#apologizing is for weaklings

[molarbeardoc]

Forgot to sent this here eat my starved creatures

[sketchingdemonss]

i pull the crops from my mind fields and all i harvested were these vintages what the hell

[awesomebutunpractical]

Brook and Chopper both jumping in to save a drowning Luffy was very funny - that was very funny of them.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Tucker: Don't look now, but Wayne is making his way over. And he's doing that stupid face again.

Sam: Ugh, I do not have the mental strength for this. Did he not get the message last time?

Danny: I had the flu for the last gala, catch me up.

Tucker: That guy is Damian Wayne, the youngest son of Bruce Wayne, one of the wealthiest men in the country. Major Old Money. And he happened to take a liking to our dear Samantha here, after she passionately started ranting about environmental protections at the last gala. Spent the whole night desperately attempting to flirt with her and failing. Failing badly.

Danny: *snorts* Aw Sam has an admirer.

Sam: It's not funny, Danny! He's one of the richest boys in one of the most corrupted and dangerous cities. What do you think that means? He's obviously involved in organized crime!

Danny: Says the richest girl from the most haunted place in America.

Tucker: That's what I said last time-

Damain: Good evening, Miss Manson. Gentlemen.

Danny/Tucker/Sam: *Jumps a foot in the air* Where did you come from!?

Damain: Apologies for the scare. I merely wanted to introduce you, gentlemen, to these two fine people. This is Timothy Drake-Wayne and Stephanie Brown. They were hoping to speak to you two privately while I conversed with Miss Manson

Sam hissing under her breath: He obviously asked them to distract you two to get me alone. It's a honey-pot.

Tim: Hey ;)

Steph: How are you? ;)

Danny/Tucker: You're on your own Sam, I'm not giving up a honey-pot this good

Sam: You pathetic weaklings.

[sunderwight]

Been thinking about the potential of a Luo Binghe transmigration fic where he has a similar experience to Shen Yuan's -- meaning, he transmigrates into a story that didn't originally have a "Luo Binghe", but rather a different character with a similar name, and Bingmei himself still has his canonical personality and broad strokes modern version of his backstory (i.e. abandoned, adopted, orphaned, struggling with the foster system, etc), whereas the character he transmigrates into has a different background and personality.

So, concept: Luo Binghe transmigrates into Su Binghe, the spoiled prince of the demon realms, son of Tianlang Jun and Su Xiyan and scum villain of the novel he read.

In said novel, Su Binghe was driven by a perpetual lack of satisfaction with things. He had almost everything handed to him on a silver platter, but none of it seemed to actually matter to him. His parents were powerful and loving, but also extremely busy and somewhat distant. His sibling relationships were soured by the fact that they were all basically raised separately by different groups of servants and expected to compete with one another for the supreme throne of the demon realms one day. The servants who raised him also had only limited authority over him, thanks to his rank, so he was encouraged to be self-centered and tyrannical from an early age because behaving that way helped him get whatever he wanted. Yet he felt ultimately purposeless and lonely, lacking any actual friends or companions.

Shen Yuan, the main character, was the third son of a wealthy noble house and was stolen by demons during a raid on his family's properties. He was rescued by Tianlang Jun's people, who officially disapprove of attacks on humans (special cases like Huan Hua Palace being an exception), but not before the rest of his family was killed or else sold off into less friendly territories. Shen Yuan himself was subsequently taken on as a ward of the emperor, as a sort of apology for the whole deal, and inserted into the somewhat younger Su Binghe's household as a companion and tutor to try and curb the prince's loneliness. The empress also took Shen Yuan on as a personal disciple, as the only person able to teach him human-style cultivation.

This worked about as well as anyone expected, which was to say that the spoiled prince treated his weakling human tutor like his own personal chew toy, blowing hot and cold, manipulating and mistreating, jealously resenting Shen Yuan's attention from his mother while also taking every opportunity to insert himself into the additional lessons as well.

Eventually the situation came to a head, with Shen Yuan lashing back after being pushed to the limits, and Su Binghe using the "attack" as an excuse to exile him in the midst of hostile demon territory. Thus began the protagonist's power-up montage segment, where he was forced to fight and survive, leveling up his skills until he came across Xiu Ya.

Xiu Ya was a legendary sword that had been wielded by an equally legendary human cultivator, an actual secret ancestor of Shen Yuan's, long ago. It was sealed away by a past Heavenly Demon emperor, after its wielder managed to use it to successfully kill one of their kind (a difficult feat). By sealing the blade deep within the demonic realms, the past emperors had assured themselves that no human cultivator would successfully venture so deep into their territories nor uncover its hiding place, and so they mostly warded it against other demons (who might want to return it to the humans in order to sabotage the Heavenly Demons). Thus, Shen Yuan successfully liberated the blade, and after winning a harrowing battle against an ancient evil (boss fight!) with it, he ascended to godhood.

But, even the heavens weren't merciful in this story, and Shen Yuan was tasked with using Xiu Ya to end the threat of the Heavenly Demon race once and for all before he could claim his rightful place among them. If he failed, his soul would be forfeit and Xiu Ya would shatter, eternally condemning the mortal plane to the tyranny of demonic rule.

Luo Binghe absolutely loved the character of Shen Yuan, even though his story was kind of trash, and he did not want to transmigrate into Su Binghe, especially not with a mandate hanging over his head that he had to one day cast his favorite protagonist out into the wilds, and then let him kill Binghe in order to fulfill a mandate from the heavens!

Featuring:

-Modern day culinary student Bingmei, absolutely revolutionizing food prep in the demon realms and desperately wishing he could change the genre to one of those slice-of-life cozy escapist novels instead.

-Bingmei being actually a thousand times sneakier and more self-aware than his predecessor, taking Su Binghe's absolutely pathetic attempts at politics and making it work for him instead (between the foster care system and the food service industry, Bingmei takes no prisoners).

-Su Binghe originally had a sprawling harem by the time Shen Yuan reunited with him. Luo Binghe wants nothing to do with it, so he has to just keep on dodging his parents attempts to set him up in political matches.

-Some of Shen Yuan's original household and family actually did survive, so Luo Binghe dedicates himself to rescuing the rest of them to try and farm points with the protagonist. This results in him retrieving Shen Yuan's brother, Shen Jiu (asshole rat bastard feral cat of a guy, Luo Binghe almost wishes he'd failed), Shen Yuan's personal companions the Liu siblings (terrible decision, Shen Yuan's always waxing poetically about how beautiful they are), Shen Yuan's younger sister Yingying (annoying but nice), Shen Jiu's situationship Yue Qi (there is something deeply wrong with that guy), and the son of the family's head servant, Shang Qinghua (weird rodent man, somehow has evil advisor vibes despite also looking sort of like the designated non-threatening one in an idol group).

-Bingmei identifies Mobei Jun as a fellow transmigrator pretty early on, when he absently whistles the notification sound for a smart phone and Mobei reaches for his pocket. Mobei Jun's approach to transmigrating is basically to say and do as little as possible. Bingmei subsequently doesn't find out that he is in fact the author of the original book until some time after the main plot has passed.

-Despite not wanting to, Bingmei is fully prepared to die in order to secure Shen Yuan's eventual destiny as a god. He only hopes he might go out cleanly and with more sympathy than the original goods got. Imagine his horror when Shen Yuan decides he's going to fight the gods instead of wiping out the Heavenly Demons.

