#this is an exorcism of sorts

[summ3rhead]

Avatrice: Non Omnis Moriar

The Archer - Alexandra Savior, Twenty-one Love Poems (XVIII) - Adrienne Rich, Fear Of Death - John Ashberry, Tears in the Typing Pool - Broadcast, Twenty-One Love Poems (XII) - Adrienne Rich, Oranges are not the only fruit - Jeanette Winterson, A Grief Observed - C.S. Lewis, Never Seek To Tell Thy Love - William Blake, Autotomy - Wisława Szymborska, A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis.

[earthmixsclowderofcats]

Now that marriage equality is in Thailand I hope one guy from Cutie Pie will propose to his boyfriend 👀

I mean, I think I saw a blind item that hinted at something along those lines 👀

Obviously, that's to be taken with a grain of salt, but let's just say if Zee popped the question I would not be surprised.

Actually, I would not be surprised if Nunew got tired of waiting and took it into his own hands lol.

[deadciv]

this is deeply silly, but given that i did spend a non-insignificant amount of time working through it, I thought i’d put it somewhere other eyes can see it. this is for those who thought arcane season 2 was a bit of a rushed mess with a lot of missed opportunities; I particularly found the Caitlyn arc to be unsatisfying and Ekko’s stuff, while good, to be insufficient. in my opinion, the story sorely needed a season 3 to resolve its various plots (which very broadly can be broken down into cosmic arcane yaoi vs. piltover-zaun class struggle) in a satisfying way. i’ll put the rest under a cut to have mercy on my mutuals

Arcane season 2 redux

Act 1: starts off pretty similarly

only two major changes in the first 3 episodes. Isha gets an intense toxic exposure to the concentrated fissure gases that Caitlyn’s been deploying that begins to have effects on her health; we get a scene of Ekko trying to bring together and unite the Lanes in the wake of Silco’s death where he perches atop the Last Drop, takes off his mask, and tries to convince the people of the undercity that they need to stand together and not bow to Piltover’s demands. After this he does still get sucked into the other reality though

also the big guy gets cut entirely; I see no reason for his existence

Act 2: more substantial changes

Sevika plays the revolutionary vigilante, bringing people together: helps get some firelights/their families out of a Zaun-side enforcer lockup; they agree to come to her rally and listen to what she has to say

Jinx and Isha and Sevika still bond and build up a little family dynamic; save each other from undercity infighting etc. still trying to convince Jinx to become the revolutionary the Lanes have been calling for; fails.

Jinx withdraws into herself and focuses on these people closest to her, all the while worried that things might just fall apart again. Isha eventually goes and tries to use her identity to bring people together; the cops still try to round everyone up but Jinx shows up and uses her powers/gadgets to make everyone scatter before the cops can grab them all. Rictus is there and almost captures Isha but Jinx just barely manages to rescue her in time; Singed isn’t picked up by the cops and fades back into the uncercity

People pin their salvation on her; point to her as the person who kept them from being kidnapped by Piltover—“Jinx is back”

In retaliation, Piltover starts playing even more with the noxious gasses in the vent system and begin allowing it to just filter through much of the undercity in low concentrations, leading to a lot of people sickening, driving them towards Viktor’s commune

Fight with Jinx and Ambessa: Ambessa, curious about the opposition and wondering how Jinx can be giving them so much trouble (and frustrated at her lack of progress with hextech), tracks Jinx to a clinic where Jinx is attempting to treat Isha. The girls stand in line together until the other folks recognize Jinx and insist she go first; talk about how grateful they are that she’s back and that she saved them and their loved ones from being rounded up earlier. Jinx is overwhelmed and doesn’t really know how to feel; as she and Isha leave Ambessa strikes. They battle; Jinx is able to hold her own for a while, impressing Ambessa, but is ultimately disarmed, wounded, and overcome. She talks about using Jinx as controlled opposition and how she helps keep Caitlyn in line; about how she wonders what things might’ve been like had she taken Jinx on as a protege instead. Is about to take Isha captive to control Jinx when she activates a rune gem empowered grenade to try and kill them both. Ambessa disables the bomb with a strike of her blade, scattering the gem away from her while Jinx uses the opportunity to use her speed and escape, fiercely protecting Isha. Ambessa leaves, but not without Jinx’s gemless pistol and a better idea of the players on the board. Tells Jinx that her time will come soon as she goes

Vi still goes Rhea Ripley mode, but instead of Jinx coming to pull her out of it, it’s Sevika. She rakes Vi over the coals for siding with the Pilties and abandoning her sister, trying to get her to understand that Silco did things for ideological reasons and wasn’t just Evil; they talk about being pulled between two different worlds and loyalties, etc. Sevika reveals a bit more of what happened with her and her family and talks about how neither Vi nor Silco was willing to accept Jinx for all of her parts, past and present. She leaves with things unresolved and tense still, but Vi starts to think a little bit more about her place in the world; her sister’s; what really matters.

Vi starts wandering around the city, unsure of what to do with herself, seeing Caitlyn and Jinx in every corner, every shadow. Opens her eyes and her mind and really begins to see the city as it’s become: the hate people have for Caitlyn; the hope they’ve placed in Jinx.

By pure happenstance, the two girls encounter each other on the elevator between city levels, with Jinx on her way back from another clinic with new medicine to treat Isha. Vi, still angry about everything, lays into Jinx, who eventually is provoked enough that she eventually yells back (you couldn’t take me without those overgrown punch gloves that you didn’t even make, etc). They start scrapping; bloodying each other a bit and laying open old wounds with each other’s verbal barbs in a fight that goes from almost playful to deadly intense way too quickly before the medicine takes a tumble and Jinx completely stops fighting in order to rescue it. It begins to really sink in for Vi how different her sister is from what’s she thought, and in confusion and shame she runs off.

