleepover games with the rest of his group. For once, he was included with the others. The adults didn't try to separate him or tell him he's too weak or that he was a waste of resources. He was just part of the group. Is this what life will be like outside the league? He couldn't wait to tell Athanasia all about it.

Two months ago Álaug was happily vacationing with her parents and two older brothers. And now she's expected to kill some guy? She had exepted that her parents were dead. She had had to. And even if Bölverkur and Böðólfur had survived in the first place, they definitely couldn't have survived two months alone in the Himalayan mountains. They can't even be left home alone for a week. Couldn't.

"Oley? Oley? Can you hear me?" One of the hockey girls was butchering her name.

"It's Á-laug," There wasn't any feeling in her voice. She used to hate it when people mispronounced her name. "It means curse or charmed lake."

That seemed to catch the girls off guard, and they left her alone for a while after that.

Until one of the adults walked over to her. Not the coach. This is one of the girls' moms.

"Hi, sweetheart." She placed a hand on Álaugs knee only to get slapped away. "Why are you mad at the other girls?"

Leading question, assigning her an emotion rather than asking her how she feels. The assassins taught her all about it. There's no point talking to her because she's already decided what's happening. Álaug stood up in silence and headed towards the door. The woman grabbed her hand. As she expected, there was no attempt to check herself. She would only assign blame. Álaug looked back at her. There was nothing in her eyes, no aggression or sadness, just hollowness. "What is your plan?" She leers. "Hoping that I'll scream and yell, so you can look like the big stong authority figure? Want me to blindly obey your orders so you can feel powerful? What me to cry, so you can comfort the new girl? You didn't even ask what happened. You just decided that I was in the wrong. Because someone told you a biased version of half a story." Álaug was fully aware how uncomfortable she made people, no one likes hearing such complicated accusations from a 9 year old, especially one who is clearly speaking a second language. And the calmness makes her all the more unsettling. But right now, she just couldn't pretend. The parent chaperone, or whatever she was, stood there in stunned silence long enough for Álaug to make her way out of the common area and into one of their bedrooms, where she locked herself in. From there, it was just a matter of climbing out the window. Hopefully, she'd get lucky and never see any of these people again, not the hockey team, the assassins, her cooperatives, anyone. Maybe she'd get lucky and disappear forever. Their room was on the 14th floor. She could disappear right now, and no one could stop her.

🎶🎵🎶

If only whoever was in the room to the left above them could stop singing for five minutes so she could think.

Climbing wasn't just something the league thought her. She was already good. She was on a lot of teams and sports clubs before Nanba Parbat. Not that any of that mattered now. Her friends probably think she died with her family. If only. There was a half-naked man singing and dancing alone in the room. He was way off tune. She climbed properly onto the balcony. Should she pick the lock or knock? Wait, no, why would she need to get in? She didn't care about this guy. The only thing he has going for him is that he hasn't pissed her off yet. She opted for knocking, which startled him in a rather animated manner. He opened the glass door to let her inside.

"Did Henry lock you out here?"

"Ég slapp frá forráðamönnum mínum." Easier to pretend not to know English.

"I don't understand." He paused as though thinking. "WOULD. YOU. LIKE. SOME. TEA?" Idiot.

She walked past him towards the door. But she stops. Putting aside the stupidity of trying to yell over the language barrier, why offer tea? Does he expect her to stay? She hurries, but the door is locked. Hotel doors aren't supposed to lock people in. There must be someth-

"Come now, he was probably just having a bit of fun."

She should have known. How could she be so stupid? Any trustworthy person would have been shocked to see an 8 year old girl in pajamas on their balcony. She didn't need to look back to know he was coming closer. For the first time in two months, she actually felt something. Why'd it have to be fear? She bolted for the nearest open door, which happened to lead to bedroom with a large fancy looking bed. She closed the door behind her, but there was nothing to block it. All she could do was hide. Whether she chose under the bed or in the closet, she'd be at a disadvantage either way. She darted under the bed. Down side: reduced speed, vulnerable position. Upside: he's too big to fit, and he can't reach her if she stays in the center.

"Putting up a fight, huh? I like that. Some of the other girls he hires make it too easy."

Tell him you weren't hired for anything and give away your location? Or assume the worst of a guy who apparently regularly hires girls young enough that she could be confused for one. Easy choice. She trained her eyes on his shoes as closed the door behind him.. Then his pants dropped to his ankles. Álaug reaches a hand into her pajama bottoms, for the knife straped to her thigh. Thank you, League of Assassins... ACTUALLY NO, they're the reason she's here. The league can all go lick this guy's sweaty butthole!

"Do you have braces?" He slowly made his way towards the bed. "The last one had braces. They leave scratches." It sounded like he wanted the answer to be yes.

The closet made a creaking noise, and he turned to it. He opened the closet door and grunted in disappointment. Álaug heard the scratching of hangers sliding around on a metal pole and clothes being shifted around. Interrupted suddenly by a thump, then a second, smaller pair of bare feet land on the floor behind him as he trips forward into the closet. Álaug uses the opportunity to run out from under the bed and slice his exposed ankles. He screamed and swore at the top of his lungs but only for a moment before Álaugs knife was taken from her and stabbed straight into the man's neck. The other girl. She stood there holding the knife in place and covered in blood. She was obscured in the darkness. The man jolted an arm, and Álaug took the chance to leap over to the other girl, grab the knife, and repeatedly stab him in the throat again. She felt a pain in her cheeks. She brought a hand to her face only to find that she couldn't stop smiling. Like this was her life's greatest accomplishment. The other girl took her hand and they left the room together.

In the light of the living area, she could properly make out the girls' features. She had medium brown skin and darker brown currly hair with a few broken butterflies clips in it. Her greenish brown eyes were full of tears and snot poured from her upturned nose. She examined Álaug too. Her eyes darted from her straight, dirty blonde hair to her narrow chin and down to her slightly oversized PJs held together with a headband around her waist.

"I'm Nadia. You?"

"Álaug, it's Owl like the animal Au like in bird and ends with a soft G."

"Oh, ok, um, Nadia is like, ah.-"

"It's fine. I can remember Nadia." Álaug pointed at Nadias loose jersey. "You on one of the teams?"

"Nah, Mama Crieo had me wear this to get into the hotel."

Álaug looked down at the logo on her own top. "Oh, you're an assassin, too?"

"Uhm, no." She looked at Álaug with a bit more scrutiny this time. "Who were you here to assassinate?"

"Gord Keener, a politician, I don't know what he did, can't be as bad as that guy." She gestured back to the unconscious man bleeding out behind them.

Nadia narrowed her eyes. She pointed to a suitcase on the floor. Álaug walked over to it, and Nadia followed, still refusing to let go of her hand. Álaug checked the bag tag from his flight. "Keener"

"Oh, well, that worked out nicely then."

"Nicely? Are you - " She sighed." Never mind, we should get out of here." She holds out her blood-stained jersey. "He probably didn't have spares in our sizes."

Nadia hated the plan. Staying in the suite with a dead body while Álaug climed down to get extra clothes was the absolute last thing she wanted to do, right after having to use their assailants grown man shoes to step in more creep blood to obscure their distinctly child sized bloody footprints. She finished shortly before Álaug got back, wearing two pairs of shorts and to jerseys, and two pairs of sneakers slung over her shoulders. They left the clothes near the body and snuck out using a keycard Nadia had found during her cover-up.

"Olie!"

They were almost to the front door when that same parent chaperone spotted them.

"Olie! Get back here!" She ran towards them. And they sprinted as fast as they could, but it was no use. "Olie, we were worried sick. How did you even get out?" She held tight onto Álaugs wrist.

"I thought your name was Álaug." Nadia remarked.

"So, did, I." Álaug snarked.

"This isn't funny. You're coming with me." She started walking back, dragging a resistant Álaug behind her.

Nadia watched on horrified, a million thoughts rushed in and out of her head, and she did something she never thought she would.

She bit the woman's hand.

It was shocking enough that they both could escape out the front door without being caught.

They stopped in an alley almost three blocks away to catch their breath.

"We need to find a thrift store, catwalk around wearing a recognizable team logo." Álaug suggested.

"Ok," Nadia pulled a battered looking leather wallet from he pants pocket. "20, 40, 60, 80, 90, 100, 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 26, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. We have one hundred and thirty-two dollars. Hope they have coats in our size, or at least thick hoodies." She picked out the ID and credit cards. "Mama Crieo says to never take the cards because they can be tracked." She slips them into a nearby drain cover.

"I can't believe I didn't think to take his money." Álaug looks fondly at Nadia. "That must be why people commit crimes with partners."