[kthologue]

all mine — gojo satoru

synopsis. It’s the exchange event and gojo doesn’t like how that kyoto boy is looking at you. 

contents.  fluff, jealous!gojo, minor male oc, loosely based on that one jujutsu scroll, satoru is really insufferable and problematic but in his defense he is lovesick

gojo satoru is seething. he knows that you’re good looking, but he doesn’t need the entire world to know that either. if it were up to him, your beauty would be for his eyes only. 

especially not that kyoto third year who has been eyeing you since your arrival.

it was sickening, really. and to add salt to the wound, you have been oblivious to it all. one moment, gojo has his arms draped around your shoulders, and in the blink of an eye, you were being whisked away by that third year.

“please don’t do what i think you're trying to do,” shoko’s unamused voice breaks his train of thought. her knowing gaze made gojo chuckle.

“who, me? why do you assume i’m plotting something?” gojo feigns innocence, hoping his friend couldn’t sense the vicious wave of cursed energy that was leaking out of him. 

shoko doesn’t bother telling him that his usual sky blue eyes were darker, clouded with annoyance or whatever angsty emotion he was dealing with. suguru snorts at his best friend’s silent torment.

“he’s kinda cute,” shoko places a hand on her hip while she observes you conversing with the brown haired third year from kyoto. he was probably a clan kid, judging by his traditional kimono design for a uniform. “you think [name]’s into him?” she eggs gojo on with a smirk on her lips. 

suguru bumps his shoulder against hers as a silent warning.

it takes a moment for satoru to process shoko’s conclusion, the realization evident on his face as his eyes slowly widened. 

“like hell she is.” satoru’s fist clench and he thinks that he will explode if you keep entertaining that stupid kyoto boy. why waste your time with a weakling, when satoru, who was much worthier of your attention was standing just a couple of meters away in the same courtyard? satoru glares at you from above his glasses, hoping you can feel just an ounce of the anger he feels. 

you don’t. 

he thinks he dies a little bit on the inside. in fact, he thinks you’re purposefully messing with his mind with the way you playfully smack the kyoto boy’s shoulder with the same soft hand that gojo has dreamed of holding since his first year. 

“stop being dramatic and let's warm up. we have team battles today.” annoyance is evident in suguru’s voice. yaga had warned the duo that if either of them acted up during the exchange event, the consequences would be dire.

“dramatic?” he scoffs, his glare not wavering. “she has the audacity to look beautiful in the presence of other men. she’s doing this on purpose.” his arms are crossed now.

exasperated looks are exchanged by his two friends.

screw whatever yaga said. without wasting another moment, satoru forced his way in your direction, ignoring suguru's attempt to stop him. shoko, however, held suguru back. "don't," she said, her eyes fixed on gojo. "i want to see what this idiot will do."

suguru sighed, acknowledging that gojo deserved whatever was coming his way.

you realize that perhaps you are too lenient with gojo satoru. you have forgiven every stunt he has pulled, but the look on his face right now as he approaches you with a wide grin makes you sense that might end now.

“wifey!” he closes the space between you. you furrow your eyebrows at the unfamiliar pet name. “how could you leave me for some kyoto scum?” 

you choke on air at his blatant insult to the boy in front of you. 

“ah, i apologize, i couldn’t help myself but steal her when i saw her. i’m ishikawa daisuke–”

“what a bold statement to say to her husband!” gojo doesn’t spare ishikawa a second glance, choosing to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. too shocked to move, you let gojo relish in the intimate action. 

you’re equally as surprised as ishikawa at satoru’s declaration, a strangled noise escaping from your mouth. the idea of gojo as your husband… it was enough to make your brain short circuit. where did he even get the idea from?

ishikawa’s eyes are blown wide, any semblance of self confidence thrown out of the window,  “i-i apologize for the misunderstanding. i wasn’t aware you were already married so young.” he stutters, bowing deeply to gojo who is smirking with a hand on his hip. 

“damn right we are. i knew i had to tie the knot with this beauty the moment i met her.” satoru proudly exclaims, his gaze softening when it returns on you. the initial shock is starting to wear off and you are shooting gojo your harshest glare. satoru’s antics seem to never end.

“isn’t my wifey the cutest?” he coos down at you, tapping your nose with a single finger. you are tempted to bite it off. 

“gojo satoru, you are the most insufferable man that i know,” you point at his chest angrily. “the most delusional too.” you mutter.

 he places a pained hand to his chest,  “you know other men? you’re killing me sweetheart.”

ishikawa coughs awkwardly, reminding you of his presence. you give him your best sympathetic look.

satoru, annoyed that your attention is off of him once again narrowed his eyes at the brown haired boy, “shouldn’t you be practicing with the rest of the kyoto weaklings? i recommend you to do so if you don’t want to be killed on the battlefield today.” satoru’s voice is an octave lower. 

“satoru!” you’re startled by his indirect threat, quick to defend your senior who looked like he was moments away from pissing his pants. 

“i-if you will excuse me.” ishikawa bows deeply once again before scurrying away without another word. you watch him hopelessly. the moment ishikawa is gone, satoru’s intimidating aura is replaced with a pout as he crosses his arms bitterly. 

“if you wanted my attention you could’ve just asked.” satoru exhales forcefully with a hmph. his arms are still crossed and if it weren’t for the fact that he had acted utterly out of line, you would almost go as far as calling him cute. 

“excuse me?”

“you were trying to get my attention,” he points out. “you don’t have to y’know.” my eyes are always on you. the words die on his lips.

a scoff leaves your mouth, disbelief is evident on your face, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“you do!”

“are you jealous or something?” the idea that the great gojo satoru was sick with envy amused a cruel part inside of you.

“who? me? what could that country bumpkin have that i don’t?” he sounds almost offended at your accusation. 

“he’s nice.”

“i can be nice!" satoru whines. there is desperation in his eyes. "i bought a can of tuna for that stray cat the other week, remember?”

“yeah, but he’s nice to people. he’s also polite and-”

“alright i get it! you don’t have to keep talking about him.” satoru's eyebrows furrow in sync with the way his bottom lip slightly juts out. “i just didn’t like how he looked at you.”

“and how did he look at me?” 

satoru grumbles. was it not obvious enough? “his gaze was devouring you like you were his or something. honestly, what a loser. he’ll have to get in line.”

frustration laces your words as you challenge him, “you can’t just march around scaring off all of the guys that i talk to. i want you to admit that you were jealous."

satoru's jaw drops.

"you can't be serious." he protests, cerulean eyes widening. "i'm starting to think you like torturing me." you smile at his comment. you were indeed doing this on purpose.

"oh but i am completely serious," you reply with faux innocence, eyes blinking at him. “satoru.” you enunciate each syllable of his name, dealing the finishing blow.

he folds. you were being so unfair.

"i was jealous." he confesses petulantly. your grin widens as he admits his jealousy. the victory, however, is short-lived as satoru seizes the opportunity to sneak in another flirty comment. “it’s not my fault my dream girl happens to be everyone else’s.”

a groan escapes your lips, and you take your hand, lightly flicking his forehead. satoru accepts the physical contact happily.

"when will you give this bit up?" you retort, raising an eyebrow. 

“when i finally put a ring on that finger,” satoru winks. you regard his words with skepticism, oblivious to the fact that he was dead set on it.  gojo satoru was going to make you his, or at least die trying.

remember spring days masterlist

extra notes:

prior to the exchange event, utahime actually warned ishikawa that you were off limits. she didn’t elaborate why.

poor ishikawa seemed to be the target of most of satoru’s attacks during the team battle.

tokyo won the event by an overwhelming amount.

