#i just pretend that since it isn’t from anyone’s first person then this is simply how they’re seen from the outside but bruhhh why

[modawg]

it actually pisses me off a little bit that reyna made that joke abt percy not being able to find his way out of a paper bag if annabeth wasn’t there and annabeth LAUGHED

my pjo annabeth would never do that are you kidding

your saying the girl who used to hate her blonde hair bc people thought (based off her looks) that she was dumb would be ok with someone doing that to her boyfriend ??

your telling me hubris wise girl chase would date a dumb ass bitch ??

your saying to my face that everytime annabeth has seen percy be super capable and strategic through the first 5 books all got whittled down to that moment ??

nah immediately nah

if it was og annabeth she would’ve given reyna the fattest side eye bc not only is some RANDOM BITCH saying that shit abt her bf but the fact that she said that infront of him ?? NAHHHHHHHH

everyday i’m mad abt what rick did to himbo percy EVERYDAY

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Softer, Softest ♡

♡ Pairing: mafia!boss!san x stripper!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff

♡ Summary: A fun night of stripping takes a turn when an encounter with a particularly unpleasant customer leaves you in tears, running to your boss seeking comfort and protection. Both things he’s more than willing to give.

♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: explores themes of body insecurities, reader has her arm grabbed (nothing violent but brutal violence against the person who grabbed it), mentions of blood/injuries (not yours, babes), kissing, heavy body worship, san’s obsessed with you, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), clit sucking, nipple pinching, a lil manhandling, hair pulling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, low key mirror sex, pet names (baby, pretty).

♡ A/N: Hello my loves, I wrote this little fic for any of my chubby darlings out there who might not know or might need reminding that their bodies are gorgeous, worth loving, and desirable. I also really love myself a hot criminal and who better than San? K, let me shut up now. Just know I love you. Your body’s amazing. Never forget that ❤️

Midnight. Friday. The back alley of a strip club. The best in town. The strip club, not the alley. It’s a dark, starless night. The smell of fresh rain hangs in the air, the aftermath of a sudden downpour that left the ground slick with rain. Music from inside the club bleeds through the cracks of a heavy steel door. A neon red EXIT sign hangs overhead. The door creaks on its hinges as it swings open, sending the music blaring out into the night and with it comes a body. The blur of one at first, flying through the air, and then the weight of it. The heavy thud of bruised flesh and cracked bone colliding with the asphalt. 

The man on the ground is unremarkable, nothing about him worth noting except the mangled nose that gushes blood down his face, leaking into the cavernous gash that is his busted lip. He said the wrong thing to the wrong person and now he can’t speak at all, only mumble. A brushed leather Dolce and Gabbana shoe collides with his cheek. His blood splashes scarlet against the pitch black soles, a horrible crack emitting from his jaw as more pressure’s applied. Now this man? He’s remarkable. He’s muscular, defined in every way so that, even through his black dress shirt, you can read the broadness of his shoulders. His features are sharp and intense. The kind you either fall for or fall victim to. There’s no in between. He’s a handsome devil but a devil all the same. 

“You look like shit” San sighs, effortlessly kicking the man onto his back. He rolls his sleeves up, kneeling beside the man like a hunter inspecting its fallen prey. He stares down at him, emotionless, void of anything close to that thing we call remorse.  

The man heaves in a breath of air before coughing it back out. “Mmm s-s-sorry” he croaks, “I didn’t know she was anyone fucking special.” 

San grips the man’s face, grinning in a way that isn’t the least bit friendly. He squeezes tightly, forcing jagged teeth to press into the soft flesh of the man’s cheeks. “Well now you do.”

This is your boss and you, tucked away safe and warm in his office, are something special. But a part of you knew this already. You downplay it when the other girls point it out. You pretend not to notice the clear signs of favoritism but they’re there in even the smallest interaction between the two of you. Since day one San’s been your protector, your admirer. You’ve denied it a million times, convincing yourself you’re simply making more of things than what’s there. Still, after everything happened you couldn’t fathom running into the arms of anyone else. 

You were dancing like any other night—working your section and getting your tips—when some asshole grabbed you by the arm, demanding your presence in one of the private rooms. Usually you could count on security to drag him out but on weekends the club gets packed and things slip through the cracks. Sadly tonight you were one of them so, like a proper lady, you told him to kiss your ass and sent the tip of your stiletto crashing into his balls. You might be a stripper but that doesn’t mean you’re some thing that men can treat however they wish. It’s a lesson he had to learn the hard way and you were happy to teach it to him. Two shots past drunk and embarrassed by your rejection he snapped, spewing the most vile things you’ve ever heard about yourself—about your body. 

It isn’t news to you that you’re one of the bigger girls here. San says that’s what makes you special, why customers come in to blow a check on you and you alone. He’s right, your bank account says so. The customers love you, they eat up every inch of your plush body. By all means you should feel like the baddest bitch in this building, simply because you are, but in that moment his words had reduced you to nothing. A few seconds ago you were twirling around the pole like a goddess now you found yourself scurrying back to the dressing room with tears in your eyes. 

At least that’s where you intended to go. Somewhere along the way you changed course, riding the velvet lined elevator to the third floor where San’s office sits at the end of a long hallway. At the time you hadn’t considered how much this might escalate the situation because, quite honestly, you didn’t care. More than feeling hurt, you were pissed the fuck off. Your tears were of anger and, whether you felt it at the time or not, you wanted that motherfucker to pay for it. 

This place you work at. There’s more to it than what’s on the surface. It’s easy to get so distracted by the luxury and the lights and the pretty girls dancing that you miss the truth of it all. In fact, that’s the point, but you know a mafia front when you see one. You aren’t oblivious. You know what this is, who San is, and maybe that’s exactly why you were tapping at his door. A damsel in distress in black lace lingerie.

San’s heart dropped when he saw his favorite girl in tears. He stopped everything, sending his men away so he could place all of his focus on you. Resting his jacket over your shoulders, he gently cradled your cheeks, brushing the tears away to ask quite simply, “Who did it?” 

You explained everything, how that asshole grabbed you and the things he said, and San’s anger grew quietly, simmering beneath a surface of calm. He took a seat at his desk, setting you down comfortably in his lap, and pulled up the security cameras. “Tell me when you see him, okay, baby?” he instructed sweetly, his palm massaging the smoothness of your thigh.

You nodded, struggling to focus on the screen with his hand on your thigh and him calling you “baby”. San touching you wasn’t a rare occasion but it was always something light. A hand on the small of your back or fingertips grazing your arm. Never this purposeful—this intimate. You couldn’t help imagining how it might feel if he gripped a little harder, moved a little higher. You felt your heart begin to race, your temperature rising the longer you sat there in his lap.

“That’s him” you sniffled, spotting that familiar face on the screen. San studied the screen a moment before turning back to you. “I’ll take care of it” he promised, his hand riding your thigh and coming to rest at the gentle curve of your hip. “And no more crying, baby. You’re too pretty to cry.” Too pretty to cry? Oh, but you were crying, absolutely weeping, only between your thighs this time. 

San disappeared from the office, leaving you too lost in the lingering haze of his touch to even think about your insecurities, but that only lasted so long. Alone in the quiet of his office, the self doubt began to creep back in. You tried to distract yourself by exploring your surroundings—the impressive collection of vintage whiskey, the gorgeously framed art hanging from the walls—but nothing could distract you from how uncomfortable you’d become in your own skin. It didn’t help that the office was lined with mirrors, reflecting glimpses of your figure with every turn.

At last out of distractions, you turn to face the mirrored image of yourself, letting San’s jacket slip to the floor. You strike a pose, a half hearted copy of something cute you might do on stage, and watch the way the fat of your body squishes together here or there. You strike another then another then another but they’re there in every pose. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs. Your weight shows in all of them. Pinching your lower belly you think of how the other girls have had work done. Maybe if you got some done yourself…

“I left him out back. Clean him up before someone sees” San says, pushing through the door, his phone pressed to his ear. 

You jump a bit at his arrival, scrambling to grab the jacket, but San slips in behind you, closing his arms around your waist before you can retrieve your safety blanket. You tense at first but find yourself settling into his embrace as if it’s the most natural place for you to be. 

“So, what was that?” he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he inhales your perfume and the sweet scent of honey and jasmine fills his lungs. You smell as beautiful as you are, as beautiful as everything about you is. 

“How’d everything go?” you press, quick to change the subject. Noticing a series of tiny red scrapes on the knuckles of his right hand, you carefully take it into yours, assessing the damage. 

San shrugs it off like it’s nothing. It still stings but it’s far from the worst pain he’s ever felt. “I said I’d take care of it. It’s been taken care of.” 

You giggle at the contrast of something so menacing being spoken by someone so regal. “San, you make it sound like you killed him.” 

He leans into your neck, his lips grazing your skin on their way up to your ear. You shiver at the contact and his hold on you tightens, your bodies pressed flush against each other so that you can feel his bulge pressed into the plush of your ass. 

“Killed him? Almost” he whispers, “I answered your question so it’s only fair you answer mine, isn’t it? What were you doing? I came in and you were…” San pinches your belly, his fingertips planting adoration where there was once doubt. 

“I…uh…I was…” you stutter, searching your brain for a believable lie but you can’t find a single one.“There’s this doctor, a few of the girls have gone to him to get some work done, and I was just thinking, I don’t know, maybe...why am I even telling you this? You don’t care and anyway, it’s silly.”

“It is silly” he agrees, notes of that quiet, controlled anger you witnessed earlier resurfacing, “But you’re wrong to say that I don’t care. I care about how you feel about yourself, I care about you. You must know that.”

“I mean, I know you care about me. You care about all of the girls” you say, hesitant to accept this as a profession of anything in particular. 

San spins you around, pinning you between the warmth of his body and the cool mahogany of the desk. “I don’t care for any other woman the way I do you.” 

There it is, a profession of something very particular. He’d hoped that you’d seen it by now. He wonders if he didn’t do a good enough job of showing you. It’s been so long before you, years even, that he had feelings like this for anyone. The world he operates in doesn’t allow for soft spots. Soft spots are how you make mistakes and when mistakes are life or death you can’t afford to make them but he couldn’t help himself with you. You caught his eye the day you walked in for your audition and you’re all he’s been able to see since. You’re so delicate, so beautiful, a perfect contrast to the toughness of his life. It’s why he protects you—why he always will. 

“Your body…” he says, his palms racing up and down your curves, “It’s perfect. There’s nothing about it that needs fixing. If you let that doctor touch you I’ll break both of his hands.” San’s gaze is heavy with lust, months of longing just begging to be satisfied. It burns him up inside, sets fire to his very being, and being kissed by the flames of that need is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

“Is that the way you romance women? With threats of violence?” you tease, draping your arms across his shoulders.

“Sometimes but usually it’s like this” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours. His tongue parts your lips, twining around yours to deepen the kiss. His movements are careful and deliberate. The kiss intoxicatingly slow. 

San grabs you by the hips, lifting you onto the desk and you let out a little squeak of surprise as he sets you down. “You’re so fucking cute” he grins, spreading your thighs to fit perfectly between them. 

“You think so?” you say so innocently it only makes him want to ravage you more. 

Tangling his fingers in your hair, he tilts your head to look back at the mirror, “Don’t you?” 

An unexpected wetness soaks the lace of your panties at the sight of your shared reflection. Nothing has changed about your body. It’s the same one you were picking apart, the same one you were doubting, and San loves everything about it. He praises it with his hands, with his fingertips, with whispered confessions of everything your body needs to hear. 

”I watch you sometimes when you’re dancing” he says, effortlessly doing away with your bra, “I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself when you look the way you do. It’s like you’ve put a spell on me. My little witch.”

San captures one of your breasts, kneading the plump flesh in the palm of his hand. He pinches your bud between his fingers, tugging at it just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

“But I don’t have any magic” you whimper, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. They pop open one by one, revealing a body that had to be sculpted by some divine feminine deity. You push the fabric away, your fingertips delighting in the perfection of her creation. 

