#seeing my art like this is always insane and a little emotional for me but it’s especially cool with the same character

[carsickcrow]

october 2022 / november 2024

[madamechrissy]

Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotage you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed- down bad) rec drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, fluff/smut AND light angst- violence, some former trauma of reader. This part- BROMANCE hehe, spanking, emotional, a LOT of violence and blood, teasing, shower sex, size kink like a MF- a little bit of everything <3 WC- 7.2k

Will be eight parts- ties into my Mob Gojo story- you'll see him and the reader from there - but you can read it alone. Art in the banner is by Sketch B on X divider by @cafekitsune

Reblogs/comments so appreciated if you enjoyy!

<<<Part Six - Playlist - Masterlist - Part eight (final)>>>

Part Seven

There is blood everywhere, everywhere Sukuna can see, as his friends, shit some of them are truly damn near his family, fight right alongside the Zenin, but the only one Sukuna is focused on is the blond man with the brown, cold eyes, the one that hurt you. The one who didn’t see what he was lucky enough to have, and never fucking deserved, you.

Naoya licks blood off his lip and ducks and dodges, slamming Sukuna against a wall, he laughs at the attempt. “You’re trying, aren’t ya? Why don’t you give the fuck up before I end your life.” Sukuna pins him now instead, Toji is sending someone flying and crashing into a crate, as you all fight in the warehouse, each hit and throw scattering goods around.

There are pounds and pounds of counterfeit jewelry being crushed under dress shoes, crunching and glinting in the dark of the room, the sound of breaking bones and grunts of pain fill the air, each hit from Sukuna is fueled by pure rage and hate. The kind that only comes from someone who’s faced with the man who’s hurt the girl he loves so much.

The one that not just had you so down on yourself, abandoned you financially, talked down to you and blew off your kid, no that’s all shit he’d certainly beat the fuck out of him for. But wanting to murder him, slit his fucking throat, comes from even more than that, the threats to you.

He’d even been running it when they met just a few minutes before this.

‘Hah, how’s my little whore doing? Ya wanna know how many times I had her, in every way? Think it won’t be long till she’s back under me-’

That was when Sukuna decided negotiations certainly wouldn’t fucking be happening, when this little prick of a man wanted to run it, there was no more hiding behind the Zenin name for him. Choso, Suguru, Satoru and Toji were all there along with many other of the families, and not only were the Zenin outnumbered, they were completely unmatched.

Certainly they had some skill and they knew how to brawl, but overwhelmingly the five men here were much better at fighting, bigger, stronger… but also, more clinically insane, and coked out. Sukuna made sure everyone was well prepared with lines and lines before they decided to do this, bloodshot eyes and batshit crazy grins adorning everyone's faces.

Not Choso on the partaking of cocaine, of course, but Sukuna quickly realizes he and his family can hold their own and then some. But no one matched Sukuna on skill or size, though Satoru and Toji came close, no, he was simply made to fight, he thrilled in it, the adrenaline coursing through his fucking veins, his ruby eyes glinting, all while  thinking of one singular thing.

You.

You’re his.

You’re his and will always be his.

Sukuna can’t have this looming over you, even if it starts a fucking war, his girl should be able to live her life without constant fear of the threat that Naoya constantly brings. As soon as Sukuna had thrown that first punch, chaos had ensued across every inch of this old, dark warehouse.

 Naoya tries to fight back, but he’s no match for the beast that’s been unleashed in Ryomen Sukuna. The fear in his eyes is clear as he sees the unbridled fury in Sukuna’s gaze, perhaps he really thought he had a chance in hell, but with every hit and kick, Naoya slowly comes to the realization, that he’s fucked.

Sukuna’s knuckles are raw, but he feels nothing but satisfaction as he lands blow after blow on Naoya’s face, the crunch of his nose - breaking again, at least he has a good surgeon- is just music to his ears. He can almost hear her voice in his head, whispering that you’re okay now, that you’re safe, that this is probably enough, but there is a louder voice.

Kill him.

He can’t because of Touma, he knows, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to, hitting him and not relenting until the blond man is on his knees, begging for mercy. Sukuna’s chest heaves with  b every breath, his heart racing with the adrenaline of the fight, his muscles screaming for a pause, but he shoves it all back, kicking Naoya to the floor and straddling him then, yanking him by his collar.

“Any last words, mother fucker?” He says with a grin, teeth just coated in blood, knife glinting when he pulls out the butterfly, silvery blade, holding the cold metal to his throat.

“Fuck, stop, stop, shit.” He grabs Sukuna’s wrist, sputtering, Satoru’s insane peal of laughter echoes, as he kicks away a mafia member, brushing off his suit. “You all are fucking insane, fuck.”

“Ya think so?” Toji asks, flipping a man right on his head, as they all look at Naoya, helpless.

“Fuck, we’ll stay out of your territory, okay?” Naoya’s desperate words just amuse Sukuna more, as he eases back the knife, holding up a hand.

“Stop.” He orders, and everyone does, much to the relief of every single Zenin member sighing, but Satoru may or may not have fake punched one to watch them jerk in fear, for the men to snicker at. Sukuna smirks at them, shaking his head, taking a breath and feeling just how sore he is, turning back to Naoya now, who exhales in relief, then Sukuna stands.

“I think we can come to an understanding, we-” Sukuna yanks him up by his collar, he’s literally dangling in the air when Sukuna plops him right on one of the crates. “Shit!���

With a smirk, he pulls out a phone from his pocket and turns his phone on, setting the screen on record. “You’re going to apologize to her.”

“The fuck I am, I already said I’d leave your territory and her the fuck alone.” Sukuna punches him once more, the sickening crack of his fist connecting echoing through the now quiet room. “Shit…”

“Say it loud, say it clear, or I’ll rip your tongue out and shove it down your throat so you can never speak your bullshit again.” Naoya’s eyes widen in horror, but he knows better than to argue at this point, it seems, the fear of dying a painful death is stronger than his pride. 

“Fine, okay, shit…” He spits out blood, a tooth along with it, making joy fill Sukuna’s heart.

It’s the simple things, you know.

Through bruised and bloodied lips, he stammers out an apology, his voice shaking, so pathetic as Sukuna videos it, just for you, his girl. The warehouse goes quiet, the other fights ceased, as the Zenin mob watches their leader fall. The Gojo and Kamo mob members, battered and bruised, look at each other with big grins, still in high spirits in comparison.

Naoya finally slumps forward, while Sukuna pockets his phone, and the Zenin mob looks to their leader, the one who’s been beaten worse than any of them, bested by a man he thought he could fuck with. It’s not just about Naoya versus Sukuna, it’s more than that, Naoya has helped lead to the Zenin weakening, and proving the Kamo and Gojo are not to be trifled with.

Sukuna leans forward, as Naoya flinches, making Sukuna even more fucking excited, grin plastering his face. “You won’t come on our territory again.”

“I won’t.”

“You won’t come near them, Touma or her, again.” Naoya laughs then, through his blood he’s damn near coughing up, so weak he looks like he’s about to collapse to the floor.

“Fuck it I don’t even want them.”

“Never fucking deserved her.” Sukuna whispers, still one fucking step away from ripping this mother fucker’s throat out, but he stops himself, standing up in a blood soaked dress shirt and slacks, sleeves rolled up to reveal much of his tattooed, bloody forearms and knuckles. “I think we’re done here.”

The warehouse door swings open as the five men and the rest of the members of the Kamo and Gojo mob walk out, letting in a rush of cool night air, Sukuna takes a breath of it, looking up at an oddly clear night for this city. He hears the distant sound of sirens, surely all the noise had made someone call.

“Time to get out before the feds come knocking.” He murmurs, as the Zenin mob retreats as well, helping their leader, who can’t even walk, but truly he’s lucky to be fucking alive.

“Coke?” Satoru offers, shaking a baggie, and Toji pulls out a bottle of liquor from the center of the limo, where the cooler sits.

“Drinks?” He suggests, but Suguru is already lighting up a blunt, smoke filling the limo of the five bruised and grinning men.

“Smoke?” He suggests, Sukuna grins then.

“All of ‘em, fuck it.”

*****

“You’re pacing baby.” Your friend murmurs, as she’s mixing up a drink in the eerily quiet club, the men have been gone for hours, and you can’t stand the sickness and anticipation in your tummy. “Sit down hunny, have a drink.”

“I can’t, I feel sick! Ugh. This is because of me.” You say in a panic, pacing back and forth more and more, she shakes her head, touching your shoulder gently. “It is all my fault, I made Sukuna have to do all this!”

“He loves you.” Her quiet words make your heart race, you hug her then, crying against her neck as she shushes you gently. “He adores you, you can just see it, I swear he does.”

“But… it’s like, what have I done to deserve him?”

“You’re pretty amazing too, you know.” You pull back with a tremulous smile, when suddenly the doors open, drawing your attention, and you exhale in relief before more panic sets in.

Sukuna is covered in blood when he walks back in the club, all of them are, your mind frantically tries to take it all in, the five bloodied men walking in, Satoru slides up to the bar, as his girl panics, cupping his face gently. Toji’s downing a shot and grimacing, Choso politely asks if there’s somewhere he can clean up, the girls start doting on him and Suguru.

But all you can see is him.

Sukuna.

The man you love, covered in more blood than all of them, his crimson eyes boring through you across the club, as you step forward, trembling as you get closer, terrified when you see his face is swelling and bruising under one of his eye, cuts all over his handsome face, you swear you can see shards of fucking glass glinting under the strobing lights.

“Sukuna…” He exhales, pulling you in close, as you look on with horror. “I need to get you cleaned up.”

“Yeah, yeah… worrying so much for me huh?” You glare, and he has the audacity to smirk. “I’m fine, brat.”

“You’re not fine. Now.” You drag him into the changing room by one of his crimson stained hands, sitting him right down in a seat, he sighs as he overtakes the tiny little thing with his huge body. “Sit there, let me clean you up.”

“Tch. It’s a scratch or two.”

“Yeah, okay monty python.”

He chuckles then, throwing his head back. “You watched that?”

“Sure I did. Sit still.” You’re dabbing at him now, with a cold wet washcloth, he sucks in a breath when you see it again, a little piece of glass. “How did you get glass in your skin, hmm?”

“Your ex may or may not have hit me with a bottle. Oooh, you look angry. So sexy, fuck.” You smack at his big tattooed hands as he tries to grip your ass.

“He what now!?” You turn and grab the first aid kit, finding antiseptic and tweezers, ready to kill Naoya if he even made it.

“He tried to fight but was failing like a little bitch. Ow!” He whines as you tweeze  out the glass, quickly cleaning the wound that’s bleeding just a bit.

“Don’t be a baby.”

“Cruel, evil woman- ow!”

“Who knew big, bad Sukuna was a baby.”

“I swear to- ah!” You’re cleaning the last of the abrasions on his face up, dabbing at it with a little cotton ball. “You’re enjoying this.”

“I am not. You’re just cute.”

“Psh, I’ll beat your backside. You done?”

“Tell me how much of this is your blood.” He chuckles now, when you lead him over to the sink, rinsing his hands off, scrubbing up the antiseptic to show his knuckles were already scabbing over.

“Most of it is their blood, don’t worry so much.” You sigh, tummy feeling sick, when you’re running a towel along his hands, taking in the damage, only to be spun now, facing the mirror, when his strong, huge body takes you over. Your eyes meet his, seeing the hunger in them, as his still wet hands slip up your skirt, and he leans over you, pressing you into the counter.

“Kuna, you’re hurt. I have to keep checking you- ngh!” Sukuna’s slipped his hand between your thighs now, while his other slides up your breasts, earning your nipples pressing out, until he holds you under your chin.

“Playing nurse is hot and all, brat, but I need more than that.” His husky tone fucks with you, as his adrenaline races through his veins.

“Is he…” You gulp a bit, and Sukuna smirks now.

“Is he dead? Go on, ask it.” You take a shaky breath, whining out when he’s slipping his fingers over your cunt, which is soaking his fingers quickly, your head falling back against his hard chest. “Me killing him get you wet?”

“N-no, you get me wet, psycho man. Answer me.” You grip his wrist, trying to halt his movements so you can focus. “Did you kill him?”

Sukuna sighs, burying his face against your neck. “Wanna see him?”

“What?” Sukuna’s chuckling now, hot against the gentle curve of your neck, pulling you even closer against him.

“He’s not dead, only because… your kid. But he’s not doing so hot.” He leans back now, pulling out his phone, showing you Naoya right there on the screen, so bloody he’s damn near unrecognizable, pressing play on the video.

“Oh my god…” You feel sick as you watch it, Toji holding his head up, as Sukuna videos it.

Go on, say sorry, say you’re so sorry, and how you’re not even good enough to breathe her air.

Sukuna’s chuckle is dark and frightening, even after he watches the video back, Naoya angrily spits, you fear you see a tooth there.

‘I’m sorry, fuck, okay?’

‘Finish the sentence.’

‘Not good enough to breathe your air… shit, I’m sorry, fuck…’

“Holy… you think…” You’re trembling in his hold, as the tears start pouring from your eyes. Sukuna pauses the video before all the carnage of just what happened to the Zenin during that fight shows. “You think it’s over?”

“Yes, baby.” Baby, he calls you baby and it ruins you. He’s cupping your face, turning you to him now, lifting you with ease and sitting you on the counter, your arms wrapping around his neck, breaths coming quicker and quicker. “He won’t touch you again.”

“Kuna…” You slam your lips on his, tears falling mixing with the coppery taste of the blood on his split lip, he pulls you against him, thighs wrapped around his hips, as you endlessly kiss, deeper and deeper. You pull back with a shaky breath, foreheads resting against each other. “But will it be a war?”

“No, they’re not coming for the Kamo and the Gojo family, we negotiated quite a deal with them all. It’s easy to negotiate when you’re losing teeth.” His devilish grin truly scares you.

“You’re psychotic you know.”

“You really haven’t seen shit yet baby.” Soon everyone is pouring in, cleaning up, Satoru is pouting like a baby, Toji is tense, the mood is overall good, but when you’re all drinking in the bar later, you and your friend helping pour them, it seems like they’re all just exhausted too.

“I lied about it being boring.” Satoru murmurs then, holding his girl’s hand carefully across the bar, she frowns in concern, leaning forward.

“It’s not boring?” She asks, and he shakes his head.

“It’s boring and pointless, and fucking stupid. But, for once, I think we did something.” She’s on his side soon, as they kiss, and the hunger they have makes the room heat up, as your eyes meet Sukuna’s knowingly.

“Satoru, why don’t you take her home.” Sukuna suggests. “Before you all just fuck right here.”

“Says you two. I don’t wanna know how many surfaces you’ve hit.” He says with a smirk, earning your gasp and Sukuna’s chuckle.

“We have not hit… many surfaces!?”

“Yet.” The room laughs quietly, and soon you’re all dispersing, you’re resting your head on Sukuna’s shoulder as he drives, it’s not too often that he’s not just taking his limo, but tonight he’s got a big hand on your thigh, pressing against you so warm, while you hug his arm to you. “You okay brat?”

“I can’t believe he was in so deep and… I didn’t know. That he was doing… fuck, trading human beings, and I was oblivious. I left because he kept cheating and was so mean to me, but… it’s hard to swallow.” Sukuna’s quiet as the two of you drive through the night in the dark, lights slowly flashing by and casting shadows across your face as he looks down for a moment.

“He probably just hit it well, it’s not like it’s your fault you didn’t know.”

“But Touma was in danger!”

“And he’s not, now he’s safe.” At the red light, glowing across his tanned skin, still covered in marks, he cups your face, tilting your chin up. “It’s not your fault.”

“How could I have been so stupid? How could I have ever seen anything but…” He cuts you off with a kiss, gentle and sweet, not like the fervent, passionate, or even brutal ones you’re used to. You exhale, leaning into the kiss.

“He had you hating yourself, I saw the end of that.” His heart breaks as he sees your lower lip tremble, his thumb brushing across it as the light turns green, he shifts his gears, driving once more, towards his penthouse - well, yours now too.

“You make me feel so loved now.” Your quiet voice makes him tense, clearing his throat just a bit.

“Ya trying to make me all sappy again, brat?” Normally you’d giggle, but you’re leaning closer, pressing a kiss on his neck.

“I love you.”

“Tch.” You just smile as you cling to him, dozing slightly, so happy he’s finally with you, so thrilled you may never have to worry about Naoya in your life again, all because of him, truly. “Gonna drool on me? If so, better be around my cock, or while I’m fucking you.”

“Kuna!” He’s smirking as you sleepily smack at his shoulder, pulling in to park now, brushing back your messy hair.

“Gonna help me clean up?” He asks softly, soon you all are sending Miwa home for the night, Touma is already fast asleep, and you’re in the shower with Sukun as he sits on the black granite bench, hands washing his smokey pink locks, while he rests his forehead on your chest, thighs spread.

“You have more bruises and cuts than you led me to believe.” You reprimand, he just looks up at you, tired eyes, his sooty lashes dripping with droplets of water, while his huge hands take over your body.

“I’ll always do anything for you.” You expected a joke or a cocky statement, not that, not the pure love and adoration in his voice, making you swallow while you rinse his hair off gently, placing the showerhead back up, entire body aching for him.

“I’ll always do anything for you.” Your murmur in return, straddling him now, knees on slippery marble, he clutches you by your ass as you do, eyes brilliant ruby as the hot spray pounds against both of your skin all over.

“The date. I still want the date.” He says softly, you giggle at it, tilting your head back when his hand drags ever so slowly across one of your breasts, squishing it in his hand as he sighs.

“I want a date too. But maybe you should heal up?”

“I feel great. Good enough for…” He’s dragging your cunt against his cock now, you cry out at the sensation, soaking wet and throbbing always for him, his piercing hits your clit as you grind, making you jerk, sensitive when he’s biting at your lips, his hands sinking into your waist. “Good enough to fuck you so good you drool, baby.”

“Fuck… please, Kuna…” He’s groaning now, reaching around and slipping two fingers deep in your soppy little hole, back arching for more as he does, scissoring them in and out so fast, you’re clinging to him tightly, tongues messy and dripping saliva as they collide.

“Want it?” He taunts, his thick, huge cock throbbing in need for you, but he loves when you’re so needy, desperate, he feels your gummy walls gripping his fingers, watches your eyes roll back, while the water falls in pretty rivulets on your pretty body, and he can’t wait to cum inside you, but not just yet. “You know what to do, brat.”

“Meanie.” You huff so cutely, making him smile, your nails are slick and pressing into his back, when he slips his fingers out now, cock teasing your entrance as he holds you up like it’s nothing.

“Gonna be bratty and not get it then.”

Your thighs shake as his tip enters, pressing inside past that tight ring of muscles, feeling your walls spasm, making him suck back a whine. “Please, Kuna, please let me feel you.”

“Fuck…” Your soft pleading ends him, how can he tease you when he’s dying to thrust inside of you, and that he does, dragging your cunt half way down his veiny length, you’re struggling to take him. “Loosen up, shit baby.”

“C-can’t, you’re t-too - ah!” You’re gasping when he stands, laying you right down on that bench, slipping out of you and shoving two fingers back in, curling them, while he kisses you again.

“Pathetic little pussy, how can she not take me by now?” He whispers, you want to scowl but fail, instead you’re drooling again while he’s curling those fingers inside.

“Too big.” He smirks at that, your eyes narrow for a moment before you’re cumming all down his thick digits, muscles loosening just enough, orgasm washing through your entire body in waves. “Kuna!”

“There she goes, she’s so needy, tsk.” Sukuna picks you up, throwing you like some little doll with his huge arms, until he’s got you against the wall, shoving his cock to the fucking hilt. Your cunt tries to accommodate, gushing down his length, as he moans, feeling his tip against your cervix. “Fuck, feel her. Milking me already?”

“Want all your cum in me, Kuna.” Your whine is shut off with a scream as he slams his curved cock right up inside you again, you’re trying to hold back the noise, but steadily failing.