“i deserve victory kisses for carrying tokyo to victory, right [name]?” satoru had teased you on the way home.

you pretend to think about it, “hmm i think suguru’s curses were quite helpful. he’s the one that deserves the kisses.”

satoru had never moved faster in his entire life to cover your mouth with the palm of his hand and whisk you away from his best friend who had joined in your joke.

[ba9go]

bakugou katsuki finds you annoying (he can’t stop thinking about you) pt. 1

sort-of enemies to lovers with bakugou katsuki <3

read part 2 💥 part 3 (nsfw)

from the very moment you walked into the 1-a classroom, you set off a ticking time bomb in bakugou katsuki. he hated your guts.

it was early in the morning, with about 20 minutes till class started. bakugou was seated in his chair, leaning back with his eyes closed, when all of a sudden he hears this agitating, grating voice.

his eyes snapped open and flicked to the source of the sudden noise.

you.

you stood in the doorway, bowing and apologising refusely to fucking icyhot for running into him. bakugou took one look at your stature next to todoroki’s and huffed. ‘idiot walks into a wall and apologises. what a dimwit.’

bakugou watches as todoroki awkwardly but earnestly bows back at you with a murmured apology of his own. you pause mid-bow to shake your head, “no, no, no, this was entirely my fault!” and bakugou thinks he can feel his temple twitch when you start laughing. “god, i’m sorry, we just look so stupid right now!”

‘damn right you do, fucking morons.’ bakugou tears his gaze away from your bright smiling face and spams the volume-up button on his phone until ears (jirou) can actually overhear travis scott from his earphones and flinches beside him.

bakugou closes his eyes and sighs through his nostrils. it’s way too fucking early for this.

later that day, aizawa-sensei announces that you’d be joining class 1-a as u.a.’s newest transfer student, and invites you to introduce yourself in front of the class.

you stood beside aizawa and introduce yourself with yet another beaming smile. your bright eyes roam around the classroom from face to face as you address your new classmates, until they land on bakugou, who narrows his eyes and glares at you.

bakugou feels a strange sense of satisfaction, watching you stutter mid-sentence, and he thinks you’re such an idiot, but then your eyes quickly dart away to look elsewhere and bakugou is somehow even more pissed off by you.

so he grinds his teeth and tears his gaze away from you once more to look out the window.

the rest of the week goes smoothly for you as you quickly befriended the class. with the exception of one, everyone seemed friendly and warm and genuinely interested to get to know more about you and your quirk. likewise, you were just as curious and enthusiastic about getting to know your classmates. with the exception of one.

you ignored bakugou like the plague — just as he’d wanted, bakugou thinks. you’re an eyesore, the way you’re all smiley and giggly, all of the damn time. bakugou hates it, hates the look in your eyes, like you’re so damn happy and you’re somehow just always having the time of your damn life.

‘just another fucking weakling who won’t last.’

it doesn’t take bakugou a long time to realise that his judgement of you was entirely off. you were in fact, not a weakling. you were strong, and you proved it every single time, putting your all in every training and going above and beyond with your hand stretched out to anyone who needed it, all the while with that damn smile on your face.

one training, bakugou busted one of his gauntlets. he had expected it, had already sensed that something was off when he was gearing up before training. he cursed under his breath and went to remove it, when you suddenly spawned by his side and scared the living shit out of him.

not that he’d ever admit it, but hearing your voice was enough to make his hair stand on end.

“hey, um, do you need help with that?” you asked, and bakugou freezed as you looked at him with those big, innocent eyes. “your gear, i mean.”

“hah?” bakugou flares up instinctively. it’s his default response to being approached, after all. “the fuck do you know about fixing jackshit?”

“oh, um, i tinker with a bunch of random stuff sometimes, so i figured maybe i could—”

“like hell i’m gonna let some idiot like you tinker with my shit,” bakugou sneers at you, and you flinch but you don’t take a step back. “find somethin’ else ta do if yer bored, sunshine.”

“sunshine— what—” you genuinely look a little concerned and even a little offended as you guffaw over bakugou’s words. “my quirk has nothing to do with sunshine!”

“hah?! ya think i’m stupid or some shit?! ‘course i know that it’s got shit to do with the sun, moron!”

“then why in the world would you call me that?!”

“i’ll call you whatever the fuck i want, shitface!”

then, class prez tenya iida dashes to break up the “fight”. “YOU TWO!!! BAKUGOU ESPECIALLY, CEASE YOUR SQUABBLING THIS INSTANT!!! SUCH PROFANITY IS NOT BECOMING OF A FUTURE—”

later that evening, you find yourself seated on the couch watching alien: covenant in the common room with kirishima, kaminara, sero and mina. however, you’re not paying much attention to whatever that egomaniac david’s doing in the movie, you’re still dwelling on how horribly your first proper interaction with bakugou had gone.

“y/n, darling, would you please tell us what’s wrong? this is, like, the tenth time you’ve sighed, and i know david is not that hot,” mina nudges your arm with an elbow. kaminari squawks in defiance, crying out that “if david’s not hot, i’m toast!” and kirishima reassuring him that he’ll be just fine, because “david’s just not manly, man!”.

“yeah, it’s not david,” you sighed yet again, and mina facepalms so hard you wince. “sorry, it’s just, i’m still a little peeved by what happened during training today.”

“bakugou, huh?” kirishima shoots you a wry smile, nodding sympathetically. “don’t mind it too much, bakugou’s just always like that!”

“i know, i know, but why the fuck did he call me sunshine?” you groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and shoving your face into it.

“holy shit, okay, guys, this must be really bad,” kaminari shoots up from his horrendous slouched position and grabs sero’s shoulders to shake him like it’s the end of the world. “y/n just swore, and bakugou is acting up! i mean, that doesn’t sound like bakugou at all!”

“okay, firstly, kaminari, i hate to break it to you, bud, but i swear. like, a lot,” you dropped the pillow in your lap. “secondly, what do you mean bakugou’s acting up? doesn’t he call everyone names all the time?”

“yeah, insultingly,” jirou walks by the common room and chimes in. she points at the earphone jacks dangling from her ears. “i’m “ears.””

“i’m pinky,” mina hums in agreement.

“soy-sauce face,” sero deadpans.

“dunceface!” kaminari high-fives sero.

“and bakugou calls me shitty hair,” kirishima completes with a sigh. “what did he call you again?”

“moron, sunshine, and shitface, i think?” an awkward silence falls over the room, and you frown. “what? what does that mean? does he, like, really hate the sun or something?”

“…not that i know of? but it sounds like, uh,” kirishima scratches his head and gives you another one of those wry smiles. “sounds like you don’t completely piss bakugou off.”

extras:

yes that was an abby miller reference

yes i have walked into a wall yes i apologised

i REALLY wanna watch alien romulus in cinemas soon PLS NO SPOILERS

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @valeriyaaak @v3n7s @deimosjay @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @busdriver-move-that-ass @atashiboba @kathsuhki @armeenix @channnee @antiwhores @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kenqki @vikizzy @thesimpybitch @eempxth @hanta-seros-wifey @itztaki @thekidscallmebosss

[lisssyyu]

Eternity to taste

PAIRINGS: Caitlyn Kiramman x wife!f!reader

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As you may have noticed, I really like to write with an emphasis on psychology (which is funny, because I am a lawyer by profession), so the second part may be (!) the last. In general, I really like writing in this genre, especially about the game Signalis, and maybe I'll even post a couple of fics about this fandom.

