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#the pictures were so small in the book
intermundia · 3 months
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i love the absolute commitment both hayden and ewan gave to the swordplay here, the desperation and effort visible on their faces as they move through such a long and quick choreography. they really sold the fight, it's entirely credible that they are both expert swordsmen and also intimately aware of each other's fighting style. they are fully in character, acting with their physicality, ewan turning obi-wan into a reluctant hunter, and hayden turning anakin into an apex predator lashing out with rage.
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like look at him... idk both of their performances mixed with the sophisticated special effects that situated them seamlessly into the hellish lava environment of mustafar, a context that mirrored back the eruptive agony of their conflict was all such a triumph. i think the intensity of the fight elevated the end of the film to a fever pitch of emotion, delivering a perfect climax for the prequel trilogy.
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Books of 2024: THE RAVEN TOWER by Ann Leckie.
I'm still in the Hamlet frame of mind after THE DEATH I GAVE HIM, so we're keeping that going! This one came highly recommended by a Trusted Friend (beloved). Apparently it does some Weird and Neat Shit with POV, which is also exactly up my alley.
Featuring my Pass the Honey cardigan moonlighting as a background!
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karaspal · 3 months
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man, kara's apartment used to be so bright and beautiful and full of life. it used to reflect her personality and interests. look.
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final crisis #3
and she used to have a bunch of other apartments all around the world. she'd decorate them to her liking and use them as secret bases. this one bellow is in paris.
kara didn't even have to put this much effort into them, yet she took the time to make them feel cozy.
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action comics #881
which brings us to kara's current home. it's so sad and empty. i just, i hate it.
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supergirl special #1
this apartment is so minimalistic. it feels cold. like no love was put into decorating it. like a phantom is living in it, with no real hobbies and interests. just existing. where are kara’s art supplies? in a way, it reflects the state of current!kara's personal life. we've barely seen her out of her costume. we've seen two panels of how her life is going. for us, her civilian life is stuck in a limbo. and this is perfectly reflected in the empty apartment she lives in.
but in kara's universe, her life is still going. she's going on dates, she has a job. she’s not just staring at the void any time supergirl is not needed. she has things to do. that comics was an opportunity to show us kara's personal life is still going strong. that her loft is well-lived in. that kara puts effort into making this small apartment her home. that kara puts effort into making earth her home. it's such a wasted opportunity. hopefully, one day, kara will get the warm apartment and civilian life she deserves.
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wonder-worker · 5 months
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J.L. Laynesmith taking the 'Buckingham Did It™' route for the murder of the Princes in the Tower AND the rumors of Edward IV's bastardy ... I have to laugh
#my post#history media#this was in her book 'Cecily Duchess of York' which I have ... Thoughts on#I really liked it overall - it was meticulously researched and gave me information that I hadn't previously known about Cecily#However this often contrasts with Laynesmith's own very evident biases assumptions and conjecture#and the effect is very jarring#This becomes slightly more pronounced after 1464 and actually ridiculous after 1483.#She also suggests that Henry VI may have genuinely died of a melancholy-induced stroke like Edward IV claimed which is just...lmfao#I don't know what to say at this point lol#To be fair she does specifically note that he died shortly after Edward arrived in London and that most contemporaries believed#it was far too convenient#which is far more acknowledgement and culpability than she gives Richard III whose culpability for the 'disappearance' of his nephews is#literally never touched upon - the blame is conveniently dumped on Buckingham#honestly the whole Deal with Buckingham is so odd. dude was a political neophyte; was given a primarily ceremonial role by Edward IV#throughout his reign and was younger than Richard (who was a seasoned politician). What makes you think Buckingham of all people#was some kind of political genius and making decisions over RICHARD of all people lol?#anyway#This book was pretty decent with Margaret of Anjou which was great#it was less decent with Elizabeth Woodville which was not so great :/#some of the assumptions it made (for Cecily's benefit naturally) were so weird#and the way she 'reassessed' Elizabeth's role in 1483 was very distasteful#I might make a separate post on that because it was very annoying#(also claiming Henry Tudor landed with 'a small band of Lancastrian exiles' - yeah no. the majority of the 'exiles' who supported him were#Yorkist aka Edward IV's supporters who opposed Richard. because this was very much an internal civil war between the dynasty#and Henry became a claimant only after being chosen by Yorkists after the October risings made clear the Princes were dead#the claim that challenged Richard's was Elizabeth of York not Henry's. let's not twist words here)#(ALSO I'm sorry but William Stanley certainly did not choose to commit his troops to Henry Tudor because Henry was 'his brother's stepson'#he did that out of loyalty to Edward IV and his children as Henry was the chosen claimant of the Yorkist faction#hence why he may have betrayed Henry VII in the 1490s for Perkin Warbeck who pretended to be Edward's second son. so jot that down)#you really see these small minor details which are very much chosen purposefully and paint a very different picture lol
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twilightarcade · 1 year
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Braceletz
#wordstag#took this picture in the bathroom. Ignore that.#also ignore how they're tied way too tight. Iris' was really messed up and idk what happened on evies I just didn't fix it#that green off grey is a warm color. For the purposes of this exercise#evies is a bit big iris' is a bit small. Nothing to really do about it. Iris' is also borderline falling apart#quite frankly I think I need to talk to someone who like. Isn't related to me. Unfortunately literally everyone is busy#euuuuuuuuuugh I'm reading a book#I picked it up because I needed a book#it's ok#I'm like... middle or so.#waiting for this Eddie guy to get accused of murdering Jacob because that seems to be like. This whole buildup#I've literally been waiting since the beginning of the book. They established it like right off the bat.#obviously we know he probably didn't but. Eh#there's some unrequited gay love I was NOT expecting whatsoever#literally why I picked up this book. I was told they were 4 friends so I expected 4 friends.#apparently 2 of the 4 are having sex in the background (Eddie and Jacob)#and every other chapter is abt their relationship in the past#which is. Fine. I'm fine w relationships n stuff just I didn't expect it yk#OH JESFYDY FUKC I JUST REREAD THE BLURB APPARENTULY IT WAS RIGJT THERE LMAO#I JUST??? SKIPPED OVER IT???? ITS RIGHT THERE THEYRE CLEARLY GOIGG TO BE A FOCUS#ESPECIALLY WITH HOW THEY INTRODICED THEM FIRSCY CHAPTER ???? HELLO??????????????? DID YOU READ THAT??????#anyways I don't support that guy any more (me) pretend he never said anything.
