#OH THE DAY HAS COME AND I SCREAMED

[fumifooms]

Marcille and Chilchuck’s interwoven character arcs: the fantasy of prince charming, idealization vs pessimism and loss

I’ve alluded to Marcille and Chilchuck being central to each other’s arcs so many times but the proper full analysis has been long overdue. I’ve made a post going into their differences and similarities and the many ways they’re foils for each other, but this is going to give more focus to a narrative rather than character angle this time around. We talk a lot about the importance of Marcille in Chilchuck’s arc, it's more obvious overall, but less so about Chilchuck’s importance in her own, so this is going to emphase on the latter. When talking about fantasy vs reality, usually optimism is associated with fantasy and pessimism with reality, but that's not the full picture either. Both situations and relationships can be layered and subtext can imply quite a lot, the reality of things can be more complex than we'd like or hard to reconcile, and that's exactly what we're talking about today and how that is a lesson both Marcille and Chilchuck needed to learn. Give this a shot and look at the manga pages alongside my reading and decide for yourself whether I’ve got a point or I’m going overboard~!

So, Marcille and Chilchuck are character foils in many many ways, and I think a particularly brilliant part of their arc is how they balanced each other out on idealization. On one hand, idealizing things means only seeing what you want to see through rose-colored glasses, on the other, being completely opposed to it usually means denouncing any optimism at all, refusing to hold any good faith or hope. These stances reflect both their backgrounds, as Chilchuck has lived through being discriminated against and taken advantage of consistently, betrayed by employers and eventually the person supposed to be closest to him, his wife, meanwhile Marcille grew up more sheltered and lonely, and books were a big way through which she experienced social situations & the ways of the world in her rural home before going to the magic academy as a researcher and getting more actual life experience herself.

I think it’s especially interesting to analyze the trope of— the idealization of— the perfect chivalrous prince on a white horse who is pure hearted and will make you swoon, in the context of their relationship and their arcs! It’s a recurring motif- you’ll just have to trust me and read further~ Obviously this contains spoilers for the whole manga, so beware! It's very long because I'm trying to cover the topic fully from the ground up, my apologies.

Table of contents:

How they start out

The Daltian Clan and its importance

Prince Charming vs Chilchuck Tims

Ideals vs desires vs wants

Deconstructing realistic romance & compromising between romanticism and reality

Princess imagery in Marcille

Conclusion

Let’s start with the beginning:

How the characters start off:

Their relationship is both familiar and strained (extra reading: analysis of their relationship pre-canon and early canon), they bounce off each other with the ease of coworkers who’ve been working together for two years and who share similar common sense. Because yes they’re both generally grounded and rational, and generally they respect each other’s input and perspective, but, they both have blind spots…

The biggest hurdle is the way Chilchuck refuses to open up. Marcille has made efforts to befriend him, and though he was open to developing a better workplace dynamic and, say, helping her out with shopping for a pouch outside of work, even if it ended up being counterproductive he’d refuse to even just say his age, let alone share anything about his family situation. Knowing he had kids and a wife would have pretty efficiently fully shut down that he was a kid, and yet he valued being closed off more. Chilchuck is often shown being pessimistic, assuming the worst intentions out of people and being wary of anything good happening, being the last person to trust something or someone, etc. (Quick summary analysis of him I made if you want here, beyond the character foil analysis I linked at the beginning.) He prefers assuming that opening up will only bring him problems to assuming that it'd bring about positive things.

Meanwhile Marcille is very… Honestly she’s hard to classify strongly. Because I could say she’s very open to people, but honestly it’s conditional? She emotes intensely but she’s not quite a befriending machine either, especially when we recall the magic academy days as well, she’s not unused to keeping people at some level of distance, herself keeping a lot of secrets too. She was very wary of Laios at first because she had misconceptions, she holds grudges and isn’t personable with everyone like Namari or Toshiro, when she’s introduced to the party she seems serious and doesn’t smile. While I don’t fully agree, there’s a good analysis not by me here showcasing what I’m talking about. Marcille’s more serious academic side often gets undermined and I think it’s an important part of her, but then the difference between her and Chilchuck comes down to theory vs practice: knowledge vs experience. I think something more fitting to say would be that she’s idealistic and easily swayed, for example the way she lights up whenever she can put a story-like twist on things, her mood can go from dread to hype and reverse in one second, like with riding a kelpie or with the conflict between Chilchuck and his wife, or again with Namari, where it becomes a sort of hero vs antagonist dynamic for her where justice and righteous thoughts should override everything else like needing money to live. She's very stubborn, like he is, but it's easier for her to come around in dramatic ways, on things big and small, mentioning for another example thinking better of orcs suddenly because they can cook well.

So sure on first meeting she isn’t exactly eager, but then we do see her enthusiastically trying to befriend everyone! Becoming very friendly once she’s done assessing them. She is social, and fittingly she’s very curious about people. And that said, aesthetics do matter a lot to her, and I mean this beyond just enjoying vibes, for example- and follow along the lingo I'm setting up here- if something ‘breaks’ an aesthetic like Chilchuck or Falin not being a child she’ll willfully dismiss and ignore it, if she can spin something into a story like Chilchuck’s breakup she’ll get carried away, she can get the wrong impression, be gullible for the sake of believing a narrative, such and such. I’d say she’s guarded around people at first, but then with time becomes an open book emotions wise, how she’s always loudly and unapologetically talking about her feelings and emoting. She’s not reckless, rather she’s bold and often has to make decisions quickly, like when the plan unexpectedly changed during the red dragon fight, but things like using dark magic can feel like thoughtless decisions looking from the outside, like to Chilchuck, who as per his pessimism dictates he sees all of this in a negative light, assumes the worst: that she’s just ignorant, naive and reckless. She’s easily worried and discouraged but still always perseveres.

He's biased against mages and elves because of past experiences and he projects that onto Marcille. And it makes sense because good faith is dangerous to Chilchuck- for his feelings in relationships yes, but more concretely and important for his life at work, the way an old party of his was going to sacrifice him to succubi for easy money. Like the way he constantly puts his non-work values down to the group so they don’t have high expectations of him, having high expectations for someone else is vulnerability he doesn’t want to or cannot afford. The result however is that he, too, put people into boxes to avoid having his preconceived notions challenged. He's very judgemental, which we see with Laios as well, and even with Izutsumi in the ice golem chapter, but by then he's learned to self-reflect more and be honest with his feelings due to Leed, meaning his social conflicts get resolved more often and more quickly, again like with Izutsumi in the ice golem chapter.

So in the end, there are things that stand in the way of them having true, equal respect for one another. She sees him as a kid despite everything else (being capable and mature, etc etc), and he sees her as a ticking bomb of a naive elf mage who’s gonna get herself into legal trouble if she doesn’t get them killed first.

And it takes an arc spanning the whole manga for them to get there, to truly see each other on equal footing, culminating with the bicorn chapter.

I'm going to be mentioning them a lot so in my mind, the most important Marcille & Chilchuck arc defining scenes happen in: mandrake chapter, mimic chapter, shapeshifter chapter, hypogriff soup chapter, changelings, bicorn, succubus, and Marcille dungeon lord. We're talking mostly about Marcille's discrimination and their narrative about loss here, but on the end of Chilchuck's discrimination the dark magic plot is very central so honorable mention to the red dragon chapters, the harpies chapter and the cockatrice chapter, the latter where Chilchuck airs out his beef particularly directly.

Interestingly enough, the mandrake chapter which is in VERY early manga, where characters and dynamics are still being set up, Marcille gets Chilchuck to say that she isn't a burden and that he's glad they have her and her skillset with them, so the question of "does he respect her at all" was answered before the audience could even think to ask it, and Marcille also makes statements shortly after showing she respects him in turn- more on that later. This has for a result that we do know there's a foundation of respect here, even when as said it's not complete... yet.

So let’s get into it! Early on we already get a lot instances hinting at their opposed core values of optimism vs pessimism. It’s perfectly summarized in the two panel excerpts opening this post: "Sounds romantic!" "Sounds fishy.", hope vs wariness. "Meeting you was fate!" "… Which means it’s fate for you to eat these monsters, too!", if good things happening to you is fate then you must accept that all the bad things that happen to you are fate as well. It’s "Things will work out!" vs "Things will not work out".

The issue here seems rather evident, it’s a balancing game. Compromising, adapting your judgement to the situation. Yes Marcille romanticizes things too much and it can cause her trouble, and yes Chilchuck being so closed off on himself gets him into trouble as well.

(Not telling there was a mimic nearby being maybe the most straightforward example.)

His refusal to hope for anything good happening to him ever is at the core of him not having even tried reconciling with his wife (more on that later with the bicorn chapter). Through the manga, Chilchuck influences her to be more savvy and to respect boundaries more (with himself and Namari for example), while she influences him to become more open and give things a go. It’s no coincidence that it’s Marcille that pushes him to try reconciling with his wife and gives him hope that it just might work out- that that chance even on its own means it's worth giving it a shot.

The Daltian Clan & its importance

The importance of fiction in some people's lives and their specific psychological relationship to it is a very complex human brain topic with many many studies and an infinite amount of subtleties, I can't possibly do justice to this section at its full potential but I'll go over my major points. But the complex and layered nature of this relationship is why, for example, the interpretation that Marcille is a lesbian despite her likely attraction/love for male fictional characters (if not even just simping or stanning separate from those), has legs to stand on and is a compelling angle!

The Daltian Clan, often shortened as Dalclan, is Marcille's favorite book series and is very very personally important to her. In an extra we learn that part of it is that seeing a half-elf character personally reached out to her and meant a lot. She feels seen through it. Even if it's notable that the half-elf haracter isn't her favorite, general Hagreus, but the one with black hair. It's a Cinderella type of romance & convoluted political intrigue series full with a lot of drama, reminiscent of stuff like Romeo & Juliette or Richard III.

I believe that books were developmentally very important for her, similarly as to how cartoons are important to the education and development of toddlers and kids nowadays, or how oral stories like fairytales have always been important to teach lessons. Fiction engages readers and provides emotional stimulation, which can often be a flawed substitute for actual human contact- but nonetheless a big factor in socialization. For Marcille who lived in a rather rural region surrounded by books and chickens, who couldn't fit in with kids of any age around, books were a major part of teaching her how to socialize, how people and social groups worked. This is also part of why the autistic Marcille angle can be very compelling and plausible, though personally I don't see it that way.

So yes I think that sort of upbringing shaped her a lot, and I think it's part of why Marcille has trouble not putting people into boxes... Why even though Falin assured her it wasn't like that, Marcille had made this whole narrative in her mind painting Laios as a villain that stole Falin away against her will/for nefarious purposes. Why she has trouble not thinking of/treating Falin as a kid, unwilling to process how she has grown up. Why Chilchuck has to be very young in her mind, and it was very very hard for her to reconcile the fact that he wasn't. (It's actually interesting to note that Marcille treats Falin and Chilchuck similarly in a lot of ways, overstepping boundaries, being dimissive and touchy- There's a lot to say about how the party dynamic changed a lot with during canon it becoming just Laios, Marcille and Chilchuck at first and Laios' monster interest reveal, notably that in Falin's absence that she may have latched onto Chilchuck and treats him similarly to Falin may be her finding it omforting to fall into habits or filling a hole.) I think complexity in fictional characters gets her gears turning, but there's always a film of impersonality to it right, where it's not real, there's a safe distance, if you want to form romantic narratives about how things went down and a character's angst, you can, but someone who’s real… Things are often uglier or harder to grapple with. And she doesn’t want Falin to have grown up, for her to so quickly have aged. I think applying this sort of storybook veneer onto her real life connections, pushing people into boxes, is a way for her to make social relationships more digestible. And she's a big gossip enjoyer too! Engaging in shallow retellings of people's interpersonal drama, eating it up with enthusiasm and curiosity. Part of it, like with novels, is vicariously living through others I think, experiencing making connections where she hasn't or couldn't, the way her relationship with the other girls at the academy besides Falin stayed distant and shallow despite being friendly. Gossip, like stories, are safe, distant from your own life, they're easy to judge, not unlike the irl popular interest in following others’ online drama. You’re not involved yourself, so you don’t have as much chance of getting hurt. So yes, easier to digest. Less complex, less unpleasant things and less contradictions that are hard to process. Sort of like a defense mechanism to not have your worldview challenged, dodging having to recognize these things by assigning them tropes. And I think part of it too like I implied is: she can’t experience actual loss through books and gossip. They give her emotional social stimulation she doesn’t fully allow herself to have with actual humans for fear of getting invested in a way that’s very raw and personal. Again, like how she pushes Falin away to ignore the more nuanced facets to their relationship! The intensity of what I’m speculating on here in her character is debatable but I do think it’s present at least in some amount.

In a similar way to dogs being important to Laios’ social life (I made something of an analysis on that if you're interested, but this one's not relevant to what I'm talking about in this post) books are her comfort zone. If she can compare a real situation to a story it brightens everything and, well, it does make her assume things wrongly often but it also makes her able to analyze people deeply, like the roleplay-theory-speculation about Chilchuck's wife and the way she hit bullseye on how Chilchuck felt in the aftermath. But like how Marcille only agreed to wear the frog suit when the party told her it'd look cute on her, or how thinking about riding on kelpies made her excited for what previously she saw as a tedious and dreadful journey. Special interest power blast.

And this is where comes in her coworker, a disillusioned embittered man.

A guy who knows all about how messed up the world & people can be and isn't afraid to say it how it is, who in every sphere of life has field experience rather than fictional one- with romance, work, and having dreams & ambitions. Someone flawed and real, someone who won't let her interpret him however she wants without confronting her about it & challenging her to change her perspective.

It took a looot for Marcille to fully stop seeing him as a kid, and in a way I think it was necessary for the dissonance to be both this hard to reconcile and this impossible to ignore: that he truly is a middle-aged man down to his demeanor and family background but that he looks like a teen at most to her. That she literally has to look beyond aesthetics to be able to first fathom then accept and internalize that he's an adult despite his looks. That it was so ingrained and took so long, so much that even while she recognized and said "He's usually the most mature one of us", so much that even as it's implied that she knew logically he's an adult before the changelings, as pictured earlier she still couldn't conceive it. It's like with her calling Laios and Falin's parents kids in a post-canon extra, it's not that she doesn't know it's that it's hard to wrap her head around. Necessary and important because, if Chilchuck was any less loud about being a man she could have gone on unchallenged in her assumptions. If it was an easier to dismantle misconception, something easier to digest, then her arc of coming to see him as he is would have had less impact on her character, afterwards she could continue to run with her own interpretations of people like Falin and Namari without her confidence in being able to pin down people into simple roles being so fundamentally shaken. And it's notable too, that Namari's choice to leave the party to look out for herself situation was decidedly unheroic, but it was Chilchuck who spoke to Marcille about why her decision was both reasonable and had a lot of thought behind it, making her accept that it doesn't make Namari a bad person or even a bad coworker or friend.

Chilchuck is someone who knows that sometimes, bad things happen for no reason, and it's not meaningful or part of a grand narrative, it just sucks and you have to deal with it.

As the foil to her very emotional black and white interpretations of things, Chilchuck represents nuance, and he's impossible for her to ignore.

Prince Charming vs Chilchuck Tims

Chilchuck is so obviously not a prince charming. He doesn't have the looks, the attitude nor the lifestyle. Does he have the virtues for it? Well, no... But also, yes. More on that in a bit. It's also interesting to think of the status aspect to it, because being from an impoverished oppressed class/community is so central to Chilchuck's character, something usually far removed from prince charmings and white knights, and not only status wise but on the topic of virtues... It’s an interesting thread to explore, the way one may have the means to remain chivalrous rather than becoming distrustful and embittered: sometimes optimism is a sign of privilege, being able to be or remain optimistic through life. I'm sure Marcille would be the first to jump onto the aesthetic and narrative allure of a pauper in love with a princess, of a hero of the people à la Robin Hood, but it's still interesting to think of that as another facet of the contrast Chilchuck makes. Alright, tangent done.

But obviously, despite this all they have a great work dynamic and respect for each other's capabilities. It's not like Marcille is mean to people who don't fit these fairytale high standards, no that’s only when she feels wronged or if there's injustice, rather she becomes dismissive of people’s complexity, wether they become an angel like Falin or Marcille’s shapeshifter of Chilchuck or a villain like Namari and Toshiro or Laios when they met. But my point, my point: she actually thinks very highly of him!

"He’s usually the most mature one of us" "He’s dependable, we’re counting on him" "No, chilchuck is definitely virtuous."

And I think the ways in which that shows are very interesting.

^ Ok so this happens, in the Namari chapter I keep talking about. Look at his expression in this last panel. He's always teasing her, but doesn't this here feels a bit... Suggestive? Like he's implying things, not just talking about it in a work setting but also giving her general life advice. Maybe even making an innuendo for womanizers, gentlemen who flirt without meaning a thing and have some hidden agenda. Warning her about smooth talkers that seem too good to be true. It’s honestly a very easy to overlook but defining interaction for them. It’s a quote that’s on his Adventurer’s Bible plus his anime quote keychain merch!