WARNING(S): Mention of violence; possession; control; implied manipulation; power imbalance; age difference (!Caitlin 28, !reader 22) ;; mention of pregnancy

wc: 6.3k

parts: 1 ;; 2 ;; ?

You no longer remembered how the street smelled, how noisy the main square was on holidays. The world that once seemed so alive and close had now dissolved into a fog, like an old photograph faded by time.

You only knew that Caitlyn drank coffee with milk, that on Tuesdays her gloves smelled of cold metal, and on Saturdays of lilacs. You knew that she always asked you to tie her tie, even though she could do it herself.

"I'm not holding you back," she said, stroking your hair like an obedient little animal. "But where will you go? To whom?"

You tried to imagine it. The city, the air, your friends. But if those thoughts had once brought a smile to your face, now your heart tightened into a knot of fear. The world had become huge and alien, frightening without her.

"They don't understand you," Caitlyn whispered, her voice growing colder and harder with every word. "They always laughed behind your back. I saw it."

You listened to her words in silence, but inside you were feeling something completely different. It was scary, not just because of what Caitlyn was saying, but because somewhere deep inside you, her words were starting to ring true.

Maybe it was true that no one was waiting for you outside the walls of this house. That your friends had long since turned their backs on you. That the world was too cruel to accept you as you were.

You felt more and more strongly how your former self that brave, lively person who once took to the streets with hope and dreams was slowly dissolving. Its place was filled with a cold, empty fear of being alone, of forgetting yourself and losing everything that was even remotely important.

Caitlyn was the one who never leaves, who harshly but unwaveringly keeps you on this precarious edge. There is no room for doubt in her voice, which means that your desire to argue with the reality she creates begins to die. You cling to her words like a lifeline, because who else but her will be there when everything falls apart?

You no longer want to resist, because resistance means being completely alone. And being alone means disappearing.

And now you are her little two. The one who belongs to her, who lives in her shadow and breathes to her rhythm. And even if a faint glimmer of your former self remains deep in your soul, it drowns in this incessant whisper:

"Only I need you. No one else needs you."

And this has become your eternal prayer.

"What's that?"

You looked down at your lap. There lay a book you had found by chance while cleaning. The house was getting colder and lonelier, especially when Caitlyn left for long shifts. You thought reading would help distract you.

"Just a novel," you whispered, feeling your voice tremble. "I got bored."

She approached, and there was no anger in her gaze, only weary cruelty, as if you had once again failed to meet her expectations.

"Are you bored with me?"

Your breath caught, the words slipping out in a mistake you would pay dearly for. Caitlyn stood almost close enough to touch, her cold presence squeezing you like a steel grip.

"I'm leaving for twelve hours. I kill for order. And you… are you bored here?"

You wanted to crawl back, but the back of the sofa behind you prevented you from doing so.

"I'm sorry," you breathed, already knowing it would lead nowhere.

"You're always apologizing. You know who else apologizes? Weaklings."

She grabbed the book with the force of someone tearing off a bandage, without pity, and threw it against the wall so that the pages scattered like feathers.

"I feed you, clothe you, keep you warm, while outside people are killing each other for crumbs of bread. I pulled you out of that filth, out of that city where you would have died at the first intersection if it weren't for me."

She leaned toward you and grabbed your chin sharply, forcing you to look up.

"And you really think you have the right to be bored?"

You wanted to argue, to say, "I was just reading," but your mouth was dry and the words stuck in your throat.

"Look at yourself," she hissed in your face. "Pathetic, scared, shaking like a rabbit. Do you really believe that anyone but me cares about you?"

You shook your head.

"That's a good girl," she said, as if it were a reward.

Caitlyn kissed you on the temple almost tenderly, but that kiss concealed the same power that had recently torn your soul apart.

"I love you, you know that," her voice became quieter and lost its former sharpness, "but when you disappoint me… I can't control my anger."

Over time, fear and anxiety began to recede, but not disappear. Rather, they hid somewhere deep inside, like animals huddled in a warm burrow.

In their place, habit took hold. The day consisted of repetitive gestures: the creak of the front door lock at exactly seven in the evening; the muffled rustle of a coat; heavy breathing before Caitlyn shook the city cold off her shoulders. You met her at the doorframe with an almost smile.

The skin of your palms remembered the roughness of wet fabric, shoulders, a tiny tremor under a uniform that smelled of gun oil. She let you help her, let you take off her gloves, touched your cheek with her fingers as a sign of her presence. And in that moment, the house became the center of the world, the only safe island amid the strange, wind-swept streets.

You learned to read her pauses. If her footsteps were heavy, you poured strong tea; if they glided almost silently, you made a decoction of oregano and mint.

Those evenings flowed smoothly, almost sleepily. She talked about the patrols in fragments: "two detained," "smuggling at the locks again." You just nodded. With each "yes" and "I understand," a strange calm grew inside you: if the world out there was really that cruel, then here, in the flickering circle of the lamp, you were on the right side of the glass.

The warmth from the lamp faded as you finally sat down to dinner. The dark oak table, the blanket on your shoulders, not a sound from the neighboring rooms. Caitlyn ate slowly, as if each movement marked the last breath of the day.

But today something was changing, and you sensed it before you heard it.

Caitlyn put down her fork and turned her palm toward you. There was so much confidence in this movement that the air around you immediately became denser.

You didn't know the words yet, but you could already feel their weight.

Seconds dragged on as a dull, muffled bell rang in your head. And when she spoke, the words fell into the silence without a splash, but the water beneath them cracked.

She wants a child.

The sound of these three words, barely whispered, was louder than any command. The world around her shifted, as if the house had suddenly tilted and the walls had cracked.

Your "no" didn't even have time to take shape. It was just a fleeting spark before it was extinguished in the darkness of her unshakable will. Inside, under her ribs, an invisible bird fluttered, but the cry stuck in her throat: a flat fear of returning to what had been before, to the cold streets, to the loneliness that had long since become more frightening than any loss.

You felt your hands trembling, even though they were resting on your knees, hidden under the fabric of your skirt. Images flashed through your mind: a child's cry, a small hand, the warm smell of milk, but next to them, in the same frame, stood her, tall, inevitable, with the same gaze that holds your world together.

You weren't ready. The word drifted away from your consciousness like a boat from a pier, farther and farther, until it turned into a tiny dot. And the tighter you hugged that dot, the more clearly you felt it melting away.

She rose from the table and leaned close to your ear. The tenderness of her breath burned your skin more intensely than a scream.

The stability you had grown so accustomed to cracked, and the crack spread across the walls of the house, across the edges of your heart, across the secret boundary where you end and her will begins. But the voice inside fell silent again: if ruins are the price of her love, then you will let the walls fall.

[mammons-lover]

Good Morning RAD!

Diavolo (over the morning announcements): Good morning, everyone! I hope you're all having a pleasant start to the day. Today at lunch, some Devi Scouts will be stopping by to sell cookies, so be sure to be nice to them. Also, we have Satan and Mammon here to apologize for... the incident in the lab yesterday.

Satan (grabbing the mic): Good morning, demons of RAD. I just want to say, I deeply apologize... that you're all a bunch of weaklings! Honestly, what kind of demon can't handle a tiny explosion?

Mammon (yelling from the back): Yeah! It was a science class for crying out loud! Stop being such wimps and grow a pair!