Jinx takes Isha, now seriously sick from her exposure to the fissure gasses, to Viktor’s commune. He heals her (in his way); Vi has followed them and sees Jinx caring for this little girl in such a genuine way; it reminds her of them when they were kids and she begins to truly come around. Jinx and Isha still have the “you make me feel like i’m seeing through glasses” conversation, just post Viktor healing

More scenes of Caitlyn and Ambessa doing combat practice

Singed is trying to make common cause with Viktor; at this point, Viktor is having none of it. He won’t have anything to do with Warwick etc etc

Vi can’t quite get the courage up to go to Jinx and try to make up; this is unfortunate because at this point Jayce fucks everything up + Caitlyn has been having Vi tailed in case she and Jinx met up and cops/Noxian military roll in

All those touched by Viktor go into a catatonic, empty state, including Isha. Jinx is fairly devastated by this, understandably

Jinx is captured, Sevika is injured (leg) trying to protect Isha (though she manages to get the body safely away), Vi is ignored and watches as Caitlyn coldly presides over the whole thing from afar with Ambessa by her side.

Singed orders Warwick to make away with him and Viktor; they go to his lab

Act 3: also substantial changes

Episode 7 happens (it’s good I basically don’t want to change it at all). Can’t decide if I’m moving it to the episode 6 spot or not though

Jinx tries to hang herself with her own hair in her cell after a hallucination of Silco telling her the only way to break the cycle is to let go. Caitlyn shocks her with the restraints in the cell and has her men cut the hair off in response

Caitlyn sends her guards away and she and Jinx talk. Jinx admits that she didn’t really care about killing Caitlyn’s mom and was just trying to do something to honor Silco’s death and the struggle that was his life; talks about being a jinx and all the people she’s lost or hurt and how every time she tries to make something better it somehow gets worse. knows she’s about to be executed; accepts it. wishes she could see Vi one last time

Caitlyn walks away troubled and unsatisfied with the fact that Jinx isn’t matching what she envisioned of her, but decides to go through with the execution anyway

Check back in on Mel; her plotline has gone fairly similarly but is interspersed a bit more, with her and Lest and Elora trying to snoop around and figure out what the deal with the Black Rose is. She leaves the Black Rose sanctum without accepting the pendant thing; emerges into the undercity and gets a first hand view of what’s been wrought.

Interlude scene of Ekko seeing various other realities, briefly—Jayce’s torment nexus void reality (and a version that seems like, halfway there), a version of himself killing Jinx on the bridge way back when, him and Vi and Powder playing together as kids…Jinx killing herself with the grenade a la the beginning of episode 9 (no time recursion, though)

Jayce and Mel argue about the paths that led them here; confront the Viktor construct

Singed and Viktor ally with each other now; Singed uses his compounds/Warwick to power Viktor’s survival and evolution. They begin to expand throughout the undercity from their reclaimed compound, a wave of constructs taking people by surprise and subsuming them into the whole in order to build up a great enough force to take the hexgates.

Mel returns to Ambessa and begs her to send troops to the undercity to defeat the new threat; when she refuses, Mel realizes that her mother intends to let the undercity die for the sake of expediency and that she likely is waiting for an opportunity to seize Viktor/Singed’s power for herself. Escapes using her magic, shocking her mother; leaves in disgust to find some way to help in Zaun

Encounters Ekko and Sevika; the two have been working together to unite the under city and cautiously accept her help

Vi sends a message to Caitlyn telling her that the constructs will come for Piltover soon enough and that no one is safe; asks for help and asks her to spare Jinx. Maddie intercepts it.

They drag Jinx out on the steps before the council building for an execution via public guillotine. We see her die a handful of times in recursion, the axe coming down as a couple minor details change in the background……until suddenly, she’s just not there anymore. Ekko spirits her away on his firelight board, Vi shatters the ground around the steps to make a big distraction, and Mel uses her powers to stymie any attacks made against them as they flee. a couple other firelights die in the process, including the vampire bat second in command character who was giving Vi her escape ride. Ekko mourns and struggles with the fact that he chose Jinx over his own guys; the two of them have a brief, uncomfortable conversation as they fly away as Jinx clearly feels like she wasn’t worth the risk and Ekko tells her that he’s tired of giving up on people, and that she shouldn’t give up on them either

As they arrive back in there undercity, Vi and Jinx can’t quite find the words to talk to one another. Ekko needles Vi a bit for her flip-flopping

A concerted attack begins. Constructs start to pour over the undercity, trying to claim more people and create a clear path to Piltover

The battle rages. It’s only through the combined power of Vi, Jinx, Ekko, Sevika, etc that they’re able to fight off the onslaught. Warwick is there and part of the attack; something feels off about him but neither Vi nor Jinx quite figure out what it is.

It turns out that Viktor withdrew his forces in order to make his push towards the Hexgates, and that his constructs weren’t at full power yet but are rapidly approaching it. Amidst the wreckage of the battle, Vi tries to convince everyone to listen to Jayce, to go help Piltover even though they left Zaun to die because if they don’t there won’t be anything left of any of them. Ekko joins her; but it’s not until Jinx adds her voice (in her diffident, nihilistic way) that the people of Zaun decide to listen.

Things are going bad up in Piltover; Ambessa’s troops seem to be hanging back, barely defending anything. Caitlyn fights for her city and is seriously wounded in the battle; is about to die before Jinx shows up and blows away every foe around her, saving her without a word

Jayce tries to reach Viktor to do their cosmic yaoi thing in the hexgates

The cavalry arrives, something that the Enforcers and citizens of piltover are not at all expecting, and the tide begins to turn a little bit. Unfortunately, Warwick shows up and starts to absolutely rip through them, injuring the already hurt Sevika badly and hurting Jinx in her effort to protect her. Vi joins that fight and they try to distract the monster away from everyone else, even though Jinx is in a bad way (crushed right side).