The elderly woman who owned the diner they'd hidden behind very helpfully gave them directions to the nearest second-hand store not owned by Debra, to whom she apparently refused to send business. The store she sent them to was perfect. The kids' section was huge, and they were even able to find somewhat matching overalls. Score. Álaugs were mossy green with leaves mushrooms and caterpillar embroidery, paired with a pale yellow bell-sleeved blouse, winter stockings, and black Mary Jane shoes. Nadias were a light pink to orange gradient with butterflies and peach blossom branches, paired with a white long sleeved t-shirt, pale pink winter stockings, and black boots. The hoodie selection was less interesting but they found a purple one with a dinosaur on it and a black one with some stars on the back.

At the counter Álaug quickly ran off and brought back one more item. A pack of butterfly hair clips that she presented to her friend with a smile. They were different from the ones Nadia had, or, the two that were still intact. Her old ones were semi transparent and had round wings. These new ones were glittery and had more square-ish wings. But they were perfect anyway. The price came out to 73CAD and 1 cent. The cashier was nice enough to ignore the one cent so they wouldn't have to carry a bunch of change with them.

Nadia counts their money again after they leave, 59CAD, more than enough for two lunch packs and train tickets. The plan was to go back to Mama Crieo since Henry probably wasn't going to give her a ride back now.

Train tickets for under 12 are 10CAD each, prepackaged sandwiches are 4CAD each, and since somehow water costs money in this country, two water bottles were almost 3CAD, leaving them with only 28.32CAD left.

"Back home water is free." Álaug sat cross-legged in her seat.

"Where is that?" Nadia opened her bottle with a little fizz, she picked the strawberry flavored sparkling water. She wanted a soda, but Álaug told her the salt in it would only make her thirsty again.

"Ísland." She reminisced. That's where her home is, where her grandparents are, her classmates, and where her, her parents, and brothers should all be. "We were on vacation, my mom and dad, Bölverkur and Böðólfur, my brothers." Álaug noticed the confusion on Nadias face. "They were twins, böl means to do something bad, and verk means work or action. Böð means, like, a message about danger or inviting evil, and ólfur comes from úlfur meaning wolf. So Bad do-er and Evil message wolf."

Nadia chucked a bit. And so did Álaug, for a short moment, but it quickly turned to tears.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, they're perfectly good names." Nadia tried.

Álaug wiped her eyes. "No, it's fine. Æi, They're probably dead, is all. But it's OK, it doesn't hurt as much as before." She sniffled.

Nadia looked down thinking of a way to change the subject. "What does your name mean?"

Inhaling, she tried to steady herself. "Álaug is a combination of álög meaning curse or enchantment, and laug meaning pool. So, a cursed lake. All Icelandic names have some kind of meaning. My dad once got me a book with all the parts of names explained. Like, æ, laug is a pretty common end for a girl name, then there's also Ey meaning island, Rún meaning seacret or friend, Dýs meaning fairy or goddes or some kind of magical woman. For boys' names, there's Ólfur and Úlfur, both mean wolf, Þór God of thunder and lightning, protector of the courts, and those who work the land, Vin meaning friend. There's a whole bunch of them. A lot of starts to, you could pick any of the common starts of a name and a common ending of a name and put them together.-"

That wasn't the end of Álaugs speech,she actually talked about Icelandic naming conversations for almost an hour, and Nadia did not try to stop her. She didn't even remind her to eat her sandwich.

There's way too much of this, so I'll reblog with the second half.

The other fic is Jasmine Al-Ghul

Translations

"Í víti finn ég loksins frið"-> "in the void, I will finally find peace."

"Ég slapp frá forráðamönnum mínum." -> "I escaped from my guardians."

(Ignore my rant in the tags)

If the Lazarus Pits are ectoplasm, what happens if someone throws blood blossoms in one?

[etlascivus]

@hhemeraa how will you be DEVOURED ?

       to be loved by the devil of carnal sin is to be trapped with him for all eternity . if asmodeus's obsession with sarah is any indication , myles has a long future ahead of him . the temporary nature of mortal years && mortal flesh will have no say in young man's end . whether it be by transforming him into a demon like himself or preserving delicate soul in the depths of his estate , asmodeus refuses to relinquish love again , especially now with teeth && claws sunk in .

       however life leaves myles , it will not be without a fight . the soul may vanish , but it can be found . the body remains . the body can be preserved . the beast will grieve && grieve , && with eyes red && cheeks stained by streaks of watery kohl , he will summon his ram head . the devil's three stomachs are each unique , && the ram's is the perfect space for that most precious to him . the ram opens its maw && swallows empty corpse whole , keeping it safe until lost soul is found && love returns once more .

[cygnusposts]

i think it's really funny when people try to assign batfam characters their own colors or whatever but refuse to use duplicates. could not be me. the inherent tragedy in using red for both jason and tim is something i will never get over

[ladybobofdoom]

Wow this is really uncanny. I‘ve went into this series with no expectations and I immediately shipped Li Rong and Su Ronghua from the go, not being much impressed for Pei Wenxuan; to an extend where I got the male chars confused right after the switch.

I was very sick while watching and read the subs a little dizzy. So, upon meeting them all in the past I got confused as to why she is unkind to her current lover at time of her death, when they all meet in the garden.

Here is what happend in my head: I assumed the narrative would focus on Su Ronghua and the protag finding back to eachother. I had to rewatch parts of EP2. I had to sit back and wrap my head around the fact that the main couple are the princess and her at that point as abusive portrait husband. Still, I made my peace with the main couple because the series is generally well written, with great female characters.

Also, like op sais, they string my boy Su Ronghua around like he is the secondary love interest with a genuine chance for whom I keep rooting. Dude got his balls cut off and his whole family killed and then dedicated his whole life to the protag. I mean how (on a narrative romantic hero level) could Pei Wenxuan even compete with such a compelling storry?? Having the impossible choice of rescuing his whole family or being with the women he loves and who loves him back? Chosing between power and love?? Li Rong (for me at that moment) wished with her last words to have a chance of spending her life with Su Ronghua; who obviously rememberes too.

I mean how can Pei Wenxuan even remotely compete with that, when his narrative is literally, gotta be nicer to me wife (which at EP9, where I‘m at, it‘s not really explained why he was’t nicer!!?). Plus, EP1 is even framed like he is the villain. There is never any indication of Su Ronghua and Li Rong having platonic love instead of romantic. Even if they don‘t clearify dude got his balls or whole cock‘n‘balls cut off. They still can have a meaningfull romantic and sexual relationship? Is it just implied because of his lack of genitals the relationship would be platonic?!? On an erotic level, giving them the chance to also have penetrative sex now, when they couldn’t before, holds such potential, too!

So, then I get to the wedding scene. When my boy is forced to hand the love of his life off to a man who in some form or another abused her in their last life. Baby gets shit faced to manage is how devastated he is. And I see this, and think. This is it. This is the single most cruel thing Pei Wenxuan could have done, even foreshadowing it with a ‚got a surpriiiise’. This has to be the tragic moment, where donno history repeats itself because this was a cruel thing to do on their wedding day; but he wanted to get rid of my boy for good that way. And protag MUST be so angry!! But then she is framed as happy and unbothered. And I think… wait a minute.

Which is when I wound this post. And I feel like what? (You may return to the beginning of the post. Just kidding. Nobody is reading this.)

I accidentally build a better narrative, what can I say? Not sure if I‘ll keep watching, honestly. They did my accidental head cannon baby dirty.

"But I have my reasons."

"So does every other sinner in the world."

It's been quite obvious from the drama for a while now that the Princess Royal screenwriter feels pity for Su Rongqing and considers him a tragic figure. I recall being asked early on if I thought the writers are trying to redeem him. And I said no, not exactly. And I still stand by that!

They didn't give him any out or excuse for his hand in the bloody end of their original timeline: the dirty secrets reveal scene does not soften his actions in any way or reduce Li Rong's disgust. Ronghua still rejects his grand-standing words and his refusal to see that the noble class can't continue like this. He gets his chance to tell his perception of past events but Pei Wenxuan also gets a chance to share competing observations. Li Rong and Su Rongqing still get their philosophical face-off in the throne room. No one is completely wrong or right. There were no heroes in the original timeline.

"Let's not deceive ourselves or others anymore. I understand your stubbornness. Your heart is with the light, yet you dwell in darkness. You refuse to acknowledge your identity, so you can only disort the truth."

We see Li Rong and his brother reach out a hand to him many times, telling him he can still turn back. Li Rong was never in love with him romantically but he accompanied her for years during a dark period for both of them; she's not a heartless person (that's the whole point!), so ofc she would take his hand and pull him back from the edge if he was just willing to grab it. She wants to reach him: that's what the whole throne room scene is about. But she cannot. His last moments in the drama have both Pei Wenxuan and Li Rong calling out to him.

He may be a poisonous snake, but he doesn't have to bite the frog when crossing the river.

He is given chances but he doesn't take him. That's why he's tragic: Because he is right about this ONE THING (Li Chuan isn't suited to be emperor), feeling desperately certain about it while it seems no one else understands the stakes and his heroic mission. But he's wrong about everything else.