San’s free hand reaches between you, stroking your clit through your panties. He groans at how soaked you are, your juices leaking through the lace to coat his fingers in your juices. “You do have magic, baby” he whispers, tucking your panties to the side, “It’s right here.”

“Aah, Sannie” you moan, your hands sliding down his abs as his fingers stretch you open. 

Your body falls back, a sharp chill coursing through you as your bare back hits the desk. San sinks his fingers deeper into your core, his cock stiffening at the sight of your body moving as hypnotically as it does on the pole. Only now it’s for him and only him. This is how San likes it, how he’s always wanted it to be. Him with his fingers buried deep into the warmth of your pussy, your walls greedily clenching around them, and you spread out across his desk, your gorgeous body on full display and your lips spilling out moans meant for his ears alone. 

Kneeling between your legs he pulls your panties aside harder this time, nearly tearing the fabric as he knots it in his fist. He brings his thumb to your clit, toying with it just to see how your body twitches with every touch. “How can a girl be this perfect?” he says, nearly salivating, “Even your pussy’s gorgeous.” There’s an audible wet sound, another sweet whimper escaping your throat, as his fingers slip out of your core and his tongue takes its place.

“San, wait…” you beg, grabbing at his hair, but you’re too late. Your attempt at pacing yourself is useless. His tongue’s already filling the space between your walls, wiggling and curling against your sweet spot. His dark hair knots around your fingers, your hips raising to ride every wave his tongue sends washing over you. 

San drags his tongue up through your petal soft folds, swirling it around your clit before diving into you again. He suckles at your clit, gently at first then faster, more ravenous. His gaze flicks up to you, taking in the way your belly jiggles and your breasts bounce. He’s drunk on your juices, already addicted to the way you coat his tongue. You taste like heaven and look like it too. It takes all of the self control he has to pry his mouth free of your pussy, snatching your panties down as he does. 

Standing back up, he grips your thighs, spreading you open to watch the arousal drip from your pussy, leaving pretty little drops on his desk. Your eyes are glued to him as he unzips his pants, letting his cock fall right between your legs. The swollen tip throbs against your lower belly, leaking precum, warm and sticky, on your skin. You rock your hips, clenching around air, craving friction from that deliciously veiny cock of his. 

“You want it, baby?” San teases, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. His length slips between your folds. They’re so smooth, so slick. Toying with your pussy’s like splashing in a lake. You’re wet enough to drown in.

“I want it, Sannie, aah, fuck…” you moan, your eyes widening at the realization that his tip’s pressed to your entrance now, stretching you the faintest bit. 

“Then tell me how perfect your body is. Tell me you love it.” He pushes in an inch more, stopping to leave your hole spread wide around his cock, still needy and deprived. 

The stretch has the room spinning, a single taste of him already making you want more. “My body’s, mmph, beautiful” you manage as he gradually feeds you more of him, “I love it.”

“Don’t stop. Keep telling me. Make me believe you” San demands, thrusting into you so hard that he bottoms out. 

You cry out at the force of the thrust, your lashes fluttering away tears, “I love, aah, my body. I love my body. It’s beautiful. It’s…it’s…”

Tucking his hands behind your knees, San pushes them to your chest, snapping his hips against you hard enough that your thighs jiggle around him. All of you does. Every stroke of his cock makes you tremble and he’s hardly able to keep still himself. You’re so tightly wound around his cock that he can feel all the finer details of your walls. They’re glued to him, sucking him in every time he even thinks about pulling back. 

Through heavy lids you watch the man you’ve only ever known to be a mountain crumble to pieces all because of you. San’s muscles are slick with sweat and a glossy haze dances over his eyes. His fingers are digging into your thighs, completely devouring them. He does what he can to swallow his moans but it’s impossible when you’re making him feel like his entire soul’s being snatched from his body. 

“You feel so fucking good” he grunts, planting breathless kisses up your leg, “Come here.”

San props your ankles up on his shoulders, hooking an arm around you and sitting you up so that you’re close enough to kiss. He grinds against your sweet spot, forcing his tongue down your throat so that every moan you set free echoes between his cheeks. Gripping the back of your neck, he slams into you, harder, faster, forcing your body to give into him. He fucks you until your eyes are rolling back, your mind too blank to recall anything that happened before this moment. There’s no thought of the incident, no thought of your insecurities. High on euphoria, your body feels beautiful, every inch of it. 

“S-San…” you whine, a familiar pressure building behind your belly. Your fingers begin to tingle as they cling to his muscles, searching for any stability they can reach. 

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he coos, not letting up on you, not even for a second.

Pulling his arm away he lets you fall back on the desk. With one hand cupping your breast and the other circling your clit, he watches you fall apart in the palms of his hands. For so long he’s had to watch you from afar, pretending that he wasn’t utterly obsessed with you, but now you’re all his. His pretty, moaning, teary eyed girl pouring your cum down his cock while you repeat his name like it’s the only word you know. He’s so singularly focused on watching you hit your high that his own takes him by surprise. 

Grabbing him by the wrist, you lock eyes, a weak smile forming on your lips. “Fill me up, Sannie” you whisper, your voice sexy even in its brokenness.

San’s body shudders and you feel a new fullness inside of you. The warmth pools deep within you at first, cascading down your walls the more he empties himself into you. “Fuck, baby” he pants, catching himself before his body doubles over. He came so hard his ears are ringing and holding onto you is all he can do not to fall. You sit up to stroke his cheek and he kisses your wrist lovingly. You stare into each other’s eyes for a minute that lasts an eternity, letting yourselves get lost in one another’s gaze. 

San breaks the trance with a kiss, holding you like one would the most precious thing they own. “Tell me, baby, how do you feel now?” 

You contemplate his question, your attention drifting back to the reflection in the mirror. It’s all there. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs, and San looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world. You turn back to him with a smile, “Beautiful.”

[skyeslittlecorner]

It's me Mario

I've been reading your posts for a while now and they. are. SO. GOOD. 👏👏 like i sheets read your posts with interest heh

So *ahem* may i have the honour of requesting some headcanons about how kings (+any other demon you like) would react to a distant MC? You know, sorta avoiding physical contact etc etc but they are still silly, crack extremely dark jokes and like cats

Feel free to ignore if you don't want to write this

And thank you! Here's an emotional support bear for you ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

I finally caught up on almost everything, it's time to get back to what I like the most.

*Hugs the bear* Thank you dear! It's a pleasure to write for you all 🧡

Satan is an excellent observer. You pull away from him, brush his hands off your shoulders, keeping a certain distance. He’ll adjust, but he watches closely—are you doing it out of fear, or do you simply dislike it? His response depends on that. Once he’s sure you’re truly avoiding touch, he’ll confront you. He wants to know why you’re so distant—and he wants to assure you that you’re safe with him. You don’t need to change. He’ll respect your space. But he needs to know that everything’s okay. By the way, Satan is such a big cat. I don't believe you can resist that fluffy mane when he's sleeping. Since he sleeps with his eyes open, sometimes he will pretend just for you to pet him.

Mammon understands you don’t want to be touched, but somehow he can’t grasp that your no-touch zone includes your ass. His hand has a mind of its own. Unfortunately, kicking him might break your heel, so at first, it’s best to keep your distance. Over time, he’ll learn. After all, whatever his Master wants is law. Besides, the more unattainable a treasure, the more valuable… and he can’t help that your unreachability just turns him on in even more.

Leviathan sees it as a major advantage and a sign of good manners. Maybe you’re not as hopeless as you first seemed. While he’ll outwardly seem content, a swirl of thoughts will race in his mind that he won’t let himself express. Has someone hurt you this badly, too? Without even fully realizing it, he’ll feel an instinct to protect you. As long as you don’t let anyone else touch you, he’ll be content, but if he sees any exception—one that isn’t him… hanging would be too gentle as a punishment. He has his own monsters for just such occasions.

Beel doesn’t know what “personal space” means. From ancient Sumerian to modern English, you won’t find words that could dissuade him from touching. In fact, as you’re explaining it to him, he’ll be hanging on you and nodding eagerly. Not that he understands a thing. If you start avoiding him, he’ll think it’s some twisted game of tag. But he’s got some sense in his head, and if he sees you starting to feel uncomfortable, he’ll back off a little. He doesn’t want to make you cry, just tease you a bit.

Lucifer might not notice at first, mainly because he doesn’t notice you—or at least, that’s what you think. After all, he’s intimidating; why would he come close? Of course, he’ll be well aware that you’re avoiding touch. Truth be told, in a way, it’s a relief. It means you treat everyone like this, not just him.

Belphegor, like Luci, will seem oblivious, except he truly doesn’t notice. Because he’s asleep. You don’t touch him? You don’t disturb him? You’re perfect, please stay as long as you can. He might not feel like hugging you, but he definitely prefers having you nearby rather than far away.

Asmodeus will initially assume that you’re reacting like any human ensnared by his aura. You’re defending yourself. Except, instead of panicked shoving, you’re instinctively and calmly backing away. Interesting. He’ll allow it because he’s curious to see what it’s about. You don’t like it? Impossible. And if possible, even hotter… Ahem, once he snaps out of eternally lecherous mode, he’ll manage to keep his hands to himself. He’s had a wife. He remembers all too well how a slipper sole tastes on the forehead (and not as part of foreplay).

As for the devil of my choice… Who am I trying to fool, we all know who I'm going to choose

In Andrealphus' case, your lack of touch is a bit different than with other demons. You pulled your hand away when he tried to take it. Turned your head when he wanted to feel your face. Stepped back when he simply stood close. The emptiness he felt cut deeper than the angels' swords. Touch is the only way he can see you, reassure you that you're there, that you're safe. He can't help but seek contact. It's not about any fancy caresses or even anything romantic. Just need for closeness. He's been alone his whole life. The hope that had begun to fill him froze and crumbled with every time you dodged him. Unable to keep his feelings in check, he would start avoiding you himself.

[dominicfikeme]

Moonlit Shores – Satoru Gojo

Summary A walk along the beach with your best friend, Satoru, should feel simple—easy. But not when you’re hopelessly in love with him. Maybe tonight, things will finally change. Warnings: Fluff, mutual pining, best friends-to-lovers trope, Satoru being playful and tender, tension, unspoken feelings. Hiii thank you sm for reading! Likes and re-blogs are highly appreciated and I wish a cold pillow to sleep on to anyone who does so lmao <333

Cool air sweeps across the waves, carrying with it the salty taste of the ocean. A flavor you don’t particularly want to taste, but right now, you couldn’t care less. After all, any inconvenience the beach might bring fades away in the presence of your favorite person.

That’s the only reason you’re even here at this odd hour—Satoru and his puppy-dog eyes. You figure accompanying him to the beach is the least you could do, especially after you begged him to join you at an art gallery just the other week, a place he has no interest in. Yet, he tagged along, listening intently as you explained why a certain painting made you feel so nostalgic.

You find yourselves doing this often—taking every opportunity to be together, even if the setting isn’t your favourite. It’s not so bad; you’ve come to appreciate the beach a lot more. The soft sand beneath your feet, the chorus of waves crashing on the shore—makes the whole experience rather enjoyable. Well, that and the sound of Satoru’s excitement as he dips his feet into the ocean for the first time.

You’ve noticed he doesn’t do many things for himself. He’s never really had the luxury of being just a little selfish. Sure, he may come off that way to others, but everyone having known about his strength since childhood means he’s carried an unfair amount of responsibility on the same shoulders he dusts off so easily pretending as if it all doesn't get to him.

For whatever reason, Satoru feels comfortable being a little childish with you—wanting late-night walks on the cold beach, and for whatever reason, you indulge him.

You walk along the shore, arms brushing every few seconds but never lingering longer than necessary. Satoru’s telling you how he got in trouble with Yaga for being late to class, though it wasn’t his fault his alarm didn’t wake him up. You roll your eyes at his excuses and laugh—a laugh that Satoru loves to about.