“Shh, brat.” He’s smirking now, and covering your mouth with two fingers. “I’m so not getting cockblocked. Hush.”

“S-sorry, fuck- ah!” You’re burying your face against his neck, biting his slick hot skin, as his tattooed abdomen flexes, fucking you more firmly against the wall, and the two of you lose yourselves, more and more.

The water pounding, the steam floating, the fragrant smells of the body wash all mixing with the taste of each other, your eyes shut you can just feel him, all his power his strong, huge body holds, as he uses you. And you’re just clinging to him, whimpering, while his tip drags on your spot, while his piercing hits your cervix now, and you can barely hold back.

“Gonna fill you up s’good, brat, gonna fuckin pour me out, huh?” You’re nodding, struggling to focus, head falling back to look into those dilated eyes. “All mine, never going anywhere, are you?” You hear the desperation as he clings, as he fucks into your slick little cunt, and you’re nodding weakly, feeling him take you over.

“Never, going anywhere. Yours.” Sukuna slams into you once more, rolling his hips just so, you’re cumming right with him, his hot gooey load pouring inside your slick, fluttering walls, when he drinks up your kisses, holding you so tight you can scarcely breathe.

“Mine, all mine, aren’t you brat?” You’re nodding weakly, so full of him, his cock just spurting even more deep against you, as he rests his head on yours, struggling to catch his own breath.

“Yours, only yours.” Your desperate kisses slowly ease, as the two of you wash each other, and soon you’re drying up, checking on Touma, who’s still fast asleep in his bed, Sukuna watches as you give him a kiss good night, crossing his arms at the doorway while you tuck him in.

It makes the entire thing worth it all, when you shut the door quietly and he picks you up, you giggle as you cling to him. “Gotta carry you everywhere.”

“You want to! Big strong Kuna.”

“Psh.” He pulls you against him, exhaustion hitting alone with your fingers gently stroking his hair, as he clings to your warm body, so small compared to him yet here he is, holding on to you, to make him feel like only you can.

“Where is this date?” You ask softly, listening to his breathing slow, feeling his tense muscles relax just a bit in your hold, with your soothing touch.

“Fiji.” Your lips part in shock.

“We can’t just go to Fiji!?”

“Why not?” He scowls up at you now, your lips twitch in amusement, earning his deeper glare. “I can take you wherever the fuck I want, you’re mine.”

“I can’t just leave Touma for Fiji!”

“Miwa-”

“No, Kuna, I so am not.”

“You’re bratty.” He’s smacking your ass so hard you yelp, stinging and radiating with his big ass hand rocking through you.

“Shit, ow!” You bite him now, but you just get his cock twitching again, as your teeth sink deep, and he yanks your hair.

“Brat, swear to god you’re asking for it. Where do you want to go then!?”

“Like, dinner?”

“The fuck - all that I did and I get a dinner date? No.”

“Kuna…”

“Don’t you Kuna me, I demand  better date. Gonna have me acting like I’m fucking broke.” You roll your eyes at him, sighing, now rubbing your stinging ass cheek and wincing.

“Dinner somewhere fancy.”

“Satoru bought his date a fucking boat, I need at least a helicopter, or a private plane-”

“So it’s a competition?” You ask, amused while Sukuna leans up on an elbow now, as you burst into a fit of giggles, now on your back, hand stroking his stubbled cheek.

“Of course it’s a fucking competition.” You can’t stop your laughter now, to his anger, just growing at you.

“But they don’t… um…” You take a breath then, getting a little more serious. “I have Touma, he’s part of my life. We can’t be quite so carefree, like Satoru and his girl,  I’m afraid.” Sukuna exhales now, realizing your words.

You love your son so much, and he’s so happy that you do, but sometimes it drives him crazy, he has to always share his favorite person. “I guess we will bring him and Miwa to Fiji then.”

“Shit, you’re serious?” He huffs, pulling your body impossibly close, leaning down over you, lips ghosting over your collarbone.

“That way we still get time alone, but also with him.” You feel your heart fill with so much love it makes you want to burst, he sighs when he sees your eyes, glassy even in the dark of the night, the moonlight filtering in and casting shadows on your pretty face, illuminating those tears. “You cry too much.”

“That’s so sweet, oh my god.” He doesn’t answer, he just keeps pecking kisses, along your neck, and your collarbone, huge hands taking your waist, kissing even lower, to your rising breasts.

“I love you.”

“I know. Shush.” You’re whining out when he kisses down a path to your nipple, already perked up and ready, pulling down the top when the door knocks and he groans, scowling at it.

“Mama! Papa!”

“Come in!” You’re adjusting your shirt, ignoring your boyfriend’s honestly adorable pout as Touma bursts in, running over to the edge of the bed.

“What, kid? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” He demands, crossing his strong arms over his chest now.

“Sorry, Papa Kuna!” Sukuna grimaces once more at the name, as Touma reaches up his little hands, opening and closing them, he turns over and rests his chin on his hand, raising a brow.

“Is that the name we’re really going with?” Touma is bouncing up and down, you giggle as you watch, rolling over on your side now, a hand on Sukuna’s bare shoulder.

“Can I sleep in your bed Papa Kuna!?”

“God no.”

“But, PapaKuna…” You earn his glare as you rest your chin on his shoulder now, pecking a kiss on his cheek. “He’s so cute though.”

“No sleeping in my bed, kid.” Touma pouts now, lip trembling, making Sukuna falter, he looks just like you, dammit. “Don’t you give me those puppy dog eyes, you learned that from your mom, huh?”

“But your bed, it looks so cool! Please!”

“Go to your bed!”

“I’ll go to sleep with him then.” You go to sit up, and Sukuna rolls his ruby eyes, pressing you back down, his glare even deeper.

“You’re going nowhere.” He sits up now, the sheet falling, revealing his bare, tattooed body, Sukuna looks even more of a huge, huge man when he picks up itty bitty Touma from the floor, unceremoniously plopping him down between you two. “There, just one night, though, got me kid?”

“Yay! Big bed, big bed!” Touma’s smacking a kiss on his cheek, Sukuna’s wiping it off with a disgusted look, then softens as Touma kisses your cheek now. “Mama, I get to sleep in the big bed!”

“You do, it’s super comfy too.” You’re tucking him under the covers now, as he snuggles up, and Sukuna crosses his arms, earning your smile.

“Papa Kuna, lay down.” Your words have Touma laughing, as he reaches his little hand out and tugs Sukuna down towards him, until he reluctantly lays his head on one of the black satin pillows, and Touma hugs him around the neck.

“Who’s clingier, you or the kid?” He looks over Touma’s head at you, you lay down now as well, an arm around Touma, resting on Sukuna’s waist over the soft, weighted blanket.

“It’s a toss up.” You press a kiss on Touma’s head, brushing his hair back to see his adorable face, already content with a smile. “Do you like Papa Kuna better than Mama!?”

“No, but he’s so comfy!”

“Tch. Comfy.”

“He is comfy, huh?” You wink at Sukuna, whose hands are just awkwardly up as the kid snuggles against his chest.

“Your hands are cold, shit!”

“Sorry Papa.” He just hums and snuggles closer, the moment making you fall ever deeper in love, Sukuna’s got his arm around you both then, with an annoyed sigh, the three of you snuggled in the enormous bed. It feels…

Perfect.

“Kid, ya wanna go on a plane ride?” He asks, and Touma yawns, nodding.

“A plane!? Planes are cool!”

“There you go, we’re going to Fiji.” Sukuna smirks, clearly happy he has won, as Touma now turns and cuddles over to you, looking up at you and smiling happily.

“A plane!” He’s so excited, but so tired, precious as you stroke his cheek. “Mama, we'll have fun on a plane.”

“Then I guess we will have to all go, hmm? And bring Miwa?” Your words just excite Touma more, you watch Sukuna’s full lips twitch in amusement.

“Miwa too, it’s going to be so fun. When will we go?” He turns his head to Sukuna, as he snuggles closer, and Sukuna’s hand is gently brushing your hair back off your face.

“What about this weekend?”

“That soon?” You ask softly, as Touma is dozing off, little fingers gripping your pajama top, you rest your chin on his head, eyeing Sukuna now. “We don’t have to go right now, we have all the time in the world.”

“I need… a break.” You see then, how exhausted he really is, and shit, so are you after all of this. “And I want to take my girl out.”

“Your girl.” Your whisper is met with his kiss, he is dying to hold you in his arms, but the little kid in the middle doesn’t bother him honestly, in fact he enjoys watching his face smile in his sleep more than he’d admit, affection flowing for the extension of you. His gaze goes back to you, your lashes lowering, casting shadows against your cheeks. “I like that.”

“Being my girl? Of course you do.” He kisses you once more, relaxing more and eyeing Touma now. “Does he… ever bring him up?”

You tense a bit, shaking your head. “He did a little before, but not since we’ve been with you. He doesn’t really know him. But now he has you, we both do. Papa Kuna.”

“Ugh.” You’re laughing softly as he kisses you again, sweeter. “Only once is he sleeping in my bed.”

“Only once, sure.” Sukuna’s half assed glare just makes you smile, as you stroke his soft pink locks back. “I’m excited for Fiji.”

“You better be. Now, get to sleep.”

“Work tomorrow?”

“Change of position for you.”

*****

One Week Later

“Look at Pookie, she’s a baddie.” Satoru’s husky voice hits you as you’re counting money in Sukuna’s office later that day, legs crossed in a little black business outfit that Sukuna must have custom made, because it’s just too slutty honestly, and fits you far too well. When he’d seen you in it, he’d about lost his mind, the memory makes your cheeks heat up.

“Hey, Satoru.” You smile now, standing up and hugging him, you touch his cheek with a frown, seeing the blooming purple bruise along his cheek. “You okay?”

“I’m good, promise. My girl said I’m hot with this apparently.” You giggle then, shaking your head as he presses a kiss on the backs of your fingers.

“Of course you are, I heard you bought her a boat for a date huh?” He grins, wiggling his brows now, as the two of you walk over to Sukuna’s desk, and you divvy out a huge stack, handing it over.

“Of course I bought a boat, I needed to one up your date, no offense. Ah, thank you for the money, mommy.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You snort in laughter at him, sitting back down, taking out your pen and scribbling information down. “That’s your cut for the most recent run, not that your little rich ass needs any.”

“Hey now, you’re getting mean, don’t let Kuna make you too bratty.”

“What now?” You glare at him as he leans back, lowering his shades, crossing his leg at the ankle. “You’re the only brat here.”

“Meanie!”

“Arguing, huh?” Toji walks in now, winking a dark green eye at you, taking the huge stack from your hands. “Thanks doll.”

“Of course.” You’re scribbling more down now, as Suguru walks in, yawning, and you study the men’s faces, still bruised and cut, making you sigh.

“Hello, love.” Suguru takes the stack as you hand it out, frowning at you. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel you’re all hurt because of me.” You bury your face in your hands now, taking a shaky breath as the men frown, looking at you.

“No, it’s not you, it’s the shit Zenin, okay?” Toji’s hand comes to your shoulder, warm and comforting.

“Still, you’re all beat up.” You lift your head, tears falling when Choso walks in, you’re sniffling as you go to hand him his cut.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, violet eyes glimmering, as if he feels your emotions. You nod with a tremulous smile.

“We get beat up all the time, part of the job description, sweets.” Satoru tries to ease your worries, but it just doesn’t sink in.

“You’re promoted, look at you.” Choso’s words make you smile a little more firmly, dabbing at your eyes now.

“I am, from now on I’ll be handling all of the money, I actually took accounting believe it or not.”

“A stripper accountant? Hot.” Suguru makes you giggle, when Sukuna walks in, you realize then you’re in a room full of mobsters over six feet tall, all with bruised knuckles and abrasions, and you’re the one holding all their money. There’s some power to it, what Sukuna’s given you, as he eyes all of the men, too close for his comfort.

“She’s not stripping anymore, she can manage the girls and the money.” He strides forward, walking around the desk now, lifting you from the seat to sit in the chair instead, yanking you down on his lap.

“Then why am I wearing office strip clothes?” You tease, he grins, eyeing the amount of cleavage hungrily.

“It’s the uniform, brat.”

“Uh huh! Anyway, they were just trying to make me feel better.” Sukuna’s hand comes to grip your waist, as he eyes the ledger you’ve been filling.

“She thinks it’s her fault, you should make her feel better, Kuna.”

“I swear to god, Satoru.” Satoru’s laughing as he wiggles his fingers in a farewell, and Sukuna’s alone with you now, in the big office he’s basically now set up for you as well, the door clicking quietly, when his thumb swipes a tear on your cheek. “You know how to make me jealous.”

“Oh stop, they were just being sweet.”

“Psh, sweet mobsters, what’s next?”

“You’re the sweetest.”

“That’s it.” You gasp when he’s got you bent over, yanking up the mini skirt that is barely covering your ass, watching it bounce and caressing your ass over the dark fishnets you wear, before smacking the fuck out of it.

“Ah!”

“Calling me sweet, brat? How sweet am I?” He’s smacking your other cheek, stinging so bad, but you feel the wetness drooling against your panties, biting your lower lip to hold back a cry.

“I’m an account manager now, Mr. Sukuna. I’m complaining to HR.” You tease, grinning over your shoulder, he raises one of those brows, leaning over you now, one hand gripping yours over the cool wood of the desk.

“Toji is HR. What’s he gonna say?” You giggle, but it’s cut off when he’s smacking you right between your thighs, exhaling against your neck, and the sweet ache dulls to a throbbing need.

“Toji cannot be HR, maybe Choso. He’s so cute you know- ow!”

“That’s it. I’m breaking out the whip.”

“Kuna!”

“You’re a brat - f-fuck…” He’s trailing off when you’re arching your ass up, pressing against his growing length, eyeing him.

“No one’s as sexy as my Kuna. Papa Kuna.”

“I’m done.” Sukuna pulls open a drawer, you flush when you see it, a little black leather flogger, then you glare.

“Who’d you use that on, Candy?” He grins now, standing tall and pressing you down by the back of your neck.

“Arch your ass up, brat.” His murmur is met with your immediate response, arching for him, despite you running your mouth, you want it. “Jealous of Candy, how can you be? Have you seen yourself?”

“If the whip touched her I swear- mnh!” He taps you with it gently, a low throaty laugh, wrapping his hand around your neck as he gently smacks the other side of your ass cheek, making your tummy clench.

“I like you jealous, it’s sexy… just like this outfit is ending me, look too fucking good in it, brat.”

“You want me all slutty, hmm?”

“Just for me.” His possessive tone sends shivers through you, he’s smacking your cunt lightly, stinging and making you wetter, before he presses the leather against your clit over dripping wet panties, just when the door knocks and he groans out his frustration, your little giggle earns you a sharp bite on your neck. “I’ll finish this later, just wait.”

“I’m terrified, Papa Kuna.” He puts the whip up, adjusting your skirt before he sits back down, pulling you right on his thigh, exhaling at the heat he feels, his arm wrapping around your waist, hand right on your tummy.

“Gonna have you so full of me.” His whisper in your ear has you shivering, biting your lip, he watches with a cocky grin as the knock starts again. “Come on in, then, shit.”

“You’re so friendly, you know.” Toji walks in then, frowning over at Sukuna, and you feel the energy shift.

“What’s wrong?” You ask softly, Toji sighs then.

“I may need some help with something.” You look at Sukuna, nodding and walking away, touching Toji’s shoulder gently, earning his little smile.

“It better be good, just had my girl bent over my desk.” Sukuna leans back, crossing his arms, legs spread, as Toji shuts the door behind him, staring at it for a moment.

“That shot girl…”

“You think she’s hot?”

“She’s… I need to know… about her.” Sukuna snorts a bit then, leaning forward on his hand. “Yeah she’s hot, okay?”

“I didn’t realize I’m running a matchmaking service. I should charge you.” Toji snorts, sitting down across from him now. “Shit you’re serious?”

“Just want info. I helped you  plenty, ya owe me something.”

“Shit, alright, but I swear if you interrupt me fucking again, I’m gonna take you the fuck out.” Toji chuckles, and Sukuna starts wrapping up the rest of the money. “What did you wanna know?”

Later on, as you both are overseeing the club, Sukuna finds you again, with the strobing lights going, the music reverberating through your bodies. There are dancers everywhere, in various stages of undress, cocaine being sold with every fucking shot, this is not ordinary life, but it is your ordinary life now, the hustle of it all, the thrill when his hands are on your waist.

“Toji’s down bad.” He says, and your brows raise in surprise.

“Toji Fushiguro!?”

“Mmhmm. He’s gonna be the next lovesick fool. God, look at Gojo.” You giggle as you see him, cupping his girl’s face, looks so intense they could fill an entire fucking room.

“Let them be happy, you crab.”

“Crab!?”

“Mmhmm. We’re happy. Yeah?” Your pretty smile ends him, as he pictures just everything he wants from you.

A whole fucking life with you.

“Ready for that trip tomorrow?” He asks, hand entwining with yours, turning your chin up as he hugs you from behind.

“I can’t wait, Kuna.”

A/N- Toji's story is up nextttt - preview here. And ofc we will get mob Gojo chap 4 Next (Losing Control Now) Next chap is the last of their storyyy, I've really had fun, ty for those who have loved on this story with me! <3

Taglist #1- @naina326 @1worm1 @yenayaps @shokosbunny @sukubusss @msniks @kittyyyyykats @nyxly1412 @trashsuarecan @dumbbunny98 @monster-effer @tojis-ball-sack @tangsakura @friesnkwtchup @lhhlver @attackonnat @moonchhu @mat-mat-mat @cherryjain17 @havkjhdecs @stargirl-mayaa @the-dark-creature @lulunx @saitamaswifey @spacefae-x @deitysdream @sorahatake @gojoscumslut @stainednailpolishremover @kidd3ath @clp-84 @rinkomei @catastayy @oneirataxiaa @inthedarkshadows000 @travistheaussie @cold-blooded-girls @emi311 @blublublubby @fluttershyfangs @actuallynarii @7thsthings @ilovemeni @erluu @for-hearthand-home @angellliqua @mai-505 @suguru-nugget

[jymwahuwu]

BARKINGN WOOF WOOWF DOES HE LIKE DOGS?? I CAN BARK!! GOOD HEAVENS MR. RECA. MISTER MISTER!! HELLOOO SAILORRRR!!

cough cough, my apologies for that outburst but here are my thinking thoughts on Mr. Reca..

Thinking of him holding you in a headlock to make sure the camera could capture your face. Maybe press down on your tongue with some of his fingers so the camera can capture those lil mewls and such.

He loves to keep going until he sees that doe-eyed blank stare you get whenever he goes too far. Face tear-stained while you drool mindlessly against his fingers. In fact, he always tries to get that one clip in whenever he wants to record(which is always.)

Bondage but it's him tying you up with old film from your previous commercial/scenes of you in other movies. Just so he can see the before and after his special films. He loves you dearly, look at how footage he kept of you from your previous acts!!

(Also on a more romantic topic, thinking him of making roses out of his favorite film tapes of you on the first date. You don't know because it's pitch black but they're actually from the films that you have acted as a romantic love interest. He's very sweet..when he's not insane me think.)

I passed out…Mr. Reca…his movie-related kink, and the way he expressed his love…😩💖💖💖

cw: yandere, dub-con, obsession, humiliation, oral sex, ooc because the official plot has not been released yet

Headlock may be a little rough, but that's the way to get your face on camera! He enjoys making low-budget movies for his own entertainment, without any regard for commerce but only his art and desires. The camera is right in front of you. Are you a little too shy? His arms were draped across your neck, holding your face in place as you bounced on his cock. Now you can't avoid the camera no matter what. He presses his thumb against your tongue as you swallow those sobs. No reason to hide them!