This is a story about time travel and what if you could re-do your youth: better support a troubled sibling, stand up to toxic family, fix your marriage, widen your perspective... And Su Rongqing misses all his opportunities because he's not taking his chance to better connect with others, not using the wisdom of all those extra years to better understand the populace and the people around him, and handle his life & relationships with more grace. He just narrow-mindly focuses on the mission - he can't reset, can't let go of the past life and the current system.

So many other people in this tale have been shifted: Shangguan Ya, Su Ronghua, Li Chuan, Qin Zhen Zhen, even the fail emperor has a revelation about how crap he is.

His inflexibility and inability to seize the opportunity of a do-over in life and be a new Su Rongqing acts as a contrast to measure how much Li Rong and Pei Wenxuan have been growing & changing. And it shows us why they triumph and why they deserve their happy ending.

Tragic doesn't mean innocent. It doesn't mean he didn't have a hand in his own downfall.

I know not all readers found him compelling in the text, but I did think he was a neat character and tbh I think the novel would be diminished without him. I can see what the screenwriter was trying to do with him - all that dramatic music is his POV. We get glimpses of the good times & his good intentions that contrast with his failure to live up any of it. He's given narrative importance as their foil and the writers wanted him to be a full fledged 3rd time-traveler character that the audience is interested in (hoping, like Li Rong & his brother do, that he can be saved). The promise is there in the essential character, I can see it in the text. But in the drama they failed to create investment from the audience in the right way.

imo a big misstep is that the framing early on made viewers feel he was intended to be a valid love interest. In the drama, his romantic interest in her is overt while in the novel it was ambiguous for the first 60% of the story. Writers even added a couple moments that felt OOC where we are in his head and it seems like he is actually intending to win her back romantically (which is contradicted by his novel-compliant speech in ep 34 about how he knows they can't be together because as her betrayer he doesn't deserve it.)(now I'm curious to rewatch them, I am really wondering if it was intended to be a slight of hand where he is meaning her return/freedom/rise to power/the life he owes her and the audience is intended to misread as him saying he will become her bf again 🤔🤔) Regardless, in a romance narrative, this will make many viewers reflexively dislike him, protectively wanting him away from their otp. He is perceived as a real suitor who has a chance -- which hits different to a shipper.

The execution was flawed. I do think that casting a magnetic actor who can portray bottled up emotion & inner turmoil, such as Zhang Wanyi, would have made a big difference in mitigating the earlier mis-cues. But on the other hand, I'm fairly satisfied with his character handling from ep 30-40.

[handfulofmuses]

His reaction to finding Rahzar's corpse in the bottom of the ocean is interesting because that is not the reaction of someone who seems happy to see the guy he was constantly butting heads with death.

He flinches when he stumbles upon it and then just stares at it for a while and then snatches the body up so they can resurrect him.

It's just that he takes the time to stare at it. I might be looking into nuance where there is none, but the two of them were at it since the beginning. They were partners and rivals for so long and he finds him dead, flinches and just stares. It's like he cannot believe he is actually dead.

But this? This is even more unusual.

Xever, through all the seasons was never afraid of Bradford. Xever can handle whatever he throws at him and toss it right back. In serpent hunt he was ready to stab him too when he pushed him out of the way.

This was not like their usual bickering. Bradford is more aggressive than usual and flat out threatening him. Xever is extremely terrifed and actually fearing for his life here when Bradford tells him that he has devolped a taste for sushi - Bradford never threatened him directly like that.

When Xever was still in that tank, Bradford told him that he has his use when their master might get hungry for sushi but he reacted with anger just told Bradford to come into the water and say it. The only other time when he said he wanted to eat him was behind his back.

With how terrified Xever reacts, this was likely the first time Bradford threatened him like that.

I think that was also part of the reason why he left. He already mentions to Rahzar that a lot has changed and says later to the turtles that all of that is becoming too much, even for him. He absolutely did not like the direction they were headed to.

Shredder was not the same man he once knew and neither was Bradford. And we find out later they were just mindless puppets of that demon guy.

I'll be honest, I did not like the fifth season because it feels like after killing Splinter / Shredder / Rahzar they did not really know what to do afterwards and just decided to resurrect them again. I feel like it could have ended after the fourth season already, so Xever leaving and then not coming back for the rest of the season is so funny to me. This season was so weird that even Xever had enough of it. They have shown that he is not beyond torture and relishes the opportunity, but they start a cult, summon a demon and then bring people back from the death and he is just: "nope, that's too much even for me, bye."

I like when villains have some form of standards.

[arggghhhsstuff]

is very much a peter song. dare i say the most peter song ever? i won't go there but it's close.

"oh but it has sirius vibes" noooooo you don't get it. sirius doesn't care about what the wealthy are doing, he is the wealthy! he was born into it and he (in peter's eyes) threw it all away just because he could. peter aspires to that, to that level of carelessness. just look at the first verse:

"The TV's on, the woman's blonde / She talks and talks of how the rich are wrong / They cheat on wives, never pay the price / I'm a low-class guy, that sounds pretty nice" <- exactly peter. my little lower middle-class cynical opportunist mastermind!!

[prlssprfctn]

Every time another joke about Batman/Bruce Wayne passes by me, I can't help but imagine that the whole rumour about these two dating was originally (and probably accidentally) created by Bruce himself.

Just imagine, a teen Bruce, still only starting with his vigilante career, makes a crucial mistake - he pays with his own credit card in front of people, while being Batman. A stupid, absolutely instinctive mistake, but in his defence he wasn't sleeping normally for a week, and had an open wound in his stomach that day, so. Whoops.

And then someone asks Bruce Wayne about it, in front of a thousand cameras. And he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

Reporter: So, mister Wayne, recently citizens had reported that they saw Batman paying for the damage in the city... with your credit card. Care to explain details behind this?

Bruce, smiling stupidly: Oh, he is my ex. I sometimes sponsor him.

The crowd: (goes wild)

Alfred, starting at the interview back in the Batcave: ...We are never going to get rid of this, are we?

And guess what? They don't!

Bruce thinks that with time passing, with his love interests switching and new rumours spawning in the world, they might forget about it. He was young, he was stupid - he fucked up, alright?

But decades pass. He has a whole football team of kids. Everyone still ship Bruce and Batman.

And when this stupid video accidentally gets resurfaced on the internet again, his family goes insane. They start creating even more stupid rumours on galas.

Reporter: Mister Wayne... For years now, the crowds are speculating... Who is exactly your mother, and where is she now?

Damian, sighing pitifully: My father and my mother don't enjoy contacting each other, sadly. My mom says that their relationship was just a rebound; father desperately tries to forget Batman... Still, to this day.

Bruce, gripping the glass of champagne: ...

Talia, watching this interview with Ra's: Now, that's my son right there.

Dick: Oh, why I was screaming at Batman in the middle of the street a few days ago? Oh, this bastard- I mean, this respectable vigilante, he dared to get in the argument with Bruce. He can't really leave him alone, really! They are so insane about each other... So toxic, but so, uh, captivating... But you know, Bruce! He has such a fragile heart...

Gotham: Aw-w, poor mister Wayne!

Bruce, sighing: Jesus Christ.

Tim, shaking his head to the camera: I hate Red Robin, really. Did you know that his existence is just a direct offence to my father? Yeah, actually, Batman took this kid under his wing with another man - I am not going to tell who - to make dad jealous. This is disgusting!

Jason, who returned from the death by pretending that all this time he was under the child protection system after becoming an accidental witness of the second Robin's death: Oh, yeah, it was tough... Poor kid exploded in front of my eyes! Reporter: But, mister Todd-Wayne, what were you doing in that warehouse?

Jason, wiping fake tears: They were like my divorced parents, you know... Batman and Bruce. Batman really tried to mend things with dad back then, and wanted me to like him... We just wanted to spend some time together with him, and that Robin kid... God, it was terrible... Batman refuses to contact me now. I miss my second dad...

Bruce, back in the Batcave, watching as Batman's reputation goes lower and lower: ........................... Alfred: Well, master Bruce... Bruce: Not a word. Al. Please.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ! ❞

❝ I HEARD FROM A FRIEND OF A FRIEND, THAT DICK WAS A TEN OUT OF TEN !! ❞

✧ pairing: jjk au sorcerer! suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: geto's routine after a mission -- ingest the curses that he collects before his shower. but after he does, his body begins to burn and ache with lust to the point of pain -- and he can't get rid of the feeling alone. so what else can he do when you show up at his doorstep offering to help but accept it (aka a sex pollen / aphrodisiac curse fic).