Lucifer (trying to pull Satan away): Satan, that’s enough—

Satan (clutching the table): And to whoever ratted out Beel for eating the teacher’s lunch, Mammon and I are coming for you after school!

Mammon: Yeah, you made my baby brother get punished! We’re not lettin’ that slide!

Satan (as Lucifer drags him away): You can all burn in hell! Oh wait, you’re already there, you pathetic losers!

Diavolo (long pause): Well... that went well.

Lucifer: Diavolo, I think it’s safe to say... no more public apologies.

Diavolo: Agreed. I was so sure they'd behave this time, too. So sure...

Lucifer (sighing): I should’ve known better.

[the-most-humble-blog]

🛡️ WHEN LOIS MADE A GOD KNEEL — The Simping of Superman A Blacksite Literature™ Breakdown of Superman II, Male Frame Loss, and the Weaponization of Female Approval

---

It starts with a cape and ends with a crawl. Superman II isn’t just a movie about three intergalactic tyrants trying to take over Earth. It’s a film about what happens when a god gives up his sovereignty to please a woman who never respected the man — only the mask.

And that’s where we begin.

🧠 THE FIRST RED FLAG? SHE NEVER LIKED CLARK.

Let’s get one thing straight: Lois never “fell” for Clark. She investigated him. Suspected him. Tested him.

And why? Because the dorky journalist with minimum-wage energy and awkward posture couldn’t possibly be enough to satisfy her arousal profile.

She didn’t stumble onto his identity. She chased it — and not out of love, but infatuation with power.

“Clark, you seem… different.”

Yeah, because the real man is hidden behind the costume of the weakling she’d never f*ck.

🎯 NIAGARA FALLS: WHERE “NERDY CHAD” STARTS TO LOOK GOOD

Lois throws herself off a railing. She literally risks death — because she’s so sure Clark is Superman. That’s not romance. That’s a test.

And what does he do? He saves her covertly. Classic.

But that’s not the part that should’ve sent warning bells ringing. It’s the moment when, while cleaning in the hotel room, she suddenly starts to see him.

Why?

Because Clark starts leaking power.

Posture shifts. Cadence cracks. She smells something off-brand — and in women, that always means on-brand arousal.

This wasn’t about “love.” This was about the Chad math checking out.

---

---

🔥 THE FIREPLACE: THE MOMENT HE F*CKED HIMSELF

He trips. He lands in a literal fire. Doesn’t burn. Doesn’t flinch.

She stares.

He stands up like nothing happened.

And instead of holding frame?

Instead of saying “Keep guessing, Lois.”

He says:

“F*ck it, you nosey broad. Happy now?”

And just like that? The fall begins.

💀 THE GHOST DAD SAID NO — BUT SIMP ENERGY PREVAILED

We get to the Fortress of Solitude. We see Kryptonian ancestors — literal cosmic hologram royalty — tell him not to do it.

“You give up your powers… you will never get them back.”

But what does Kal-El do?

He listens to the emotional pull of a woman who loved the god, not the man.

He surrenders his power. Not for justice. Not for peace. Not for purpose.

For Lois. The same woman who never kissed Clark Kent until she realized he wasn’t Clark Kent.

Let that sink in.

🧤 DE-POWERED AND DISRESPECTED IN A BAR BY A TRUCKER

Now he’s human. Now he’s “equal.” Now he’s vulnerable.

How romantic, right?

Until he goes into a diner and gets his ass handed to him by a truck driver named “Rock” who calls Lois ‘sweetheart’ and backhands him into a pinball machine.

You know what’s worse than losing a bar fight?

Losing one when the woman you gave your powers up for is watching.

He bled in front of her. He got stomped. She comforted him.

But deep down?

Her nervous system disconnected that day. She knew the god was gone.

🧊 THE WALK OF SHAME TO THE FORTRESS — NORTH POLE EDITION

He limps. Literally limps back into the frozen tundra. Bare-handed. Broken. Human. Defeated.

He walks back to apologize to the ghosts of his ancestors for letting pssy override destiny.*

Because meanwhile?

Zod, Ursa, and Non — literal cosmic fascists — just walked through the White House like it was a DMV.

They made the President kneel. They were broadcasting world conquest in real-time. And where was Superman?

On his “I think I made a mistake” arc.

😈 ZOD DIDN’T WIN. LOIS DID.

Zod may have conquered the White House. But Lois conquered the soul. And in many ways? That’s worse.

Because Superman didn’t get manipulated by force. He gave it away with open consent. He chose softness. He chose mortal love over immortal legacy.

And in doing so?

He betrayed the divine archetype of masculine frame — for validation.

👁️ SUPERMAN IS THE MAN. CLARK IS THE MASK.

That’s what Lois never understood. She thought Clark was the “real him.” She thought she was peeling back layers to find authenticity.

No.

Superman is the core. Clark is the containment suit.

Superman is who Kal-El is when he isn’t hiding for your comfort. Clark is what he wears to be acceptable to a species that doesn’t deserve him.

And Lois?

She didn’t fall for the man. She fell for the illusion of taming the man.

🩸 THE LESSON? NEVER LOSE YOUR FRAME FOR LOVE.

He was warned. He ignored it.

He walked into a chamber that removed his genetic dominance. For romance.

He hollowed out the legacy of an alien god king so he could lay in a bed next to someone who only touched him once he could fly.

And the punchline?

The moment he got his powers back? She couldn’t keep him.

🕯️ BECAUSE HERE’S THE UNSEEN TRUTH:

Lois never loved Kal-El. She lusted for Superman. She tolerated Clark. She thought she could make them merge.

But when Clark folded, when Superman gave up his heritage?

She got what she wanted. And it wasn’t what she needed.

And that’s the story of 80% of modern relationships.

🧠 SUPERMAN II IS A CAUTIONARY TALE. NOT A LOVE STORY.

It’s a myth.

A reverse Hercules. A power-to-pleasure downgrade wrapped in red tights.

And what’s worse?

It ends with a magical kiss that erases her memory.

Which means even the screenwriters knew:

No woman could respect a man who gave up godhood for her insecurity.

💣 TL;DR:

Lois never loved Clark.

She loved the status of proximity to Superman.

He gave up his powers for her.

Got bodied.

Came crawling back.

Fixed the world.

Erased her memory so she wouldn’t remember how hard he simped.

And people call that romantic.

No. That’s propaganda. That’s emasculation with a cape. That’s frame loss with special effects.

---

🔥 CALL TO ACTION (CTA):

🛑 Reblog if you’ve ever watched a man surrender power to please someone who never wanted him weak 🧬 Save this if you’ve ever lost something sacred trying to be “enough” 🛡️ Follow @the-most-humble-blog for Blacksite Literature™ posts that turn pop culture into fireproof masculinity blueprints

This is Blacksite Literature™ — Not fandom. Not review. Just the scrolltrap gospel of men who won’t lose their frame again.

[coveofsecrets]

the platonic burning spice x child reader fiction WAS SO GOOD. maybe you could do a part 2 pls? you don't have to! 🤍

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

"𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗"

-> Platonic! Burning Spice Cookie x reader

-> Warnings: Spoilers for Beast Yeast chapter 6, mentions of major character death, mentions of death

-> Word count: 966

-> waaaahahahahhaaa thank youuuuu <<33!! Not gonna lie, this was super challenging to do! Figuring out what Burning Spice would do as a character, and also his dialogue, was super difficult, but really fun! I hope you enjoy, Anon! This fic is a direct part two to this, so to understand this fic, please read the other one!