Mel fights her way through the chaos to confront her mom; they begin to fight as Mel realizes that her mom is so nihilistic in her pursuit of power so as to cynically calculate that somehow someone else will solve the arcane monstrosity problem and she will be able to pick up the pieces afterward—or, if they fail, at least there won’t be a world left for her to lose power over. Both interrupted as—

Viktor starts to turn everyone; to convert Jayce etc as in canon

As in canon, Ekko shows up with the z-drive and chucks it into the maelstrom

Cosmic yaoi

Isha and all the other folks touched but not fully converted by Viktor’s power come back to themselves, but Changed both physically and otherwise

In that moment, Vi and Jinx see that Warwick is Vander as a small bit of him passes back through the connection between him and Viktor, just as Ambessa’s people take the leash from Singed and gain control over him, calling him back out of their reach.

Meanwhile Rictus, who was sent to ensure that Vi dies in the chaos, nearly ambushes and kills Vi and Jinx atop the juddering, collapsing hexgate before Caitlyn puts a bullet through his head. She disappears before anyone can be sure what happened, though.

In the process of cosmic yaoi, Piltover is changed forever. The spirals and whorls of the void splice themselves through much of the city, rending the council building and academy in two and altering half of the city irrevocably.

The remnant magic combined with Ekko’s time-bending power traps-in-amber the memories of everything that could have happened here. People see their parents again, see people in their lives perishing in ways they’d never have imagined, see versions of Piltover and Zaun that never came to be. The past is in there, but warped; is the future there too?

Music montage time:

Ambessa sees Mel and Kino in the twists and turns of the half-void

Mel and Lest seem to be in some ancient, underground library of some kind

Singed Daughter

Jinx reunites with Isha at the hideout; Vi reluctantly joins them (remembering the last times she’s seen Isha) and Isha offers her a bug to play their little fighting game. Sevika is slowly and grumpily recovering there, too; she has a leg replacement now as well

Ekko welcomes new recruits into the firelights; looks enigmatically at his mural and Powder in particular

Caitlyn looks out moodily from a high vantage point as enforcers and noxian soldiers muster together below her

Maddie ominously finds what remains of the Z-drive

End of season 2!

[everyryuujisuguro]

[aidenwaites]

You see the thing is Christine is THE teenage posession/grieving your best friend and by extension your childhood book. There's no beating it

[dennisboobs]

i wrote another rambly dennis analysis and deleted it <3 y'all don't need that

[climbdraws]

I'll never forget when I was 12 and first started showing signs of depression/anxiety the school guidance counselor sat me down and told me it was all because of my period

[featherymainffins]

When I start having a panic attack about visiting my family I know it's time to go to sleep immediately no ifs no buts

[purplecelestial-buddy]

Watching Conclave (2024) has me thinking that I should learn prayers in latin just to really sell my whole religious trauma haver persona.

[endawn]

excerpt of possible party banter - cole & pax

pax, whispered to himself: stendarr, serva me, nam infirmus sum.

cole: stendarr, preserve me. is stendarr your god ?

pax: …. one of my gods, yes. he is a god of mercy.

cole: does he answer?

p: no.

c: it’s consuming you.

pax: i know.

c: she makes it more bearable, but you’re still tired. [ alt non-rom version: you’re tired. ]

p: i know.

c: i hope he helps you. i’m sorry i can’t help.

[acous]

i think of "when will the foe's delivering stroke set me free to dance and sing?" every once in a while and go insane

[crplpunkklavier]

im mapping out some plot stuff and i think dig enough graves might just end up around 30 chapters again?? really shaping up to be my magic number wrt longfics

[savanir]

“-So that’s why I got these three soul contracts,” Danny holds up three mystical shimmering orbs of light before promptly smushing them together into one “One soul contract now”

Damian raises an eyebrow, which is impressive to see considering he’s at that moment wearing his mask, “you wanted the drunkard magician to owe you one”

“Clock hinted I should sort it out now for future reasons, I have learned not to argue too much about these things with him, it’s literally and figuratively a waste of time.”

“And that’s why you now have soul sight, he gave you that ability for all this”

“Yeah well funny thing, demons will try to scam you in any way they can, it’s very annoying.” but it was also really great to just go ‘I can see the actual soul stuff I want hidden behind your back…’ whenever they thought they were being clever.

“so- what the heck” Danny startles as Batman enters the batcave.

“Danny?”

“Dami… why does father’s soul look like that” Danny keeps squinting with his eyes, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing

And Damian can feel himself get tense, ready for whatever, “... like what”

“it looks… whole… but it’s like it’s made out of millions of tiny fragments, like a cracked prisma. how does that even work?”

Damian thinks really hard, “but it doesn’t look wrong right?”

“No, it's just the world's most elaborate jigsaw puzzle soul. Please explain?”

“Well… the only thing I can think of is that time where father died after we exorcized the demon Nezha from his body and afterwards brought him back to life cause I asked everyone in Gotham to share a tiny bit of their soul with him”

What “Dami what”

“it was that or dead father, Zatanna told me that my life wasn’t sufficient enough for full resurrection, in fact my life and that of the others wouldn’t have worked, so-”

“millions of Gothamites”

“yes”

“our dad is basically Gotham”

Damian shrugs, “father is father”

“Ancients”

[specialgradefckr]

tw: explicit content. satoru/reader. dark dark DARK, bad end au, sorcerer breeding programs, consent is not a thing for sorcerers, all sorts of bad shit.

ultra dark dystopian au where the public knows what cursed spirits are and jujutsu society isn't controlled by the higher ups.

it's controlled by the government.

sorcerers are national assets. tools, property, born and raised to be weapons against cursed spirits.

they're taken from their mothers at birth. indoctrinated and trained in facilities until they're old enough to be sent out to kill curses. they start somewhere around 13. most of them don't reach adulthood.

with attrition rates so high, where are they getting all this fodder?

special grades like satoru gojo don't spend most of their time out in the field.