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, jjk compliant au, geto stayed a sorcerer and didn't defect, reader is one year younger than geto, (set during jjk s1), aphrodisiac curse (sex pollen), multiple orgasms, multiple positions (missionary, doggy, riding, other positions mentioned: standing, against the wall, spooning from behind, against the wall), masturbation (m), soft dom! geto, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, cervix fucking, panty stealing, squirting, mutual pining, a little angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc), but a lot of comfort, cuddling, gojo hijinks

✧ wc: 8,180

Suguru was only sure of one thing, as he stared at himself in the mirror — cheeks flushed red, sweat nearly soaking through his black t-shirt, and a painful and glaring problem in his boxers—

This was a curse — literally. 

Curses were made up of different negative human emotions — from loneliness to grief to anger, these negative feelings would pool and create a curse. Sorcerers were made to exorcise these curses, and Suguru did so — but in a different way than the others. He had to consume them as part of his technique. And even with the hundreds of curses he’s swallowed over the years, he would never get used to the taste — a shit soaked rag used to clean up vomit was how he could best describe it, but even then, that didn’t come close to the indescribable act of swallowing the manifestation of the worst negative human emotions — at least for most of them. 

The one he had swallowed today was different — he was sent to exorcise a grade 1 curse in the heart of Tokyo that dwelled in an abandoned building — from the inside, he could tell that it was used as a strip club and possibly a bathhouse-turned-brothel, from the seedy mattresses left behind with dirty sheets and mussed covers, with rusting incense burners placed around the room, and the gaudy, fake jewelry that laid strewn about the place — assumedly any real jewelry picked clean. He swore he could have even smelt the ever lingering scent of cheap perfume in the walls and vents. 

But the greater concern was the curse he had found himself with — a grotesque creature that stared back at him — its body a deep maroon, many eyes dotting its back with a large pair of black lips that Suguru didn’t care to draw any closer to. It was more humanoid than most — its form showing a more sophistication than many curses did, muscles of its many arms contracted as it finally spotted Suguru, its many eyes settled their gaze on him. 

It was far too easy for him to take down the curse in hindsight — far too easy — and it seemed to watch him summon curses — and he swore it almost had seen a glimmer of recognition in its eyes and then it allowed him to deal the final blow. 

He had kept the curse on hand — he could swallow it later, when he was near a toilet and perhaps some mouthwash — though that barely did much to remove the taste from his mouth. He had returned to Jujutsu Tech to do his reports, and hopefully head back early — Satoru was out on another overseas mission and Shoko was busy tending to patients and bodies as always, but you— 

He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to text you. Not after what Satoru said. 

“When are you guys gonna fuck already?” the strongest sorcerer asked, making Suguru choke on his Sprite  — strong in ability, but not in tact, “you and her have been eye fucking for weeks and you had such a thing for her before she decided to move to Kyoto—” 

“That was years ago—” 

“She has a key to your apartment—“ 

“So do you!” he glares. 

“Then what about last night at the bar?” Satoru leans back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground, as he pulled his sunglasses down, “you could have murdered the guy that was hitting on her with your look alone — and I think you did when you stuck yourself to her side with your arm around her waist, until he ran with his tail between his legs,” 

If looks could kill, Suguru would have surely murdered his best friend — infinity be damned, “She looked uncomfortable, what was I going to do—” 

“Well, she certainly didn’t look uncomfortable with you hanging all over her, now did she?” He raises an eyebrow, as he leans forward again, the front legs of his chair landing with a thunk, “what are you gonna do if a guy comes along that she falls for? You’re telling me you’re not gonna regret it, Suguru?” Suguru says nothing, unable to meet Satoru’s gaze, as Satoru crushes his own can into a ball, before tossing at Suguru, “You guys just got to hurry up and fuck,” 

Suguru swats the crushed can away, “You’re disgusting,” 

He grins, as his words seemingly only confirm what he assumes, “Disgusting, but correct, and if I’m right, you’re taking some of my missions off my hands,” he grins. 

And Satoru’s words had been running around in Suguru’s head — just like any annoying song on the radio — but he couldn’t let Satoru’s words stop from hanging out with you. He had just gotten you back in his life again — he couldn’t lose you, not again. 

Geto: Are you free to watch a movie and have takeout? 

You: sounds good - did you get back from your mission alright? No injuries I need to yell at you about? 

He snorts, as he types his reply: no, not this time. 

You: Let’s keep it that way! :) 

He bites back his smile as the two of you decide to have you head over in an hour to his place — you preferred it that way since you were still settling into your place, boxes still unwittingly everywhere there should be actual furniture. Last time he came by to pick a report up, he found you eating your meal on a packed box, instead of a table. 

And he catches himself smiling, before his face sours at the thought of Satoru again. 

Satoru was right — and he hated to admit it, his knuckles pressed to his lips. A year under him, you had spent days with him, along with everyone else — you always waited for  him with his favorite snacks when he would return from a mission. You sat with him sometimes when he would get sick from swallowing curses, helping him swallow some water and saltines after he turned his stomach inside out. You were the one that pushed him when he hid his disillusionment from everyone else — even from Satoru. You wouldn’t leave him alone, you wouldn’t stop dogging his every step with snacks and comfort and company, hounding him to sleep, to eat, to say something, anything. 

Until he did — one late night you spent up together — he didn’t sleep much those days anyway.  And he told you everything — the poison seeping from his body, and leeching onto yours, your frown and hurt was the whole reason he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone to begin with. But the frown wasn’t yourself — it was for him, as your arms only curled around him, and he let you hold him the entire night. 

“You don’t always have to pretend to be strong, Suguru. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to grieve — but don’t bottle it up,” your fingers raked through his wet hair, undoing the tangles gently before running the comb through it, “don’t let it kill you from the inside out,” 

“I feel like I did die — along with Amanai,” and you pause, your arms curled around his shoulders, chin resting on his head before you pinched his cheek and he flinched. 

“There, you’re definitely not dead,” you say, “so don’t act like you are. And don’t act like you’re alone — because you’re not. You have me, you have Satoru and Shoko — even Nanami and—“ you voice cuts off at the thought of Haibara — “Haibara wouldn’t want you to hide from us, he looked up to you — more than anyone else, even Satoru,” 

“I don’t know why,” he mutters with a sigh. 

“I do,” your fingers guide his face to meet your gaze, your face an inch or two from his, “because you’re kind, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong,” 

He scoffs, “Satoru is the strongest,” 

“And you think Satoru thinks any differently of you? That any of us feel differently? You’re the only person who can understand him — and he’s the only one who understands you,” 

He gives a small chuckle, “not the only one,” and he tears his eyes away, hoping you don’t see the way his cheeks burned. 

And when he found those two sorcerer girls locked up — you were the one who called. The rage and anger had built into murderous intent, but he could hear your words ringing in his ears and before he knew it, he had called you to come to him. 

You saved them together — Nanako and Mimiko had fallen asleep in your respective laps after all was said and done on the ride back — without much bloodshed (not that the blood that was shed was worth much, in his opinion) — and with Gojo and you smoothing things over with the higher ups (mostly with veiled threats and petty remarks), you managed to allow the twins to grow up safe, under Geto’s care, and your own. 

At least for a time. After you graduated, Nanami left — and you were the only one of your class left — and the absence of your best friends weighed on you, even if you didn’t show it. 

“I’m leaving for Kyoto,” you told him one afternoon the two of you spent lazing around his dorm, you sat against the bottom of his bed, as he lounged on the mattress, his gaze snapping to you, only able to see the back of your head, “this place holds too many memories — i need perspective, I need space from all of this,” 

He wants to ask if you have to, ask you if he could convince you to stay, if he could do something, anything to make you stay — ask if he wasn’t enough to make you stay. But he doesn’t, because it’s the best decision for you. So he instead slips off the bed, sitting beside you, his hand ruffling your hair, “You’ll come to visit right?” 

He knows you’re blinking back tears, but he pretends not to notice, your lip quivering, and god, he knows he wants nothing more than to tilt your gaze toward him by your chin and brush his lips against yours, until every sad thought has evaporated under his touch. 

But he knows that would only be one more thought that would make things far more difficult — for the both of you. It was better this way. And it was. Years had passed, the two of you had become teachers at the Tokyo and Kyoto schools respectively — but as the years had passed, your relationship grew more distant, as it always seemed to with time and distance. 

But then you decided to come back to Tokyo, transferred over — Yaga explaining it was due to all the happenings in Tokyo with the special grades and emergence of Yuji as Sukuna’s vessel — and he found himself in your presence again. And it was as if no time had passed — your days off spent in his apartment — as yours had become a haven of unpacked boxes. And he couldn’t help but wonder — when he’d glance at you in the dark of his living room, the only illumination was the TV that played some shitty horror movie (your words not his) you had put on — if the special grades were the only reason you’d come back. Your fingers were so close to each other’s on the couch, but an inch felt like a ravine. 

One he couldn’t dare to cross. 

But It was fine, just as he told Satoru — you were just friends, until both of you decided otherwise. Not that it would ever happen — no, he thought that ship had sailed, even if his heart had stubbornly said that it hadn’t. 