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yiifu · 1 year
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went to kinokuniya today in town to buy bungo stray dogs manga on a whim and came across this shelf stocked with the secret history aka probably my fav book ever and seeing the different editions was so exciting. the 30th anniversary hardcover has really great large text that's easier on the eyes and a nice golden book spine with silver embossed printed text. i really love the black version with the big white words - it feels so grand and just has that elegant feel to it ... i imagine carrying it around and reading it on public transport just to show it off lol. and then there is also the original first edition cover version below which is classic and very similar to the secondhand copy i already have. i love the dark purple back cover of this edition too!
also here's the bsd manga volumes i got
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i already bought a bunch of the other volumes online (the cheaper ones which are printed for the malaysia and singapore market) but i've always been curious about the american yen press versions so i had to get at least one version and what better version to get than the very first volume? the other one is from the dead apple manga adaptation series. i only got vol 3 (because of the chuuya cover art, duh) and also because i've exceeded my monthly budget for book buying rip T_T
but on my next trip to the bookstore maybe i'll get vol 1, 2 and 4 (once it comes out) because dead apple is really cool and i love the art style
the bookstore visit was so fun i don't go out to bookstores much anymore since starting full time work but today i got to look for all those books i read digitally or those on my tbr list and i flipped through the physical copy and admired the cover art 🥰 i was super happy
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mymblesbuir · 1 year
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accidentally put my phone in my pocket unlocked and almost posted this:
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barnabyboppins · 2 years
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So far I’ve commissioned or inquired about two of my friends, @loz-obsessed-person-i-guess, and I’ve bought like 9 posters, keychains or postcards from cool artists and poeple I’ve met and I want to keep this train going
My favourite part of all of these has been talking with every single person I’ve purchased from (online or in person) like bro it makes me really giddy
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inupibaldspot · 7 months
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Walk him like a dog
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader
Note ₊˚⊹♡ : The first year trio are watching Gojo who is completely head over heels for you.
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To the world, Gojo Satoru is the strongest but to the people who know him Gojo Satoru is a menace.
When he was in high school, he was a different breed. Yaga could not sleep at times from all the stress Gojo would cause; be it either an earful from the higher ups or checking the news only to find out there had been an explosion conveniently where Gojo’s mission was assigned.
Sometimes he would get pictured sent to him by the problem student himself, a picture with a beaten up enemy and Gojo winking at the camera with a note saying ‘Yay~ another victory! I mean it’s as normal as breathing for me (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.゚’
Even when Yaga would use his authority and lecture him, sometimes Gojo Satoru would not listen; be it simply ignoring or rebutting it with his opinion— an opinion no one asks for.
And when that happens, Yaga would pull out his secret weapon ‘You’! He didn’t use this card all the time but at time Gojo was simply so uncooperative, he had to! Any word coming from you would be listened to by him as if it were law. Right now, at the age of 28 he seemed to have matured- no stopped acting as childish and Yaga didn’t have to rely on you so often.
That same Yaga watches from the window at his new first years— Kugisaki Nobara, Itadori Yuji and Fushiguro Megumi— behind a bush, hiding peeking over to you and Gojo who were on a bench.
“Ah…” Kugisaki sweat dropped at the pair. “Gojo-sensei is so smitten.” She said observing at how you were simply reading a book, as Gojo yaps away but one thing very obvious was the gentle look he gave you.
When you finally looked Gojo’s way, their white haired teacher suddenly stops, they notice a faint blush peeping under his blindfolds and when he does starts talking he stammers. THE Gojo Satoru was stammering, biting his tongue simply because you were looking at him.
“Kugisaki, let’s leave.” Itadori covers his eyes, his right eye peeps through the cracks of his fingers. “Sensei is doing such a bad job at flirting with y/n, I’m getting embarrassed.”
Kugisaki lifts her hands and grabs the collar of Itadori’s and starts shaking it. “This is the closest we’re getting to romance in this school and I want to be the witness.” She grits her teeth.
Just then Nanami walks along the path, making the pair look over. You smile as you call out. “Nanami-kun.”
Nanami stops and waits as you stand from your bench, walking over to greet him. The students stare; as soon as you got off the bench and walks Gojo follows suit not even a millisecond later.
Kugisaki cringes. “He is like a puppy…”
They could vaguely hear Gojo start to make fun of Nanami, but when you think his ‘joke’ was a slight bit too harsh; they watch you give Gojo a side eye and almost immediately their teacher shuts up.
‘y/n has the strongest sorcerer at the palm of their hands .’ Kugisaki and Itadori collectively thought.
Before Kugisaki could comment she senses a small wet feeling on her forehead, then another and then she was drowning in it. Suddenly it started raining.
“Geh. Let’s get out of here.” Kugisaki says as she quickly brought her hands up to cover her bangs. “I don’t want my hair to frizz up.”
Itadori and Fushiguro follows her lead as they walk away to the nearby building and when they did reach shelter, Kugisaki quickly turns around to check on their teacher and you, a fellow sorcerer.
Her mouth drops slightly taking in the situation at hand, Nanami was no where in sight. She assumes he left because of the rain too.
But that wasn’t the focus.
Her eyes were focused on Gojo and you, holding hands smiling fondly at each other, she also noted that he was using ‘Infinity’ to not get wet from the rain.
Gojo laughs as he raises one of your hands high which makes you let out laugh, but complies as you proceed to twirl. As soon as you make two twirls, their teacher places his hands on your face as his leans down, his lips on yours.
Kugisaki and Itadori squeal and blushes at the intimate scene infront of them, jumping. “Sensei, finally did it! He kissed y/n—!” Itadori smiles.
They watch you smile into the kiss and you bring your hands up behind his neck, slowly trailing them into his hair, deepening the kiss.
“I’m so happy,Kugisaki.” Itadori wipes his tears with the back of his hands, extremely happy for his teacher’s happiness and success in his love life.
“I don’t know why you guys are making such a fuss.” Fushiguro finally decides to add into the antics of his classmates.
“Huh?” Kugisaki quickly turns and glares at the dark haired man. ”Is your heart made of stone or something,Fushiguro?”
“Yeah! I heard Gojo-sensei basically raised you.” Itadori chirps in. “You should be more happy for him.”
Kugisaki nods in agreement.
“I mean…” Fushiguro sighs as his hands are up massaging his temple, mentally preparing for the outburst to come.
“They’re married…”
“Ehhhhh???”
Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? out other here
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seumyo · 2 months
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BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 5:48
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Bakugou’s in his third year of high school when he finally invites you over to his house. The reason? To finish a calculus project.