as soon as he was of age he's sent to a suitable mate. breeding stock like him should create more sorcerers.

for what? to be killed?

the questions come to his mind every now and then, but he knows they're useless. he doesn't think much about why things are the way they are.

he's a weapon. he's been a weapon his entire life. this is what he's good at. what he's meant for.

however he feels about his life, satoru gojo was born and bred for sorcery, in every universe. he loves it. what do the details matter?

things aren't so different for satoru in this au. he wakes up, kills curses, creates new sorcerers, gets maybe 3 hours of sleep and does it again.

he doesn't get to pick who or when he's bred with. he's a stud. his partners are broodmares. sorcerers who managed to survive the meat grinder of exorcism.

when satoru gojo meets you, he doesn't know you. doesn't even know your name.

he doesn't need that to get you pregnant. he's sent to a room, locked in there with you, crystal-clear instructions on what you're meant to do.

it isn't his first time doing this. it's not your first time either, he's sure.

it's not romantic. it's not even sexy. it's quiet, practical, and methodical -

but oh. oh, does it feel good.

he doesn't know if it's just your body, or if this is something you actively do but it feels like you're clenching around him, like your cunt is embracing him and refusing to let go.

you're touchy, too. touching his face, his hair, his body. satoru is used to roving eyes (he's instructed never to say no; after all, what if a woman who fucked him bore a sorcerer child?) and hands.

but your hands aren't greedy. they're tender. gentle caresses like the sigh you make when he buries himself to the hilt inside you.

he nearly jerks at the feeling of your lips on his neck. kisses littered up to the underside of his jaw, featherlight fleeting. ghostly, even.

when he's rutting into you, quick, efficient motions to get him closer to the edge, you meet his ice-blue gaze and press your lips to his -

it's the first time he's been kissed on the lips.

he remembers your eyes watering the first time he penetrated you. next time, he makes a point to whet his fingertips, rub over your clit, kiss your breasts, your neck, until you're dripping over him.

he doesn't know why. it's unnecessary effort. all he has to do is release inside you.

but he supposes if you're both stuck here for a while, it might as well be... nice.

and it is nice. this time he feels one of your hands grasp his, a strange feeling churning in his gut as you guide his hand to your clit.

with just a few careful swipes, timed to the rhythm of your hips bucking into him, the sonnet of your little gasps and moans, he watches you start to shiver and quake.

you clench around him and something inside him lights up, tugging, bright and hot and bursting along with his climax.

it's never been like this before, never been this good. you squeeze around him like you're milking him, panting with your mouth slack and opened wide, eyes glossy and dilated.

irrationally, he leans in to cover your mouth with his, lap at your tongue, steal away your desperate breaths and feel you moan and squirm beneath him.

when he moves to pull out, your arms dart around him, holding him close. like you don't want him to leave.

and even though it's never been like this, even though he's never tried this hard or liked it this much, satoru still thinks this is the strangest part.

laying there, bodies entwined, chests rising and falling as you fall asleep against one another.

it's warm. it's hot and sweaty and full of the stench of sex and bodily fluids, and it should be disgusting, but it's not.

maybe he's just too tired to care. when his six eyes finally close, the darkness that embraces him is warm, enticing, and absolute.

he can only just make out your heartbeat within it.

there's a few days of that, until your fertile period is over and you part, without words.

in fact he can't recall if he even spoke to you. you might not even know his name, though he's rather infamous, and with his hair and eyes he's hard to mistake.

satoru thinks about you sometimes. in the dead quiet of the night when his brain refuses to stop churning. in the midst of battle.

in the beds of the others he's meant to breed, cooling bodies laying against him as he brings himself to climax inside them and then pulls away.

it doesn't even feel that good anymore. not now that he'd had it with you.

sometimes he wishes he'd never had you. most times, he wants you there with him.

none of it matters. he knows that. he kills curses, he mates with fellow sorcerers. they're walking wombs, and he's a sperm donor. an impersonal exchange.

the worst is when he's summoned to fight a curse that seems just a little too low grade for him.

usually because the sorcerers originally dispatched failed.

in jujutsu sorcery, failure is death.

but high-level sorcerers like him aren't usually dispatched against lower level curses. it's almost invariably weaker sorcerers - younger ones.

it takes him an instant to exorcise it. seconds, really.

how many people died trying to do what was second nature to him?

how many of them were children?

it's his fault, in the end. for not being able to be everywhere at once. having to breed more to replace the sorcerers that wouldn't have been lost if he didn't have to spend so much time breeding.

the system churns through sorcerers like a meat grinder. anyone who comes out alive is squeezed for raw material, to make more of them.

an unending marathon. all that's waiting for them on the other side is death, death or being reduced to breeding stock.

he wonders what happens to female sorcerers who can't be bred anymore. are they just worked until they die?

do they ever get to see their children?

it's been years. if he'd gotten you pregnant then his children might be old enough to be sent out by now. if he has any children.

at the rate they've been having him fuck, he must have at least a few.

where are they? where are you? useless questions.

there's only been one fellow sorcerer he was able to keep track of throughout the years, and he...

well. he won't be seeing him again.

but he does see you again. years later.

do you remember him? he remembers you. how many others have you been bred with? was there a dark, long-haired sorcerer among them?

someone with sharp violet eyes and a warm smile and large hands? did you have any children by him?

is there anything left of his friend in this world?

the questions bubble in his chest, staining the back of his throat like bile.

if he asked, he's sure you would answer. you smile when you see him.

but instead he buries himself inside you, in your arms, your tight embrace. this is the only time he gets to feel good.

is this the only time you get to feel good, too? during this week of your fertile window, when they send you in to anonymous sorcerers to get fucked pregnant?

breeding stock, he remembers. what will be done with you when you can no longer bear children? what do you have to look forward to?

satoru wants to ask. did you have any children by him? did any of them survive?

but instead he buries himself in you to the hilt. until you keen and stretch underneath him.

even if he did ask, you wouldn't know.

you hold him too tightly for a brood mare, for an encounter that will only last as long as your fertile window.

do you yearn for these moments, too? do you miss him, do you want to see him again?

did you bear his children? did you want to show them to him when they were born? did you want him there?

did you - you're looking up at him hopefully, arms that hold him close, it's time to leave now and your eyes are wet and empty and your shoulders drop as you lay back on the bed limply -

geto was right.

