#hes so fucked up <3< /div>
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single pea on a plate
#im soooo not completely happy with this#but i had to because OUGH#hes so fucked up <3#welcome home#welcome home fanart#eddie dear#eddie dear fanart#art tag :p#cw: gore#tw gore#gore#tw organs#organs
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Only just thought about this guy while rewatching ep 7 of Fionna and cake and quickly made this so i didn't forget, i'mma draw more of him later
Adding them to my random alternate Ferns basket, i have like 7, They are just so fun to make help
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#fern#fern the human#fern mertens#adventure time#fionna and cake#hes so fucked up <3#Vampire Fern#vampire au
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ttrpg stuff
Woo i drew lookit that (i am working on homestuck art trust)
#Contorting at your say#my art#my oc#Maridras#Hes my silly#Hes so fucked up <3#Burnt Letters to the Public
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TW: Wolverine Badonkas
I laughed rewatching because like
#wade you clearly wouldn't turn down fucking him if the offer ever came up#you're just as down horrendous as these tva agents#who btw must enjoy their employment extra much from that point on#nonchalant motherfucker who openly ogled Logan's abs not five minutes ago#wade honey it's ok flirt with that old man#do it for the nation#do it for the audience#gif credits to owner#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool#deadpool 3#deadpool 2024#wolverine#ryan reynolds#hugh jackman#logan howlett#wade wilson#poolverine#deadclaws#AND LOGAN DOESN'T EVEN REACT TO THE INSULT#domesticated cat no longer blinks when insulted#did they reach that much of an understanding with each other that logan knows wade doesn't mean it#either that or logan genuinely does not give a fuck what wade thinks of his body#either or lol#“Alright 🙄 put 😠 your 🫵greasy tits🫠 away 🤦you🫵 preening🦚 slut💅”#like he's so SICK of Logan's rizz#in a domesticated intimately gay “goddamnit I KNOW same babygirls but like can we fOCUS”#gif credits to landoslastnerve#landoslastnerve
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Danny is "in denial" about the Waynes being vigilantes
Danny is really grateful for the Waynes taking him in and all but it’s just… it’s really obvious they’re vigilantes. Do they WANT him to find out? Why?? To join their battalion?
Hell nah. He’s already got enough going on trying to keep in check the many shades in the city.
Danny simply pretends to be oblivious about the Waynes being vigilantes. That's a future Danny problem.
It turns into Kyle levels of denial, where he ends up pretending he thinks the vigilantes are actors hired by the city to cover up all the ghosts haunting Gotham.
And obviously, the city bases them on the infamously growing Wayne family. It's so sweet of the Waynes to volunteer to dress up as their character for public appearances.
Meanwhile, Bruce has banned outright telling Danny even though it's been nearly a year of him living with them. So what if Danny glows sometimes and has full conversations with invisible people in dark alleyways, everyone has their quirks! so, the Batkids have resolved to just "accidentally" leave their mask on after patrol or make tactical plans loudly about taking down Penguin's latest scheme with Danny a room over.
-
“Is Dick coming to the Gala?” Danny asked as his head swiveled between his phone and the mirror as he attempted to tie his own tie. How did his mom always make it look so easy?
“No, he is going out as Batman tonight, since Father is unable to.” Damian responded. He may as well be blasé about their identities, seeing as Fenton was obviously both completely aware of their identities and completely in denial.
“Oh, man. Does that mean one of the “rouges” are going to attack the gala?” Danny asked, “It’s probably going to be that Two-face guy, huh? He hasn’t made an appearance in a while and his character arc with “Brucie��� hasn’t made any progress in a while.”
“Nonsense, there is no predicting the mindset of a criminal like Two-face.” Damian ignored Danny’s disbelieving scoff as he maneuvered his newest brother to face him so he could take over the task for him, else they would be standing there all night. “Besides, Drake is in charge of security for the gala and will do an adequate job securing the venue. If you are afraid remain by my side where I can protect you.”
Damian tightened the tie around Danny's neck and stepped back to let Fenton pull his own collar down.
"That's very sweet of you, Dami." Danny reached up a hand and mussed up Damian's newly-gelled hair, garnering a growl and a shove from the boy. "But you should do normal kid things during the gala, like accidentally saying rude things to old ladies, or complaining about how bored you are, and don't forget to prank all the evil billionaires."
...
The “I told you so.” Danny brazenly mouthed to Damian later in the evening from where Two-face held a gun to his head was as infuriating as it was distressing.
—
(Kyle Weston is the fanon brother of Wes Weston (also a fanon character) who’s whole thing is that he believes in conspiracy theories like Wes, but doesn’t believe in ghosts at all to Wes’s frustration.)