I love his implication that "I say what I’m about straight up, money, so you can trust me"- and isn’t that just the exact thing… Because that is what this is, he’s pitting himself against these people who help without asking for anything and he's saying he’s more trustworthy and reliable than them, driving a wedge between him and those people to prop himself up by comparison. His words tie a lot here into his general worldview too, of course here he's ✨Imparting His Wisdom✨, but it also ties into his self-image issues I'd say, where he’s hard on himself and calls himself a coward etc: if no one has positive expectations for you on an interpersonal level, then you can’t disappoint them. It only goes up from here if you start at rock bottom, can't have unpleasant surprises.

But the meaningfulness of this moment doesn't start and end there: That moment happened in chapter 20, but then this happens in chapters 36-37...

I was always puzzled by the split second interaction between Marcille and Kabru. Marcille blushing is the point, it’s in the anime too and it’s the focus of the panel. That moment of hesitation before she goes back into business mode where she looks at him back, and blushes. And idk I always felt like it was weird timing, like it was a weird beat Kui chose to put emphasis on, why the story even had them make eye contact in the first place, what point it could be making besides "Kabru is handsome and charismatic" which was already made with Hien and Benichidori below, otherwise it's not even like Marcille and Kabru ever interact. Like, maybe it's for it to be a callback when she glances at him while the canaries interrogate her at Thistle's house? Regardless, she blushes, but her expression is more akin to a "Uuhh he smiled at me why’d he smile at me like that. Oh he’s kinda pretty. Well anyways-" rather than swooning or truly checking him out. She’s frowning, even. And like I said, being very naturally charming was a point already made previously.

But then… This repeated reminder that Kabru is a lady killer IS the point, Marcille reacting to him in that way IS the point. Kabru is the epitome of ‘will say they help you but has hidden motives and might betray your trust if it serves their interest’ (not a diss on him tbf he has understandable goals), he is the epitome of looking noble, welcoming and chivalrous but actually being dishonest and manipulative, and what’s important here is… Marcille turns away and sticks by Chilchuck. Of course this is logical, no one would expect her to go running to Kabru lol, but I implore you to think of the thematics of it all, a princely guy, the closest character of the cast in the flesh embodying the prince charming persona, is giving her some positive attention, and it does affect her a bit but nonetheless she turns away, and strategizes with Chilchuck instead of trusting or giving good faith or getting carried away. She chooses Chilchuck. Unlike so often, she doesn’t let aesthetics sway her here, get in the way of her better judgement, distract her from the point. She chooses not to give good faith, even if he seems charming and friendly and smiles. Marcille is serious when the situation requires it that's now new, but this is in line with the lesson he instilled earlier above. And if nothing else, Marcille has a good memory, exhibit B to come later. Here we see part of why Chilchuck was afraid of Laios or Senshi but not Marcille blurting out the wrong things with Toshiro and is party, when push comes to shove they're often on the same wavelength. Marcille and Chikchuck do strategize with specifically each other regularly, they do tend to pair up a lot after all, so this isn’t especially new, but it’s the first time there’s this sense of us vs them imo. Like how earlier Chilchuck was saying that he’s better than the smooth talker type, here we see Marcille implicitly agree.

She just has a passing glance & thought for Kabru but she knows her true allies and true values, and she wants to strategize with Chilchuck. What I am saying is that if she was given the choice to think through going with a guy that seems perfect and chivalrous like her succubus, if she was logical about it she’d pick Chilchuck over that guy actually, yeah. At the end of the day, no matter the pretty smiles, she knows who her actual friends are. Whiiich on that topic, next section!

Ideals vs desires vs wants

It's succubus analysis time

Her succubus is quite direcly a prince figure, a knight on a white horse who's come to whisk her away. He calls her princess, even! She's taken the role of Daltian Clan's protagonist, essentially. He kisses her hand, nothing short of the most classic courtly romance tropes. He's even drawn in a noticeably more shoujo style, not unlike the characters' faces in the aftermath of getting their energy sucked by succubi.

I made a whole analysis on specifically Laios’ succubus but it covers some stuff that could be interesting for this analysis as well, I’ll repeat the essential stuff tho: Their succubus all show what type of social connection they desire. Izutsumi’s is familial, Marcille wants someone she can emotionally connect with, seemingly romantic, Chilchuck wants something physical and sexual so he doesn’t have to think and worry about anything deeper (betrayal, insecurities, etc, the difficulting that come with a committed romantic relationship- also likely related to his senses & stress), and Laios wants people and friends who’ll accept him and his monster interest- platonic.

But more interesting for this analysis is how succubi work. The goal isn’t to beckon, but to incapacitate. The succubus doesn't work on the basis of rationality, it’s not a factor they go for and it’s not one they need to appeal to either, as we see. (Laios is a special case -gestures to the linked analysis- but the succubus doesn’t appeal to his rationality as much as it soothes his worries, his friends judging him etc etc, and the reason Izutsumi could remain unaffected is that there is always a half of her not enthralled by the succubus because she essentially has two souls.) Neither Marcille, Chilchuck or Izutsumi could realistically expect any of the people they saw to be real and not fake succubis. They KNOW that, they were actively preparing for the succubi to jump on them and fight back, rationally they know they're monsters! But how this monster works is that it targets deep desires within you that when face to face with it'll make you hesitate, make something in you unable to fight or flight and instead do the third instinctive option: freeze. Or especially in Laios’ case, the form gives the victim just enough confliction on the matter for them to want to believe it’s real. All they have to do is just not move, stay passive and accept the attention, so it’s not an issue of wether they reciprocate an action or run away. It's so that it shortcircuits you and leaves you open to pick like a fruit.

If this wasn’t the "reads your heart so deeply that it freezes you to the spot" monster, Chilchuck WOULDN’T be doing anything with these women. He’s been devoted to his wife even 4 years after separation on bad terms, you think he’d ever cheat on her? If this was a decision he were to make, instead of just freezing, he would reject it. In that similar way, Marcille’s succubus might not be what she’d rationally go for. You think if this was what Marcille had to choose, the person she wants most to see and at her side, her most alluring form wouldn't be Falin, alive and well? You think that wouldn't be the thing Laios truly wants most as well? And before people say that canon proved that the latter wasn't with the curse the winged lion put on him, THAT'S THE POINT!!!! You can irrationally desire things, you can desire things to degrees so deep you can’t change it even if you wish you could, but if it was truly a choice up to you, you'd choose otherwise. Laios decided to become king, even if that's a lifestyle so far from what he truly wanted, even if it is duty more than fun for him. Like how Chilchuck would choose faithfulness despite for sure having come into contact with many beauties through his four years of separation.

Ideals vs reality are a big Dunmeshi theme in general, same as wants vs needs, and you can see Marcille’s daydreams and novel themes make it an especially relevant throughline and theme for her. Not unlike how in my opinion General Hareus and Mithrun intentionally look very alike to contrast reality vs fantasy!

Marcille never reacts any particular way to Mithrun’s appearance despite the blatant resemblance, so that makes me think the point/joke is meta rather than character focused. The romanticization of elves and their societal drama in their fiction contrasting heavily with a very real and imperfect product of their military system. The canaries certainly aren’t glamorous next to whatever military Hareus is the general of. There’s even the fun little details like Hagreus’ lips being drawn with extra details because they’re full and pretty while Mithrun’s lips are drawn with extra details because they’re chapped and dehydrated. Hence the fantasy vs reality theme, both in that fantasies can be very disappointing when realized and in that they may not be what you actually want past your mind palace. Marcille doesn't even react to him- which we could almost directly parallel to how pretty young blondes is Chilchuck's type but he never seems to make a big deal of Marcille- he still wants his wife.

So yes, themes of what you actually want vs irrational cravings. Base desires vs actual wants. Needs are also separate, but not relevant for this discussion. To get to the specific definitions I’m using for the words in this section’s header, ideals vs wants vs desires: ideals are your ideal of something, the best degree to which a thing could be tailored to you, and it can be derived from both wants and desires, usually a mix of the two, but for example: I’d say the succubus is a type of ideal (the platonic ideal of allure to the victim) derived solely from desires, because a want is active rather than passive, acted upon rather than suffered, because a want unlike a desire involves thinking things through. So a want: something you want, you take actions towards getting or achieving it, it can be a very strong feeling but it’s something you pursue or wish to pursue. Finding a cure to death is a want, not wanting to be alone is a desire, see, I’m assigning desire this more primal or unchanging subconscious nature to it. On the flipside with Chilchuck, sex without ties, easy pleasure, is a desire, but the want is not having to think about his marriage situation because it’s painful, not wanting an emorional connection because it’s all the easier to be hurt with, just wanting to take his mind off of everything for a while.

Thus the succubus targets Marcille’s wish for a perfect knight who could cherish her forevermore, someone safe and known and fantastical, just hers in a way, free to see and construct however she wants because he’s a character to interpret, and it targets Chilchuck’s wish for pleasure that’ll whisk him away from the stress and pressure and reality of his life, something that’ll make him feel both good and desirable and emotionally uncompromised, not unlike what alcohol does, as he says he likes having his fine senses dulled in the changeling chapter. Idealization is twisting the image of something in your mind to be closer to what you want, but usually mostly desire on a more subconscious level, to be true, almost a wish, sometimes but not always hand in hand with idolization which is to put something on a pedestral. Idealizing things that are easier to reconcile with mostly, in Marcille’s case: it’s easier to believe that Chilchuck is very young and it’s easier to stomach that Falin hasn’t aged much, it's easier to believe Falin is an angel who can do no wrong and if she left with Laios it's not that she chose to leave Marcille, and it's easier to believe Chilchuck is just a moody closed off youngster than an embittered old man. It can be done to people as much as concepts, like the idea/plan to give everyone a 1000 years lifespan, surely that'd do really well and everyone would love it. Wants and desires are both very often about changing reality after all, wether it be your situation or an event in your past or a law of the world like death, but wants are mostly through actions and since desires are more subconscious it can lead to self-delusion easily. Like with succubi, wants engage with your rationality so they target desires instead. The demon's strategy isn't too far off, either, feeding into both and using underlying desires to manipulate its victims. Dungeon Meshi is in part yes about resisting desires, the irrational cravings, mostly through the character of the demon. I mentioned needs earlier, and to ideals vs wants we also add vs needs, both emotional and physical, and needs alongside wants are what Dungeon Meshi wishes to promote for a healthier person, Dungeon Meshi which illustrates very well with the dungeon lords that you can be a slave to your desires.

The parallel between succubi and demons is intentional. The demon is in fact the origin of the succubus myth in-world. No wonder they operate similarly in many ways- the succubi are in a way a more simple straightforward version of the demon, with less convoluted strategies and less intricate manipulation.

Of course the succubus each character sees does say something about their characters, but what I’m saying is we shouldn’t assign choice or morality to it as if it wasn’t an ethereal monster whose whole biology is focused on being able to freeze people through appealing to desires, much like how we can’t fault people for falling for demons’ manipulations. Like that’s their WHOLE thing and they use mind control through enticement shenanigans. I know people sometimes fault Chil for his succubi and if you want here’s my stance.

Point of this whole thing is, people can rationally choose things that are different from their deeper desires, like in truth Falin’s safety being more important to Laios than becoming a monster. Like how Marcille stayed with Chilchuck to strategize instead of wanting to give good faith to Kabru. Yes, this is the main point I'm coming at with this section lol. Marcille idealizes and idolizes the figure of a perfect prince charming, undoubtedly! But when it comes to what she actually wants, not in some ideal fantay world but in reality, she knows Chilchuck and her imperfect friends are some of the best she could ask for. She's content with them as they are. She would choose a flawed reality over a perfect fantasy.

That's a big part of what her dungeon lord arc is about too, all her tendencies to ignore what others want for what she thinks is best for them or thinks is a perfect course of action: accepting that people are complex with different wants, and that something that's a no-brainer to her like wanting to live for a long long time is a solid no for many. And Laios and the party confront her about it, and Marcille, even under the influence of a demon, chooses to accept reality. Chooses to accept that there are some things that, even were she to be able to, she shouldn’t change after all (even for stuff that’s not forcing everyone to live for a millenium, like bringing Falin back from the dead is something that the party and Marcille had to come to terms with maybe not working and the way they went about it was self-centered). She chooses to come back to herself and the party, to accept the world as it is even if flawed and sometimes hurtful.

And hm, I wonder if Chilchuck had any role in the lead up to that particular decision... I wonder if Chilchuck was a major influence in teaching Marcille that the world isn't perfect and her internalizing things that were outside of her bubble!! I wonder if Chilchuck was directly what made Macille turn towards her party and thus start thinking of giving up on being dungeon lord!! Joking, joking, of course it does. To be continued, see you in the princess imagery section at the end of this essay.

Essentially, this section is to show that: 1) despite what her succubus may suggest, she has indeed grown by that point in the manga compared to pre-canon and her overly idealistic simple black and white vision of things, and it doesn't prove the ‘choosing her friends over a prince thing’ wrong, and 2) despite how deeply ingrained romanticism is in her and how it calls out to her, she still has chosen and continues to choose reality and her friends over it. How fantasy is important to her and how much she loves it, and her having the will not to mindlessly succumb to it coexist and it's that resistance against fantastical ideals that speaks of her as a character so much.

And what does that mean, for Chilchuck? For him and Marcille?

Deconstructing realistic romance AKA compromising between romanticism and reality AKA Chilchuck Tims vs Prince Charming part 2

So what we’ve covered so far is that 1: idealization is something that Marcille does a lot, including concerning Chilchuck, 2: the prince/knight figure is meaningful & important to her, 3: Marcille isn’t a lost cause on it, and for instance, much like how she stops harping on Namari after Chilchuck explains to her how professional reputations and networking work, he can change her mind on things.

Let’s get back to their prejudices of each other for a bit. You might have to zoom in for this one.

Her shapeshifters of both Chil and Laios are influenced a lot by looks and impressions. She’s very adamant about Laios and Falin not looking alike at all, for one. Marcille’s view of Chilchuck’s lockpicks are surprisingly accurate. Meanwhile, despite their first big relationship moment during canon being about how he’s glad to have her and her skills for the dungeon dive, he still ridiculizes her magic somewhat with the crude spellbook. She’s still silly and tease-worthy to him, even while he praises her like in the good medicine chapter with Leed he says it himself in the same breath. Silly, or "ridiculous" depending on the translation, is somewhat ambiguous, but I assign it the meaning of 'thoughtlessly reckless', like how again in the good medicine chapter when he's saying this he's referring to Marcille's future job prospects, because law and career are important to conform to for him. Despite this, their shapeshifters’ behaviors are accurate, although Marcille’s Chilchuck is nicer and less bitterly reclusive. Note how it's Marcille's chilchuck that makes it furthest and how why she thinks hers is the true one is that her Chilchuck "looks less mean"- this is what I mean when I say she idealizes him and sees him as a little angel, along with his fluffier hair it gives us the perspective of why she'd find him so hair-ruffable and why she likes sticking to him so much, I suppose.

Marcille's arc of not seeing Chilchuck for what he is has steps, it's not like Senshi who does an 180 seeing his changeling. There are a couple of important moments for it that tell us her progress and changes her perspective: Him telling his age -> the shapeshifters (our best look into an objective assessment of her perspective) -> reveal that he has a wife and kid(s) (fully shattering her denial) -> seeing him as a changeling (true reckoning. Putting the nail in the coffin of what reality is) -> bicorn chapter (acceptance. Internalization)

You might notice that the explanation for Marcille’s Chilchuck is "Even though she’s been told he’s an adult, deep in her heart she still doesn’t get it", and a fantranslation translates it as "Understands he’s supposed to be an adult, but hasn’t quite come to grips with the fact internally". This definitely implies her arc of growing to see him as an adult had already started by then. Especially if we compare it to Senshi’s more intense babyfied Chilchuck. This goes back to what I was saying about Marcille watering down people for the sake of aesthetics, some rational part of her knows he’s an adult, but it’s emotionally that she struggles to reconcile the fact with her perspective. It’s actually pretty ambiguous when she first starts considering he might be an adult. If by this point she was already digesting it, then I think it must’ve been when he told the party his age. It’s not unsimilar to rationally knowing Falin is an adult at 23 even if it doesn’t feel like it to her, or post-canon calling the Touden parents kids even though obviously she’d know they aren’t actually, it’s classic longlived race patronization. He’s older than Falin, by 6 whole years, and even Marcille isn’t that blind to what that'd mean. Wouldn't marcille also have a problem with child labor otherwise? There's also how Marcille pre-canon shortly speculated Chilchuck was in love with Namari in her Adventurer's Bible extra. She for sure has witnessed a lot of half-foots walking around, probably even drinking at taverns. She knows, on some level. Chilchuck even does a whole rant after they react going on "this is why long lived races are condescending assholes". So that’s my bet, "Is he an adult?" "Well yes but actually no" (Chilchuck), "I’m an adult now I’ve grown" "Awww you’ll always be like a kid to me!" (Falin) Depending on the dub and interpretation, I know for example that when I made my family watch the anime they thought Marcille "See? You're just a kid!" after he said he was 29 they saw it as teasing and playful, unserious, or even disappointed, implying she'd have thought he was older than 29. It's actually ironic how someone as developmentally atypical as Marcille, whose physical and mental growth was unpredictable, unsynchronized and messy, would judge others by appearance and age so much. But well imo appearances are important to her so in that way, she especially judges those because she had to live through being judged by those standards as well. She puts elven standards on everyone the same way she does with beauty standards, so age is included in that.