You’d think that after surviving through the hardships of being a hero-in-training together for three years, saving each other’s lives (more often you were the one being saved than doing the saving, really), and whatnot, he would’ve invited you sooner to his home (one could dream).
But this was Bakugou, after all.
And he knew that something was off the moment he left you to share a conversation with his mom while he went to get his books from his room—the greatest mistake he could have ever done because by the time he’s making his way back, Bakugou could hear you snickering to yourself.
Not a good sign.
“I’m not going to lie; you looked hideous when you were a baby,” you say, reading through Bakugou’s baby album.
Bakugou froze. He had absolutely no idea why his mother would cave in and give you the godforsaken album from when he was young, but of course she would’ve agreed with your request to see it if you did so much as mention it.
He dropped the books he’d grabbed from on top of his desk on top of the living room table before whipping his attention towards you, an indignant scoff escaping through his nose before he took a few slow, but heavy stomps over to you—practically snatching the album from your grasp when he’s within reach.
“Stop looking through those stupid pictures.”
“Hey! I wasn’t finished,” you reply with a frown. “You’re lucky my phone’s battery just died, or else I would’ve taken a billion photos.”
Bakugou’s jaw clenched slightly as he grumbled curses under his breath, trying to flip through the album in his hands to make sure you hadn’t managed to sneak a photo out—a small sigh of relief rolling off of his tongue to find that, luckily, it was still how his parents had done it.
He shot a glare over towards you, stuffing the album back into its original spot on one of the bookshelves, his nose crinkling as he shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Don’t care; tell anyone what you saw, and you’ll drop dead,” he tells you.
“Oh, but how could I not? That photo album’s like hitting the jackpot—so many super ultra rare photocards of you,” you gushed, blatantly disregarding his usual threat. “Come on, I wanna see the rest!”
“Absolutely not.” 
Bakugou knew the damn photos were in the back of the album. There were probably a handful of the ones where he was in the bathtub, butt-naked—a common photo in most photo albums he’s seen, at least. Other photos include when he was three years old and wore an All Might onesie for his birthday, pictures of him during his school recital where he was the prince, him with a bald haircut, and so much more blackmail material. 
It was humiliating, for goodness sake! And he knew you’d just tease him mercilessly if you saw it.
You’ll never let him live it down, so it’s best to deprive you of it.
“Don’t come at me for saying this, but I was the cutest baby in our village back then,” you told him proudly. “Had the roundest cheeks and brightest smile, trust.”
Bakugou rolled his eyes, a huff of air forcing itself past his lips. That was one thing about you that he couldn’t stand; you were so full of yourself most of the time—you’d always been like that, and he absolutely loathed it. It could be that it reminds him of himself, so the competitive meter on his head just flares whenever he’s around you.
“I doubt you were even 1% of how adorable I was as a baby.”
“Have you seen me?” you gestured to your face with your hands to emphasize your facial features. 
“I’m still as cute even now. And no offense, Bakugou,” you giggled, “you looked like a wrinkly raisin on your first few days on this Earth.”
Bakugou’s smirk dropped. He’d almost forgotten that you had seen the stupid pictures already.
“Shut the hell up. It wasn’t that bad.” He muttered quietly, his hands balling into frustrated fists. His parents always assured him that he was a cute kid when he was small—but to hear that YOU of all people, are in disagreement with that is just aggravating.
“Fine, fine. Quits it is,” you hum. “Let’s do that calculus project so I can get home before sunset.”
Bakugou grumbled something inaudible under his breath, reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. There was no point in arguing about something so idiotic—after all, both of you were there to get a project done, not to sit around and bicker about his past.
He took a few steps over to the living room table before plopping down on the polished floor ungracefully, yanking out his notes before he gestured his hand over towards the free space next to him.
“Sit down. Let’s just get this thing done and over with already.”
Bakugou had already started working silently by the time you sat down; his hand was writing almost furiously as he copied equations onto his paper. He kept his attention focused on his notes, trying to stay quiet as he focused completely on completing the project.
He eventually stopped writing for a moment, turning his gaze over to glance at what you were doing before clicking his tongue at the sight. Bakugou could already see a few mistakes you’d made with your work.
“You’re doing it wrong,” he says.
“Wait, I’ve barely turned on the calculator, jeez.” You shook your head, solving the equation through your calculator.
“And that’s how I know you’re doing it wrong.” Bakugou huffed, shaking his own head in disappointment. 
“Formula first before adding 1.3.”
He pulled out a pen and began scribbling down on his own paper, glancing at yours every once in a while to compare the work. He knew from his experience that you were decent at math (he’d rather die than tell you that), but this was just pitiful even by your standards.
“Have you been dozing off during Ectoplasm’s class?”
“Ouch. Do you have a personal grudge against keeping the not-so-nice stuff from leaving your mouth?” you sigh. “You’re hurting my feelings— I’m devastated.”
He had a feeling you’d say something like that, and he was prepared to ignore your attempts at gaining sympathy from him.
“Unfortunately, you’ll fucking live,” Bakugou says, scribbling down the last of his work before turning it towards you. “And learn how to solve equations too, while you’re at it.”
“I know how to do it; calm down.” You huff, rewriting your solutions.
Bakugou raised a skeptical eyebrow, his head tilting with a hint of disbelief. Even if he knew you were capable of doing math, you had a bad habit of missing even the smallest details, like the operation to be used in your work, leading to the wrong answers.
His eyes scanned over the work you’d written on your paper before letting out a small huff. “Looks right. Are you done with your half?”
“Yep, yep. Are you going to write it down on our answer sheet, or should I do it?” you offered.
Bakugou glanced down at the answer sheet set to the side before picking it up and nodding. He was already holding a pen while you were still using a pencil, so it would make more sense for him to be the one to write it all down.
He began copying down the answers slowly and carefully, each number being written out with ease as his eyes flicked back and forth from the worksheet to the sheet of answers.
With him busy jotting down the answers, you occupied yourself with taking in the interior of his living room. It was beautiful, neat, and just screamed rich—not really what you expected (you really didn’t know what to expect, honestly). “Y’know,” you mention, glancing around. “You have a nice house.”
Bakugou hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes remaining focused on his task. It kind of took him by surprise to hear you say something out of the blue—about his house, no less. He’d fully expected you to talk about something else, like school or that new show you’ve been begging him to watch.
It went against what Bakugou had originally thought, which led him to look over at you from the corner of his eye, silently raising an eyebrow in a silent question.
“Yeah, I guess it’s a nice house,” he said casually, his pen continuing to move over the paper. His penmanship was neat, and Bakugou hears you in awe. 