Mr. Reca doesn't show restraint. He pushes you to your limits to see how far you can go. Disappointing that you only need 5-6 orgasms to be brainless. The dazed look on your face is priceless (eyes melting out of focus, tears all over your face, and trembling legs. No quick reaction, just a subconscious whimper as your lips wrap around the cock). He often fails to part with these precious films and adds plots that have no obvious connection. In a movie about human loneliness in the universe, the scene of your orgasm is played. This is what happens at film festivals and cinemas. Anyway, if the audience complains, he will say it is a montage.

He keeps every movie that includes you. Those are his treasures. Even with the technology here, he still keeps these physical movie discs in his collection box. There are handwritten marks on it, such as: "1:15:32 blowjob part", "A must-see during the holidays", "3 hours without breaks version" and so on.

This stems from Mr. Reca's romantic moment. He created a CD collection of movies about you, decorated with fresh flowers and a cosmic gemstone.

Tucked inside is a card:

"To my favorite actor, legend, and sun. (Beautiful cursive writing, but at the last word, the person who wrote it seemed a little emotional, and the ink melted) Only when the sun shines on him, the moon will glow.”

[rockpaperimpala]

So about Netflix's the Last Airbender....

I am literally so confused you guys. You made me think I would HATE this show. And I LOVED it. Me. Known perfectionist and hater.

Katara was lovely. Yes, she started as a more soft spoken character than her cartoon version, but she was still passionate and hopeful throughout, just visibly unsure of herself. I think people were thrown off by this actress' natural way of expressing herself, which is Different from animated katara for sure, but not bad. Then she spends the whole season growing in Confidence and Fire. I Adored her fight with Paku, it really did feel like a payout of the whole season's development, and the bending kicked ass!

The Bending Kicked ass!!! The martial arts was fun and fast and creative and exciting! It looked SO good. That alone would be enough reason for me to watch and enjoy any show.

Zuko's actor was fantastic. He really captured the rage and confusion of this 16 year old banished prince. And there were so many Added moments between him and Iroh wich to me enriched their relationship. Like YES! This is why I'm watching, to see more of them, to see things done a little differently.

Iroh facing the consequences of his actions at Ba Sing Se!! That's what I'm here for!

Zuko's relationship with the men on his ship! That's what I'm here for!

The Extra layers we get to Ozai manipulating his children!

Also no one is talking about Admiral Zhao, who I had SO much fun with. I feel like they slightly fleshed out his character in a really dramatic way, really developing the hubris and frankly insane grasping ambition of someone who would kill the moon. I completely enjoyed this wilder, less controlled version of him, who comes up through the season from basically nothing and no one!

I am OBSESSED with King BUMI and his anger and disillusionment with the world! Like this was SO real. Living a hundred years of futile war would do that!!!! It is one of my favorite changes to the whole series. This new layer of emotion and character depth is what I'm here for!

Sokka was SO funny. He literally had me laughing out loud so often. That actor GETs Sokka, and GETS the way his humor is delivered. And is also able to tap into the more vulnerable side of him. People said he was "obsessed" with leadership. WHAT? That is a young person trying desperately to do his best and to try and find his place in the world, to figure what he has to offer. I loved his pride at hearing the Mechanist say that he would make a good engineer, and the sweetness of the moment that Yue's father says that he can be a hero without being a warrior. Sokka does so much growth in this series, in understanding himself and life.

And his chemistry with Suki was adorable!! I even like him and Yue (who was a totally unexpected sweetheart, despite her terrible wig)!! Like he has that same ability that Sokka has in the original to Connect with people.

Aang was great! He WAS fun loving and sweet and funny. I don't know what you guys wanted. Cartoons are always bigger and more exaggerated than live action. People's eyes swell up an, birds fly around their heads, and there are funny sound effects. That larger than life quality is the strength of animation! You have to look for different strength in live action. Like the SUBTLETIES of the acting choices. This little actor brought so much kindness, innocence, and strength to Aang.

And I FELT his frustration at being asked to do this at 12, his fresh hope anytime it looked like someone more experienced would be able to help him and no one did, and that's why he didn't learn waterbending this season, because he kept waiting for an freaking ADULT to show him the way, to help him carry this immense burden, but every adult he meets asks him for help instead, asks him to carry it himself, and then the finale hits and he realizes that there won't be any adults helping, he does have figure this out himself, and he makes the hard choice, takes on responsibility more than his years and offers himself to the ocean spirit, and he might have been lost entirely if not for Katara!

And that counter running theme to the show pays off: that he doesn't have to do it alone. He may not have more experienced guidance, because the adults have let him down again and again, but his friends will be with him, and they will figure it out together!

This is there throughout the series! Katara tells him this about learning waterbending, when he says he still wants to wait. Bumi tells him this in the palace at Omashu, and Aang sees the faith he has in his friends repaid!

I like these changes! And the show still found time for silly fun adventures and character building moments.

The show was never going to be the animated original. That is already a Masterpiece, and it frankly did NOT need to be adapted at all. I did not WANT a live action adaptation. I was adamantly convinced I would hate it. But the changes that they netflix show gave are what I Iike most about it. If I want to see Zuko say "you rise with the moon, I rise with the sun," I will go watch the animated original, because that version is perfect. And now, if i want to see Zuko say "Lu ten would have been proud to have you as a father," and see iroh pull him into a tight hug, I can watch this live action version, which is very good too. I'm going to disagree with most of the people on here and say that the Netflix's Avatar: The Last Airbender, DOES capture the heart of what we liked about the original show. It's spirit, fun, excitement, and characters. And the changes made are the reason we should be watching.

[linkspooky]

Are You Satisfied?

As you might have heard chapter 236 of Jujutsu Kaisen ends with the death of Gojo Satoru. The fandom is making a pretty big deal about it. As someone who predicted from the beginning that Gojo was going to lose against Sukuna, the reaction is fascinating to me. This is perhaps the most controversial chapter of Jujutsu Kaisen I've ever seen. So I've decided to throw my hat into the ring.

The central theme of Jujutsu Kaisen is death, so the death of one of the main characters isn't too surprising, but what does Gojo's death mean for the story? What does it say about his character?

As I said above I am a little bit shocked by the extreme controversy over Gojo's death. Gojo was never going to win the fight in the first place, because Jujutsu Kaisen is a story and the story would be over if he defeated Sukuna. He'd easily be able to take care of Kenjaku afterwards and the main conflcit would be resolved. Would it really be an interesting story if Gojo one shotted the villains while the kids just wathced on Television?

The story is also not about Gojo, it's about the students. Gojo may think he's the protagonist of reality but he's not the protagonist of the story.

Once again, Jujutsu Kaisen is a story and stories have themes. We may grow personally attached to characters, but characters are just narrative tools to convey the themes of a story, no different from prose, dialogue, and art. Characters are a tool to be used well or used poorly, and sometimes yes that means killing them. Whether Gojo's death was naratively satisfying though isn't the purpose of this post though we're only asking what does it mean?

Finally, Jujutsu Kaisen is not only a fictional story, it's specifically a tragedy. Full disclosure, it's a manga about death.

The Protagonist of a Tragedy

So, number one shout out to me for making this post 4 months ago where I called the way Gojo would end the fight.

Excuse me while I fist pump for calling it!

The question on everyone's minds is why does one of the most powerful characters in the manga die offscreen in a pretty humiliating way, cut in half and helpless on the ground just like Kaneki. The reason Gojo didn't get a more heroic (or cooler) death is because we're not reading My Hero Academia, this is not a story about heroes or even a typical Shonen manga it is a tragedy.

In poetics Aristotle defines tragedy as:

"an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude; in language embellished with each kind of artistic ornament, the several kinds being found in separate parts of the play; in the form of action, not of narrative; through pity and fear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions" (51).

To paraphrase a tragedy is about human action, actions characters make in a tragedy often have dire consequences. One of the most common consequences if the reversal of a hero's fortune, a hero of a tragedy usually starts out on top and ends up on the bottom because of the bad choices they make. If in normal shonen manga characters overcome their flaws through effort and persistence, in Jujutsu Kaisen we see characters more often than not lose to their flaws.

The reason I posted that Kaneki panel specifically is because it was a brilliant moment of narrative punishment for Kaneki's central character flaw. Kaneki the hero's main flaw is that he always fights alone, and he constantly makes that same choice over and over again to fight alone. One of the characters helpfully explains it as well.

Stories are primarily about change. If a character doesn't change they're not serving the plot, unless that specifically is the point. People have pointed out how abrupt it is for Gojo to get sealed in Shibuya, get let out, and then immediately die afterwards but that's kind of the point. Gojo made more or less the exact same choice (he asked for Utahime's help for a buff but otherwise fought the entire battle himself). The definition of insanity and what not, why would doing the same thing over and over again net him a different result?

Not only did Gojo choose to fight alone, but as I've been hammering on and on about in previous meta the entire fight Gojo cared more about fighting a strong opponent then he did saving Megumi, the child he was responsible for.

Jujutsu Kaisen is not a typical shonen manga where everything is resolved by beating a strong villain in a fight. That's specifically why I used the Tokyo Ghoul reference, because the reason Kaneki is defeated offscreen like that is because he thought the world worked like a shonen manga. He has a fantasy sequence where he's fighting Juzo in a shonen battle tournament like this is Yu Yu Hakusho right before it snaps back to reality and he's limbless on the ground.

Gojo is a major character in the manga Jujutsu Kaisen, literally "Sorcery Fight" and he is the best sorcerer in the whole world. His entire identity revolves around being a sorcerer. Since he is so good and beloved at what he does, he thinks that everything is resolved by exorcising a curse or defeating a strong opponent. He has basically no identity outside of that. Which is why when he's fighting the possessed body of his student, a person he's been mentoring since childhood his priority is not to save Megumi but to beat a strong opponent. Gojo is a sorcerer, before a human being. That's who he is, that's who he always has been since day one.

I think part of the negative fan reaction comes from fans being really attached to this scene in the manga and deciding Gojo's entire character revolves around being a good mentor figure to children.

Which is just incorrect, Gojo's entire character revolves around being the strongest. On top of that though, Gojo can care about children and also care about being the strongest he can care about multiple things at once and have those things contradict each other because humans are complicated. I'd point out even in this panel where he's stating motivation he's not trying to raise these kids up into being healthy adults, he wants them to be strong Jujutsu Sorcerers. Even when he's raising kids, his intention is to turn them into Jujutsu Sorcerers because everything in Gojo's mind revolves around Jujutsu Sorcery. Gojo does not exist outside of the world of sorcerers. Gojo may be the chosen one but he'd never be able to hold down a job at Mcdonalds.

I think in general readers put more investment in the things characters say out loud, rather than their actions. You can say one thing and do another. I can say "I should never eat sweets again I'm going to improve my diet", and then go and eat ice cream five hours later. Gojo can state out loud his intention to foster children and protect their youths, but then fail to properly do that in the story. Characters are not always what they say they are, that's why they're interesting to interpret. This isn't me calling the readers stupid, just pointing out that Gojo is made up of contradictions. He wants to get rid of the old guard and replace them with something new, but Gojo IS THE OLD GUARD.

If the culling games arc has shown us one thing, it's that ancient sorcerers brought to the modern age do not care that much about human life on an individual level, they are all of them egoists. There's a reason Gojo resembles someone like Sukuna more than he does any other character in the manga. I'm not saying Gojo is exactly like Sukuna, he's far more altruistic and uses his genuinely noble ideals but at the same time Sukuna is a shadow archetype to Gojo he represents Gojo's flaws. The flaws that Gojo succumbs to in tragic fashion.

Which if you believe that Gojo genuinely does love his students, and the ideal he's fighting for is to raise up a better generation and allow them to live out their youths, then Gojo throughout the entire Sukuna fight is acting against those ideals. He cares far more about fighting Sukuna then he does saving Megumi, it's shown over and over again in the battle, Megumi is an afterthought to him. If Gojo care moredefeating the big bad and saving the world is more important than helping a child that Gojo is responsible for then Gojo is acting against his stated principles. Why should Gojo win the fight when he's fighting for all the wrong reasons?

Tragedies are like visual novels, if you make the wrong choice the novel will give you a red flag. If you ignore the red flag then you get locked into the route with the bad ending. Gojo always fights alone. Gojo only ever fights for himself, even if he's using that selfishness in support of a more noble ideal like creating a better generation of sorcerers. If Gojo consecutively makes the same changes then in a tragedy he's not going to be rewarded for it.

Gojo wants the old generation out and the new generation in, but Gojo resembles the old generation too much. Old sorcerers like Hajime and Sukuna respect him, Hajime argues that Gojo being able to fight for his pride is far more important than him living to the end of the battle when Yuta wanted to interfere and help him.

Gojo's death isn't a surprise curve ball that Gege is throwing us for shock value, it's a result of his choices throughout the manga. A manga about change, and the change between generations is not going to punish a character for remaining roughly the same. Of course you might find it disappointing that Gege didn't give Gojo the chance to grow and change and experience a character arc like Megumi or Yuji, but Jujutsu Kaisen is a tragedy, and the way Gojo's arc ended is consistent with what Gege wrote.

Jujutsu Kaisen is not just a tragedy though, it's a manga about death. The manga begins with Yuji's grandfather warning him not to die alone the way that he did. His grandfather's dying words are what motivate Yuji throughout the beginning of the manga as he's searching for a "proper" death.

One of the major themes of Yuji's character is a contemplation of death. He accepts that death is inevitable, so he wants to save them from the gruesome deaths they'd experience if they became victims to curses and allow them to have a more satisfying death. Yuji's grandpa died an unsatisfying death because he died alone in a hospital room. Yuji even tries to make his own death a satisfying one because he believes by dying to seal away Sukuna he'll reduce the total number of casualties to curses.

Jujutsu Kaisen keeps investigating the theme of death and what exactly would make for a satisfying death. At one point it's all but stated that death is the mirror that makes humans analyze their lives.

When Yuji fails to save Junpei from the "unnatural death" it calls into question whether or not his goal of saving people from unsatisfying deaths and the gruesome deaths caused by curses is even feasible. Nanami even says that Yuji might not be able to accomplish his goal and warns him away from the path.

We see repeated unsatifying deaths in the manga, each time someone reflecting on their deaths that they weren't able to get what they wanted out of life. This list comes via @kaibutsushidousha by the way I'm quoting them.

Nanami's a character who chose to work as a sorcerer because he didn't want to evade the responsibility of doing all you can to help people, he wanted to believe he's somewhere where he's needed. He never runs away from responsibility like Mei Mei does so he quite literally works himself to death, living and dying as a sorcerer. Nanami or Gojo's dying hallucination of Nanami even says as much, his death is the result of him choosing to go south and returning to be a sorcerer.

Maki chose revenge against the Zen'in over her sister, and as a result Mai is dead. Maki has all the power in the world now, her revenge complete but she's left with a sense of "now what?" She's as strong as Toji now but she failed to protect her sister, and it's the result of the choices she made. Maki's reflection isn't triumph, it's "I should have chosen to die with her."

Even Yuji himself is robbed of his narrative purpose. The manga began with Yuji saying he wants to choose how he's going to die and he'll die taking out Sukuna with him so he can reduce the number of people killed by curses in the world. Both of those things are thrown in Sukuna's face. Number one the amount of people Yuji can save by permanently killing Sukuna is now a moot point because he let Sukuna rampage in Shibuya.

Number two, Sukuna isn't even in Yuji anymore. To build on what Comun said though, this repeated tragedy has a purpose to it and understanding requires understanding that Jujutsu Kaisen is an existentialist manga. Existentialism is basically a school of philosophy centered around the question of "Why do I exist?"

There's nothing about the invetability of death to make you question why you're alive in the first place. In the myth of Sispyhus, Albert Camus boils down all of philosophy to one question.

"There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy. "

All of philosophy is should I shoot myself in the head or should I keep living? Everything comes after that question, which is why in Jujutsu Kaisen a lot of the characters motivations revolve around them contemplating death. Sorcerers exist in a world where they can die any moment, and as Gojo says most of them die alone. It might be the nature of sorcery itself that causes so many people to die, not only are they dying because they are trapped in an uncaring system, but the characters themselves aren't really attempting to live outside of it. They live and die as sorcerers, replaceable cogs in the machine.

All of these unsatisfying deaths may just be the result of all these characters making one choice, to live as sorcerers rather than people. Because to exist means to live in the world.

Even in Mechamaru's case, his goal is deeply existentialist by what I defined, all he wants to do is live in the world with everyone else rather than be stuck in his hospital room but his actions contradict that goal. Instead of letting his friends come and visit he's obsessed with the idea of getting a normal body because he feels that's the only way he can exist with everyone else, he makes a deal with the devil, he lies and goes behind their backs. He wasn't living with everyone else in the world and he could have chosen to, he chose wrong and his death is the result of that choice.

Jujutsu Sorcerers aren't living in the world. They're living in a little snowglobe far removed from the world with its own rules, most of them regressive and disconnected from the rest of society. If you define existentialism as just "living in the world' then a lot of these characters aren't, because they only exist in the world of sorcery.

INVISIBLE BUFFY: What are you talking ab- SPIKE: The only reason you're here, is that you're not here. (drinking) INVISIBLE BUFFY: Right. Of course, as usual there's something wrong with Buffy. She came back all wrong. (moving around on the bed) You know, I didn't ask for this to happen to me. SPIKE: Not too put off by it though, are you? (drinking) INVISIBLE BUFFY: No! Maybe because for the first time since ... I'm free. She tosses the sheet aside. Spike looks around, trying to figure out where she's going. INVISIBLE BUFFY: Free of rules and reports ... free of this life. SPIKE: Free of life? Got another name for that. Dead.

Not living in the world with everyone else is the same as being dead.

A lot of these characters either make the choice to act alone, or be a jujutsu sorcerer rather than a person and because of that they die as sorcerers, b/c sorcerers die that's what they do. Mai didn't want to keep living as a hindrance to Maki so she kills herself. Maki didn't want to be anything other than a sorcerer, so her little sister dies and she's not a big sister anymore. Nanami chose to leave his job behind and become a sorcerer again, he dies as one.

Of course I don't think the manga is punishing characters for being too egotistical, but rather too unbalanced. If anything Mai is too selfless and that is why she died, she didn't want to live for herself and chooses self sacrifice for her sister. An unbalance between selfishness or selflessness results in an underdeveloped ego. Jujutsu Kaisen doesn't punish individualism per se, moreso if you're not a fully developed individual you won't last long. Because it's also a manga about growing up in the world, and a person who doesn't have a healthy, mature, well-balanced sense of self is not a grown up.

This twitter user det_critics points out that Gojo (and also Yuki + Yuji's) failures in the manga can be attributed to the fact they don't have real senses of self.

Gojo has an identity crisis as outlined by Geto, "are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest, or are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo?"

It's a challenge for him to find some reason to live outside of being the strongest, and in tragic fashion Gojo just doesn't find it in time. Gojo lived for fighting others, and proving to himself that he's the strongest, and that's how he dies.

There's something I like to say about narrative punishment in stories. There are two ways to punish a character, you either don't give them what they want, or you give them exactly what they want. This is the latter, Gojo wanted to find someone stronger than him because deep down he believed that nobody could understand him unless they were on his level. He wanted to be surpassed, and that's why he focused on creating stronger young sorcerers, but he never shook himself of the belief that only someone as strong or even stronger than he was could ever be emotionally attached to him so he made a deliberate choice to draw a line between himself and others.

Gojo's essentially gotten what he wanted from that choice in the worst way possible. The student he picked to succeed him Megumi, has his body stolen and kills him. Gojo is surpassed, but it's not by one of his own students it's by an enemy that's not only trying to kill Gojo but is going to massacre his students afterwards.

Gojo's spent his entire life believing that because he's more powerful that makes him inherently different and above others, and being lonely because he himself believed he couldn't relate to ordinary people and he dies like an ordinary person, an unsatisfying death where he wasn't able to bring out Sukuna's best, where he gets unceremoniously cut in half offscreen but yay he's no longer the strongest. He's gotten exactly what he wanted. Megumi is still not saved, Sukuna's probably going to kill more people because Gojo failed to stop him here, but hey at least he stopped to compliment Gojo.