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Whispers in cracked corridors.

Rumors within dusty floors.

Stories spun along the breeze.

“Have you heard about the child Lord Destroyer’s been keeping?” Purple tail swaying, brushing against the owner’s fur.

“Yes…” Tongue flickering between fangs. “I have, but nobody’s allowed to see them, not even the general.”

“Well, I’ve seen the thing once, through the crack of their room door.”

“Really? What did they look like?”

“Weak.” A grunt. “Puny. If not protected, they would not survive even a second in this land.”

“Impossible! Why would The Great Destroyer allow a weak thing in his temple? There must be something about that child, if he's keeping it.”

“That’s what I’m thinking, too! Our lord prohibits any sort of interaction with that weakling, keeping them barred in there like a princess, so why does he have something like that?”

“Hmph. I’m not sure. Possibly untapped potential?”

“Plausible, but Lord Destroyer is not the kind of beast to recruit somebody for that…”

Red paws tapping against the floor, followed by a bark, “Are you two questioning Our Lord’s choices?”

The two squeak, “G- General-!” 

“You both,” The Nutmeg Tiger growls, “I will not hear another word from either of you. The Great Destroyer’s thinking is something both of you cannot possibly comprehend, and for you to even try and grasp it is almost laughable. This could very well go for treason!”

“General, we weren’t meaning to go for treason-”

“Do not speak when you are spoken to, weakling!”

Purple mouth snaps shut, red eyes narrowing in almost defiance.

The tiger centaur pays no mind to it, instead choosing to continue. “Whatever Our Lord is doing, surely has reason behind it. I will not stand for you two questioning his divine plans. Is that clear?”

“Yes....” This time, the Cilantro Cobra speaks. “Our… apologies, general. We won’t do this next time…”

“Hmph.” A huff, “I hope you don’t. The Great Destroyer’s ideas are much greater than you lowlives.”

Burning Spice has no idea what he’s doing.

He should’ve killed you.

He should’ve crumbled your existence.

He should’ve laid waste to your form like he did before, once again leaving behind what he loved.

Yet, with his paranshu raised above his head, your eyes fearfully staring at the bright thing…

“Baba, baba!” 

He remembers those same eyes looking up at him, as if he had hung up the stars themselves; your sweet voice calling for him as your bare feet violently pad over to reach their father.

God.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t do it.

Burning Spice couldn’t kill his child.

No matter how much he wanted to, his body could not follow his command.

So what does he do now?

Burning Spice cannot kill you, so perhaps he could kick you out of here?

No, the spice storms will tear you apart.

If he lets you wander, his troops will reave your being.

Why does he care so much?!

His head has this horrible ache from all this thinking, so to make the confusing part of his brain happy, and to make this pain disappear, he sends you away.

To be more specific, he locks you in a room to which only a few cooks can come in to place food far away from you. Now, some part of him will be content, and also, he can stop looking at your pathetic self.

It takes months before he’s able to face you again.

Months before the Beast has to stop facing the present, and turn back to the past.

“Child.” Water hitting the sandy floors, he speaks. “Are you bored?”

…huh?

Sitting in front of this unfamiliar man, to the question, you pause.

Months of being held captive, with nobody except your own thoughts to keep you company, and when your captor speaks to you, it’s… this?

“Excuse?” You cannot help but ask for clarification, wondering if somehow you misheard.

To your question, though, the Beast’s eyes twitch. “I asked-” The sand starting to dry out- “if you are bored, child.”

Bored?

You heard right, which… only confuses you further.

“I am… confused on what you mean?”

“Do you need entertainment?” The desert is no longer blessed by the gentle touch of the rain, but it is not angry. “I presume that sitting in a room with nothing but your thoughts to occupy yourself is boring.”

Why is he asking that?

If you need entertainment?

What’s his goal?

You decide to echo your thoughts: “Why… are you asking that-?”

Only to be met with a scowl, lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth, the yellow things glinting off of the little light in the room. His eyes are narrowed, lashes blanketing red irises, barely concealing his fury. Soon, though, as if he saw something in your face, the creature forces his expression to flatten, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I would prefer-” he growls after a few seconds. “To not answer that question. All you need to know is if you’re bored. Is that clear?”

…huh… best not to press.

“Good. Now, answer my question: are you bored or not?”

“I… guess so, yes.”

Being stuck in a room for months on end, with nothing to do is not… fun, at all.

“Then what entertainment do you wish for?”

Entertainment?

You blink.

What entertainment is there? Actually, why is he asking if I must be entertained? Mm… I feel like I shouldn’t ask that.

“Conversation with you?” You eventually request, “I’d like to ask a few questions as to where I am.”

The beast’s nostrils flare, a corner of his lips twitching, but he acquiesces. “Alright. But if there is anything I do not wish to divulge, I shall not. Is that fair?”

Huh.

How easy.

Once again, you nod.

He's not being violent in me towards any way, and he hasn't made me do anything... if so, then why's he keeping me here against my will?

What does he want from you?

[moonselune]

How would Astarion, Gale, Lae'zel and Karlach (separately) react if they witnessed someone random insulting Tav and her only ignoring the offender? As if, no comeback, no fight, just 100% pretending not to hear anything.

Hehehe we love some protectiveness from our dearies don't we?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The marketplace was alive with activity, the sounds of vendors shouting their wares and children laughing as they ran through the stalls. You and Karlach strolled through the bustling crowd, her large frame a comforting presence by your side as she slung an arm around your shoulders. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the scene.

As you admired a display of colorful fabrics, a gruff voice cut through the pleasant atmosphere. "Look at her, thinking she belongs here. Pathetic."

You felt a flush of embarrassment but chose to ignore the insult, keeping your attention on the fabrics. Karlach, however, immediately bristled, her temper flaring up.

"Oi!" she barked, her voice commanding and loud enough to make several heads turn. "You got a problem with her?"

The offender, a scruffy-looking man with a sneer on his face, shrugged nonchalantly. "Just calling it like I see it."

Karlach stepped forward, her eyes blazing with anger. "And what you should see is a beautiful woman who has more strength in her little finger than you do in your entire body," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. "Buddy, you don't know who you're dealing with."

The man took a step back, intimidated by Karlach's fierce demeanor and the flames flickering from her skin.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he muttered, suddenly looking very small.

"Apologize," Karlach demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, her muscles bulging. You couldn't help but smile at her.

The man mumbled a quick apology before scurrying away, his tail between his legs. Karlach turned back to you, her expression softening as she saw the tension in your shoulders.

"You okay, love?" she asked, her voice gentle now.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thank you, Karlach. You didn't have to do that."

She grinned, wrapping an arm back around your shoulders and pulling you close. "Of course I did. No one gets to talk to my girl like that."

You leaned into her, feeling a rush of warmth and gratitude. "I'm lucky to have you."

"Damn right you are," she replied with a wink. "Now, let's get you something nice. I think you deserve a treat after that nonsense."

��── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The training grounds were buzzing with the sounds of warriors honing their skills, metal clashing against metal, and the grunts of exertion filling the air. You and Lae'zel were making your way through the camp, her presence a beacon of strength and determination. You walked beside her, your head held high despite the stern glares of the githyanki warriors around you.

As you passed a particularly burly githyanki soldier, he spat out a venomous insult, his voice dripping with disdain. "Look at her, pretending to be a warrior. She's nothing but a weakling."