Marcille here is struggling with dissonance, it's why she "hasn't come to grips with the fact internally". And this all makes sense for the arc that sharing things about himself is what opened the gates of being understood better. Point is, her vision is influenced by her own feelings of how things should be like, veiling herself to the reality of things.

And notice the point that the problem her lack of rationale when it comes people- Chilchuck regularly makes her prioritize rationality over feelings, and well that’s somewhat his whole schtick when it comes to debating philosophy. With Namari and how her leaving the party and not returning is reasonable even if it feels wrong, just like the "don’t trust someone just because they seem well-meaning and generous, strategize instead of swooning", and ironically also the "it's important to take in mind how things like touch when healing can affect parties and create love triangles" lol, "don't be emotional, and also remember people being emotional will stirr up shit". Since she’s someone pretty swayed by feelings, it balances her out. Ultimately, if we consider the Dungeon Lord arc her culmination, it’s Chilchuck who ends her arc by meeting her halfway through appealing out to her feelings, but that’s the flipside of the coin of their arc, and it’s her willpower to face reality that saves them so I don’t think that contradicts that Marcille had to do her half of the journey & comprise.

I would argue there are many hints of Marcille knowing on some level he's an adult throughout early canon. Not just seriously calling him the most mature of the group, but her behavior at the Golden Kingdom's too for example. Would you act all shy asking a kid to sleep in his bed, especially one she's always felt so comfortable trampling the boundaries of and touching casually? Idk that's weird. She's asking to sleep in his bed because by her own admition it'd make her feel more comfortable. Chilchuck is safe to her and she feels shy implying it and asking for a favor like that. Shy that he'd find her silly for it, and/or shy that this might be inappropriate according to etiquette and in other contexts. To me this feels much closer to two peers, like how in the mandrake chapter she wanted validation from him too, and yes she still infantilizes him and emasculates him into someone who's harmless in her mind- not just someone who wouldn't hurt or take advantage of her, because she knows that, because Chilchuck does protect her (more on that later!!).

He's not heroic, but he's brave, when it matters. He's mean and rude, but also caring. He's responsible, even when it means going the unpleasant route. The aesthetic doesn’t fit the role, but the actions do.

He keeps claiming he’s a selfish coward who’ll be the first to dip in a fight, and yet he’s always, consistently pulling her out of danger, or specifically calling out to Marcille when danger strikes. And I think it’s because of the nugget of info we get in the adventurer’s bible that her stamina and athletics are bad, in canon he does call her clumsyhead like once but it never felt enough for me to deduce that on its own personally. So then the reason why he’s always targeting her, beyond the reasoning that she’s the healer thus the most important to keep alive (which he brings up in the rabbits chapter), he takes it upon himself to help her, save her and pull her away from danger because she’s clumsy. She’s not defenseless, she’s known to use explosions, and still he feels the need to save her and through the manga he’s even died trying to pull her to safety one and a half times: dungeon rabbits + the drowning- they didn’t die in the latter though it’d have gone that way if it weren’t for the water bursting out just after, and that situation was especially hopeless regarding Chikchuck being able to do anything to save her at all, yet he still tried.

A little knight in shining armor, a little noble hero, a little prince charming innit?

Chilchuck IS all show and no talk- and she knows the value of that!!! It's why despite all his sour demeanor she respects him both professionally and as a smart guy she can trust, why she feels safe with him and wants him by her side when strategizing or even sleeping. The aesthetic doesn’t fit the role, but the actions do. Fantasy vs reality!!! He teaches her how to face reality both with his words and actions, through the contradictions of him, his caring behavior and bitter words, his old manners and young looks!

And actually let's TALK about that drowning scene hello. There, in the collage above, in the bottom left. The context of that is: This is after the demon leaves when the dungeon collapses, the dungeon gets flooded by water and they go under, with no sense of where or how there could be an exit to this. 1: Since the dungeon is collapsing and reviving someone only works in dungeons, there is no guarantee that Marcille or anyone would be able to revive someone during or after this, NONE. 2: He is risking his life for her, he is STRAIGHT UP playing his life on this choice, action hits and shit gets more serious than it ever has, and he yet does it anyways. Perhaps it's the gravity of it that pushes him to make this choice, that this time if someone dies it's for real and he can't accept that, but either way his choice is made in a split second, he prefers dying trying to save her than living without saving her. He is fighting for scraps of hope, seconds more of holding onto life. Which, 3: This situation is HOPELESS. In the end yes they end up being spat out by some exit out the dungeon with the strenght of the flood, but there was no way to know this would happen, and like we see in the third panel Chilchuck and the others actually lose consciousness. That's for "a way out of this", but even moreso, what is he hoping to accomplish? He's small and weak like he always reminded the party in fights, he CANNOT PULL HER UP TO SAFETY, HE CANNOT PULL HER AT ALL, WE SEE HIM STRUGGLE TO AND FAIL. HE CAN'T DO ANYTHING BUT HE STILL TRIES DESPITE THE RISK. You might also say- haha!! You might also say that this is a show of optimism from him!! You could say that after Marcille changed him, pushed him to have more hope in him, he now has the strenght and will to hope that this might do anything, that this might save her! A little similar to the situation with his wife actually, the point is that the chance is worth taking even if it might not turn out like hoped for- the point is that it's always worth trying and keeping hope to fight on, there is risk in being vulnerable and reaching out to his wife yes, there is risk, as with jobs, as with finances, as with anything- It's not that you'll never fail, but you have to not give up when you do- there's a risk but you can't just shut yourself off to the world and to relationships, you can't suddenly care about nothing! That's Chilchuck's arc! And maybe it's because his arc of becoming more hopeful and open yourself to caring centers her that it's her he latches onto here and not Senshi and Izutsumi who are equally in trouble here, maybe it's because he knew her longest or because he still feels this sense he has to look out for her like always, or because he trusts her to breathe underwater least, I don't know, but it's what happens! And listen, by all intent and purposes it was a hopeless situation, they were on the verge of drowning but he still fights to save her, and everything looks lost for a sec, but then the water current miracurously spits them out of the crumbling dungeon. He gets up and he runs to marcille fearing she's hurt but no, they're saved, she's fine, they're all alive and out of danger. It worked out. Having hope was right.

They make me ill I tell you. Like what the HELL, am I supposed to NOT go crazy when this happens??! What if they were the meaning of life what if their arc was about cracking the balance of living and loving healthily and cracking the code of life. Okay. Okay okay okay so anyways so

He can be quite self-sacrificial and noble! Always looking out for others, and giving Marcille particular attention in that regard, likely in part due to her being clumsy in his eyes and her being the healer aka their token of safety.

Sit your ass back DOWN you are in no state sir. Despite her biases Marcille is still observant, she still loves dissecting people like in that pre-canon party relationships chart in her extra, she's still the one to say "Chilchuck is the most mature here". Marcille still notices things! She has an interest in people and Chilchuck is someone she especially likes to "study". She read him like a book in the bicorn chapter, and if she was able to it’s that she looked, she remembered, she saw. The way he doesn’t like waiting on people, that he’s very reserved with feelings, the way he often doesn't pick up on others' and even his own- It all comes through in her quote unquote analysis of him, what married life with him would be like and how he reacted to his wife leaving.

Point is, Chilchuck is very harsh on himself, but there are gems inside of him, there is gold hidden away if you dig at his heart. And point is, Marcille is good at highlighting those. And besides, isn’t humility a mark of heroes?

Okay. Sooo there's not that much to say about the changeling scene actually, for both Senshi and Marcille, the chapter just previous where Chilchuck reveals he has a wife and kid is what fully reckons them with how Chilchuck is a fully fledged adult, and for both of them seeing Chilchuck as a tallman is the final nail in the coffin. With Senshi it's a rather fast 180, and he mourns the sweet kid image he had of him where he poked his cheek and ruffled his hair, but for Marcille it's just an extra "he's really really REALLY really not a kid. Really". It has a bit of a reversal of Marcille and Chilchuck's dynamic, since now he can manhandle her instead of her manhandling him. This is a rather pleasant experience for him from what we can tell, whereas Marcille is struggling to keep the party's walking pace and complains about the heat implying half-foots are more sensitive to temperatures, Chilchuck finds having his senses dulled relaxing, has no problem of the sort Marcille is having AND! And! He can pull her around. The fight with gargoyles happen and he's pulling her arms, picking her up, he even throws her both before it and during the fight, he has the physical power to push her away if he wants to and also to pull her out of danger- the way he later tries to in the rabbit chapters and with drowning, but also when the Faligon reveal happens. He still doesn't look like a knight in shining armor, and he still doesn't have the demeanor of one, but he has the most power to protect her than he ever has. Anyways so yes, further "oh Chilchuck is an adult. And he's kinda knightly and can protect me wow. And also ugly not at all like elven beauty ewwwwww. I won't be able to unsee it now if I try to ruffle his hair after this".

It’s always a question of seeing more facets to someone and slowly digesting them and internalizing them, like Kui puts it herself in the shapeshifter explanation for Marcille's Chilchuck. And this illustrates a bit what I was saying in the section about Dalclan and tropes and people being "digestible" to her. She has to get used to the idea first and it's a slow process.

And during the succubus chapter as well, right after the bicorn chapter where she fully accepted Chilchuck as an adult, Marcille doesn’t falter when she’s confronted with seeing Chilchuck as, for a lack of a better term, a sexual being. She even cracks a (albeit sfw) playful quip about it, about them being all blondes. I suppose with the crass jokes he made like during the frog comic that might have prepped her for it lol.

And on that topic... We're here guys. The holy grail of Marcille and Chilchuck.

🔥The bicorn chapter🔥

The chapter finishes both Marcille and Chilchuck's arcs about harmful idealization vs not being a doomer, so to speak. It's the culmination, the ultimate balance found, the moment where the lesson gets fully internalized on both sides at the same time. It is a MASTERCLASS in how to do relationships arcs and character studies.

Chilchuck starts the chapter being dismissive of Marcille and her interests again, it opens with a narrated bit about his bad experiences with romance in past parties and he admits he has contempt for people who find the topic of love fun. He sees her still a bit as both a fly circling around him and a venus fly trap waiting for the opportunity to pounce on him and not let go until he spills everything. He ends it though, willingly giving up information on him in conversation with her, opening up, and appreciating her perspective on his romantic troubles.

Marcille starts the chapter having mostly processed that he's an adult, asking him about his wife, but she's still Weird about him and his personal life- and okay, that doesn't quite change, but something does change- everything changes for a moment, in fact.

And what's the catalyst? The cataclysm, even? Chilchuck lies and says he cheated on his wife.

[Okay guys I am officially out of pic space, sorry but I'll have to start recurringly linking to images instead: page]

We get to see live Marcille's esteem for Chilchuck plummet and freefall to the ground. And Chilchuck often acts like hassling and teasing between them is onesided, that she's always the one harassing him, but since early manga Chilchuck has always liked to tease her every opportunity he gets, often initiating interaction just for it... During half of this chapter Marcille is giving him the cold shoulder and we get to see that he misses her, we get to see her fully shut down the (racist) joke he throws at her and see him be SHAKEN over it. He wasn't expecting his lie to tank his reputation and relationship with the party members this much, maybe because before whenever he called himself selfish and cowardly no one seemed to think less of him for it, and he's at a loss for what to do like we see here. He misses their friendship. He's always said he didn't care for having a friendship with them all and whatnot, but here we see him grapple of the aftermath, of knowing what it would be like without them as friends, without them at all.

[page 1, page 2.]

And like with his wife, he has a choice to make. Be passive and spiteful and do nothing, or be vulnerable and communicate to win them back over. And this time, after a manga's length of learning little by little to be more open (and literal coercive torture) he chooses to do it, to try and clear up the misunderstanding.

And listen, on Marcille's end this was NEEDED. He DROPS in her eyes to deserving no respect- but even in these times we see her be jealous of Chilchuck opening up to Senshi, implicitly still caring about what he thinks of her, and most importantly that she does still care about him himself when the bicorn breaks his arm and she runs to his side to heal him, worried. Why was this needed? Because Marcille was forced to have her full, complete vision of Chilchuck shattered. Not only is Chilchuck not little in her eyes anymore, but he's also no angel. He can MASSIVELY- borderline unforgivably- mess up. He is an adult who can royally fuck up, even be immoral. She calls him a depraved adult man.

It sounds negative, but what this does is actually strip him from any idealization and infantilization in her eyes. Is there something more adult than adultery? Is there something less honorable, less wholesome? In this chapter Marcille is forced to reconcile the Chilchuck she knows with this man who did something vile to his wife, even the mother of his child.

And then Chilchuck clears things up, he takes the risk of an argument and actual rejection and sacrifices the secrecy around his family situation to make up with her. And it works. Instantly.

And so he goes "Okay so one day she left me and I have no idea why, probably for no reason. The end. What a petty thing to do am I right. We'll probably never talk again." and she's like "Bet? Actually I have several ideas as to what could have happened and you WILL listen."

(For a Chil & Chilwife analysis go over here instead btw.)

She was always perceptive, but she always had a bias that made her vision of others flawed. Her lens of novel worlds and narratives. Remove, or at least shift that bias in a productive direction, and you get a strength rather than an hindrance. The skill of self-inserting (literally. The half-foot depicted as his wife is even literally Marcille a a half-foot, and his child looks just like him, to show just how good her imagination is lmaoo) Marcille is such the "If I wanna hit the ball… I must become the ball" type. As proven by how she controlled her familiars in the hypogriff chapter. "If I were your wife I’d be overjoyed to go out with you and would get myself prettied up while you complain about me taking a long time, your friends would tell me that I’m cute and nice and that’d make me happy, but I’d also be sad because you wouldn’t tell me that you love me enough. Then I'd leave to test your love, and you're failing that test rn but if you came back to me even after a long time I'd take you back for sure." And see these! See Chilchuck frowning there in how she thinks of him, how he gets peeved when she takes time to get ready.

No because, this means everything. Marcille started out the manga thinking he was just a kid with a party pooper attitude and even in the shapeshifter chapter where she’s more coming to terms with her having been wrong about him, her shapeshifter of him is sweet and cute and nicer like "No the REAL Chilchuck is much less nasty! ☺️". But in the bicorn chapter it all comes to a head!! Learning that "Chilchuck cheated on his wife" made her esteem of him tank to rock bottom almost, finally acknowledging that Chilchuck can both make adult mistakes and be significantly flawed. But then! The chapter ends by him opening up which in turn make her esteem of him comes back up, but things have changed, still. What she does with her "virtuous husband" bit might seem like idealization again, and she is being optimistic about the wife'smotives, but she’s not making him into something he’s not! She recognizes his flaws (embraces them even.) Like how as the wife she thinks of an angry/frowning chilchuck, how he complains about waiting on her, which he's also done to Marcille before...

Even the way she says "he wouldn't say that he loves me enough" IS DIRECTLY SOMETHING FROM HER OWN EXPERIENCE FROM THE MANDRAKE CHAPTER. Because then she wanted to hear from his mouth with his words that he does value her, that he does appreciate her, that she's not a burden to them! She knows how it can feel like he doesn't appreciate you even when he does, and how insecure it can make someone! Now when she flavors things, she takes the embellishments from her own experiences instead of from novels! Reality, too, can be romanticized without becoming pure fantasy. Fantasy doesn't have to be dry and bitter, it can be beautiful and fun, too. Her "if I was your wife, life would be something like this and I'd feel like this" is truly based on her own perspective and feelings- her empathy and interest in others is not a weakness like Chilchuck thought, it's borderline a superpower.

She doesn't just keep his flaws in mind, she also hypes up his qualities!! He is virtuous, bicorn approved, devoted even after separation!! And that hyping up, and optimism that things wouldn’t necessarily go bad if he tried to mend things with his wife, really gave him hope, and also finished up his arc about optimism not always being bad, sometimes even being necessary.

She inspires him to think that things can work out, that he can still be pleasantly surprised even with all his bitterness. After all, he opened up to Marcille and they talked just now, and she forgave him and they made up, didn't they?

And he must have never quite let go of all hope, must stil lhave some left in him hidden somewhere, because in all those four years of separation never has he stopped calling her his wife in present tense, because even after all of them he has stayed faithful and never moved on.

And all of this with the chapter ending with Chilchuck eating a sweet and savory sandwich, which he thought would be bad and inspired disgust in him at first, and being like "Huh, the sweetness actually complements the bitterness pretty well."