It's empty, but it's empty because of the choices Gojo made in life to just not bother connecting to people or develop any kind of identity besides being a sorcerer. Gojo lives and dies as a sorcerer, and his dying dream is returning to a teenager being surrounded by everyone he was with during his school days, because that's the happiest time in his life. Ironically he was happier before he became the strongest, because that was the only time in his life that he allowed himself to connect to people.

However in the eyes of others, he is someone who has it all. That's why he is always alone. There was no one who could hold the same sentiments and mutually understand him. Geto was the only one who could understand what he was trying to say, and the only one who could communicate well with him.

It's no coincidence Gojo and Geto die exactly a year apart on the same day, if anything I'd say the reasons they die are similiar to at least thematically. They both die because they don't want to live in the world. Geto thinks the world is too corrupt and GOjo doesn't want to be anything other than a sorcerer, both of them fail to adapt.

「 'It's just. . .' It's just that it was what Geto had to do. [...] To someone like him, the reality that the world of sorcerers presented to him was just too cruel. '. . .that in a world like this, I couldn't truly be happy from the bottom of my heart.'」

They can't be happy in a world like this from the bottom of their hearts, so narratively they both die. The things they chose to live for at the end of their life they fail to accomplish, Gojo is no longer the stronget, Geto fails to wipe out mankind or make major changes to the world and they die as normal people unsatisfied because they weren't trying to live in the world and make connections to others. They die almost karmically a year apart because their main connection for both of them, the thing which made them feel connected to the world and other people was each other.

Which is why this panel breaks my heart and is so narratively satisfying because of how unsatisfying it is...

"If you were among those patting my back... then I might've been satisfied."

Gojo reflects that he's not satisfied dying against Sukuna, not because he failed to give him a good enough challenge but because Geto wasn't there to pat him on the back. The one thing that would have satisfied him he couldn't have, because he didn't live to connect to people he lived to be the strongest and he died alone as the strongest. There's just something deeply upsetting about Gojo's dying dream fantasy just him being there talking with all of his dead friends who he never appreciated or connected to properly when he was alive. Knowing that if something had just gone a little differently, that even if he had to die no matter what he could have died happier if Geto was among the people saying goodbye to him because that connection with Geto is what gave his life meaning.

Dazai Osamu: "A life with someone you can say good-bye to is a good life, especially when it hurts so much to say it to them. Am I wrong?" -Bungou Stray Dogs Beast

[mocchiixxx]

In Every Move, I See You

(Dino x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Supportive Relationship

You always knew your boyfriend was an incredible dancer, but watching him in his element—creating, teaching, and performing—was an entirely different experience. It was mesmerizing, the way he moved so effortlessly, his body speaking a language only he truly understood.

When Dino invited you to watch him record his latest Dino Dancology episode, featuring Seungkwan and his self-choreographed piece to Cheating on You, you had no idea you’d be witnessing something so breathtaking.

Now, sitting in the corner of the practice room, you watched as the music filled the space, your boyfriend’s body responding to every beat with sharp yet fluid movements. There was a rawness in the way he danced—intense, expressive, every step carrying emotion.

Beside him, Seungkwan was doing his best to keep up. He was good—really good—but you could tell he was still working through some of the nuances.

“Hyung, feel the music,” Dino instructed, running a hand through his slightly damp hair. “It’s not just about the steps—it’s about the emotion behind them.”

Seungkwan huffed, hands on his knees. “It’s easy for you to say. You make this look effortless.” He wiped his forehead, turning to you with a dramatic sigh. “How do you survive dating this dance prodigy? I feel like I’m suffering here.”

You laughed, glancing at Dino, who grinned at the compliment. “I just sit back and admire the view,” you teased, sending a playful wink in your boyfriend’s direction.

Dino chuckled, shaking his head before clapping his hands together. “Alright, one more time from the top!”

As the music played again, your eyes were glued to him. His focus was razor-sharp, his movements precise yet overflowing with emotion. You swore you could see the passion in his every motion, the way he lost himself in the rhythm. It was like watching someone fall in love over and over again—except, instead of a person, he was falling for the music.

By the time the final take wrapped up, Seungkwan dramatically collapsed onto the floor. “I’m dead,” he groaned. “I hope people appreciate this because I might not survive another recording.”

Dino laughed, pulling him up. “You did great, hyung.”

Then, he turned to you, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Jagi, you were really quiet. What did you think?”

You got up, walking toward him with a slow smirk. “Oh, I was just absorbing everything. You know, analyzing.” You tapped your chin. “The technique, the footwork, the—” you paused for dramatic effect, “—intensity in your expressions.”

Dino narrowed his eyes. “You’re teasing me.”

You grinned. “Maybe a little. But really, babe, you were amazing.”

His ears turned pink at the praise. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you corrected, stepping closer. “You’re insane when you dance, in the best way. It’s like you were born for this.”

He ducked his head shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hearing that from you means a lot.”

Before you could respond, Seungkwan groaned loudly, waving his hand as he headed for the door. “Okay, I’m leaving before I drown in this disgusting amount of love.”

You and Dino laughed as he disappeared. Then, turning back to each other, your boyfriend reached for your hands. “Thanks for coming today. It made me happy knowing you were here.”

You squeezed his fingers. “I’ll always be here, love. In every move you make, I see you—your heart, your passion, you.”

Dino smiled, pulling you into a quick hug before whispering, “Then I’ll keep dancing, just for you.”

Author's Note:

Exactly on this very day, March 07, 2022, this banger was released, and even now, three years later, Dino’s Danceology featuring Seungkwan still lives rent-free in my head. Can you believe it’s been three years since they posted it?

Look at how they move, the precision, the passion, the storytelling through dance. This performance isn’t just choreography; it’s art. Mesmerizing is an understatement, this is truly a masterpiece.

[goodlucktai]

raised on little light (2/3)

rise of the tmnt word count: 4k pairing: mikey & oc big thank you to  @soldrawss for the art included in this chapter and to  @mykimouser for making me insane about neutral!michelangelo at all hours of the day title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

x

2031

Mikey is looking for his little brother. It seems like he spends half his life doing that these days. 

The TV is on in Splinter’s room, door ajar but equally as unapproachable as the door to Donnie’s lab, which is shut tight, as usual. Raph’s door is standing open, but his room is empty, because he leaves early for work on the weekdays. 

Mikey maneuvers past the closed doors and empty rooms like a professional. He doesn’t even have to think too hard about it anymore. 

Rounding the corner to the dining room, Mikey’s stride slows and relief punches an exhale out of him. He doesn’t realize how tense he is until he deflates like a balloon. 

Gio is asleep at the table, face half-buried in his folded arms, crossbow and maintenance supplies spread out in front of him. It’s disappointing, but not surprising. He rarely stays in his own room, as if he’s afraid of taking up space that isn’t really his. As if they’re going to change their mind and tell him they do still need it for storage, actually, and he wants to be ready when they do. Mikey’s pretty sure he never fully unpacked his bag. 

Sometimes he leaves the lair entirely, and since he’s the most unreliable texter Mikey knows, and has never met a phone call he would answer without a gun held to his head, he might as well fall completely off the grid each time he’s gone. Mikey stays up on those nights, keeping busy in the kitchen, worrying worrying worrying. 

He feels too much like Raph when he doesn’t know where the kid is. He understands intimately how overbearing big brothers could be, remembers how a tiny rift had formed between him and Raph when they were young because of it—childish and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things to come, but devastating at the time. 

So he tries to channel Leo instead, who had always trusted Mikey to know when to ask for help if he needed it. Tries to make sure Gio never feels like he can’t come home again, with a smile ready for him as soon as he slips silently back through the door. 

But last night Gio must have stayed in. There’s a blanket draped over him that Mikey didn’t put there, and Splinter almost certainly hadn’t left his room to put there, which leaves two possible culprits. Raph and Donnie don’t know how to make gestures that Gio can see for what they are, hardly know how to be in the same room as the kid without seeing a ghost superimposed where he’s standing. It leaves a lot of the emotional heavy-lifting on Mikey’s shoulders, but it’s fine. A brother could never be a burden to him. 

Mikey can’t give Gio everything he deserves to have, everything that should have been his from the very beginning, but he can give him some things. 

And we’ll start, Mikey thinks with the kind of absurd resilience that wouldn’t have been out of place at the actual end of the world, with breakfast. 

Gio wasn’t trained in ninja like the rest of them were but his senses are as sharp as any other turtle genetically modified for war. Mikey woke him up with a touch once and the fear response only lasted a handful of seconds but it was enough that Mikey made the executive decision that no one would ever do that again, or else. 

Mikey pulls a chair out beside the smaller turtle and sinks into it soundlessly. He traces the newly-familiar white spots on that smoky gray-green face with his eyes, counting and recounting them, even though he knows how many there are. Everything about Gio is at once brand-new and well-loved to him. 

After a moment, the only other sound the ancient Snoopy clock counting seconds in the kitchen, Mikey starts to hum. Three little birds sat on my window…

He can’t help remembering another morning just like this one, what feels like a lifetime ago. Mikey, all of thirteen, had insisted on being woken up to make breakfast so he could try a new crumble muffin recipe, but he’d stayed up too late the night before and sleep clung stubbornly to him despite the row of alarms he’d set. Their resident insomniac had been the only one awake, by virtue of not having gone to bed in the first place, and he’d parked himself in the beanbag under Mikey’s hammock and hummed the same song over and over until Mikey woke up. He had it stuck in his head for the rest of the day. They sang “GIRL PUT YOUR RECORDS ON” in the kitchen at the top of their lungs until Donnie sent the group chat a PDF of a noise complaint form, completely filled out. 

Mikey hadn’t realized he was taking any of it for granted back then. He would do anything— anything—to wake up that way again. Just one more time. 

Beside him, Gio stirs. Once he’s awake he’s alert fast, those big dark eyes sliding open and staying that way, head coming up off the pillow of his arms. He has that look on his face that Mikey would be tempted to call earnest on anyone else. 

“Rise and shine, Clementine,” Mikey says brightly, reaching over to rub the back of his fingers against a spotted cheek affectionately. “I was craving breakfast empanadas today and was hoping my best sous chef would be willing to help me out.” Then, deliberately light-hearted, he adds, “Little turtles who skip dinner have to eat extra breakfast, you know. That’s house rule number one.”

Gio blinks at him, his face giving nothing away to the casual observer. 

“I thought house rule number one was ‘always get it in writing’.” 

Mikey’s smile widens, surprised and pleased every time he plays along. 

“That’s number three, actually. Right behind ‘don’t do anything you wouldn’t want recorded and replayed at family functions.’ If you want, I can tell you exactly why that one’s a rule, and why it’s entirely Donnie’s fault.”

Gio does that thing where he assesses Mikey’s expression and tone as though he’s looking for the trap. Mikey weathers it, makes sure his smile doesn’t slip an inch. 

Donatello is more of an urban legend to Gio than his actual living brother. After a few hesitant attempts to approach the older turtle that had been shut down completely each time, Gio made the informed decision that that road was closed permanently. 

Sometimes Mikey will tell a story, or April, on one of her increasingly sporadic visits to the lair, will lean over and show him a video on her phone, and Gio will listen or watch like he has no idea who the guy they’re talking about could possibly be. 

They do their best, but there’s no way to really introduce the Donnie that they know to Gio, because that Donnie only still exists in their stories and videos. The Donatello who was silly, who loved music and theater, who burst into the living room with some new invention or gadget to boast about, had been replaced by one who rarely spoke, who didn’t even have Spotify on his phone anymore since it took up too much space, who kept the lair running only because it was where his family lived but not because he had any lasting attachment to the place, and he certainly didn’t make any unnecessary tech just for fun. 

I know you’re still in there, Mikey thinks sometimes. 

He’ll bring Donnie lunch and leave it on the table in the lab, and then hold out his arms. Sometimes, Donnie won’t look at him. Sometimes, Donnie will put his tools down and let his little brother crowd in for a hug. He’ll tuck Mikey under his chin and hold him tight, like they were children again and nothing was wrong that couldn’t be made right. 

Thank you for staying, Mikey will think, clinging for every second he’s allowed to. I know it’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

The grief is always encroaching, like floodwaters. Rising slow and steady, swallowing up cars and street signs and single level houses, changing the landscape of his hometown until it’s an unfamiliar place. No end in sight. No sign of land. 

Someone send us a boat, Mikey wants to cry hysterically. But he knows how stupid that is.

He is the boat. 

—

When he met Giorgio for the first time, Mikey was twenty-five and Leo had been dead for ten years.

“Sorry,” Mikey said. His fingers felt numb around the phone. “Could you say that again?”

“A turtle,” Hueso had replied shortly. “I would not have called, but he has familiar eyes. He is not aware of any family in the area. Would you like me to ask him to wait for you?”

Mikey hadn’t tried his portals again since the last disastrous time—since Raph had made him promise to stop—so he knew it couldn’t be Leo. He knew it. Hueso would be able to pick his sobrino out of a million turtles and would have led the call with that. And Leo wouldn’t have stopped for pizza before running back to them, he wouldn’t have stopped for anything. Leo would have been the one to let them know Leo was home. 

Still, there was a tiny warbling hope in the bottom of his heart that wailed “maybe, maybe, maybe.” Still, it hurt to feel that hope shrivel up and die when Mikey slammed into the private dining room and found Hueso talking to an unfamiliar mutant with white spots and a black shell and—it was undeniable—Hamato Yoshi’s eyes. 

The turtle was small, dressed in dark grays and greens, a strap across his chest that made it clear he was armed by something resting out of sight on his back. He stood with his arms crossed, in a manner that was probably supposed to read as stubborn or defiant, but Mikey clocked instantly as nervous. 

This kid didn’t know what he was doing here or who the hell Mikey was and he looked about as comfortable with all the attention as Donnie would have been at that age. 

Mikey felt himself soften, some distant part of his heart sitting in disuse and disrepair lurching to life again. Ancestral magic that he had largely turned his back on suddenly stirred, ninpo reaching out fragile feelers toward the person in the room that it recognized as immediately as if it was looking at its own self in a mirror. 

“This is one of my creations,” Draxum announced, confirming what Mikey’s heart had already decided. “It must have survived after all.”

“Elaborate,” Mikey said, in a tone that didn’t match the gentle smile he had for the spotted turtle. 

“How old are you?” the alchemist had asked instead, which seemed an odd first question to have and didn’t explain literally anything. 

“Eighteen,” the spotted turtle replied. Mikey’s brow made a bid for his hairline. He would have been less surprised if the kid had said fifteen. Was he that scrawny as an eighteen year old?

“You hatched at about the same time as the red one,” Draxum said dispassionately, “so you should have been about his age, and he is twenty-seven. And how did you come to be here?”

Gio’s eyes slid away from him, over to Mikey. Mikey didn’t know what his face was doing. He hoped it was encouraging. 

“I went through a yellow door,” Gio said. “And I ended up here.” 

“By yellow door, I’m assuming you mean a rift in space-time,” Draxum said. “What possessed you to walk into it?”

“Felt safe,” Gio said, and that was the last thing he said about it, expression closing up in a way Mikey was intimately familiar with as I’m done talking and liable to bite if provoked. But Draxum was a lot of things, genius among them, and seemed to already have an idea of what had happened. 

Portals could be capricious. The night of Splinter’s mutation and escape from the Hidden City, a machine in Draxum’s original lab had gone haywire as the structure collapsed. Draxum watched as it snatched up various tools and equipment and finally one of the experiment enclosures that Splinter had not been able to reach in time to save its occupant with the four he already carried. 

With the machine destroyed, it was impossible to even begin tracking the experiment down to wherever it had ended up. And there were unfortunately small odds that the creature would have survived long on its own wherever the portal deposited it. Draxum had written it off as dead. 

But there he was. Ten years displaced, but living and healthy and whole. Apparently he’d been in another dimension all this time, and only came back again because a portal he encountered had looked inviting. 

—

And now he’s in Mikey’s kitchen, listening studiously to his brother’s chatter and following instructions with exacting precision, still wearing the ridiculously oversized red sweater Mikey bundled him into the day before. It made Raph’s face do something funny when he saw Gio in it at lunch, but he hadn’t said anything when he saw Mikey hauling it out of the dryer earlier that morning, and he didn’t say anything at the table either.  

Over the years and countless wash cycles it’s been worn to unbelievable softness. It used to be that Raph couldn’t keep it in his closet if he tried, caught as it was in a constant rotation between little siblings who loved to wear it, floppy sleeves and sagging hem and all. It’s almost strange to see it again, here under the kitchen lights in this new country they all live in. 

Stealing clothes was a baby brother right of passage. And it was just collecting dust in storage anyway. 

Gio sees Mikey looking and glances down self-consciously. Then he jolts, and drops the ball of dough in his hands, lifting and twisting his left arm to put it more in the light. Near the elbow of the sleeve is a smudge of flour. 

He thumbs at the spot, preoccupied by it. His body language is shrinking because he always makes himself a smaller target when he starts to get anxious. 

One day, Mikey is going to find whoever taught him to do that and have words. For now, he rounds the island to Gio’s side and leans against it so he can duck down and peer into that little spotted face. He makes sure to plant his own elbow in the flour dusted across the butcher block counter, sending up a little poof of it as he does. 

“Hey, sweet kid, don’t worry about this old thing. It’s already been through everything you can possibly think of,” Mikey reassures, tweaking the hood playfully. “It survived the Paintball War of 2017, it’ll hold up to a little baking accident.”

Gio’s dark eyes lift to meet his, attentive and absorbing everything he sees and so, so careful. 

“Raphael won’t get mad?” 

Mikey keeps smiling, even though he’d like to start crying. 

Of course he won’t, he wants to say. He’s your big brother and he loves you. He’d move heaven and earth for you. He doesn’t know how to say it these days—he doesn’t trust himself to hold people the way he used to, doesn’t know who he is anymore since the shield he used to be was broken—but he’s still Raph. Our Raphie. I promise, it’s still him. 

Gio had never been lifted up into strong arms and tossed in the air until he laughed, caught safely and held tight like those arms would never get tired of holding him. He had never crawled under the blankets in a room humming and blinking with electronics after a nightmare, resting his head on a broad shoulder and falling asleep to a low voice rattling off his favorite explanation of gravity—a force that held everything down, pulled everything together, that could always be counted upon to keep you. He had never snuck out for brunch, just him and someone who saw him more clearly than he could ever see himself, who knew when a stack of French toast and a string of Snapchat selfies and a little mischief was exactly what he needed. 

Gio had never had any of that. He had been alone since he was freshly mutated and abandoned by pure chance, and now he was barely nineteen and he didn’t know how else to be. He didn’t have the first clue, but he was so willing to learn. He soaked up attention like a plant starved for sunlight, petals reaching endlessly for an end to the dark.  

I wish you had been there, Mikey thinks sometimes when he looks at him, heart breaking with the truth of it. We would have held you. You wouldn’t even know how to be alone. You wouldn’t be worried about a stain on a sweater. 

“He won’t get mad,” Mikey says instead. He channels his most charming brother, the one who could sell water to a fish, who could talk his way out of anything, who convinced his family to keep hoping even when all hope seemed lost. “And hey, if he brings it up, we’ll just blame the cat.” 

The corner of Gio’s mouth twitches, and then he smiles despite himself, as buoyed along as Mikey always was when Leo was silly with him, and says, “We don’t have a cat.” 

“Maybe I’ve just been waiting for an excuse to get one!” 

At that point, a burst of white noise from the living room cuts over whatever Gio might have been about to say. It sounds like the roar of wind from an open window of a car going seventy down the highway. It cuts off, and then something clatters noisily, and Gio’s reluctantly amused expression vanishes into alarm. 