He’s always looking for moments to joke, no matter how dumb, just to see that smile on your face. A smile you offer so readily, no matter how ridiculous the joke. Even now, you laugh at his complaints about the terrible alarm clock Yaga gifted him for Christmas in an attempt to fix his tardiness. The laughter is so contagious that Satoru can’t help but join in.

In moments like these, with both of you smiling your biggest smiles, time seems to freeze, Satoru’s eyes reflecting the soft moonlight, his white hair messy from the breeze and the natural high of laughter filling the air, you feel free of all inhibitions. You feel an overwhelming pull to take his hand, to pull him closer, to seal your shared laughter with a long yearned for kiss. You wonder if he feels it too, the magnetic pull, the need to be more than whatever you both are, the need to have you close. 

His laughter softens, trailing into a content hum as he looks out at the horizon. “Toru–” you say softly, a kind of sincerity in your tone that Satoru picks up on. He looks at you, something tender in his expression urging you to carry on. But you are unable to, you can’t find the words. Your fingers twitch at your sides, itching to close the small gap between you.

Satoru, unusually patient, simply reassures you with a kind smile, one that allows you to take a leap of faith, letting your hand brush his but this time not pulling away. He looks at your hands, a smile growing ever so slightly as he curls his fingers around your hands. He looks back up at you, eyes soft. You brush your thumb against his knuckles, savouring the feel of his hands in yours, savouring the smile on his face, savouring the electricity that's coursing body because of a simple touch.

A shaky breath escapes you, breaking the silence. Satoru raises a brow, clearly holding back a laugh which only makes you chuckle first. It doesn’t take long before you both are laughing again, the tension giving away to a shared amusement. “You know,” you say, “I think I like the beach a lot more now, I reckon we do this more often.” 

“Yeah? Is it the waves or the company?” he teases, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. 

You grin, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “Definitely the company.”

[shan-yee]

•𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘟𝘐𝘐𝘐 = 𝘽𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣!𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙯𝙪 𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣

•𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 = 𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙯𝙪 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙮𝙤

•𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 = 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙣, 𝙠𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮, 𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙜, 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙨, 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧, 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙, 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙤𝙤𝙘 𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙯𝙪 ?

•𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 = 967

•𝘈/𝘕 = English is not my first language, please let me know if you see any mistakes ! Enjoy ✨

•𝘈/𝘕 2 = 𝙃𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙞 𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨-

[Kinks]

⇰ I clearly see Sanzu into BDSM, I think he likes to inflict pain on his partner but what he likes the most is that he is the only one who can do it.

⇰ If someone dares to touch what is his, without his consent, he will not hesitate to do ten times worse to them. But if he is the one to do it, it's totally different, he knows what pleases her and it's a way of having ascendancy over her.

⇰ The only person he won't dare say anything against will be Mikey. But honestly, the young man won't be interested in the reader at all so it's unlikely he'll do anything to her.

⇰ I think that he would also like exhibitionism but with a twist, he would be the one watching. Perhaps once or twice a month he would let other men have sex with his partner under his eyes, beware of anyone who dares to touch her outside of these times.

⇰ Knowing that at the end of the night she belongs to him and that she is enjoying herself while he watches excites him. He likes to think that at any moment he can tell her to stop and she will immediately push other men away, it's also a way to have control over her.

⇰ Sometimes he’ll leaves the choice to his partner and these will be the rare moments when he will be gentle, in his own way, if she wishes. Otherwise « vanilla »sex isn’t really his thing.

[Vocals]

⇰ I was pretty hesitant on this one but I think that Sanzu would be more of the vocal type during intimacy. Under drugs he will have difficulty holding back and sometimes won’t even be aware that he’s letting out noises.

⇰ Generally he will talk more than he will moan or grunt, he’ll tease his partner during penetration or oral sex for example and will try to make her react by biting her,

⇰ He's not really the type to worry about others and rarely will he ask his girlfriend how she's feeling, and even if she's tired or wants to stop it's not sure that he stops.

⇰ He may use vulgar words to describe his partner and even if she cries he will not really think about apologizing, unless she refuses to speak to him afterwards and at that moment, reluctantly, he will apologize. Sanzu will surely offer her something too, a way to be sure that she will no longer hold it against him.

⇰ During a « gangbang » he will be silent, which is very rare, and will only intervene rarely to compliment his partner or, on the contrary, denigrate her

[Dom/sub/switch]

⇰ Sanzu is clearly in the dom category, and compared to others he would not pretend to be a sub even to please his partner.

⇰ This trait comes out in everyday life and not just during sex, he is very controlling and tends to keep a close eye on the reader, whether by asking someone to follow her or simply by clinging to her.

⇰ He will choose most of her outfits and buy her makeup, but Sanzu is very observant and these little details will often pass for attention since he will always give her what she wants without her asking.

⇰ It’s his way of making himself indispensable. However, he is still « gentle », in his own way, and will take her to the restaurants or shops she wants, he will sometimes just give her his card and let her do what she wants.

⇰ But only when he is sure that she is not thinking about leaving him or having doubts about him—who he is and what he does—, because yes, Sanzu does not shout from the rooftops what he does and I think he will prefer to keep certain details for him.

[Position]

⇰ Sanzu is not very complicated, he likes most positions and is ready to discover others even if they may seem strange.

⇰ Generally he likes positions like « The pretzel » and « The G-whiz » which give him some control and allow him to touch his partner.

⇰ He will be able to stimulate her clitoris and will have fun with it, he’ll tend to continue to stimulate her after an orgasm to watch her wriggle.

⇰ He also likes practical positions which can be done standing up or on a flat surface between two « matter that does not concern you ».

⇰ During a BDSM session he will restrain his partner with ropes or harnesses, he’ll have fun testing her flexibility by attaching her feet to his hands or her ankles near her thighs using straps.

⇰ Generally he will not perform penetration in this positions and will just play with different toys.

[Biting/marking]

⇰ Sanzu bites a lot during the act, his goal is to leave a mark, definitive if possible. He often leaves deep teeth marks on his partner's shoulders and between her thighs.

⇰ He may leave a few hickeys here and there, but his thing is really deep marks.

⇰ During foreplay he might brush his partner's skin with a blade, from time to time he will press it to leave a slight trace and over time the desire to engrave his initials might cross his mind.

⇰ Sanzu will not ask for his girlfriend's consent, he believes that if she got with him she knew what she was getting into.

⇰ If the reader decides to leave marks on him in turn he won't say no, he will even be quite excited. Exceptionally, he could even lend her his blade and let her in turn engrave something into his skin, even if he clearly prefers to give.

⇰ This will only happen after a while of relationship, he’ll trust his partner and will not doubt her at all, if you want to run it’s your chance.

[firelightmlpoc]

Hey, just wanted to say good on you for standing up against the completely batshit accusations that have been thrown around the fandom lately. I cannot fathom how anyone believed those screenshots for even a second. I doubt you’ll get an answer, since the harassers are stuck in an echo chamber of validating their actions and will likely just stick their heads in the sand and pretend they can’t hear you. It sucks ass, but seeing that there are at least some people who will publicly question this bullshit is refreshing.

Of course. There’s a reason ‘innocent until proven guilty’ is something that’s supposed to be a baseline for an accusation of actions that have caused harm. After all, if someone makes a false accusation that then is treated as true, then another innocent person gets harmed, & then the waters get muddied for any other accusations thereafter.

After all, if someone lied about harm done & then makes another accusation, who’s to say that accusation isn’t just another lie? Something-something, ‘boy who cried wolf’. Then it also makes any other accusations in the nearby vicinity seem lest trustworthy because people don’t want to be wrong again.

Some people solely jumped on this hate-train specifically because it was against Pansear Doodles, & wouldn’t have interacted with this accusation at all if it didn’t center around someone they didn’t already dislike.

You want proof? Easy.

Look at the accounts saying ‘I always knew that Pansear was bad! Good to get proven right…’ and then look at their accounts. Almost always, they’ve been bashing Pansear (and other artists who do shipping of Slugcats & other similar art) because they just didn’t like the topic. And, instead of just acknowledging that they don’t like that content & moving on, they internalize that dislike & then try to find a reason to attach said dislike to the author. Then, they look for anything the author did wrong (be it true or not) & suddenly cry out:

‘I was right all along for hating this person!!!’

There’s an account that replied to my earlier post which REALLY clearly shows this in action.

@hourglass-meadow .

This reply is what they said.

An ask they responded to directly about Pansear. (Long-winded, yadayada.)

Their response:

And their first response to seeing Pansear gone.

Now, you know how many posts they made about Pansear potentially being a problem? None, except for the ArtiHunter comic, which has nothing actually ’problematic’ within. What about an ‘I hope the victim can find peace…’? Nonexistent.

These people don’t care if these allegations are true or not.

They don’t care who else gets hurt in this mess, as long as it isn’t someone in their circle.

They just want to see a ‘bad guy’ who is someone they don’t like get punished.

They want to claim their righteousness for all the world to see, as they cast judgement; a lynching in the court of public opinion.

And all of this targeting, IF this is fake, is more-or-less because people didn’t like seeing Pansear & others making /shipping/ art.

Because they saw someone else making something that THEY deemed ‘weird.’

There’s something to be said about the current political climate here, be it the Puritanical aspect of eliminating anything ’other’, ‘weird’, or ‘disgusting’ from sight no matter how innocuous/harmless it is;

the ‘Guilty until Proven Innocent’ mindset going around that makes actual victims more liable to not out their abuser out of concern for what will happen to their abuser (As, statistically speaking, abusers tend to be someone close to the abused, before abuse starts.)

Or even just the fact that people are simply emboldened to be as shitty as possible while they believe they’re anonymous online, because they’re of the mindset that they’re immune to consequences because they aren’t being directly known by these internet people in-person.

Don’t believe me? Look at every account celebrating Pansear’s self-eviction from the Rainworld community. Look at their actions & words from before this accusation. And then check what I said again. Cross reference this shit. See that the majority don’t care if there was a victim, much less if the potential victim is ok now or not; they just wanted someone they didn’t like, for one arbitrary reason or another, gone.

Cruelty was the point of many people’s actions against Pansear here, & by jove did they get what they wanted.

Remember folks! Remember this well:

No matter how much you align with leopards-that-eat-people’s-faces, the leopards won’t think twice about your face being next on their dinner plate.

That’s enough words from me for the time being, however.

[moxanji-real]

💖Introduction 💖

To my non sharing Sanji doubles..

*non shares harder* >;)💞

No, but seriously block me. Please and thank you 😭

StrawPage is a wip!

Banner art below is made by grubcakes

💖Hello I’m Moxie. You can also refer to me as Fork. (I use the name as my self insert cause I kin her) I’m an 18 year old bisexual lady thingy. I have a slight personality disorder so if you see me texting in a tone that is different or acting in a way that is different, it’s NORMAL. I just can’t really decide on my personality somedays XD.

💖This entire blog is a self ship blog. I kin my one piece self insert and will often “pretend” to be her and talk like I am her. I ship Moxie with Sanji from One Piece and consider myself a yumejoshi, selfshipper, oc x canoner and fictosexual. I’m in LOVE with Sanji and consider him my soulmate to put it simply. And yes, I am caught up on One Piece in case you’re asking.

💖My blog is 100% SFW! I don’t do NSFW! I’m too shy to post that stuff. Also I won’t be reblogging nsfw too! Minors of all ages you’re free to interact! Just don’t make any… sexual comments/jokes please and thank you. That’s my only rule! I prefer wholesome shit on my blog! 😤💞

💖Asks are open. I have a lot of lore of Sanji and my One Piece self insert. Keep in mind my One Piece self insert isn’t me irl but I do kin her. That's why I’m called Moxie.

