#so like very much my role in this dynamic to not also be those things you know?

[lightningant]

Okay weird question coming in, if you were to pick which Horcrux-Tom would be the most compatible with Harry, which would it be? (In the context of an adult Harry because I am NOT shipping a minor with him.)

Because I’m thinking definitely not the Diary if you ask me, a teen with a large ego and demands authority?? Maybe, but I can’t really see it. Also curious with what’s the personalities of the diadem and cup since weren’t able to throughly go through them in canon.

This is such a weird question, but hey, I need my answers at the dead of night I guess.

I think diary/Harry as peers would be toxic in a really funny way. It's one of those dynamics that goes radically different based on a bunch of factors. Fanfic has made this clear

Harry and Tom probably wouldn't have much interest in each other in Tom's 20s. A lot of VoV is just Harry not cognizant at all he's attracted to Tom and Tom rapidly falling into complete delusion about being important and attractive and impressive to a cute boy. He needs that structure in his life, but so does Harry and without sufficient motivation they're not doing much for each other. As a horcrux, Harry is going to be distracted and Tom is going to be unsure of his future and his role and extremely hostile to having that pointed out to him.

My locket and cup are a 1-2 punch meant to mirror the diary and the ring, which to me is his 5th year and his 7th, marking before he began his descent into genuine villainy and then point where he began the rest of his life. According to Dumbledore, after hitting up Albania, Voldemort had been going nuts with the dark rituals. So the cup marks the end of his life of comfort, and the locket is him starting the rest of his life building his base in foreign countries with very few resources, likely exhausting himself and his health with his movement and the dark arts he's doing.

The diadem, then, is a transition back into power and success. He's successfully learned what he wanted to learn, obtained what he wanted to obtain, and is returning to the welcoming arms of his friends and minions to begin as a Dark Lord.

And thus Harry is a conclusion, where many of his original cohort are dead, and he's at a precipice between winning the war and succumbing to the prophecy. Either way, he is entering a completely foreign stage of his life again.

The final Voldemort is unpaired, his horcrux being nagini, the snake who's venom keeps him alive after death. It exists only to make a ghost last past his lifespan. His arc has concluded, and he's forcing it to keep going. He is knocking over the chessboard after losing.

SO. Back to Harry. Voldemort in his 30s is older, assured, comfortable and enjoying his work and his hobbies. This is the one that can evil booktok boyfriend manipulate Harry, and honestly get a little annoyed Harry finds his passions uninteresting. Not fun for me

The cup is unstable. EXTREMELY proactive and motivated and quick to rile up because he NEEDS to feel in control while in a position where he has very little to work with. Very Bellatrix-like. He'd actually have a good rapport with Harry, who also feels the pressure and wants to be doing something. I'd love a buddy cop of them instigating each other into increasingly reckless behaviour they justify with their results. This is the one that gets Harry into dark magic successfully

Diadem has spent ten years adventuring. He's comfortable again. He's untethered by societal expectations. Kind of a femme. Harry would get the ick from the casual villainy. He's pulled himself above ordinary wizards and Harry wouldn't feel inclined to pull him down when he could just leave

Scarcrux is like a dying star. He's pulled himself to the top and is now brooding there. Things have reached permanency. His old cohort are dying off. He's getting older. It's a sort of belated midlife crisis here where he's observed that everything went to shit and is disillusioned. omg if only a strapping young man who represents a field of magic I hadn't been looking at and who is physically bound into codependency with me could make me feel better about my declining future and empty life

Snakemort is on breakdown two. He's not motivated to keep his head up to get the job done, he's motivated to kick a bunch of shit down. I think the appeal of Harrymort is that Voldemort is in need of the stability all the things Harry represents provides, and this gives room for either good romantic horror or good redemption. He's in a state of desperation and anger and fear that leaves him open to be fixed by a cunty protagonist with attitude problems.

Most importantly, I don't think they could ever maintain a harem. One of them will try to take over, and the varying levels of interest will cause the whole thing to crash and burn. This is also why my horcrux shipping chart only had 3 in a stable and active dynamic.

[longagoitwastuesday]

Every day I am haunted by the fact JJK could be amazing but it will be just idk Bleach or something

[undomesticated-animal]

Hahaha fuck.

[elventhespian]

So like... it's a Thing in all fandoms where fans sort of latch onto fanon versions of characters and their dynamics with each other that are actually completely off-base, right? I don't know if this phenomenon has an official name, but I've seen it so many times and it's fascinated me every time. Especially when a character's popular fanon selves don't end up just diluted from their source material, but straight up OPPOSITE their canon portrayal.

So one of my "favorite" variations on this was how the early PotC fandom used to get Will EXTREMELY wrong, especially in comparison to Jack, and it made finding in-character fics SO. DAMN. DIFFICULT.

I've talked about this MULTIPLE times before, as have several other fans. It's a dead horse being beaten. But basically certain prevalent takes on fanon!Will have in the past leaned towards a personality that was very patient and grounded and even demure to contrast against Jack's off-beat personality and Elizabeth's fiery rebelliousness. Because Elizabeth has the drive to push back against social norms, Will became the foil who fell back to his pre-pirate version, reluctant to break rules unless she pulled him into it, even in post-CotBP timelines. Likewise, Jack was the one with the WTF decision making, while Will was more rooted in reasonable decisions.

And by their appearances, archetypes, and certain elements of their world views, you'd THINK that's how it works. When we meet Will in the governor's foyer, Will is so lovestruck and doe-eyed and subservient to the governor, I think that people thought that's just Who He Is. Especially because he often acts as Jack's straight-man foil in the comedic elements. Straight-laced. Rigid. Even boring or timid.

But if you actually pay attention to the movies, it's very much the opposite. In canon, Jack's USUALLY the level-headed one who just happens to have chaos follow him, because of the way he can wield it. He thinks in long run, tries to solve problems with words and as little fighting as possible as often as he can. Ideal situations for Jack are more like a thief--he wants to be in and out of the job as silently and slick as possible. The scenarios he's in are insane, because the way he throws other people around with those scenarios is kind of insane, but he himself remains largely cool and collected.

That's Jack.

THIS is Will:

Canon!Will starts out literally so impulsive and rash, Jack has to physically manhandle him at certain points to keep him from blowing up his plans--and then still gets taken out because he underestimates his listening skills and impatience. Will corners Jack into what is functionally a cage match to the death by sanely locking the door with his sword and very nearly wins. He is constantly at 11, constantly demanding things be done faster, more directly, and at the same time quietly scheming behind Jack's back almost from the get-go. He does flashy jumps and flips off of things because using the stairs is too slow or whatever. He shows up in DMC yelling at Jack to give him his compass at the point of the sword, and insisting he'll get Davy Jones' key by just "cutting down everyone in his path."

Even when Will mellows out significantly in AWE, there are remnants of this contrast still there. Jack's plan for leading Beckett to Shipwreck Cove seems to have been a very reasonable and underhanded effort to deliberately make sure Elizabeth is inside the Cove while Will is on Beckett's ship, in command of the Compass. Meanwhile Will's plan was to leave a breadcrumb trail of vulture-sea gulls feasting on dead soldiers' corpses.

What I'm getting at is, yeah, Jack's a charismatic "rogue" and Will's a "romantic hero" TECHNICALLY. Jack makes quippy jokes, and Will glares and scowls and WTFs back. But not only are they are both more alike than people give them credit for, they are also totally opposite their roles' traditional personalities in ways that the fandom tends to overlook.

TLDR; Jack's crazy, Will's a sweetheart. But Will is also a manic gremlin, and Jack doesn't always know what to do with him about it, so they often end up something like this:

And more fans need to play with this fact, the end.

[iscdisc]

This is a 2012 take I've had for a while now, and I'm so happy I made art about it today because I genuinely love talking about it !! 🗣️

This isn't meant to be 2012 Leo slander whatsoever, because I adore him and don't think he's terrible or anything (He's literally my favorite pick for the 2012 Turtles-) ! But I do feel that he admittedly had a lot of poor leadership moments at times (Especially in late Season 3 to Season 4- 💀), and I feel like a lot of the burden of having things accessible / ready / or even remotely feasible in order to have Leo's plans actually work out fell on Donnie. Without much appreciation or acknowledgment of that fact from Leo or anyone else for that matter.

I feel like if any of the brothers had a right to argue with Leo about leadership or how things were being run under him, it should have been Donnie, because Donnie had more than enough of a leg to stand on for that argument. I'm not trying to invalidate Raph's feelings or perspective, because I'm not saying I don't understand the angle of him being upset about Leo's blatant favoritism when it came to their Father and that being a big reason why he was so obstinate with Leo- But that aside, I don't feel like he had much of an argument to make when it came to presenting himself as a better option as far as leadership-?? I get retconning canon and that this could've just been the writers depicting Raph in a way that some of you may disagree with, but if we're basing this opinion on the Season 1 episode, "New Girl In Town", we can clearly see that he wasn't very well equipped to fill that role in the way that Leo was. And speaking of that particular episode, it was actually Donnie who stepped up when things were getting really bad with Snakeweed in the sewers- 👀

This is why I depict Raph in this scenario accepting this outcome and not being super defensive or acting like he should be included in the conversation, because I kind of have him admit that he wasn't the best at it-!

I'm also sorry, because there was so much more I wanted to draw, and instead of being able to show those things I'm just going to say them here-! For example, Splinter's involvement in the situation. I pretty much don't have him do anything about the unanimous vote, because in his eyes, this team's dynamic / structure is this team's business and he doesn't really have a place to say whether or not they change who leads the team. Sure he chose Leo in the beginning, but if they decide to come to a different decision, they're fully in the right to do that. So Leo couldn't exactly get Splinter to come to his defense,, 👍 || I also wanted to show more of Donnie and Leo both being pretty content with this new dynamic change after a while ! I somewhat got to explore that with the last image of Leo being able to fully explore his hobby / interest in astronomy, but I also wanted to show Donnie feeling very fulfilled and respected within this group of siblings and friends now that he is the team leader, with that being really satisfying for him ! || I also wanted to show Donnie having his first leader breakdown post the Kraang Invasion of Season 2, with Leo comforting him at the Farmhouse and expressing empathy having been in his position many many times before,, He just never really told his brothers about it because he didn't want them to worry and he honestly felt ashamed for breaking down so much,, <:/

Also, you know I can't resist putting 2012 Jonatello in everything I make, so of course this is going to have Jonatello moments too ! I just didn't get around to it yet- One of those things was going to be Casey becoming the second mechanic in the group in order to take off some of the work load on Donnie since now he's juggling even more than he used to-! The way Casey expresses not only concern but so much support for Donnie gives Donnie butterflies, okay- 👀💜🖤✨ Lmao

I guess the last thing I'll mention is kind of April's role and everything, since I want her to join Mikey in encouraging Leo to really explore himself as an individual now that he doesn't have to be defined by the leadership role anymore ! She's very supportive of him just being able to be himself and figure that out during this time ! But I also wanted her to better explain to Leo why she also agreed with this leadership change, since I can see him feeling a little betrayed by her. With Leo most likely assuming that she would have tried to reason with Donnie or get him to see a different side of the situation. I wanted to be very clear that she did not agree with Donnie because she felt bad for him or because of the weird crush he had on her and she didn't know how to be honest with him, etc. etc., you know what I mean? 👍✨

[jollyparaphernalia]

Welcome back to the Kingswap AU Yapping. Todays topic is Party Dynamics

(What's this?) Today we focus in on Clovis (Our swapped King now in Siffrins position). As you can see, his first introduction to the party was a bit of a...mixed affair? Guy's got some anxieties (Don't worry, they caught him later) WARNING: This chatter post i'm just gonna blanket as just being spoilers all around for 'In Stars And Time', and any content warnings that apply to the game also apply here.

First things first before getting into it...WOAH THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE RESPONSE! I wasn't expecting people to resonate so much with the idea, I was maybe expecting a small handful of notes, but seeing people interested and keysmashing in the comments/tags and theorizing makes me very happy! I also appreciate all the asks that have been sent in (Don't worry. I've seen you guys who are curious about how much of a freak Isabeau is re: the Stagemaster. I see you. I love you. I will get to those soon.) But the topic today is focused on Clovis.

Hey Jolly, what's the point of focusing on all this background stuff if this AU ends up in the loops anyways?

It's MY BRAINROT, and I SAY that the Orb Quest and background stuff is ESSENTIAL to the LORE A big part hanging over In Stars and Time is the Team. The Friends. The FAMILY. It is a huge crux of the motivations of Siffrin, and for this AU I wanna sell you on the Swapped King having a place in the party, and how the others bounce off of him and interact with him. It's fun translating someone like The King into a form that is a very different role but keeping some of the themes he comes with.

So, what's the Vibe?

Clovis is an awkward wet dog. He fills a similar niche that Siffrin does, being a semi-forgetful islander who is a complete disaster once you peel back the curtains, and is different in how he intersects with the party.

A small example would be puns. He doesn't make puns - but he ends up being funny anyways

"You're telling me a shrimp fried this rice?" He forgets words a lot similar to Siffrin, and is mortified every time - but he says things so seriously that everyone has a great time anyways.

One on One, you can rank the differences between character interactions on...Do they Like Dogs or Cats More? Siffrin is Cat, Clovis is Dog.

Lets Look At The Most Different Dynamic Compared to Siffrin: Mirabelle.

Mirabelle prefers dogs. She struggles to understand Siffrin, and Siffrin struggles to understand her, and that is the crux of a lot of problems that happen in ISAT, with Mirabelle not wanting to seem nosey with Siffrins secrets.

So, she thrives alongside Clovis. A sad, wet dog she found behind a dumpster. Who is very, very intense and gives off unnerving energy.

Mirabelle leash your fucking cryptid. He's scaring the neighbours.

Clovis is slightly more open than Siffrin (Can't hide behind a hat, after all) and he willingly searched out the Party to join them on their quest to save Vaugarde (Though he's a bit cagey on answering why outside of thats what a knight would do, but thats okay). He's willingly pledged his service, and Mirabelle appreciates having someone who is unambiguously on her side without having to be asked. It also helps that he also seems a little scared all the time, but thats okay. They can be brave together. (She just wishes that he wouldn't put himself in harms way all the time)

Mira also considers Clovis to be a bit of a good luck charm, in fact - she's learned she can take him out to do errands, and for some strange reason...She doesn't get bothered nearly as much by strangers approaching her to talk with the 'Chosen of the Change God'. Going shopping is almost pleasant when he's with her!

Clovis isn't really sure why it happens either. (It's because you scare the shit out of people with your neutral expression, dude.)

Hey, wouldn't that kinda dedication be a little weird for Mirabelle?

Maybe. I'd like to think they're on a weird similar wavelength, with Clovis being so deep in his knightly sensibilities and being so polite to her. Some....secret third thing (It's friendship. Ace for Ace solidarity). Clovis would probably catch onto the papers well before Dormont, but, well. He'd probably not wanna snoop about it, cause that's rude!

(He's some flavour of Ace? You decide. shipping ain't off the table, but that's not the focus for this AU. The focus is pain and the agonies). Much like how in the artbook insertdisc5 muses that Siffrin would travel with Odile the longest, I think Clovis would join Mirabelle for her pilgrimage.

So, what about someone who is more a Cat person?

Like, say, Odile! Great topic change. Clovis steals Siffrin's spot as 'Odile's chosen for Secret Quests' because he's good at keeping secrets, though...Odile has to pay a bit more attention to Clovis when left in a book store or library on his lonesome. Guy just hones in on Headache books like candy.