THE SANDWICH IS THEM. "Syrup in a sandwich? Sweetness has nothing to do in a meal." IT'S OPTIMISM AND PESSIMISM COEXISTING. IT'S SWEETNESS AND BITTERNESS BOTH HAVING THEIR PLACE IN A DISH. IT'S MARCILLE AND CHILCHUCK COMING TOGETHER TO HAVE THE RIGHT BALANCE FOR HIM TO BE ABLE TO SAY "It might not go well like in stories, but I'll still try".

Remember what i said about compromises earlier, balance of optimism and pessimism? He tries it, and it works out despite having no faith that it’ll be good, and he’s pleasantly surprised. SURPRISES CAN BE PLEASANT! They're not just life-shattering, not just dangerous, it is possible to be pleasantly surprised! And this is why Kui is a goddess of telling stories through food.

He’s opening up to her, as he takes that last bite of the sandwich, he willingly and easily gives up an information about his family for the first time <3

And this isn't only chilchuck adopting her perspective either, it's him completing it. Marcille still simplified the conflict between him and his wife, still couldn't have the whole picture, still put a positive and hopeful and romantic twist on it all, but she did have a point. Chilchuck reaches her halfway, is inspired by her, but he also complements her, says okay, but also this, also it might not go as well as that, not going against it but building on top of it, not trying to replace it but instead this optimism and cynicism coexisting, joining together. Marcille brings him back to the reality that he doesn't suck as much as he thinks and things aren't doomed, but he also brings her back to the reality that that may not be enough, and in that uncertainty called life they're learning to be okay with it, to smile about it, to want to be part of it, hearts open.

Notice how she defends his virtues directly taking from Daltian Clan for her reasoning, as well! Comparing chilchuck to her novel characters to explain him, rather than overwrite him.

She’s such a wingwoman. Such a cheerleader. Couple therapist. Emotional support friend. 10/10.

Marcille: "he has a shitty personality sometimes but if he was my husband I’d still cherish him" Chilchuck: "damn I needed that" /hj

So this neatly ties the last bits of Chilchuck's reluctance to care about others and being cared about in turn, yes yes Marcille reads him like a book so well that he's left shaking, and this is it, really, their arc is about the balance in loving too much and loving too little, in stifling others with that love and care and interest the way Marcille does vs showing it so little that others don't even know if he cares at all, à la “if we want the rewards of being loved, we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.”

Marcille has a whole theme with the prince charming trope, with her idealization and storybook motif and this is sort of the "Well someone perfect like that isn’t very realistic and romance is usually more complex- and that’s ok and good, and flawed people can still be ✨virtuous✨" conclusion. Again, fantasy doesn't have to be perfect to be worth it, to be valuable and lovable and great and precious.

He’s the devoted virtuous man that she wants not the storybook prince that’s unrealistic and could crumble like a script at any time. He’s the perfect example of a flawed realistic but virtuous and devoted and loving family man. Far, far from a prince charming, but not fully detached from it either. Something worth fighting for despite the flawed cracks.

Marcille has this grand fantasy, this ideal of prince charming, a chivalrous gentleman knight, but through canon especially with Chilchuck she learns to not idealize people so much. That acts are more important than aesthetics. The bicorn chapter is all about Chilchuck’s romance being realistic: flawed. And it’s no coincidence that this is what ties their interwoven arc closed, because they learn to compromise, his pessimism and her optimism. Marcille sees and recognizes a romance that is both flawed and beautiful and is able to balance the two decently, meanwhile she convinces Chilchuck that yes it is worth fighting for and having hope for. Repeating myself but it’s easy to think she’s still idealizing Chilchuck during the bicorn chapter, BUT it’s important to notice the differences with the shapeshifter chapter, where her shapeshifter of him was "cute/sweet" "not nasty", an angel who could do no wrong. In the bicorn chapter, not only does he fall from her esteem a lot because she believes he cheated for a good part of it, thus acknowledging that he can be flawed and adult enough to commit adultery, but also! When she roleplays as his wife, she doesn’t erase his flaws!! She knows he has a short fuse and isn’t always pleasant, but believes that he’s worth loving anyways… 

And see this is the point!! She romanticizes his life, not idealizes it. The difference may be subtle, but it's there. In romanticization there's how Ghibli depicts mundane scenes of daily life, portrays doing chores like cleaning clothes as something that feels good, something worth doing that doesn't have to be miserable. In Chilchuck's life, in his flawed relationship with his wife, she sees the beauty and light and love to highlight so even if the lifestyle is humble and even if the relationship is tense it seems nice, it seems worth fighting for. She's using aesthetics again, but to inspire instead of stifle, the way she uses them to hype herself up sometimes too.

This is it this is the thing! Her worshipping and idealizing the image of perfect prince charming that will whisk you away on an ethereal romance becomes her romanticizing a realistic flawed middle aged dad with personality issues and a failing marriage, that he still is worthy of love and having his cute grand romance story and his happy ending!!

Marcille has a very hard time conceptualizing a point where love can’t conquer all, right. She’s optimistic and if there’s a will there’s a way etc etc etc. Notably when Marcille speculated about Chil’s wife, she centered around the theory that his wife wanted to "test" him by leaving, that she didn’t feel loved and left to see if he’d chase after her. She believes that his wife would be ecstatic to see him again and reaching out would make them reconcile and happily get back together, no problem. Chilchuck and his wife have been separated for 4 years. When Falin left the academy she and Marcille were separated for 4 years. Marcille has to believe Chil’s wife is waiting for him, that she hasn’t moved on, that she wants to be found. There's a different perspective on time, but there's also... Just parallels. Parallels everywhere. Miss coping, meet coping in an opposite way! And so she teaches Chilchuck to not assume everything is lost before having even tried, and so he teaches Marcille to let go when it's needed.

And please notice how she doesn't even really think his wife may have just wanted to leave him, no the goal was for them to be reunited with their love strenghtened- Combined with her glazing Chilchuck, the underlying energy is that to her someone not wanting to be with Chilchuck, wanting to break off things with him and leave, is unthinkable. For sure she'll be overjoyed to see you, for sure she's just waiting for you to come back to her! Is there a sign of higher faith in him, of higher fondness? There's respect and like and loyalty there. She truly values Chilchuck, always has but it keeps only getting more and more cemented, more and more real the more he opens up and she gets to know him. It's embarrassing for people to know your wife left you? Think again! You've just gained 50 friendship points with your trendiest friend and she has categorized you as a catch!

She specifically loves characters who think they can’t be loved and pessimistic and dramatic… And story-fying him is literally what she does when she engages with the story of his breakup with his wife like it’s a story to decode, reinforcing the whole narrative about tropes and princes and how he comes to shape her view on them.

Even if the context here is explicitly that she relates! Which, she finds being able to relate to them comforting and a positive point so it being a "type" thing isn’t fully off- but this is what I mean when I say she always keeps a film of emotional distance from people, she wants to love and be loved and know people on the deepest level possible so bad but it’s something that scares her too so she prefers to chase after the safe: the unreachable- the fictional. Like Chilchuck. Bit of tangential speculation, but she wants to crack his shell and make him open up- but it’s also easier because he pulls away instead of pulling in/closer so the relationship is fully in her control in that way, if it weren’t for the teasing… Making her into someone silly in his mind is how he keeps himself from putting weight into her words, how he gets himself to automatically dismiss the wise lessons she tries to instill to him, nope sir he doesn't have anything left to learn, he's an old crouton who understands everything there is to know about this cruel cruel life yes sir. Because trying and being rejected hurts! Because if it wasn't fated to turn out wrong, then it means there was luck or choice, and that makes failures almost more painful! But people leave!! People leave and people come back and new meetings happen and choices are good, choices shouldn't be taken away! Not like how Marcille tries to forcefeed immortality to humanity, as a dungeon lord...

The chapter ends with a panel of Marcille and Chilchuck bantering again, with everyone else going about their business seeming nonplussed while the two are being very loud as if to say, ah, classic them. Return to normalcy, return to their usual closeness and shenanigans. All is well.

The Princess imagery

And now we’re falling into the rabbithole. Imagery doesn’t have to be anything more than imagery, but I discuss romantic connotations in this section (amongst the platonic reality of things ofc), you can skip to the conclusion if you’d rather but you will miss important analysis of the dungeon lord balcony scene, a big piece of the puzzle in wrapping it all up. I found the meaning of life & the world in marchil but it’s ok I get it if you wouldn’t... We're all built different ig. The character with princely chilvalrous knight parallels in the manga is moreso Laios, but Laios too breaks the trope a lot. Chilchuck gets prince and knight parallels but by contrast instead, in subtext more than any explicitly drawn. There's a lot to Marcille's princess imagery and though I've never fully covered it I try to somewhat tackle it here.

For as much as the bicorn chapter is what ends their arc about balancing pessimism and optimism and finding healthy compromises, the arc of their RELATIONSHIP is in the dungeon lord chapter where he fully opens up to her, inviting her to meet his family and all. AND MY GOD, the princess imagery!!

Listen I am trying so hard to keep this unromantic, and to be clear subtext is subtext for a reason, it doesn’t have to be concreticized or "acted upon" perse, but… I think it’s there in this scene, at least a bit. I’ve spent a long time trying to pin down what was so charged in it, besides both of them blushing, despite him offering for her to meet his family, despite it calling out to a genuine deep instilled desire in her heart enough for it to work- for it to make her turn towards them, despite the first thing she does after is shower him in romantic gifts, and it eventually struck me… It’s the parallels with other media, with tropes!! This is HIGHKEY Romeo and Juliet type shit!!! The stuff you see in every couple new kinda trashy romance kids movies! A lady, stashed away in a high tower by her lonesome, waiting for someone to call out to her from below… Romeo courting type shit with a heartfelt spiel implicit confession from underneath her balcony, offering him flowers because he succeeded in calling out to her heart…….. And they have to CLIMB to her.

Remember her succubus' words? "Oh, princess... I can't believe you slipped away from the castle yet again... Honestly, what in the world shall we do with you...? Come, let us return." Again like with her succubus, she’s living through a storybook trope but with Chilchuck’s twist, more nuanced and realistic yet just as meaningful, even if it isn’t strictly OR at all romantic and if it’s more complicated and less glamorous. She’d have to peel the layers to get to the vulnerable truth of it, like anything else. I'm just gonna drop this here...

Doesn’t it sound like a proposal. One that’s both so storybook-like, and contrasted with such real yet unromantic and grounded words, all about the implications rather than in your face grand gestures "Don’t you want to meet my family?". They literally have an arc about the topic of romance and this is the climax/pinnacle of it like god?? I’m not saying this was all intentionally crafted to be romantic but it nonetheless exists in the subtext, ripe for analysis. Of course they talk about planning together his reconciliation wit hhis wife, but the same thing happens regardless, he fully lets her into his life.

And again there’s something to be said about how that is what makes her finally turn around! This is extremely meaningful not only to Chil but to Marcille, the enticing thing that finally hooks her, gets her to finally look down at them. An offer to meet a flawed man’s flawed family, to help him mend it and its issues. It isn’t through the filter of a book, or mere gossip to her, she knows this man and she wants to be involved in his life, to know him and his family herself, ready to meet them and form connections. The clumsy, imperfect reality of a friend telling her he’ll let her into the other spheres of his life even if that means she witnesses the embarrassing and the ugly. It’s vulnerability on both their ends, offered and received, a gambit that was worth taking, both in the moment to talk Marcille out of being dunlord and long term of letting her in to see the deeper sides of him, there are take backsies once someone knows something about you after all. SHE STOPS BEING A DUNGEON LORD IN GOOD PART BECAUSE HE TOLD HER HE'D LET HER INTO HIS LIFE. SAY IT WITH ME, A FLAWED REALITY IS WORTH IT MORE THAN STAYING IN FANTASY!!!! In denial of reality, both that Falin hasn't grown older, that everything can turn out perfectly, and that everything is lost and there's nothing Chilchuck can do to make his wife love him again or even make his party listen to him.

Chilchuck says this after he sees her materialize her parents as doppelgangers. And so he goes on to say- hey your family will never go back to how it was when you were young, my family will never be what it once was either, but we can both move on and make the best of what we have anyways, isn’t that what you taught me, there are more out there! I’m opening up myself to new relationships and friendships because of your pushes, and now I want you to do the same! Life goes on and there’s always more joy and connections to be had! Stop isolating yourself, dammit!

And the thing too with Marcille’s arc is that she can’t get what she wants. She can’t. She can’t get everyone to live forever if she doesn’t take others’ free will away, if she doesn’t make the world stop for her as she plays god with the laws of nature and the cycle of life. And everyone’s important to that arc obviously, Falin during the story is the main object of that fear, and it’s moreso her death that pushes her arc along but it’s still extremely influential, Laios is the main one who sees her insecurities and talks her down, Senshi’s always harping on ecosystems and laws of nature and how resurrections aren’t natural and is there to offer comfort and support, Izutsumi’s someone new Marcille gets to take care of and her farewell talk with her reveals a lot about how she’s grown, but seeing this it’s easy to see why Chilchuck is paired off so much with her on their respective arcs, right? The one who tells it harshly how it is even when the reality is unpleasant, who gives up quickly when it's about things turning good for him but who always pushes and fights on when it matters with the party, who challenges a rose tinted glasses perspective head on.

He looks nothing like a knight but he still acts like one. He’s nothing like a prince or a dashing romantic courting lover but still he gives her a novel worthy balcony heart to heart scene. He’s painfully real and raw but she does bring that twinkle of hope and romantization that makes the world feel more wonderful to him, but like she tells him, he’s virtuous and he should give things a shot because people see good in him too and not only the bad he always shittalks himself for, she’s not making it up, he always had that sparkle of knight and prince in him.

Like, giving someone a handkerchief is literally a romance trope associated with nobles and princes. And Chilchuck has offered Marcille his handkerchief at least twice! The second time in the cockatrice chapter as a bandage. He keeps it in his pouch, with his tools, like the most must-have to offer it Marcille at any moment, ha /j. Prince behavior <3 The neckband like a knight’s favour, a token from a loved one he cherishes above all and keeps on himself at all times... Which I'll remind in her Chilwife roleplay she directly theorizes she was the one to knit it for him! Beautiful story tropes shit.

He IS a prince figure instead that now it’s not about idealizing the grand and overt it’s about romanticizing the small things in real life!! About finding joy and beauty in things that seem normal or mundane and uplifting them to make the world feel kinder!!!!

And man this whole angle makes the "Don’t you want to meet my family?" "-gasp- I really do want to! -turns away from eldritch power and living in her demon-made dreamscape that can allow her to live in fantasy to instead go back to flawed reality with her friends-" all that more meaningful and striking. A fitting end to her arc, a fitting hook to get her to turn back towards her and tempt her to give up on being dungeon lord. It’s always been just asking things and anecdotes about him and his family, never talking about meeting them, but by having someone so "fated with doomed love" open up and reach out to her "fated to never love", she opens up too, is willing to take the risk that any relationship entails, the same one that he took by offering it, the same risk they’re both averse to and scared of, loss and rejection. By actually meeting his family she involves herself in the stories she creates. It makes them real. She’s finally involving herself intimately with others, despite the real threat of loss that she will have to experience, wether through time and death or rejection.

Marcille and Chil’s arc, man…….. See, this is why I’ve been tilling the fields of that analysis for months this is why I’m insane about them, not only is there so much to say but her relationship with Chil straight up deconstructs her perspective on the world as idealized and influenced by fiction and fantasy and optimism. Like, he’s at the core of that part of her arc and man!! Man.

And the way that this is the culmination of their arc together… Like the ‘Chil calling out to dunlord Marcille on the balcony has Romeo and Juliette romance novels imagery’ take is one thing but the ‘their arc is about growing to see beauty even in the non-idealized, in the flawed and in the real’... It makes it so so perfect if she were to lower her ideal from a perfect elven prince to a virtuous halfling man (which she does romanticize).

So she doesn’t want a prince, she doesn’t want a general, she just wants this guy she knows, this friend she trusts as reliable, who has good intentions even if wrapped in unpleasant demeanor, that’s all she needs to be content and well and feel safe. By the end, he might even have become something of a prince charming to her, won over with heroic acts and virtues.

After all- Remember when I said she wouldn't be able to be as touchy so lightheartedly as before with him? Well wrong, apparently! This parallel from chapter 23 just before the red dragon fight vs chapter 96 at the final feast confirms that her like of him and behavior with him was unconditional of him being a kid or an adult. Marcille is just Like That and that she just likes him. A good part of what reads as infantilization truly is just how she cares for people in general.

Conclusion

She’s afraid of change, so it's only fair that he would be perfect to teach her a thing or two. She had fantasies but he had experiences, both had bias. Their arc is about how bitterness isn't an efficient solution to hardships, about how assuming the worst from everything is a trap that doesn't reflect reality either, a trap people fall into just as much as rose tinted glasses.