Bakugou continued to finish writing down the last of the answers, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed you looking around his house. It was obvious what was happening, but he decided to ignore it in favor of just getting the godforsaken project done.
He finished soon enough, his pen rolling back with a click before he leaned back a little and let out a small huff. “We’re done. Finally.”
“Nice, nice.” Glancing at your watch, you concluded, “I should get home.”
Bakugou was silent, rolling his shoulders and neck before glancing out of the nearby window. The sun had already begun to set over the sky, the day quickly slipping away into the night.
“Yeah, whatever. You need me to walk you home or something?” He asks gruffly.
“Nah, I’m good. I need to say goodbye to your parents, too.”
Bakugou watched as you packed up all of your belongings, a scoff rolling off of his tongue. It felt almost weird to be civil with each other, neither of you having taken jabs or making snarky remarks to taunt one another. 
“Alright, fine,” he finally said, standing up from his seat and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go find my parents then.”
He led you down the hall and into the kitchen area, his ears vaguely picking up the sounds of his mother and father talking amongst themselves about… something. He couldn’t tell what exactly, and frankly, he barely even cared.
“Mom, Dad.” He spoke up, capturing the attention of his parents. 
Mitsuki looked over at him, a smile spreading across her face. Masaru looked in the same direction, a warm smile forming on his face as well.
“Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou,” you said in gratitude. “I’ll be going home now before it gets too late.”
His parents shared a hum in acknowledgment, with his mother being the one to speak up first. She had a knowing grin on her face as she clasped her hands together, her eyes flickering over to her son.
“You’re welcome. You should come over more often,” Mitsuki said enthusiastically, her voice taking on a slightly smug tone.
Masaru laughed as he nodded in agreement. He gave a knowing look to his wife before he looked back over at you. “You should join us for dinner; we already made enough for you to join us.”
“I’d love to, sir, but my folks are waiting for me at home,” you answered sheepishly.
Bakugou noticed the glance his parents exchanged and immediately knew what they were thinking. He almost grumbled in frustration, already knowing that they’d ask him about you later after you left.
His mother spoke up once again, her smug grin growing wider. “You’re always welcome here,” she repeated, her eyes flickering over to her son as her voice came out teasing. “After all, Katsuki’s always in a ‘better’ mood when you’re around.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it, ma'am. I’m a joy to be around, after all,” you lightly joked, though you still maintained a respectful tone.
His parents were easier to get along with than you thought.
Bakugou’s eye twitched in annoyance at your words, almost making him want to quip back at your cocky behavior. However, it was the sound of his mother’s sudden laughter that stopped him from doing so.
Mitsuki mother put her hand up to her mouth briefly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she continued to chuckle. The expression on her face was elated, and it was pissing him off even more, knowing what’s to come. 
“I like this one,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.
Masaru added, “And clearly, so does Ka—“
“All right! They need to get going to catch the shitty train.”
By the time Bakugou accompanied you to the door, he had this obvious scowl on his face. “You’re never comin’ back here again, dipshit.”
“Wha— no fair! Why am I getting banned from the Bakugou residence when this is my first time here?” you replied.
“Shut up,” he grunts. “I could do whatever the hell I want because it’s my house, too.”
“Too bad I have your Mom’s number—“
“Delete that.”
“Hey— wai— no way!”
It was not the last time you were ever invited to the Bakugou residence.
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SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.
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malfoys-demigod · 2 months
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hii! it’s iluvloganhowlett i’m just on my other acc! could you do a logan fluff where logan has a soft spot for u and lit only u? like for a prompt, scott asks a question and logan answers with some “it’s none of your business” or is j flat out mean where as when you ask the same question minutes later he’s nicer and thorough with his answer.
and can u please make it logan x mutant!reader🥰🥰
Logan Howlett, underrated softie
☆⋆。𖦹°‧★ Logan Howlett x Reader
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A/N: Hi @iluvloganhowlett!! I really appreciate your request and here it is! Enjoy, dear!!
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
Winters in upstate New York were exceptionally known for their extreme coldness.
Which of course was no shock that a particular mansion at Westchester County was at -3 degrees celcius, almost reaching at 4 in your keen opinion.
Just being inside made you want to wear a thick full body coat today, wrapped with your favorite scarf and gloves. But you felt silly about that idea, seeing how everyone else was just casually surviving the day with good long sleeved tops. How lucky of them.
Though it was only 8pm, you had the senseless idea of wrapping yourself in your blanket, trying to fall asleep in your bedroom, desparately hoping to sleep through the coldest day of the week.
After a few tosses and turns, feeling the icy breeze sneak into your body, you just knew there was no hope in dozing off. Not with this kind of weather!
You groaned in defeat, sitting up to curse to yourself why you had to feel so, so, so frigid of all days today.
Maybe some instant hot chocolate by the kitchen would help you soothe yourself into sleeping soon.
So you got up, wore an oversized sweater over your thick long sleeved top, placed on your fuzzy slippers, and made your way out of your room to the kitchen.
There were still students around the mansion, either reading books with each other, watching the television by the living room, or playing some board games while having hot beverages and snacks. Hmmm, the smell of hot chocolate from some of them just made you realize that hot chocolate is always a good idea.
Meanwhile over at the kitchen, just a few minutes before you had arrived, Storm was in one of the seats in front of the counter, having her decaffinated coffee, mixing some sugar and some milk with it. Yup, she was one of those who enjoyed the taste of cofffe, even at night, so she has it decaffinated so it won't affect her sleep later.
Scott grabbed a bowl and a box of Lucky Charms cereal from the cupboards and made his way to the fridge, which was being leaned on by Logan, who was having a round of beer.
Scott stood in front of Logan with a serious look on his face, expecting Logan to move. But Logan, who wanted to mess with the man, just stared back at him, flashing a mischievous look. "You should take a picture, it'll last longer."
"Move, asshole," Scott sneered, "I need milk."
Logan continued drinking from his beer, still eyeing scott with the same mischievous look on his face, ignoring his command.
"Oh, Scott, I still have some!" Storm interrupted, saving Scott from possibly wanting to strike Logan, based on his tight grip on his bowl, and now slightly wrinked cereal box.
"Dick," Scott muttered under his breath, moving through Logan, who felt like he won another round of Logan v Scott. That small win was now done being celebrated when you finally arrived into the kitchen.
"Hey guys," you greeted your colleagues, getting some 'heys' from Storm and a slightly disgruntled Scott.
"Hey, doll," Logan recited gently, earning a dear smile from you. He watched you look around the cupboards, noticing your mystified expression as you wandered around each cupboard and cabinets.