💖 I’ll only follow back if you have a solid introduction posted. I need to see your f/o list first! I’d prefer to only have self shippers follow me but if you like my content hell idc what you are. I’m just grateful.🤣

💖Sanji is my only f/o and I’m madly in love with him. I’ve shipped with him since I was 8 with my self insert and as years passed I still did. (Obviously I had done a lot of work on my self insert over the years but shhhh) I loved him for more than half my life and I still love him too. I’ve loved him before One Piece became super popular in other countries so I consider myself a true One Piece fan and Sanji lover. Without Sanji I don’t think I’d still be alive, he saved my life, my little hero. :’D💞

💖 I’m autistic as absolute fuck and I LOVEEEEEEE giving people my love and support. I NEED to make others happy- y'all don’t realize! 😤💞

💖If you have a One Piece f/o or if you are just a casual self shipper or do oc x canon please interact with me! Seriously, it would make me so happy!!! I’d love to be your friend! And don’t worry about me not responding, I’ll fucking respond and I’ll respond amazingly too 😩💞. I’m an extrovert! I know… spooky… we don’t see these a lot online lmao.

💖My current hyper fixations are One Piece, The Golden Girls, the Sims 4, Bleach, LPS, Sanders Sides and the X files

💖 I’m an artist, (not a really good one) and I do art trades and draw my self ship. Yes you can ask for a art trade and no I’m not picky on skill.

💖DNI: If you’re a Proshipper who supports incest or pedofillia or beastility. NSFW BLOGS or NSFT ALTS (if you are a sfw account but post nsfw content sometimes that’s fine! I just need tags!) If you’re a Minor who self ships with Sanji or simps for Sanji and posts nsfw content about him etc (Minors themselves can interact but not ones who lust after Sanji.) If you write sanji x reader fanfiction. If you constantly reblog Sanji x oc/self insert content or Sanji x Zoro, Sanji x Pudding and Sanji x Ace.

💖Policy on Doubles: Doubles? Yeah you can interact. Might not support your relationship but you can interact! If you’re comfortable with it give me a Sanji tag to block from your account if he’s not your main f/o. I am NON SHARING with Sanji. Oc x Canon with Sanji? Don’t wanna see it and will block on the spot if I come in contact with Oc x canon art of Sanji if I don’t know you. But if you want to support me you can because I do appreciate the support! (And hell, I’ll be willing to support your other ships. Just not the sanji one.) I just think I need Sanji more than anyone here. Literally he is the only thing keeping me going 😭

💖 Sanji and Moxies self ship tag name is Moxanji

[sorcerersandskillusers]

Odasaku's last words were exactly what Dazai needed to hear. And were the ONLY thing that could have freed him from the Mafia and, set him on the path to the light

“You should know this yourself. No matter whether you’re on the side of killing people or saving people, there will never be anything that can surpass your mind. There is no place in this world that can fill your loneliness. You will linger in the darkness forever.”

I've seen lots of people complain that Oda is being too cruel here, that he is destroying Dazai's hope that he could be better. BUT ITS THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE! The next paragraph in the light novel shows exactly why.

At this moment, Dazai realised for the first time.

Odasaku understood him far beyond what Dazai had ever thought. He had already reached close to his heart, the place near the centre of his heart. Before this, Dazai had never noticed there was someone who understood him so well.

For the first time in his life, Dazai wanted to know something from the depths of his heart. Hence, he brings up the question to the person before him.

“Odasaku… I… What should I do?”

Dazai truly believes deep down, that he is fundamentally broken; that he is not a human being, he is terrified of any hope that he might be able to find a reason too live because everything he wants is lost to him the moment he attains it.

If Oda had said "Dazai, you can be a good person if you try" or "Your human just like everyone else" Dazai would not have accepted it, he might have tried for Oda's sake, but he would not have seen how deep Oda's understanding of him was and thus would not have asked him that crucial question:

“Odasaku… I… What should I do?”

It's because Oda understands that Dazai cannot except his humanity that he can set Dazai on the right path. He does not tell Dazai that he will find a reason to live if he saves people, because Dazai would never believe that. instead he tells him that it will be a little more beautiful, which Dazai can hold onto and follow, and hopefully find that reason to live himself, without Oda telling where it can be found.

“Since both sides are the same, become a good person. Save the weak, protect orphans. Regardless of whether it’s justice or evil, to you, there isn’t a big difference between the two… But, doing that would be better.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know, I know this better than anyone else.”

Dazai looked at Odasaku’s eyes.

Odasaku’s eyes were filled with conviction. The words were clearly said with some sort of strong basis. was it past experience? Or perhaps someone’s suggestion? —He was trying to show Dazai the path he once walked. Dazai understood this.

Dazai could trust it.

“I understand… I’ll do that.”

Oda understood Dazai, deeply and truly, better then anyone else ever has and maybe ever will. His description of Dazai shows that perfectly:

"He's sharp witted with a mind like a steel trap. And he's just a child━a sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier than the one we're seeing."

He saw him for both the genius he is and the child he pretends not to be, and was the only person to ever reach both half's of Dazai's soul, he was his friend, simply and truly. The only one he ever had.

[onigiriico]

Mikoto audio drama (t2) - English TL

[ links: Spotify | YouTube ]

Mikoto-ing again 🫡 I know I say this like every other post, but I 100% recommend listening to the audio alongside the translation! On one hand the VAs just did an amazing job on this, and on the other hand I also feel like it'll. probably make the switches more obvious than I can convey in text lol

Little disclaimer about the way I translated the DID terminology here: I know the correct term in English is "alter", but in the JP audio they're consistently referred to as "personalities" (人格 / jinkaku) while the closest Japanese equivalent to "alter" seems to be 自我 / jiga, from what I could find. I generally try to stick as closely to the JP terminology with my translations as possible, so I mostly went with "personality". I really don't want to offend anyone here so I hope that's a somewhat okay choice ahshbsdj

Okay. Okay that got lengthy. As usual, if you find any mistranslations, have questions, etc etc feel free to send me an ask or hit me up on Twitter where I drop by, like, once a month 😅 And now without further ado:

⬇️ translation under the cut ⬇️

(Es enters)

E: Mikoto…

M: Ah… Hi, Warden-kun.

E: You… are Mikoto, right?

M: Uh… What are you talking about? It really feels like it’s been a while, doesn’it? How have you been? – Huh? What’s that…? Chains? Oh, no. Take them off!

E: I refuse. You’re too dangerous. Physical restrictions are necessary.

M: Umm… (laughs) What are you saying, restricting someone who can’t even hurt a fly?

E: You really aren’t aware, huh…

M: Well, I mean… I do get it. I… go out of control while I’m asleep, right?

E: …

M: The others told me about it. How I got into a fistfight with Koto-chan and whatnot.

E: Seems like it, yeah.

M: I wonder if it’s like… some kind of sleepwalking…? After all, I’ve been losing sleep more and more often recently… Man… It’s really troublesome, isn’t it?

E: Mikoto…

M: The others are all scared of me. I can tell by looking at the way they act. Because I read the room.

E: …

M: It’s pretty tough, isn’t it? (laughs) Ever since I came here, so much has been happening that I don’t understand…

E: … You really… do laugh when you’re suffering, huh?

M: Huh?

E: You don’t get angry. You don’t scream. You laugh, like it’s a minor inconvenience.

M: Ah… I guess so. I might have that kind of trait.

E: …

M: Usually, if you just laugh and pretend, things work out in the end, right? I’m pretty good at that. Making things work out to the best of my abilities.

E: Is that so…

M: (laughs) …But… it’s not coming to an end. All of this. With things I’ve never even heard before, the whole ti—

E: …

M: —the whole time… I have to make all these irritating experiences…!

E: You came out, huh.

M: Hey. Looks like you haven’t gotten a beating yet, Warden brat.

E: …!

M: Hah? What, are you scared?

E: Like you didn’t get beaten by Kotoko…!

M: Hah. That was just because she caught me off guard. We went at it again while you were asleep, and it’s not like I lost there.

E: Multiple personalities… Am I right with the assumption that the you I’m talking to right now is another personality of Mikoto’s?

M: Well, I guess that’s about right.

E: I see. What do you want me to call you?

M: Huh? You’re accepting this pretty readily, aren’t you. Wouldn’t the whole multiple personalities thing normally raise some eyebrows?

E: Yeah. I also didn’t think it was real, at first.

M: Figures. If it wasn’t me, I wouldn’t believe it either. I’d just think it’s a lie someone came up with to get away with murder.

E: But Milgram acknowledges that [it is real] in your case. I simply accept that as the truth, and develop my thoughts from there. So? What do you want me to call you? Your name.

M: No clue about that. Just call me whatever.

E: … For convenience, I’ll be calling you John.

M: Sounds like a dog’s name.

E: It’s derived from John Doe, the name given to unidentified bodies. Do you like it?

M: Can’t say I’m very fond of the way you’re flaunting your knowledge.

E: … Anyway. You’re acting pretty calm today, aren’t you? I thought of you more like a monster of some sort. I wasn’t expecting to have such a proper conversation with you.

M: Don’t get cocky! If not for these chains, I would’ve beaten your face in by now, brat.

E: Ohh, scary, scary.

M: Hmph.

E: John, you are not a prisoner of Milgram. The fact that Milgram’s usual restraints are ineffective against you is more proof for that than anything. Milgram has judged that Mikoto is the prisoner, and you, as his alter, are an exception.

M: Huhh, I see. So that’s why you believe that there’s multiple personalities.

E: That’s why I thought I would try and talk to you as a key witness today. I’m rather glad that you’re being cooperative.

M: But, you know… This isn’t a good thing, probably.

E: What do you mean?

M: I (boku) might be trying to disappear.

E: …

M: Evidently, the time I (ore) have been fronting has been getting longer, so this “me” has been able to stabilize. Isn’t that the reason we can talk properly?

E: …

M: If I had stayed a monster… maybe that would be better.

E: …

M: What?

E: You’ve turned out to be much more rational than I expected… I’m surprised.

M: I’m a university graduate, after all.

E: (sighs)

M: As for alters… Why do you think they’re born?

E: In precise terms, it’s called dissociative identity disorder – generally speaking, [it refers to] when a person experiences severe pain or stress, and a new personality is created to try and isolate [the original personality] from the resulting trauma.

M: Yeah. I… probably come out to ease the stress Boku experiences. The fact that I come out for longer just means that Boku is constantly under extreme stress.

E: Stress… Namely the environment of Milgram, right?

M: Right. Especially the fact that you judged against forgiving Boku is causing a lot of stress. That’s why he’s entrusting me with his heart.

E: I see.

M: Not like I can blame him. From his point of view, he’s being blamed for a crime he can’t even remember.

E: If that’s the truth, then… you’re the one who committed the murder?

M: Yeah, it’s me. I killed them off.

E: …

M: So Boku really didn’t do it.

E: Can I ask… why you killed them?

M: They annoyed me.

E: Who did you kill?

M: Just someone who was walking around nearby.

E: … How many did you kill?

M: Can’t remember. I was first born back then, you know. It’s kinda fuzzy.

E: How can you talk about that so calmly?

M: (sighs) According to the law, how would this go for Boku?

E: With a psychiatric evaluation, there’s a chance of a reduced sentence, but depending on the number of victims… the death penalty might be inevitable.

M: …! I– I’m the one who did it! Boku was just sleeping!

E: Is this really something that works that conveniently?

M: Just put yourself in Boku’s shoes for a moment! He was bottling up all his stress! He kept dealing with it all by himself the whole time, until it exploded! It’s not like he just decided that he wanted to hurt somebody!

E: …

M: He’s not the type of person who could do stuff like that! He always looks out for others, always reads the room, always tries to get along with people around him! He can’t do stuff like that… He was on the verge of exploding! That’s why I was born. It’s obvious, isn’t it? Boku didn’t do anything!

E: Even if that’s true… Even if it wasn’t what Mikoto wanted – someone’s life was still lost.

M: …!