[ryukatters]

it's your fault for loving me — y. okkotsu ⁺˚⋆｡°✩

⟡ pairing: yuuta okkotsu x fem!reader

⟡ cw: /DARK CONTENT, /yandere! yuuta, /dubcon, /NONCON, ex-bf!yuuta, stalking, he breaks into your apartment, he /manhandles you (he’s strong), /implied babytrapping, /possessiveness, MINORS DNI

⟡ wc: 2.9k (someone sedate me)

⟡ song inspo: language by brent faiyaz

⟡ summary: Your ex boyfriend breaks into your apartment. What do you mean he needs to leave? He’s staying right here.

The slow, muffled drag of your feet ricochet off the hallway walls as you trudge along to your apartment. You fumble with your keys for a little bit, but find no resistance as you insert it into the slot. 

“Huh, that’s odd…I could’ve sworn I locked it.”

You chalk it up to exhaustion. You're only practically ever home to sleep due to the way you've been throwing yourself onto mission after mission. Even now, sleep is a luxury you can barely afford. You kick off your shoes lazily, not bothering putting them in their rightful place on the shoe rack. 

Maybe before, you would have cared more about keeping the house tidy. Or maybe before, your loving boyfriend would pamper and coddle you the minute you opened the front door, so you never had to worry about the little details like putting your shoes in the right place.

You were exhausted. 

You wanted nothing more than to wash up and plop down onto your soft, soft bed. You don’t even make it to your bedroom door before you pause, anxiety prickling your nerves. 

You sense him before you see him. Yuuta’s cursed energy has always had a tendency to seep out whenever he was around you. Whether it’s a testament to how he’s able to fully relax in your presence or a display of raw power, you’re not sure. 

"You're home," a certain black-haired sorcerer chirps. "How was your mission?"

In the past, simply hearing Yuuta’s voice would be enough to melt away the pent up stress from a hard day of exorcizing curses. It’d soothe your aching muscles and tired soul as you let yourself be enveloped by the weight of his affection. But right now, it did everything except that. 

The shiver of excitement that used to run down your spine is replaced by trepidation caused by the only person who used to be able to comfort you. 

You know better than to ask how he knew you were on a mission, much less ask how he managed to break into your apartment. It seems he's been in here for a while, with the way he seems to have made himself at home on your bed, much like the way he used to before. 

"Why are you here?"

The question makes him sit up. 

“Because I missed you. Is that so bad?”

You want to laugh. The whole situation is all sorts of fucked up, and the two of you are talking about it the same way one would the weather.

“Yuuta, we broke up 2 months ago,” you press, vexation lacing your words. You could never imagine yourself using that tone on him. Yuuta’s always been so meticulous in loving you, in making sure you were happy.  He’s never given you a reason to be upset with him. But that was then, and this was now. 

You could say whatever you wanted to say. You were tired and definitely not in the mood to deal with a supposed burglar that happens to be in the form of your ex-boyfriend.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” he says simply.

“You walked out on me!”

“Because I thought you needed some space. And now I’m back. But I never said we were breaking up.” 

Space was an extremely generous term for what Yuuta gave you. If you could consider watching your every move from a distance, keeping tabs on who you talk to, and making sure you stay out of trouble secretly, “space.” He would never let you know that though. It’s too much, too soon.

He couldn't help it, not when his precious baby could get hurt. He’d never forgive himself if that happened.

“Come and sit, my love. You look so tired.” He pats the space next to him. You will your heart not to flutter at the familiar nickname. 

Your body moves before your brain can catch up. It’s almost like listening to him was muscle memory. You pause in your step, cross your arms, and glare at him. 

“Leave, Yuuta. I don’t want to see you.” The words rise from the very depths of your soul and spill out of your mouth like bile, burning and spiteful. It hurts to speak to him like this, even after he’d abandoned you with no hopes of return. 

“Sit, love.” A little more demanding this time. “I’m not repeating myself again.” 

The tension in the air is palpable, so thick you can cut it with a knife.

You take a seat. Yuuta doesn’t miss a beat before he has his hands on you. 

“Missed you,” his hand reaches out to cup your jaw, thumb rubbing against the plushness of your cheek. 

You’ve always been so soft, it’s one of the things Yuuta loves the most about you. 

You flinch. Blame it on the adrenaline coursing through your body like wildfire. Your fight or flight response is shot. Yuuta’s touch seems to rewrite everything that’s been hardwired into your brain. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple, before moving down to kiss the tip of your nose, and both of your cheeks. Each press of his lips leaves feels like it’s being seared into your flesh, a metaphorical branding iron of sorts— to show that you’re Yuuta’s and Yuuta’s only. 

Your mind goes blank when he sucks a kiss into the side of your neck, whimpering pathetically as he grazes his teeth along the sensitive skin. 

“We can’t do this,” you assert, but the words get stuck in your throat, so it comes out more as a whiny sigh. Your body seems to have a tendency to betray you when it comes to him.

“But we can,” Yuuta coos, pushing you down until your back is flat against the mattress. He takes both of your hands in his, lifting them up until they’re above your head, effectively pinning you in place. “We’re doing it right now, aren’t we?” 

Yuuta can appear pretty unassuming to outsiders. He’s quiet, reserved, almost meek. If one were to take a closer look, however, they’d realize that beneath that unostentatious front was a more commanding aura, one that forces you to submit to his whims with his sweet tongue and sensuous touches. Perfectly calculated, perfectly executed. 