As seen above with the first meeting, Clovis also keeps a lot of Siff's Sus energy. But considering how easily Clovis tends to cave under Odile's pressure, the idea that he could be an assassin from the Stagemaster is laughable at best. (And also easily disproved, considering how active The Stagemaster is in Orbquest for this AU)

You know how in ISAT proper, Odile's Susquest is incredibly hard to get naturally, and often needing a guide to achieve for the typical player? Yeah that's reversed. Clovis can't act for SHIT and Odile can read him like a book. Clovis going through the House of Dormont and has one innocent conversation with the team and you just hear*Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!* Cats can keep secrets, but you KNOW when a dog has done something they shouldn't have. (Odile probably finds that both funny and charming?)

Now, just cause Clovis can't keep a personal secret, and is potentially easy to read...doesn't mean he isn't cunning. After all...The King in ISAT proper is able to deduce that there's something fucky going on with Siffrin, and is perfectly capable of deception.

Clovis voted 'second least likely to beat someone in chess (first being Isabeau on purpose)' but the truth of the matter is he's probably cracked at that. Probably would also love Strategy Games (And is fucking awful at poker).

He'd also prolly join Odile and Isabeau in smoking a bong and going drinking. They're both prolly delighted at this (Out straight edge little knight smoking and drinking? The scandal!)

So...What's Up With Isabeau And Clovis. Is Isabeau...interested in Clovis like he is Siffrin?

WELL. THERE'S CERTAINLY SOMETHING COMPLICATED HERE.

We can't talk about Isabeau and an AU'd KING and not get a LITTLE bit into The Gender. Even in the baseline material, you can probably write essays on the compare/contrast between The King and Isabeau regarding their masculinity and how it manifests (and in fact, i'm almost sure people have!). Seriously, The King literally chose his title. An explicitly masculine title, with him specifically highlighting the ability to make decisions and force his will onto others.

There's shades of it here, but the villainous side of it is understandably no longer present. Clovis...well, Clovis has a complex relationship to his gender? Unlike Siffrin (who is explicitly said to have never done Body Craft) The King is stated to HAVE done Bodycraft at some point (even if it was to BE BIG), so...Clovis maybe has thought about it (maybe even done it?).

I like to say he's explicitly attached to being A Guy. I'm talking full on 'yippee!' if people call him Sir Clovis. Could just be he's happy to be identified As a Knight...could be something more.

I'll leave the interpretation to you.

But wait! You said it was complex, this seems straightforward?

Well. The second half of it is that Clovis...explicitly wants to be seen as a protector. He doesn't WANT to scare people, he doesn't WANT to be seen as intimidating or weird or strange and intense. He doesn't want the Party to see him as dangerous or scary. ('But you're the good kind of scary!' is prolly what Mirabelle would say, the horror loving fanatic she is.)

Not that Clovis would ever -voice- it, but he so very desperately wants what Isabeau has. And vice versa, Isabeau I think would deeply admire Clovis for being practically fearless when it comes to taking on the burdens of the adventure. Clovis takes things in stride (even if in social contexts he's VERY NERVOUS) and yet...Clovis might be anxious...but Clovis isn't a coward. Clovis knows what he wants to be. If shit hits the fan, Clovis is marching forward, focused and unafraid to use what cunning he can muster to get through the obstacle.

So, yeah, Isabeau and Clovis are definitely two bros bonding over being dudes, 100%. Maybe not super outwardly, but it's there. The whole thing smacks of Gender. They both want what the other got.

Does that translate to a crush from Isabeau that Clovis is oblivious to? I haven't decided yet (I lean towards yes? because thinking about Loop having an aneurysm watching Isabeau be an idiot trying to confess to Clovis makes me happy)

They're friends, at a minimum.

Hey Wait a Second! How is Clovis with Touch?

He's so-so about it! He has the bonus of having his armor insulate him, so, the party will casually touch his armored bits like his gloves and chestplate, but...he reacts about as well as Siffrin is to sudden touch. He'd like it! But. Uh...Well. Not like he can remember a time when someone hugged him, you know? (He'd like a hug, but that would be weird to ask for. Something something knightly distance something something.)

But Wait! There's One More Party Member! What about Bonnie?

(Yes for the timecraft from the Stagemaster, btw, i'll get into it another time)

Eye incident? What Eye Incident? Bonnies right over there, see?

Bonnies all well and go- what? You want them to turn around? Okay...Hey! Bonnie!

Turn around for us!

See? Bonnies fine. Everything is fine. It's. Fine. Maybe we'll get into the tale there another time. (That's not a typo. Bonnie calls him Cloves :) )

get out of here you cheeky twink

Anyways, what's the Conclusion here?

Clovis wants to support the party. Clovis, just a little bit selfishly, wants to be useful to them just a little bit longer, if only to make sure Bonnie gets back to their sister (and so she can yell at him profusely and maybe beat him to death with a hammer)

If Siffrin's mantra is 'i'm fine', Clovis' is 'I can handle it.'

See? He's strong. That's what knights are for, right? Bearing the burden? He can handle it. He can handle it.

SO WHY CAN'T HE HANDLE IT?!

Once again I hope you enjoyed this little journey here, and i'd like to thank everyone again for being so curious about my brainrot (and a big thanks again to the isat discords AU channel for feeding my worms)

Anyways thank you byyyyeeeeeeeee, have Clovis enjoying a parfait

[glitter-stained]

The thing you need to remember about comics ages and timelines is that yeah it's messy there are retcons at stuff and it will never be clear and perfect. But also, DC has an interest portraying age the way they do. They have an interest in aging Barbara down so she can be Dick's pretty girlfriend with whom he raises a cute dog (and maybe a cute little family next perhaps?). They have an interest in trying to keep Tim young and draw him younger than he looks so they can milk his Robin's popularity for as long as possible. They have an interest in drawing Jason to make him look 40 when Bruce slits his throat, to make him look like a grown man fighting a teenager when fighting Mia even though they're the same age (though i mantain that mia is a little bit older), in having him call Tim kid even though they're the same age, in having him offer Tim a drink and Tim pointing out he's not legal when Jason isn't either. They have an interest in Jason looking older in Jim Aparo's art style in ADITF than he looked in precrisis or in 308. They have an interest in Steph magically looking older in War Games, where she gets tortured and brutally murdered, than the fun colourful round and much more youthful art from her Robin run. There are probably many more examples but bottom line it's not fucking innocent. DC knows how to hire artists that know how to draw children it's really not that hard. Characters who look young, characters who remind you that they are young, create more empathy; which is good when you want the public to continue to root for them, and bad when those characters challenge the status quo or that excess of empathy might create pushback after you decide to have them brutally murdered. DC can't have Batman grievously wounding and causing the death of his underage son, but if he looks as old as Batman? DC can't have Jason making a valid point about vigilantism being unsafe for Mia and relating with her with childhood sexual abuse subtext because it makes the heroes (and especially Batman) look bad, but if it looks like this is a grown ass man harassing a teenage girl, then it's clear who is the villain, it's okay, no problem. DC needs Barbara to be younger so the power dynamic between her and Dick fits their idea of a perfect little nuclear family much better and they can shove Barbara back into the role of Batgirl even though she is very much a girl rather than a woman. DC needs Steph to look older when she's tortured so they can be edgy without people being too horrified at them doing something horrifying, DC needs Jason and Steph to look older on the day they die because young looking= innocent which makes it so much harder to victim-blame. DC needs Mia to look younger than Jason so they can make it look like the good old "good victim/bad victim" dichotomy and even though that's not what the story is actually about, regardless of how much it disrespects Mia's character to do so. DC needs Jason to look ugly because it's harder to empathize with ugly people and it makes it so much clearer who is the bad guy and who is the good one, and it's a much easier dichotomy, so much more comfortable than challenging the whole mythos around which Batman is built. DC needs Barbara to be sexy in their traditional male-gaze way, because this is the audience they're trying to appeal to.

So like, I know that I'm nit-picking when I say "actually according to any and all logic Jason is younger than Tim by a couple of months and than Mia by around three years". Or when I say "they should bring back Dickbabs' old age difference" or even interact with Dickbabs as if they still have that difference and refuse to interact with Tom Taylor's version of the ship. I know comics are incoherent and the timeline is messy; but just because it's messy, just because it's always been, doesn't mean it's innocent. So I'm gonna keep nitpicking, and I'm gonna stay an annoying bitch, because I refuse to allow comics to manipulate me out of my empathy. And because I don't see everything and am very aware of how easy it is to be manipulated even when you're careful, I encourage you to add to this with things you've noticed whether it's in portrayal or in art about character age, appearance, or any other device they might use to manipulate our perception of the characters -and what narrative these resorts serve.

[pretzelwrites]

summary: how sylus deals with being the other man. 

warnings: adultery, brief nsfw tidbits, sylus is kinda miserable in this, reader is a little cruel but not intentionally, sorry this one came out really angsty??? 

wc: 1.2k

author’s note: for some reason this scenario came into my mind sooo clearly for him and raf so here's a drabble on it. raf's is coming up next. 

・❥・ your life could only be described as painfully average.  you marry the man you met in university, who also happened to be your first serious boyfriend. he’s a straightforward, simple guy who just wants a simple life with all the dressings: the picket white fence, suburban home, homemade dinners each night… you try to convince yourself you want the same, but as the years carry on, it’s hard to ignore how unnatural that role is for you. the only time you remember not feeling like you were meddling through life was when you joined the hunter’s association. you had found your calling, one that was far more exciting than the life you lived up to that point. unfortunately for you, the monotony returned when you were assigned to be a temporary officer for a small district in linkon city. that temporary position goes on for much longer than anticipated, much to your displeasure, but what else could you do? 

・❥・after spinning your wheels dealing with weak wanderers and petty crime for months, you’re finally granted a case worth your time: investigating onychinus in the N109 zone.

・❥・the investigation helps facilitate a borderline obsession over finding sylus and bringing him to justice. at first, you convince yourself that this would be your big break, something to prove that all these years spent training would amount to something. perhaps it could even open more doors for you in the association…  

・❥・ but things morph into something unrecognizable. you become drawn to his self-indulgent and exciting lifestyle which was a far cry from your current mundane life. 

・❥・ sylus toys with you about this, knowing that you’re constantly teetering on the edge of giving in to your most carnal desires, repressing yourself to be a “good little wife.” this taunting nickname rolls off his tongue all too often. sometimes you even hear it on your walks home, but it sounds mechanical and hauntingly inhuman… you think you might be losing it.

・❥・he’s very calculated with his approach, encouraging you to engage in increasingly questionable means to capture him. with the erosion of your strict morality, it’s not hard for you to drift farther from the idea of yourself as the pristine wife. 

・❥・your dynamic completely transforms during an interrogation where you suddenly cave, kissing him with the hunger you’d been suppressing all those months. his lips pull into a smug smile before pulling you onto his lap to hold your fidgeting body steady. 

・❥・he lets you set the pace when you become physical, acting as a guiding force to discover what you truly want, and then helps expand your boundaries and experiences. 

・❥・ “can we try this position?” “if you’re flexible enough, sweetie.” 

・❥・ says “if you want it, then take it.” so often you start thinking it’s his catchphrase. 

・❥・ he seems to just… know what you’re craving without you even saying it. the unspoken connection between you is unbelievable, and something you’ve never experienced before. 

・❥・sylus enjoys pushing the envelope when it comes to your husband, always being on the verge of being caught. in other words, he would literally fuck you on that man’s bed. he does NOT care. 

・❥・leaves so many whispers of himself all over your body. teeth marks, light scratches, hickeys, whatever he can plant on you before you swat him away. 

・❥・ the hookups go on for months, and they become more and more addictive each time. eventually you’re coming up with elaborate excuses to explain the weeks you’re spending in the N109 zone. 

・❥・ his home acts as a little getaway from your regular life, and when you come over he doesn’t hesitate to provide you whatever you want. at first it was because he enjoyed luring you in for corruption, but it progressed to him enjoying how your eyes lit up when you held his gifts. no matter how small or pointless they were, you always reacted like he had just given you a reason to live.  

・❥・he wants to find more ways to catch that sparkle in your eye. soon, you two are spending days outside of his home— trying out expensive restaurants and short vacations in new places. 

・❥・ the more time you spend together, the more you fall for who sylus is underneath his reputation. meanwhile, sylus is drawn to how you look at him— a divine blend of strength and innocence that keeps him hooked. 

・❥・ you think it’s simply wishful thinking on your part until you catch sylus staring at you after sex. you’re resting against his chest, eyes almost closed, and just a breath away from sleep. his crimson gaze never leaves your face as you rest peacefully, and even in your partial slumber, you can sense the conflict in his mind. 

・❥・ he intertwines your fingers together and brings your locked hands to his lips. “what have you done to me…” he whispers against your skin, his tone drenched in defeat. somehow, you won a battle you hadn’t even known you’d been fighting. 

・❥・ the investigation you were supposed to be spearheading is technically still ongoing, and he begins to believe that all of this was a long ploy to undermine his work after mephisto finds you talking to one of his former underlings. when he confronts you on this, you’re forced to confess your feelings. you watch as his icy, rigid expression morphs into tenderness while your true feelings stammer out of your lips.  

・❥・ sylus would want you to cut off your husband the second he realizes the feelings are mutual. he approaches the idea straightforwardly, but with enough playfulness it could be mistaken for a joke. “why don’t you make my place your own, then? you’ve already claimed every surface in my bathroom with your hoard of skincare products, why not add your unique touch to the rest of my home as well?”  

・❥・ he wouldn’t show it, but it absolutely does crush him when you refuse. he shrugs it off for the time being, hoping that you will come around to the idea. after all, you’ve been with your husband for years. it’s only natural that you’re not quick to leave him, even if sylus thinks it’s ridiculous. 

・❥・ this affair would go on for a shockingly long time. sylus is so isolated in his line of work, and his feelings for you are so strong, there aren’t many ways he can organically meet others and even if he does… none of them can compare to you. they don’t understand him like you do, they only see his power and money. everytime he is certain that this is the last of it— the last hookup, the last argument, the last text… you go and do something that gives him hope. 

・❥・ the growing tension between you leads to your first breakup… only to end right back up in each other’s arms not even a month later. rinse and repeat. 

・❥・ mephisto and the twins haaaaaate your ass so. damn. much. sylus’s fuse is much shorter when you’re off, and he’s sugary sweet when you’re on. the rollercoaster of emotions impacts everyone in his orbit.

・❥・ even his enemies don’t know if they’re going to get an explosively cruel sylus or a more methodical killer on any given day, which complicates their plans. a select few organizations even keep a pulse on your social media accounts to see when you’re celebrating milestones with your husband, knowing that’s when sylus will be the most unhinged.

・❥・ the N109 zone is damn near silent on the day of your wedding anniversary. mephisto has disappeared somewhere in the night, the twins make themselves extremely scarce to avoid sylus, and everyone else has decided to hunker down until a less volatile day rolls around.

・❥・ the emptiness of his environment is almost suffocating. no amount of music can fill the space enough to distract him from his isolation. sylus can’t stand feeling abandoned, but giving up on you means accepting being permanently alone. for that reason, the idea of closing the chapter on you seems worse than going through this emotional torment for another round. 

・❥・ eventually, if nothing changes, sylus will be the one to finally end it. it will be like hell to him, but cutting off all contact from you is the only way he can be himself again. he doesn’t believe he’ll ever move on, but he hopes he can someday forget how good loving you felt. 

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆"Foreigner's God" - Geto Suguru

Synopsis: For money and power, Suguru would do a lot, but for a love he didn’t want? Somehow, he finds himself bending even the strongest of ideals. Five years ago he’d saved a monkey—not actually processing the estranged entanglement that would lead him to.

— word count: 10k 💀

— A/n: so i slightly re-did my old fic - "angel of small death and codeine scene", because it felt horrendous lol. the reader might a little ...ooc? if that is a thing? also, it may seem confusing so - the reader is daughter of suguru's loyal hitsman but that man is a horrendous father so...yes. it might be unclear so reader is 22+ and suguru is around 28-29.