You felt the sting of his words but chose to ignore him, your gaze fixed straight ahead. Lae'zel, however, stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing as she turned to face the offender.

"Repeat that," she demanded, her voice a low, dangerous growl.

The soldier sneered, clearly not intimidated. "You heard me. She's nothing."

Lae'zel's hand moved to the hilt of her sword, her posture radiating lethal intent. "You dare insult one under my protection? You question my judgment?" Her voice was like ice, each word cutting through the air.

The soldier faltered, realizing too late the gravity of his mistake. "I-I didn't mean—"

"You will apologize," Lae'zel interrupted, her eyes blazing with fury. "Or I will make an example of you."

The soldier, now visibly shaken, muttered a hasty apology, his bravado evaporating under Lae'zel's fierce glare. Satisfied, she turned back to you, her expression softening slightly. You offered her a shy smile in response.

"You should not have to endure such disrespect," she said, her voice still tinged with anger. "Do not think that ignoring them means you are weak. You have more strength than they could ever understand."

You nodded, appreciating her fierce protection. "Thank you, Lae'zel."

She placed a hand on your shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. "Come. We have training to do."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The evening sun bathed the city streets in a warm, golden light as you and Gale made your way through the bustling crowds. The smell of fresh bread and spices filled the air, and the chatter of people enjoying the end of the day created a lively atmosphere. Gale walked beside you, his hand occasionally brushing against yours, his eyes bright with the simple joy of your company.

As you passed a group of townsfolk, one of them, a burly man with a sneer permanently etched on his face, called out, "Look at her, all dressed up like she thinks she's something special. Pathetic."

You felt the brunt of the words hitting your insecurities but you chose to ignore them, focusing instead on a nearby stall displaying the most beautiful tapestries. Gale, however, immediately noticed the insult and the way you pretended not to hear it. His expression darkened, and he turned to face the offender, his posture tense but controlled.

"Excuse me," Gale began, his voice calm but laced with an edge. "I believe an apology is in order."

The man looked taken aback, his sneer faltering as he met Gale's intense gaze. "What? I didn't say anything to you."

"No, but you insulted her," Gale replied, his tone unyielding. "And that is unacceptable."

The man glanced at you, then back at Gale, clearly considering his options. Gale took a step closer, his presence commanding and his eyes blazing with quiet fury. His hands crackling with untamed magic. "Apologize. Now."

The man muttered something under his breath, barely audible, before turning away and disappearing into the crowd. Gale watched him go, his jaw clenched, before turning back to you.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, his hand finding yours and raising it to his lips, giving it a small peck

"I'm fine, Gale. Thank you." You chuckle, you quite liked this side of Gale, but you couldn't give that away so easily, not if you wanted to experience the fullness of this side of your lover.

He sighed, his expression softening. "I can't stand by and let anyone treat you that way," he said, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You deserve better than their petty insults."

You leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I know. And I appreciate you standing up for me."

Gale smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist as the two of you continued your walk.

"Always," he promised, his tone warm and loving. You couldn't help but notice the way the tips of his fingers pressed to you so forcefully and it made you smile. Oh yes, this would have to happen more often.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The bustling market was alive with the sounds of merchants hawking their wares and customers haggling over prices. You and Astarion strolled through the crowd, his arm casually draped over your shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips as he whispered witty remarks about the various stalls and their goods.

You stopped to admire a table of finely crafted jewelry, a stranger's voice cut through the din, sharp and disdainful.

"Look at her, the harlot," the woman sneered, her words dripping with contempt. "As if she doesn't get enough gifts from her gentleman callers."

You stiffened slightly but chose to ignore the insult, your gaze remaining fixed on the jewelry, it was rather beautiful. Astarion's arm tightened around you, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the offender. He could feel the tension in your body and the effort it took to ignore the woman's words.Astarion stepped forward, placing himself between you and the stranger.

"Excuse me?" he said, his voice dangerously calm. "Care to repeat that?"

The woman faltered, taken aback by Astarion's sudden challenge. "Oh, I-I just said—"

"I heard what you said, hag" Astarion interrupted, his tone icy. "But I think you should reconsider your choice of words."

The woman's bravado crumbled under Astarion's piercing gaze. He took a step back, muttering something unintelligible before scurrying away. Astarion watched him go, his expression one of cold satisfaction.

Turning back to you, Astarion's demeanor softened. "Are you all right, my darling?" he cooed, gently cupping your face.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thank you, dearest But you know you didn't have to."

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Of course I did," he murmured. "Now I believe in fairytales such valiance is rewarded with a kiss."

You sighed and rolled your eyes, pulling him in for a kiss by the lapels of his jacket, knowing that the woman was watching you. Perhaps that's why you chose to deepen the kiss, putting on a show for her. She clearly needed something in her life.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope y'all enjoyed it - Seluney xox

[strawberrymochin]

𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐬

Weakling

Apology gift

Loverboy!satoru

Nipple sucker

Collegeboy!gojo

Academic rival! Satoru

Skipping work

Satosugu threesome

Smooches

Switch!yuta

boner

Boyfriend!geto

© strawberrymochin 24 | please don't plagiarize my work |

[suguru-getos]

Yandere Sukuna Hcs:

Warnings: Oh this whole post is a warning in itself LOL, Sukuna and also yandere- lots of NSFW, nonc0n, g0re, belittling. Read at your own discretion. I REPEAT, read at your own discretion this post isn't for everyone I went overboard.

King of curses and absolutely devoid of any sympathy at all, all he has is obsession towards you, catering and harboring to his every need. Once Sukuna manifests in his true form, he is unstoppable. You were among the few humans he wanted to fuck around with and then eat them, however- he took a special liking to you. It's just because out of all of them, you looked the prettiest when you were scared out of your wits. He calls you his slut, toy, plaything, weakling, meat. It's simple really, you don't get to wear any clothes around, you want to see what happens to people who disobey him? Of course not- as humiliating as it is, someone like Sukuna does not care and would want you to answer his every beck and call with that naked body.

You are not allowed to have a life/a purpose except to be the King of Curses' little toy. There are days he wants you to kneel in front of him, struggling as he warms your mouth, and iterates his stories from thousands of years back. Sukuna likes to talk after all. Looking down at you with a smirk when you nastily drool from down there. You won't get to cum, no use thinking about it.

Any/everyone who wanted to search for you was killed in front of you, you had no family, so the Sorcerer friends who wanted to find you were killed. Sukuna hung their heads for you to see every time you walk towards the entrance of the door. Just in case his beloved/slightly liked toy wants to escape.

Over a period of time Sukuna stops eating humans in front of you, something which annoyed him to the brim that he wanted you to not be repulsed and scream cry when he devours them alive. He can be sympathetic but would never express it. Weakness as such aren't allowed.

Walking around always naked would get some rude/crass comments from him, he doesn't want you to go to a salon to get waxed of course, but he would call you filthy for not being clean down there, pinching your clit and scratching it with his nail while you squirm and mumble apologies.

Sukuna is huge, and is manhandly, the way his two hands spread you apart in thin air, like a cross and fuck you, inflating you when his seed fills you until you scream, leaking out and inflated. Sukuna doesn't like it going to waste so you better believe he will turn you upside down, hanging for hours just to check the possibility of you somehow being bred.

Sukuna can be kind enough to let you eat whatever you want, on cases where you starve yourself, he will threaten you to feed human meat. You can't possibly test him because he just might. He also has this sick, devotion that his breedable fleshlight should be healthy. No restrictions on the quality of food.