E: Even if it was you, John, who was in [your body at the time] – there’s no way for you to prove that. At the very least not in a way that would be accepted in court. It could still be judged that you’re pretending—

M: You…!! What do you think?

E: I…?

M: I’m the one who did it! Boku didn’t do it! You know that because of Milgram! I don’t care about the law, I want to know what you think!

E: …

M: Please… forgive Boku. I’m the one who did it.

E: … I can’t… judge that right away. It’s not something that I can easily decide to forgive. In fact, Mikoto’s mental footage was so violent… it’s unforgivable. That’s how I judged.

M: That could also just be a fake or owed to the multiple personalities, right?! Boku really isn’t at fault! I’m the one who killed them!

E: …

M: Are you really satisfied [with the unforgiven judgment]? He turned into a murderer overnight!

E: What you did could still be considered a sin, though!

M: …! … I think… I might be the person Boku wishes he was. The person who stubbornly stands his ground, who doesn’t cry himself to sleep from stress, who gives people their payback. If I, the “ore” personality, hadn’t been born, I’m sure Boku would have reached his limit and fallen apart.

E: John… you…

M: It’s true that I was the one who wanted to destroy everything… and the weakness of Boku, who couldn’t stand up for himself all alone, might have been the origin of that. But… that’s all there is to it. Is that a sin?

E: I’ll be considering that after this.

M: After talking to you, I get that you couldn’t forgive what I did. And I’m fine with that.

E: …Yeah. That’s right.

M: The one Milgram is supposed to judge is Boku – Mikoto, right. He’s not me – so, not John.

E: Precisely.

M: Please, forgive Boku. If you don’t… I’m sure he won’t be able to deal with this any longer.

E: “A sin committed by another personality isn’t a sin”... you’re telling me that’s how I should judge?

M: Yeah. If you forgive Boku… I’ll disappear.

E: …

M: That’s right. I’ll have to disappear eventually, anyway… Disappear, and take all of it with me. I… was born to protect Boku, after all.

E: You were… born for it…

M: Yeah. If it’s for Boku, I’ll… do anything.

(machinery whirrs, bell rings)

E: John…

M: W…what? A dog’s name?

E: Mikoto…?

M: Warden-kun, you own a dog? What breed? No, wait, let me try guessing first– A toy poodle? Actually, maybe you surprisingly prefer the ugly-cute kind… like a French bulldog!

E: … No…

M: A pug, then?

E: It’s not the name of a dog!

M: Ehh… Then what…?

E: … It’s the name of your… friend.

M: (laughs) I don’t know anyone like that~

E: … I bet you don’t.

M: Huh…?

E: Prisoner no.9, Mikoto. Sing your sins.

[a-heart-attack-ow]

The Arrangement. Part Eight

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight: Smut/unedited

The cameras flashed like lightning snaking across a dark sky. Blinding and magical all at the same time. I held the soup ladle with my left hand as I’d been instructed to, my massive black diamond ring on display to my audience. I smile widely, making sure to remember that the smile needs to reach my eyes to be believable. Before me was a line of homeless individuals waiting for me to serve them. I’d done work with the soup kitchens before, but this was the first time that I had photographers watching my every move. I try to focus on the people I’m serving, the camera flashing as daunting for them as it is for me. I recognize some of the faces of the people in line and I greet them accordingly, an action that makes the cameras flash in another quick frenzy. I serve the food and try to remain focused on the people I want to bring awareness to. I mentally remind myself that this is why I’m doing this. 

Well, one of the reasons why I’m doing this. Aside from keeping my in-laws happy and aiding their goal of making Colby Brock’s image better to the public. Aside from the fact that if I don’t do this my father could pay the price for my insubordination. 

Worse than he already had. 

I try to shake the thought from my head, my focus returning to my work. I try to remember all of the points that Sam had walked me through this morning. The angles I needed to stand at and the facial expressions I needed to maintain appearances. 

Appearances that couldn’t indicate the agony bubbling beneath the surface of my skin.

The true nature of the family I married into. The true nature of what my husband got up to on behalf of his family. My smile grows as I serve the last person in line, my eyes locking with the cameras. 

As if on command, I feel Colby’s hand on the small of my back as he joins me at my side, the sensation uncomfortable and alien after the past seven months since that night. Months that had made us strangers once more. Except when there was a camera pointed in our direction, then we had a show to put on. He kisses the side of my head, my eyes fluttering closed. My heart skips a beat when he does this, the spark still evident between the two of us. 

God I loved him. Despite everything I loved him. Despite the distance that had grown between us.

He feels it too. The spark. I can tell by the way that his fingertips lightly rub where his hand is resting on the small of my back. A small reassuring gesture. I open my eyes and look over at him, our gazes meeting. 

Suddenly, it feels like it’s just the two of us. The way that it should be.

I want to tell him I love him, but I don’t. Instead, I simply smile up at him and he smiles back. The rest of the event passes by in a blur and before I know it, he’s holding my hand and guiding me to the car. Making sure the cameras see that we’re holding hands. It’s not until we are in the car and he pulls away that we drop the act. His hands grip the wheel tightly as he drives, his eyes on the road ahead. 

I can feel he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. He’s quiet. 

The way that he had been for the past seven months. Since that night.

Sure, we still fucked, but he seemed more reserved around me. More determined to only truly interact when he had to. He slept next to me every night and brought me along with him to his meetings with his associates, but I couldn’t place why he was so distant. I kept repeating that night in my head and I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong. He was just hot and cold and hard to read. 

Without realizing it, I’d been watching him for too long and he noticed. His jaw clenches and his eyes remain focused on the road ahead.

“There isn’t anyone watching us, you don’t have to pretend you care.” 

His words hurt and I can’t stop my eyes from watering. I couldn’t understand why he was so mad at me. I hadn’t done anything to warrant this response. I’d done what I was told the entire time we’d been together. This entire arranged marriage, I’d been good and now he was punishing me for something I wasn’t aware of.

I just couldn’t figure out what that something was. 

I hadn’t been unfaithful or strayed. All that had happened was my father got hurt by his parents and ever since then he was distant. The tears sting my eyes as I look down at my dress covered stomach. Down at the secret I’d been keeping from everyone for the last three weeks. 

I’m pregnant.

The removal of the I.U.D. had been a success and now I was carrying the heir to the Brock Family Estate. 

Just like I’d been told to.

The tears slip out silently as the weight of my situation hits me. I know that I needed to tell Colby, but I didn’t want to. Not when he’d been acting like this. I wasn’t even sure he’d be happy about the baby. 

Would he be upset that things were going to change? Would things get worse when they did? 

I tuck my hair behind my ear and remain silent as I break down in the passenger seat. I don’t know if he’s noticed, but I decide that I don’t care if he has. All I do is try to control my breathing as he pulls up to the gate outside of our house, buzzing security to let us inside. He parks the car in our driveway loop and I don’t wait for him to turn off the car before unbuckling and getting out of the vehicle. 

My feet move along the gravel of the driveway and up the thirteen marble stairs that lead up to our front door. I hear him turn off the car and get out. The sound of the car door slamming behind him the moment I reach the front door. I leave the door wide open for him, but I don’t make it too far into the house before I’m met by Sam’s sympathetic blue eyes. He sat on the steps of the grand staircase, waiting for an update on today’s events.  A look of confusion flashes over his face as he studies the tears escaping me. He glances behind me at Colby when the front door closes. 

“What the fuck did you do to her?”

He growls at Colby, standing up from the steps. The blonde brushes past me, his hands going for Colby’s black button up as he pulls his friend in close. I turn to face the two of them, my tear soaked face now evident to Colby. From the look on his face, he didn’t know I was crying, but now that he does an undetectable look flickers over his face. 

“Sam, please. He didn’t do anything to me. He just said something rude in the car. I’m sorry for getting upset.”

The words fall from my lips in a sad desperate tone. A tone that causes Sam to look over at me. His grip is still firm on Colby, who doesn’t move out of Sam’s grasp. 

“Don’t say sorry Emilia. This entire time that you’ve been here it’s always you apologizing for his behavior towards you. It’s fucked up and I’m tired of it…”

He pauses looking from me to his friend and adopted brother.

“... You’ve been treating her like shit since our parents hurt her father. As if it’s her fault or something, but if it's anyone’s fault it's yours. You’re supposed to protect her and you should’ve been the one to talk to mom and dad before anything happened to her dad in the first place. Instead, you ran away and did a delivery that any one of the guys could’ve done. You just didn’t want to step up.” 

Sam’s words hit hard to my husband and I can tell. It's in the way that he looks at Sam, the bitter look of disgust that overtakes his handsome face. My tears worsen at the words, my hand moving to my nonexistent baby bump. I can’t help but the feeling of heartbreak that I’m experiencing will kill me. Surely, I would shatter underneath all of this weight. 

“I’m pregnant.”

The words fall from my mouth in a gasp. Like a breath that had been held for too long. The desire to keep it a secret seemed to vanish under the tension I hadn’t been expected to feel today. The moment I speak, it’s like the air has been sucked out of the room. 

Two sets of eyes stare back at me in shock. Two mouths agape at the newest development. A sob escapes me as I look at Sam, my heart breaking at the look of kindness that he directs to me. Over the past seven months, Kris, Celina, and Sam had been my only friends at the house while my husband had chosen to ignore me. 

Until he wanted a fuck.

Even the other guys that worked with Colby had come by to visit. I’d become friends with Corey, Johnnie, Jake, and Nate. What would they all think when they found out? Would they look at me like Sam is right now? I hate to imagine how disabling that would be to experience. How their looks of sympathy might be the straw that breaks me completely. 

“When were you going to tell me?” Colby’s voice rasps in a mixture of frustration and disbelief. The tone of his voice is enough to make me want to snap and instantly I’m defensive. 

“I don’t know Colbs, considering you only truly talk to me now when there’s a camera stuck in our faces I wasn’t sure.”

His eyes narrow at my words. 

“What about last night when I was balls deep in you? Or this morning? You didn’t think to tell me then?”

There’s a smirk that finds the corner of his lips. The same smirk he wore whenever he talked about fucking me. A smirk that normally got me hot and bothered, but now made me want to slap him. This time I look at him with a clenched jaw, anger radiating through me. 

“Fuck you…”

The words come out in a broken sob. It had been years since I’d let myself get so angry that I cried.

“... All I’ve done is love you. Despite everything and every gut feeling that told me not to. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be the bright spot in this fucked up situation and for months you were. I thought maybe everything would be okay, but you took that from me the same night your parents chose to threaten me…”

Sam lets go of Colby and moves to my side, holding me against him as I break down, my knees wobbling. 

“... And the worst part is I’m still in love with you. Even though it’s clear you aren’t anymore. I don’t know what happened that night, but I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been mourning you and you didn’t even notice. I’ve been so alone even when you’re next to me and it's been agony.”

I stop speaking because I can’t say another word. I just crumble against Sam and his arms wrap around me as I sob against his chest.

 I hear him mutter something to Colby about ‘getting the fuck out of here’. 

But I can’t bring myself to care. 

I’m so tired of caring.

—

I fell asleep on the couch after spending hours crying into Sam’s lap, his fingers playing with my hair to soothe me. I don’t know how long I’d been out before I felt someone lift me from the couch, their arms strong as they held me tightly against them. The smell of his cologne is all that gives me the hint that it's Colby’s arms I’m in. Despite our arguing earlier, he gives my head a soft tender kiss. His grip on me tighter when he starts to take me up the stairs. It’s this softness that had made me fall in love with him in the first place, a softness that I’d been missing recently. 

“I got you darling.”

He whispers once he reaches the top of the stairs. I’m still out of it enough to be sleeping, but awake enough to know that he’s bringing me to our bedroom. Once we are inside, he lays me down on the bed and makes sure to pull the comforter up over me. I feel him brush the hair out of my face as he sighs. 