Their arc is about how relationships need work and how it's worth the effort! You can overwater a plant but you can also neglect it, to find a balance between each's needs can be hard but is always important. Friendships just like romances shouldn't be taken for granted, and doing the extra steps of deepening your understanding of others and opening to them is rewarding.

Their arc says that love is a beautiful thing regardless of loss. Something both of them needed to remember. Life isn't like a novel. Sometimes an ending ISN'T satisfying, you don't get closure and it might not even be happy, but that doesn't mean nothing can end well, doesn't mean every farewell is bitter. Peace is worth both fighting for and making for yourself. You can't shut yourself off from the world because things sometimes hurt, there's more of life to live- won't you come meet my family? Won't you meet new people, won't I try to mend relationships that are dear to me? My family is flawed, but it's still worth meeting, still worth loving, still worth fighting for and keeping even with all its flaws, no? Elven storybooks don't feature half-foots, but they're worth spinning grand poetic and romantic tales for all the same. Life is bittersweet, and that's an acquired taste to have, but one good to be able to stomach as a whole.

There’s a lot of reasons why someone would love fictional characters but be afraid of love in reality, not unlike with Laios' and Chilchuck's own experiences love has a layer of danger and fear because it can hurt to love and it can hurt to be loved. People can leave you, and in Marcille that fear's mainly through death but for Chilchuck that’s through just… Leaving. Through giving Chilchuck optimism and hope, drive to keep going despite these realities, she’s also growing to be more comfortable with the thought of relationships ending and moving forward regardless. And I do think that was part of her arc of growing to accept that Falin might be dead dead, I think Chilchuck was a big part in that. Falin is the passive object of the arc but Chilchuck is the active actor pushing it along, in a way.

Because people can always leave, Falin will leave to travel the world, but she might come back- and that's okay. And that’s exactly the thing that the story wants Marcille to make peace with! Falin wants and needs to leave and Marcille needs to be content just taking what she can get, wether it be time with people or the boundaries they set with her. THE BOUNDARIES! THE BALANCING OF OPTIMISM AND PESSIMISM! IT'S CHILCHUCK'S DOING!! "The world isn’t all good, but you should be able to see the bright side of what you do get" is what she and Chilchuck learn. To learn that she can still enjoy when she is there, and still reach out to her and keep in touch through letters- to do what you can and to get what you can and to accept that as enough, for it to bring you the joy and peace it can. Don't push your expectations onto others, wether that's being overly intimate or overly judgemental, don't be too pushy but also don't be too afraid and not do anything at all.

In many ways even before, even on the regular Marcille was his gateway into being more lighthearted, always exchanging playful jabs, laughing at her. Teasing her because she teases him, lowering himself to her level until he looks back and realizes he’s having fun with it instead of just throwing jabs bc he’s the master of sarcasm TM.

Chilchuck smiling casually and softly, genuinely, when saying that things don’t work out sometimes, is just so powerful. From the man who always assumed the worst of everything, who always spoke of life and the world bitterly... By the end, while saying these things he’s smiling openly rather than smirking smugly. Carrying on with his go getter attitude with a touch more optimism in his heart. Now he's made his peace with life and sees the good in it, still.

It's all about... How flawed relationships with flawed people can still be made into somehing good and healthy that make the world brighter… How flawed relationships are still worth remembering and cherishing. Except the winged lion, there to represent abusive relationships you need to fucking DITCH.

Marcille and Chilchuck’s arc is about how in life sometimes books do close and end, but other ones can open and start, and to never give up on that. People’s lives, relationships, these things are temporary and inevitably end, but there’s meaning and joy in having been there for them, and focusing on the end and the pain and being pessimistic in it doesn’t keep anyone safe, not meaningfully. "It’s not all nice like in the stories. Sometimes, a book just ends." "And another opens."

Dungeon meshi promotes the important of balance for both a healthy body and a healthy mind, and optimism vs pessimism is one such case <3

MAYBE IT'S ALL COMPROMISES MAYBE IT'S ALL SWEET INBETWEENS. Maybe we'll take our vision of what we thought we could be and make something new together! DRINK IN MODERATION!!!!!! SEE LIFE LIKE FAIRYTALES IN MODERATION!!!!!!! THE RIGHT ATTITUDE LIES BETWEEN IDEALIZATION AND PESSIMISM

Disclaimer:

This was pretty messy but thank you so much for reading!!

Thank you to @/lyril for making the more complex collages!! Check out her blog!

To be clear! Does this arc exist in the text, the whole tropes and idealism vs pessimism thing, do they have tangible impact on each other as both characters and narrative devices? Yes. Is Marcille and Chilchuck the central piece of the story? No. Is Dungeon Meshi about this and how it all culminated into a cool Romeo and Juliette scene? Lol no. Chilchuck isn't the most important person to Marcille and her story nor is Marcille the one most important to Chilchuck. Just like the other major characters in the story, their dynamic and progressing relationship is a plotline/subplot amongst others, and the level of layers and subtext it possibly has doesn't erase any other part or subtext of the story. Arcs can coexist. Multi-layered relationships can coexist. Just a reminder that this is my own analysis and interpretation of canon.

Dungeon Meshi is about food and how it ties us to a life that’s worth living, about unity and trying to understand that which you do not, to not demonize that which is different or unknown, to connect with others even if it’s hard, even if it’s in unusual or undescribable unlabelable ways, and Marcille and Chilchuck’s relationship is certainly a pawn in these themes like every other relationship.

I’m having fun, but I don’t want anyone getting lost in the sauce. It's unfortunate that to many, acknowledging there's any merit to analyzing this subtext is equal to supporting a ship they dislike, but this isn't ship propaganda, this is analysis of canon text where I happen to see a more niche angle. You can disagree with an interpretation without saying that it's nonsensical.

Like I don’t wanna say I’m a marchil truther but if you define it as believing canon does have genuine and credible basis for it then yeah I guess I am. I feel insane everyone acts like they have no chemistry and no material and??? We exist on different planets I think Like I know I implied some romantic undertone but in canon it totally can start and end at two coworkers bonding and getting to know each other better and see each other’s perspective and it influencing them both for the better. No buts, you can totally do that. Although this plus the crumbs it drives me up a wall when people say they have no chemistry or ‘how come people see anything in this pairing?’ They’re literally a comedic duo? A comedic duo that interacts so so much that gets paired off in scenes, a thematic duo which is even acknowledged and reflected in the anime’s opening. He teases her 24/7 canonically because he finds her reactions fun/cute, the only person he teases on the regular, and she’s obsessed with knowing more about him and loves being touchy on top of it, plus reads him like a book because she files away every little thing about him in her memory, like if that isn’t a strong basis for a ship I think the bar has gone too high. I’m derailing but yeah just. Do you see all of this? They drive me insane, I feel like I’m reading the necronomicon when analyzing them, picking up on subliminal messages, I keep always seeing new threads. And it’s been my otp for like 2 years now, idk when they’ll stop having a grip on me but????? There’s just so much to dig into with them. There will never be another pair like them. Do you hear me there’ll never be another duo that hits all of these like this, do you see this insanity? They are my lifeblood and if i’m eating up anything them-related it’s because they’ve earned it so hard tbh. So yeah if I’m ever dramatic about marchil it’s because I have this 100k words novel narrative in my head and marchil is the meaning of life to me hope this clears it up

Which on that note idk what or when my next Marcille & Chilchuck analysis will be. I might very well make a bite sized, summarized version of this analysis because asking people to read all of this is kind of insane of me... And full disclosure I’m also very likely to edit points in or tweak bits every so often in this analysis because idk if I’ll ever stop thinking about it, and phrasing can improved. This has been in my drafts and outlined more than a year and I’m literally still adding extra points save me. I might also do a different angle on their arc because here yeah I mostly just dug at the prince trope angle, at ONE of many angles... Like one interesting thread in the manga is Marcille emotionally maturing and becoming more like her mother, on top of her regularly being a mom type friend the way she looks after Izutsumi and Falin, which could be interesting to pair with the fatherhood of Chil. Hmm. Anyways

And obviously do whatever you want, but this analysis and all is why I personally can’t stand the fanon that Chilchuck and Marcille have a father-daughter undertone. It goes against their arc together, which is explicitly, literally about her acknowledging him as a man, an adult, about coming to see each other truly as peers and her coming to validate him as an adult, then a father and husband from an outside perspective and a friend, and inversely him coming to not belittle her profession and philosophy. Their whole arc is about learning to see each other as an equal and equally value each other’s perspective and opinion. You could argue it’s also the arc that happens with Izutsumi, but honestly with her it’s a lot about Izutsumi learning to compromise and others instilling lessons to her onesidedly while learning to respect her perspective and boundaries, it’s not nearly as much of a reciprocal thing. Izutsumi needs to be heard, but she also needs people teaching her and guiding her. Imo it cheapens the arc, the whole point is that they’re just two people who grow to see each other as equals, that the Laios party is coworkers turned friends. Marcille doesn't need a new parental figure, she needs friends who'll keep her in check the same way she does them.

I do love the way that the manga avoids romance. For every romantic undertone there’s a platonic explanation that is just as compelling and especially to this degree it’s both rare and wonderful. I think that a lot of people need to learn that sometimes ambiguity is the point instead of something that needs to have a specific objective answer. Sometimes the intent is for something to be able to be read in different ways in itself, or that the complexity of the relationship is canonically something that cannot be put into a neat box. Which! Next analysis I'm very intent on making is gonna be about unlabeled relationships in Dunmeshi and queerness, see you there!

Fast and dirty TLDR

Marcille’s personality is very serious and direct. Due to this, she frequently gets into arguments with the master of sarcasm, Chilchuck. Chilchuck views Marcille as “the friend who cannot shut up”. He is often the practical foil to her more imaginative or idealistic views.

She actually thinks very highly of him! "He’s usually the most mature one of us" "he’s dependable, we’re counting on him" "No chilchuck is definitely virtuous", and at first it’s also through this twisted lense that he’s a kid, like she has to put people into boxes so they’re more digestible, tropes, in line with aesthetic, and at this stage it’s hard for her to see Chilchuck as being even able of wrongdoing really. And gradually that gets challenged when she sees that yeah, he’s an adult, and then BAM bicorn chapter- Because by then ok fine he’s an adult, but it hasn’t quite fully settled yet as we see in the shapeshifter chapter and she still has a warped view of him a bit, she has an accurate grasp on his behavior yet still sees him as a little angel. And then she "learns" he committed adultery. Her esteem for him hits rock bottom and she spends the chapter cold to him, she still cares and comes running when he’s hurt, but she’s set on mean mugging him, until it’s revealed that- He didn’t actually. Oh, actually he just has family angst. And she starts roleplaying and having her novel vision again BUT THIS TIME HER MIND VISION OF CHILCHUCK IS OVERTLY FLAWED. He’s angry and his wife left him, he’s *flawed*, but he’s still worth hyping up, still worth having his own romance story, still has a shot of winning back his beloved. She sees him for what he is, human and real and not a carefully scripted character that fits an aesthetic, and she thinks it’s still worthy of love and admiration, worth fighting for.

The prince charming figure has importance in Marcille and Chilchuck’s arc, where she romanticizes things to a sometimes worrying degree or idealize people into something more poetic, easy and digestible (like Chil being a kid, and then him being a virtuous ✨✨✨husband), and where she needs to learn to value aesthetics less and actual acts and facts more, be more grounded (like seeing people for what they are flaws and all, but seeing their virtues too, like accepting that people need money and not pulling through on principles of honor or unity shouldn’t get Namari shamed) and a part of that is accepting that Chilchuck is BOTH flawed and virtuous, a loving husband that still has shitty moods and fumbled his marriage so bad etc etc. So it’s like, her image of perfect prince charming that will whisk you away on an ethereal romance -> realistic flawed middle aged dad with personality issues and a failing marriage but who still is worthy of love and having his cute grand romance story and his happy ending.

Their arc together is literally learning to 1) see each other for how they are and not undermining their qualities and capacities etc etc while still not leaving flaws unchecked either and 2) opening up to people. Marcille LITERALLY makes Chil open his heart up to hope like idk man. What do you want from me. He’s literally the guy helping her through deconstructing novels and fantasy and rose tinted glasses and like. Deconstructing the prince charming figure into something more real but still a virtuous husband like KUI KUI STOOOOP STOP I’M ALREADY HOOKED I’M ALREADY-

[vaguely-concerned]

the sheer number of funerals, memorials and general scenes to do with mourning rook comes along to does start to take on a faintly darkly comedic edge the second time around. the universe is trying to tell them something and oh my maker they've got air pods in they can't hear us

[numberonetribble]

Stuck at my mom's house until the 27th, can't finish the comic I was working on until then :( here's a rough Cowboy!pinup sketch of Bumblebee and some Breakbee + Piston angst:

[thebookofbill]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

HE’S FUCKING BACK

I CALLWD MY BEST FRIEND IMMEDIATELY TO SCREWM AND TELL HIM ABOUT IT. WE YAVE COLLECTIVELT PREORDERED ALL THREE AVAILABLE BERSIONS. I AM SO SOSP SO FUCKIMG EXCITED

[theworstcreature]

It’s like I care so much out of fear and not because I genuinely give a damn

[itspileofgoodthings]

all the lyrics across Taylor’s past 5 albums about how she hopes she doesn’t lose him (hopes he doesn’t leave, hopes it never ends) only to arrive at her saying “you’re losing me.”

[lifenconcepts]

You will find moonlit nights strangely empty because when you call my name through them there will be no answer

[light-wrath-paradise]

I don't want to be a cynic but I sense that I'll have to move again pretty soon

[mielgf]

how does one refrain from wanting to tear their own skin off before a first date? asking for a friend

[safyresky]

CONTEXT FOR ANYONE WHO READS MINE TAGS/IS WONDERING WHY I'VE BEEN QUIET. ER. THAN USUAL

December/January has been WILDIN. In an attempt to establish boundaries that has backfired so hard it spiralled so out of control it exploded, I have made approximately SEVEN (7) trips up and down to see my family/parents IN A ROW. And while SOME of them were day trips or take-the-GO trips, it was still EXHAUSTING.

Here is a full, chronological list of trips up:

Dec 8: Went to visit to help with Christmas decor help/cousin's bday; ended up helping with house clean up (no decorating D:)

Dec 15: Day trip for Aunt's 60th bday. We took the GO. There were DELAYS. This never happens on our line.

My aunt invited ALL HER FRIENDS. This made it doubly exhausting.

(but she had a lovely time and was so glad we came up and told us as much)

Dec 21-22: Everyone got sick post my aunt's 60th bday; went down to help take care of the sickos and the house and fix dishwashers because BOTH OF THE DISHWASHERS AT MY PARENT'S PLACE BROKE THAT WEEKEND, ON TOP OF THEM BOTH BEING SICK AND MY SISTER CATCHING IT AS WELL!

They were all VERY bad off, actually. My Dad was in emerge for the day to try and get his immune system under control--mans is asthmatic and OLD (he's okay now he has a follow up THIS WEEK to make sure whatever tf they got was cleared and for a fresh ventalin he hopes)

Dec 25: Christmas day trip (worth it to not have to stay with grumpy mum and dad all day post dealing with grumpy aunties

one aunt (not the one who turned 60) made me want to bite when she insulted my brother to mine face--very rude, ma'am. It's christmas and he's trying ok. shut up.)

Dec 28-29: Went to Niagara to see the lights with granny and fam and also eat at a restaurant my Gran really, really likes

(The Barrel. If you're ever in the Port Colborne/Niagara area. GO. The wings are fucking SUPERB).

This was a HARDER weekend bc Richard was working so he couldn't come down with me and my mother was HELLA gaslighting/being "sneaky" and trying to delay my time to stay longer despite me wanting to go to my ding dang HOUSE that I LIVE IN with my CAT and my HUSBANDO. GAH

I did not stay extra despite being on winter break lmao I went tf home THAT NIGHT. BOUNDARIES. AHHHH,,,,

Jan 4-5: My sister's b-day. Down FRIDAY NIGHT FOR MORNING FESTIVITIES

(fun but man. EXHAUSTING. Saw Moana 2 tho! Was a good movie, could be better but I sups enjoyed it)

Jan 12: cousin cribmas-pushed-to-new-years! THANKFULLY I had today at home but spent most of the afternoon cooking since it's a potluck and I like making food for people. And also cooking with Richard. Which is no surprise lmao I wouldn't have married the man if I didn't like doing things with him 🥰🥰🥰🥰

We ALSO went out for New Years, but that was up North with some friends so even though it WAS an extra travel day, (making for EIGHT TRIPS in this general direction, ish), it was with FRIENDS so, y'know, it was a DELIGHT. I've never seen Richard so relaxed and oh my GOD it was SO NICE to have a snowy new year!! Also, there were dogs. They were cuties. Even the 3 month puppy the size of ME who barked a BUNCH.

Right, so. USUALLY these festivities--the cribmas gathering with the cousins, cribmas itself, and the lights at--Niagara take place within the same week since I get two weeks off during Christmas bc the school is closed, and everyone else's jobs were more predictable.