They don’t exactly get a lot of surprise visitors down here. He wouldn’t recognize the familiar sound of transportation-by-time-scepter, followed by the even more familiar sound of its clumsy wielder tripping and knocking something over immediately upon arrival. 

“Oops—helloooo?” 

“In here, Renet,” Mikey calls back, nudging his shoulder into Gio’s so he knows not to worry. 

The timestress bumbles in, scepter tucked into the crook of her arm so she has both hands free to fix her braids. She’s smiling all big and crooked and sweet, mouth open to greet Mikey the same enthusiastic way she always greets him, but she stops dead in the doorway when she catches sight of the second turtle in the room. 

Renet takes one look at Gio and says, “Oh! Well, you don’t belong here at all, do you?”

It’s been a long time since Mikey has felt like screaming at her, but the way his little brother absorbs that blow without flinching is enough to get him on his feet. 

“Hey, Nettie, can we talk in the hall?” he says with a brightness he doesn’t feel. “Georgie, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Gio dips his head in a nod, slowly rolling dough in his hands again, and Renet follows Mikey out of the room like someone who knows they’re about to face the firing squad. 

“I did not mean it like that,” is the first thing she says when it’s just the two of them. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Mikey does know that somewhere in the back of his mind. Renet is his friend and she’s never been anything but kind to him. If they had met when they were children, they probably would have gotten along like a house on fire. 

There was a time when he only saw the best in people, but the idealism had been carved out of Mikey when his portal to the prison dimension failed to open.

Some days, Mikey looks at Renet and can only see the person with time itself at her disposal, the past and future spread out like a choose-your-own-adventure book—the person with the power to help, to change things, who took Mikey’s countless, desperate pleas to be allowed to save his brother and held them tenderly like they were important to her and still told him no. 

Some days, that “no” is the most significant thing she ever said to him. 

“He’s my brother,” Mikey says. “He belongs wherever we are.” 

“Of course he does,” Renet says, brown eyes soft. “Mike, of course he does. That’s not what I meant.”

When they move back into the kitchen, introductions are made properly, and Renet makes it a point to clarify that she’s glad to finally meet him. 

Giorgio is watching them with those eyes that take in everything. Deep and trusting when he looks at Mikey, sharpening into something calculative when he shifts his gaze toward Renet. 

Looking back, Mikey will recognize it as the moment he lost him. 

“Smells pretty good in here, boys!” Renet says, swanning over to the stovetop. “Oh, is that chorizo? Mike, tell me you’re not making empanadas! I already ate on my way over!” 

“Then you won’t need to stay for breakfast,” Mikey sing-songs, feathers still ruffled. Then, because he feels bad for the way she deflates at the blatant dismissal, adds, “If you want to stick around, you can take some back with you to Null Time. Just don’t let that jerk Savanti have any, I don’t like his vibe.” “I swear,” Renet says, hand to her heart. 

“You talk about time travel like it’s something you can do,” Gio says suddenly. “Is it?”

The air in the room suddenly feels much thinner than before. Renet looks at Mikey quickly before answering.

“Sure, Gio. I’m a timestress—or, you know, I’m a student now. Basically an unpaid intern. But one of these days I’ll be the real deal.” She winks at him, and Gio gazes back at her placidly. 

“So you could send someone back in time? To stop something bad from happening?”

Oh, no, Mikey thinks. 

“I could,” Renet says. To her credit, she doesn’t sound as bone-tired of this conversation as she must be. “But I can’t. There are so many rules, and for good reason! One little slip-up could be an absolute disaster. It won’t do you any good trying to change the past if you end up destroying the present and the future while you’re at it, right? I’m barely allowed to look at this thing, much less use it,” Renet goes on, wagging the priceless time scepter around like it’s a rubber spatula. 

“But you could,” Gio says. “If we followed all the rules. If we figured out a way—”

“Georgie,” Mikey interjects. 

“I’ll tell you what I told Mike, baby,” Renet says gently. “It can’t be done. He belongs here.” 

Gio says, “But I don’t. You said that.”

“Stop,” Mikey says, not recognizing his own voice. 

But it’s too late. It was too late when he tried to open a door inside the prison dimension, because Leo was already dead inside. 

He was already dead inside, Draxum had said, clinical in a way that helped to distance himself from the hurt, but also distanced himself from the ones hurting, clinical in a way that made Mikey bare his teeth and say things he couldn’t take back. That’s why you couldn’t reach him. It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t a point for you to anchor off of, there was no other end for your line to reach. He was already dead inside. He was already gone. 

Mikey stares at Gio, the tuck of his chin as he looks back down at the dough on the counter. He’s unwilling to argue with Mikey, but that stubbornness is an innate family trait. There’s no way he’ll give it up now that he’s got his teeth sunk into the idea. Mikey knows what it looks like when a brother is about to leave. Mikey knows what it feels like when they’re already gone.   

When he was younger, he was so angry. He was bursting with potential, with possibilities, his magic a wounded, snarling creature in his heart. It’s not fair that he failed. It’s not fair that he didn’t save his brother, that his love wasn’t enough to punch through the prison dimension and wrap Leo in warmth and light and bring him home. It’s not fair that no one was willing to help him. 

Fine, he had thought, fine! I’ll do it myself! 

Renet had explained to him over and over that his power had more to do with space than time. Casey Jr. said that he’d been sent back in time by his Uncle Michelangelo, but that wasn’t necessarily true. Casey’s arrival in the past had created another universe, parallel to the former. That was Mikey’s power—he could affect and even create other timelines, which was powerful and amazing, but not true time travel. Nothing he did could change his own reality, the one he was living in, because he had already lived it. He couldn’t get back what he had lost. 

Mikey plunged ahead anyway, desperate. He could make it work. He could make a change. Even if it didn’t change anything here, he could find another world and save its Leo and—and maybe that could be a start. Maybe he would finally get his head up above water, and stop drowning for just one second of the day, maybe he’d be able to take a full breath for the first time since his brother disappeared on the other side of a closed door.  

He didn’t wait for permission or approval. He slunk off into a tunnel a mile away from home and drew the circles himself. Lifted his hands and filled them with power, until it felt like he was holding the sun. And it hurt, of course it did. It burned all the way through. But he was hurting anyway. 

A portal opened, a pale yellow window. Mikey looked through it, and saw himself on Staten Island, ripping open a hole in the universe and saving his brother. 

What?

He looked again, over and over, at least half a dozen times—and every time, he looked into a universe where Leo didn’t die. Where Mikey saved him, or Raph scooped him up before he went diving off the Technodrome to catch Mikey and Donnie, or Donnie flew back up to Leo with a rocket and yanked him back through the door before Casey managed to close it. Over and over and over, Leo didn’t die. 

So it’s just me, Mikey realized. I’m the one who got it wrong. 

Raph followed the detonation of ninpo and hysterical screaming through the maze-like tunnels and found him suspended in midair. Rock and rebar were flying around Mikey, everything not nailed to the earth turned dangerous projectiles, his arms burning and flaking away into pieces that disintegrated when they met open air. 

His big brother’s expression had been terrified as he pulled Mikey down into his arms and held him through the shrieking storm he’d made. One hand on the back of his head to keep his face tucked safely into Raph’s scarred shoulder, the other arm cradling him like he was half his age, like he was still someone’s baby. 

“Angie, it’s okay,” Raph had said, low and aching. His voice was a rumble beneath Mikey’s ear, barely audible but just loud enough. “It’s okay. You can scream, you can bring the whole damn city down if you want. But you gotta let go, sunshine. Let go, Mikey.” 

I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to! Mikey wailed, clutching at Raph’s jacket with hands that felt like two white-hot points of pure agony, clinging, holding on. If he let go, Leo stayed gone. If he let go, he really didn’t love Leo enough to save him. 

But Raph pressed his cheek to the top of Mikey’s head, and his next breath shuddered in his chest, and he whispered, “I know you don’t want to, I know. But this isn’t gonna save him. You’re just hurting yourself and L—Leo would hate that. He’d tell you to stop.” One hand crept over to cover both of Mikey’s, squeezing them tight. “Come on, big man. It’s okay. Let go.” 

He let go. The magic faded, dropping everything it had picked up back to the tunnel floor with dull thuds. His hands spasmed wildly, grip nonexistent, and Raph just kept holding them as he carried Mikey home. 

Mikey sobbed for the rest of the night, what felt like hours and hours. Raph reverted to turtle sounds when nothing he said seemed to get through, and Donnie crept under the blanket and plastered himself to Mikey’s carapace so that they had “A little citrus sandwich!” Leo would cheer, the silliest and sweetest turtle in the world until Mikey finally cracked a smile. 

His family made him promise not to try again. It’s not worth it, they said, a unified front—and as much as the words hurt Mikey to hear, it must have hurt his siblings and father just as much to say them. We can’t lose anyone else, they were ready to beg, because they didn’t know it was his fault Leo was gone. They didn’t understand how badly he’d failed them all. If they did, they wouldn’t have been so grimly determined to protect Mikey’s life from his own hands. 

It felt like a betrayal at the time, but he understands now. 

It’s not worth it, he thinks, staring at Gio. I can’t lose anyone else, he’s ready to beg. 

But Mikey knows what it looks like when a brother is about to leave. Mikey knows what it feels like when they’re already gone. 

What he doesn’t know is how to love someone well enough to keep them. 

[ohimsummer]

RANDOM HORROR GAMER! SATORU HCS

— one(1) suggestive under the cut so minors dni, gamer! gojo x reader, established rs, explicit language, some gamer! reader, pet names (sweetums, baby, (my) love), the link has body horror!!, horror-loving gojo in general <3

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ gojo playing outlast and resident evil and silent hill and fnaf and and

horror gamer! satoru who always likes you around whenever he starts playing. doesn’t matter if you’re cooking, showering, or out for the day—and prefers you in his lap while in his comfy gaming chair, but if you’re even just on the bed nearby then that’s totally okay, too.

horror gamer! satoru who finds it so cute when the jumpscares actually startle you. laughs when you let out a yelp or a scream, giggling a ‘relax, baby’ as if his heart didn’t stop for a second at the same scare.

horror gamer! satoru who asks your opinions and recommendations on what games to play, even if you know nothing about them. if he’s stuck between two games, he’ll let you be the tiebreaker, shoving the two options in your face for you to choose from even if your reasons are inane. ‘you like the art on this one better? the title sounds cooler? okay, come check it out with me!’

horror gamer! satoru who finds it comforting whenever you’re cuddled under him while he plays. your scent and the warmth of your body soothes him, makes the scares a little less frightening and he calms down way quicker when he gets to hug you so tight. (refers to you as his emotional support y/n)

horror gamer! satoru who’s just about always eating his words about how terrified the game is making him. talks so much shit going ‘oh this dumbass monster isn’t even that scary’ and you just like to humor him even though you can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

horror gamer! satoru who enjoys when you also talk a little trash with him. ‘i could totally take that monster on, right, baby?’ ‘hell yeah, it looks weak as shit, you could destroy that thing.’

horror gamer! satoru and you both frantically talking over eachother when he gets to a fast-paced area of the game, parts that require swift puzzle-solving or thinking quickly on your feet. ‘fuckfuckfuck where do i go, where do i go ?!’ ‘that way, THAT WAY, no the other way, oh my god, run!!’

horror gamer! satoru who likes handing you the mouse/controller and watching you play. guides you through some parts when you get confused, and always returns your victorious grin when you’re able to get past the really scary or difficult areas by yourself.

‘look at my baby gettin’ through the little mini-boss after 26– ow, fine, 18 tries! so proud of you, sweetums, guess my super-awesome gaming skills are rubbin’ off on ya, huh?’

horror gamer! satoru who lets you get jumpscared even when he knows a scare is coming up. ‘didn’t wanna ruin the experience for ya, baby’ while he’s almost spitting out his water from trying to hold back laughter.

horror gamer! satoru who you have to gently drag away from his setup when he starts getting frustrated. he’s been stuck on this one part for hours now because of rng or the boss is just ‘stupid and rigged’ and insanely hard. you can see his jaw clench, his moves getting sloppier in his exasperation.

horror gamer! satoru let’s you pepper kisses up and down his neck, over his jaw and cheeks, on his forehead as you murmur suggestions to take a break in his ear. you hold your own drink up in an offer for him to take a sip, before slipping away to grab one of his favorite sweet treats to hopefully ease his frustrations. ‘give it a rest and come cuddle with me for a bit, my love, you can always try again later.’

horror gamer! satoru who buys another controller (in your favorite color) so he can play co-op horror games with you. he loves watching you improve, proud when he doesn’t have to carry you as hard anymore. and it feels so much more fun because it’s like you’re experiencing the scares together, not the same as when you’re just watching him play.

horror gamer! satoru who goes horror game-hunting with you. he loves that your interest in them has grown so much, and you two can actually talk in detail about them since your ‘horror knowledge’ isn’t at base level anymore.

horror gamer! satoru likes that you’re not just watching him play and listening to him explain what’s going on anymore. you’re more heavily intrigued in the game lore and spotting tiny details or references in the games.

you’re playing a multiplayer horror game with satoru, exploring a different room of the house since you two have split up to cover more ground.

‘oh, wow! satoru, look at this little figure on the desk!’

his avatar makes its way over, and he’s a little excited to see the tiny evil within 2 reference on the piece of furniture.

‘it’s obscura, isn’t that so cool?’ ‘fuck yeah, wonder if there’s any more hidden around here somewhere?’ and you both keep an eye out for any other allusions to more horror game characters.

horror gamer! satoru who convinces you that playing in the dark is so much better. and it is, it makes the whole experience that much scarier, and you hate (love) it. you find yourself peeping into the dark shadows of the room, goosebumps raised on every inch of skin. and also wanting to punch satoru in the throat when he grazes a finger up the nape of your neck, laughing at your fright when you just about jump out of your skin.

horror gamer! satoru who buys little trinkets or figures of horror game characters. bought you a silent hill nurse figurine to go next to his of pyramid head. you both dressed up as said characters for a Halloween party once, and then ended up, um, undressing eachother in someone’s bathroom later that night…

horror gamer! satoru who knows all kinds of horror game trivia and he loves exchanging facts with you, even if you tell him stuff he already knows. again, he just loves that you share his favorite interest! tell him over and over about how [char.] is your favorite horror game villain or how [song] makes that scene so much creepier! he will eat it up again and again and again.

horror gamer! satoru who gets so excited whenever you present a new game to him, especially if it’s one he hasn’t seen before! ‘holy shit, baby is this a new release? fuck, we have to play this tonight!’

a casual (horror-themed) date night with horror gamer! satoru could be going out to see a new scary movie in theatres, or even just staying in to play your favorite horror games together. on nights like those, he likes to suggest cheesy, parody, or nostalgic horror games like slenderman or some .EXE game.

tagz: @anthoosies @staryukis @hellkaiserinphoenix @biscuitsngravie @elusivemoon @rxddxvotion @babytoshiii

[owlstro]

Shrimpo x twisted reader who just won't stop following him? the reader occasionally pulls him away from machines to force him into pattycake or a staring contest.

Willing to forcefully drag other toons into the activity. Mostly forces Shrimpo.

SHRIMPO X TWISTED READER

note: this is SOOO CUTEE!!!! i luv luv LOVE this!!! this lowkey turned into more of shrimpo being confused w/ his emotions at the end. haha i love writing him, i got carried away mybad LMFAOO

i hope characterized shrimpo at least okay (he's hard to write for since he's just hate and a self glazer/pos)... ittss maybeee a little ooc but anyways, thank u for requesting and i hope u enjoy ur shrimpo content :3

(not proof-read, mb gang if smth doesnt make sense heh....Gomen..)

art: @ batsu_sebun (i think u can tell i like using their art) (oh my god this is extremely low quality, ignore dandy and flutter btw)

Poor Shrimpo, he doesn't know how to deal with this... He absolutely (well kind of) HATES this!

For the one time he gets allowed in a run. Something has to happen. Great, he absolutely HATES (lowkey likes) this.

He was extremely confused when he noticed you were following him instead of attacking, the poor shrimp flinched seeing a shadow, let alone Twisted approaching him... What? Oh no he actually did NOT flinch at all!

Shrimpo immediately complained about this, trying to lose your line of sight, hiding behind crates and tables...

Yet you always found him, like you had a sixth sense for him. Shrimpo will ignore that for now, he has better things to focus on.

As much as he hates to think or say this, he doesn't mind your company. It's kind of nice to have someone by his side, even if they're like a zombie now.

He would never admit this, he's taking it to his grave.

Shrimpo was definitely confused though, were you like that STUPID shattered mirror? It didn't seem like it, you seemed fine when you were alone without him.

Maybe the others knew what to do with you since they've probably encountered you more times than he can count (it's whatever cause he hates counting) and he hasn't gone on runs in a good while, so he should've asked about this.

But he wouldn't, he can deal with you on his own! He didn't need some help from a Toon! He wouldn't tolerate such pity.

And so, he kept you a secret. Deliberately leading you to rooms with no machines in them if he saw some Toon approach his area. He sneakily passed all of them, somehow with you following right behind him. He did stop doing this, noticing the others were chatting with each other since there wasn't a major threat on this floor.

Although, Shrimpo did start getting annoyed, whenever he was doing anything like trying to do machines, picking up (stealing) items, ... etc etc

You always dragged him to some secluded place (like he did with you, but it's only okay if he does it) and started staring at him, making it silent and unpleasant.

He didn't want to entertain this utterly pointless staring contest, but he also didn't want to lose to YOU! So, he persevered and... lost, horribly. What did anyone expect? He is the wors- best Toon, that was just a.. practice round! Shrimpo got insanely salty and rude after that.

"LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY!"

"..."

He found your silence unnerving but understood cause you were a Twisted. Right, you are one of them. No one has found out about your behavior or you in general because the Distractor thought they had found every Twisted already.

Shrimpo wasn't sure what to do with you. Does he bring you in the elevator? No, the others would be extremely confused. Does he just leave you here? Maybe, he should just do that.

As he was thinking about solutions of what to do with you, he realizes... Why does he care so much? Your just a ...abnormal Twisted.

He's seen Glisten before, he knows you'll pounce on him and rip him to shreds the moment that elevator is open.

So, why does he care about this? Why should he care about keeping you safe? He's supposed to be a Bully! Not whatever this sappy stuff is!

This is extremely out of character for him, Shrimpo spirals into a confusing set of emotions. He HATES being lovey dovey! The only Toon that deserves his love is HIMSELF!

Your twisted simply pokes the shrimp and that immediately catches his attention. Oh god, he's been awkwardly and angrily staring at you right? He almost feels sorry and embarrassed... Almost.

"WHAT!!! DO!!! YOU!!! WANT!!!"

"...Pa...ty...ca....ake..."

What? ...Were those your first words as a Twisted?? PATTYCAKE? He would laugh if he didn't HATE laughing!

You held up both of your hands, obviously gesturing to play Pattycake. Shrimpo furrowed his eyebrows at this, glancing around the room.

...It's not like your common, right? He doubts you two would meet again on the next floor, this run was coming to an end anyways right?

He'll... humour this, the ONLY time he'll humor you besides the staring contests.

It was awkward to say the least, it was dead silent with you barely being able to form a word, let alone a sentence. And also, Shrimpo has never done anything like this. It's kind of dumb, his movements paused for the slightest second and shakiness of trying to not punch himself for doing this.

...Shrimpo unfortunately cut the play time short (much to your annoyance), looking you dead in the eyes and-

"DON'T TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS!!!"

You nodded, awkwardly forming a smile... well, the best one you could since your head was throbbing due to the excessive amount of Ichor in your body.

He wanted to smile back, but he physically couldn't! He had a reputation to uphold!

Shrimpo lightly kicked your leg and dashed right out of the room, out of embarrassment or just overall sadness he might not see you again? Maybe, but again, he would never admit it.

It's Shrimpo after all, the poor shrimp is horrible at expressing other emotions like sadness or happiness. All he's used to has been HATE and ANGER.