— Warnings: smut!!MDNI!!Afab! Reader x Suguru; use of religious themes; minor death(S); power play; gore(straight up murder); sub-dom dynamics; degradation; humiliation; impact play (fem receiving); oral (m! And f! Receiving); reader is mostly referred to as a female; complicated storyline; mentions of blood; emotionally abusive father+family; reader is a hitsman; traditional marriage roles ig

The first bell.

The second bell.

Then the third.

Married. 

~5 years ago~

The words echoed in your head, over and over and over and over—it hurt. 

His hands were soft as they held yours, he led you slow, your father’s did.

The white veil that you’d spent hours to decide upon, the one you would never care about—it swept beside you, gasps escaping the lips of many as you walked out. And there, there your eyes met his.

Poised he stood, white hair slicked back—nothing like those superficial memories his Servants had sung to you about, nothing like the glimpses you’d caught of him. This man, the one on your altar—that was Suguru Geto.

Not the Geto-Sama you’d heard of, the ones who was a deity to all- a pretty hand fared upon those who sought him blindly; not the Curse user Geto, the fugitive you recognised him to be, the one you hated—no. 

None of that.

This was Suguru Geto—your husband to be.

You hadn’t assumed your wedding to be a fairytale—in all honesty, you hadn’t assumed anything at all. But the heart of the little girl in you wept, openly so, when the worn upon thin line of a supposed smile didn’t do so much as even cast a shadow upon you.  Not to be perceived wrong, however—Suguru certainly had grinned and smirked, laughed and tickled himself senseless—perhaps so to forget this ordeal—to forget you.

Eyes moist, a tear he did let go off—superficial it was, you knew it, but a saint Suguru Geto would be deemed the next day in the whispers of his followers, especially the ones who envied to be you.

Don’t get me wrong, congratulated by everyone—he did show joy, in some meaning of the word, just not the way you hoped—or even supposed for that matter. 

Yours was never meant to be that perfect wedding, not at the core of it—you knew that from day one of the sequenced wedding but then—just something, a little dream and heart crushed grudgingly when you realized it wouldn’t be your husband who cried the moment he set his eyes on his bride—it wouldn’t be you telling those cute stories about your wedding day.

It wouldn’t be you—it was normal you’d heard, for grooms to be overwhelmed in their weddings- the thought of spending a forever with his bride, the supposed memories flooding their mind—but it wouldn’t be for you. He stood there with hands behind him, eyes awaiting your presence still.

A smile he held—empty as you joined him—eyes were very telling your father had preached, never once had you found him to be wrong.

His hands felt cold as you held them—cold like the storm his warm hands had saved your family from, colder still somehow was his presence, then and now. And you realized, your heart — to what you had thought to be a void, trained so — breaking as you realized that the marriage was a cage to him as much as you. Neither happy—he wasn’t happy within your presence, or anyone else’s.

Pathetic. But again, did it truly matter?

The wedding had begun— officiated, soon your “I do”s would slip, the wedding couldn’t be stopped now, not ever.

And in that moment your eyes flickered to your own mother—she stood regal.

Embroidery she’d fought into you, cooking and baking, sewing a skill she’d made you own too—pity she couldn’t teach you controlling your emotions—pity you despised all that was your influence.

Your eyes managed to flicker onto him—saintly, your brain

mused—your heart couldn’t help but agree. And those saintly

features held an ugly heart you told yourself, solace to a lonesome mind.

“Suguru, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect Y/N, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”

When he took a moment to answer with a blank gaze, you could feel tiny pricks being sent straight to your heart. Just a mere glance at his stolid mien was enough for you to believe that he was going to call off the wedding and run away—mayhaps you wanted that, mayhaps, you didn’t.

What else could you expect?

He clearly didn’t want this, understandable was the fact. It wouldn’t surprise you if he took a step back and announced that he couldn’t go on in making an oath to offer the rest of his life with you. That he would rather get out of this hell hole and be somewhere else than to proclaim a love that was being forced out of him.

But it was his choosing, was it not? And mayhaps, yours.

The cult leader had chosen you, and in the process, you—him.

He’d watched you a while, days, you knew of his lingering gaze—respectful then, disgusting now.

“I do,” he professed, despite the inner turmoil that plagued his head.

You sighed—soft.

“Y/n, do you promise to love, honor and cherish and protect Suguru, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?”

You remembered the day clearly—father had knocked once on your once—a new found privacy in your sheltered house was the first sign.

A wide smile—“He’s chosen you.”

Your heart sank.

He’d chosen you.

Your eyes were quick—a glance here and there and everywhere—the pause was heavy; you watched your father’s nod of encouragement—your mother’s sharp eyes—his daughters’ smile, innocent - his followers’ sip of champagne—your sister’s eyes were hazy; his best man’s tipsy.

You couldn’t say no—“I do,”

“Bride and Groom, you have heard the words of love and marriage, have exchanged your vows and made your promises, and celebrated your union with the giving and receiving of rings. It is at this time that I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant declared, “you may now kiss the bride.”

Your eyes widened behind your veil- not your first- the breath hitched as Suguru removed your veil—crystal seemed his eyes, crystal clear was his distaste. He was tall—comical in fact—you tip toed slight, he leaned in a bit—the kiss was warm, chill, foreign. His hand rested upon your cheek, a stroke—a pull, brief.

Your eyes watched as he pulled away, a new smile on his lips—an actor he would have proven to be—or, as you knew, he was.

A million thoughts clouded you and him—known to only the two of you—marriage worked quick in that sense you supposed, your mother  and sister were perhaps right. But when all was said and done—the marriage was officiated.

And your eyes met then—a thought passed between you and your husband—stuck together—sincerely, fuck you.

The ride back ‘home’ was tedious, it burnt, it burnt all too much.

“Geto-Sama will prove to be amazing,” the driver spoke alone,  yet, all too soon—as he had been for the past anxious hours—time moved slow, slower than the gaze you didn’t dare hold against him.

A soft smile he held, serene as if -  “I’m sure he will be,”you mumbled back,  just as fake a smile you held too—husband and wife—equal footing, equal qualms at the truth you didn’t accept and lies you foretold.

‘Geto-sama’ this and a ‘Geto-sama’ that— the entire reception had been torturous, you hated it—hated the man they chose not to acknowledge—hated the murderer, hated him, your husband.

All to your liking though, the car finally came to a stop, at your residence—your new home.

-

“You may sleep here,” soft a voice, too cold a tone – however, compared to the gaze he held—it felt welcoming.

You nodded just as quietly, a good wife would never fight, they’d taught you—more important than ever for your life now depended upon so.

“Geto-Sama,” you hated the way it rolled off your tongue so smooth—meant to be, “where will you sleep?” Innocent enough a question and yet the scoff he passed under his breath was all well noticed by you.

“Not to worry you darling,” he smiled softly still, “I wouldn’t ever imagine sleeping with you,” and wrapped in his words lay the tone of condescension—hidden all so beautifully, a small round of hide-and-seek in itself. 

Lips pursed, you stared at him—“you can… drop the act, we’re alone,” the tone itself surprised you—the confidence all the more so, as you bore deep into his eyes, unwavering.

A brow cocked, he passed a smirk well of his own, “So the monkey is capable of thinking, hm? Where was this tongue all this while?”

“To call the future bearer of your children a monkey, your own wife - you should remember you are also a part of me now,” it was desperate really, bringing in the prospect of a future you never wanted for the sake of some respect.

A deep rumble emerged within his chest—chaos, “You think you’ll have such rights? What are you if not worth less than your father’s money?” Your face burnt at his words—hot, embarrassed, it was true.

“A reminder perhaps,” you spoke through clenched teeth—“you were the man who came begging to my father for-”

“-for money, not a whore to be passed around,” his words lay sharp, all so much so that the hilt of his words was enough to penetrate too mayhaps.

“Could have called yourself a celibate, Geto-Sama,”

his words sharp- yours blunt, impact lay the same with both—regret caused to the other.

“Are you so desperate that you are willing to fight to sleep with a strange man, all so alien to you?” There it lay, that constant lazy smile—the one he never shied to portray to his desperate followers—now, to you.

“A husband,” gritted teeth, you bared, “you are a husband now, my husband, accept the fate,” sharp inhale—sharper exhale, you simply despised him.

Annoyance hung loose in the air, an open wound to you both.

“The only fate,” he paused—ears ringing unto the sound of footsteps—his daughters’, “is the one where you’re no more but a mere shadow in my life, monkey,” disgust all so prevalent on a pretty face as his—pity, really.

“So be it,” you nodded, a lick of your lips and a deal on the tongue, “no more a legal wife am i to you,” 

“Be glad you could achieve that at all,” and just as quickly the somber mood had shifted to annoyance, it was back too—as the door clasped open, the twins rushing in to meet their new found mother.

Mother—oh just how hilarious the fate’s jokes lay.

A mother—a wife—a woman for his needs.

-

A week. 

A week spent in solitude, the white ceiling, a new friendship you’d found, the dark wood flooring your vice as you suffered.

Day in and day out—seconds ticked by, slowly churning out the hours and eyes that lay moist

forever remained so.

You despised it all. 

His expanse and his family, his charm and his style, his maids and his followers — his daughters, ah. 

Something, perhaps you didn’t hate, that belonged to Geto, did exist.

Innocent smiles, the kind you’d never worn—hefty laughter he provided them with, his pride and his joy—now yours too, mutual a partnership the marriage was.

“Y/n,” they’d murmured excitedly, Nanako had— Mimiko's shy glances and little smiles, just as endearing. 

A mother you’d become, how complicated. 

But fickle was your happiness, just there and often never at all.

Your heart raced, ears perked up at the voice of approaching footsteps—the daughter of Suguru Geto’s best hitman, a little too many tricks lay up your sleeves themselves. 

Quick, soft, padded—your servants.

Loud, racy and sudden? His daughters.

Soundless? Suguru.

Thoughts proven none but correct, Suguru did stand bearer of your observation—a frown as always on the beautiful face.

And you wondered just how prettier it could be, if only he were gagged and stuffed aside. 

“Get up, you have to move” words shuffled fast—frenzied, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

“Why?” Defiance, slight defiance in the form of annoyance presented to him you displayed, little impact but just enough—especially when he would let out a ragged sigh, holding himself back.

“Don't question me, now is not the time.” 

Your heart soared giddily at that too—“What? Your blind followers realized your reality?” 

Your words were sarcastic, the situation? Not so much.

A sharp gaze, piercing, bore into you.

Dead, at a finger’s flick if he wanted—but then again, he didn’t, he couldn’t.

So he did the next best thing that he’d realized in a week’s worth of time- the little smirk was wiped off quick as he kneeled close to you, so close.

“It is for your protection,” a whisper, all too serious, curious, you looked down at him - he was playing his cards right, giving you leverage.

You breathed in a sharp intake, protection? Whatever for?

Suguru Geto - a special grade, you stood as one of the finest hitmen too - what protection? 

And then in the flicker of a gaze you’d think and consider it all, his lies, his treachery - moving you was new, different. It meant shift of powers - it  meant he held the course of action - you simply couldn’t digest that, right?

“Get up,” he repeated.

“No.”

Your head turned to the right sharp, a swift slap he’d landed on your cheek—it didn’t hurt,

you’d faced worse after all—but oh how it hurt you.

Apathetic, he stared.

Blankly, you stared back.

A moment of silence, heavy.

“Are you really so imbecilic?”

Silence again—you wanted to rip his hair out—“Get up,”

“Why?”

His voice, almost panicked now, it was uncanny. 

You had seen, known Suguru Geto, even if from the periphery of your father’s existence, for at least a decade now. 

All smiles and polite words he’d been, all calculated and stiff - never….this.

A clench of his jaw and a brush of fingers through the hair—“Monkeys like you aren’t safe here, you do not understand the gravity of this.”

And somehow, it warmed your heart. 

“I can fight-”

“-yes and I am well aware of that, as well the skill passed down your lineage but now is the not the time to be difficult,”

Dumbly, you looked—“what is it? Some…” your mouth ran dry, “some attack?” 

An unamused chuckle he was quick to let go—“something of the sort,” he paused, face reigning back to all his seriousness—“the marriage was sure to develop tension, me and you…” a frown etched on his face, the way his face shifted through emotions at the reminder of his new life, “i am surprised it took an entire week for the disturbance,”

You sat there still, disturbance?

Many thoughts ran wild, his and yours.

You wanted to ask a many hundred questions - who, why, was it all so revolting to have an uprise against you?

“Don’t worry then-” he scoffed, still in front of you, on his knees, “wouldn’t want my pretty little wife to suffer,” his words felt fake, maybe they were.

You swallowed hard—“where to?”

“My chambers,” 

Your heart sunk and yet you felt a rush of serotonin.

~3 years ago~

“Y/n,” Nanako’s voice dragged, “c’mon we’ll be late!” The constant sound of typing annoyed you—squinting eyes stared at her from a distance.

“Remind me why such enthusiasm again?”

“Papa’s dealing with non-sorcerers today,”

Again-as he had been, always.

“Mama,” the word rang in your mind—Mimiko’s voice was soft in contrast — Mama, a certain ring to it, familiarized and yet so antagonized in your head.

You hummed in response simply—“Papa requests you to be there tonight…” her words trailed away, the convocation all too loud, the impact all so evident.

“Right…” you let your words hang open as well—he wanted you present, in day and light, flesh and sight—his wife to be shown off.

Every once a while, you were his proven lucky charm after all, his priestess.

-

Crowded, nauseating, full of idiots. 

You sat right beside your husband, high and aloft - dressed in a kimono, perhaps more dramatic than his clothes in such ceremonies - after all, you were the head-priestess.

You remembered the day well, when he’d announced you so.

A month within the marriage, the night after a group of rogues had attacked your car. 

He wasn't afraid - but infuriated, yes.

For you? You’d wondered, when he slept that night beside you - anger blanketed him, his form, and then you’d scoffed to yourself.

Of course, not.

It was all for the fact that they dared to attack what was his - dared to question him, his decisions.

A dagger rested at your side now, gift from no other than your Geto-Sama, two years ago—a

wedding gift.

You hated the fact that it was the best you could’ve managed to find.

Slow, the proceedings were, lazy his smirks as the likes of you begged. 

As the monkeys begged to him. 

“Headaches, nauseating? Hmm,” he smiled, pensive, reflective—“sounds to me like you’re troubled,” and just so, it amused you—to how dumb non-sorcerers truly were. 

Fickle-minded.

“Geto-Sama,” eyes squinted at the tone of the woman, a whimper—a common whore—begging for his touch in broad sunlight, for your husband’s touch.

Sure, you hated him—but oh how you hated the fact that he touched so many other women whilst being married to you.

And somehow, you always became the other woman.

“Yes darling?” He called back coolly, your blood boiled, he’d never called you that.

Only insults.

“I think…think you need to…” her words trailed away, a satisfied murmur erupting through the crowd—they remembered, remembered it well.

Engraved in the memory of most what you’d only caught the gist if, even as a rumour.

Suguru had fucked her—in front of them all. 

As treatment, as help.

In the name of all that was holy, all that was religious—he’d sworn it would help her—it made her addicted. One  drug to another, Suguru did nothing, he would do nothing today 

either perhaps.

Was this why he called you? 

To humiliate you such?

“Ah ah ah,” click on of his tongue, sharp—“hold yourself - is your goddess not present here for you to spout such non-sense?,”

Your heart burned. 

Goddess, their goddess—you were their goddess—his goddess.

Jaw clenched, you stared from the side, distaste evident upon you and her—adorable, he deemed it.

“She’s nothing-”

-silence, as quick as she’d begun to stare at you in disgust, just as quickly she retreated. 

Beyond livid he seemed, an amazing actor surely, never one to hear words against his precious wife, only he could dole it out - in his chambers.