UNFORTUNATELY this year, everyone's jobs had holiday hours and so we could NOT arrange these things in order.

I didn't want to stay at my folks place on my own for ANY LONGER THAN I NEEDED TO so I opted for day trip on Christmas (since Richard worked Christmas Eve and Boxing Day) and the weekend trips as we planned our usual celebrations when worked best. And I was like "FUCK yeah, staying at home for most of my weekdays off! Doing my own thang!!" but I neglected to think of how EXHAUSTING all those back and forths were bc in my head it seemed like, 3 trips, and that's doable, no prob!

Then the SICKNESS WEEKEND came outta nowhere and we still came down for the bday celebrations prior to that, even if one of them involved taking the GO. We still came all the way down and travel time is big! It's still a LOT, especially when you consider that from my house to my parent's place, it's roughly a three hour journey. LONGER if you go during a high traffic time bc we have to drive THROUGH Toronto.

This is the drive on a map:

As Richard would say: "YEAP. SHE'S A BIGGIN."

We've done this drive so often it's par the course for us. We know the ups and downs, where the cops hide out, most common traffic areas, and WORST times to BE on the highway. That current time? Two hours and thirty-nine minutes? That's on a GOOD DAY with NO TRAFFIC, WHETHER IT BE CONGESTION OR COLLISION CAUSED. AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THE WEATHER, LORDY. YOU THINK CANADIANS KNOW HOW TO DRIVE IN THE SNOW? THINK AGAIN! EVERY TIME IT SNOWS ASSHOLES ARE DRIVING RECKLESSLY OR OVER CAUTIOUSLY AND IT IS A NIGHTMARE! AH!

Anyway. We've done this trip. In the last month alone. SEVEN TIMES. There and back. That's like, 500km. So when I WAS at home enjoying my time off in, y'know, MY OWN SPACE, I was RECOVERING from the LAST DRIVE. AND THEN IMMEDIATELY DOING IT AGAIN.

"But Dani," you're saying. "How did this come from boundaries being set?"

Well, you see. I said this year I'd come down for Christmas and THAT'S IT.

I was very wrong, buds. Yep!

And yeah, I coulda said NO, and Richard and I did discuss if we wanted to go to the December BDays. We ended up deciding yes and yeah. I have. Some regret. s. ehehehehehhhhhhhh

Needless to say, this is our LAST TRIP DOWN UNTIL MID-FEBRUARY, AND THEN I SHALL GET BACK INTO THE SWING OF THINGS, mainly scrimblies and 2025's art goals and of course writing!

January writing goals are: Clifton Part 3, an old smile shot rewrite to spread some LURVE! And finishing the Valentine's oneshot I wanted to post two vdays ago, lmao. Art wise, we got two more scrimbles and then some fun EXPERIMENTS! HEHEHEHEHE. TO DRAW TAG HERE WE COME! We just, haven't had the time/space to do it!

BUT NOW WE WILL! And I haven't forgotten about the results of THIS POLL! ;) Spoiler alert: the winning pick involves the Twin Princes >:)

So YEAH. Presently, I have had a good amount of caffeinated bevvy and am not yet sleeby eepy, so I figured I'd hog dashes, post that poll bc I'm indecisive (and I already figured it out with like, only 2-3 votes lol), and give a little post/update about my me bc sometimes. Sometimes the blog becomes the diary and sometimes u just need to VENT lol

[behaemoth]

My list of blocked blogs has to have doubled since d*4 came out lmao why are fans of this series so god dang dumb and annoying. Literally being like ummmm I know th*das better than bi*ware I know s*las better than them like girl……….. you don’t lmao

[blank-potato]

You Deserve It

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader

Summary:

Your landlord starts to turn away, then pauses, glancing over his shoulder with a look somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Oh, and one more thing,” he says, pointing a finger half-heartedly between the two of you. “Try to keep the noise down. Every time you two go at it, it’s like the whole building shakes.” Clark makes a strangled noise that might’ve been a cough. His face turns crimson. You blink, mouth falling open for a second before your brain catches up. Your landlord shrugs. “Just saying. I’ve had complaints from apartment 4D and 5B. They thought there was an earthquake.” Or Clark has a tough day so you decide to make him feel better. You both just hope your neighbours don't kill you with how loud the two of you tend to get.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, oral sex (male receiving), p in v sex, cuddlefuck, creampie, established relationship, Clark being cute and bringing you pie

WC: 4.5k

A/N: When I tell you I dove at my laptop as soon as I got home from the cinema to start writing about him. Hope you enjoy!

***

Clark was exhausted. He's finally on his way to your place after a busy day. He had saved a derailed train, stopped a bus from plunging off a bridge, and spent half his afternoon fighting a mechanical octopus that some genius decided to let loose in downtown Metropolis. All his deadlines for Perry were miraculously met. He needed to relax. And as always, his favourite pick-me-up was you, and your beautiful smile.

Even though he was tired, he'd gone out of his way, stopping by that little bakery in France you said you liked, just to bring back a pie for the two of you to share. It was only a quick flight, after all. And you? You were more than worth it.

Climbing the stairs to your apartment, box in hand, he was just about to knock when he felt eyes on him. 

He turns and finds a man standing on the landing nearby, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His gaze sweeps up and down Clark like he’s scanning for faults.

“Can I help you, sir?” Clark asks. 

“So this is the Clark, huh?”

Clark blinked. “You… know me?”

The man smirked. “You’re famous around here.”

The thought that you might’ve gushed about him, even just a little, made his stomach flip with happiness. 

“She’s talked about me?” he asked cautiously.

The man let out a sharp laugh. “If you call her screaming your name for five hours last Tuesday talking about you, then yeah. She talked plenty.”

Clark has faced alien warlords, collapsing buildings, and a multitude of near-death scenarios. But he had never turned such a vivid shade of red in his life.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly adjusting the bakery box in his hands, trying desperately not to combust on the spot.

“…Good to know,” he muttered.

Hearing voices outside, you furrow your brow and make your way to the door. You open it slowly, only to find your landlord standing there… and Clark, awkwardly frozen beside him, holding a very fancy pie box and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

“I was just coming to let you know there’s going to be some work done,” your landlord says. “The electricity guys are coming tomorrow around noon. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”

You nod politely, though there’s… something in the air. A weird tension you can’t quite place. Your landlord starts to turn away, then pauses, glancing over his shoulder with a look somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he says, pointing a finger half-heartedly between the two of you. “Try to keep the noise down. Every time you two go at it, it’s like the whole building shakes.”

Clark makes a strangled noise that might’ve been a cough. His face turns crimson. You blink, mouth falling open for a second before your brain catches up.

Your landlord shrugs. “Just saying. I’ve had complaints from apartment 4D and 5B. They thought there was an earthquake.”

He walks off whistling, and you just want to hide in a hole. Maybe that’s why your neighbours were giving you the evil eye. 

Clark clears his throat, eyes fixed firmly on the pie box in his hands. “I, uh… I brought pie.”

You stare at him, then burst out laughing. “You better come in, Earthquake.”

Clark steps inside, cheeks still flushed, pulling off his shoes and setting them neatly by the door. He watches your back as you walk into the kitchen, the soft hem of the oversized shirt brushing your thighs.

“Is that my shirt?” he asks with a lopsided smile, eyes narrowing playfully. It looks familiar, something he must’ve left behind weeks ago after a late-night visit, and clearly, you’d commandeered it.

“You don’t mind, do you?” you ask over your shoulder, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingers.

That’s the last thing he minds. It’s simple, it’s soft, and yet somehow it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. You, in his shirt, in his space, like you belonged there all along.

“You look…” he trails off, stepping closer, his voice rough from everything he’s held back today. “...like something I want to come home to every night.”

You blink, caught off guard by the honesty in his tone. Your smirk falters into something softer. “Well,” you say, turning to face him, “I guess you’ll just have to keep leaving shirts here then.”

He closes the distance between you in two strides, one hand settling gently on your hip, fingertips brushing the hem of the shirt. “I’ll leave a drawer if it means I get to see this again.”

You giggle before your eyes land on the dessert box, the familiar design making you gasp.  "Did you get that from France?" you ask, your eyes widening. 

“Having Superman as a boyfriend has some perks.”

Your fingers trace the edge of the pastry box, still in awe. “You crossed an ocean for a pie.”

“I’d cross a galaxy if it meant seeing that look on your face,” he says, almost shyly.

Your heart clenches because you know he’s serious, you can tell.

“You didn't have to fly all the way out there for me. Thank you, Clark.”

You wrap your arms around him, warm and unhurried, and pull him in for a kiss. It’s sweet, just like the man in front of you. His free arm, the one not cradling the bakery box, slides instinctively around your waist, pulling you closer with a low, contented sigh.

For a guy who can lift entire buildings, he’s impossibly gentle with you. The kiss deepens just slightly before he murmurs against your lips, “Next time I’m taking the fire escape. Fewer witnesses.”

You laugh, and he grins, finally starting to relax.

But still feeling a little tension in his shoulders, you say, “Long day?”

“You can tell.”

“Always,” you smile back. 

Clark always carried himself with the calm confidence of someone who could hold the world together and often did, even when everything around him was chaos. But you could tell he’d been through the ringer today, and you had an idea of how you could cheer him up. 

“Come here,” you murmur, pulling him in by the tie, your eyes locked on his with a teasing smile.

“Is that an order?” he asks, already following as you step backwards down the hallway toward the bedroom.

“More like a light suggestion.”

The truth was, you could order him around all you wanted. Superman or not, when it came to you, Clark was more than happy to obey.

You both get to the bedroom, and it doesn’t even take a second before your lips are connected. It’s like you’d both been waiting all day for this moment. The tie slips from your hand, forgotten, as your arms wrap around his neck.

He lifts you with effortless strength, lips never leaving yours, and you gasp softly against his mouth as your back hits the mattress in a rush of motion. Clark follows you down, bracing his weight so carefully.

He shifts, smooth and sure, flipping your positions so you’re straddling him now, hands resting on his chest. You had to admit, you loved the view.

Those pretty lips, slightly parted from the kiss… his dark hair tousled just enough to be unfair, with that one perfect curl resting stubbornly on his forehead. You could stare at him for hours and never get bored.

You reach for his glasses, sliding them off playfully before slipping them onto your own face. You strike a mock-serious pose.

“How do I look?”

Clark’s breath catches in his throat, eyes softening as he takes you in. 

You, in his glasses. He’s never seen anything so perfect. 

“…Cute,” he says in complete awe, like you’d just stolen the air from the room.

“I’ll keep them for now, then.”

And Clark didn’t fight to get them back one bit. 

His hands slide up to rest on your thighs, warm and steady, fingers pressing gently into your skin like he’s grounding himself, like you’re the only thing anchoring him right now.

And you, with a grin tugging at your lips, lean down to kiss him. It’s slow at first, before deepening and becoming more intense, feeling the way his breath hitches as your fingers expertly begin to unbutton his shirt.

“Your landlord—” he murmurs against your mouth, voice already fraying at the edges.

“We can be quiet,” you whisper, brushing your lips along his jaw.

“And your neighbours—” he tries again, even as his hands tighten on your hips.

“It’s okay, I swear,” you mumble, moving to kiss his neck, and take off all your clothes. With each touch and kiss, more articles of clothing are tossed aside until you’re both in just your underwear.  

You start kissing your way down his body, taking your time, savouring the warmth of his skin, the way every inch of him is sculpted like he was carved out of something divine. He’s all strength and softness, breath shallow as he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes.

“You don’t have to…” he says quietly, a flicker of hesitation in his voice.

Clark was big. 

Like really big.

Like make your jaw click big. 

He never wanted to inconvenience you or hurt you, so for the most part, he shied away from blowjobs. But you loved it; struggling for air as you try to take as much of it down, tears welling in your eyes when it hits the back of your throat, hearing him moan your name as he fucks your mouth desperately. 

But most of all, you wanted him to feel as good as he could make you feel. Wanted him to know just how much you appreciate him stretching you out with his cock and fucking you into next week. 

You pause, looking up at him, your fingers toying gently with the fabric of his boxers.

“I want to, okay?” you whisper. “I want to take care of you. Will you let me?”

His eyes search yours for a second, then he nods, just once.

“I will,” Clark relents. He knew you just wanted to make him feel good, and who was he to deny you of that? 

You pull down his boxers and pull out his hard cock, licking a few stripes from the base to the head. He gasps out your name, and it’s like music to your ears. 

You loved the way his brow would furrow, that little crease between his eyebrows he got when you teased him just enough to toe the line. It was equal parts adorable and dangerously hot. His jaw would tense, his eyes would darken, and then he’d say your name in that low, warning tone that made your stomach flip.

“I’ll be good, Clark, don’t worry,” you’d say sweetly.

If you were in a more wicked mood, you might tease him a little more, but your main goal was to help him relax; you had to remember that.

You lick his tip a few more times before taking as much of him into your mouth as you can. Saying it’s a tight fit would be a gross understatement, but still, you venture on. Moving up and down his cock with hollowed cheeks, and jerking whatever you couldn’t manage. 

His girth feels heavy on your tongue, stretching your lips as far as they can go, but it’s all worth it to see him like that. He’s fisting the sheets, his head thrown back against the pillow, trying his best not to moan too loud. 

But you want him to, you want to hear him say it, to feel his voice raw with need. So you start moaning softly, the vibrations travelling up his length, making him tremble and let out a low, guttural sound. There’s no way he could keep quiet now.

“Oh please… just like that,” he groans, his hands lifting from the sheets to find their place tangled in your hair. He’s hungry for you, just like you like him. 

Hearing that you take his cock even deeper in your mouth. You look up from where you are, and what you see is beautiful. Clark is usually calm, all discipline and controlled strength. Seeing him like this, glistening blue eyes and desperate like he’s about to cry, vulnerable, his body softening as he pulls you close, needing you like he needs nothing else but you, was perfection.

It was a side of him that few got to see. You adjust as he rocks hips up into your mouth, but can’t stop yourself from gagging when his cock hits the back of your throat.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, pausing for a moment, his hands moving gently from your shoulders to cup your face.

You look up at him, still wearing his glasses with wide, doe-like eyes and a small hum of reassurance, your mouth still occupied. Without breaking the connection, you take his hand and guide it back to your head, inviting him closer, letting him know that you’re more than okay.

All polite-like, he holds you by the hair gently, not pulling, but cradling the strands as he respectfully fucks your face.

“So good, too—too good,” he gasps. 

Wanting to push him all the way to the edge, you deepthroat his cock. Taking him as deep as you can go, fighting off your gag reflex.

“Good…golly…” he groans, voice rough and breathless.

Your eyes flutter open, burning with tears from the searing intensity, the lack of air, but beneath it all, exhilarating.

The sloppy sounds fill the room as you suck him off with a kind of dedication that should be rewarded. His fingers curling in your hair, muscles trembling with the building tension. The sounds of ragged breathing, and your name echo in your head, which sounds especially good coming from him.

You’re flooded with sensation, swallowing hard as quickly as you can, your eyes rolling back, caught in the overwhelming rush.

He helps pull you up gently, both of you gasping for air, still wrapped in that beautiful haze that lingers long after.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, concern threading his voice as his fingers brush a stray lock of hair from your damp forehead.

You nod slowly, a shaky smile tugging at your lips. 

“Perfect,” you whisper, and you mean it. You could do that all day.

Clark doesn’t miss a beat. 

He takes his glasses off your face and pulls you in to kiss you senseless. It’s a slow and deep kiss, your tongues teasing and tangling with one another, tasting him on your lips like something you’ve been craving for days. His hands cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he pulls you impossibly closer, smiling into the kiss like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

“Clark—” He cuts you off with another kiss, deeper this time, sucking on your tongue and dragging a moan from your throat as your brain turns into absolute mush. His teeth graze your bottom lip before he bites down gently, just enough to make you gasp.

In your time together, you’ve come to realise something very important: Clark Kent is much freakier than he looks.

He finally pulls away, lips swollen and breath shallow, one hand steadying your dazed, breathless self as he grins. “Sorry,” he murmurs, not sounding sorry at all. “You were saying?”

“I don’t remember,” you reply with a goofy smile, and you aren’t lying. Maybe that’s another superpower he has, kissing you so hard it gives you amnesia. 

“Lie down,” he orders. It’s gentle, but with that unmistakable edge of command that makes your heart flutter.

You roll onto your side, and he follows, settling in behind you before wrapping his arms around your waist. His bare skin presses against yours, like a living shield around you. You melt into his embrace, feeling his breath against the back of your neck as he snuggles closer, one leg slipping between yours.

It’s been less than a minute since he came, and you feel his hard cock, pressing against your entrance.

“Can I?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you murmur, bracing yourself. Even after all this time you’ve been together, it’s still a sensation that takes your breath away, adjusting to his size, to the way he fills you completely.

Finally, he pushes inside of you, your walls stretching to accommodate him, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your arms reach back instinctively, your nails digging into his bicep.

“Clawing at me now?” he chuckles.