Consent? Lol, you should be grateful he's letting you live. Though over a period of time he loves it when you turn extra possessive over him fucking other women. When he needs to show you his place, he would fuck them in front of you and then kill them, asking you if you liked how they orgasmed over and over until they threw up?

Sukuna can and will use collars on you, loves calling you his pet and would make sure you behave like one. Tamed and cute. The tongue on his belly would fuck you senseless on days when he wants to see you pleasured, other one playing with your tits until you sob and cry, unable to take it anymore.

Spankings are his thing, however, he caused you some visceral damage once he did it and he still has problems with how fragile you are despite being a sorcerer, so his preys - get the order to spank his little slut. "If you do a good job, your death would be painless." Oh boy they do. Ever since then, Sukuna can't tolerate you without a bruised ass. He also learned the exact strength on which to deliver spankings so you 'always' leave a little hiss when you sit down. Loves that, and calls you "Marked up so you know your purpose."

Sukuna who can sometimes be groggy and scoff when you come waddling to him, screaming about the horror of the nightmares of his actions. Ironical, how you have no option but to run to him for comfort and would let you sleep with him. Condition is: You will have to repay his kindness. Sometimes he pretends he forgot it just to go easy on you, sometimes he uses it to his undue advantage.

Sukuna has been mean enough to have fingers of a severed hand tucked into your pussy because you clearly love to call him ruthless. The feeling of something dead pleasuring you while you cry and beg for mercy is all he needs.

Holy fuck I have so many more but I think I have brutalized him enough (He is brutal after all)

[sapphiresaphics]

It’s really telling how many people don’t believe you can have any form of regret, redemption, apology, or forgiveness unless you BEG for it on your hands and knees bawling your eyes out.

Non-verbal love language doesn’t cut it.

Performing acts of service doesn’t cut it.

Physical pain and suffering doesn’t cut it.

Sacrificing your autonomy doesn’t cut it.

No, people need to SEE you suffer and HEAR you beg for your life and CRY out your regrets before they’ll even consider giving you a modicum of empathy.

What fucking superficial weaklings the lot of you are. And yes, this is about Caitlyn.

[craziertogether]

nobody sees will for who he is the way that mike does & vice versa

i want to put out that i don’t think joyce or jonathan or really anyone is ignorant of who will “truly” is. but i think we’re not really recognizing as the audience how much of what we know about will & mike we only get through glimpses of other characters in the show. joyce shows the audience that will is shy, alone, and almost “weak”. jonathan tells us that will is basically queer, an outcast, feels like an imposter in his own life. lucas and dustin show us that will can be kind of in his own world, his own head, but a good friend nonetheless. it’s interesting how we only see will for how truly kind and emotional will can be. of course we see this with joyce and other significant figures in will’s life and yet, only in the most private intimate conversations shared between mike & will, do we see that will is a good listener, he’s not high strung or a wimp like everyone makes him out to be (even subconsciously with characters like hopper and owens). will is kind, he can be harsh and yet he’s so raw and honest with mike it’s almost embarrassing to watch how he pulls himself out of his shell, to make mike see him. AND MIKE DOES. mike saw will for who he was on halloween night. a survivor, not a victim. mike saw will that day in the garage, he saw the person will had been for him, he saw will’s emotions, but more importantly he saw what his actions were doing to will. (though we’re robbed and we never see mike show it). it all feels so repetitive in season 4, yet another fight, “oh no mike is insensitive” “oh wow will is too self centered”. WRONG. this fight sets an entirely new precedent. mike is finally able to do what he never had the chance to do last year, he apologizes to will. he sees what will needs, he gives it TO will. he doesn’t do it for el, for anyone else. arrogant mike apologizes to the weak hearted will.

now here’s where it gets reciprocated. will also sees mike. there’s a reason will confided in mike in s2 and no one else on halloween night. it’s not like none of his other friends care. it’s not like they didn’t also run around searching for will when his episode began. and it’s especially not because they didn’t WANT to help him. it’s because in that moment, mike saw that what will needed was someone who could actually stay with him and mike became that. in turn, will knew he could reciprocate that level of trust. he saw the bounds of their relationship, he saw the protector image that mike covers himself with, and will allowed mike to be that for him. (i’m not insulting that will needs any sort of protector btw). season 3, will saw what mike was becoming, what he was doing, what he was hiding. yet he never attacks mike directly or even intentionally about his cover. instead, he attacks mike directly for something else, he attacks mike’s character. and yet he strangely never crosses a boundary, more specifically not in a way that mike wouldn’t be able to come back from. will’s digs are harsh yet they’re too true to be ignored. he sees mike’s flaws and he tells them to him, yes the rain breakup is bad but it’s too raw to not notice how deep their relationship is and how much they manage to see through the other. after emotions take control of mike and he blurts out his famous line. he sees his effect in will’s face, it’s not the first time he’s hurt someone with his actions and words. mike’s arrogant and bratty , yet mike saw will. again, he saw and knew exactly what he needed to do, after a whole half season complaining about not knowing what to do for his gf he suddenly knows. it’s also not like mike hasn’t fought with friends before. it’s just different with will, because he knows and he sees will for what he is, not a sensitive weakling but someone who needs to be heard and seen for himself outside of his emotions and trauma. it’s why when they fight again in season 4, it feels different. this time mike knows instantly what to do, a very clear parallel to the past, and yet this time he actually gets the chance to apologize. will acts nonchalant, like he didn’t even care whether or not their friendship was recovered, if the fight was resolved, if an apology was heard. and yet mike delivers for will. mike tells him he didn’t need to say it, he tells him that he was the idiot. he sees what will needed and he delivers.

season 4 is filled with them seeing each other in so many small ways. will saw from how mike got off that plane, how different mike was dressed, a recycling of season 3 and his attempt to cover up. it’s why will doesn’t force anything, why he sits there and takes the shitty treatment on his own birthday. he’s protecting mike. he does it for ss long as he can. and when he finally cant and their fight breaks out in rink-o-mania, it’s again a fight about character. never a fight about sexuality or personal matters. he sees mike’s character about all else and he knows just want to say to make mike see it too. to see that he’s becoming someone else. it’s the same way that will sees mike’s worries about el and tells jonathan to let them stay home instead of going to see the movie. he sees where mike needs help and he delivers. it’s why when mike sees through will’s nonchalant facade, will immediately reciprocates by bringing the painting. it’s so random and yet so significant. mike’s words brought will back to the point that he wants to help mike out too, because mike needs will a little bit more right now, even though will absolutely needs mike too. will never makes it about himself, he sees mike’s needs and he delivers. mike sees will crying in that van, he just knows not to ask, he knows it’s not a private moment for them, but he also knows that by appreciating and taking will’s words to heart, he can reciprocate the actions done for him. it’s why their final scene together in the cabin. will AGAIN sees mike’s worry for el and is the first to speak about it. although there is definitely clouded judgement on will’s ability to see mike clearly because he’s trying to play good friend and brother, nobody sees mike’s struggle like will. and when will expresses how scared he is about feeling vecna back in hawkins. mike (still scared and still losing the battle to internalized homophobia BADLY) sees will, more than his fears, he sees that what will needs is to be brought back to reality. he reaches out to will, holding him and reminding him that things will be okay. he could’ve said those words and left it there but he didn’t. why? because mike knows that what will needs just that little bit more.

whole lotta yap js to say that byler is SO endgame. happy almost byler day, maybe season 5 get here sooner!