You then moved to the fridge, "Sorry, could I just check something inside?" you asked Logan softly with your fingers skimming over each other.
Scott looked up from his meal, watching Logan expose a smile on his mouth, gently moving aside as you opened the fridge, watching you hmph in disappointment.
Scott made his own quiet hmph to himself, seeing Logan's patience with you, to which Storm smiled coyly seeing sparks fly around the tough Wolverine.
"Didn't find what you were looking for, darl?"
"Yeah, I think the kids got the last instant hot chocolate powders for themselves," you frowned lightly in disappointment. "It's okay though," admitting in defeat. You were starting to make your way out, looking at the doorframe, "I think I'll just-"
"Hold on there, bub," Logan's instruction brought you to a halt. You turned around to see a now quiet Logan, whose eyes were looking into, what he thought, were puppy eyes. "Instant powders are for kids," he continued, his eyes quickly scanning around the room as if he was about to make use of the information around him.
"How about I make you some real hot chocolate, huh?"
While Scott and Storm turned to each other, exchanging unsure looks, you let out a small laugh in disbelief, which determined Logan to actually pull it off.
"You?"
You didn't want to sound mean about it, I mean, anyone can make hot chocolate. It wasn't rocket science, or some gourmet dish, but never in your wildest dreams did you think that Logan Howlett, the man who only went to the kitchen to bring out his secret stash of beer, would make you hot chocolate?
But the way you asked didn't matter to Logan, as he got whole milk, chocolate, whipped cream, and heavy cream from the fridge, walked to another counter for powdered sugar, and expresso powder, which he directly got a teaspoon of from Storm's side to which she didn't say anything about, since she herself, was inclined to watch Logan act as if he was someone else she didn't know.
Logan was now whisking together his ingredients in a saucepan that you helped get.
"How long should these be over the heat?" you tip-toed, wanting to see over Logan's shoulder's as he was perfectly centered in front of the saucepan.
"Till you see small bubbles appear around the edges," he replied, looking over at you tip-toe, which he wanted to melt at just seeing.
He then stirred in chopped chocolate, waiting for it to melt, and carefully placing the sauce to low heat, stating to you that 'it's needed for the chocolate to melt completely.'
His little moment of domestic fluff with you and him in the kitchen was put to a pause when a voice from somewhere behind him got his unfortunate attention.
"Since when did you have time to learn all this?," Scott teased, receiving a nudge from the elbow from Storm who shook her head.
"Shut the hell up, prick," Logan said, not even facing a smirking Scott.
Logan then served the drinks in two mugs for him and for you, of course topping them with lots of whipped cream. More than excited to try Logan's hot chocolate, you immediately took a careful sip, tasting the intense, rich, and absolute heaven which had to be the most decadent hot chocolate ever.
"Oh my god," you said, closing your eyes with satisfaction, "It feels like I'm in one of those Parisian cafes, drinking the best hot chocolate there."
It was as if every sip made you forget about how cold and freezing you were just earlier, and seeing you look so content with the drink made Logan want to beam, but of course realized Scott and Storm were, annoyingly still around.
"Glad you like it, Y/N," he thanked, seeing you turn to face him with a curious look on your face.
"I do want to ask..." you hung back the question, "When did you have time to learn how to perfect this? I know you didn't just learn this overnight."
It was a genuine question because despite living since the 1800s or so, it was not exactly like Logan had free time to cook around or whip up hot chocolate, right? This man went through a lot in his life, and would he really just use his spare time investing in something like.. hot chocolate?
Logan looked down, with a humble and small smile on his face.
"My mother..," he first started, "When I was young and while my dad was out, she would make hot chocolate on cold days, or even any day for that matter."
There was so much value you had, appreciating the little yet deeply personal story behind your now, favorite drink. You knew Logan was never an open book with anyone. It was more of a shut and locked up book with the key below the bottom of the ocean for no one to pick up.
But the way he had just been with you tonight so far, was like, he was giving you the key for you, and literally you only.
"So you rememberd her exact recipe?" you inquired more, with a sparkle that Logan saw in your eyes.
"Nah, not exactly," he said, slightly timid with a grin, " 'course I adapted to today's ingredients like instant whipped cream, but it's something like what she made before."
"Do you think you could make some for me again tomorrow?" You genuinely requested, which made Logan more or less, want to fold and do as you say in a heartbeat.
But of course, he wanted to slightly play it cool. "Don't see why not," nodding in agreement.
"Good, I'm gonna bring this with me back to my room now," you announced, "Thanks so much, Logan, good night!"
You then smiled at Scott and Storm, waving them goodbye as you walked away from them, leaving them to smirk like children at Logan.
"That was cute." Storm said, bringing Logan back to his usual, serious look.
"I'd love to try some tomorrow too, Logan," Scott tried to fake his genuine statement at the same time trying not to burst a laughter out of him.
Without any words this time, Logan, holding his mug of hot chocolate in hand, passed Scott with one claw out from his other hand, slicing his cereal box in half.
"Asshole!" Scott yelled, now trying to pick up the pieces of cereal as Logan walked out of the kitchen took a sip from his mug, indulding in the fact that,
A. he made another successful hot chocolate in his life
B. he gets to make it again for you tomorrow
C. he hopes to make it for you for as long as winter's still there.
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bpmiranda · 26 days
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Request: This is my first request ever btw!! Would you be able to write logan is your dad’s friend and and the reader is teasing him and trying to distract him. (Age gap n dom logan 🙈). I hope this made sense
Spoiled Rotten (Logan Howlett) nsfw
A/N: age gap, 18+ f!reader, dom!logan, rough sex, brat!reader, light bondage?, kind of mean!logan
It was easy for her to make out Logan’s voice downstairs in the kitchen, joking around with her dad. A smile curled on her lips as she closed the book she had been reading and gave herself a once over in the full body mirror that hung behind her door. Her feet quickly and lightly hurried down the staircase and she popped into the kitchen with a smile.
“Hi Logan!” She greeted cheerfully and he smiled at her. “Heard you from upstairs.” She had walked over to where he was leaning against the kitchen table sipping a beer and gave him a hug, pressing her chest into his side and rubbing his back lightly with her hand.
“Hey, sweet girl,” Logan chuckled, squeezing her arm and then letting her go. “How was your first college semester?” He asked.
“It was fun. Some friends and I went to the beach for the weekend. Wanna see some pictures?”
Her dad cleared his throat and she looked at him, almost forgetting he was standing in the kitchen too. “Hold on, dear, Logan and I are having a conversation.”