An actor you hated before the marriage, an actor you continued to hate now.

A chuckle interrupted his thoughts and yours—“Geto…,” the investor—the one Suguru’d been trying to impress.

So was the reason you’d been called, ever since you’d been named his head-priestess, the devotee’s goddess, you served one faction. To bring in those who Suguru couldn’t buy with money.

A continuity of a deep rumble lay bared throughout the assembly — relevance all so long as Geto would decide.

“You act like she matters at all,” your stomachs dropped, he was right, was he not? 

But how dare he spoke of you - your blood boiled as your eyes fixated upon him.

“What is she? A hunter?” Another prolonged chuckle—electing those from beside you as well, your ears hurt from how hot they were. 

Hunter? You had been your father’s greatest possession, with skills that surpassed his own - you had trained all your life as a hitsman, and now brought down to what?

A laughing stock in your husband’s cult, in his sphere of lies.

“Just a trophy wife for you, isn’t she?” Unwantedly, even in moments such—of your disrespect, your eyes gazed onto him -at suguru, you hated yourself for these moments.

You hated the helplessness - you hated the need for him to take a stand for you.

And yet, Something about the thin smile he held every time you were disrespected reassured you, it wasn’t much—not an ounce of anger reflected upon his face, if he felt any, that is. 

You could feel the eyes of all, not the first time you’d been presented to the assembly, the first time the ruse you played was out.

“She’s my wife,” his voice was calm, “trophy or no is none of your business—she’s priced if anything—far more than you could ever afford, so think with that thick head of yours, at least once if you can manage, before you dare to look at her.”

Definite—his words were fast, surprising all the more.

The laughter halted, silence was all so deafening, “You’re defending that slut before me Geto?” Shaky, the man’s voice was held, anger evident—your grip tightened on your dagger.

Suguru’s smile only ever grew right beside you, “Do you want the honors darling?” You froze on the spot.

You carried that dagger everyday, you hadn’t killed a soul since the marriage three years ago, he’d demanded you stop this practice.

Face whipped to face him, he could see the way your face shone, your eyes hesitant—

“Talk to me you fucker! That bloody bitch and your cult won’t manage without me,” His words rang through the hall as he did so—your feet worked upon its own, you stood on your feet, crisp steps taken towards him.

“Just give me those whores beside you then, this one seems a bit used” he grinned further, directing his gaze onto Nanako and Mimiko and then back at you as you walked to him. 

A nodding smile from your husband being all that you need—swift you came, swift the man fell, mere seconds.

Bloods oozed, some rested upon your cheek just as much, three stab wounds—a drowning business deal of Geto—a sailing heart of yours and his smile.

The body twitched in dismay, adrenaline coursed through you—three years since you’d last killed something living, you couldn’t feel it. 

“Dismissed,” Suguru spoke aloud, basking in the shock of his followers and alike—however, yours too.

A hitman you were, sure, but so far you’d only done what your father directed.

Not Suguru, not up till now.

A sinner—his sinner.

Your body shook, the dagger fell quick, the moment the Hall was empty, just you and Suguru inside. 

“What did you have them prepare for lunch today?” Domestic as if, normal, if he’d name it—acting as if a murder did not just happen—the man’s body was still warm.

You’d done this plenty of times and yet this felt new, this felt like a shift.

And then, you were afraid he’d make this your purpose.

You offered none but a soft silence—“y/n?”

You hated him. 

You hated everything.

You hated how he pretended to be confused by your dilemma.

“Can you stop?” A hiss of a voice—“you just- I- stop!” 

Small an outburst, tears trickled the verge of falling apart.

“It’s fine,” he mused, “you can let go,”

“shut up,” you whispered fast- “don’t talk to me like that- like- like you’re superior. You just usedme- fuck- I- your cult…”

A step all too close he took, “come here,” softly he spoke—uncharacteristic, why now? 

After three years of an empty marriage—had he found your use? A skill he’d thrown away when undesired and now back to square 1?  

Not the first time you’d cried in front of him, many a confrontations had come and gone—many a times you’d thrown empty insults at him—many times he’d threatened you, all in vain.

So why now?

Empathetic all over a night? Couldn’t be.

Empathetic over your transition? Shouldn’t be.

Your heart paced, mind hurdled- hands held onto his form tightly as he did yours, body convulsing in his embrace, your kill lay astray, forgotten. 

“You’re fine,” he murmured against your head—all so close, first time.

 And a thought you couldn’t help but withdraw—is this how those women felt? When he held them so close to where you’d never been? 

“You did as you should’ve, a great priest - hitsman,”

Sheer shambles your heart lay in—you wanted to hate him, perhaps you did—most probably, not. 

“Why?” You whispered, pressed deep into his chest—an almost soothing hand upon your back rubbed, all so confused—both him and you.

“Figured you’d like it, but you seem confused now” he smiled, “you’re not a pawn y/n,” a fumbling kiss pressed on your forehead, the spot was now sacred.

This, you reminded yourself, is how he manipulated his followers.

You let it happen just as easily.

“I realise you feel used,” he muttered, “don’t. You have served me, my purpose.”

“Why all this? Why now?” you spoke against his form - “how long had you planned that man’s death?”

He looked down at you now, his eyes in yours, “ever since the first meeting he saw you in and asked of you,” you tried your best to figure how much of a lie lay in that statement, you weren’t sure.

An urge to pull away, an urge to ingrain yourself in him.

An empty marriage—all too loud your desires.

“You’re their goddess aren’t you? They needed all but a reminder,” He didn’t sound sweet anymore, it was all real—you knew so. 

-

Two months since your outburst, two months since he’d held you for the first time—two weeks, you’d suffered all so much.

Mentally, emotionally—physically. 

It was absurd, you’d spent three years still, yearning just some touch—but now more so than ever, you would perhaps beg for him. 

A shared bed you lay in, the heat in your heart was scorching—nothing close however to the desire between your legs. 

You craved him.

“You’ll accompany me tomorrow?” fingers clasped right around the book he was reading, he didn’t do so much as glance at you—yet, it was somehow endearing.

Gradual was the display from being ordered by his servants to show up when he pleases you to, to his daughters requesting you—to him, personally asking for it, it was bitter-sweet.

There were other small changes, changes he hadn’t bothered with for the first 2 years of your marriage - slided in now so easily - it hurt.

It was so easy for him to accept you, he chose not to.

But now that he did, it felt - you felt, just something.

You knew you were grasping on broken ends—but just something to the fallen was miraculous enough. 

You poised to think, “WAR AND PEACE”- Leo Tolstoy, hefty the handler, heftier its state, creased in the middle—whitening, pages browned years ago and a certain scent you couldn’t place.

Golden were the words still, it shone.

A simple “well?” From him broke your trance, a nod you passed.

Second time in the past fortnight, perplexed you lay by, watching moments tick by, unsure.

“Should I carry the dagger?” Same question as you’d asked last week—same reply awaited you, the same cunning smile, “Just your presence is enough,”

“23, 594 of you, you pay handsome sums all for this movement - for those in need…last week we were obliged with 3 million yen for our services and then 7 million, all by our business partners,” Suguru spoke in the same sweet tone of his—a mistake his words held. 

A tilt to the right, to correct him or no—you sucked in any air, perhaps your last.

“Not a simple feat it-”

“-25, 394 are present, and we didn’t get 10 million…it was 8- they didn’t pay all of it…” your voice was low, had the crowd been that of a murmuring one, it would have gone unheard—not from him perhaps, but in general. 

Not a glance spared, just a single smirk, “Ah, of course.” A lick of his lips and a look downturned, “I apologise—how sweet of my wife to remind me and correct me,”

My wife - not priestess suddenly, no.

A reminder, not to anyone else but you.

Amusing how you still shivered at the thought of it.

The rest of his words were a blur, his tone was hollow right after the apology—the same as you’d heard when he was upset— not mad. 

Because you remembered well how Suguru was when he was mad - you’d seen it once and the consequences of that, you repented stil.

-

“Leave,” the words seemed final, a tear rolled down your eyes.

“Geto-Sama,” your father panted, pathetic—simply so, no denial  to it. 

“Please,” three days you’d been begging, three days that Geto Suguru had stripped you all of any and every sense of dignity, of some thought of self preservation.

A scoff you heard, heart shattering—as eyes gazed onto the sight of your crawling father- a hitched breath, Suguru’s eyes lay stuck on you. 

“The debt,” Suguru mused quietly, “you want it forgiven?”

Your father nodded at his feet—broken sobs your mother flushed, sister’s nimble fingers upon yours—you hated Geto Suguru.

Perhaps that was exactly why you found yourself such.

Hating his woes, his breaths and his ideology—perhaps because you say it all lay a lie - the man was not forgiving, no, quite the opposite. 

Perhaps you hated him for the humiliation he granted that day, 6 years ago. 

“You’re nothing but a monkey, you know that,” Suguru mused simply, “But you are one of my best,” a hum he passed to second himself. 

Which was why this treatment seemed worse than it would have. Your father had served him so long, always there, everyday - by his side - the dirty work all carried out.

So what if a small debt remained unpaid? It could be forgotten - but no, Suguru Geto, as you stared at him while your father was stripped of his respect in that assembly hall, was no less a beast and beasts barely showed mercy.

Eyes, purple - sharp - as they bore into yours—“What’s your name?”

Quick, you almost didn’t catch his words, “y/n,” your father weakly muttered before letting out a pained cry—result of none but a kick from Suguru.

“I was talking to her,” a lazy smirk he adorned, “you’ve trained?” He inquired, a nod you passed.

“Skilled?” And that you were, having served so many over the years—skilled you simply were. 

“You can have her,” your father’s words lay rushed—heart seizing up deep. 

He couldn’t- wouldn’t- your mother wouldn’t.

You eyes suddenly dropped to his form - somehow now, it didn’t feel so bad that he lay there.

“Virgin?” 

“We can offer a fine dowry lord, for that issue,” groans, his—gasps, yours—“You'll be doing us a favour, in fact two.”

The  man’s face flits curiously between the two of you. You wonder if he can see the embarrassed tears threatening the corners of your eyes, the set of your lips, the way your fingers are clenching and shaking.

Your heart raced, face flushed—your parents eyes’, your sister’s, all trained upon you.

What a pity—a shake of your head, Suguru’s smirk widened as he knelt onto your level.

“Whoever would marry a used whore hm?” It was the exact smooth voice that you hated—the exact low grumble you feared.

“Fuck off,” the words were quick to slip out—perhaps, not appropriate but you regretted not a single moment.

Not your mother’s gasps or your father’s tremble or Suguru and his furrowed brows. 

“You’re talking to a god,” he whispered—

“I won’t worship a fraud.”

 Your reply was defiant—the situation was bared.

A made up god among men and a woman who would never worship him—and hence came about the dilemma when the god simply found his religion in the woman.

“Interesting,” he’d hummed then, the same smile that he wore then in the assembly, three years after your marriage.

A padded thumb reached into your cheek—wiping your tears away roughly—“I think you’ll be just as useful as your father,” he grinned, and something told you he’d use you in ways more than just a hitsman.

“You’ll be a better pet, right?”

Before you could gasp, before you could cry—before any sense of grief had caught you, fate had tied its strings with a man you deemed a monster—and the monster to his angel. 

-

The assembly took a good while to finish, 2 hours you sat, anticipating everything. 

It clicked very quickly that  you’d upset him by speaking over - by trying to correct him - something he never appreciated.

Something told you Suguru wouldn’t go tough on you—usually, he’d have someone humiliated to no extent but…you were his better half—not you, right? 

“Dismissed,” he muttered as always, you couldn’t help the squirming anymore.

The last two hours you’d suffered, the wetness in you edging onto itself at the worst time possible—every time he’d make eye contact, every time he’d glare. 

“Not you,” your heart dropped, you stood as a deer in  headlight then — just about to step out of the room as everyone else had.

“Come here,”

You swallowed hard—“I- I am sorry my lord I didn’t-”

“I didn’t ask you to talk monkey,” a slight pang to the heart—two months of overthinking was all down the drain, it didn’t mean anything perhaps.

Slowly, you trudged over, near to his feet—as close as he’d let you for the last time.

Cold eyes met you, blank a face and hair brushed open—“kneel,” he simply commanded, most days you’d have fought back- earned yourself a reprimand but not that day. 

What you had was enough already. 

From your position, you stared up at him—lips parted as small breaths you let out.

A moment of silence while you watched him take off the yukata robes, slender a form inside—the one you’d watched simply all too many times.

“You think you’re smart hm?” Your body shook, blame put on the coldness, you let yourself shiver—passing him a shake of the head.

“Geto-Sama I-”

“-is it that difficult an instruction?” Sharp a voice, it pierced through you, “don’t talk unless I fucking tell you to.” 

A frenzied nod, any denial to be passed onto him leaving your body as you gazed upon him, ethereal—and maybe, just maybe, the fraud of a god you hated was not all so bad to adore.

 “Thought you looked cute correcting me, hm?” Ever so serene a voice, one couldn’t almost differentiate whether he truly was upset or not. 

Another shake of your head, another tug at his lips.

“No?” Squinted eyes stared at you, “then attention? You wanted attention?” Your ears felt hot, maybe you did. 

“I wouldn’t be shocked honestly,” he paused, squatting down to your level, “your father did offer me a whore,” bottom lip clasped between your teeth, you dared not to look up at him—afraid simply of the hot tears spilling. 

“What is it, hm?” A large hand raised to flick the hair of your forehead—“Jealous, are we?” 

Clenched jaw, you stared at the ground—audacious he was to even question it—“but that shouldn’t be it right? A legal marriage is what you promised eh?” 

Too smug his voice lay, you hated him. 

He used all your cards against you so easily.

His hand rested at your cheek, hot to the touch—searing cold to the testament—“what was it then? An attention seeker? Or a whore?”

A ragged breath you let out—“You think it’s hilarious?”  Your eyes stared down into his, “to make a fool out of me?”

The hurt in your voice was no less than prevalent, it echoed still.

“I - would never…” you couldn’t understand where or how this sheepish nature struck you, you clenched your jaw at the mere realisation, “but talking of making fools…You fuck women left and right like it’s nobody’s business-”

“-oh it is about that hm?” A short chuckle he passed, euphoric to the ear, “you are a jealous bitch after all,”

“Cut it out Suguru,” 

His brows raised too, and internally—yours, at the courage of calling him such, “You don’t respect me but at least respect the marriage,”

“With a monkey?” 

It angered you as to how deep just a couple of his words could cut—‘a monkey’ you’d never be his equal.

“Yes, with a monkey—with your wife—with the woman your daughters seek a mother in,” quick you spoke—desperate to get it all out—“The woman you’ve simply used for business and now, a murder,”

Another short laugh.

“And now it’s about that is it?” 

Your blood boiled—to see him treating it all so insignificantly, “you made me-”

“-made you kill him? You killed a monkey darling, an animal of incoherent thinking. You should be glad. If anything I did you favors by granting you the opportunity to regain your skills, which are impeccable if I may - as is, it really isn’t the first time is it? You’ve killed before - this time, just an animal,”

A tug here, a tug there— your heart was torn at his words. 

“Further, you liked it—you like everything I do,”

A desperate ‘no’ spilled off your lips—meaningless.

Maybe you did like it—maybe you did like the way he took you away from that monster of a father, maybe you did like the way he isolated you, gave you all to hone your skills and what not, maybe you did like the little shows of affection because you were starved.

Maybe you were simply naive.

A series of clicking sounds of his tongue entered your ears—“you create ruckus over such thing,  hm, darling?” He got up again, “calls for a punishment doesn’t it?”

A final plea you passed—broken.

“Suguru please,” shaky, “I just- you can’t fuck women like that, the servants spread rumours and- and- its all so-”

“Strip and get on all fours,” lower an octave, his voice was serious, you bit your lips and complied, whatever else was there to do.