#batfam#dc comics#Oops I switched Povs#You guys can suck it up#Does two-face do 50/50 Russian Roulette with his victims?#I feel like he should do that#Just put only 3/6 bullets in their chamber and then spin the barrel thingy#Fuck my whole post#someone write a story about THAT#Danny Phantom#Danny Fenton#Damian Wayne#Dp x DC#Dp x DC Prompt#I actually really like this idea so if you write anything inspired by this you have to tell me so I can read it#Danny fenton & Damian Wayne
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“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHIZUN- oh! He’s asleep… Goodnight Shizun ❤️”
#drivebypainter art#digital art#art#my art#svsss#fanart#shen qingqiu#shen yuan#lou binghe#HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHEN YUANNNN#y’all are fucked up for making his fanon birthday the day he died 💀#anyways he is such a pookie I love him sm#I didn’t even know it was his birthday until i opened tumblr 😔#so oops there#anyways#Binghe put that strawberry blanket on him <3
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favourite moments of bg3 -> (5/?)
#baldurs gate 3#bg3edit#bg3#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#gamediting#dailygaming#gamingedit#the way he goes “yet you chose me” makes me insaneeee#ngl at that point i was like fuck i can NOT choose between gale or sh so whoevers romance scene pops up first ill go with it#and then one night later i got the copy of this dork with an exclamation mark#i wouldnt mind if sh's scene came up first i love her a lot as well and making her into a wlw relationship with my third tav yayy#favebg3edits#myedit#also yeah the gifset is ass unfortunately during this talk he frowned A LOT so it looks like he doesnt speak at all sdfghjk AND#because i play the game with the lowest settings the texture quality is toilet bruv#also something about the shapen tool makes his cheek weird? idk it only happens with colours red brown orange so idk
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uncle ekko
#arcane s2 spoilers#who up act 2ing they arcane#IM COPING#IM DELUSIONAL#theyd be so cute#(delusional)#me: oh boy cant wait for ekko act 2!#(ZERO MINUTES OF SCREENTIME)#its ok act 3 will be all ekko trust#(DELUSIONALLL)#im coping so hard#drew this on my dying macbook#the colors on this screen are very fucked#so they might be rly ugly#forgive me...#i havent drawn ekko since i first watched arcane#i missed you... my son...#im your number one fan#since your BIRTH#(i liked him since i was a kid when he was released to lol)#i remember that day...#i was like 9...#and the login screen for league was the ekko splash art...#i fell in love. PEAK DESIGN!!!#KING!!! KING COME BACK#arcane#arcane s2#arcane season 2#arcane spoilers#arcane season 2 spoilers
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i really don’t think it’s “typical dragon age fandom nonsense” for people to be genuinely upset about the world state choices. combat, level design, art direction, gameplay gimmicks, those have all varied across each dragon age game. the one thing that’s remained constant are nods to our previous choices.
i wasn’t expecting my HoF to come riding in on a griffon, but i can’t find a monument dedicated to warden tabris somewhere around the anderfels? lucanis couldn’t have some lines about the time that one arainai boy was stirring up trouble in antiva city? you’re gonna tell me that making a mage the new divine wouldn’t have some impact on nevarra and antiva? on the anderfels, the supposed most devout militant andrastian nation in thedas? you’re saying nobody in the north is paying attention to who rules orlais or ferelden? come on.
#dragon age#yes i’ve seen john epler’s explanation on only wanting to carry forward choices that they could ‘really do something with.’#and i understand what he’s saying and i’m curious to see how those 3 choices they brought forward will impact the story!!#but i’m still disappointed. and i think telling people why they shouldn’t be disappointed is just gonna make them More disappointed.#also don’t really appreciate dev comments like ‘careful what you wish for with cameos. it just gives us an excuse to find new and horrific#ways to kill your faves teehee 🤭🤭’ like okay???????? what???#alistair came back twice & could be fine both times. loghain’s inquisition cameo was so meaningful because who the hell expected to see him#again? leliana can straight up die in origins and yall brought her back anyways. like what are we doing out here.#also when i think of ‘typical’ nonsense for this fandom it’s people doxxing each other over fictional character opinions. or what#fictional side your fictional inquistor took in the fictional mage-templar war. or just plain old racism.#NOT ‘damn it’s fucking upsetting that this excited replay i’ve been doing of the previous games and all the recommending i’ve been doing#for new fans to play the other games before veilguard has turned out to be pretty fucking pointless.’#might as well tell someone to watch a let’s play of trespasser and that’s it.#11/26 in a hater mood so i’m turning rbs back on lol. go forth & be petty
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“Icarus.”
it's all about freedom really
Credit goes to An Sifakah for the poem. Enjoy!