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but I have to say this now or I won’t say it at all. The dinner with my parents was harder than I let on. Yeah I cried like a little bitch and you saw that, but it's the way my parents view me that really got under my skin. I have a history of messing up or not being enough of what my parents wanted me to be. I never worked hard enough, I never kept secrets well enough, and then I messed up with you. The thing that happened with your father should’ve been avoided, I should’ve done the talking that night we had dinner with my parents. They saw that you’d become someone I cared for, that I didn’t have you under control and in line with what they wanted you to be with me. So they hurt you to punish me. I am so sorry about that...” 

He pauses to take another deep breath.

“... That’s why I’ve been so distant. If they knew that I was keeping you in line and not letting my feelings for you cloud my judgment they wouldn’t hurt you again. But in doing that, I’ve hurt you and I honestly didn’t mean to do that. I am still in love with you Emilia. I’m so proud of you and your ability to keep your head up in all of this. I promise to be better about communicating and I promise to be a better husband. I promise to be the best dad I can be. I want a future with you, not just an image in front of a camera. I hope that you’ll let me do that. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.”

He finishes speaking without realizing I’ve opened my eyes. He’d been looking forward the entire time that he didn’t notice until he felt my gaze. A small smile finds his lips when our eyes meet.

A smile I don’t return. Instead I look at him blankly, my body still tired from the hysterics brought on by today. I’ve never cried as hard as I cried today. My heart hadn’t ever shattered as badly as it had today. A simple sorry wasn’t going to do it and I needed to stick to that. Even though the sight of him in only his black sweats causes my mind to wander for a second, desire laced deep within me despite it all. 

“This cycle needs to stop. The hot and cold bullshit has to stop. We are having a baby and I’m not going to allow this type of atmosphere for them. You’re either all in now or I’m not doing this anymore. I’ll have our child, but I’ll stay in my own room and keep up appearances for the sake of my father’s life. But if you don’t want us then I’m done.”

He listens to what I have to say, truly listens to every word and contemplates. Not even when I sit up in our bed and look at him does he speak. He really mulls it over and I do appreciate that. We’d both spoken more words to each other in the last few minutes than we had in months. 

I missed hearing him speak.

I shake the thought out of my head as he reaches for me, his hands pulling me onto his lap. I try not to meet his gaze as he does this, but it’s no use. He places a hand under my chin and focuses his attention on me. 

“I want us.” 

He speaks so softly that I almost can’t hear him. Like he’s afraid that he’s going to upset me again if he speaks any louder. I place my hands on his bare chest and breathe out a deep sigh as I trace the tattoo above his heart. He’d explained what it was to me once, a symbol that meant ‘protect your heart’ , something I thought was cute, but now I look at it and I wish that I’d done the same. My heart had been through the ringer for the last year.

Year.

The thought enters my head as I recall the date. One year ago today we’d been married. An anniversary that snuck up on us both with cruel irony.

“We’ve been married an entire year Mr. Brock.”

I state lifelessly as I swallow hard. He nods as if he already knew it, something that makes today worse. He had to choose today of all days to be an ass. 

“Has it all been bad, my darling wife?”

He asks. Eyes trained on me. 

“No, some of it has been good. But my husbands a real dick sometimes.”

I respond quickly, unable to stop myself from smiling when he feigns offense. He places his hands on either side of my waist and I can feel what direction we’re heading in. He bites down on his bottom lip and focuses on how my breathing hitches. Slight annoyance with my own body’s inability to chill the fuck out overtakes me briefly, before he places his lips to mine in caution. 

I don’t bother trying to fight how good he feels as he kisses me. Nor do I bother with the fact that he’s lifting up my dress, his hands finding my thighs. Instead, I lean into it, my hands on top of his as I help him unwrap me. He groans at the action, satisfied that I want him as badly as he wants me. But wanting Colby has never been an issue for me, which is how I’d ended up in this mess in the first place. I can feel him getting hard beneath me, harder as I grind myself against him. An action that practically causes him to growl in sexual frustration. He moves me off of his lap and into our bed, his body straddling mine. He keeps his attention on me as he slides my underwear down my legs and lifts my dress up. 

“I’m sorry I made you cry.”

He rasps, placing light kisses on the inside of my thighs. I lay there with my eyes fluttering closed as the sensation of him kissing further and further up my thigh fills me with anticipation. Anticipation that feels worth it the moment I feel his mouth against my aching core, his tongue dipping inside of my slick sex. The feeling of his mouth was always incredible, but today it felt even better. Today I could feel the extra care he was spending on me as if his tongue was trying to atone for his actions earlier. My back arches into the bed beneath me as his tongue works on me, soft whimpers escaping me with each flick of his mouth. He works on me for several minutes of indescribable pleasure, my head spinning the entire time. I hear him chuckle darkly to himself as he can feel me getting closer to the edge. 

“Come on baby, cum all over daddy’s tongue.”

He speaks in a lower register as he whispers the words against my needy sex. The invitation is all that I need to release, his tongue lapping up my orgasm with feverish need. A moan escapes my lips as I come down from my high. My hands grip the comforter I’m laying on top of as my chest heaves up and down. 

“Fuck, Colbs.”

I whimper as his mouth moves from me, his body suddenly straddling mine. In the darkness his pale blue eyes find me, his face serious as he studies me closely. I can tell he wants to say something, but that he’s unsure of what exactly to say. He knew words wouldn’t change my frustration. He needed his actions to reflect a change, but he wasn’t sure where to start. 

I didn’t know either.

But at this moment I make the executive decision to deal with all of that later. Instead I move my left hand to the back of his head, guiding his lips to mine. His breathing gets heavy, when I deepen the kiss and my fingers lace in his hair. Moments like this made me thankful for the electricity burning between the both of us. It was undeniable and magnetic. 

It had always been. Regardless of whatever else was happening at the time. 

A groan escapes him as my hips lift slightly, enough to cause friction between the two of us. I may have just came, but I was more than ready to feel him inside of me. 

It didn’t matter how many times we’d done this. Everytime felt like the first. 

The air around us is heated, our bodies needy for each other. I slowly move my hands from his hair, my fingertips ghosting along his toned body and down his chest. I reach his sweatpants, the pads of my fingers lightly toying with the fabric. I drag them down an action that causes him to chuckle. 

“You seem to know exactly what you want Mrs. Brock.”

He lets me drag the sweats down and to expose himself to me. A sight that I knew I wouldn’t ever get tired of seeing. For a moment he stares down at me in wonder, at the mess he’s made of me. The heap of uneven breaths and a look of desire in my eyes. I smile up at him, a smile he returns. 

“I’ll always want you, Colbs.”

My voice sounds more sentimental than I intended it to, but I meant every word. He knows I mean it as he looks down at me, his face sweet as he presses his lips back to mine. This kiss is slower, more cautious as if he’s trying to savor the moment. As we kiss, he aligns himself with me, the tip of his cock sliding in slowly. Another groan from him sounds against my lips as he allows himself to savor how tight I am around him. He breaks the kiss as he slowly starts to thrust inside of me, our eyes meeting once more. He’s so gentle as he fucks me, a slow satisfaction that I didn’t want to stop. 

We remain entwined in each other, his head leaning down to rest in the crook of my neck. Light kisses a trail along my collarbone as he continues moving in and out of me, my body moving with his in perfect rhythm. He marks me carefully, aware of where he’s leaving the marks. The gentle sucking of his lips sent shivers up my spine. He thrusts deeper and deeper inside of me and with each movement I feel the nerves of my stomach building up. I can feel him getting closer to the edge as he thrusts. 

“I’m going to cum Emilia, but I want you to cum with me too.”

He rasps against my skin, breath heated. I moan in response, unable to form a coherent word. As he thrusts once more, I feel myself spill over the edge at the same time he does. Filling me with his cum. 

We lay in heated silence as we try to catch our breaths, our bodies slowly coming down from their high. We remain entangled together as I feel his cock twitch inside of me one more time before he pulls out of me to lay at my side in our bed. His blue eyes remain on me as he studies me closely. 

“I really am sorry.”

Softly he speaks, his hand reaching out to tuck some of my hair behind my ear. I can hear how sorry he is, but again I need to see a change before I’ll fully believe him. 

“How do you feel about me being pregnant?”

I ask instead of responding to his ‘sorry’. I knew that we had to get pregnant because that’s what his parents wanted, but now that it was happening I didn’t know how he actually felt about it. We’d only briefly spoken about it prior to this moment. He sees the insecurity in my eyes and the uncertainty of this new chapter of our lives. 

“I’m excited. There’s no one else I would want to have children with, but…”

He hesitates, his brows furrowing as he chooses his words carefully. 

“...I’ve got to figure something out about my parents. I don’t want my parents to get their grubby hands on our child. They’re not going to do what they did to me to them. I have to figure out a way of standing up for us and what we need without them retaliating in some way.”

His fingertips run through my hair, his face full of thought. I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t worried about the same thing. If I hadn’t worried that somehow they’d retaliate if we did one thing they didn’t approve of with our child. 

How else would they hurt my father?

The thought dances in my head, spinning out of control for a second before Colby’s hand moves to my face, his thumb lightly tracing over my cheekbone. The worry must’ve been evident on my face. 

“I’ll take care of my parents. In the meantime, you are literally growing a human inside of you so I want you to just focus on that. I’ll do the heavy stuff with my family.”

He draws me in against him, my head resting against his chest as he kisses my forehead. After what had happened with my father I wasn’t sure if I could fully relax. 

I trusted that Colby wanted to do the right thing, but could we out smart his family when they always seemed to be two steps ahead?

I wasn’t sure if we would be able to.

But God, did I hope I was wrong. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for immediately telling my friend about my other friends crush on him w/o permission? ⛅️ 🍂 ☕️

this sounds like a pretty quick YTA, but bear with me.

english isn’t my first language so I’m sorry for the atrocious grammar and formatting

So I (19F she/they) have been in a QPR with a guy (let’s call him Paul, 20M he/him) for a handful of months. We’re both arospec and acespec. I’m mostly out to my friends and close acquaintances, he is not out to anyone except me and one other friend due to some internalized queerphobia he’s working on (in his words “[he] is the last person you’d expect to be queer” and he doesn’t feel comfortable identifying with it yet in fear of being seen as “invasive”— especially since aspec people, men in particular, are seen as “pretenders” in some circles. I completely understand and respect this fear— I’ve dealt with it myself). We’re very close, but no one knows about the QPR except the other friend I mentioned earlier. people know we aren’t dating because I’m out as aroace. (he also gave me permission to send this AITA)

I was having lunch with a friend of mine (20NB they/all pronouns ), let’s call them Reese, and they mentioned that they have a crush on Paul and are planning to ask him out. They asked me my opinion, since I’m the closest to him, and I honestly just froze. They must have seen my hesitance because they asked if everything was alright, and then asked if he was taken. I said no, not to my knowledge. Reese asked me if I also liked him, to which I reminded them that I was aroace (they apologized immediately and genuinely so I’m not upset about that. Honest mistake). I ended up saying that I was simply surprised by the news, and that I supported their interest in him— and then immediately excused myself and went to the bathroom (social anxiety go brr).

I called Paul in the bathroom and told him that someone had a crush on him and were asking me about if I thought they should ask him out. I didn’t want to tell them he’s aroace since he isn’t out to them and it isn’t my place to say, but also wasn’t sure if I should continue to encourage them to ask him out since— idk. As someone who is currently in a monogamous QPR with Reese’s crush and knows he is aroace, I felt guilty pretending that I knew nothing while being fully aware that Reese was going to be disappointed.

I also probably had selfish motivations— I was genuinely afraid that Reese would resent me for not saying anything.

Anyway, Paul obviously needed to know the name of the person to discern whether he was comfortable with me telling them. So I gave him Reese’s name and he gave me the go ahead.

I told them when I came back from the bathroom— I tried to wait long enough so the reveal and the bathroom trip wouldn’t seem related, but failed spectacularly. Reese was visibly disappointed but not upset.