He doesn't like not being on top of things, not constantly aware of his own emotions. He likes control, he likes HATING on others, he likes laughing at others pain, he likes being a bully, he likes you!

...What? Wait, did he-

"Shrimpo! There you are, where have you been?" Someone asked him, probably Rodger. He didn't care enough to look at the Toon or respond to them.

He was just dumbfounded by his thoughts. He looked back from the area he came from with the slightest hint of sadness in his eyes.

"NOTHING! IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" He shouts, although he's not sure if it's because he's the one aware of his current emotions but his voice was shaky and weak.

He felt sick in his stomach. (were these the butterflies Toons were talking about?) Who even was he anymore? Was he cloned and reworked to be something more than a bully?

Shrimpo liked the simplicity of his 'character', something he likes was being a bully and himself! (and that one brick)

So why was he head over heels over you? This was beyond humiliating for him.

...

Oh Dandy, what'd you do to him??

final note: ooouhhh,,, my shrimp grown up and learns abt emotions...... they grow up so fast... sniff sniifff..... number one confsued hateful yearner....,,, am i speaking nonsense rn, my bad gang. HOPE U ENJOYED (also pls request,,,, i luv doing thsese)

[yurucamp]

Where does your motivation to draw come from? Also your art is lovely :3

thank you, anon!

i originally wrote the following response: "often it comes from seeing the work of other artists, i'm always overwhelmed scrolling through social media by the number of insanely skilled, creative artists out there, and i rush to go pick up my tablet. just as often i see something on a walk that i want to draw, some random serendipitous scene that sticks with me, and that's the most frustrating type of inspiration because i only have a fleeting mental image to work from and i can never capture the same emotion i saw in real life"

then i reread and thought maybe i'm conflating motivation and inspiration here- if, in a less literal sense, you mean why do i want to draw in general, i suppose i'd have to say something pretentious and vague like "because i want to try to capture and save a bit of the beauty of the world"... but ultimately drawing is just a way to relax, wind down, and quiet my brain a little for me. i find the process itself therapeutic and (this ties back to my original response) drawing what i see in the world forces me to pay more attention to the world- it's the same with photography, because i always walk with a camera i'm forced to be more aware of the things that surround me and i feel like i'm more able to appreciate and notice random moments of beauty because of this heightened attention to my surroundings

oops, i wrote two responses to your question and i STILL don't feel like i answered it, but just waffled on for a while! you've baffled me

[mandalhoerian]

Gosh I wish you made such big analize about Xavier and Sylus, sometimes I feel so dumb that I can't read so good behind the lines. 😭😭😭

HEY NO CMON NOW NO NEED TO DISCREDIT YOURSELF LIKE THAT!!!! First of all, this is an ongoing game and story, think of it like an incomplete ao3 fic you have theories for. There are HUUGE gaps in there that will be filled later and until then, they are left to the interpretation of the player. It's only natural, there's SO MUCH stuff and lore out there to be consumed, which are often non-linear that it makes things confusing on purpose. It's all about feeding us crumbs about what's coming, of course we get lost!!

Secondly, I made the rafayel analysis because it confused the lights out of me with the constant nagging feeling that I was missing something and that's why I didn't understand most things and wanted to get my thoughts straight. Like the ebb day theories floating out there as to why he was Like That, why he said the things he did out of nowhere and randomly like "what if i take from you will you leave me?" after the topic was JUST about sceneries and the love and art burns me talk after YET AGAIN another art talk about inspiration in pain. I had whiplash over whiplash and felt the need to dive deep into intertidal zone.

It's not like that with Sylus and Xavier (and Zayne's) cards. At least for me. All of them are fairly self-contained compared to his, I feel like. And I'm sure other people have discussed this already, much better than I can as well -- especially Sylus, but I'll put my two cents in for a general review of both their memorias!

Xavier is experiencing negative emotions such as jealousy FOR THE FIRST TIME with MC. He doesn't know how to process these feelings which are allowed to be nurtured in a safe environment when that wasn't the case before in his life. They manifest in temper bursts that stem from a life of being forced to be emotionally blank. He wasn't allowed to be a child or freedom for himself and his thoughts and feelings and wants, so he starts behaving in a childish way -- it's something he's surprised about as well. This happens when you feel safe with a person that those repressed parts begin to open up and you start being yourself more with them. It's sad when you think about it, as cute as it is coming from Xavier. MC is so understanding of him and finding him being "expressive" more as a really positive thing. She's an amazing partner -- because let's face it, if this behavior came from a man in real life, it would be so annoying. Xavier isn't like those other men though, his jealousy doesn't come from a need to control or possess, a place of distrust, projection or disregard of personal boundaries. It's cute because it's followed by healthy communication to allow Xavier to process and grow and open up more, it doesn't threaten the relationship. This is just my interpretation, aside from the context of their previous lives together (the desire to monopolize now that he finally is with her) and this being Xavier's possibly last year on earth that gives a "i've got so little time left and i don't want to waste it" stuff.

And Sylus is. Well. There's a lot in there. The theme here is "their first time", and it's not limited to sleeping together, in my opinon. Theirs is a burgeoning relationship compared to the other "established" relationships. They're new to each other. We even see domesticity from them in MC's house for the first time, though it is a result of Sylus's Onychinus life making an introduction in their relationship as something that has to be legitimately talked about eventually. MC wants to come along with him and know more but Sylus hides a lot from her to keep her safe and separate from him, and yes it's his business and MC doesn't push (the mutual respect is insane here), but it's affecting their time together. Not that MC sees this as a problem because she's always ready to throw down (AND does lock in and gets one step ahead of him).

I read this as MC's first time finally letting him in and her desires/feelings for him that she asked him to stay and kept making the moves when it had all been him before. Her feelings are growing. And you can see how much it pleases him and makes him happy, he was waiting for this -- for MC to voluntarily want him and be honest with him. That's all Sylus wants. He can see into what she wants, and sure yeah he knows, but her outwardly voicing them to him is a different story altogether. It shows she trusts him, and that's important to Sylus.

She was mostly closed off and withdrawn from him emotionally because they have this dynamic that started off hostile that turned into teasing and provoking where she sees being vulnerable with him as a weakness that would be embarrassing. It's a budding relationship, remember? No couple is all in & open with each other right from the beginning, it comes later. And Sylus is a dominant man (not domineering, that's a different word) and I think MC doesn't like being weak next to someone like him, and she perceives a power imbalance there unconsciously even though Sylus wants her to be open so bad and rely on him more and give her everything she wants and needs.

So it's HUUUUUGE that they showed Sylus intertwine their hands together when he had to FORCE IT before. MC is finally receiving him with open arms and you can see he's delighted. It's so romantic first of all, but mans is hungry, BUT HE'S ALSO SO TENDER AND LOVING !!! GOOD FOR YOU SYLUS GET IT. I love this for him and that he felt safe enough to sleep even though he's nocturnal. Or she sucked the soul right out of his dick and knocked him out cold 😭 the sex was so astronomically soul ascending i guess LMFAO

Again, I'm sorry if I got anything wrong. These are just my thoughts, and they are surface level!

[gemapples]

my new year's artwork won't be done until tomorrow, but i at least wanted to make a little post celebrating it before it turns! see you in 2025 ❤️

going into a personal ramble about my year under the cut. im mostly just talking to the void but feel free to read if you want!

this year has been. wow. if i had to put the definition of an emotional rollercoaster it would be this year for me

so much happened, yet so much DIDN'T happen simultaneously?? i don't really know how to think tbh 😭 i think above all i'm relieved it's over and i get to (hopefully) have a fresh start again

i got a lot accomplished this year. i graduated and got a degree which is a huge thing!!! i went for and accomplished lot of difficult things i had to do that i wouldn't even think about considering last year, and i feel my mental health has been beyond improved from it. last year i took note of how i consistently put myself in a box to make others happy, and i noticed i significantly improved in regards to how i see myself and made sure to put my own health first. there's still MUCH more to work on, god, and i've still been struggling with it, but i've been taking steps and that's all that matters to me. i want to continue taking better care of myself next year

on the downside though.. a bunch of personal stuff i had no control over happened in july and to put it in a way, i was scared for my life. it's settled now, and even got better, but i haven't been that terrified in a very long time. it was so difficult for me to cope with and i'm very grateful it's not something to worry about anymore, but i would be lying if i said i wasn't scared for what horrific event next year will bring for me. i noticed the past few years, something awful happened that made me seriously question, doubt or even straight up hating myself :') and i'm not looking forward to experiencing that again next year in the slightest. but at least, i'll try to get better at it

i've felt pretty disappointed and unhappy with my art this year as well, for whatever reason. it was mentioned to me that it could just be burnout (i HAVE been drawing more consistently than i ever have throughout this year, especially due to college, which makes sense) but whatever i try to do experimental-wise, i just can't be happy with it. i think the major reason is the way i've been shading, because i might be instinctively holding myself back. i don't want my art to be too eyestrainy or give people headaches by looking at it obviously, but i feel like as a result i've been making my art feel too "muddy" for my liking. so! i decided one of my new years resolutions will be to be way more spontaneous with the way i use colors and try not to put that box on myself. one thing i can say is, i tried a Lot of new things with art this year, including working on complex backgrounds, putting in way more effort into pieces enough to be full illustrations, etc etc. and i hope to break a ton more boundaries next year too. regardless, i can't thank you enough for your continued support. it seriously means a ton to me. i know i repeat myself a lot but i always mean it

hopefully 2025 will bring us more kirby too! we haven't had a full year without a new kirby game since 2021, and even then forgotten land got revealed! so i get the feeling something HUGE is coming. also looking forward to pokemon legends z-a too (im insane over it). and the hypothetical manager magolor plush. <- copium.

thanks for reading, and i hope 2025 is a fun, enjoyable year. hopefully it'll be nice to us

~ mac ❤️

[shepscapades]

SHEP. SHEP YOUVE DEVASTATED ME ONCE AGAIN.

Bigshot as Andriod 24....you're so right. It so encapsulates what 24 thinks of Xisuma

"You're always just a bit shy following behind/I think you've spent enough time singing the same lines" <- 24's resentment toward Xisuma, perhaps? Or a desire for something more, something better?

"I'm screaming for a life that I cannot have" AAAUUUGHHH perishing. throwing up. rolling over in agony. When the music cuts out and it's raw vocals really adds to the effect

And the oh's at the end, the screaming. I love Jhariah's music so much and I feel like it showcases the rawness of 24's emotions that us, from the perspective of Xisuma, don't get to see often.

AND the transition into FIRE4FUN feels like if 24 spiraled into slight insanity.

Anyways I'm a huge Jhariah fan and will now be thinking of every song in the context of dbhc (especially Russian Doll as Etho post-destruction).

RAHHHHHHH YES!!!!! oh my god yes absolutely all of this!!! There's so much i could freaking say about this song, and If you'll indulge me a slight ramble: i think so much of it is like, this double meaning with lyrics. Like, yes, BIG SHOT. 24 hates Xisuma so much (for some reason, later to be explored, but hinted at a little bit in the spotify wrapped art), he sneeringly calls X a bigshot, because X must think he's so big and powerful and important, but this song also feels like. almost like 24 is beating up on himself? Like, "oh, you think you're a big shot, huh? Think you're so big and strong and powerful despite how small you feel?" and that sense of fighting to overcome his sense of inadequacy and shame and anger is just SO infuriating that it fuels him even more.

Lyrics like "You're always just a bit shy, following behind" AGAIN, could totally be 24 sneering at Xisuma, because X isn't the most outwardly outgoing person, and from 24's perspective, it's like ohhhhh, you're putting up this shy guy front, you must think you're so smart! BUT ALSO. "a bit shy" as in, coming up just short of a goal, always falling short, and that as a double meaning for both 24 and Xisuma is just so. passes out. I could go on like this for like every lyric i need to eat glass OH AND!!! FIRE4FUN is actually on Cub's playlist >:3 god so many songs from the TRUST CEREMONY album are on various dbhc playlists, but primarily 24 and hels. Xisuma has one and cub has one, but that's it (i think).

[mythalism]

at this point im just ranting bc im on my period have been cooped up at home for 4 days as a result and havent taken my adderall today so theres a lot happening in my noggin

idk for some reason settling on the word "palatable" just now for solas's writing in veilguard but also the game as a whole just really struck me powerfully because i think it also really encapsulates why it pisses me the fuck off so bad on a personal level. because i literally hate shit like that LOL. growing up a girl with audhd i have spent my life being the one of LEAST palatable people in the room at all times and constantly being told i should be more palatable, dont talk so loud, dont talk so much, dont say things like that! people would like you better if you werent so harsh, you're an acquired taste, you're a tough pill to swallow. you're too political. etc etc ETC and i literally have become more palatable with age but also WITH GREAT EFFORT bc it was so clear to me my whole life that i would continue to (unintentionally) upset and make people uncomfortable with my honesty and intensity just by being myself around them. and you maybe wondering wtf this has to do with dragon age and media in general but i think its because as a result, I LOVE UN-PALATABLE THINGS!!!! BECAUSE I AM ALSO UNPALATABLE. and i think anyone who has experienced this will know what im talking about and if you dont well this post isnt for u. but i want stories to be like a punch to the fucking face. i want INTENSITY!!! i even took that quiz that went around recently and got the one that was like "you read books that challenge your worldview" YEAH!!!!! even things that i disagree with or dislike i will always respect if they pack a fucking punch.

like i hate passivity. i hate in both in people and in media. this isnt a personal drag or attack if u are the kind of person i am talking about. but see how i felt the compulsive need to disclaim that? hm. i hate it because it has never been something that came naturally to me and has always been forced upon me. i hate when people wont speak the fuck up. i hate capitulation. i hate indecisiveness. i hate when people shy away from conflict. these are all things that have repeatedly been the source of interpersonal conflict for me throughout my entire life. and like obviously im a grown adult and i have learned a LOT and am able to handle myself with sensitivity and maturity. i can recognize time and place and appropriateness and be passive and unobtrusive when necessary or when in my or someone else's best interest. i can understand and empathize with people who are the opposite of me and are passive, and avoidant, and afraid of conflict, and quiet. and i have plenty of wonderful relationships in my life and practice healthy conflict resolution regularly like fr dont worry about me. however there is always going to be a little girl inside me who resents that i will always have to tone myself down to meet the standard of easy-enough-to-swallow woman because thats what our world values rather than anyone else ever bothering to meet me at the level of intensity i naturally operate on or even just allowing me to be bonkers in peace.

and all of this absolutely manifests in what stories and art resonates with me. i prefer visual art that is bright, colorful, and intense. all of my favorite stories since i was a child and couldnt even recognize these patterns are unapologetic, emotionally powerful, and loudly political. there are a lot great shows movies games books etc. that i am sure are great and well done, but if they do not have a level of rocking my SHIT, i am simply not going to be a super fan. I LOVED DRAGON AGE FOR ROCKING MY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!! its probably why da2 is my favorite because it is all of these things that people have been telling me to tamp down on since i was a kid. unapologetic, intense, punch to the face, insane emotional rollercoaster. i love that it challenged the player. its probably why i love tragedy too, and the solavellan romance because its literally painful. also definitely why i love cyberpunk so much and why i fell in love with it so fast, because if there is a game that punches you in the face, its cyberpunk 2077. like johnny literally punches you in the face. anyway ive already written abt this in another post so ill move on now but WOW. PLESAE!!!!! DRAGON AGE PLEASE PUNCH ME IN THE FACE!!!! MAKE ME FEEL SOMETHING!!!! MATCH MY FREAK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SAY SOMETHING!!!! SAY SOMETHING SO I DONT FEEL LIKE THE ONLY PERSON OUT THERE WHOS SAYING SOMETHING!!!!!! i love seeing people be as opinionated and unapologetic as i feel even if i dont let it out. EVEN WHEN I DISAGREE!!!!!!!! this is why you dont see me arguing with posts i disagree with of rancid bad takes on this website. BC I RESPECT THAT SOMEONE HAD THE BALLS TO POST THEIR NONSENSE IN THE FIRST PLACE. UR WRONG BUT GO OFF!!!!!!! there is just something so valuable to me in seeing people express themselves and be loud and unashamed. maybe sometimes they should be ashamed but the inner child in me is happy that they are even given the space to be wrong. doesnt mean i wont disagree equally loudly on my own page, but i just HAAAAATE not speaking up. and i especially hate when being quiet and passive is portrayed as the "right" thing to do, more mature, and superior.

AND THATS VEILGUARD. literally take all of this and apply it to video game form. thats veilguard. safe, passive, palatable. we went from blowing up churches to enabling regicide to....... book club? thats a completely unfair and poor example, im aware, but this isnt a real essay its just a rant, and i know you know what i mean. and to be fair, inquisition was already step in this direction, but boy was veilguard a LEAP. olympic long-jump, even. inquisition is toned down compared to the fucking insanity of da2 and origins, but it still has moments enough to keep me feeling like it has a backbone and something to SAY, that it was brave enough to ask me to think, that it wasnt mass produced soylent green slop manufactured for easy digestion.

but veilguard is. the central message is passivity. the central message is DO. NOTHING. dont try to change things. dont speak up for what you believe in. you might mess up the world!!!!! do you understand how this is a video game manifestation of a sentiment that has smothered me my entire life. do you understand why it is so frustrating to see a series that once asked me to think for myself, to choose, to take action, to DO SOMETHING, go from asking for my opinion in judgement on a character's crimes to telling me not to think too hard at all? to go from allowing me to interrogate every character for their opinions and life story and pick their brains, to not even allowing for a real conversation? to put two choices in front of me and say PICK ONE!!!! AND LIVE WITH THE CONSEQUENCES!!!! TO PUNCH ME IN THE FACE WITH A DEVASTATING STORY THAT HAS SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT THE WORLD?!??!?!!? EVEN IF THE STATEMENT IS SOME CANADIAN NEOLIB BULLSHIT THAT I DISAGREE WITH????? AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ahem. veilguard genuinely honest to fucking god encourages me as the player to do the very fucking thing that my evil elementary school music teacher wanted from me when i talked too much in class or when my mom told me people would like me more if i wasnt so "intense". shut up, do not ask questions, do not have an opinion, do not express that opinion loudly or in a way that others cannot handle, do not get too excited, dont try to change anything, do not take action, do not get angry. and join the fucking book club. or don't actually, because rook cant even do that. someone is probably going to read this and be like "wow its not that deep" and ur right its not that deep. but i am analyzing why i have such a visceral reaction to this dumbass fucking game and i have figured it out so if you dont like it you can leave. and if you love that veilguard is relaxing and chill and "COZY" that is great for you truly cheers. the world needs people that are passive and diplomatic and quiet and dont rock the boat and quiet and i am 100% dead serious. i know its gonna sound like im being a backhanded bitch because as aforementioned i have chronic bitch syndrome but i am dead serious that all of those traits ARE VALUABLE and have a place in this world and we need games that are relaxing and unobtrusive and P A L A T A B L E just like we need people that can be that way but that is not ME and that was NOT DRAGON AGE and to LOSE DRAGON AGE TO THAT PRESSURE HITS TOO CLOSE TO HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU TOOK MY MEAN MESSY UGLY LOUD FUCKED UP BABY AND GAVE IT A FUCKING TIK TOK FILTER AND CHANGED THE TEXT FROM "KILL" TO "UNALIVE"!!!!!!!! GIVE HER BACK!!!!!!!!!!!! GIVE HER BACK THAT MEAN MESSY UGLY LOUD FUCKED UP BABY WAS MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

feel free to respond in the replies if you relate or resonate with this i know this is very personal but i would love to discuss further with people if you understand what im saying . however if u are an asshole prepare to feel the full force of my wrath because as i said above i hold back a lot but i am simply not in the mood today xoxo kisses

[vulpisnocturna]

Binding Vow - Part III

This is the last part of Binding Vow 🤍

Part I

Part II

Read on AO3

I do not condone this behaviour. This is purely fictional. Please read warnings and avoid if you find any of them triggering.