No other choice- you wanted it maybe.

His touch, even if punishing, he would embrace right after, right?

Slow, your fingers moved to take off all that was left of your decency—not the first time that you’d stripped for a man, hell, even geto had in these two and a half years of marriage seen you naked– but the first time you felt the lingering gaze. 

All down to the matching set of lingerie that he’d gifted you—every once in a while as he did, a sought compensation for his actions mayhaps, it did make you daydream anyways.

“Faster lest you wish to lengthen your punishment?” A quick shake of your head, your face felt hot, fingers twisted into the waistband of your panties —silk and lacy, almost As if innocent—as you slowly pulled them your lower half, feet tugging them off.

Your bra was forced away the same, shame enveloped you—not strong enough for all of you stood exposed, a cry of mercy to the god all in vain—for all too apparent,since  your supposed god was a fraud. 

A step taken slow towards Suguru, you were interrupted with a cough—“You’re a what, y/n?” 

Mind blank, you stared dumbly—and exasperated sigh he let out until you finally responded, “A monkey,” 

A nod of encouragement, he smirked, “and monkeys don’t walk right?”

Heights of your shame were peaking with every second passed, no other option to substitute, you nodded back—down on all fours as you crawled over to him.

The carpet was coarse underneath your knees, it hurt—not more so than your mind.

“Already so pliant sweetheart,” too giddy a voice, you wanted to punch him—but perhaps this was far better than what that would entail. 

You reached over to him shortly, “only had you been all so quiet from the very beginning…but oh how does it matter now,” a grin sounded to your ears—you wanted to cry. 

“All so naked,” he was walking about you now—all so exposed you stood, “so vulnerable—is this what you wanted?”

Your ears burned.

“Jealous of the women I fuck in front of my followers, right? Would you want to be fucked the same? I could summon them now—” another short chuckle, “their god with their goddess.”

You swallowed hard, lips licked as you awaited—unsure of what he could do.

“Tell me, does the thought make you wet?” 

“No,” lies—you knew it, and you hated yourself at that. 

A hum sincere, was all he passed—“alright then. Since you do love running your mouth all so much, your tongue and hands—”

Your ears ringed as the sight of the crowd that was typically present here flashed in your head—“25 strokes.”

Eyes wide you stared at the ground.

A silence awaited his words and he sighed loudly.

“Say yes or does my whore want more?” 

Another silence—soon he was right ahead of you—a sharp slap soon adding to the sting on your face.

Tears took no time, resting at the verge—you stared up at him, broken a voice meeting him, this was humiliating.

“I'm sorry,” you muttered softly—trembling at the look of it—not even sure what the apology was for. 

“Please i’ve never…” and somewhere along your blurred sight, his eyes softened all too little—“15, it's merely a spanking.” He decided silently. 

You nodded, knowing the bargain had gone deep— lowering your head, unsure of the entirety. 

“Spread your legs, arch your back” he murmured, you winced slightly as you did so—the texture of the carpet felt rough—your predicament all the more.

You felt his hands then, all over your back, calloused, you realised - smooth, they were relaxing you.

You felt him knead the flesh of your ass, then your thighs, treading as far as the flesh of your inner thighs - you wanted to whine at the teasing. 

“Count and thank me after each,” and all before you could agree— smack! The first smack struck hard.

Your eyes widened and a sharp inhale—“One—thank you Geto-Sama,” he nodded in confinement, satisfied Mayhaps, to your words. 

His hand rested along the  roundness of your ass—squeezing it, feeling it around—another smack alternated on the other cheek—“Two! Thank you Geto-Sama,”

Another squeeze—another exhale, you could feel your wetness spread - shameful.

The third strike was on the same spot as before—a pink tint added already to your ass, he adored the way you felt in his hand—“Three— thank you Geto-sa-! Ah!” You bit hard onto your lip as in the midst of your count he landed another strike at the same spot and another.

“F-four and five! Thank you Geto-Sama,” a ‘good girl’ he murmured right after, and even such—humiliated to all accords, his praise did none but cause you to feel butterflies right there.

And just there you also hated how his slaps could provide you the pleasure you hadn’t been able to. 

The same cycle went on, remaining 9 spanks hit hard as before— a grab and squeeze offered in the midst of each, a smooth hand too - as he touched you everywhere - everywhere except where you wanted him most. 

“So fucking pretty,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss one of your reddened cheeks—warm to his lips as his other hand smacked onto the other cheek. 

“Spread your legs further,” and you did, afraid to upset him anymore. 

And all to your surprise, suddenly you felt a finger probe your pussy lips—beyond ashamed you could help the weak whimper and desperate cry from escaping.

“Tch tch tch,” another sharp smack on your ass, “So wet? From a spanking?” 

Another whimper as your head only ever lowered in response—“or was it thought of getting off in public, huh?” You could feel his tough hands tease you, he wouldn’t enter, no—just tease your slit for the hell of it. 

“So pathetically turned on f’me,” he groaned—face up right against your gaping hole, inhaling sharply and taking in your scent.

“N-no,” you protested, halted only by another mean slap on your ass—“Don’t lie to the man you worship,” another nod, he’d already broken you. 

The pretend disappointment was sheerly evident in his voice—his expressions, “Well I cannot really move further until you’re punished thoroughly darling,” his words sounded almost calming, even when you knew they were all so not.

The tip of his fingers were slow, slowly gliding across your glistening pussy—your inner thigh—squelch! 

Eyes wide, a gasp erupted from your mouth as his large palm landed flat against your folds.

“I don’t think it’s your fault however, it’s her issue isn’t it?” Words so sweet, you only ever could think of succumbing to him—finally passing a weak nod.

“Ah ha,” he smiled to himself—impressed perhaps—“That’s a smart girl, now how many do you think are appropriate for her hm?” As he spoke, his fingers wouldn’t be called shy in the way they inspected you—gathering your slick from your hole, never entering enough to please, and leading it up to your asshole—dirty.

A sense of dread coursed through you, involuntarily you tried to turn around to beg him not to—another sharp slap, a sob from you.

“5?” Your voice was soft—and somehow, even in his moments of pure power Suguru couldn’t help but want to be kind to you.

And this time, he hated it. 

“5 it is,” he murmured, pressing his fingers upright to your pussy lips—“Count, no need to thank this time,”

Slowly his hands already your thighs further apart—shame no more a blanket, you could only moan at the shy touches to your core.

His hands stroked your inner thighs slowly—easing you out, you knew the trick of course, and “sh-it,” you spoke as his hand Landed on your pussy.

“One,” you called out meekly, and unlike the slaps he used to redden your ass, these weren’t all so pleasurable. 

Without a word he landed another—your body lurched forward just the slightest—“Two!” Your voice trembled at his touch, especially in the way he dragged his fingers all so close to your clit and then landed the third spank.

“You’re taking it so good sweetheart,” a mess, a sincere mess is all you were—breaking apart at his touch and words- all so unsure of how you felt. 

The last two Spanks were a blur, broken sobs eliciting your throat at them too as finally Suguru caressed your hips— held it soft, smothered it with slight kisses—as if he cared. 

He graciously didn’t mention the way his fingers were so covered in slick, didn’t mention how he wasted not a single second before licking each one clean - not wanting to let go a single drop. He also didn’t mention the way you gasped as he pressed his lips to your pussy - your folds, kissing them so softly you shuddered.

“Think you deserve a reward now, monkey?” A whine escaped you at the reference to the animal he deemed everyone else as—and yet another “Yes please,”

You knew better than to hope he’d have pleased you but all how it went, you could help the slight disappointment in you when he sat across you—spreading his legs.

An amused chuckle he let out at your expressions—“You really didn’t think I’d touch a used up pussy as yours eh?” 

He would—oh how he desperately wanted to—your eyes remained down cast in your obliviousness.

“C’mere be a good slut and get me off,” hesitant was the way you crawled over to him nestling yourself  between his legs—hesitant, yes but eager all the more.

And just the same his other followers felt engulfed by the need to please him.

Fingers fumbled with his belt for a second before a raised brow from him stopped you—“did I tell you to take it off?”

Your breath hitched- confused you gazed up to meet an annoyed expression, “Do only as much as you’re told to, don’t true that pretty mind of yours.” 

All the encouragement you needed as you slowly raised your face up to his crotch—“Go on,” he murmured, placing his hand at the back of your head—and just so you found your face pressed hard against his crotch, taking in the musky smell— your eyes watered with the pressure he held you with, your pussy grew wetter with the avoidance he lay. 

Soft whines you let out against the thin fabric of his underpants as your fingers gripped onto his toned thighs. 

You could feel the thick outline of his dick—not that you lay experienced much but that would certainly be big as it went.

His hand stroked your hair softly and pulled you away too—“pull them down,” he ordered and fervently your fingers pulled the waist of the only fabric covering him down—his hardened dick spring out at once.

You fought all urges to touch it at once—looking right into his eyes, awaiting any command. 

“Good girl,” he groaned as he shifted his hips to angle himself better—“Tongue out,” he muttered softly, staring at your face.

Adorable to him.

On your knees you sat, tongue out and mouth wide as you watched him drag the tip of his cock and slap it against your cheeks twice—demeaning you usually would’ve found it—now you craved it dearly.

Three slaps he lay on your tongue from his tip still—plap! Plap! Plap!— salty it tasted, his Precum.

“Take it all in,” none to your surprise, you were quick to try your best—you know you couldn’t, but to try was the way to go.

“Don’t suck just yet,” he commanded, as his dick lay inside the warmth of your mouth—you wanted to gag immediately, pull away.

“Keep it there,” he whispered, the large hand grabbed at the back of your throat, keeping you from pulling away.

Tears were quick to rush down your cheeks as you struggled to gag—the slight pull and an annoyed glare from him.

All too quick he pulled out of your mouth. 

“Don’t fucking pull away,” a warning, “cry all you want—fucking throw up from gagging I don’t care, but don’t pull away,” you nodded through your tears as you took a second to catch your breath.

“Again,” he said and again, you began.

It was tough to breathe, yes, and hard not to pull away but a look at his blissful face and you couldn’t help it—“start sucking, slow,” 

And that you did, tears dried as more came a afresh, you sucked slowly onto his tip and length—weak whimpers seemed guttural as you rocked your face back and forth onto his length.

“You know why- ha- ah,” he paused, moaning, as you teased him slight, “I let you do this?”

His eyes scanned your pretty face, sucking him all so good—trying your best to please him.

“So you remember that mine is the hand that feeds you,” just then his hands balled up your hair into a fist, rough, he pulled you.

“So you- shit…Suckin’ me like the slut you are doll?” Broken gasps he let out as well as he pushed his length down your throat.

As much as you hated him having the reigns, to see him lose composure was a beautiful process. 

“That feels so fucking good — ah-! ah — I'm not pleased with you fuck j-just can't believe how good it feels to — fuck — ahhhuh — yeah that's a perfect little slut, just take  your god’s cock like you're meant to."

You couldn’t see from down there, his eyes rolling back but you knew it was tough for him to sit still—god how you loved it. 

“Listen darling,” he began yet again—his fist was quick to pull your face away from his cock, all to yours and his displeasure.

He held you by the hair—a string of spit connecting your lips to his cock hung loosely.

“Always fucking remember that you’re the one begging to be fed by me—not the other fucking way around,” you wanted to nod but all that let out was small whines - no longer caring about feeding his ego.

The cards were dealt perfectly - you  just had to play them right.

“Geto-Sama, please,” you cried, “pleasepleaseplease let me- fuck- let me help. Want you to- to mark me? Please, will you?”

Suguru fought hard to suppress the moan he wanted out—he hated that he loved seeing you this way—he hated how he wanted to see you such everyday. 

He hated how for the past almost three years he’d wanted this, how he wanted to loved you. 

Oh how he loved being so silly.

And just as that his length was shoved deep into your mouth again—and internal conflict in his mind as he face fucked you —he just wanted you carnally and you, him.

Not long did it take before you knew he was close. 

“Stay right there, fuck — oh my god I'm close. I'm so fucking close. Gonna fill up that mouth, stuff it so good not a drop spills out.”

And at that, without another word he came inside—a warm gush in your mouth as you struggled to keep it all in—to please him—hot and sticky as he slowly pulled out of your mouth.

“So pretty,” he murmured as his fingers tapped your cheek—hinting at you to swallow it all.

-

Suguru watched as your tired body panted and lay still on his form—head resting against his thigh.

A soft hand brushed through your hair, a gentle smile as he wrapped the Yakuta around your naked body.

In hindsight, maybe he would regret it—but in the present of this entirely, he loved it.

He loved you.

Two months, suguru’s heart had churned—perhaps more than yours—to have you lay against him for the past two years was no issue, not until he knew your heart was opening up to him.

And something in him fought him to have you now that, that was a bad idea.

He realized now that, that something was all too stupid a thought—especially when he could now carry your body softly, pressed up against his chest as he Carried you to the shared chambers, his chambers. 

Oh how he loved you being his - without complaint now.

A monkey—his mind called out, the woman I will love, his heart snapped back.

It had to be a promise - it didn’t flow out so easy, that love - as compared to his disdain for non-sorcerers, his disdain for your disgusting father even more.

He hated how he saw profit within you he hated how his heart sought a shrine within too, he wanted you but only if you wanted him.

It was confusing, to him and you and everyone around—that he was all so enamored by you—nothing more of than the daughter of his hitsman you were, skilled to fill that spot yourself, but it wouldn’t add up.

He couldn’t possibly have you work so much - but then, he just didn’t know how else to make you happy.

And even that, sadly only made you breakdown further.

But now, as he’d look at the serene expression on your face as you slept -everything senseless would fall back—as he fell in love a little more when your fingers clasped onto his when he was  pulling away. 

~now~

Day and night.

Slowly they passed.

The first year, then the second and then third—all the way to five years and there you sat, right beside him, regal.

Don’t get me wrong, you perhaps still hate him and he despises you too—but it is in the certain way, that every third night you’re clamping down on his form and he holds you softly right after—“I love you” muttered by neither. 

-

He wasn’t sure on to why it was the way it was. 

He hated monkeys, you were one—so equally, he must also hate you—and yet, his heart ached the day your father thrust your hand into his.

He’d seen you before that day still, running about, aloof—you enjoyed your craft—he’d enjoyed seeing you do so. Marriage to him was simply a barrier to your skills—he knew that, and yet not being married to him was a barrier to mayhaps a comfortable life.

Never before Had Suguru pitied monkeys such—and yet, to see the tears roll down your eyes, he felt captivated.

In the way the silence of his halls was dimmed when his daughters would call for you—in the way you unnecessarily commanded his house—as if you held that power.

But then, mostly you did.

In the way you held pillows all too close to yourself to feel some warmth—in the way you used the pillows as a means of a boundary between the two.

In the way you forced yourself to hate him, in the way you whimpered against his touch.

Everything.

And anything. 

All he knew deep down was he wanted you happy, with him and often, without him. 

-

“Do you know this man?” The words rolled off his tongue smooth, you stared intently at the man bowing at your feet.

“No,” words were often simple lies when you stood beside him in that assembly, the man, once referred to as your father, inhaled sharp at your words.

Suguru’s smirk only widened—your mother and sister long gone perhaps, you didn’t know, you didn’t care.

Suguru never let you care.

“He’s committed a crime,” Suguru motioned to the crowd awaiting—“A dire crime,” his eyes now trained upon you—“And as always, our goddess here will help us get rid of it, yes?”

Not the first time you’d been asked—three  years ago, the first time you’d killed in that assembly, you’d committed and since then, that’s how Suguru used you - made his promises of love to you.

The best hitsman he had, his prized one.

His hand wound around you softly, a creep to your abdomen—“wanna play a game?” 

The blood inside you rushed—it didn’t matter.

None of it.