Until he decided to consume the curse — and his heart was no longer the problem. 

Or at least, not his main problem. 

He sat in his bathroom, towel in the shower rack, ready to shower after he dealt with this. He had discarded his uniform jacket and pants — only in a black t-shirt and boxers. He stood by the toilet — as he learned his lesson the first few months swallowing curses — he never knows when one will turn his stomach inside out. 

He holds the balled curse in his palm — he could feel it squirm just underneath of his cursed energy — the thing keeping it contained at all, itching to be freed from his grasp — though it never would. He pressed the ball to his lips, bracing himself as he opened his mouth, nearly having to unhinge his jaw for how large this curse was and pressing it past his lips and into his mouth. His palms pressed against his mouth, as he swallowed, eyes squeezed shut. 

It…wasn’t as bad as he thought. He frowned, brow knit as he stared at his empty palm — it was still appalling to consume, but it was….sweet? But it burned as it went down, heat remaining in the pit of his stomach, even as it should have faded. 

That should have been his first clue. 

Either way, he turned on the shower before he shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped in. The water felt warmer than usual, as he washed his body first, letting his hair grow wet under the shower head. His fingers reached for the shower handle, turning it even colder, but his body barely reacted to the water — was it even cold? 

Even under the water, he felt like his body was burning — a slow fire that lingered under the surface of his skin, burning and aching, the frigid water barely doing enough to soothe it. Running his hands over his body seemingly helped, a shiver running down his spine as he washed himself, but he knew it would have felt even better if it was you. 

….what? He tried to shake that thought from his head — it wasn’t the first time he had thought of you like this. There were many times where his mind would drift to you at night, the warmth of your touch from a few hours ago still lingered, as his hard-on pleaded for his touch. Guilty gnawed at his conscious when he indulged, the first time being after a particularly vivid dream of you pinning him down while training — your mouth kissing down his body, eager fingers tugging at his shorts until that smirk met—

This wasn’t helping. 

The burning had traveled southward, as his blood did, and he glanced down at his raging hard-on. 

Fuck. 

No, he couldn’t. 

But his fingers were possessed, already reaching for his aching cock, large beads of pre-cum leaving his slit just as hand closed around it. He hisses when he does, a gasp ripped from his throat, as he braces himself against the shower wall with his other hand. 

He palms his erection, swallowing thickly, as he grunts, as he begins to pump his cock from base to tip, smearing his pre along his length. But his mind wanders to you, how pretty you’d look pressed against the wall of his shower, his hard cock dragging between your ass. Lovely moans parting your lips as his fingers would reach around to rub at your puffy clit. 

“Suguru, please—“ 

“Tell me what you want baby, gotta use your words,” he’d murmur, teasing your slick entrance with the tip of his cock. 

“Need your cock — need you to fuck me,” you would whine, words nearly enough to make him bust there and then. And he would sink into you just as he does his fist, but your sweet cunt would feel so much better than his hand does. 

Fucking wet and tight and just for him, as he works his dick deeper and deeper, until his tip is nudging your cervix. And he’d fuck you hard, just like he’s fucking his fist now, skin slapping each time his hips met your ass. 

You’d cum before he would, he would make sure of it — one hand rubbing harshly at your clit, the other toying with one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. And your walls would squeeze and wring him dry, just as he squeezed his own dick now. 

He spilled all over the wall of his shower, white spurts kept coming, as he grunted, imagining he was painting your walls instead. He panted, but as the afterglow ebbed away, the heat only came back tenfold. 

He panted, as his fingers left his cock, only to find it still hard — the tip red and angry, twitching as he stared back at it. 

What the fuck is going on? 

He finally left the shower, pulling on his shirt and boxers delicately — every inch of his body felt feverish and sensitive, even the rubbing of his clothes against his skin was almost too much for him. 

He stood in front of the sink, knuckles white against the porcelain as he tried to will his erection away, but each thought was only chased away with thoughts of you — of the dress you loved to wear riding up, of your legs spreading for him, of the wet patch on your panties— 

He was so fucked. Sweat dripped into the sink, as he glanced at himself in the mirror — skin a ruddy red flush, lips impossibly dry, pupils blown out with need — he was so fucked. 

He called Shoko — the embarrassment of this situation far gone at this point fading into plain need of wanting this situation to be over. One ring, two rings — finally five rings and she picks up. 

“It’s not like you to call—“ 

“I need your help,” he cuts her off, biting back the groan from his cock rubbing against his boxers the wrong way — “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” 

Her voice shifts from curiosity to concern, “Slow down, Suguru, tell me what’s going on,” and he tells her his symptoms — and she’s silent on the other line for a moment, “you have been a teenage boy before right? You’re not really calling me because you’re horny and you don’t know what to do—“ 

“It’s not that—“ he hisses, running a slow hand down his face, “I already tried…solving the problem myself but it didn’t work. And I feel weird — it only made it worse. I can’t stop sweating or thinking about—“ he cuts off — he couldn’t stop lewd thoughts of you from springing before his eyes, the thoughts of your moans, how soft your flesh would be under his fingers, how you’d look when he— “what is this, Shoko?” 

She pauses on the line for a moment, “When did it start?” 

“Right before my shower I think,” his mind foggy with need, he could barely even comprehend a coherent thought. 

“And what did you do before your shower? Anything different?” he’s swallowing the lump in his throat, as he resists the urge to brush his hand over his hard-on. 

He’s barely hearing Shoko at this point — “I took off my clothes, I got my towel, and then I—“ and the realization struck him — the curse, “I consumed the curse I collected today from my mission,” he mutters, “fuck—“ 

And then there’s a knock at the door, “Suguru?” He heard you call through the door. His dick throbs at the sound of your voice. 

Shoko’s voice cuts through the white noise, “Suguru, the curse you ate — was there something different about it?” 

“It was a grade one — it seemed a little too easy to defeat — it formed in—“ he swallows thickly, “in a brothel,” 

“I’ve heard of curses being lustful, but not of them becoming a stimulant,” she murmurs, and he can hear her sigh, “you could try extracting the curse from your body — I doubt that would be effective at this point. I assume the effects will linger until the symptoms pass — just as it does when you become nauseous or sick from swallowing other curses,” 

His phone buzzed with texts from you: 

You: I’m outside, I grabbed takeout for us this time since you always treat me! 

You: are you home? 

His mind swam, it wasn’t the takeout he was craving — it was you. But no, no — he couldn’t. Not like this, but he was fighting a losing battle and he just about lost the war along with it. 

“I don’t know, how do I get it to pass?” he was desperate, the sounds of your knocks and messages ringing in his ear, along with your sweet voice — why do you sound so good with his name on your lips? So sweet — his boxers grow even tighter — bet you even taste even sweeter. 

“If dealing with it yourself didn’t work, then,” she sighs, “you’re going to need a partner,” 

Another knock. 

“Shoko, I have to go,” and he hangs up before she can get another word — a thought to thank her and apologize shoved to the back of his mind, as he stumbles to his door, a thunk as he nearly tumbled into it, wood and hinges groaning under the force and weight. 

“Suguru?” you’re so worried yet his name on your tongue was nearly enough to have him cumming in his boxers then, the wet patch of his boxers nearly making the fabric translucent, “are you okay?” 

He says your name, “You should go home, I’m not feeling well—“ 

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” And he’s biting his lip, teeth digging into his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, “let me in,” 

“I can’t—I can’t let you help with this,” he’s shaking his head, “please, sweetheart, you have to go—“ And he hears the clink of your key going into the door — fuck, that goddamn key he gave you, and the door pulls open, just as he braces himself against the doorframe. 

Your brow furrowed in concern, takeout bag in hand, as your eyes examined him, until they found their way to his boxers. 

“Suguru—“ 

“You should leave — I can’t explain, there’s a curse inside me—“ 

Your eyebrows knit together, “Suguru, a curse did this to you? What happened?” And he’s shaking his head, mind far too gone, as he forces himself away, “let me help—“ 

“You can’t help. I have to get out of my system but the only way is—“ he cuts off, as he groans again, body and mind railing against each other, as his body just seemingly burns from even being near you. 

“There must be something—“ and you step closer, and he can barely hold back from grabbing you, fingers twitching to wrap around your waist, the other holding your neck, lips finding yours, as he fucking rips his own clothes off— “I want to help—“ 

He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt incessantly, as you step closer, closing the gap between your bodies, and he can only focus on the way your pretty lips part, the way your chest curves under your shirt, and the far too short shorts you choose to wear — fuck. 

He was so fucked. 

He can’t hold back, as he’s drawing close to you in a moment, his mind clouded with lust, the hitch of your breath only making him want you more — but he forced every muscle in his body to stop.  He couldn’t. Not until you agreed. 