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, Chrollo being a pretentious bastard, Chrollo mansplains, Emotional Manipulation, Controlling behaviour, Yandere Chrollo, Kidnapping, Captivity, Reader is struggling, dubcon, NSFW

Word Count: 7.6k

You were insane. You were deranged, and spineless and pathetic. Waking up with Chrollo’s arm holding you to him, possessive and stifling as always, you had actually felt good about it. You, the captive, the prisoner, the trophy possession he had decided to steal for himself. You had liked his touch, and had felt comforted by it. You had wanted the moment to last forever, that feeling of being in Chrollo’s good books and not having to fear for his next move. If you just accepted it, liked the physical reaction of your body, did what he wanted, it was so much easier.

The past two weeks after your escape had almost been... peaceful. Chrollo hadn’t punished you, and so long as you sat on his lap, made out with him and spoke to him, he was gentle, kind and lenient. He was waiting for you to sleep with him, not forcing himself on you, even though you weren’t sure you would even push him away. After all, kissing him felt so disgustingly good. Human contact felt so comforting, and you deserved to feel good, right? You had lived in torment for months now, and now that you had a modicum of normalcy, of happiness, it was normal to want to keep it. It was normal to want Chrollo to be happy. If Chrollo was happy, or whatever the comparable emotion was for someone like him, you were safe, comforted, treated kindly.

But this was Chrollo. Did you really want Chrollo to be happy, to show you that shit-eating smug smirk of his? To get what he wanted?

No. This wasn’t about Chrollo at all. This was about you. You were just looking out for yourself. Escape was impossible, and you would not get any mercy from him a second time even if you tried a second attempt. This was about self-preservation. This was about building a life for yourself with what you had. In that way, wasn’t this also brave?

‘Good morning, my love’ his husky voice reverberated in the crook of your neck, and he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, holding you closer, fingertips stroking your stomach. You tensed up a little, but did not attempt to push him away. Good mood. He was still in a good mood. You had learnt to tell his moods apart even though most of the time his face was blank or smug.

He turned you, stroking your hair and smiling at you, his eyes gleaming with some kind of emotion you were unable to name.

‘I was thinking that you have been so good for me lately, darling. I am willing to put behind the whole mistake of your escape if you continue to be so lovely and sweet. And, I was thinking I could take you on a date today. How does that sound?’ he asked, and you tried to contain the way your chest felt light with gratitude. He was willing to take you outside? Apart from your botched plan of escape, you hadn’t been outside for more than two months. You wanted it so badly. You needed it. Needed to see the outside world, needed to stretch your legs, to breathe in the clean air.

‘Uhm- where?’ you asked, still reticent about sounding too enthusiastic. This was still Chrollo, you reminded yourself. Still your kidnapper.

But... he was willing to take you outside. Even if you had tried to escape.

‘If you don’t feel up to it, we’ll stay home, of course. Don’t push yourself’ he said, stroking your cheek. Your breath faltered. No, you needed it.

‘No- I want to!’ you stammered, scared he might just be taunting you. It would destroy you if that was true. But Chrollo simply gave a soft laugh.

‘Relax, darling. I knew it would make you happy. We can go to an art gallery, and then, have some dinner before we come back’ he said, fiddling with the strap of your silk tank top, one of the many flimsy clothes he had bought for you, ‘however, there are some guidelines. They’re non-negotiable. But, if you follow them, you can expect to go on many more outings in the future’

Rules. He was giving you rules. You already had a feel for what he’d say, but you honestly did not care. So long as you got to see the outside world, you would do anything. Besides, trying to escape under his watchful eye would be impossible, especially since escaping when he was supposed to be away for hours had proven itself to be a complete disaster.

‘First, do not try to run from me. You know what would happen if you did. Do not ruin your streak, darling. Second, make no attempts to ask anyone to help you run from me. If you did, I’m afraid I would have to dispose of them, and you do not want that to happen, do you? Third, you must tell me if you are uncomfortable at any point. Do not force yourself to endure discomfort just to be outside. If you wish to go home at any point, we will, no questions asked. Fourth, I want to choose your clothes. It’s only fair, since I know the dress requirements of the place I plan to choose. Alright?’ he said, scanning your face.

You had expected the first two rules, and you did not even question them in your mind. Of course he would say that. But the third? Why would you feel distressed about being outside? It was all you ever needed or wanted. But you supposed you could accept, since it wasn’t going to happen. Chrollo had a nasty habit of picking your outfits anyway, it wouldn’t change anything. As revealing as he could make them, you could put up with it, if it meant you got to go. You doubted his nasty jealousy would allow him to make you go naked outside.

‘Okay’ you only said, and he smiled.

‘Good’ he smiled, kissing your forehead. Again, the fact that you did not flinch surprised you. He had kissed you so much in the past week that now, you saw it as normal. It shouldn’t be. But it was. And it meant you were going outside.

‘We’ll have breakfast outside. I’ll shave and have a shower in the main bathroom. If you wish to have one too, you can use this one. Unless you wish to join me’ he said, voice roguish and tempting, despite the fact that it only brought a grimace and a burning feeling on your face.

‘I’ll take this bathroom’ you muttered sourly. Chrollo did not seem fazed in the slightest as he stretched like a cat and lifted himself off the bed.

‘As you wish, darling’ he said, heading towards the wardrobe. You didn’t even want to see him leer at all the outfits he’d bought you, you didn’t want the anxiety of wondering if he’d pick one of those skimpy skirts that barely covered your ass. So you turned away again, facing the curtains of the wide window that offered a view of the whole city.

‘There. That’s perfect’ you heard, and curiosity (or maybe it was dread?) made you turn again, staring at the sage green dress he’d picked. It was fairly modest for his tastes, you thought. The length was a respectable one, possibly reaching the middle of your thighs, and the top had a cowl neckline that would expose some of your cleavage, but not too much. You were impressed. But perhaps you should have sniffed out the trap, because his other hand was holding matching black bra and panties, both obscene, all lace and barely concealing fabric. You tensed up, your cheeks heating up, mortified rage building up inside you as you glowered at him.

‘Consider this my payment for this date, darling. It’s only my imagination that will benefit from you wearing this, anyway. Unless you plan to seduce me’ he said slyly, smirking at you. You sneered. Of course not. All your physical contact was initiated or brought on by him. You didn’t want Chrollo. You didn’t like him. He was... a prick. He just happened to be unfairly hot. And good at sex.

‘I’m planning no such thing’ you snarled, and he tilted his head, folding the clothes and placing them on the bed.

‘Then I do not see an issue. Of course, you could go without wearing any. Or we could stay home. Your decision’ he said simply, nonchalantly.

Ah. Your decision. The mockery of one, at most.

‘Whatever’ you said, averting your eyes. Chrollo shot you one last look full of yearning before he grabbed a black suit from the wardrobe along with a white shirt and a black tie, exiting the bedroom.

You buried your face in the pillow, unwilling to look too much at the lingerie. Was he genuine when he said it would only be for his imagination? Or did he want you to wear it because he planned to fuck you that night? You hated the tightening of your lower stomach at the thought.

No, you didn’t want it to happen. It was dread, not longing.

You decided to act with the impression that he would not and stood up, snatching the clothes and locking yourself in the bathroom. Chrollo had never walked in on you in the bathroom, for which you were grateful. It was a minimal respect of your privacy, but for someone who crossed almost all of your boundaries with no regard for your say in the matter, it was astounding that he hadn’t picked the bathroom lock to get to you. And perhaps because it was your safest space from him, you had never tried to prolong your time in there or hide in that room, because you did not want him to take away what little privacy you had if he was under the impression you were using it to avoid him.

Perhaps it had to do with his gentlemanly façade, the front he put on, acting as though he was in any way chivalrous. It would ruin that image if he picked the lock of the bathroom to spy on a lady. But coercing her to wear slutty lingerie and keeping her captive were perfectly gallant things to do in his fucked up brain.

Regardless, you were glad to feel somewhat safe as you took off your tank top and shorts, turning the tap and stepping under the shower head. You sighed, trying to make it quick. You found yourself scrubbing and taking extra care in making sure you were pristine, and you hoped you were doing it in some kind of performative ritual because you were going outside and seeing people for the first time in two months and a half, and not because you thought Chrollo was going to see you naked. Although he had already seen you once, and his wandering hands were greedy when he had you on his lap, wearing flimsy silky nightgowns or his shirts. He was like a centipede when he got his hands on you. It felt like he had dozens of them.

When you got out and reluctantly put on the strapless bra and the lacy excuse for underwear he’d chosen, you were both impressed and revolted by the way they both fit you like a glove. How the hell could he know your exact measurements? Though all the clothes he’d ever gotten you always fit perfectly, even though you had never tried any of them before, the fact that he knew the precise measurements of your tits was disconcerting.

And despite how much you might hate him for making you wear that lewd set, you had to admit it was undeniably sexy on you. Which only made you angrier.

You ground your teeth, slipping on the dress he’d chosen, finding that one also fit you perfectly. You even put on mascara and nude lipstick. You got out after drying your hair and putting on the ridiculously expensive perfume he’d bought for you, finding him casually lounging on the armchair by the window, perfectly groomed and dressed. The suit was much classier than his cross-riddled fur coat, and he might even seem a gentleman in it. Well, except for the stupid cloth on his forehead. As out of place and ridiculous as it should have looked, it did nothing to make him look any worse. He only stood out more.

His covetous eyes raked your figure, his lips parting slightly as he stood up, making you feel like prey under his hungry gaze.

‘You look... truly stunning, darling’ he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist and hips, his lips seeking out yours. You were engulfed by the minty scent of his aftershave and the heady, expensive cologne he always wore, creating a mix that had you squirming in his hold as he kissed you, tongue greedily tracing your lower lip. His mouth traced a feverish line to your throat, and he breathed in, groaning softly, making your thighs press together instinctively.

Was he...?

‘Don’t fear, sweetheart. I won’t trap you beneath me and rip this pretty dress off you... though you are so tempting right now’ he whispered seductively against your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe, and you bit your lip hard, swallowing a whimper.

‘You’re a pretty little thing, you know that? Part of me wants to keep you home and taste your lips again and again’ he continued, hand cupping your ass, squeezing possessively. You swallowed, your eyes widening, pulse shooting up.

‘No- want to go outside- you said-‘ you started, but was shushed by his finger on your lips.

‘I am a man of my word, darling. I said I’d take you on a date, and that is what I’m going to do’ he said, giving you one last heated kiss before he released you.

‘Now, for the finishing touches’ he said, heading to the dresser and opening a box. Gold gleamed between his fingers as he approached you, and you stared at the emerald pendant and matching dangling earrings he had picked up.

‘Did you steal those?’ you murmured, and he let out a soft scoff.

‘Does it matter? Which one would make you feel better?’ he asked, gathering your hair and holding it, his head dipping as you stood in front of the mirror, frozen in place as his lips grazed your nape, sending shivers down your spine with the way his stormy eyes were fixed on you.

‘I guess not’ you breathed, and he smirked, putting the necklace on you and straightening it up on your sternum. Next, he released your hair and put on the earrings. You had to begrudgingly admit they were stunning. But that was to be expected. Chrollo liked to steal beautiful things. According to him, you were one of them.

‘Ready, my love?’ he asked, and you nodded. The shoes that were waiting for you at the door were heels, but luckily, they weren’t too high, and did not look too uncomfortable. Chrollo started to get on his knees, and you grimaced, picking up the heels and sitting on the sofa, putting them on yourself. You also took the dark coat he handed you yourself instead of letting him hold it for you. You refused to be a doll he could just dress up. He nonchalantly smoothed his jacket, seemingly unfazed by your rejection as his aura focused around his hand and his blasted book appeared between his fingers.

You stood next to him, and his hand snaked around your waist, holding you possessively as the lock clicked. The book disappeared, and he guided you outside and towards the lift.

Your fingers were trembling at your sides, and your gaze was greedy as it took in the outside world, the people walking by, your lungs filling with the clean air, your skin basking in the pale sunlight.

Chrollo led you to his car, or at least, the one he was currently using, opening the door for you and insisting on holding your hand as you sat down. He closed it behind you, circling the car and sitting down, immediately locking the door. As tempting as the thought of throwing yourself out of the moving car was, you had no intention of trying to escape, but you knew he would always take precautions anyway. Perhaps it was part of the reason why escaping him was impossible.

He drove through the city centre with a hand steady on your thigh except for when he had to change gear, but you could hardly care. Your gaze was fixed on the window, drinking in the buildings, the shops fleeting by, the statues and houses and the people walking on the pavement.

He parked in an underground parking space next to the gallery, once again feigning chivalry as he opened your door and helped you outside. You let him, because you did not want to cut your time short. You wanted to make the most of this day.

There were a lot of people in line, and to your surprise, Chrollo calmly walked to the end of it and stood there, patiently waiting. You stood next to him, feeling oddly breathless, as though your ribcage had tightened. So many people. You hadn’t seen so many people for so long. Their chattering was loud, they moved around you and you couldn’t keep an eye on all of them. Had being a captive ingrained in you the need to keep a watchful gaze on everyone around you?

You felt slightly nauseous.

‘Everything alright, darling?’ Chrollo’s voice came to you slightly muffled, and you swallowed, nodding quickly, terrified he would take you back home if you showed any sign of discomfort.

‘Too many people?’ he offered, and you focused on a spot far away under the stone arcades.

‘No. I’m fine’ you said much too quickly, your legs feeling slightly weak, to the point you had to lean on Chrollo. Was this why he’d chosen to stay in the line whilst he could have paid to skip it? Just to show you that you needed him in the crowd? To take you back home? You forced yourself to stand tall and by yourself, but Chrollo had already tightened his hold on you, trapping your side to his.

‘I wouldn’t want you to fall, dearest. We can still go home, you know’ he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. You gritted your teeth.

‘No’ you hissed, your throat tightening when you heard how hostile your tone sounded, ‘please. I want to stay, Chrollo’ you added, sweetening your voice, knowing his ego always adored the sound of your begging.

‘Hmh... you’ll need to stay close to me, dear. You seem quite fragile at the moment, so I will need you to hold onto me’ he said, his eyes smug and his smirk self-satisfied.

You pressed your lips together, wishing you could debate with him, tell him no, but his rule and the fact that he had the last say were vivid in your mind. It was his fleeting satisfaction over a day of joy for you.

You leaned against him again, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

He kissed the top of your head, rubbing your upper arm, moving along the line. Minutes passed, and Chrollo did not seem to want to let you go, and you did not seem to want to admit to yourself that his closeness, his stable presence holding you in the swarming crowd was reassuring.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you reached the ticket box. Chrollo bought two tickets for the exhibit, leading you towards the first room. You lost yourself reading the brochure, flicking through the different exhibits, your eyes nearly popping out of your skull as they set on Van Gogh. One of your favourite painters, and apparently, most of his artworks were now here for a short time. Had Chrollo known?

‘That is the first smile you’ve shown me that reaches your pretty eyes’ he said, his eyes glinting with some kind of genuine fondness as he stared at you.

‘You knew?’ you whispered, struggling to believe he would do something genuinely nice for you. Not something Chrollo liked, something you liked.

‘That you have a predilection for Van Gogh, or that his paintings would be here? Of course, to both’ he said, and you stared at him, suspicion extending its tendrils in your mind.

‘Are you... planning to steal them?’ you asked, eyes narrowed. Chrollo smirked, tilting his chin up and glancing at you with a sardonic look in his grey eyes.

‘Why? Would you like a specific one? I could arrange that’ he said easily, and you shook your head, disbelieving.

‘No- of course not’ you muttered.

‘A pity. If it gifted me another pretty smile, I would steal all of his paintings’ he said with something akin to reverence, stopping in the middle of the empty room to stroke your cheek, staring intently at you.

‘That’s- wrong’ you stammered, trying to vanquish his stupidly romantic display of affection. He was completely without morals nor did he have any sane conceptions of what was acceptable to do for something as trivial as a smile.

‘Why? Numerous museums have stolen artwork throughout the centuries, and somehow, that is moral? None of these museums paid Van Gogh for his artistry. They are fair game’ he said smoothly, and you stared at him, blinking in disbelief.

‘To you, everything is fair game’ you said. Chrollo smiled, fingers curling on your waist, under your unbuttoned coat.

‘Darling, you are so straitlaced. When you can appreciate something more than the masses, you are entitled to take it for yourself. Beautiful things deserve the right amount of appreciation, which most people cannot provide’ he said, and you had a vague idea of what he was really talking about in more detailed terms as he leaned over you, eyes gleaming with self-assurance.

‘Do you think any of these inane, mediocre individuals could truly love you? See your beauty, appreciate you, know you like I do? I am the only one who can truly give you what you deserve. I can give you anything’ he said in a soft, fervent voice, kissing your cheek, making your head spin with his delusional world views and the headiness of his tone.

‘Do you remember when I fucked you, darling? Of course you do. You were begging and whining for me, for my fingers, my tongue, my cock. Do you think any of these people would know how to fuck you like I do? How to make you scream and sob with need? Or maybe you don’t remember too well. But I will remind you soon. It might be tomorrow, in a few days, a week from now, but you will see. There is so much I want to do to you’ he was practically purring in your ear, voice low and inebriating, full of sinful promises that made your heart drum in your ears and your lower stomach hot with want.

Tomorrow? A few days? Then- he was going to fuck you soon. You felt dizzy, and you were not wholly convinced it was from dread.

‘You’re a creep’ you mouthed, terrified of his effect on you. If you’d been religious, you’d have thought he really was Lucifer incarnate. The temptation of the most beautiful of God’s angels really did feel real when Chrollo made it known what he wanted to do to you.

‘Oh? You think I can’t hear you mewl in your sleep, darling? God, if you knew how much control I need to exert to keep from burying my head between your thighs. Do you dream of me, my love?’ he continued, and your eyes widened, your heart skipping a beat as ferocious shame gripped your throat. No, he was bluffing. You couldn’t have... if he knew-

‘Of my ex’ you said, because he was humiliating you and you couldn’t bear his smug grin and the satisfaction and hunger you could hear in his voice.

Chrollo’s grip on you tightened, and he straightened up, his eyes burning with jealousy, but his lips curled in a nasty smirk.

‘Little liar. We’ll see’ he said, voice thick as honey, and you shivered, hugging your body as you went to look at the paintings. Chrollo followed you leisurely, like a shadow. It was as though there was a string connecting the two of you. Where you went, he was right behind you, if not already touching you.

The paintings in the first five rooms were the oldest, with gold painted on religious imagery, ugly infants and static anatomy. Still, your eyes drank the paintings in like you were dying of thirst, looking for the beauty in a world where Chrollo was the dealer of what you were allowed to see.

When you stopped for more than half a minute to stare at a painting, you had already walked through ten rooms, ignoring Chrollo’s pretentious chiming in with random historical facts and art lessons.

It was beautiful. No. That wasn’t right. It was petrifying. “Judith beheads Holofernes”, the silver plate read next to it. Artemisia Gentileschi. A woman.

There were two women and a man in the painting. One of the women was holding down the man onto a bed, whilst the other one was in the middle of slicing his head with a sword.

The world seemed to stand still as your eyes wandered around the canvas, taking in the colours, the skill, the beauty of it. But it wasn’t the artistic skills of that painting that mesmerised you. No, it was the rage. It was the sheer disgust, revulsion and fury that seeped through the blood trickling down the mattress and spurting in the air, spattering her dress. Punishment. Vengeance.

‘How macabre’ chimed in Chrollo, obviously unperturbed by the gore of the painting, ‘I did not know you had a bloodthirsty side to you, darling’

You ignored him. You’d felt that rage. That need for retribution. You knew what it was for.

‘I hope you’re not picturing doing that to me’ he said, and then sighed, stroking your hair, ‘Artemisia Gentileschi. She was raped by her father’s friend, and though she was tortured, she maintained her story throughout the trial that followed, which resulted in the conviction of her rapist. Her paintings do seem to reflect her exacting vengeance on him’

You looked at the woman in the painting, silently recognising her strength, standing in awe of it.