You’d killed plenty of monkeys now - under his command, your morality had shifted.

What had seemed criminal then…now just a command, now just a shrug.

Suguru adored you simply as you did and you did too—but today was different.

Today, stood in front of you, a true criminal. 

Blood of monkeys never bothered you—you were their deity, Suguru had reminded you every time you cried, you told him of your dilemma—they were honored to die at your hands, he’d remind you.

In the 5 years, things had changed drastically indeed - Suguru was still a fraud, you no longer cared, you were still a monkey, he no longer cared.

Especially not when he held you at night - reminding you that he did love you, sometimes through whispered words that made you giggle, and sometimes through undulating sex - something both of you had sought undesirable in the beginning.

-

The wood that surrounded you was thick—beautiful really, especially for a game of hide-and-seek. 

A shove he passed to your father, rough—“Run,” he ordered, dark eyes softening as they landed upon you.

“Kill him in 2 hours and I’ll let you take over tonight,” a smile sketched onto your lips—“and if not…” a similar smile etched onto his. 

And then this was all, a man so irrelevant as your father, he ran as you toyed with him, brought down to a reward from Suguru for you.

-

“Suguru?” you often called out now, pressed to his side - a hum he’d pass - annoyed slightly, you talked much now, often when he tried to sleep.

You don’t ask him silly things now - you used to when the new shift had come - when he began holding you, when he’d begun showing care - “do you love me now?” was one of the first few ones.

You’d laid in his side - another first, he’d scoffed momentarily, “you think i would feed you soup if i didn’t?”

You’d giggled then, his heart melted as he held out another spoonful, “maybe you just want your hitsman all healthy and fine, since i’m such huge entertainment, before and after..”

He laughed along then, slight concern when your laugh turned to a cough - a huge way you’d come together, “shut up and heal,”

“Answer me,” you pressed, another shift was your tone - no longer subdued when nervous, often times teasing and sarcastic - he loved it.

“I do love you,” he’d mumbled for the first time - you’d only giggled, “i knew it.”

You had found, you loved proving yourself right to him, regardless of much he did hate being corrected and proven wrong.

And he loved it too.

(this is...not smn i'm sure of, it's just how their sex dynamics are now lol)

Another hunt took place - some woman who’d promised him thousands of money and then tried sabotaging his business - she had been quick, a good hunt indeed.

But now you lay all spent yourself.

Legs sprawled beside his head—your fingers clutched hard onto the sheet beneath.

“Suguru,” your voice drew out—a whine, “Please…” you cried out softly as his tongue lapped onto your clit.

“Please what darling?” A sharp slap landed on your inner thigh—another whine.

“I was just 7 minutes late,” your dirtied clothes lay away forgotten—the neat white towels he’d used to wipe the blood off of you—used to cleanse and purify you again lay just beside his head as you tugged on hair harshly.

A soft giggle he let out—“7 minutes too late doll- you knew the punishment right? Let me edge you thrice more now, be a good pet.”

And another giggle he passed, eliciting a sharp cry of his name when he pressed his tongue flat on your clit.

And Suguru loved this, so Did you.

Your god and his goddess.

All of this work is original and entirely my own please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[sylussweetie]

“CALL ME BABY”

Desc. What kind of fathers the LADS men would be. The kinds of kids they have. The brief dynamic amongst the children.

Featuring. Xavier, Zayne, Sylus, Rafayel, & Caleb! All x Reader/MC (separately)

w.c

A/N: Not me making problems for children. Also, the break my nuts game is a real game. My auntie was watching over some kids that were friends of a friend and they were jumping off the couch onto a firm triangle cushion trying to “break their nuts” crazy work btw, 10/10 parenting somehow

Xavier. He get’s a boy and a girl as twins. The older one I see taking on his more stoic and responsible attributes. The second kid, taking on his sleep everywhere traits but is a bad bitch on the down low. Second kid’s just unmotivated and unbothered.

Imagine it like this, if they were to grow into a high school setting, the archetypes of the first kid would be a student body president or have a role in the student body (they’d be arguing with Zayne’s kid for that role). Then the second kid would be just a “average” student with extra brain cells but wouldn’t want to put them to use. As they’re much more content with going to sleep and not exhausting as much energy as possible but when it comes to being relied on, end up being very reliable.

They def bicker a lot but not as much as Rafayel’s kids (Which we will get to later).

Xavier def treasures those kids. They would take on his hair but your eyes and have features that mostly resembled you with his cosmetics. He and second kid would get along fine and would cuddle together growing up because of how much they SLEEP. Imagine second kid clinging onto Xavier when he has to go to work. All like “daddy no! Don’t go!” Grumbling and gripping onto Xavier’s shirt.

Xavier’s oldest and him bond over simple talking, quality time in… cooking for you.

“But you’re banned from the kitchen.”

“Says who?”

“Mom.”

“She won’t even notice.”

“She will if the house is gone by the time she gets back.”

“I wasn’t aware the house could teleport. It must have been an oversight when I bought it.”

“Dad.”

Oldest kid loves practicing against Xavier with the sword. Second kid gets too dejected easily and does not truly want to do Xavier gets his fun out of oldest child. Teaching his oldest kid all the tricks he learnt and if anyone tries to get too close at school he gives them permission to defend themselves. If you know what I mean.

The oldest kid inherits Xavier’s light evol. They def train together. The second kid doesn’t care but they’re like a naturally talented and gifted sort of genius who doesn’t have to try. I’d say they’re really good at the sword with bad evol control or have skilled evol usage with a lack of effort or skill in sword fighting. One or the other.

The kids ask about how you and Xavier fell in love and Xavier’s always so sentimental when he tells the story. His rendition. Something you haven’t heard from him before but did now. First kid is sitting obediently at his side and looking up to the face of their father listening intently. While second child is lazing with their head on Xavier’s thigh as Xavier brushes their hair.

Zayne. Zayne feels like a girl dad or a boy dad, but with only one child. Honestly if he has a girl first, it’s a single child. If he has a boy first, then he has a young girl right after but when the boy is 5-7 so they have a pretty decent age difference.

Girl dad Zayne loves his baby girl. So, so much. She’s taken on your features, your hair, your eyes. I guess the only thing she has of his is the cold personality. Though not really cold, just shy and then with your chipper excitement whenever she lights up at anything she loves. Is also a lover of dessert. You have to yell at them both when they sneak away extra macaroons.

Zayne knows it’s wrong but can’t help it when she gives him the puppies of eyes.

Zayne’s son has almost all of his colors save for his features. He’s inherited the eyebrows for sure but the other features are yours. Sculpted soft nose and cushy cheeks. When he was born, Zayne couldn’t help but ghostly pinch at the chub of his newborn son. Almost looking akin to that cheery little seal he would always craft out of his evol.

Zayne’s daughter loves her big brother so, so much. She walks to school with him while holding his hand and skipping with the biggest, toothiest smile on his face. Whenever you give her candy she always saves a piece to share with her older brother and loves to tease him with sticky candied fingers. She adores being twirled around by him in the air and it always ends up with you having to warn them to be careful not to fall. She’s the only one she has such an easy time showing emotion with (besides you guys).

When she gets older she stops trying to be so reliant on him. Especially in public, she’s so independent and self reliant to everyone else, but at school she gets all embarrassed and shy when her big brother comes into class to remind her that she forgot her water bottle. Or that mom told her to eat all the veggies packed in her bento. Her classmates all awe at him and how cool her big brother is.

Zayne’s son is hardwired to look after his wittle baby sister. He can’t help it, she’s so cute. But also as he grows older he begins to wish for time to himself and independence from having to be an older protective brother. With so much weight on his shoulders he begins to act out and at some point claims that his dad only cares about his baby sister and that he doesn’t love him. (He’s a pre-teen give him a break).

All is resolved of course after a talk and that Zayne assured him he loves him, and pinching his cheeks.

Zayne’s son being the cool VP that hangs around and lets the kids chill from the rules while Zayne’s daughter in her generation is the president and is def more strict.

They both inherit Zayne’s snow ability but to your Evol versatility. Zayne’s son specializing in more imaginative moving creatures while Zayne’s daughter specializes in ice in the form of intricate and sturdy sculptures.

Rafayel. Rafayel has a girl, and a younger boy. No questions asked. Only like 3-4 years apart. The older girl is a sassy version of him, if not sassier. She has his hair, and his eyes. Although the big bug eyed version of them where it feels like she’s constantly staring into your soul. Constantly has them tied in adorable little pigtails at the side of her that swish back and forth when she shakes her head “no” especially when she was a toddler, a little pout on her face, lower lip jutted out as she crosses her arms with watery eyes peaking up at you both.

She is in fact a daddy’s girl, but very much still loves you. When she was younger she’d fight you over who got to cuddle dad in bed until Rafayel just tucked himself in the middle and cuddled you both. When she’s older she’s much more content with just you, and in fact finds her dad’s possession of your time to be really annoying. She wants to go shopping with you, for you to do her hair. For you to bake with her.

If anything, she kinda feels bad when she was younger for preferring her dad over you and wants to remind you that she loves you, too. Especially when you had her brother. Who took up most of your time. This was when she truly noticed the loss of your attention.

She kinda bullied him a lot too lol. But not too harshly, usual sibling banger of chasing each other around with a knife and threatening death. Then consoling and begging not to tell mom or dad. With her is the only time he’ll ever fight or argue back. But in a shy “leave me alone!” Kid sort of way. They bicker and banter back and forth. “Go climb a tree! Bug eyed freak!” “I hope the sharks eat you! You’d taste better than the grass!”

Rafayel’s son is much shyer. With one eye the color of Rafayel’s gradient hues and the other one of yours. He’s quite different than the both of you since you’re both so bold, especially with each other. He’s sensitive, and very shy. When he was younger, he’d often liked to be held by you and would bury his chubby face into your neck. He likes hiding behind Rafayel’s leg in public when he has his art galleries cause he still likes to see the pretty art his papa makes.

He loves to paint, Rafayel and him bonded that way. Rafayel somewhat got him out of his shell when his son was gifted the most talented artist award in kindergarten. In middle to highschool, Rafayel’s son gets pretty famous for being such a talented artist (but often gets compared to his dad and how he can’t live up to the original). Oh well, guess that’s why his older sister is there to beat them all up.

Younger son has evol doing with painting. The elements he paints come to life for a momentary period of time. He’s still learning to use it. Older sister has Rafayel’s fire evol. She’s more of a fighter though like her mom rather than a “dainty” artist. However, she fights with a force and grace of that of a well practiced and skilled dancer.

Sylus. Twins. Two girls. One boy. Just a five year age gap. His little girls are fierce and bold. Just as daring, sly and cunning. He spoils them SO much. They come back from weekend shopping trips from different parts of the world, sometimes richer in fashion and sometimes richer in mind. He definitely takes them to explore other cultures and they bring back souvenirs from their travels.

His girls love to hang onto Sylus like little monkeys. Very adventurous. If one of them is climbing his leg, the other one is hanging off his arm as he holds it up like a branch. Even as they get older to beg him for something they use this tactic.

As for his son, Sylus likes to sit with his son. It’s kind of strange cause the little boy is so quiet. Sylus likes to clean his guns with his son. Having the little child sit on the couch just staring blankly at his father reload and clean a gun. Of course, safety first.

His son inherits his animal loving trait. Horses? Check? A strange forest water creature? Check. A beaver? Strangely yes. Cats? Especially cats. If he goes outside expect him to come back with at least one cat that managed to follow him home.

“Who is that?”

“That’s Mochi and Miles. They’re brothers, Mochi is really nice but Miles is really mean.”

He looks up at you with those puppiest eyes, “Can we keep them?”

Before Sylus was more adept as a parent he had Mephisto watch over the twins in the crib. He had a special crib made with a perch sturdy enough to hold between two cribs so the crow could look over them all at once.

After you found out you scolded him, “what is a bird going to do if they’re in danger?”

“CAWCAW.”

“He’s going to do that.”

Luke and Kieran love the girls. Twinsies!!! They play house with them, feed them, albeit they’re both very clumsy in trying to feed the stubborn kids. The oldest is definitely very impatient and eats as fast as possible to go play, a choking hazard. The second one is patient and eats slow while transfixed with the TV, also a choking hazard with how distracted she gets. They both are very worried, very paranoid, very protective.

On the playground a little boy comes up to give Sylus’s second daughter a flower, all blushing and unable to meet her eyes as she’s more confused rather than thankful. But take it anyway. Luke and Kieran watching the whole thing interrogated the poor kid.

This kid is someone in Second daughter’s class that always remains behind the scenes throughout the years. In middle school he’s a pimply nervous kid and gets a completely glow up in high school that has every girl blushing but he only has eyes for second daughter.

Kieran and Luke refer to the son as little monarch. Throw him up in the air and like to shadow box with him. They’ll come out from the shadows and as Sylus’s son is throwing a punch, they’ll dramatically toss themselves backwards and groan in pain.

First daughter is chatty as FUCK. Wanting to know everything about her baby brother while second daughter watches and observes.

“Mommy, what does he eat?”

“Milk.”

“From a cow?”

“No.”

“From your nipples?”

“Whe-where did you learn that?”

“Did we drink from your nipples too?”

“Sylus!”

Sylus’s son is much more deadpanned, reserved, less excitable than the girls but just as adventurous if not more bold because of this personality difference. He gives off little shit energy. He’s a menace who does what he wants and loves to piss off his older sisters.

However, he’s a mommy’s boy. Prefers to spend days with you whether it be action based, training in the ring or relaxing, spa based. He loves both because he wants to spend time with his mom.

Very often it’s Sylus showing you PDA and all three of the kids BLEGHING at the sight. Although they acknowledge that they’re very lucky to have healthy, loving parents.

The oldest twin and son takes on the more physical attributes of both their parents. They both love boxing. While Sylus’s second daughter is more elegant and dancer-like. She’s more nimble and lean. Definitely took acrobatics when she was younger.

Second daughter takes on Sylus’s evol but in a ribbon leverage sort of manner. Kind of like Spiderman in movement and functionality but with evol strings. Son takes on mother’s attribute of physical combat with Sylus’s build. Think of the “BEAT HIS ASS” audio and that’s the vision you get whenever he fights. He grows to be way taller than his sisters. Older daughter is a combination of both, a master of none but a jack of all trades. She’s got skilled abilities in fighting, and evol manipulation but it’s her father’s manipulative eye that she’s got the most handle over out of the three.

Caleb. Caleb would have twin boys, one girl. Six year age gap. He’s hoping for a kid to look like you, but the twins share his resemblance. It’s extremely uncanny. The only thing they’d have is your nose bridge and eye structure. Otherwise it’s those beady lavender’s staring right back at him.

Metal arm Caleb is especially careful of holding the kids, definitely letting his more fleshy one being the one to hold his kids. Especially before they can even crawl, open their eyes, etc. He really wants to hold both kids in both arms, he’s strong enough to but is too afraid of hurting them. As they grow older they get used to their daddy’s “robot arm” and begin to ask questions about its origins and how other daddy’s don’t have robot arms.

They’re also very mischievous. Grabbing each other’s hair, especially as infants who can crawl. The youngest in retaliation always grabs the oldest’ hair and never lets go until he gets a toy. Or as they grow older, throwing dirt in the other’s faces, stealing a portion of their food but never taking each other’s portion of dessert because that’s sacred. Not as bad as Rafayel’s kids but 100% more physical.

They’re also both sort of manipulative. In the cute little shit way and less of the egotistical man sort of way. They want simple things like candy, not world domination (yet). They both also fight over your attention, and fight their dad for your attention. Caleb makes it very well known his little shits can’t have you at night but you will most certainly tuck them in.

The kids always BLEGH whenever he calls you pipsqueak or anything super endearing. With such love in his voice and heart eyes, a hand around your waist and leaning down to kiss your forehead. Such a love they cannot fathom just yet as they repulse is disgust at the affection.