“You can take it, Superman.”

He pulls you closer by the waist, matching his thrusts to yours with a slow, steady rhythm that sends shivers down your spine.

“I sure can,” he murmurs, nuzzling against your neck. He guides your hips up and down, matching it to his own movements, moving you like you weighed nothing. 

“Clark…” you whimper, voice trembling with need and affection.

Slow, deep thrusts follow, each one hitting you right where you’re weakest, unravelling you bit by bit. Your pussy flutters around him like it’s trying to suck him in, and Clark would love nothing more than to sink into you and never come out. 

“I love you so much,” he mumbles into your ear, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too.”

Your breath hitches as Clark presses his hand gently against your stomach, feeling the steady rhythm of his moving in and out of you.

“K-keep doing that,” you whisper, voice trembling with need.

The little gasps and moans you let out spur him on. Nothing else feels so right, so electric, as being this deep inside you, your walls pulsing around him like they were made for each other.

“Just a little more…” you plead, voice breathless.

“I got you,” he promises, tightening his grip, holding you steady.

You feel so at home in his arms. You swear his arms were made for cuddling and fucking as well as lifting derailed trains and whatnot. 

And then, finally, you finish, knocking all the air out of you, every shudder and sigh a perfect, messy symphony of release.

His release comes soon after, but he doesn’t stop. Just keeps fucking you through your orgasm, the copious amount of cum he pumped inside of you, spilling out onto the sheets with each thrust.

“Love it when you cum inside,” you whisper breathlessly, your voice thick with desire.

He presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his lips warm and reassuring against your skin.

“I know,”

He slows to a stop, giving you a moment to blink repeatedly as you come back to yourself. Your heart’s still racing, limbs deliciously heavy, pussy pumped full but still wanting more. 

You knew this wasn’t the end of the night. Not even close.

Without pulling out of you, he gently positions you on your back, strong hands guiding you with a tenderness that makes your heart stutter.

“I want to see you,” he murmurs, voice low and reverent as he settles between your thighs, arms braced on either side of you, caging you in.

He starts kissing you everywhere he can reach. Your cheeks, your neck, the curve of your collarbone. Each touch of his lips is a promise.

“You’re…” he whispers against your skin, planting a kiss just below your ear.

“So…” another kiss, this time over your racing heartbeat, his voice growing huskier as his body moves with yours.

“Beautiful…” he breathes, looking into your eyes as he presses deeper.

His pace quickens as he moves against you, the tension building with every breath. It’s hard to hold back with you, but even now, even with the fire in his veins, the last thing he’d ever want to do is hurt you. His strength is immense, but his control? Unwavering.

His hand slides up to cradle your face, eyes locking with yours, vulnerable in a way only you ever get to see.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he whispers, voice thick with emotion.

He could stay like this forever. Filling you up, again and again and again. Watching you whimper your way through another orgasm. It was overwhelming in the best way. He was overtaken by you, by your body, by the way you moved with him like you were made just to fit together. He could hear your heartbeat fluctuate with every kiss, every shift, every whispered moan, and he caught it all.

Nothing hit him harder than the sound of you like this: breathless, aching, saying his name like a prayer.

He knew your body so well, all its secrets, all its tells. The way your breath hitched when his fingers grazed that one spot on your hip. The tremble in your voice when he took his time. The way your nails dug into his back when you were close.

When he shifts, angling his hips just right, a sharp cry escapes your lips before you can stop it, his name, raw and desperate, tearing from your throat as your fingers clutch the sheets beneath you.

“Clark… Clark… Clark!”

It’s the only word you can remember, the only one that matters, echoing between you like a mantra.

No wonder your neighbours were pissed. 

And the way he looks at you, utterly undone, you know he feels the same. 

“Don’t stop—please, I can’t—” you beg. He’s fucking you so good, you don’t know which way is up. The sound of your bed’s headboard hitting the wall repeatedly echoed through the room, a steady, rhythmic thud, and you bet there’s another dent forming. Which is a shame since Clark took the time to fix it the first time you both put a hole in the wall.

“That’s it, Clark…” you breathe out, voice trembling, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body arches into his.

“Wanna be so full…,” you whine, need thick in your voice, every inch of you aching for him, for more, for all of him. If you were being honest, you wanted his cum spilling out of you for weeks.

He groans at your words, the sound deep and rough in his throat, control hanging by a thread. “You will be,” he promises. As if to accentuate your promise, you feel his large hand press gently down on your stomach, like he needs to feel how deeply he’s a part of you. And it’s deep. 

“Just for you, Clark… just for you,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a breath as your toes curl and your body tightens around him, every nerve lit up and alive.

You’re so close, your body trembling, every breath coming in shallow gasps as the pressure builds, sharp and sweet.

“Clark…” you whimper, voice high and wrecked, so needy, so soft, so pathetic on your tongue, but it only makes his hold on you tighten.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your skin, “Let go for me.”

That’s all it takes for you to give in.  Your legs tremble as your climax washes over you in fierce waves, every nerve ignited and alive.

Feeling you tighten around him, he buries himself deep inside again, filling you up completely.

But again, this wasn’t the end of the night. You keep fucking into the early hours of the morning because Clark’s stamina is godly. 

But you had accomplished your mission. Gone were any thoughts of the day before. All the stress, the exhaustion. All that mattered now was this. You and he, melting into one another with ease, with familiarity, with a kind of quiet devotion that needed no words.

After each orgasm, Clark kissed your skin with a reverence that made your breath catch, like every inch of you deserved worship, like he was reminding himself you were real, here, his.

***

After the dust settles, you and Clark lie together, coming down from your highs. Clark ought to have tough days more often if it meant having sex like that.

“I don’t think we stayed all that quiet,” Clark murmurs, brushing his fingers through his tousled hair, the faintest blush still lingering on his cheeks.

You groan, flopping back onto the bed. “Yeah, my neighbours are going to kill me.”

“There must be an alternative,” he says thoughtfully. “My place?”

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. “And have your neighbours mad at you? No thanks. Let’s keep one of our reputations intact.”

You pause mid-stretch, then slowly sit up, pressing a finger to your chin as if putting on an imaginary thinking cap. A mischievous smile begins to tug at the corners of your lips, the kind that always made Clark just a little nervous.

“I know that look.”

“We could always…,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. You both knew exactly where that sentence was going. 

Clark lifts a brow. “We can’t have sex in the sky all the time.”

You smirk. “Some of the time.”

 “Okay… some of the time,” he agrees. 

You lay back down and rest your chin on his chest, fingers idly tracing patterns on his bare chest. “What about your ice castle?”

“The Fortress?” he chuckles. “The flight there might be a little tough on you unless you want to land with frostbite.” He pauses, thinking. “Maybe we should look for somewhere with thicker walls, you know… together.”

You blink slowly, thinking, ‘Is this really happening?’

“Clark Kent,” you say slowly, voice full of suspicion and amusement, “is this your way of asking me to move in with you?”

“It is,” he answers resolutely. He’s only the slightest bit worried you were about to tell him to kick rocks, only slightly, totally not nervous at all. 

The thought of having a place that felt as much yours as it was his. Shared routines, quiet mornings, and loud nights made something warm bloom in your chest. An assortment of both your books scattered across the coffee table, indulging his love of breakfast for dinner when you cook together, waking up tangled beside one another, no longer needing to say goodbye.

You shuffle your way around, draping yourself lazily across his body, your chin resting on his chest. “I’d love to move in with you.”

Clark’s eyes soften instantly. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” you say, grinning. “And I think that calls for a celebration.”

You slide back on top of him, straddling his waist again with a wicked smile.

He laughs, breathless. “You’re insatiable,” he says, right before pulling you back in for another kiss, arms wrapping securely around your waist.

“Wait, what about the pie? We could celebrate with that,” Clark says innocently.

“The pie? In bed?” you smirk, tilting your head. “What exactly are you planning to do to me, Clark?”

His eyes widen a little. “You know that’s not what I meant… I actually don’t even know what you’re insinuating—”

You shut him up with a kiss, slow and hot, fingers sliding into his hair. “We’ll eat it after,” you whisper against his lips.

“Dessert before dessert. Got it.”

Main Masterlist

[sweetcalebb]

Reader who can’t cum pretty please 🙏

Squirtings good tho~

LADS men helping you squirt ! ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

a/n: idk how everyone out there does these kinda prompts without it sounding like copy paste 😿 i have a newfound respect for u guys. I TRIED! and ik these were fast paced. sorry. also, did research, and u CAN squirt w out cumming!

context: you have a condition (medical or it's just hard, you decide)in which you can't come. you tell the boys and they insist they can take care of you <3

p.s. idk rafayel that well 😞 and i had another request similar to this one "they make you squirt for the first time I beg of thee <33" if that was u and u still want that after this pls let me know!

Caleb <3 !

Caleb lets out a shudder when your hand wanders down to the bulge in his pants. For weeks, this was your routine.

Messy make-outs, eager handjobs or sometimes blowjob, Caleb trying to return the favor and you nudging him away.

"N-no, not today," Caleb manages, gently grabbing your wrist and guiding it away.

You frown, your hand tensing slightly. "Did I do something wrong?"

Caleb swallows thickly, his cock giving a twitch of protest when he rests your hand at your side. "Not at all. I just—I feel bad."

"Why? I really want to, Caleb."

Caleb has to will himself not to give in to the way you say his name. "No, it's not that... I just can never return the favor."

He sees the flash of panic that passes through your eyes and quickly continues, "Which is fine! I don't have to touch you if you don't want me to, I just think we should give this a break for a little."

You glance down at the sheets, your face burning with shame. Both, at what you're hiding and the fact that he won't let you touch him.

Caleb scoots closer. "Hey, I really want you to touch me. Really, I do, it just doesn't feel fair."

You take a small breath, then softly murmur, "I can't come."

Caleb's brows furrow. "What?"

"I can't come," you repeat, heart beating wildly in your chest. "I've tried everything, I just can't. That's why I don't let you return the favor. You literally can't."

Caleb blinks. Then, utters a soft, "Oh."

It's quiet for a beat until he speaks up again.

"So, does it not feel good?" His voice is curious, not accusatory. "'Cus when you touch me it... It seems like you like it, but if you don't I don't want you to fa—"

"No!" you blurt out, a furious blush coloring your cheeks. "I like it. I like it a lot. I still feel pleasure, I just can't come."

Caleb lets out a soft breath, almost like it was meant to be a laugh but he subtly covered it up. "So... do you want me to touch you?"

You chew your lip, your body screaming a wordless yes even as you shake your head. "I can't come."

"That's not what I asked."

You take a second. "Yes.."

Caleb smiles, slipping his hand down your waist and tugging you closer until your stomach is pressed to his. "I can touch you all day and night if that's what you want. I don't care if you don't come."

"Your wrist will hurt."

He can't help the laugh that slips out at your warning. "Do you want me to, Pips?"

You nod again and he slowly slips his hand under the fabric of your underwear, teasing his fingers through your slick.

You can't help buck into his hand and Caleb sighs. "I could've done this sooner.. God, you've been so needy, huh?"

When you nod, he eases a finger in. There's almost no resistance and that makes his dick jump.

"I'll take care of you. I'll go as long as you want," he pushes a second finger in, "as hard or soft as you want." He starts pumping slowly, drinking in your expressions.

Your face pinches in pleasure, hands clinging to him as he effortlessly reaches that spot that makes your toes curl.

"This still okay?"

You nod, chest rising and falling with your uneven breaths. "Mhmm.. It feels—different.."

Caleb nudges his fingers deeper, rubbing along that spongy spot inside you. "Here?"

"Yes, Caleb!"

He gives a soft moan at how perfectly you squeeze around him when he rubs over that sweet spot. "Want me to keep touching you here? Or do you want to try something else?"

"Mmn! I–I don't know!" you gasp, your body arching into his touch against your will.

Caleb slows down, gently rolling you over so you can lie on your back. "I won't do anything you don't want. You tell me what you need, alright, Pips?" He leans down to capture your lips.

You can't even return it properly, too focused on the way your stomach curls and your hips jerk every time he pushes his fingers in. Was that normal?

"Why does it feel like I'm gonna—wait–" You bring your arms around his neck and hug him close. "Caleb, it feels like I'm gonna—"

"That's normal," Caleb says, slowing down just a fraction. "You're doing good."

But he keeps hitting that spot. Keeps the same pressure, the same speed, the same angle and it makes you think you might actually pee.

Wait, you think you are.

You can't even tell him to stop before you're making a mess all over him.

"I'm.. hnn.. I'm sorry, Caleb!" you squeal, squeezing your eyes shut and hiding your face in his neck as if that might erase the pure mortification of whatever the hell you just did.

Caleb inhales sharply, easing his out fingers to rub languid circles over your clit. "Shit. You—you're so pretty."

Your ears burn.

"Don't say that.."

"Why not?"

"I didn't... pee?"

"No," he responds, kissing the top of your head. "That was something else and you—" he breaks off on a groan, trying to withstand the urge to grind himself into your leg. "You were.. so perfect."

Caleb carefully pulls back to look at you. "Are you okay? Do you want to stop?"

You can still feel him stroking you in small circles, and despite how overwhelming that was, you don't want to stop.

"Can we... keep going?"

Caleb nearly shudders. "Anything for you, princess."

Zayne <3 !

Zayne presses a fervent kiss to your jaw, his hand slowly drifting lower. Down your stomach, and stopping at the waistband of your panties.

You squirm, your cheeks flushing as you grip his wrist. "Wait.."

Zayne instantly draws his hand back. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I got ahead of myself."

"No, no, not at all.. It's just.." You pause, your chest tightening.

"What is it?" Zayne's about to shift away from you when suddenly you cling to his shoulder and pull him back.

He flinches slightly, but he doesn't resist. "It's alright," he starts again. "We can simply—"

"I can't, Zayne."

Zayne blinks once. Then he nods. "I know. It's okay, we don't need to do this. We can—"

"No, Zayne.." You sigh, your whole body burning with embarrassment. "Touching me is pointless. I can't... I can't... come."

Zayne opens his mouth, then closes it again. Did he hear that right? You can't.. come?

"You have anorgasmia?"

You flush. You're not even sure what that word means, but the fact that you're even having this conversation—with Zayne of all people—is making it hard to breathe.

"I don't—I don't know." You shift uncomfortably, your hand squeezing around his shoulder. "I've tried. But I just can't."

Zayne looks at you thoughtfully. Then gently, he says, "Pleasure doesn't always need a climax. But if you don't want—"

"I want to," you quickly say, arching into him despite yourself. "I just didn't think you'd want to since I can't..."

Zayne lets out a soft breath through his nose as he leans down to press his lips against yours. "You know me better than that, don't you?" he murmurs.

You give him a weak nod and kiss him back, gently guiding his hand back between your legs.

Zayne's breath hitches, but he doesn't hesitate.

He starts rubbing you through your clothes, drinking in the soft sighs that come tumbling out when he puts just the right amount of pressure.

"Don't feel like you need to perform for me," he reminds quietly. "I'm not doing this to make you cum." He kisses you slower, matching the pace of his fingers.

"I'm doing this to make you feel good."

You sigh, your hips bucking into his hand. You can't help it. Some part of you wishes he would stop. You two could be at this for hours and you wouldn't finish. But another part of you is screaming at him to continue. To go further.

Almost as if he read your mind, Zayne carefully helps you out of your panties and nudges them aside.

You bite your lip, your face flushing as he stares down at you with pure adoration. He drags his hand down your stomach, then lower.

He runs his fingers through the slick mess between your legs, watching as your thighs twitch around him, like your body can't decide whether to squirm away or pull him closer.

"Relax," he coaxes. "I'll be gentle."

Zayne circles your clit firmly.

"This still feels good, doesn't it?" When your hips come off the bed in confirmation, Zayne smiles. "Good." He rubs faster, absorbing every shift and twitch like it's scripture.

"I won't—I can't come," you remind him, even as your body melts into his touch.

Zayne shakes his head. "Shh. This isn't about making you come. Just enjoy it."

You give a barely-there nod. Then slowly, carefully, you feel him push a finger in. You gasp, your hands fisting in the sheets.

"Is it too much?"

"No. No, it feels good."

Zayne nods, gently pulling his finger out, then pushing back in. He does it over and over again, making sure you're relaxed before he adds another finger.

"Is this still good?"

"Yes," you breathe out, wiggling your hips. "Please don't stop."

Zayne's breath catches in his throat as he pumps his fingers in your slick heat. He could stay here forever, listening to you, feeling you.

He lets out a soft groan, sinking in deeper.

The pressure makes your stomach tighten. He keeps hitting that weird, spongy spot inside that makes your whole body ache. You can't even keep your moans down long enough to ask him to wait.

Your thighs tremble and Zayne stills when a sudden gush of wetness spills against his fingers, down your thighs, and onto the mattress.

For a second, you're frozen. Humiliated. You've never done that—whatever that was. You glance up at Zayne, mortified, but his eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You..—"

You squirm, your face flushing. "I'm sorry—"

Zayne shakes his head and surges down, capturing your lips with his. "Don't apologize. I don't want you to hold back with me."