“If you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” he says lowly, his lips nearly brushing your ear, “I want you — regardless of this, I’ve wanted you for so long,” the confession tumbles from his lips because he needs you to know, needs you know so you can either leave him to his fate or help him get through this, “but if you don’t feel the same—“ 

But to his surprise, you lean closer, breath warming his skin until it was left scalding, “who said I didn’t?” 

And he can’t hold back. 

His lips crash to yours, his hands holding your cheeks, as he grasps desperately to you, takeout boxes spilling from the plastic bag and your purse spilling your things when you drop it, your fingers grasping at his damp t-shirt. 

And your touch alone even through the fabric is nearly enough to make him bust a nut there and then — and his mind hadn’t even felt so clear until he felt your touch. He could notice every little detail about you — the way your breath caught when his fingers ghosted down your sides, the way your lips parted for his tongue without hesitation, and the way your knees shook when he squeezed your hips. 

“So pliant for me,” he murmurs, eager to touch more, to taste more, “such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?” 

And you’re nodding wordlessly — lips kiss ruined and red, saliva clinging to your lips when he parted from your lips — and he wonders which one of you swallowed a glorified sex curse. 

“Know how long I wanted to do this?” words said pressed with heated kisses down your neck — he was right, you tasted so sweet, he bet another part of you tasted even sweeter — “how many times I thought about this?” He nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, rewarded with a pretty gasp, “wanted to mark you up so many times — when that fucker tried to hit on you — I wanted to do more than just wrap my arm around you. Wanted to show him how he could never please you,” and he’s sucking a mark there, teeth grazing and pinching your skin before he soothes it with his tongue. He smiles against your skin, as he admires his handiwork. 

You whine when he drags a thumb down your puffy lips, “Sugu, please, more,” and his lips find yours again, swallowing your complaints and moans eagerly, as his large palms slide down your back to rest on your ass, squeezing as he presses you flush to his body, hard on pressed against your body. 

“Need my touch that much, Princess? Should’ve just fucked you in that club, huh? Let them see that you’re mine,”  And he’s walking you backwards towards his room, as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor of his living room. Your fingers running over his exposed flesh, thumbs teasing his sensitive nipples, pretty little lips pressing teasing kisses to both sides. 

Fuck, the need to bury his cock in you grew by the second. But he wanted to feel good first — been waiting too long. He had all night to fuck you — but he only had one time to do it right the first time. 

He’s walking you into the edge of his bed, as you both tumble onto the bed, his hands sliding under your shirt, tugging at the hem, and you help him take it off — and he hissed at the sight of nothing underneath. 

“Were you always coming to my place with no bra on?” his lips curl, as your eyes look away, embarrassment painted on your expression, “wanted this as long as I did, Princess? Don’t get so shy now — you’re the one who insisted on helping me, so aren’t you going to fulfill your promise?” His lips brush against your earlobe, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly. 

You shiver, biting your lip, before you’re tugging him fully onto the bed, before slinking off of it and onto your knees for him, “Then let me help you,”

When your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, he’s ready to cum right there — he’s so sensitive still, he’s sure he won’t last long, but fuck, he doesn’t care with how pretty you look between his legs. 

“Don’t be a tease, Princess, or I’ll pay you back later,” but your lips only curl, as you lean forward and press a kiss through the drenched fabric, tip of your tongue teasing his slit through his boxers.

“Oh I expect you to,” and you’re pulling his boxers down painfully slowly, letting the fabric of his boxers rub against his hard-on teasingly, a low hiss leaving the thin line of his lips, his balls aching with his release as his cock slaps against his stomach, “fuck, Sugu,” you murmur in almost reverence — he was thick, the tip flushed red with lovely beads of pre-cum already dripping down his length, your fingers already eager to trace those pretty veins, and feel the slight curve of his cock in your aching cunt, “how am I gonna fit you all in me?” 

And his cock twitches at your words, as you pity him with a chaste kiss to the top, “Please,” he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, fingers knuckles white as they fisted the now creased sheets, “fuck—“ as you blow air along his length, “I’ll cum all over your face at this rate,” 

“Oh I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sugu?” your point finger lightly follows the trail of his vein, as your lips continue to press butterfly kisses along his length, “paint my face with your cum,” 

And his fingers thread themselves in your hair, pressing his length to your lips, and you smirk, looking up at him with half lidded gaze, as your lips part and his length slides in — that’s all it takes. 

The coil in his stomach snaps, as he cums down your throat, hot seed spilling into your mouth, as his hips jerk against your mouth, his groans of your name sending a hot stripe of heat down to your cunt. 

Despite that, his cock only seems to grow larger, twitching against your tongue, as you part for a moment, a trail of saliva and cum dripping from your lips, “Taste so good, Sugu — gotta have you one more time—“ you envelop him with your lips again — and he’s a mess of moans, head thrown back, thick haze of lust as his eyes finally meet yours. You swallow around him, tongue wrapped around his length, as your sinful fingers touch whatever can’t fit in your mouth. 

“S’good baby, should’ve fucked this mouth a long time ago,” and he’s gone, as his hips begin to slowly roll against you, watching as you don’t resist, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, “good fucking girl, never gonna go a day without these lips around my cock,” and god, he’s so close — twitching in your mouth, but what sends him over the edge is when he feels you moan, and spots your hand down your shorts. 

Fuck, he’s pulling out, “can I—“ and you pump him in response, a grunt of your name as you let him cum all over your face and chest, the sight enough to make him hard all over again — his thick release slipping down your lips, as your tongue darts out to taste it again. 

And he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting his own cum on your lips, before grabbing his discarded shirt to clean you off. His hand grabs your wrist and eases it from inside your cunt, tongue darting out to lick the release from your fingers, cleaning each of them. 

In an instant, he’s got you spread on his bed, legs parted for him, “where’s that attitude now, pretty?” And his lithe fingers sneak under the elastic of your panties and snaps it against your skin, making you squirm, “seems like all those words fell out of your head just from sucking my cock,” 

He’s slowly dragging your underwear down, before pulling at his bedside drawer to stuff your panties in, “for later use,” and you can’t managed a reply before his lips are pressing butterfly kisses up your thighs, before his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips, before sucking and soothing it with his tongue, “mine, all mine,” he’s already hard again — the feel of your soft skin under his lips was enough to have him cumming again like a virgin — the burning in the pit of his stomach only burned brighter for you — god, would he ever work his way out of this state? But as his gaze was met with your lovely dripping cunt with your puffy clit begging him for attention, he couldn’t seem to care. 

You hiss when his fingers slowly spread your folds, “So fucking tight, baby, how am I gonna fit in you?” he clicks his tongue, inhaling, as his nose brushes against your clit, making your hips jump, “patience, gotta take my time with this princess cunt, gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” his dick twitching at his next sentence, “because I sink my cock in here, we’re not stopping at one round,” 

Your cunt squeezes around nothing at his words, his breath warming your sensitive pussy, until he finally drags a stripe up your needy folds. 

“Sugu, fuck,” his arms brace your thighs and hips down, as the tip of his tongue drags teasing circles around your clit, your slick gathering on his tongue, as he tastes it with a groan. 

“Fucking, the best thing I’ve tasted,” and as much as he wants to bury his dick in you, he could live with his face between your thighs, “so perfect f’me,” and his tongue trails in tight circles around your clit, while his finger toys with your entrance, gathering your pre on his finger, teasing your entrance and delighting in the way your breath hitches. 

He looks up at your face between half lidded eyes, you’re too fucking pretty — your hair a mess from, a sheen of sweat on your body, the lovely way your nipples were erect, and your eyes — pupils lost to lust and need. And all for him. 

Fuck, he knows he won’t last long at this rate, he can already feel the urge to palm his raging cock, but he wants you to cum first, and he’s sinking a finger into your sweet cunt. He can almost imagine how your walls would feel fluttering around his cock — but he doubts his engorged tip would be even fit right now. 

No, he needed to make this good for you — he slowly starts to finger fuck you as his tongue circles your clit in tighter circles, even sucking on it, and by the way your fingers grasped at the sheets, crumpling under your touch — you liked it. 

Pretty moans left your lips, as your fingers found their way to his dark locks, still slightly damp from his shower — as he added a second finger inside. His name said between pants, as his fingers drag against your molten insides — the wet squelch rang in his ears as he fucked your cunt open. Knuckle deep in your sweet pussy, he knows he’s addicted — to the feeling of your molasses insides — warm and soft for him, his digits curling against your walls, looking for that one place that would make you fall apart. 

“Sugu, please, please ‘m close—,” and he knows you need a little more, and he’s obliging with a chuckle, a third finger joining the other two, and he’s fucking you in earnest now — lips closing around your clit and sucking mercilessly, as his fingers find that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Your back arches, as your nails dig into his scalp, as you cum around his fingers — walls fluttering as he eats you out through your high, his name leaving your lips again and again, as you slowly come down from your high, thighs twitching and chest heaving as you do. 