“Momma we can kiss you way better than papa can.”

“Yeah, papa’s icky right now. He’s got cooties and germs all over him.”

“Your momma loves my cooties just fine.” He teases them with a flick to both their foreheads.

He loves flying paper airplanes for them, especially when they were toddlers. The way the two of them would toddle after an airplane mid flight with wide soft lavender eyes. Caleb also regales to them old “war stories” about being on the fleet.

They think he’s the coolest when he’s telling them these types of stories. They also try to play fight with him, all about how their evol is way stronger cause they’re younger and he’s a sad old man. He obviously beats them, never lets them truly win and it’s only after about three times does he let them succeed in “defeating” him.

The boys are just menaces, playing dangerous games like jumping off the couch like a ninja or climbing on each other’s shoulders. Jumping from the couch onto—albeit—soft cushions to play the “break my nuts” game they made up on a whim.

You and Caleb are both exhausted but happy. Yet there’s just one more thing he wants…

When Caleb gets his daughter she looks just like you. His hair but your eyes and your features. He loves her so much, adores her. The very first day you gave birth to her he wouldn’t put her down. His finger presenting itself to her tiny soft grabby little hands as she grips onto his larger finger tightly. She can’t open her eyes yet but her mouth is agape with the tiniest and most adorable little “o” as if she’s perpetually yawning. His mini pipsqueak.

The boys are rough players, and very loud, very destructive. You both cannot have nice things for long. You wonder how they’ll be.

When Caleb presents to them their baby sister they become quiet. Unknown with the little creature that sits so small and quietly in their father’s arms.

“Why is she so wrinkly?”

“Why is she so small?”

“She’s shaped like a potato.”

“She’s wrapped in a blanket, and you were small and wrinkly once like this too, y’know.” Caleb teases with a small grin.

The second oldest talks at normal voice level—loud—and Caleb has to shush him for fear of waking up the baby. They don’t think it’s much of an issue but after that they have to deal with crying in the night at fuck who knows hours and second oldest is a light sleeper so he definitely hates having the little potato around.

The boys hate how they have to tiptoe around her for the longest time while she’s this size. They’d get to a point where the oldest decides to rebel and the second son follows his lead and they both start screaming and hitting pots and pans. They’re such menaces.

Poor little Caleb’s daughter, with her baby ears and sensitive sleep schedule. He obviously yells at the boys and makes it very clear they can act like this again when she grows older.

They sort of resent her for a small period of time but grow to become fond of her when she’s a toddler. She cries less and sleeps through the night. Through exposure she’s gotten attached to her big brothers and sits by them whenever they’re watching a movie or follows them whenever they erratically walk around the house roleplaying as far space pirate.

They’re both very attentive and aware of what will hurt her, albeit not because they were taught to be Caleb but because they’ve learned to care about her safety over time. She fell down the stairs once? Her crying broke their hearts. Oldest kid kicked the stairs in anger and started crying because he hurt his foot. Second kid kicked the stairs for hurting both his older brother and baby sister, also started crying because he stubbed his toe. All in all, don’t kick the stairs.

As she grows older the boys tease her and kind of leave her out of things when they play together. They’re not exactly mean or cruel but they grew up together and prefer their boy time with one another. However, it doesn’t mean that they don’t feel bad about preferring playing sometimes without her. After they’re satisfied they also return to her with an apology and promise of the new big adventure the three of them will be on together.

When her hair’s longer, Caleb takes extra care to brush it, style it and takes care of her like he did for you when you were both younger. His little princess.

Don’t even mention boys or the possibility of her dating, it’ll break his heart knowing no one is good enough for his little girl. Not to mention the way the twins would erratically and immediately be threatening death if that boy were to do their sister wrong.

The twins inherit his abilities of gravity manipulation evol and the third inherits your abilities.

[mcytanti]

manehare analysis i looooove this freakish duo.

on the surface this team seems very sudden and doesn't make sense i mean they were enemies for such a long time, however, i think they make Perfect Sense Actually.

manehare makes sense because both of them gives what the other wants while acknowledging the place they are coming from. they have a distrust now but i think if they play it right they can have something that lasts across seasons.

we got confirmation today manepear really just loves his little chunguses. (his comment about being a mama bear really stands out to me it was awesome). we saw it earlier in the server with zam, then later with wemmbu and bacon. but all 3 of them didnt satisfy mane in the way he wanted. zam was friendly with the brothers but he was for the most part self sufficient, mane let wemmbu into the bandits thinking he would have to be taken care of but it turns out wemmbu was secretly good at pvp and while he lazy could take care if himself in a fight. bacon never wanted to play ball with mane and refused his advances.

however kab is perfeeeect for mane, she needs his help and his protection but she isnt lazy like wemmbu was. she's intelligent, cunning, and willing to learn so he gets all if the ego boosting of taking care of someone who wants his help but none of the annoyance of a resource drainer (sorry wemmbu but its true 😭).

mane is also perfect for kab, he's filling the void clown has left.

since the start of the season kab has wanted a powerful ally who can stand beside her when she wants them to, someone who can guide her, but someone who is also willing to crush her enemies when asked. she thought clown would be that but when given the opportunity he's been lack luster in the role. she then turned to zam as a guide and a teammate, but he didn't want to be her guiding light and thought it was far too sudden to team plus he was unwilling to do her dirty work so kazam fell apart.

mane, however, has a deep blood lust (wanting to death ban all the revived people is the most notable example of this) so he's perfectly fine with carrying out kab's plans as long as it means they agree on killing. he's also willing to train kab without her having to prove herself like she has to with clown (its in my personal opinion kab would have never proven herself to clown. not because she isn't good but because clown simply isnt interested in her development but thats another matter).

in my opinion the 14 killings is actually really good for this team! it means that kab cannot idolize mane the same way she did clown or zam because she knows that no matter what, mane is dangerous, he's able to kill her and is more than willing to kill her. and for mane despite the 14 killings kab still being willing to work with him must give him a crazy amount of validation because it proves that no matter what happened before kab needs him now

i think as long as the focus on their shared goal they can build a real trust with each other. not like a "i trust you not to kill me" trust but a trust the older lifesteal pairs have, that "i know how you think i know you inside and out and no matter what happens we will comeback together" trust.

however they still have all the potential in the world to fall apart in a pretty spectacular way. like if one of them gets too paranoid and betrays the other, or if they're influenced to betray by people outside the dynamic, or maybe kab's planning to betray from the start and we're all fools for thinking manehare could ever work, or simply losing sight of their shared goal and becoming enemies again. all those things could still happen!

no matter what i just love manehare as a duo. they indulge each other's deepest desires but they have so much potential to fuck it all up it a horrible terrible way. its such a careful balance with them im so excited to see where they go from here

[quietplace26]

Furina!MC au: Omegaverse Edition.

Warnings: OCness, Cringe, yandereness, Stockholm Symdrome?, Leviathan as Pre-Neuvillette's name, Omega/Alpha/Beta Dynamics.

Being an Omega in her last life wasn't anything worthwhile.

Cruel words being thrown at you daily, people refusing to hire you and telling you to go get a job as a stripper or worse, being fearful about an Alpha forcing themselves onto you and no one caring.

Yeah, Furina!MC hated it.

But she hated it more, now, as she found herself as 'Furina' in Genshin impact, and being told by Focalors that she had to rule Fontaine as a 'Beta'... even though she was clearly an Omega.

But Focalors didn't listen. She does something to Furina!MC's body, muffling her Omega scent entirely, and forces her to go greet Fontaine's people as their new Beta Hydro Archon.

And Fontaine, as Furina!MC learned... was nothing like her old world.

Apparently, Fontaine and most likely all of Teyvat treated Omegas like blessings, as they were incredibly rare after the Cataclysm.

The few Omegas that were in Fontaine were clearly treated very well from what Furina!MC could see. Smiling happily, scent happy and sweet, and many had pups...

Furina!MC wished she didn't feel the jealously she felt...

Focalors was quick to tell her not to pay any attention to those 'silly' Omegas and focus on leading Fontaine.

"Focus on your role, my dear Beta." Furina!MC wants to gag at being called a Beta. "Fontaine and everyone are relying on you, so don't mess up."

She might've not enjoyed being an Omega in her last life, but it was a part of herself. So being told to be something else, to ignore her needs... she wanted to cry...

Focalors was harsh, not even letting Furina!MC make a nest for herself for comfort when in the safety and privacy of her room, saying only Omegas needed nest, and Furina!MC wasn't an Omega.

And this stress eventually boils down to Furina!MC breaking down completely not even a few years later.

Due to Focalors' meddling, and the fact she hadn't allowed Furina!MC to destress in any heathy Omega way possible causes Focalors' veil on Furina!MC's Omega side to crumble, and the poor Omega falls into a painful stress heat.

Her sour scent of pain and fear immediately catches the attention of her Beta maids nearby, who in turn frantically call for a doctor as some of them tried to calm Furina!MC.

Needless to say, when Furina!MC woke up a few days later, she's shocked to see she was in a new room.

A few bookshelves filled with some books, a single desk and chair, soft carpeting covering the whole floor, and most of all... a GIANT nest with the softest blankets and pillows.

There were even several plush toys of Fontaine's wildlife around the room too. The blubberbeast one look prefect to cuddle...

She hears a door open, and sees some of her maids peeking in, giving her worried look. Furina!MC tries to smile, but she was still so sluggish from her stress heat...

Which, thinking of that, why didn't she feel pain down there? An Alpha surely would've usually taken their chance to-

Her spike of fear and confusion must've been noticeable as one of her older maids swept in, gathering the trembling Omega in her arms, and hugged her.

Furina!MC cries on the spot, giving the maids the signal to move in to join in the cuddle pile.

Her Omega side purrs. Cuddles. She was finally getting cuddles-

After some much needed cuddling, Furina!MC would come to learn that this room was her new home now, as Fontaine's hierarchy decided that due to her collapse and reveal at being an Omega, it was too risky to remain free.

In her head Focalors was having a hissy fit as this wasn't part of the plan, and Furina!MC, well, she was scared but no Alpha had forced themselves onto her yet, and she got all the softest things for her very big and very comfy new nest.

She also got food that fit her taste palate more, soft clothes that didn't feel too tight or loose on her skin, cuddles from friendly, TRUSTWORTHY Betas.

(Fontaine has a small but thriving Beta Cuddling Business. Sometimes Alphas or Omegas need a good cuddle, but don't want scents to get in the way.)

She could purr, chirp, and make all the sounds she wants, freely showing her emotions through noises and her scent.

She was allowed to play and cuddle with pups whose parents worked at Palais Mermonia.

Sometime later, she was allowed to go outside the Palais Mermonia, but only if she had a few Alpha Guards with her at all times.

No Fontainian Alpha ever pushed their scent onto her or used their Alpha Command on her... baring that one foolish Sumeru Foreigner who stupidly tried to use his, only for it not to work and promptly get thrown out of Fontaine.

Apparently because she was an Archon, or maybe it was due to her Oceanid roots, human Alpha commands don't have any use on Furina!MC.

She could still rule Fontaine. No one was taking over her role. Fontaine as a whole just wanted her safe and healthy.

Her having heats again was still a pain, but now she had access to healthier methods to deal with them.

Strong medicine, her own Heat room filled with soft materials, and of course... special 'toys' for Omegas in heat.

What she really loved, however, was the fact no one pushed her to take a heat partner. Be it a Beta or Alpha, no one pushed her or tried to manipulate her.

Her boundaries were being respected, and she absolutely loves that.

Focalors hisses at her to snap out of it and take back her rightful role and to stop acting like a pathetic Omega slu-

For the first time since she reincarnated, Furina!MC manages to mute Focalors.

She didn't want to be 'Furina' the 'Beta' Archon.

She wanted to be herself, an Omega, true and proud.

With that, Focalors soon becomes a muted background noise in her head, and Furina!MC happily accepts her new and SAFER life in Teyvat as a spoiled and happy Omega.

...Or at least until Focalors somehow manages to send that damn letter to the Hydro Dragon Sovereign, still ever determined to achieve her goal whether her puppet would listen or not.

And Furina!MC? She's forgotten all about the plot as she drifts more into a peaceful Omega headspace. Just relaxing in her glided cage, snoozing in her comfy nest, playing with pups that visit her, and maybe even joining the Omegas that sing at the Opera house.

...Leviathan glares heatedly at the letter in his claws before crumpling it up with a huff.

The Hydro Usurper wants to talk? Talk about him working for her? Such arrogance!

The letter spoke of him getting rid of an Omega bitch. One that was preventing Focalors from saving her nation and gifting back his rightful Authority.

'Get rid of her and you'll be one step closer to having what was once yours back in your hands, O' Great Hydro Sovereign'

Who did she think he was? Her pet? To order him around so shamelessly-

He grinds his teeth, lilac draconic eyes glaring harshly at the place of residence of the so-called Lovely Omega of Fontaine. The pride and joy, the Hydro Archon herself.

Thinking back to Focalors letter, the Goddess makes it seem like the Omega took everything from her. Even when she gave her human side puppet life-

Well, it didn't matter. This Omega was the Goddess' human side, meaning she was just as much as a Usurper as Focalors.

It didn't matter if she was Omega. It didn't matter if his pride as a Hydro Dragon screamed at him for even thinking of hurting an Omega.

She ungratefully held a part of his power in her hands, and he wanted it back.

So, if Focalors wanted him to kill her, then this would be the only time he'd listen to a Usurper.

He easily slinks into the Palais, sneaking past Guards until he finds what he was looking for.

The Omega Archon's room. Tightly sealed with lock and key.

But one swipe of his claws and he opens the door... and nearly gets bowled over by the syrupy, sweet scent of a happy and relaxed Omega.

Leviathan stumbles back, his back hitting a wall as he shudders, unintentionally huffing more of that mouthwatering scent in.

This scent- By Father Nibelung it was like nothing he's ever smelled before! Both from his first life and current one!

Oh, he could live off this scent alone-

No! No, he... he was here for a reason! Not here for a- what? A mate? With the Omega Archon? No, he had to kill-

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?! Guards!"

Leviathan bristles as humans come flying around the corner, their human Alpha stench revolting compared to sweet scent of the Omega hidden in the room.

He flares his own scent, snarling loudly as he prepares to show these pathetic humans who the real Alpha was...

But then, before any fighting could break out, a quiet murmur is heard from within the Hydro Archon's room, from under the covers of a large looking nest.

The covers shift and fall as a small form slowly sat up, yawning and stretching before sleepy teardrop eyes gaze Leviathan lurking near the door, frozen.

Oh... This... this was the Hydro Archon? The Omega, the one Focalors claimed needed to be killed so she could take back her spot to give him back his authority? This is her?

She looks at the humans, before her sleepy gaze flickers back to his. Her noses twitches cutely, scenting the air, before tilting her head.

She mutters a quiet, "Alpha...?"

And just like that, love at first sight. He's a changed Dragon, and he's about to fold like wet paper before this adorable creature.

All the while this happens, Focalors is raging from within the Oratrice as her plan to get rid of that Omega wretch fails as her biggest player, the Hydro Sovereign himself, acts like a lovesick pup before the sleepy Omega.

Extra Notes.

Because of her sending that letter to Leviathan, Focalors used up a good chunk of energy, meaning she had to go into statis for a few 100 years in the Oratrice.

Not like Furina!MC really cared as she learned long ago how to mute the Goddess' voice in her head...

Leviathan- or well, Neuvillette (As like hell he was giving his true names to these humans), was arrested that night he broke into the Palais. Sleepy Furina!MC was enough to stall his brain enough for his capture.

But he didn't even stay in the Fortress for even an hour before he snuck back into the Palais with fresh fish, some seashells and pearls, and flowers as he knew human women liked flowers, so Furina!MC should as well, right?