"I fucking hate you,” you spit, thrashing against his hold, but to no avail. 

"No you don't,” Yuuta shuts you down with conviction. Like it’s the absolute truth— the kind that can’t be twisted or broken. It almost feels like he’s chastising you for thinking otherwise. “Take that back right now.”

To be honest, hearing those words stung more than any physical blow you could have ever landed on him. Has he not shown you enough love? Or have you already forgotten? 

Isn’t what you have pure love? 

A hand wraps around your neck, lithe fingers inching up before they grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him.  “I said,” blunt fingernails digging into your skin, “take it back.”

You sputter out an apology with teary eyes, an odd mix of humiliation and regret seeping into your bones, stomach swirling with shame and to your horror, a tinge of anticipation. 

It’s pathetic, really, how easily you give in. 

“Now give me a kiss, sweetheart.” Yuuta bridges the gap between the two of you. He presses his already throbbing bulge against your clothed pussy, moaning into your mouth appreciatively.

You feel so dizzy you think you might explode. 

Yuuta makes quick work of the buttons on your uniform, releasing your wrists so he can throw the offending garment and all your underthings beneath it to some random corner of the room. 

Calloused hands roam your body, squeezing and groping, as if to map out the cartography of your flesh, committing each peak and valley to memory. He watches in fascination how your skin bristles with goosebumps in the wake of his touch. 

He ignores your pleading cries and attempts to push him off. Yuuta is being driven by pure instinct alone. That sick, twisted voice in his head that he’s always tried to suppress whispers. It goads him on to take what he wants, to make sure you remember that you’re his, and his alone. 

He knows that you haven’t been seeing anyone. You were always so loyal, even when you were upset with him. Anyone who did try was taken care of the minute they left your sight. 

It’s been far too long since he’s had you. His desire fills him with a sort of quiet rage, one that metamorphoses into something darker, more sinister and morose the longer he goes without you. Almost like a curse that’s gone far too long without feeding. 

Yuuta Okkotsu loves you to the point of madness.

He thinks he might literally implode in on himself any second longer without you.

It’s almost laughable how different the two of you are. An ethereal beauty too good for this world, yet here you were in between the legs of a cursed man with too much love than he knows what to do with. 

“Yuuta, please,” you cry out. You flail your legs in an attempt to kick Yuuta off. He catches both with ease, throwing them over his shoulder to slide your bottoms off, leaving you completely bare. 

He can’t suppress the groan that tumbles past his lips. You’re even more beautiful than he remembers. 

You’re dewy eyed and gasping, nails clawing at his forearms and beating at his chest in a last ditch effort to stand your ground. Nothing can deter him. 

Yuuta could easily heal himself if he wanted to. But the angry red welts and blossoming hues of purple on his pale skin are a badge of honor of the utmost prestige. It’s undeniable proof that you’re real, that his love for you isn’t just a fragment of his imagination, and that none of this was just some pipe dream. He could take a little pain if that meant you got to be his. 

He’s always been yours without any reservations. 

“You can cry if you want, if it helps,” he says genuinely, but the gleam in his eyes shifts into something predatory. “But you should know you’re really fucking wet.” As if to prove a point, he slowly fucks his middle finger into your weeping hole, then his index, then his ring. They curl up to rub against that spongy spot just the way you like. 

You let out a sharp gasp, spine arching off the mattress. 

You tried to ignore him—detach yourself from the whole situation, let him get his fill, and be done with this whole ordeal. But it’s Yuuta— the man has a grasp on both the corporal and spiritual parts of you that you can’t bring yourself to understand. It seems like he knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. And right now, he’s managed to make a home in all five of your senses. There’s no escape. He's made sure of that. 

He pulls out his fingers with a lewd squelch. A clear sheen of liquid coats every digit, stringy as he parts them to show you. He smiles knowingly.

“You keep fighting me, but it turns out you want it after all, sweetheart.” 

Your cheeks burn in humiliation. Whether it’s from the situation at hand or the truth behind his words, you’re not too sure. 

“Don’t you know?” Yuuta rasps, fingers going back to work their way inside you rhythmically, bringing you closer and closer to the precipice, paying special attention to how you try to mask how your face contorts in pleasure. 

He presses his forehead against yours, willing you to look at him wordlessly. “I know what’s best for you. I know what you want. And right now, this little pussy wants to be fucked. Isn’t that right, my love?” 

He’s met with a breathless moan. You’re so close. Tears threaten to fall as your chest heaves in exertion, trying not to teeter off the edge too soon. 

You look so pathetic it’s insane. Yuuta swears he can feel his mouth water in anticipation for what’s bound to come next. He thrusts his fingers with calculating speed and precision, the heel of his palm slapping against your neglected clit just right. 

He leans down right when you cum, lips catching yours as you moan into his mouth. Satisfaction swells in his chest as your slick drips down his wrist. 

“You’re ready.” 

Yuuta unbuttons his pants, pulling it down just enough for his cock to spring free, tip slapping his abdomen as it leaks with precum. He fists it, jerking his hand up and down his length. He slaps it against your clit once, twice, and a third time before he slips it inside your weeping hole. 

Your walls spasm around his cock to accommodate his sheer size and girth, struggling a bit more than usual. You feel so full. It’s been far too long since he’s fucked you. You claw at his lower abdomen, trying to make space between the two of you. It’s all too much, all at once. Yuuta won’t have it. He slips his hands under your sweaty thighs, pinning your ankles on either side of your head, effectively folding you in half. You cry out at the stretch.

“Always take me so well, angel.” 

He sets a steady pace, dragging his cock in, pulling out, and then back in with an absurd amount of force. The sound of skin on skin ricochets against your bedroom walls like a sort of cacophonous symphony. You don’t get the luxury of the sweet, slow thrusts he usually blesses you with, while he coos about how good you are for him. 

“Where’s all that attitude from earlier? Am I making you feel that good?” 