As he finally pulls away, his chin and mouth glossy and drenched in a mixture of your cum and his spit — that he licks clean from where his tongue can reach, fingers collecting the rest, as he looks at your sticky cum gathered on his fingers. 

Fuck, he could live in your cunt. Your sweet taste was the only thing he’d crave now after consuming curses — he wondered if you’d let him eat you out for hours after the curses he ate — he was sure your taste was the only thing that would erase that disgusting like nothing else ever would. 

He’s giving you soft kisses after, dotting them up your body, murmuring praises, but you’re pulling him into a kiss, your fingers resting against the back of his neck, as your other hand finds his aching erection, swallowing his gasp with pleasure. 

“Want you, Sugu, please,” and your words are enough to make him cum right there, as he tugs your hand away, “Sugu—” 

“Won’t last long if you keep touching me and whining like that, Princess,” the heat only seems to lick at his skin like flames, engulfing him with every touch, and his cock was the epicenter of the wildfire, while you were the fuel that only made it consume you both to ash, “but I know it won’t be long until I’m fucking you again anyway,” Your cunt throbs at his words, as he draws close, dragging his weeping tip against your folds, watching his pre-cum smear against your slick with a grunt, “feels like you’re already trying to swallow me up, princess — you want this cock that bad?” fuck, he can’t hold back anymore, as he’s lining up himself up, and he’s sliding right into you with a groan, “know how long been waiting to do that?” his skin meeting yours as he bottoms out deliciously, stretching your walls out with his girth, pleasure ripping up your spine, “wanted to do this since the moment you walked through the door, but needed to do this right — when nothing about this was right,” he had so many things to say, while your mind had left you with not even a syllable, his cock twitched and pulsed inside your walls, dragging against it deliciously, “wish our first time wasn’t like this — but I’m so glad it’s finally happened, sweetheart,” 

And you can’t help but smile up at him, lips parted with a small moan, as tears burned at your eyes from his size, “Me too, Sugu, wanted you for so long, needed you—” and he’s kissing your tears and words away with his lips, 

Then he begins to fuck you — hard, the slapping of your skin and the wet squelch of your sex filling up most of the silence of the room, while both of your moans and grunts took up the rest. Your cunt was heaven to him — warm, wet walls wrapped around his aching cock — the slightest bit of relief was overcome with waves and waves of need — he needed to fuck you, needed to make you cum, needed to cum inside — he just needed you. 

“S’big, Sugu, too big,” you whine, he was almost too much for you, the way his dick fucked places you only could imagine reaching, as his mouth leaned down to take a pert nipple between his lips — sucking and licking, as he couldn’t have enough of you, while his hand toyed with the other, “feels too good,” 

“I know baby, gonna fuck your princess cunt so good — make sure its made just for me,” he’s murmuring, as his teeth graze your tit, as he pistons into you again and again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix with each thrust, “all mine, baby, fuck — such a good girl for me,” and the praise has you keening against him, the knowing flutter of your cunt that tells him you’re all too close to the edge, as his hand reaches between your bodies to rub at your clit, “cum for me, pretty, need to feel your pretty little cunt squeeze me,” 

And you do, falling apart as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again — fuck, you felt so good, as he watched his cock slip in and out of you, a white ring of your release forming around his base. He’s fucking close too — can feel his balls tense, eager to blow his load, “where—” 

You’re still moaning, eyes blown out in pleasure, as you watch him fuck you again and again, “Inside, Sugu, fill me up,” and that’s it, he’s gone — spurting his hot release, painting your walls, as he does, fucking it inside you — deeper, deeper, until he stills for a moment. And you’re twitching, eyes fluttering shut, when he pulls out, a groan parting his lips as he watches his seed spill from your cunt. 

But then silence for several moments, the soft pants of your breathing only, before you hear him swearing and grunting, as your eyes open, and your pussy twitches at the sight before you. Suguru’s hand slid up and down his still erect cock, his eyes squeezed shut, as he groaned, “Suguru—” 

“Wasn’t enough, need more,” he’s shaking his head, as his fingers squeeze around the base of his cock, “thought it would be enough to cum with you, but I can still feel it—” and he’s groaning, as you sit up, watching your mixed releases drip from you, “baby—” 

And your lips kiss the tip of his weeping cock, “I told I’d help you,” and you ease his hand away, as you lick up his length, your eyes fixed on his, “just because we fucked, doesn’t mean we’re done,” 

And in a moment, he’s got you flipped onto your hands and knees, as his cock slaps against your ass, his fingers squeezing the flesh, as he leans over to kiss your back, “Then I guess we’re gonna be up all night, sweetheart, because if you’re okay with this — I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with just a blowjob,” his tip drags against your messy cunt, “gonna need something a little tighter than your mouth,” and he’s sinking his thick cock into you again, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to fuck you, “better cancel any plans you have, pretty — because we’re not leaving this bed for a while.” 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby,” his fingers grab your chin, and force you to meet his gaze, as he fucks into you, as you sit on his lap, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, “almost gonna cum, and don’t want you to be asleep for it,” 

How many times had you fucked? You had lost count — but you knew you had done it in far too many positions — on your hands and knees, standing up, against the wall, from behind with his hand gripping your leg up, and far too many others — and now you were spread in his lap, cock deep in your pulsing pussy, his lips kissing your neck, as he fucked into you, his dick reaching a deeper angle from this position, easily able to hit the furthest parts of you. 

He had cum in you more than you thought was humanly possible — and you supposed it wasn’t — it was only the curse that enabled this — it was animalistic even, the way he rutted into you desperately. He grabbed a water bottle only to take a swig, and find your lips again, forcing you to swallow the water. 

“Good girl,” he’s grunting, his hips beginning to stutter, “I’m close baby, are you?” You hadn’t thought it was still possible to feel pleasure at this point, but it was — his cock dragged against your walls, his dark gaze finding yours, “tell me you wanna cum,” and your pussy twitches at his order, “use your words, pretty, or have I fucked them all out?” 

“Please, Suguru, I wanna cum on your cock,” and you’re so fucking close again — the all too familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap any moment. 

“Fuck, greedy pussy hasn’t enough of me? We’ve been fucking until the daylight now,” as his hand grabs your chin to make you see the first rays of light peaking over the horizon, and he’s making you bounce on him with each thrust of his dick — your orgasm building and building with every brush of his tip against your g-spot, “fuck, s’good for me, baby — been so good — just need one more and we can stop,” and tears stream down your cheek that only make him groan, his lips finding yours in a messy, sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth right as his cock hits at the deepest part of you— 

And you squirt all over him, drenching his cock and lap as you cum, your lips parting from him, as your head is thrown back, boneless, as he fucks into you, your spasming walls pulling him over the edge as he paints your insides with his release, fucking it into you, until he finally slows, your body draped on his, head resting on his shoulder. Bodies sticky with sweat and cum, his cock finally softens inside you, the heat finally beginning to dull, as he presses soft kisses and gentle caresses to every inch of your skin, as he lays you down carefully, pulling himself from you. 

“Thank you, princess, thank you,” and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck, soft breaths cooling the sheen of sweat on his skin, “did so good for me,” and he slowly rises, grabbing his shirt and running it under water to clean you off, if only a little. 

You’re already half asleep, eyes only fluttering half open to watch him, and he can’t help but bite his lip,  “Sugu?” 

“Yes, princess?” And you nod, fingers twitching for him, and his lips curl as he obliges, wrapping you up in his body, “know it was rough on you baby, I’ll make it up to you — don’t worry, just rest,” he grabs a water bottle, and lifts your head ever so slightly and helps you drink some water. 

“I know you want to ask me something,” and he pauses, as he pulls the bottle away, “I can see the gears grinding in your head — you can ask me anything, y’know,” you had quite the way of embarrassing him, didn’t you? 

“I know, I just,” he swallowed, “was there any other reason you came back to Tokyo, aside from the threats, did you come back for anything else?” 

And your lips curl, raising an eyebrow knowingly, “Anything or anyone you mean?” and you chuckle when his eyes can’t meet yours, your fingers finding his again, “baby,” and your hand brushes against his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw, making his breath catch, “I did come back for someone — a very particular someone,” and he smiles, as your lips lean up to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “and my friends, of course,” you add, “I love Utahime, but I missed Shoko and Satoru, and you,” 

“You did?” he murmurs, and you giggle, kissing him again, melting into his touch again, as your foreheads brushed against the other’s, “Sugu?” and it’s your turn to ask something now, chewing on your bottom lip, “can we do this again?” you murmur, before adding, “not like this but—“ 

And he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer, lips finding your leaping pulse, “Yes, we can, if you want to — because I know I do, because,” his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “but I want all of you — want your body, your thoughts, your time, your heart and soul—“ and his lips quirk at the sight of your eyes widening ever so slightly, “is that okay?” 