When we left the restaurant, they asked me if I had contacted Paul in the bathroom. I said— and I’m paraphrasing here— that since he wasn’t out yet, I wanted to double check to make sure he was comfortable with certain friends knowing. (Phrased in a way that suggested that nothing else was said— no mentions of crushes or anything. Which of course is a lie).

looking back on it, I probably am TA to some degree. I should have let the situation run on its own. There were also other ways (thought about three hours after the fact) I could have asked Paul without outing Reese about her crush on him (like giving him a list of friend names and having him say which friends he felt comfortable being out to). I am not the quickest thinker under pressure.

What are these acronyms?

[obsessedwithceleste]

I love you, I’m sorry

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: you were the best, but you were the worst, as sick as it sounds, I loved you first.

word count:

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It was the perfect plan really. Or it had seemed like it at the time. When fueled by frustration, love, and desperation, what could go wrong? Theo had loved you for as long as he could remember and he wasn’t afraid to admit that. To himself at least. But to you, well, that was a bit more challenging.

Coming from a pure blood family, a sacred 28 family no less, Theodore’s fate had been sealed long before he was even born. Destined to marry another rich, pure blood heiress, have children, and secure the Nott legacy another generation. All ridiculous nonsense if you asked Theodore. What was the point of tradition anyway? Pretty much everyone who cared was already dead, so what did it matter?

Unfortunately for Theo, his father was not dead and had been trying to find a suitable match for what felt like years at this point. Names of witches that Theo couldn’t even match a face to had been floated by, but Theo had spoiled each and every potential match and his father had been growing increasingly more agitated by the day.

That’s when it had struck him. Kill two birds with one stone. Get his father off his back and gain the perfect opportunity to win over the witch of his dreams. Was it a bit short sighted? Sure. But he wasn’t left with many options at this point and this was as good a plan as any.

“Please principessa, you know what my father’s like. And it would only be a few months.” Theo begged, following close behind you as you make your way through the labyrinth that is the Hogwarts library.

“I am not going to pretend to date you for a few months Theodore. That’s insane! Besides, no one would believe it anyway. We’ve known each other for how long? No one is going to buy the idea of us just now deciding to date. Especially not your father,” you sigh, plucking another book off the shelf.

You had known Theodore practically your whole life. The two of you had been best friends since before you could walk. Your earliest memories involved waddling around the gardens of his family’s manor as your mothers watched on in thrilled bliss. There was simply no way the two of you would be fooling anyone.

“Well that’s just it isn’t it? Father has been hounding me to court you for ages, he’ll be too relieved to care,” Theo replies, an air of desperation creeping into his voice.

“You’re being so ridiculous right now Theodore, this easily makes it on the list of your top ten stupidest ideas.”

“You keep a list?”

“It’s alphabetized.”

Theo has the nerve to look offended.

“Please principessa? I know your family has been on you too. This will buy us both a little time at least,” Theo protests.

In all fairness, the boy was right. Your family had been bothering you for months now, asking if you’d found a special someone. You didn’t want to admit it, but you had been secretly hoping over the years that one of your closest friends would develop some sort of interest in you. Cedric Diggory was the only person you’d known for almost as long as you’d known Theodore. You’d always had a soft spot for the boy’s kind and thoughtful demeanor, but it had yet to really go anywhere.

“Come on Principessa, when have you ever not sprung at the chance to go along with one of my stupid ideas? Is there some bloke I don’t know about?” Theo jokes, sending a teasing jab your way.

When he’s met with silence however, his heart clenches as he feels himself freeze. Only for a moment though before jumping back into the fray.

“Been holding out on me amore? Who is it? Do I know him?” Theo asks, burning with questions. And jealousy.

“I’m not even dignifying these questions Theodore,” you reply, trying your best to deflect.

“Oh come on now. It’s even more perfect now isn’t it? What bloke isn’t moved by a little jealousy eh? Please principessa. Just a few months, my father is off my back, and you’ll be able to fall into the arms of whatever bloke strikes your fancy because he’ll be dying to heal your broken heart.”

[brucewaynehater101]

You ever think about what would happen if Bruce had to kill in self defence?

Like literally no other choice, just attacked without holding back because he knows he’s about to die, and he puts a bit more force behind it than he expects and suddenly they’re not moving why aren’t they moving what has he done—

I haven’t put a lot of thought into it, and it depends entirely on how you write his character, but I think he’d either A. spiral before eventually coming to terms with the fact that there really was no other option at the time, B. panic and hide all evidence and pretending nothing happened while slowly spiralling into a pit of self loathing, OR if you want to go the really angsty route, maybe he hides all evidence and after some spiralling convince himself that it’s fine he’s Batman he needs to stay Batman so he’ll just put this behind himself and pretend it never happened, it was just one time it’s fine, but then one of his kids unearths some piece of footage or something and demands why the rules don’t apply to him, why he can keep on working and isn’t a threat despite being a killer yet Jason always gets shit for even knocking someone out. And mayybe one of the other batkids recently killed in self defence too, and Batman was lecturing them because ‘there’s always another option’ and how they shouldn’t be out in the field if they put civilians at risk, when Jason or Babs or someone calls him a hypocrite and it spirals from there…

Ooh ~ I like how you added the element that Bruce didn't mean to kill them. He never actually made that choice.

Despite Bruce's steadfast rules against killing, the man has killed before. Imma link an article here so y'all can look into it. Basically, pre-Robin Batman (or his beginning years as the caped crusader) used to have no issue with killing. This storyline was changed so that he had never killed at all, but it is interesting to ponder. He has made kills since his character insisted he has and never will kill, though. Some of the ones listed are alternative universes or times he was sure his enemy would survive despite their situation seeming to depict otherwise.

Therefore, it's not a stretch to say he would or has killed. There's some fics that examine the hc that Bruce DID kill someone (or multiple people) in that pre-Tim era and repressed/denied the hell out of that notion. Extending that out to other circumstances would cool af.

Anyways, let's look at this AU specifically!

The three reactions Bruce can have about this are:

The mentally healthy one of coming to terms and accepting this kill

Hide all of the evidence, spiral, and try to justify it to himself while remaining a hypocrite

Repress the fuck out of his memories (including killing, hiding the evidence, and anything else surrounding it) to deny it happened

The first one has opportunities for good dad Bruce where he communicates with actual words to his kids that he'd rather they come home alive. Great hurt/comfort for that route.

The second one is full throttle fuck Bruce. He's a hypocrite who berates the others for their choices in the field, reacts explosively to them even hinting at murder, and overall no one (including Bruce) is having a good time.

The third one has four options:

Bruce is obv not mentally well. He can receive help, come to terms, and eventually end up as good dad

He keeps denying despite how much evidence is proven otherwise, causing him to spiral and jeopardize his relationships.

He eventually accepts what happens but is steadfast that HIM doing so is fine. He won't excuse that behavior for anyone else regardless of the circumstances

After acknowledging the kill, he creates a self-fulfilling prophecy with his belief that even one death will cause him to spiral into madness and mass murder. There would be many clues that he could stop from becoming a monster, but he simply doesn't due to his ideas that one death is too far

The last one could bring lots of angst, especially for the person that forced Bruce to acknowledge the evidence and his kill :)

Maybe the fic can even force Alfred to be the one to put Bruce down for good :)

There are also fics that consider what Bruce's reactions and what the rest of the batfam would do if someone who's sworn off killing ends up killing someone (particularly on accident or in self-defense). There's either good dad Bruce who apologizes for ever giving the impression that killing in self-defense is wrong (when there's no other choice) or bad dad Bruce who goes nuclear.

This has absolutely nothing to do with Bruce killing someone, but this is a rant about Bruce's moral code:

For once, I'd kill for an ACAB Batman because cops kill, and that goes against his moral code. A simple math of murder = wrong, so therefore cops (who don't swear off ever killing again) are an entire group he's against the same as he's against gangs.

He's criticized the batfam, some JL members, anti-heroes, villains, etc. for their choices regarding murdering for justice. Are there any fics or instances in canon where he basically says "fuck the police" because they do kill? Not him stating that GCPD is corrupt, but him fully disparaging the entire profession/institution due to the allowance it gives in murdering. He could go on one of his rants about judge, jury, and executioner. He could chat about power dynamics, morals, police training, checks and balances, insufficient evidence gathering before execution, innocents killed, etc.

Where the fuck is ACAB Bruce? Give me reluctantly working with Jim despite his hatred of cops. Give me him stating he likes Jim as a person and his notion of changing shit from the inside, but Bruce (as someone who is legit working outside the law and policies in place) doesn't think it's possible to change enough. Give me Bruce debating whether his role of working with the legal system is doing harm.

If Bruce has black and white perspectives on murder, let him have it about everything.

[starsstuddedsky]

Doyoung as your brother's best friend...

(wc: 1.7k, non idol au, mentions of food, alcohol, reader has a mother/family, i really dont know what this is)

who you were always fond of because he was way nicer to you than your brother ever was growing up (a pretty low bar, but a win is a win)

he graduates before you and you see him only a couple times a year when your brother would hang out with him, which fizzles out and suddenly you realize you haven’t seen him in five years 

you finish college and get a great job offer except it’s a city five hundred miles away from home and you don’t know anyone, until your mother mentions Doyoung moved there a year or so ago and says something like you should reach out

to which you think no thank you but you politely say you’ll see what he’s up to 

and you don’t give it a second thought, you meet a few friendly people at work and try to call your old friends as much as you can but loneliness has a way of seeping into the empty corners of your room and the quietness of 9:56pm on a Tuesday 

so you figure a hinge date or two isn’t the worst idea

hey, guess what’s the worst idea? 

the first man you decide to go on a date with spends the first hour bragging about his job and how he’ll be able to retire by the time he’s 35 and simply does not stop talking about himself

you’re sure you’ve given help me eyes to every person that’s walked past but no one takes pity on you, until you’re looking into a familiar pair of eyes 

Doyoung doesn’t hesitate to stride up to you, saying “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, why haven’t you been looking at your phone?” and “The doctor’s say he won’t make it much longer!” 

it isn’t difficult to follow him out of the café and listen to him throw out fake medical terms until you’re around the corner 

he slows after that and you realize he’s gotten even taller and let his hair grow out a little

before you can tease him about the hair, he asks if you’re busy and when you say no, he drags you to the coin laundry to watch his clothes spin around 

sitting on the plastic chairs and sipping paper cups from the water dispenser, you trade stories, amazed at the Doyoung from your memory and the Doyoung that sits in front of you

he’s changed so much (he spends his free time painting and going to art museums) and not at all (still ducks his head when he’s feeling shy and smiles with his eyes just as much as his lips) 

you try to pretend like you aren’t stealing looks at him. he isn’t nearly as successful.

you walk to his apartment, only a couple blocks away and it’s gotten so late that he insists you spend the night, saying that your mom would kill him if he let you walk alone this late and to just take the couch 

to which you protest, because, honestly, what would his mother say not offering the bed? and he just rolls his eyes and gives you his best pillow 

except he must have really never slept on the couch because it’s actually so uncomfortable that you can’t sleep. when Doyoung gets up for a middle-of-the-night bathroom break, he finds you watching a crime show

despite making fun of you for it, he sits beside you and it’s actually way more comfortable when you’re using his shoulder as a pillow and then it’s suddenly morning and you wake up fully in his arms, meeting his smug smile

he does not waste time making fun of you, saying “what was that about the couch being uncomfortable?” and “are you sure you didn’t just want to sleep with me?” and pretending he wasn’t just as flustered

even though it’s daylight, he still walks you home and you find you don’t mind it at all. in front of your door, neither of you can figure out how to say you want to keep seeing each other, especially since you aren’t sure if it’s in a flirty context or not and what any of that would entail

finally you tell him your apartment has laundry, if he doesn’t want to pay for it and he says somehow he thinks you’re going to cost way more than a laundromat but he’s smiling 