You glower, refusing to acknowledge the fact that your body betrays your mind— that Yuuta’s bringing you closer and closer to nirvana the further he drags you down into hell. 

He slides his hand down your tummy, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Yuuta—!” You clench around his length, hurtling towards your second orgasm quickly. 

“You’re so greedy. Cumming again already?” 

He’s met with silence. He’ll forgive your transgressions this time around. He’ll just have to teach you how to be his good girl again. 

A particularly rough thrust has you choking back a moan.

“Thought so. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

Your peak hits you like a crashing wave. Your body tenses, leaving you gasping for air as you clench around Yuuta’s cock. You cry out deliriously, falling apart as Yuuta continues to pound into you. It’s too much, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. You’re stuck.

“I’m the only one that can make you feel this way, understand?” He grits his teeth, staving off his release just a little longer. He fucks you through your orgasm thoroughly as he chases his own. 

He presses all of his body weight on top of you, your legs on either side of his head as he folds you into a mating press. He groans at the change in position, allowing him to fuck into you even deeper. 

Realization cuts through your cloudy judgment like a sword. 

“Yuuta— Yuuta, please. Pull out–!” 

Your pleas fall on deaf ears. He’s rambling now, intoxicated by all you have to offer, yet you’re the one paying the price. The effects of overstimulation are taking over now, your body twitching involuntarily with each thrust. 

“I’m not leaving you, ever. It’s just you and me.” 

You shake your head in objection, mind too hazy to voice out any resistance. Tears well up, threatening to spill from your lash line. 

Yuuta nods with a grin, canines glinting, just like a predator that’s caught its prey. “It’s true, sweetheart. I’ll make sure of it. Say I’m it for you. That I’m the only one.” 

“Say it.” 

“You’re it for me, Yu. The only one.” You babble, tears streaming freely now. 

You feel the moment he reaches his plateau— the way his dick twitches inside of you right before your walls are being painted white with splashes of Yuuta’s hot cum. 

Your fate’s been sealed. 

He fucks into you a few more times, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he rides out his orgasm. A white ring wraps around the base of his cock, the copious amounts of seed he’s poured into you threatening to leak out. 

Yuuta doesn’t bother pulling out. In a quick show of dexterity and freak strength, he manages to flip the both of you so that your positions are switched, with you lying on top of Yuuta’s chest. The steady beat of his heart fills your mind. 

Your entire body is on fire. You feel numb. You let yourself be carried away by the prospect of sleep, hoping that you’ll wake up to find that this was all just some wild fragment of your imagination.  

He presses a hand against your head, like he was afraid you’d pull away and ruin whatever fantasy he’s deluded himself into believing. 

The simple truth is– Yuuta Okkotsu loves you. And he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that no one else gets in the way of that. 

He runs his hand up and down your bare back lovingly, admiring your spent form. You’ve always been so soft. So pliant, so willing to give in to his desires. 

It’s the thing that Yuuta loves most about you. 

a/n: i had to reupload bc this hellsite sucks. hopefully this shows up in the tags now

tagging @princess-okkotsu again hehe

[p0orbaby]

Forty Winks Would Be Just Priceless

summary: your kid only sleeps when being driven, the diva that she is

warnings: none !

a/n: if someone could drive me around to get to sleep that would be great

word count: 1.7k

-

It’s 2:47 a.m., and you’re sitting in the passenger seat of a car that you didn’t even know Leah could operate at this level of exhaustion. You’re wondering if she’s siphoning energy directly from the Devil, because that’s the only explanation. The car smells like a combination of McDonald’s fries, stale coffee, and something unidentifiable that you’re hoping isn’t some sort of roadkill under the bonnet. Your wife is behind the wheel, white-knuckling it like she’s doing 90 on the M25. In reality, she’s going 15 miles per hour around your parish.

Again.

“Is this the fifth lap or the sixth?” you ask. You’ve lost count. Somewhere around lap three, you started dissociating. The glow of the streetlights is the only indication you’re still on Earth.

“Does it matter?” Leah responds, glancing over at you with an arched eyebrow that you recognise as the look she gives opponents who try to muscle her off the ball. Leah has three moods: sweet, commanding, and “I could end you without lifting a finger.” You’re currently dealing with the third. The funny part is, she’s only this intimidating when she’s wearing a hoodie over her messy hair, dark circles framing her bloodshot eyes, which she insists is the result of “just a little” caffeine.

You eye her warily. “Maybe not,” you admit, slumping lower into the seat. You glance over your shoulder into the backseat, where Eden, your two-year-old sleep terrorist, has finally succumbed to the soothing vibrations of the Mercedes. Eden’s head is lolling to one side, mouth slightly open, and you’re just about convinced she’s auditioning to be the next exorcism case.

Leah’s been driving for about an hour now. You’re on your third consecutive night of the same routine: dinnertime is war, bath time is a ceasefire, and bedtime is a full-blown, special-ops mission with all the difficulty of invading a heavily guarded country. Eden has the upper hand. Eden is always ten steps ahead. And the only way to win is to retreat—to the car.

“I feel like we should get a second car,” you suggest, half-serious. “One specifically for these midnight missions. Maybe something with better fuel efficiency”

Leah gives you a side-eye that says, “You’re joking, right?” But you can tell she’s considering it. “Or we could teach her to fall asleep like a normal child. In her bed. At bedtime”

You snort. “Teach her? Are we raising a human or a feral cat?”

Leah doesn’t even have to respond to that. Eden is a force of nature. You’re just two unfortunate souls caught in her tiny hurricane.

“And what do we do when she grows out of this?” Leah asks, but it’s more like she’s thinking out loud. “Do we drive her to school every day just to get her to wake up?”

“Let’s just worry about surviving the next hour,” you say, looking at the clock. You remember reading somewhere that car exhaust fumes can lull a person to sleep. You briefly wonder if that’s what’s happening to you right now.