“Oh, sorry.” She excused herself and sat on the counter behind her dad so she was still facing Logan and she bit her lip as she watched him nod and focus on her father, which irritated her in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
As they made plans on how to go about tearing out the old deck and putting in a new one, Y/N grew tired of waiting and she unlocked her phone and scrolled through her gallery until she found the pictures she wanted to show him. The first was a mirror picture of her in a bikini and she turned the screen towards him. Logan’s eyes caught the light of her phone and they went wide at the image she was showing him. Her teeth bit down on her bottom lip as he took a deep breath and refocused on her dad.
The second picture was of her in the beach hotel bathroom, topless and leaning onto the sink so her breasts were pressed together and she turned it to him with a wink. Logan repositioned his stance, clearly growing uncomfortable and annoyed as she continued to be a distraction.
The final picture was the final straw, and she knew it. While she knew it was her longest and closest girl friend that had helped her take the picture, Logan did not. The last picture she showed him behind her father’s back was taken from the foot the hotel bed where she was lying naked on her back, hands shyly covering her face so her breasts were once again pressed together and her knees were brought up slightly to her chest, ankles crossed just barely hiding her exposed cunt. Logan’s jaw tightened as did his grip on the beer bottle and it suddenly shattered in his hand.
Y/N gasped, quickly locking her phone and hopping off the counter to grab some paper towels while her dad exclaimed in surprise. “Woah, you alright, pal?” He asked Logan who nodded, shaking his hand off, and giving her a small nod as she handed him the paper towels to quickly dab at the blood.
“I’ll grab the first aid kit.” She announced before hurrying up the stairs and to her bedroom, having no intentions of getting the kit since she knew Logan didn’t need it. Instead she hid in her bedroom, chewing nervously on her lip as she heard the two mens’ voices downstairs. Fuck, she thought to herself, knowing she had probably pushed it too far.
It wasn’t long before Logan’s heavy feet stomped up the stairs and she trembled as he barged into her bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him. “What the hell was that?” He demanded, undoing his belt as he stared down at her sitting criss-cross in her bed.
“It wasn’t my intention, Logan. I swear, I was just playing around.” She apologized, hiding her hands between her legs as he was looping the leather belt together.
“Couldn’t wait two damn minutes for me to finish up with your dad?” He asked, holding onto the belt and rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. “Turn around.”
“Logan,” She began to protest, pouting while he only looked at her with flaring nostrils and a shaking head. “What about my dad?” She asked nervously.
Logan grew impatient and he pulled her off the bed harshly, spinning her around, and pushing her back down onto her mattress. “He ran to the store, so you’d better do as your told unless you want him to find me up here.”
Her hands were tied with the belt behind her back and she felt a hard smack land on her ass that made her cry out though she grew wet from the sting. “Logan, I’m sorry, please be gentle.” She begged, shaking as he tugged her shorts off to reveal she wasn’t wearing any panties. He never was gentle when she upset him, and that was something she knew going into this.
“Should’ve thought about that earlier, sweetheart.” Logan muttered as he straddled her ass and she suddenly felt his swollen tip push into her tight cunt. “Next time you’ll think twice before you pull a stunt like that again.” His thrusts were immediately hard and deep, her eyes watered as he barely waited for her arousal to properly lubricate his dick. His grip was tight on the belt that held her wrists together and he lifted her onto her knees while keeping her head shoved into the mattress. “Fuck!” Logan grunted as she was much too tight for him, much too young to handle what he gave her, but he always made it fit.
“Ah! Logan, it hurts!” She cried, her hands fisted into tight balls as all she could do was take his incessant pounding, driving her deeper and deeper into her bed until she was slobbering and crying from the girth of him stretching her out so roughly and quickly. “Logan!”
“Quiet down before you get us caught.” He snarled into her ear, rutting into her so deeply she felt him against her cervix and she sobbed at the feeling of her intense orgasm crumbling her down to nothing but a blubbering mess. “Who the fuck took that picture of you?” He demanded, tugging on the belt with one hand and holding onto her throat with the other. “Probably some asswipe that won’t know how to handle you.” He said through grunts as he smacked his hips harshly against her ass while he fucked her right through her orgasm. “You’re gonna turn into a spoiled brat messing around with boys too soft to put you in your place.”
“It wasn’t a boy,” She moaned softly, the feeling of his cock throbbing inside her made her want more, another orgasm, a harder one. “It was a man.” She lied, and she bit her lip, grinning as he used both hands to hold her down so he could jackhammer his thick cock into her tiny, abused hole. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Fuck, Logan!” She screamed, her body shook violently with another release and he growled as he pumped her full of his load.
The sounds coming from her drenched and flooded pussy made her shudder and Logan gently kissed her shoulder and her neck, still pulsing inside her as she squeezed and milked his cock with her tight walls. “Who took the picture?” He asked again.
“My girl friend,” She sighed breathlessly. “I only want you, Lo.” She murmured, exhausted and aching everywhere as he pulled out of her with a squelching sound. “Just you.”
“That’s my sweet girl.” He praised, untying her hands and helping her clean up before leaving her to rest in her bedroom while he headed back downstairs before her dad returned. Logan knew she was already spoiled, and perhaps that was his own doing.
🫣
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kandlewick · 19 days
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everyone awoke to malleus defeated. except for you meant to be read as platonic malleyuu but can be read as romantic.
Malleus could hardly breathe. every inhale felt like it was too small, like the air surrounding him was too thin. His lungs were empty, barren, and dry. And then he would exhale. a shaky breath. It rattled his bones and burned in his chest. As if nothing but flames raged in his insides. Before him laid a friend, a betrayed comrade, someone who put too much trust in the wrong people. You. You were asleep there, in a bed of thorns and roses, nestled deep and safe. Each petal cradled your cheek like a picture frame and you were a work of art. It all felt so clinical, so far away that Malleus could hardly tear his eyes away from your sleeping form. while constricted by vines to your familiar bed in ramshackle, no thorns pierced your skin. you knew no pain lying there. only dreams. It hardly felt real.