Doyoung slowly becomes a fixture in your life and even when you truly befriend your coworkers and become particularly close with one of the baristas in the coffee shop next to your apartment, he’s always the first person you think of–when you get a commendation at work, when you have another fight with That One Coworker, when you stub your toe. and he tells you about his constant fight with the owner of a dog on his floor that thinks it’s okay to let their dog pee on Doyoung’s doormat, and you hear all about his friends before you finally meet them 

there are countless “almost” moments–telling him about this guy at work who flirts with you more blatantly than Doyoung himself and when you pause after saying you told him you have someone, he doesn’t say anything so you just say it was a lie to get the guy off your back; holding your hand on your birthday (after cooking a five course meal for you) but letting go before you even reach your apartment; staying over at his apartment again and refusing to sleep on the bed but he builds a wall of pillows between you “so you don’t feel uncomfortable”; waiting for the bus after drinking with his friends under a flickering streetlight where you think for sure he’s going to kiss you but he ducks away before you can let the fantasy dip into reality 

you know you have to talk to him about it directly (especially since all of your friends say that he’s as in love with you as you are with him) but every time you try to do it you freeze up and you can’t get the words out 

but when the holidays come around, you go to visit family with him and realize Just How Much you’ve changed around him

you’ve completely forgotten how to be normal around him, how to look at him without hearts in your eyes, but you’ll die if your family asks you what’s going on and you don’t have an answer, so you steel yourself up for a Doyoung-less Christmas 

it goes really well until Day 2 when your mother announces Doyoung and his family will be coming over for dinner. to make matters worse, your brother finally shows up and it becomes very clear 1) he and Doyoung still talk all the time and 2) Doyoung has not mentioned how close he’s become with you 

you try your very best to pull stories out of everyone else, since you can’t seem to mention anything about your life that doesn't include Doyoung, which apparently is true for him, you discover as he tries his best to tell the story about the time he wound up halfway across the city with a dead phone and no way to get back without telling them you were right there with him (ultimately failing since you were the one who ran into a friend who let you into their apartment to charge your phones) 

after dinner your brother and Doyoung disappear and maybe you’re being paranoid but you swear everyone is looking at you

so you go ahead and vanish into your childhood room, thinking about anything except your brother’s best friend who’s become your… (damn you really thought you’d have a word for him that time) 

an hour or so later, your brother knocks at the door and asks to come in (already scary since he’s always just busts in and purposefully leaves the door wide open). he sits down and says he doesn’t care what happens between you and Doyoung but not to hide anything on his account and you’re like okay well there’s nothing to hide and he’s like if my dumbass can pick up on the vibes, there’s something to hide so go figure it out and you’re like wait what did Doyoung say and he rolls his eyes and mutters something like “I am not doing this” and tells you Doyoung is waiting for you outside 

you did not sprint down the steps, no matter what anyone says. it was a controlled pace, one foot per step, hand gripping the railing to keep you upright 

Doyoung waits for you like your brother said, sitting on the porch swing wearing his winter jacket with his hands stuffed into the pockets, and he perks up when you come out the door 

you sit beside him, trying not to lean into him and letting the cold air warm from the tension between you. there’s a couple heartbeats of silence, your breath hanging in the air in front of you before you manage to get the words out. 

“i like you” 

silly words, immature words, not the right words for how you feel, but you can’t quite figure out what those might be. 

“it’s like mixing paint,” he says and you think maybe there really aren’t any right words, but he keeps going. “at first you think ‘wow i used way too much blue and this will never look right’ but you keep mixing it together and even though it isn’t the color you wanted it to be, you’ve found a whole new color and it changes the painting completely but it makes it so much better.” he pauses before admitting, “maybe it isn’t the perfect analogy. my point is, i wasn’t expecting you at all, but you make my life so much better.” and another couple seconds for him to remember he’s got something else to say. “oh, and i like you, too. if it wasn’t obvious."

it’s stupidly like a movie when the snow starts to fall, but you’ve been waiting far too long to kiss him, so you won’t let the feeling that this is a bad hallmark movie stop you

what does stop you is hearing half your family cheering through the window when you scoot closer to him 

(your first kiss happens a couple days later on a secluded hike in the woods) 

(a few years later at the wedding, one of your cousins pulls up footage that can only be described as stalker-like) 

and you never sleep on his crappy couch again (though you do stay over, even when it isn’t late), and he keeps doing laundry in your apartment until his lease is finally up and he moves into a bigger apartment that just so happens to have enough space for you

(oh, and it has in-unit laundry too) 

a/n: i swear i have been writing i just haven't been finishing but i got 2/3 of sending this to bestie before i realized this is a writing format so yeah. idk this is very much my delusional stream of consciousness but tell me im wrong. go ahead. tell me.

[justanotherlifeff]

Possession

[Some of ya’ll wanted an alternative ending to “Love is meaningless” and guess what? There you go. Is it happy? Hell no. I just like watching the world burn lol. There will be a 3rd part with actual smut cause now Im invested in this sooo yeahhh. But yeah, there are spoilers and Sukuna is an asshole cause he’s literally evil incarnate. I put the smut tag cause there are some mentions of sex, even if there isn’t any actual sexual description]

Love is meaningless to Sukuna precisely because he knew it. It was the epitome of weakness. How else could one describe the need to put someone else above themselves? To look for validation, praise, acceptance… those are concepts that the weak search for. The strong doesn’t ask others to bow down. The strong simply kills the ones who don’t. Not because of a fragile ego but because its fun to kill. Its fun to see these miserable humans with their ridiculous beliefs of righteousness crumble apart. He knew first hand the fickle and hypocritical nature of humans after all since he was the same once. Enlightenment to him was understanding that he needs to be above that wretched nature.

However, after a thousand years, he saw something that made him laugh at the absurdity of it. He is the king of curses, the evil incarnate, the most cruel thing to exist. And yet, reality’s idea of cruel jokes seemed to surpass the king of curses himself because there you were, going to the same Jujutsu School as the brat he was possessing, or atleast, it was your reincarnated form. How did this happen? He had some idea since you were pregnant with his child after all before you died. That child must have had immense cursed energy, which made this miracle possible a thousand years later. The timing was awfully convinient too, it almost made him wonder whether this was planned by someone to subdue his reincarnation.

It was foolish, he thought. Subduing him with some fickle idea of love? How laughable. He stopped being that person the day you died, and its not like this cheap copy even had those memories. This version of you had the same personality, the same looks, and yet, it wasn’t the same because this time, he was your enemy. Not that it mattered ofcourse. He still felt the need to own you. To have you all to himself. No, it wasn’t love. It was simply his extreme desire to take what was his. His obsession with taking everything he wants.

It did occur to him, to kill you just to spite on whoever thought it would be a funny idea to make fate play out this way. However, while he never regretted a single drop of blood that was on his hands, for some reason, deep within his twisted heart, he felt as if he would regret having your blood on his hand. Besides, you were more useful alive. He could have his fun taking you, making you remember that past whether you like it or not. No one takes away his belongings from him and he wasn’t losing you, his most precious possession, again. So he waited patiently.

He decided it would be best to not create suspicion on his obsession with you. It would be best to lull you into a false sense of security by feigning a lack of interest in you. That way, you wouldn’t stay away from Itadori, that way he can keep an eye on you, watch you through the brat’s eyes. He waited for over 1000 years, he could wait a few months more. It was difficult for him, as every time you smiled at Itadori, he wanted to kill the brat. How dare you smile at a lowly human like that? How dare you smile at anyone that wasn’t him? How dare you wear that promiscuous skirt, showing your beautiful legs to the world when it was all his alone? How dare you wear makeup to look beautiful for anyone that isn’t him? Your life didn’t belong to you after all. You were reincarnated because you beared his child back then. So how dare you pretend to have freedom when you were nothing more than a filthy human that he owns?

Sukuna is evil incarnate, but despite his many vices, he also had many qualities, patience being one of them. Despite his desire to take over Itadori’s body, bend you over and fuck the freedom out of you, he stayed calm, waiting for the perfect opportunity to take you for himself for good, without having sorcerers come after him to take you away. Would a sorcerer wish to save you if he made you a cursed spirit too? If he killed you, took your humanity from you, made you immortal and tied to him with the proper rituals, would they even want you back? Perhaps he should show you how little value you have to those jujutsu sorcerers. Perhaps, he should show you that he is the only one who sees your value, the only one who wouldn’t abandon you. No, its not out of love, ofcourse not. Its simply because he owns you, he convinced himself.

[truearchangel]

If you want my honest opinion on my Michael’s relationship with Lucifer, I would say that it is extremely and very complicated in a way that borders perhaps on strange. For a lot of people, siblings are not your be all and end all, you don’t look at your family and think I can’t live without that person. Family is there for you but it’s certainly in most cases a best friend aspect.

However, from a humans perspective to an ancient and immortal being as old as the very universe we live in, things then become a bit different and a lot more complicated.

In my story, Michael and Lucifer were created from the same star as two halves of each other. Identical in appearance and the things that they could do. Lucifer had taken on a more emotional aspect of everything that they did while Michael handled everything in a logical almost business manner. Opposites yet the same at their very core, split down the middle, the sun and the moon, yin and yang.

Lucifer was that sun, that Morning Star in Heaven, God’s favorite and everything anyone could ever want.

Michael was the moon that kept the entire place running while trying to be everything God needed and wanted.

I wrote before that they shared a room up until Lucifer’s fall from Heaven and I firmly believe that was simply because then, for them, it wasn’t strange to continue to stay in the same place for that long. They never felt the need to be apart from each other and they simply became complacent and codependent on each other. Comfortable in the situation they were in, in the way that things were, incredibly close and reliant on each other.

Twins are often very close already, the bond they share tends to run deeper than normal siblings. Then with the added fact they were the oldest, the first created in Heaven, with nothing else for so long until they started to make it themselves and God created their other siblings, all they had was each other.

When things started to change with the creation of Eden, when that shift in Lucifer started and Michael could feel and see him pulling away, it became more of desire to just—reject reality. Pretend that wasn’t happening. Turn a blind eye and ignore the entire thing. If you don’t see it, it isn’t real. If you ignore it, it might fix itself. He had the mindset that things would eventually go back to normal. That was what he hoped. What he needed.

And then the war happened and Michael broke.

He never wanted to hurt Lucifer, nothing he did was done maliciously. He never wanted to have to raise his sword against his twin. But when he watched his other siblings get cut down, when he watched the way they got hurt, when he held his dying family in his arms, he made a choice. Lucifer was never going to stop, the truth was glaringly in front of his eyes, so he stopped him physically.

And that was the final crack in his chest that broke and shattered his heart.

Michael had never quite been the same after what happened between him and Lucifer. He closed himself off more, he locked himself in his office, he distanced himself from the people in Heaven. He ignored everything that had to do with the humans, with that gift of free will, with Hell and anything about Lucifer. He shut the world out because that was easier than facing the reality that his brother was gone. That he had betrayed them and destroyed everything he cared for.

He was never angry about the apple of knowledge, he doesn’t care Lucifer gifted humanity free will. All he ever wanted was the suffering to stop and for that Lucifer paid the price.

To this day, the most important thing to him will always be Lucifer and his brother’s happiness.

Michael never wanted to become Lucifer’s enemy, it was just what God chose for them.

I have many hcs that talk about Michael and Lucifer because their broken sibling bond gives me life thank you. Most of these headcanons mostly pertain to just @thylightbringer since I know not all of them will be seen the same with other people who write Lucifer and that is fine. Michael will just never be the enemy in any Lucifer’s story because I can’t and refuse to write it that way.

The fall. | the war in heaven. | his breakdown after the fall. | his admission to not wanting to hurt Lucifer. | the apple of Eden. | and so many more

If you ever doubt he cares for Lucifer remember I’ve paid real money to prove the opposite.

All of it was made by Akari.