Support me on Ko-fi maybe?
#lake's art#happy birthday sabo!#this time actually on time wow#revolutionary sabo#one piece sabo#asl brothers#asl trio#monkey d. luffy#portgas d ace#watch me tag ace even though he barely shows up#one piece comic#one piece#one piece fanart#oh i'll confess. i traced that ship from a screencap#there's no force on earth that can make me draw a whole ass ship sorry#as always I am stupidly proud of exactly 1 (one) page and this time it's the third#but i also just love that part of the poem so i was already biased towards it before i drew it lmao#i had a whole ass explanation for the reasoning behind this comic that i wrote at like. 3 am. but fuck knows what i did with it#i contemplated colors and immediately gave up. hell nah i'm not doing that again
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the dialogue choices in this game should be more diabolical
#i love akechi but i sometimes i wish you could bully him like no matter which dialogue u pick it sounds like ur flirting back w him#“i'm going to be completely honest with you. i've always hated you” why can't u say smt unserious back#like “sorry i have a snatched waist and correct opinions on everything.” or like “ur loss lmao”#hate playing darts with this bitch bc i play on a steamdeck and i don't have a fucking gyroscope so like#it's trying to replicate how the joycons or pro controller would throw AND ITS SUCKS SO BAD#like i just see akechi get a hat trick every single fucking time with three bulls in a row and meanwhile im struggling to line the thing up#and then after u finish he's like “hmm i see. that's an interesting way to play it” WHAT THE FUCK THERES LITERALLY NO STRATEGY HERE SMARTAS#I JUST MISSED. IM NOT STRATEGIZING. THERES NOTHING “INTERESTING” ABOUT IT.#i hate going to penguin snipers so much i hope i can get this stupid game on switch so i can actually rank up akechi's baton pass#and not waste like 1000 yen every night bc i refuse to not let a party member be on rank 3#akechi fuck yourself why can't we play 501 like we do with everyone else. why do u have to make everything abt this stupid rivalry#im gonna kms i hate akeci and i hate darts#persona 5#persona 5 royal#p5#p5r#goro akechi#ren amamiya#akira kurusu#shuake#akeshu#lotus draws
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pro hero deku has a fleshlight of you. it’s off brand hero merch from some shady corner of his city. it had caught him by surprise, he hadn’t been looking for it.
well, izuku hadn’t been looking for a fleshlight with.. you on it. it’s a particularly tasteful design—he blames that, of all things, when he decides to slap some hundred dollar bills on the register and scurries away without making eye contact with anyone.
(that’s how much it cost, right? he might’ve left some over in change. izuku doesn’t really check until after he’s home and his pants have barely even collapsed to his thighs. and your printed tits bounce with every fucking stroke to the hilt, to his balls. izuku can’t tear his eyes off of your stickered, cute little face as he grinds down harder over the toy. humping down into it lets him see you better when he spreads his legs and fucks the well-lubed fleshlight like it really is you, his balls smacking lewdly with the filthy wet sounds. it’s less like he checks, and more like izuku stumbles into the price tag as he’s wiping a fat glob of cum off the god forsaken thing.)
snooping around where he shouldn’t be, katsuki finds it—used, dear god!—and threatens to tell you, their beloved, angel-dearest friend, about it every time deku does something to even mildly piss him off. deku cries :(
#he finds out it’s like $25 but he always pays extra every time he goes?? it’s like an offering. (cleansing a deliciously twisted sin <3)#what fucks him up is that it smells like a cheap copy of your signature scent but it’s so so familiar. just almost right enough that he#pops stiffys when ur nearby randomly at the smell of u#u hug him and he holds you there until katsuki makes him let you go#(not that you wanna be let go of)#izu <3#izuku midoriya smut
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COME REST YOUR BONES NEXT TO ME ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO
synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most.
word count; 4.6k
contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues
a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33
”holy shit!”
the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.
”satoru, it’s too early for this...”
”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes.
your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.
(snowing.)
with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.
satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks.
maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth.
it’s beautiful.
satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded.
all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere.
the first snow of the year.
and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.
there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.
like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.
and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again.
(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.
and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)
high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.
and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling.
a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.
he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.
— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.
satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.
(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)
”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.”
he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.
it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.
so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.
satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.
”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.
”never.”
a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.
a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”
and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.
his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”
his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.
he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face.
when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.
you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips.
hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.
satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.
because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs.
what more could a man want?
”hey, idiots!”
the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.
”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”
”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.
suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there.
(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)
with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.
”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.
then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”
satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”
a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”
a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”
and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”
satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.
despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”
”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.