Malleus had made a mistake. He knew he had as soon as the blot began pouring from behind his tongue. but he couldn't stop it. the delirium. it poured out of him like a cracked glass of sand. In those fleeting moments, nothing had mattered more to him. The blot retched every single negative emotion out of his soul, bearing it for the world to bear witness to. And he was ashamed.
but you and the others had succeeded against him, saving all of your classmates and himself from the curse of eternal slumber. One by one, they all began awakening. Eyelids fluttering in the new morning sun. He awoke to the sound of laughter and cheers while he laid there on the broken floor, alone and empty and so so cold. Quietly, Malleus raised his head to thank? Curse? The Ramshackle prefect that laid beside him.
only, you remained there. asleep. too far gone and too far deep for anyone to reach out to. it was like your soul and body were separated, torn asunder. the only sign of life was your chest moving up and down from the breath that filled your lungs. At the moment, Malleus thought perhaps you were simply exhausted, with the heavy bags under your eyes and the pale complexion dusting your cheeks. Like the others, he thought that you only needed more rest. But days passed and there were still no signs of life behind those closed eyes. The teachers talked amongst themselves, unwilling or perhaps unable to offer any sort of explanation. There were talks about asking for assistance from other bodies but they were quick to be shot down. It seemed like nobody knew what to do with you. Or… your body. 
Nobody took it well.
Malleus in particular had ceased his studies, locking himself away in your room in Ramshackle. Ace and Deuce would appear on occasion, Grim in tow, but the three were quick to make themselves scarce once Malleus made it clear he was not leaving your bedside. He sat there for hours, uncaring of the passing of time as night became morning and dawn became dusk. What were mere days to a nigh immortal fae. If this was his curse, to watch the one human who befriended him and suffered for it waste away from his own folly, then so be it. Every morning, like clockwork, he sat there. Unflinching. Unmoving. Like a gargoyle. His eyes were empty and red, long dried from tears but he couldn’t drag himself away from you - he refused to even think of calling you a corpse. 
This day was like any other. He sat there beside you, his hands in his lap, the book he had foolishly planned to humor to read had been cast aside long forgotten, but for some reason the sight of you there pricked at his heart more than before. His voice came out quiet, weak from disuse, but he made an effort all the same. 
“My child of man.” he croaked, his tone heavy with shame and sadness, “I will not ask you for forgiveness.”
He took a shaky breath. Hesitantly, he reached out with a weak hand and clasped your own. The thorns around you pricked him and drew blood, but he paid no mind to it. He felt nothing. Numb. Malleus choked back tears as he pulled your hands close to his chest and against his still beating heart. He lowered his head in agony as he confessed like a convict at death’s door. “What I have done to you is unforgivable.”
He held you to him. Like if he held onto you tight enough, you wouldn’t fall even more to pieces. “You were my first true friend, my closest companion. The only one who treated me as if I was an equal…” He bit back a sob as he tried to cradle his face between his hands, desperate for your touch to once again warm his bones. But there was nothing. Only the cold. “And now I’ve lost you.”
“And not a day shall pass in the centuries that I am cursed to live will I ever forget your smile.” Then with an almost reverent touch, the prince brought your hand to his lips and pressed a delicate kiss to the back of your hand. His lips stayed there, the taste of salt and skin filling his tongue, but he made no effort to move while he cried.
So far gone was he that he never noticed the batting of eyelashes, the furrowed brows, or the intake of breath. So far gone that it wasn’t until he felt your hand, tiny and weak, press against his dark hair, did he lift his head.
“Good morning, Hornton.”
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inkskinned · 4 months
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hello. you left a neon pink post-it with pgs 194-359 due 9/12 in the book, by the way. it is now May 23rd and the library's printer is running out of ink. it jammed and tore my passport application. one of the librarians dutifully blacked out all my information (front and back!) before proceeding to use every unmarred inch as scrap paper.
i think maybe our (plural, inclusive) lives are connected. all of them. i have been thinking a lot about borrowing. about how people move through the world in waves, filling in the same spaces. i have probably stood on the same subway platform as you. we held the same book. all of us stand in the same line at the grocery, at the gas station. how many feet have stood washing dishes in my kitchen?
i hope you are doing well. the pen you used was a nice red, maybe a glitter pen? you have loopy, curling handwriting. i sometimes wonder if it is true that you can tell a personality by the shape of our letters. i'm borrowing my brother's car. he's got scrangly engineer handwriting (you know the one). it's a yellow-orange ford mustang boss. when i got out of the building, some kids were posing with it for a selfie. i felt a little bird grow in me and had to pause and pretend to be busy with my phone to give them more time for their laughing.
i have a habit of asking people what's the last good book you read? the librarian's handwriting on the back of my smeared-and-chewed passport application says the glass house in small undercase. i usually go for fantasy/sci fi, but she was glowing when she suggested it. i found your post-it on page 26, so i really hope you didn't have to read up to 359 in that particular book. i hope you're like me and just have a weird "random piece of trash" "bookmark" that somehow makes it through like, 58 books.
i wish the concept of soul mates was bigger. i wish it was about how my soul and your soul are reading the same work. how i actually put down that book at the same time you did - page 26 was like, all exposition. i wish we were soul mates with every person on the same train. how magical to exist and borrow the same space together. i like the idea that somewhere, someone is using the shirts i donated. i like the idea that every time i see a nice view and say oh gosh look at the view, you (plural, inclusive) said that too.
the kids hollered when i beeped the car. oh dude you set off the alarm, oh shit is she - dude that's her car!! one was extremely polite. "i like your car, Miss. i'm sorry we touched it." i said i wasn't busy, finish up the pictures. i folded your post-it into a paper crane while i waited. i thought about how my brother's a kind person but his handwriting looks angry. i thought about how for an entire year i drove someone to work every day - and i didn't even think to ask for gas money. my handwriting is straight capital letters.
i thought about how i can make a paper crane because i was taught by someone who was taught by someone else.
the kids asked me to rev the engine and you know i did. the way they reacted? you would have thought i brought the sun from the sky and poured it into a waterglass. i went home smiling about it. i later gave your post it-turned-bird to a tiny child on the bus. she put it in her mouth immediately.
how easy, standing in your shadow, casting my own. how our hands pass over each other in the same minor folds. i wonder how many of the same books you and i have read. i wonder how many people have the same favorite six songs or have been in the same restaurant or have attended the same movie premier. the other day i mentioned the Book Mill from a small town in western massachusetts - a lot of people knew of it. i wonder if i've ever passed you - and didn't even notice it.
i hope whatever i leave behind makes you happy. i hope my hands only leave gentle prints. i hope you and i get the same feeling when the sun comes out. soulmates across all of it.