And your lips find his own as an answer, sweet kisses turn languid, heat stealing any doubts from either of your minds, “As long I have yours as well,” and the two of you share only a few more kisses, before you both finally drift off. 

“If he’s fine, and I’m checking on him, I’m kicking his ass,” Satoru grumbled, as he held his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, Shoko sighing as he rooted through his pockets for his keys. 

Shoko chewed her lip, she hadn’t heard from him in hours, “He was in bad shape, I can't find the time to go check and you were on your way home anyway,” Shoko says, wiping her brow, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers. 

“Yeah, on my way home back from a mission,” he finally finds his keys, sticking Suguru’s spare key into the lock and turning it, “If I have jet lag, and all I find is him jerked off and sleeping, you owe me,” 

He twists the knob, and looks — he doesn’t see Suguru in the living room or kitchen — but he does see takeout containers spilled on the floor, along with a very familiar bag, and he blinks, before his lips curl. He asks if she’s heard from you, to which she says no, 

He walks silently to Suguru’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to see you and Suguru curled up against each other, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, the comforter strewn about and covering the rest of your bodies. 

Satoru only grins, before he pulls his phone from his ear and switches to the camera. 

“Never mind, Shoko, I owe you one,” and he snaps a picture of the two of you, wondering how many missions he could pawn off to Suguru now, “I’ll treat you to lunch.” 

✧ a/n: so this turned out way longer than i thought (story of my life). i had so much fun writing this - i've been writing this in conjunction with prof geto part 3 and its been funny darting back and forth between these two -- although the scenes i've been writing

✧ taglist: @peachyminx, @garfunklefield, @unicornqueen05, @hiyori-ii, @equikaz, @unoriginalidea, @forest-fruits-jam, @torusinfinity, @hellkaiserinphoenix, @loonimae, @gojoedd, @sugurufic, @glaceliy, @telvess, @kentocalls, @nayasch, @iluvvreze, @yamaguccitadashi, @faeismism, @hanxyy, @catsgomurp, @sukaibg, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @gojorgeous, @getos-slvtt, @sirencholia, @teatreeoilll, @dewdropdive, @appysauc, @kobycetacean, @missroki, @fushitoru, @pricetagofficial, @that-goth-bisexual, @shoyosdoll, @regrettinglifechoices, @mostinsanegirl, @roseybean, @fayyyrieee, @gojobbg, @strangehuman101, @saccharine-nectarine, @i-belong-in-a-retirement-home, @spider-fan72

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. "Shut up, mom!" prank with JJK men.

➜ featuring: nanami kento, gojo satoru, geto suguru.

➜synopsis: your child(ren) has a death wish for sure.

➜note: wasn't able to pick a name for nanami's child. also sorry to the anon who sent this, i had a hard time understanding the request at first. anyway, part 2?

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

༉‧₊˚. NANAMI KENTO

“You need to start learning how to fold your clothes,” you mention casually to your daughter as you carry a basket of warm laundry to the couch.

“Why would I do that?” Nanami’s eyes look up from his book, but he doesn’t budge.

“When you move out, you will only have yourself to rely on,” you continue with the advice and your daughter rolls her eyes as she makes her way to the kitchen.

“Ugh moving out this, moving out that. Just say you want to get rid of me.”

“What–I would never, I’m just reminding you that one day you will become an adult and–”

“Oh just shut up, mom!” 

You truly gave birth to a mini you, a prankster. When you first saw the tiktok trend, you and your daughter had giggled to yourselves at the thought of getting a reaction out of her father. Though, you did warn her of the repercussions. Your husband did not play when it came to showing respect to you.

“I beg your pardon?” Nanami sits up from the couch so fast, it almost makes you jump out of your skin. You don’t have time to react, or hold him back before he is storming towards the kitchen where your teenage daughter was hiding. “What did you just say to your mother?”

“I said shut up, because she was bothering me.”

“And you think that’s one way to speak to my wife?” You see his eyebrows furrow, he even slams the book he was reading down on the kitchen counter so hard that his arm veins are about to pop out.

“Kento,” you walk up behind him, calling out his name softly.

“No, let me take this.”

“No baby listen–”

“I said I will take this.” It’s only when he repeats himself in a stern manner, that your daughter starts to giggle nervously.

“Daddy, it was a prank.”

“Yeah, baby it’s a prank.” You rub his shoulders and biceps reassuringly. Your daughter quickly wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest.

“I’d never be disrespectful like that.”

“Yeah well, it almost gave me a heart attack,” his voice is now much softer and warmer as he exhales, running his fingers through his daughter’s hair. He pulls you towards him and kisses your forehead before patting his daughter’s head.

“Now, whose idea was it?”

“Mommy’s.”

“Hey!” 

༉‧₊˚. GOJO SATORU

“Hey Ryuu, could you take out the trash please?” 

“No, I’m busy.” Satoru’s ears perk up at the sound of his son’s tone. But he doesn’t budge from where he’s standing in the kitchen.

“Baby, it’s been sitting there all day and it’s full. Could you please–”

“Shut up, mom. I said I’m busy.”

Normally, Satoru wasn’t easy to rile up. His relationship with his son was hilarious, one where he doted on his child whilst the latter pretended as though he couldn’t stand all the love and affection he received from his dad. But despite all the love that Satoru had for his son, you were number one. You come first, you are his wife and the mother of his child. When his son will leave, you will be the one he gets to spend the rest of his time with–and when he decided to marry you, a child wasn’t even in the picture.

So he will be damned if he was just going to stand there and let his son talk to you like that.

You freeze when you feel a sudden surge of cursed energy–you knew your husband when he got angry, it clouded over the rational part of his brain. So when you see him start to walk upstairs where his son is, you have to physically grab his arm to stop him. Thank god the infinity was off.

“Satoru– toru! Baby!”

“Who the fuck does he think he is, huh?” His eyes are glowing. You really shouldn’t have played this prank on him.

“It’s a prank baby.” 

“A prank?” It’s fascinating how this man can go from 0 to 100 back to 0 so quickly. He calms down so fast, glancing at the top of the stairs where he sees his son standing with his hands in his pockets.

“I told her it would be a bad idea.”

“I–hey! I didn’t think it was gonna be this bad,”

“I did,” Ryuu starts to walk down the stairs and past you two. “He’s said it before. He doesn’t play when it comes to people showing you respect, even if it’s his own son.” 

Satoru can only sigh at his son’s words before staring at you. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t…But I won’t lie, seeing you riled up like that–”

“I’m too old to have a sibling!”

༉‧₊˚. GETO SUGURU

Your girls were a giggly mess. You shush them before saying very loudly.

“In what world is this acceptable?” 

“Mom,” your daughter, Tsukimi, feigns an annoyed tone, refusing to look up from her phone. “I really don’t care.”

“But I do.” You stand over her bed, motioning for her twin sister to get into the role as well.

“Does it matter?” Asahi uses the same annoyed, bored tone. One that quickly catches Suguru’s attention. He walks into the main area from the garage before hearing the argument upstairs. 

Quickly wiping his hands with the dirty rag attached to his pants, he starts to make his way up to your twin daughters’ room to see what it was about. 

“Of course it does, I’m your mother.”

“You’re really just pushing it.”

“You sneaked out last night! Do you know how disappointed your father will be?” Suguru freezes up at the revelation. But he doesn’t let his disappointment or anger get the best of him, maybe the four of you can work this out–your girls were at a rebellious age, this was bound to happen and all he needs to do is figure out a way for all of you to get along without–

“Aren’t you supposed to be our best friend or something?” Tsukimi sits up on the bed, furrowing her eyebrows in a way that reminds you how similar her and her father’s features are. 

“Right now I’m your mother.” 

“Oh would you just shut up?”

A loud slam makes the three of you flinch, and you turn to find Suguru standing by the door looking as angry as a raging bull.

“Who said it.”

“Wha–”

“Who said it. Who was it?” He is so furious you could see steam coming out from the top of his head. “Have you lost your fucking minds to be talking to your mother like that? Did I fail at educating you or what?”

“Suguru–”

“No,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you out of the room. “I need to talk to them.”

“No wait, listen–”

“I don’t want to hear it.” When you see that he had a stern look on his face, you realize that you need to save your daughters from the prank.

“It was a prank. I promise you.” 

“It really was a prank,” your twin daughters are sitting on the same bed, looking as sheepish and as guilty as ever. 

“And it was my idea,” Tsukimi adds. 

“And I didn’t stop her.” Your thumbs trace his cheeks, smiling apologetically at him. “Sorry,” 

Suguru sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he shakes his head.

“Fucking prankters. That almost gave me a heart attack.”

“But admit it, we’re good actresses, right?” Asahi asks with a grin and Suguru chuckles before ruffling her hair.

“Yeah, you sure are.”

➜ ┊: COMMISSIONS | KOFI

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