Leah clicks her tongue in thought, turning onto the next street, where a dog that clearly suffers from some kind of psychological trauma is barking at nothing. “When I was little,” she begins, “my mum would drive me around to get me to sleep, but we lived in the countryside. There were no barking dogs, just the occasional sheep”

“Well, that’s why you turned out so well-adjusted,” you remark dryly. “If Eden grows up thinking the only way to fall asleep is to go for a drive, she’s going to need therapy. Which we can’t afford, by the way, because we’ll be spending all our money on petrol”

Leah chuckles, but it’s the kind of laugh that’s a little too high-pitched to be real. “We’ll add it to the list of things she’ll blame us for when she’s older. Right next to ‘Mum used to make me eat vegetables’ and ‘Mama never let me play with knives’”

Eden lets out a little snore, and you both freeze, staring at the rearview mirror. Leah’s foot hovers over the brake pedal as if any sudden movement might wake the tiny monster in the back. You can practically hear both of you holding your breath, waiting for the inevitable cry of protest that’s sure to come the second the car stops moving.

But it doesn’t come. Instead, Eden’s snore deepens, becoming the kind of sleep sounds that suggest she’s off in dreamland, probably riding unicorns or setting fire to imaginary villages.

You relax a fraction, and so does Leah, though she’s still gripping the wheel like it’s her last lifeline. You wonder if she’s ever used this level of concentration on the pitch. You’ve never seen her miss a tackle, but this is an entirely different ball game.

“So, when do we stop?” Leah whispers. You can hear the exhaustion in her voice now, thick and sludgy like she’s been awake for a week.

You consider this. “We could keep driving until sunrise. Then she’ll wake up with the sun and think it’s a new day. Maybe it’ll reset her sleep schedule”

“Or we’ll just be perpetually exhausted and still sleep-deprived, except now we’ve got morning traffic to deal with,” Leah counters. “You know, if we were living in a different era, this could be considered some form of witchcraft. Driving around in circles at night to get a child to sleep. Someone would’ve burned us at the stake by now”

“Wouldn’t that be a relief,” you mutter, then immediately regret it, because even though you’re joking, you’re too tired to be sure.

Leah sighs. “I love her. I really do. But sometimes I wonder if we’re the ones being trained here”

“There’s no wonder about it,” you reply, deadpan. “We’re definitely the ones being trained. She’s got us figured out. We’re puppets. Eden pulls the strings, and we drive”

Leah smiles at that, though it’s more of a grimace of acknowledgment. “You know, when I said I’d do anything for her, I didn’t realise it included nighttime rally racing in a residential neighborhood”

“Should’ve read the fine print,” you say, then yawn so hard it hurts. “But hey, at least we’re doing this together, right? Quality time”

Leah glances over at you, and this time, her smile is real. It’s small, but it’s there, and it makes you feel a little less like a zombie. “Yeah,” she agrees softly. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else”

You reach over and squeeze her hand, and for a moment, there’s peace. Not the kind of peace you’ll ever find in a parenting book or one of those sanctimonious mommy blogs, but the kind that exists in the trenches, where you and Leah are currently wading through knee-deep toddler warfare.

As you turn onto yet another street that looks identical to the last, you finally admit defeat. “Let’s call it,” you say. “She’s out. If we keep going, we’re going to end up in Scotland”

“Good idea,” Leah says, already beginning the slow process of easing off the gas and pulling into your driveway. She parks with the kind of precision that makes you think she missed her calling as a getaway driver.

You both sit there for a minute, basking in the silence that only comes when your child is finally, blessedly asleep. You’re in no rush to move, because you know the second you do, Eden will sense it and all this work will be undone in a matter of seconds.

But Leah is braver than you. She quietly turns off the engine, unbuckles her seatbelt, and with the precision of a bomb squad technician, she turns to the backseat. You watch as she gingerly unbuckles Eden, cradling her like she’s made of porcelain.

And somehow, miraculously, Eden stays asleep. Leah manages to get out of the car, Eden still snoozing in her arms, and you’re right behind her, ready to perform the hand-off should things go south.

The two of you tiptoe through the house like burglars, careful to avoid every creaky floorboard. You’re halfway to Eden’s room when she stirs, and you both freeze in place like deer caught in headlights. But then she just shifts in Leah’s arms, sighs deeply, and snuggles closer into her mother’s shoulder.

You finally reach the cot, and Leah lowers her in with the gentleness of a saint. The transfer is seamless. Eden doesn’t even flinch.

The second the cot rail is up, you and Leah back out of the room like you’ve just completed a high-stakes mission, which you basically have. The door closes with a soft click, and you both stand there, wide-eyed, disbelieving.

“She’s asleep,” Leah whispers, like she doesn’t dare believe it.

“She’s asleep,” you echo, equally stunned.

And then, without warning, Leah lets out a sound that you can only describe as a half-crazed giggle. It’s infectious, and you start laughing too, because it’s either that or you’re going to cry, and honestly, you’ve done enough of that in the last few days.

“We did it,” you say between breaths, leaning against the wall for support. “We actually did it”

Leah pulls you into a hug, and it’s warm and comforting, and it feels like a reward for all the hell you’ve been through tonight. “We make a good team,” she murmurs into your hair.

“The best,” you agree, letting yourself relax into her embrace.

But as you’re standing there, holding each other in the hallway like the survivours you are, you both hear it: the unmistakable sound of Eden stirring, a tiny whimper that promises to turn into a full-blown cry in about three seconds.

You look at each other in horror, and without a word, Leah grabs the car keys.

“You can drive,” she says, already heading back towards the front door.

You don’t even argue. Instead, you grab your the keys from her, knowing full well that this battle isn’t over yet.

And as you both head back to the car for yet another sleepless night, you can’t help but think that one day, years from now, you’ll look back on these nights with some kind of twisted fondness.

But for now, all you can do is keep driving.