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euthymiya · 2 months
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sharks and cameras — ft. ryomen sukuna
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you leave yuuji under sukuna’s supervision for the day. something tells you that your boyfriend is a far more doting uncle than he likes to let on
before you read: fem reader ; non curse au/modern au ; established relationship ; uncle sukuna and baby nephew yuuji ; aquarium visits with yuuji and sukuna aka the most troublesome (and adorable) duo
notes: more uncle kuna here! ; this is dedicated to the nonnie with the proud uncle kuna ask (i accidentally deleted the ask im so sorry </3)
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“Uncle Kuna took me to see the sharks today,” Yuuji tells you excitedly across the dinner table. You look over at Sukuna, watching as he takes a sip of his water and rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, the brat wouldn’t quit begging. Annoying little shit,” he grumbles.
“Sukuna,” you scold sharply, sending him a glare as he scoffs, “no cursing in front of children. Or at the table.”
“He doesn’t even understand—” your narrowed eyes make him pause. He contemplates for a moment before conceding, grumbling under his breath before he clicks his teeth and looks off to the side. “Kay, whatever.”
“What else did you see, Yuuji?” You ask sweetly, reaching over to ruffle his hair as he giggles. You wipe at the corner of his mouth, cleaning it off as he leans into your touch.
“A fish!”
“They were all fish, you idio—brat. You brat.”
Your boyfriend is at least smart enough to catch himself before he finishes his sentence, correcting his choice of words as your head snaps towards him with a dangerous glint in your eyes.
You leave Sukuna with Yuuji alone for the day. Usually, you’re there to babysit the nephew of your boyfriend (who should be more involved in being responsible for his own flesh and blood, you like to think), but work has other plans.
So you leave for the day, snacks stocked and cartoons ready on the tv screen, extra clothes laid out just in case and picture books assorted on the shelves. You give Sukuna a list.
Nap time is at two pm. Snacks every few hours, but not too much. No more than three pieces of candy throughout the day. Juice only boxes at room temperature (because Yuuji is just getting over a cold). Bath time at six pm. Dinner will be takeout that you bring home with you—no touching the stove without someone else to occupy Yuuji (because Sukuna is bad at multitasking).
And most importantly, absolutely no scary movies. None.
Evidently, your boyfriend takes his nephew out to the aquarium, however. You’re not exactly alarmed by the gesture, but something about Sukuna alone with a child out in the real world gives you a small sense of anxiety.
He’s not…the most attentive person at times.
“What color were the fish, Yuuji?” You hum, helping him take a bite out of his dumpling.
“Rainbow,” he beams.
“Rainbow isn’t a color,” Sukuna says flatly, “it’s a bunch of colors at once—”
“Can you let the kid live, you asshole?” You pinch your nose, glaring at him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.
Sukuna only grins. A smug, amused, victorious little grin as he chuckles lowly. You almost want to smack the look of his face—but first, you need to figure out the hell is so funny in the first place.
“Sweetheart,” he drawls, “you’re such a bad influence, y’know. No cursin’ in front’a kids. Or at the table.”
His grin only widens when he catches the empty takeout box you throw at him, throwing his head back and cackling as you huff in agitation.
“You’re the bad influence,” you snap, “if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t lose my temper enough to say that.”
“I like when you’re mad,” he grins slyly, eyeing you up and down as he crosses his arms, “makes you look cute. Like a little kitten hissing, y’know.”
“Enough of you,” you shake your head, turning back to Yuuji. It’s too much trouble (and stress) to go back and forth with Sukuna, so you let him smugly count this as a victory as you quit entertaining him. “Did you like the fish, Yuuji? Were they big?”
“Uh huh!” He nods enthusiastically. And then, with a stubby little tiny finger, he points to the phone in Sukuna’s hand. “Uncle Kuna took pictures!”
Sukuna pauses. You slowly turn to him—and this time, it’s your face that stretches to fit a wide, smug, satisfied little grin.
“Is that so? Uncle Kuna was enjoying himself to take pictures of you, huh?”
“I wasn’t,” he instantly hisses, “I had to because the kid begged me to. He was askin’ for it—”
“We took a selfie! Wanna see?”
“I would love to, Yuuji,” you nod quickly, eyeing the pure horrified look on your boyfriend’s face as Yuuji climbs out of his chair, waddling to his uncle and gently grabbing the phone out of his hands.
It looks practiced. Like he’s used to getting away with taking it just as much as Sukuna is used to letting him. You fight back a wider smile at the thought.
And just like that, Yuuji opens up the photos in his uncle’s phone. (It’s not lost on you that he knows the passcode, either, but you think you’ll tease Sukuna about that later. The poor guy can only handle so much in one sitting, and you do have at least a little mercy on your boyfriend.)
“This is the shark,” Yuuji tilts the phone so you can get a good look, shaky grip on the large screen that’s held in his tiny hands. You cup your hand behind his, helping him secure his hold before letting him swipe with a chubby finger and point once more. “And this is me! With the shark!”
“How cute,” you giggle, poking his nose, “you look so handsome.”
“And this is me and Uncle Kuna. Look at me, I was tall!”
Yuuji swipes and you pause. You’d like to say you want to tease Sukuna about this one, too, but really, you can’t. Not when your heart is too busy melting and bursting at the seams. Your eyes soften as you carefully take the phone in your hands and zoom in.
“Seriously? You don’t gotta zoom in,” you hear a gruff voice scoff, but you’re too busy admiring the precious sight documented in the form of pixels.
Yuuji is sat on Sukuna’s shoulders, happily grinning as his chubby fists grip at Sukuna’s hair. And Sukuna…well, Sukuna is smiling. It’s a faint, barely-there little thing, but it’s there all the same.
He’s got one hand securely wrapped around his nephew’s ankle, keeping him in place, while the other holds the phone to take the picture.
You just barely keep yourself from squealing.
“How adorable,” you breathe, “my two cutest boys in one photo! Let me send this to myself.”
“Don’t even think about—”
Sukuna rubs his temples as you ignore his warning, watching as your thumb makes quick work to send yourself the sweet little picture. The buzz of your phone on the table confirms his worst nightmare.
“That’ll be my new lock screen,” you beam at Yuuji, poking the tip of his nose as he giggles. “Did you have fun with Uncle Kuna? Isn’t he really nice when he wants to be?”
Yuuji nods instantly, his face filled with awe as he says gleefully, “Uncle Kuna is the nicest!”
You grin at Sukuna. He scoffs and looks away—the faintest traces of blush dust his cheeks and his eyes dart to Yuuji for a brief, fleeting second.
You don’t miss the soft, fond little gleam in his eyes before he glares over at you.
“Make sure ya don’t pick a day to babysit the runt again when you’re not here,” he mutters, “I’m not here to play parent.”
“Okay,” you nod, fighting back a knowing smile, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
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Baby Yuuji and Uncle Kuna are very special to me. You don’t get it
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