”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”
satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.
suguru sighs.
”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”
his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.
he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot.
when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.
the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.
(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.
and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)
suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.
when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.
that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.
”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.
satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.”
but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”
a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”
you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”
a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.
and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word.
his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.
and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology.
(i'm sorry, you big baby.)
satoru grins.
you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.
”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”
he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”
”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”
”and don’t play dumb, either.”
a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”
said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown.
and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.
”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”
satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”
you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”
”hmph.”
suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.
and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again.
that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.
this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.
(married.)
sometimes he still can’t believe it.
”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.”
and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.
and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.
your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.
his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.
(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)
and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.
a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.
and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.
”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”
”— you’re disgusting.”
the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.
and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.
you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.
then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?”
”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.
silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.
”… santa can only do so much, baby.”
two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.
”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.”
you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”
”of course not! blasphemy.”
a moment passes.
”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”
a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.
then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow.
he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.
and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.
he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice.
for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?
(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)
— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.
it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.
and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.
warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter.
he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself.
and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest.
he hopes it never goes away.
#genuinely fucked up that suguru geto isnt in my kitchen rn </3#i just think sugu is such a caretaker. makes u breakfast and peels ur satsumas w/o u even asking. bc it makes him happy :’3 hes so Mother#i think he lowkey gets just a little bit uncomfortable when u or gojo try to do the same for him… he likes doting on u#but obv he deserves to be pampered too!! just gotta ease him into it#and i think gojo has a hole in his heart where love should be. bc he wasnt given enough as a child#im not sure what to think when it comes to his parents (since we know literally nothing abt them) but...#the idea of him finding some comfort in the memory of his mom…. maybe not realizing that he misses her…..… i think its very sad. and good.#listened to ricky montgomery while writing this i think it mightve healed me#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x reader#geto x reader#geto x reader x gojo#gojo fluff#geto fluff#satosugu x reader#satosugu x you#satosugu x y/n#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#……… thats… a lot of tags.
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pls dad astarion i beg of you
as much as i really want to i don’t know how much sense it makes, so for now let’s just be unserious
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#astarion#tavstarion#maybe i’ll make some actual art if someone can come up with a VERY good reason why he would agree to it#dorian would be a GREAT dad though#don’t worry as soon as i have a character who gets with gale i’ll dad the fuck out of him#for now they’re the funcles#maybe after a decade of therapy?#i hate that i did this because dorian and the bab are SO cute that i want to continue
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face value
#it's autism torment hours for cloud strife (featuring Projection™️)#everybody just assumes the worst about cloud the moment they meet him.#i think all the time about the 'be nice!' -> 'i'm doing my best :(' thing from remake. like. all he did was answer a fucking question.#it burns because i know EXACTLY what it's like to be on the receiving end of that. 'don't be rude!' i wasn't planning on it but ok i guess?#and people getting mad because they assumed i meant something completely different than what i said.#how many times have i asked 'hey when are we leaving' (so i know when we're leaving. god forbid)#only for them to hear 'WAAA WAAAAAAA HURRY UP!!!!!!! I WANNA LEAVE RIGHT NOWWWWW UGGHHHHHH'#like ???????????#we're speaking the same language right??? RIGHT????????#cloud listen bby. just know that i'm always here for you. even if no one else got ur back.#ok i'm better now. at least until the next easily avoidable stupid misunderstanding#ffvii#cloud strife#my art <3
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the hill that i will die on is that cas would have never said he loved dean if he had to deal with the consequences of it afterwards, meanwhile dean (who was SUPPOSED to tell cas he loved him in the original crypt scene script) would have eventually worked up to saying it without external pressure
#listen#LISTEN#i know there's a bunch of takes out there that basically amount to dean being too emotionally stunted to know what he's feeling#but dean's problem has always been being TOO connected to his emotions and being unable to process that#meanwhile cas our sexy avoidant king and chronic ghoster would rather die than acknowledge something that big#like are we forgetting that cas's big move after fucking everything up was to go insane and basically not deal with the problem#meanwhile dean is trying to have a heart to heart with every family member love interest and pseudo adopted daughter every six seconds#ANYWAY yeah#if cas hadn't have made a deal with the empty and if that deal didn't ultimately conveniently correlate with saving dean's life?#cas wouldn't have said shit#FREAK <3#mean while dean winchester (WHO HAD MORE TO SAY IN PURGATORY!) would have eventually worked his way up to it#and im not saying he'd handle it well bc he'd probably drop it and then be weird about it forever#but he's more likely to be the first to acknowledge it if they weren't being pressured by outside forces#dean studies#cas studies#im so fucking normal about them#dean winchester#castiel
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