‘I could steal it for you if you like it so. Though I would not want you to get fanciful ideas’ he said. You couldn’t help but scoff. You could not say you were in the same position as Artemisia had been, but you understood the sentiment well. At times, you had wanted to behead Chrollo with a broadsword and bathe in his blood.

Who would have guessed that now, he was your only source of solace. That you did not shy away from his touch, that you dreamt of it.

‘I’d rather you stole me a broadsword’

‘As captivating as the sight of you brandishing one would be, I’m afraid I cannot do that’ he said, and you nodded absentmindedly. Obviously.

Chrollo bought breakfast at the art café, and you resumed the visit after that.

But nothing else captured your mind like that one painting. Well, until you got to the room where Van Gogh’s painting were displayed. If Artemisia’s paintings had filled you with respect and petrified you with their rage, Van Gogh rooted you to the spot with the sheer emotion of his art.

You could not stop yourself from smiling, and your eyes shone bright. You didn’t even care that Chrollo was staring at you like a hawk.

Again he offered to steal them for you. You denied wanting that, telling him that you wanted as many people as possible to bask in the beauty of them, and that you wanted them to acknowledge a painter who had never been appreciated in his lifetime.

‘You are so sweet, my love’ he said, holding you to him.

You weren’t sure you would not find Van Gogh’s sunflowers staring at you the next morning.

By the time you were finished with the visit, you were ecstatic. Yes, you had had to endure Chrollo’s centipede hands throughout the day, but you had seen so much, and felt alive. And he hadn’t even been too stifling.

‘I- thank you, Chrollo’ you said once you were back in the car, hoping this would happen again. He turned to you, staring at you, his usually cold grey eyes shining with warmth, his smile, for once, genuine.

‘It was my pleasure, darling’ he said, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, devoid of the hunger that usually seeped through them. One that, if you ignored the past two months and a half, would have you swooning.

He smiled against your lips, planting a kiss on your forehead and pulling out of the parking spot.

The restaurant he’d chosen was just as luxurious as you had expected from someone like him. He sat in front of you in the secluded booth, reading the menu. You did the same, tempted to get the most expensive thing just to put an indent in his wallet. Though it probably would be pocket change to him. And if not, he could always arrange stealing something to make up for the loss.

He ordered Cabernet, and you considered getting drunk to make the date with your kidnapper less awkward. But you didn’t think he’d let you down too many glasses of wine.

Still, you sipped it avidly, glaring at him when he scoffed.

‘Darling, am I such bad company that you have to drown your sorrows in wine?’ he asked, clearly a rhetorical question.

‘Yes’ you said, and he let out a soft laugh.

‘Are you sure you want to inhibit your senses around me? Considering I’m such bad company?’ he mused, sipping his wine, his pretty lips stained blood red. You put the glass down, scowling and going back to deciding what you wanted to eat.

You settled for steak, surprised to see he ordered the same. You had expected him to get something pompous like lobster.

The meal was undeniably amazing, even though Chrollo had taken it upon himself to interview you about what you’d thought of all the paintings, clearly trying to exhibit his own knowledge, which turned into you trying to one-up him. That might also have been a ploy from his part to get you to argue with him.

‘Interesting. When you’re not so nervous, you’re quite self-assured, darling. Perhaps the thought of being seen as less knowledgeable than I am is unbearable in your mind. Is it to do with sexism? I assure you, the fact that you’re a woman makes no difference to me in terms of your intelligence. Which is, of course, of the highest degree’ he said, and you groaned, staring at him and taking another gulp of Cabernet, even though no amount of wine could save you from him dissecting your brain and being pretentious.

‘Don’t psychoanalyse me. And stop trying to be a feminist icon to impress me. It rings hollow after what you have done’ you said, thinking yourself bold with your quips. Perhaps you should settle down. After all, this was still your mass murdering captor.

‘Ah. I treat you with the highest regard, my love. It wounds me to hear you be so bitter when this day made you so happy. Have I not earned some affection from your part by spoiling you today? Perhaps you need more from me’ his eyes took a lustful light, and you squirmed, shutting up. Which only earned you a smirk.

Once the bottle of wine had been finished, Chrollo got you water, claiming he did not want you to get drunk. You eyed the price on the bill, astonished that one meal could cost so much. But he merely swiped his card and closed the leather case that hid it from view, standing up and offering you his hand. You got up, walking with him outside.

The ride home was fairly silent, because you did not look forward to be back not knowing when you would get another chance at seeing the outside world, and Chrollo was focused on driving and palming your lower thigh. You looked at the sunset, lost in the orange and purple hues, completely enraptured by the beauty of it. It would be nice to stay out for a while longer, but you knew not to push the buttons. He had said art gallery and dinner, and that was what you had done. Now it was time to go home.

You wondered if he would make you sit on his lap and kiss him again tonight, as he’d done since your escape attempt. Somehow, the thought made you hot all over. Well, he had certainly seemed keen enough at the gallery, you thought, your cheeks hot.

Chrollo parked the car, leading you to the lift and back to the flat, where he locked the door with his stupid book and discarded his coat, taking yours off. You slipped off your heels, your feet sore from a day of wearing them, and started to head to the bathroom to change. If he wanted to make out with you, he could wait for you to get comfortable, as loosely as that word could be used in such a situation.

You had made it to the bedroom when Chrollo caged you in his arms, pulling you into him from behind you, getting your hair out of the way to leave languid kisses on your neck, his hands splayed on your stomach. You stopped dead in your tracks, giggling nervously, already feeling the effects of the wine and Chrollo’s touch getting to you.

‘Uhm- let me change-‘ you muttered, your eyes fluttering close when he started sucking on the junction of your clavicle.

‘There’s no need. I’ll peel it off you soon enough, darling’ he breathed against your ear, voice intoxicating, deep and sultry, and you squirmed, your heart rate going through the roof with the realisation that he wanted to sleep with you now. God.

No, you had to push him away. That was the right thing to do, right? He was... Chrollo, and his tongue was following your artery, and it felt like hell and heaven had combined, and you couldn’t think...

‘I’m tired of waiting. I am going to show you just what I can make you feel, darling. I’ll be so good to you’ he said breathily, hands cupping your breasts, fingers grazing your stiffening nipples. You choked a whimper, torn between the overwhelming pleasure and the equally crushing shame.

He groaned against you, pushing himself against your ass, earning another strangled yelp from you when you felt the hard bulge of his erection against it.

He whispered your name like a prayer, turning your head and kissing you hungrily, teeth sinking in your bottom lip, sucking, licking while he fisted your hair and turned you around, pulling you more into him.

Your mind seemed to shut off completely, taken over by the desire that had accumulated in weeks of torturing make-out sessions with no reprieve, to the point where your body was burning and aching for his touch, and nothing else mattered except the taste of wine in his mouth and the grip he had on you.

He pulled back, pupils dilated and eyes dark with lust, gaze lingering on your lips as he pulled down the zipper on your ribcage, greedily devouring you with a mere stare as you stood there, rapt and consumed by desire, your mind a blur.

He lowered the straps of your dress, pulling it down until it pooled at your feet. You burnt as his eyes trailed down your body, shameless and ravenous.

‘That’s even better than what I had imagined. Oh, darling, if you knew...’ he groaned, his hands immediately splaying on the expanse of your back, trailing down to squeeze and knead your ass harshly while his mouth was busy sucking on your neck, making you whimper as you clung to his shoulders.

He pushed you towards the bed, pulling you on his lap. You straddled him, utterly deranged with pleasure as he licked the valley of your breasts, grinding you on his lap. You let out a moan, pulling at his hair, which only made him rougher as he slapped your ass and gripped it, sending a surge of pleasure to your clit.

‘Get on your knees for me, darling. I want those pretty lips wrapped around my cock’ he groaned against your ear, and you swallowed, shame making your face burn. It was one thing to go with the flow and let him do things to you, quite another to actively pleasure him. But you would be a liar if you said the thought did not make you wet. And it was all unfair and humiliating and yet, and yet...

You pressed your lips together, yelping when your bra ripped under his hands and he threw it away.

‘I’ll buy you another one’ he groaned, pinching your nipples and sucking one into his feverish mouth, grazing it with his teeth until you were rutting against him, your hands cradling his head.

‘On your knees now, sweetheart’ he pressed, and you breathed in shakily, lowering yourself from his lap onto the floor, swallowing your shame as Chrollo stared down at you, taking off his jacket and shirt, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling his cock out, stroking it in his hand. Degrading as it was, infuriating as it was, he was so unfairly attractive. From the expanse of his toned stomach to the thick cock in front of you to the unruly hair that framed his face and the lust-laden grey eyes boring into you.

He let go of his cock to gather your hair into his fist, stroking your cheek and your bottom lip, pushing his thumb inside. You hesitantly sucked it, pressing your tongue against it, and he smirked, eyes gleaming with ravenous lust as he pulled it away and you wrapped your much smaller hand around the base of his cock, unable to touch your fingers with your thumb.

You stroked him, looking up at him as you tentatively licked the slit at the tip, and he let out a soft moan, his lips parting as his fingers tightened around your hair.

Emboldened by his reaction, you wrapped your lips around the reddened tip, tongue twirling around it.

‘Good girl, keep your eyes on me’ he breathed, looking dishevelled for the first time as you sank further in, licking the underside of his cock, hollowing your cheeks.

‘Fuck’ he groaned, his hips twitching, to the point where he reached the back of your throat and you choked a little, breathing hard through your nose. You weren’t even two thirds of the way in.

‘You can take it, darling. You’re doing so well. You look ravishing’ he praised, and you pushed a little more, tears starting to sting in your eyes, your lips wet with saliva as you struggled to keep your eyes on him.

You got a little more used to his size, and you managed to take a little more. What you couldn’t take with your mouth you made up for with your hand, rotating it slightly as you pulled back and forth on him, watching him start to breathe more unevenly, his eyes narrowed, the skin of his neck slightly flushed.

‘That’s my girl. You’re such a pretty little slut for me. I knew it’ he taunted, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but moan, continuing to pleasure him though it killed your pride.

He started to guide your head, not too forcefully, but he was definitely getting more eager as you picked up the pace and sank to his pelvis, tearing a breathless moan from him that made your panties even more soaked than they already were.

‘Oh, darling. My good girl. Fuck- I’m close. Keep going, and swallow, m’kay? Going to make you feel so good after, I promise’ he huffed out, and you hollowed your cheeks, struggling to breathe, tears running down your face as you kept going, until he stilled, his eyes closing, head facing the ceiling as he came in your mouth with a soft moan.

You swallowed heavily, panting as he slipped out of your mouth. He stared at you for a few seconds, his lips parted, his eyes narrowed with pleasure, before he pulled you up by your arm and threw you underneath him on the bed, kissing you, his hands roving down your body.

‘Such a good girl- let me return the favour, my dear’ he breathed, sucking on your nipples, straying down your stomach and spreading your thighs. You stared at him, panting and hot all over as he pressed his nose against your clit, licking a wet stripe along your labia over the wet lace of your panties. You let out a breathless moan, hips jerking against him, and he let out a soft groan, smirking at you.

‘How I missed this’ he murmured, pulling on your panties until they ripped, clearly unfamiliar with just slipping them off. But your quips were soon forgotten when he flung one leg on his shoulder and dipped his tongue inside you, kneading your ass as he flicked your clit and rolled it in his tongue.

You pulled at his hair, your hands catching onto the cloth of his forehead, which fell on you. He tossed it away, sucking on your clit, his hand snaking between your thighs, two fingers dipping inside you and curling, making you arch your back and let out a loud moan.

He started thrusting his fingers in and out, dragging them along your walls, his mouth keenly occupied with your clit, until you couldn’t take it anymore and started convulsing underneath him, trembling as he pinned you down and forced you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

He switched his mouth and fingers, his tongue slipping inside you, tasting you, his fingers rubbing and rolling your clit through the comedown of your orgasm, until you pushed him away when you started feeling too sensitive.

He wiped his chin with his mouth, sucking his fingers clean and smirking at you, the picture of debauchery as he gave you a sultry look.

He took off the remainder of his clothes, turning you on your stomach and lifting your hips.

‘Does my pet want a rough fucking? You deserve it, after all. You’ve been so patient, squirming on my lap for weeks’ he said against your ear, gripping your hip, his free hand wrapped around your throat.

You only moaned, and he must have been satisfied, because he pushed inside you, tearing a loud whine from you and a grunt from him.

‘Fuck, darling. You’re just made for me, aren’t you? Look at how you’re taking my cock, sucking it in, throbbing around it’ he murmured, immediately bottoming out and thrusting back in unrelentingly, making you tremble underneath him, your head dizzy, your face pressed against the mattress as he pounded into you, pressing into your g-spot straightaway, making you whine and keen for him. It was too much, all at once. You felt him everywhere, consuming you, making you see stars.

‘Chrollo- fuck- too much’ you sobbed, but he did not relent. He slammed against you with reckless abandon, long fingers still wrapped around your throat, his pants and groans echoing your louder cries.

‘You can take it, little slut. You’re my little slut, mh? Your pretty little cunt’s squeezing around me... could it be that you like that, darling? How filthy’ he taunted, but he sounded breathless and full of desire, and it made you feel obscene, yes, but also so so wanted. You had secretly longed for this for weeks, and now, you needed to feel him, needed to cum so badly.

But he slipped out of you and turned you on your back, slipping back into your sopping cunt and lifting your knees to your chest, pressing his body over you.

‘Fuck- Ahh- gonna cum!’ you sobbed, the new position rendering you completely helpless to his rough fucking that pressed against your g-spot and grazed your cervix, making you quiver underneath him.

‘Cum for me, darling. Show me how much you need me to fuck you’ he breathed, and you thrashed your head side to side, tears disappearing on either side of your hair, your mouth open in a silent scream as you came undone, seeing white, sounds fading completely around you, leaving you feeling only pleasure for a moment that felt like several minutes.

Chrollo grunted, cursing loudly, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss and drowning your moans as his hips stuttered, his rhythm breaking, his fingers curling on your flesh, sure to leave bruises as you felt warmth flood inside you.

He continued to push for a few seconds, head buried in the crook of your neck before he stopped moving. Your legs collapsed on the bed, and you struggled to calm your breathing, your throat dry, your arms loose around his back.

He rolled over to his back next to you, his breath starting to come out evenly even though you were still panting.

‘You were perfect, darling’ he murmured, stroking your hair, pulling you into his arms. You stared at the open window, the night skyline staring back at you with its blue lights and orangey glow from the windows of the buildings on the other side of the street.

Was this a life you could live? You did not know. The only thing you knew was that Chrollo had won.

[miwiheroes]

Hi welcome to miwiheroes <3

*australian accent* 'Ello this is Eli, president of miwiheroes club and I realised I never made an intro post, also this is a little masterpost where you can find all the analysis/ byler rambling posts without having to scrolls through my account :D

I'm 19 years old

At university for psychology

he/him

I may look like an aggressively straight man but no one knows i'm actually hyperfixated on shipping two queer guys from a sci-fi netflix show

I'm a capricorn, infp, bisexual and trans ftm

my hyperfixations right now include byler, the elder scrolls (oblivion), link click, aot, the magnus archives and dan & phil <3

i'm from england

my spotify is 'figflower' and: Here are my byler playlists!!

i never used to write analysis on film but thx byler tumblr because i've been missing out

if you were wondering, my favourite characters from stranger things are (in this order): will, mike, hopper and el <3 okay see ya

MY ANALYSES:

(i will update these as i make them. my more massive analyses are highlighted in blue)

ANALYSES I'M MOST PROUD OF:

This theoretical model of relationships + ST couples

Mike and Will and El cannot be replaced by a different gender - they are tied to a queer narrative

All my Airport Scene Analyses

Blue and Yellow theory is completely canon

Will is not getting a new love interest in S5

Season 3 ending scene full analysis

Mike and the theme of promises

OTHER:

Common Romantic Tropes used with Byler

The D&D Substitute scene is Mike questioning his sexuality

Byler + Reciprocal Looks of Love

The existence of a Love Triangle proves Byler endgame

The Painting Lie is Chekhov's Gun

'The Will Voice' isn't a thing Bylers made up

The original S3 ending script reveals inner thoughts

Mike's lack of attraction to women other than El

Purposeful blocking analysis

Purposeful music choices and music titles

Will's understanding of Mike makes the audience root for Byler

Mike has to be wrong about needing to love El

Elmike breakup vs Byler fight contrast

Phonegate canon or not canon? analysis

Mike's bedroom detailed analysis

How Mike treats El's letters vs. Will's art

Mike's conversation with El in the grocery store is queer coded

Byler parallels with other canon ships

Answering a mileven ask part 2: electric boogaloo

Answering a mileven ask part 1

Mike's self-sabotaging avoidance to incriminate himself

Silly queer coding jokes

The M&M Scene

Will's 'I'm not gonna fall in love' is a bigger proof than you think

Confirmation that Mike jumping into the quarry was about Will

Milkvan's conflict, Byler, and the concept of understanding

Byler and the insane amount of Closet Imagery

Season 1 Mike is extremely queer-coded

What if Mike's gay from the beginning of S5 like Will in S4?

You're not delusional: What I noticed when I wasn't a byler

Thinking about the monologue…

Mike is clearly thinking about Will in the Snow Ball scene

Light is symbolic for truth = byler endgame

MY FICS:

My AO3 Account: miwiheroes

vibrant days (caution to the breeze) - 15,204 words

Mike and Will's relationship has been secret for 2 months. Neither of them want to bring it up, but things build and build until it becomes more of a burden than just a little mutual understanding. Will's growing up (and getting drunk) and it's impossible for Mike to stay in the same place forever, with words always on the tip of his tongue.

aka mike and will are hiding their relationship and avoid talking about hard subjects

is my timing that flawed? - 14,621 words

In the aftermath of a harrowing escape from the Upside Down, Mike and Will grapple with physical and emotional wounds. Faced with Will's new plan and doubt of what's real and what's not, Mike must confront reality and something that he had never been able to truly control.

aka wound cleaning fic + a devastating cliffhanger + Will not knowing what's real and what's not

it's rotten work (not to me. not if it's you) - 15,919 words

Ten years after everything, and Will hasn't been able to shake a debilitating fear of anything medical-related. So when the only option and smart thing to do is get a blood test from the hospital, Mike is sure to take the time to be there for him.

aka will needs a blood test but has a phobia of needles and mike takes time off work to support him

what you really want - 46,456 words

aka a s5 speculatory mike wheeler-centric fic about his internalised homophobia and a lot of moments where he's not so clever about his feelings with will

our hearts were singing - 13,724 words (dnf)

aka karen invites mike and will over for christmas, but mike still hasn't told his whole family about his relationship, even after a year of them definitely not-so-platonically living together. maybe it's time.

you can't help but become the sun - 16,267 words

aka mike offers to be will's reference, they talk about mike's self-esteem issues, and more shenanigans with paint ensue

stay with me a while - 9,515 words

aka mike confessed to will to save the world, but will wasn't conscious enough to say it back. when he wakes the next morning, they have a lot to talk about.

life used to be so hard - 5,697 words (incomplete)

A collection of drabbles and short one-shots that tell a non-chronological story about Mike and Will's life after the UD. Stay tuned to put the pieces together and figure out a full story <3 Further explanation is in the notes of the first instalment.

the boy with the thorn in his side - 21,781 words (incomplete)

aka mike figures out his sexuality in the worst way possible, but as always, will is there to help. in more ways than one.

MY BYLER EDIT COMP ON YOUTUBE

Have fun! And if you don't ship byler ur allowed to interact but if you want to hate on it, please don't interact! I'll just delete any hate because I personally think there is no space for homophobia or negativity on my page.

You'll also find 0 byler doubt here. I don't want to worry people. So ily <3