Since she was now more awake, Furina!MC was shyer around him. Add in everyone in Fontaine was trying to keep him away from her, and you got a mess.

An obsessed Dragon is a determined Dragon, and that meant no silly humans would be able to stop him from courting the Omega Archon.

Furina!MC honestly doesn't take him seriously. She thinks it's a joke. Like why would Neuvillette like her?

Since she was in a more aware state, she remembers that, oh, there was plot, and she needed to Neuvillette to be her Ludex so people wouldn't die, so she politely asks him.

And Neuvillette? He's like 'What Treasure wants Treasure gets', he'll become the best damn Ludex Fontaine's ever seen!

He still courts her over the next few years, ignoring as every Fontainian gives him the stink eye as he starts to break down their Archon's barriers, getting closer and closer to her.

And then one night, when he knew she was about to fall into her monthly heat, she shyly grabs his hand before he could leave.

She rubs her face against his hand, scenting it, even pressing a shy kiss to it, before slowly tugging him into her room...

...And he stays with her throughout her whole heat.

So, saying that, it shouldn't come as a shock when word gets out that Furina!MC now had a pretty matting mark on her once flawless neck and covered head to toe in a strong Alpha's dominating scent, but underneath it all, there was also the scent of a happy, bred Omega.

There was no doubt that she was pupped.

And Fontaine knew for a fact who marked and pupped up their precious Hydro Archon.

Around this time the Melusines were formally introduced, and while they received a negative response from Fontaine, all that was needed was Furina!MC to do was pout and Fontaine crumbled before her.

Needless to say, the Melusines were now considered Furina!MC pups, meaning they were to be treated with respect.

Because if they didn't, it would make Furina!MC unhappy.... and Neuvillette enraged.

It honestly helps that the Melusines were all scentless, making them have easier times with stressed Alphas and Omegas who had sensitive noses.

Many even got jobs at the Beta Cuddling Business, as not only did their scent lessness work out perfectly for this job, but their fluffiness made them prime cuddling partners.

Oh, there was also a small incident with the Oratrice. As one night, it just broke down randomly... and there was also an odd rain shower afterwards, but Fontaine didn't think much of it.

After all, they always get rain, so how was this one different?

No one notices how the Ludex suddenly got a boost in strength after that odd rain shower, only that Furina!MC announced that Fontaine no longer had to worry about the prophecy.

With the prophecy thwarted earlier than canon, that meant things would no doubt change in the future... and Furina!MC was fine with that.

She was safe. She had a home. She had a loving, strong mate. She even had a pup on the way, and more would probably come after that one. And that was all an Omega could ask for.

....The Traveler sighs as both they and Paimon follow behind the Melsuine that was acting as their guide.

They only just arrived at Fontaine a few days ago, hoping they'd have an easier time locating the Hydro Archon compared to the others... but by the sound of it, it sounded like she was stuck in a similar situation like Nahida's.

Trapped by her own people, but in this case, it was out of a sense of messed up protection and love? Really, they don't understand any of it. After all, they were just a Beta, and Paimon didn't have a designation.

But at the very least, she was willing to meet them. Which is a whole lot better compared to their past attempts in the first 4 nations...

"Mama! I brought the guests you ask for!" The Melusine calls out as she opens the door, leading the Traveler and Paimon inside.

And they're gifted to the sight of the hidden Hydro Archon in the flesh. Glowing with a pregnancy glow that only carrying Omega's could have, carrying her newest pup in her belly, the Omega Archon greets them with a soft, friendly smile.

"Welcome, Mademoiselle/Monsieur Traveler, Mademoiselle Paimon. I heard you had some questions for me? Come, sit and let's talk."

Even as she says this with easy smile, it doesn't stop Paimon from squeaking in fear and hiding behind the Traveler as Neuvillette glowered at the pair from beside his mate, and Furina!MC's pups, both by blood and adopted (Melusine or human), give the pair terrifying looks, daring them to upset their lovely mama.

[moonshynecybin]

The Marquez family dynamics is like crack to my brain i think about it way to much. Like you've got marc and Alex the most codependent siblings to ever live who shared a bedroom until they moved out of their family home in their 20s just to move in with eachother. From some stuff I've seen Julia and Roser divorced (I have no clue when) they are always following marc and Alex's careers and are very involved and Marc and Alex both speak really highly of them but sometimes I look at how marc and Alex are and some stuff in old articles and go there childhood was definitely not all sunshine and rainbows and happiness and Marc's talked in the past about how he was raised by his grandfather cause his parents always worked but them the economic crisis in Spain made a teenage marc the main money bringer in the family with is crazy. Like Marc and Alex are closer than a lot of twins even are and Marc is like a father figure/brother role and Alex is one of the only people in the world that probably knows Marc's inner thoughts. Like I'm constantly thinking about his post for marc when he left Honda and the stuff he must have seen marc go through in those injury years. And the stories about Marc's injury in 2011 where marc was apparently the most calm one and was the one calming his parents down is crazy to me like 18 years old possible career ending injury and he's the one with the most level head. This got so much longer than I expected.

no i agree its one of those things where even if your parents arent absent or abusive per seee, it also doesnt mean that they are like perfect parents who leave you baggage free. and i think marc and alex CERTAINLYYYY have parental baggage lol

[yokohamapound]

this is my first time requesting! >_< i love ur style of writing! may i request a headcanon of a soft dom brat tamer reader with ranpo? please and thank you! :)

Hey! I hope these are okay! <3

Characters: Edogawa Ranpo

Contents: gn!reader, soft dom/brat tamer!reader, sub!Ranpo, light bondage, oral, light spanking, sex toys, overstim, aftercare

Edogawa Ranpo

If there's one thing we know about Ranpo, it's that he likes to be taken care of. Ranpo enjoys solving complex mysteries, being right, and eating snacks. He's not interested in the rest of the mundane details, so if you want to be in control, that's fine by him!

A soft dom is more suitable for him in the bedroom—he's not going to enjoy extreme bondage or harsh corporal punishment. No whips and chains for your boy, please.

But someone who can take a firm, loving hand with him and make him behave? That could be very, very effective...

Ranpo is a brat in bed, no doubt about it. He's cheeky, demanding, and impatient. You might be tempted to indulge his every whim because he's so damn cute, letting him get his way all the time, but after a while he'd find himself getting bored with that. Part of the reason he acts the way he does with you is because he expects some pushback.

The first time he leans in to steal a kiss and you catch his chin in your hand, telling he has to earn a kiss, his eyes open wide, pretty and green and interested. In true Ranpo form, he turns his face away, sulking.

"I don't want one now, anyway."

You notice him watching you from the corner of his eye. Time to pull out that cherry lip balm and apply it, slow and generous, so he can catch the scent of it, imagine the taste. Ranpo's mouth waters at the sight of your lips, glossy like candy.

"Hypothetically speaking, what would I have to do...?"

It starts fairly slowly—small, but tangible shifts in your bedroom dynamic—but you can tell it excites him. Kisses are freely given during the day, but at night he has to earn them, which he does with much gleeful complaining.

The first time you tie his wrists to the bedposts and blindfold him, he realises his deduction skills are a little bit hampered if he can't see. He can't quite predict where you're going to touch him. He squirms as you work your way down his body, mapping him out with hands and lips and tongue. His nipples are surprisingly sensitive, as are the insides of his thighs. But you skirt around his cock, which stands stiff and begging for attention, the tip already weeping precum.

"C'mon," he whines. "This isn't fair."

"Use your words. Ask me nicely."

He gives a groan of protest. His cheeks are flushed, but you see how his thighs spread, hips pushing up in supplication.

"Touch me. Please."

"Good boy."

Oh, that's another thing—your boy's praise kink is off the charts. Those two words are enough to set Ranpo's cock twitching even without stimulation, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle a moan.

He loves playing up his brat role, huffing and whining, or just doing things you haven't given him permission to do, because as much as he loves praise, he also loves the feeling of reassurance when he's lovingly put in his place with a light spank onn his ass, or some delay to his gratification.

Or even being made to sink down on his knees and apologise with his mouth. Face buried between your thighs, licking for all he's worth, your hand gently tangled among his dark locks as you tell him how well he's doing, how sweet and smart he is, how talented his tongue, your voice laced with pleasure. Ranpo's mouth is flooded with your taste, his head filled your words, his autonomy in your hands for an hour or two. By the time you let him up for air, his face is smeared with your fluids, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glassy with arousal.

Even as a soft dom, sometimes you have to carry out a (pre-agreed) punishment, because your brat has misbehaved one too many times and gentle correction isn't cutting it.

That's when Ranpo gets turned over your knee. He'll whine and protest of course, but you make sure he can't squirm away. It's less about the sting of your hand coming down on his ass, and more about the loss of control, the loss of your approval. Your spanks are firm enough to turn his backside a light shade of pink, to give a little sting, but you have to go and complicate things... The little rubber ring around his cock buzzes incessantly, vibrations running down the underside of his shaft. Every impact from your hand jolts through him, surging along his cock. Intense pleasure mixes with mild pain in an intoxicating cocktail.

You push him past cumming, even when his thighs are trembling, the sheets are soaked from his seed, and he's almost drooling, clutching the sheets and swearing he'll be good for you, so good...

Aftercare is absolutely essential. He needs to come up out of that subspace, and he needs careful handling. Snacks and sweet milk tea, and your arms to crawl into. He'll always nap after a session, devour everything in the cupboards, then suggest you go out to this fancy dessert place he knows—you're paying, of course.

[cassandraclare]

*sighs a bit* Okay. Guys. I have been asked this question a lot, and answered it a lot. I don't know how to give a better answer — Dru & Ty&Kit share significance as main characters — so I guess I'll talk a little about comparison and structures.

First, all series have different structures. I don't think it's super useful or predictive to try to map an upcoming, unknown book series onto an existing series. In TLH the main character was Cordelia, everyone else was secondary to her, and people's roles and the significance of them altered from book to book. It was a big ensemble cast and they mostly stayed put in London especially in book 1.

TWP focuses on a smaller group of people. It also has a very different structure. In book one, Dru is not with Kit and Ty. They are in different places, both of which have their own stories that are significant to the plot. There is no way to see Place One without following Dru. There is no way to see Place Two without following Kit and Ty.

I know that TWP is a long way off. I know there are people who are very angry with me that there's such a gap, but there isn't anything currently I can do about that, or about the fact that I don't yet have the schedule for my upcoming books. That rests in the hands of several different publishers who must coordinate the release times and production schedules for four different series. I am not withholding any information about when these books come out. I simply don't know it yet.

I understand that TWP being a long way off makes for anxiety, and that those who are worried Kit and Ty will somehow be secondary are looking for tiny clues in microscopic details — micro-reading the of placement of the word "and" in my newsletter and such — that are meaningless, but I get that it all comes from anxiety. (FTR, those worried Dru will be secondary are equally anxious.)

I think there is only so much I can say. Because there's a big gap between TLH and TWP everything I do say or every image or hint about it is freighted with a weight of assumption it can't really support. Anxiety is always going to trump reassurance. And truly, at the end of the day, if you only care about Kit and Ty and find the idea of a Dru story tiresome, you will feel like they got shafted because when you absolutely hate a plotline, you will always feel like it's taking up way too much space. That's just how our minds work.

I've been doing this long enough that I know no book can survive a hostile reading. I know that Book Three of a trilogy is the one people hate until they don't. (When Clockwork Princess came out people hated it so much I considered quitting writing!) I know that it's wonderful to love a character but can also be a problem for people when I put out books that aren't about that particular character or dynamic. I know that for a lot of people, Sword Catcher and Ragpicker King are just tiresome things that have no business on my schedule because they're not Shadowhunter books. And I get it. But I also have to block it out, because I've been writing a long time, and I've gotten to a point where I know that I have to write the thing I want to be writing, because if I don't, if I sit down and try to force myself to write something I'm not feeling like writing at that time, I'll be making myself physically and mentally sick. And that's no good for anyone, really.

I suppose the positive thing is that, while this would not have been true five years ago, I am at the place where I want very much to be writing Wicked Powers. I missed these characters and am glad to be back with them. I consider this a story in which there are three main characters. And that is all I can say right now because it's all that I know.

(And this was much more of a general response to a lot of things than a specific response to this question, but I did feel like it was stuff that I needed to say. Creators are at the end of the day, just people. Sometimes we are powerless to reassure. Sometimes we are tired. Sometimes we are wrong. Sometimes we try things and they don't work. Sometimes we can't explain to you what our story is going to make you feel, because only reading it is going to tell you that. This may be one of those times.)

[whimsquirksandstuff]

hi! i was wondering if i could possibly ask you, the resident fandom expert, something (or several things, really), as i'm considering writing an essay on the topic. what makes sports anime, haikyuu and free in particular (as they are by far the most prevalent), so gay? why is it that fans don't seem to need to read very far into the source material to find "proof" to at least suggest that there is queercoding in the relationship, regardless of whether it was deliberate? why did fans latch on these characters and shows and relationships more than others? my working idea is that it might be the power of friendship stuff combined with the coming of age story, but i've been wondering why these fanon queer relationships feel like much less of a stretch in sports anime (and anime at large, although it is much more there in sports anime) as opposed to both other genres of anime and western media/other media?

sorry if this was poorly worded or a weird question!

This is a really good question!

The "power of friendship" & "coming of age" angles definitely play a role, I think. But what really grabs my attention when it comes to the characters in sports anime is how close they are with each other. Whether they're on the same team or opposing sides, they're always in each other's faces, thinking of one another, sometimes almost obsessively! Rivals, revered teammates, etc. There's a close proximity between characters both physically and mentally almost constantly, on the court or during slice of life adventures. Sports in general are touchy, whether it's slapping your bro on the shoulder or getting into his head with something like "why do you swim, my dude?" Channeling the "Free!" dub heavy here.

The sports genre really lends itself to offering settings/situations where character relationships are tested time and time again, and on top of all that they're competing with/against each other. And competitions can be, as you can imagine, pretty intense. Goodness knows how many internal monologues and brain game speeches we've seen from sports anime protags and side characters! So, high stress situations with high stakes (winning a race for instance) + close proximity (physically and mentally) = a pressure cooker environment that serves up tension, and is the perfect foundation for reading into relationships in the show on a deeper level. It's like an "only one bed" scenario but the floor is also lava. Fight! Talk! Kiss already, damn it!

And this tension is delicious because not only is it felt for the ships that come out of these shows, but individual characters too. There's so much introspection going on inside each character's mind (well, at least for the main cast, maybe not like nameless rando opponent #6). Their goals, motivations for playing the sport, backstories, etc make us root for them to win, or at the very least help us understand them and be gracious when they lose.

It's raw, and a breath of fresh air when characters with rich internal worlds interact, and when those worlds clash or combine in funky new ways, it feels like that scene in "Ratatouille" when Remy sees that symphony of flavors after combining ingredients. In a lot of other media, unfortunately we don't often get that same level of introspection/rich internal world exploration for both characters in a ship; it's usually just one, or it's half-assed for one or both of them.

And to finish this incredibly long answer off, much of the lessons learnt in sports anime can be applied to real life! The same goes for the relationships that bloom too. The relatability of every takeaway message from games won or lost, getting along with teammates, bonding with people who are so different from you and finding common ground, yadda yadda. It makes it easy to connect with the characters that much more, makes you become invested in the outcomes of games, and that gets you locked in to the dynamics between characters because it can affect the outcome of said games. Or vice versa, the outcomes of those games affect characters and thus the relationships they have with other characters. Everything is laid out in the open, on the court, right there. Hard not to pick up on even if you're not a shipper, you know?

This got wayyyy longer than anticipated lmao, but I hope it was useful! It's honestly just the tip of the iceberg cause if we talked about sports anime shipping in depth we'd be here all day :,)