You kiss back, your heart still pounding in your ears. "Was that..?"

"No. It's different," he murmurs against your lips. "But did it feel okay?"

You hum against his lips.

"Do you want to continue?" he asks, his fingers flexing inside you.

Yes.

Yes. Everything in you is screaming at him to please continue, but you just shake your head. "No, that was good."

Zayne stares, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Is that what you want?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek. "No..."

"What do you want, then?" Zayne shifts his fingers, the wet sound making your face burn. "Use your words."

"I want you to continue," you whisper.

Zayne hums, his lips twitching with a subtle smile as he leans up to press a small kiss to your forehead. "That's better."

Xavier <3 !

Xavier snuggles into your boobs, inhaling you like you're the only air he'll ever need. You sight softly, heat dripping low in your stomach despite your best efforts to keep your horny thoughts at bay.

"Xav.."

"Yes?" he murmurs, blinking up between your breasts.

The sight forces you to tear your eyes away. He's too good at this—the whole innocent 'I'm-just-resting-my-head-here' act when you know what he really wants.

"You're being naughty."

"No, I'm not." He closes his eyes and nuzzles into your chest again, his hands coming up to palm your breasts.

You'd been holding back with Xavier weeks given your... issues and he never questioned it too much. He was content with just kissing you, but he did get a little needy every now and then.

Like now.

You stare down and feel a pang of guilt. He's been so patient. Even when he wants it so much. You can feel it—physically feel how much he wants you when you two kiss and you're sitting in his lap.

You sigh, raking your hand through his hair. "Hey, Xavier."

"Mmn?"

"I'm sorry we haven't... gotten physical."

You mentally cringe.

"Don't apologize for that. This is good," Xavier hums, pressing a reverent kiss to your chest, the warmth of his lips seeping through the fabric of your shirt. "This is really good."

"But.. do you want more?"

Xavier looks up, blinking, like he can't decide whether this is a trick question or something you want an answer to.

"Um... I.. Is this a trick question?"

You give a rueful little smile. "No. Be honest."

"I mean, doing more with you would be nice. But I don't need it. I'm perfectly fine like this."

The ache between his legs might beg to differ, but he would never guilt you into doing something with him.

You stay silent, fidgeting with his messy hair.

Xavier immediately sits up when you don't say anything. "Did I say something wrong? Was that actually a trick question?"

You shake your head. "I just—I want to do things with you, Xavier... but... I can't come."

Now Xavier's silent. He wasn't expecting that.

"Oh. Do you know why?"

"No," you murmur. "I've tried everything. Nothing works. I even tried toys."

Xavier's face flushes at the mention of toys, eyes darting around like he's trying to find their hiding spots. Then, quickly he forces his eyes back to you. Now isn't the time to look for your secret dildos or whatever it is you tried.

"Oh," he says again, his chest tightening. "That's.. fine."

You pause. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you still feel good when you do... things?"

Your cheeks warm as you nod. "I just—I've never tried anything with you because it would be useless. I wouldn't—you know?"

The thought makes his cock twitch traitorously. Xavier shifts awkwardly, slowly crawling back over you. "I could still make you feel good, if you want me to."

He slides his hand down your waist and squeezes like it's the only thing keeping him from crumbling.

"Even though I wouldn't...?"

"It doesn't matter. I would do anything you want for as long as you want," Xavier insists. And he means it with every fiber of his being.

Your heart stutters and heat rushes between your legs.

"Is there anything you'd want to try?" Carefully, he dips his hand down your stomach, stopping between your thighs, his touch light. "I'll do it."

"Are you sure..?"

Xavier nods. "Positive."

Your body lights up at his answer, your head already swimming with all the things you've wanted him to do. But one thing sticks out.

Shyly, you start, "Would you... go down on me?"

Xavier can't bite back the strangled sound that comes out. "Yes," he breathes. "Yes, I would go down on you."

He slips his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear, waiting. "Can I?"

You nod, watching with clouded eyes as Xavier gently pulls your clothes off and dips his head between your legs. He pulls your legs over his shoulder and when you feel his breath on your needy heat, you think you want to keep him there forever.

He kisses you—soft at first, then harder. You just taste so good. Musky, a little sweet, too.

He wraps his hands around your thighs and starts eating you out like a man starved. You gasp, shooting your hand down to tangle in his hair.

"Xavier!"

He hums in response, the vibration making your toes curl. You didn't expect it to be so good, but it is. So, so good.

You roll your hips, unable to stop it and Xavier groans when he feels you. He even pulls your thighs to guide you on his face.

The sounds you two make are obscene. Wet, sloppy squelches, groans, and sighs that are borderline pornographic. It's something you never thought you'd experience.

And when Xavier slowly eases two fingers in, you nearly cry. How can he even reach that deep?

"Oh, God! X-xavier! You—You're—!"

He gives you slow pumps, his tongue working your clit at the same time. And when he curls his fingers, your hips jump.

"W-wait! Why does that feel so—?"

You can barely speak before he's doing it again. And again. And again. And again. You're a squirming mess, hips chasing his mouth and fingers.

"Xavier...! Wait I think I might—!"

Xavier moans when he feels you spill against him. But you're desperately trying to twist away from him, embarrassment stinging your cheeks.

You gasp. "Oh my god, did I just— I’m sorry, that was so gross—"

Xavier slowly eases away, chin and lips glistening with your arousal. He wipes it away, pupils blown wide pure adoration.

You can't even look at him, but you're still blurting out apologies like that might erase the mess you just made.

"Gross?" He breaths out an incredulous sound. "Are you kidding?"

You swallow hard. "It wasn't—?"

Xavier makes an incredulous sound. "That was the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"W-what?"

"I loved it." He notes the way you're squeezing your knees together and feels a pang of guilt. "Were you enjoying yourself?"

You take a moment before giving a shy nod. "Yes. I just.. wasn't expecting that. Were you okay with that?"

"More than okay," he immediately answers.

"But that wasn't coming, was it?"

Xavier shakes his head. "No, not quite. You're sure it felt okay, though?"

"Mhmm.."

"Then, is it okay if I stay a little longer?" Xavier asks, sliding his hand over your knee.

Yes! You want to greedily pull him back down, but you see the way his chest falls and rises a little too quickly. "Don't you need a break?"

"No." He leans closer. "I don't need a break unless you do."

Your stomach flutters. "I don't need a break yet."

Xavier smiles, gently prying your legs apart and lowering his face between them again. "Then neither do I."

Sylus <3 !

"Something's been bothering you," Sylus says between kisses, his hands dragging up your sides and squeezing like he can't help it.

You sigh, arching into him. "What are you talking about?"

He presses a soft kiss to your head before pulling back. "Whenever we get intimate, you tense up." He cups your face, rubbing a soothing circle over your cheek before letting his fall to his side.

"You can tell me if this isn't what you want, sweetie. You always can."

You nod, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down as if to prove your point when you say, "I know... It's not that though."

Sylus chuckles when he feels you close your arm around his neck. "All right then. What is it?" He brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses it. Soft. Slow.

You smile, chest squeezing at the way his eyes never leave yours. "It's embarrassing.."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed of. Tell me what's on your mind."

You swallow hard, bracing yourself. "Um.. I really want to do stuff with you.. But I can't..."

Sylus quirks a brow, but he doesn't look accusing or judging; he is just curious. "Say more..."

"I can't.. come.."

There’s a beat of silence. A slow, terrifying beat, before Sylus finally nods in acknowledgment. "All right.. Do you want to talk about that more?"

Your cheeks burn an embarrassing red, but despite the heat, you still feel an odd sense of comfort. So, with a shaky breath, you start, "I still feel good. But there's just... no finish."

"No release," Sylus echoes, and you nod.

Sylus hums, nibbling on your knuckle. "So that's what it is? You don't want to burden me?"

You give a shy nod and Sylus almost can't help the scoff that slips past his lips. You frown, about to ask him what he's making that sound from when he leans down and kisses you. "You could never be a burden to me. In or out of bed."

You gasp against his lips.

"But—"

"No buts. Do you want to feel good?"

"..Yes."

"Then let me make you feel good."

–

The next time you see Sylus he pulls out a velvet-wrapped box, intricate designs engraved on its side.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you stare down at it, cheeks flushing like you already know what's inside.

"What's this?"

"These are options," he says, watching with an amused little smile as you slowly open the box. Inside are lubes, oils, and a few dildos. They look beginner-friendly, but it doesn't stop your mind from spinning.

"You don’t have to do anything tonight. Just… options for you, if you ever feel curious. I want you to feel safe."

You tentatively pull an oil out. "What's this?"

Sylus grins, his chest warming at the way your lips part with curiosity. "It's meant to enhance your pleasure."

Then slowly, you pull out the dildo. It's not as intimidating as you thought it'd be—It's actually a cute pink, not too big or too small, with a few ridges lining the side.

"Again, you don't have to try that."

Your mouth goes dry as you look back up at him. "I want to."

Sylus's lips twitch with a smirk. "You do?"

You nod, tapping the oil. "And... this too."

Sylus nudges the box aside and kisses the top of your head. "Tell me if you ever want to stop. This oil can be overwhelming at first."

You let him guide you onto your back and strip you down—slow and gentle. Like he would stay in this moment forever if you let him.

Then slowly, he rubs the oil on your clit, his touch making your back arch. Sylus smiles. "Does it feel good, sweetie?"

"Mhm."

"It'll take a few minutes to kick in, but in the meantime, we can explore with this." You watch, your stomach fluttering as Sylus applies a generous amount of lube on the toy, then gently nudges it at your entrance.

He watches every shift, careful not to hurt you.

And when he pushes it deeper, your little mewl makes him twitch in his pants.

"How does this feel, sweetie? Do you want more?"

You gasp, clutching his arm. "Yes, please!"

He presses deeper, giving you a moment to adjust. The second you start squirming your hips, he gently starts pumping the toy in and out, gauging your reactions. At the same time, he reaches down and starts rubbing firm circles over the achy bud between your legs.

You squeeze his arm tighter, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

"Talk to me," he breathes. "Is it too much?"

You furiously shook your head. "No! Please don't stop!"

Sylus lets out a soft laugh. You're beautiful like this. He works over every spot he knows will have your back arching and your toes curling, building you to a high you didn't know was possible.

"Sylus...! I feel like—Ah! Every time you do..hahh.. that! It feels like I'm... I'm gonna..!"

Sylus smiles, slowing down, just enough to let you relax, but not enough to let you come down from the high.

"Shhh... Let go. You're not going to pee, if that's what you think."

You grab him impossibly tight. "P-promise?"

Sylus nudges the dildo deep, hitting that spot once more and you nearly lose it. "I promise. Do you still want this?"

When you nod, he doesn't stop anymore. He hits all the right places, again and again and again. Then you feel it—the pressure in your stomach, the sickening tightness—

You barely have time to speak before you're spilling yourself on the dildo and his wrist.

Sylus lets out a stuttered breath. "God, look at you… absolutely stunning."

You want to flush, ask him if that's really what you thought it was, apologize for just... spilling yourself but he's already leaning down and kissing you.

"That was okay?" you ask between kisses and he groans.

"That was perfect. You're perfect."

Rafayel <3 !

Rafayel leans back, lips kiss-swollen, and brows furrowed in concern. "Hey, you okay? You..." Rafayel pauses, unable to hide the hint of offense, "tense every time we do this."

You open your mouth, unsure of what you're even going to say, but Rafayel quickly continues. "It's fine if you don't want this," he assures you, slipping his hand into yours and squeezing. "Just tell me. I don't ever want to make you feel uncomfortable."

"No.. It's not that..."

He sees the way you seem to shrink. "Not that I’m demanding fanfare every time I lean in,” he jokes, hoping that might ease the tension.

Your lips curl up in a small smile. "I know..."

"Then what is it?"

With a shaky breath, you finally manage, "I can't come."

Rafayel's brows come together. "You.. can't come?" he repeats, relief flooding his chest when you nod.

Not that he's happy you can't come, but at least it isn't him.

"I'm sorry I didn't know," he murmurs, cupping your cheek and pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

You smile, leaning into his touch. "It doesn't mean I don't experience pleasure though.. I just," you shrug softly, "never finish."

Rafayel nods, thoughtfully. "You should've told me sooner. I wouldn't have—"

"No, Raf—" you laugh breathlessly, cupping his face in your hands. "I'm trying to say that I want to do things with you. I want to right now."

Your cheeks warm when you hear yourself.

"I still feel good. And if you didn't mind..—"

"I don't mind," Rafayel answers, already slipping his hand around your waist and pulling you close. "I don't mind at all."

"Then do you want—" You break off on a yelp as Rafayel scoops you into his arms. You laugh, curling your arms around his neck. "What are you doing?"

"Setting the mood."

You scoff, nuzzling into his neck. "You don't have to make this a big deal."

"Why not? You're a big deal to me."

He gently sets you down on his bed and dims the light before crawling over you. You swallow hard, every cell in your body lighting up the instant he leans down to kiss you because now you know where this is going.

He's slow, gentle. The way he always is, but he's also hungrier, needier.

His hands drag down your side, remapping your body before finally landing between your legs. He pulls back to look at you as he applies gentle pressure.

Your breath catches in your throat.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Rafayel asks, his voice low, laced with a hint of frustration. Not at you though, at himself.

"I just didn't know if you'd still want to... do stuff if you knew."

Rafayel lets out a small shudder, rubbing firm circles through your clothes. "Do you seriously think I'd walk away because I know you better?"

You give a slow shake of your head. "I'm sorry.. I shouldn't have thought—"

Rafayel kisses you again, his hands slowly working your pants and underwear down your legs. "Don't apologize. I'm sorry."

He's gentle when he nudges your clothes away. "I should've been more attuned to you," he says, his hand finding the heated skin between your legs again.

He drags his fingers through your slit, a quiet breath slipping out when he feels how much you've wanted this.

"N-no, Rafayel," you try, your hips rolling into his touch. "It's not your fault."

"It is." He crushes his lips against yours, his fingers slowly working over your slick heat. "Let me make it up to you."

You press your palm to his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath the faint whiff of turpentine and terpene clinging to his skin. Then you nod.

"Okay."

Rafayel doesn't waste a single second. He pushes in slowly, his mouth parting at the way you cling to his finger.

He waits until he's certain you're ready, then he nudges another finger in, drinking in the way your face pinches with pleasure.

"Tell me if it’s too much, or not enough. Every stroke is for you."

"It's enough," you mewl, the sound shooting straight to his core. He can't help it. You're so beautiful like this.

He curls his fingers once, gasping when he touches the spot that makes your back arch and your hips jump.

"There?" he asks. "Do you like that spot?"

You don't even know what that spot means, you just know it feels good so you give a furious nod. "Yes! I like.. It!"

Rafayel knows he should keep his teasing to a minimum. You're being so open and vulnerable with him after all, but it slips out unbidden.

"That's it." He bites his lip, a silent scolding, but then it comes out again. "Falling apart on my fingers.."

When you flutter around his pumping digits, he nearly loses it.

You cling to his shirt, heart pounding. "Feels so good... keep talking.."

Rafayel shudders, his thumb brushing against your clit when he speaks. "Yeah? You want to hear my voice?" His voice dips, jaw tensing from the effort of holding himself back. "Look at you... dripping all over me."

He hits that perfect spot. And once he finds the exact place that makes you breathe out a whiny moan and curl your toes, he hits it again and again.

"You're so beautiful."

You feel your stomach burn, the pressure inside you coiling tight. Too tight.

"Rafayel..!"

You gasp as you spill yourself over him, a furious blush painting your cheeks. You want to curl up and his in his blankets, but he's leaning down and pressing his whole body weight onto you, kissing you slow and deep.

"You're my most beautiful work."

You make a muffled sound into the kiss, melting into it. When he pulls back, his cheeks are tinted a cute pink and his breathing is uneven.

"You said... that you don't finish.. but you can squirt?"

You cover your face. "Don't say that!"

Rafayel smiles. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's gorgeous."

You peek through your fingers. "Really?"

"Really."

He gently pulls your hands away and kisses you again. "Thank you for showing me that side of you."

"Thank you for helping me."

—

@cafekitsune for dividers!

i didnt like this.

[batsandbirdbrains]

This idea just popped in my head so not super elaborate. But let’s have the Batfam out apprehending a rogue magic user when Nightwing gets de-aged to when he was in his first few months as Robin. And they’re all expecting a sweet little sunshine kid, a smaller version of how their brother currently acts.

Instead, they see the itsy bitsiest little kid imaginable in the original Robin uniform, and they’re all instantly so mad at Bruce for ever letting Dick go out and fight when he was literally a tiny little child. He looks like a strong wind will blow him over.

But then they see him in action and they realize oh no, their brother was actually a little monster. He actually growls at them at one point. They get back to the batcave and they see him just become an animal. He bites Damian’s arm so hard when he hears someone call Damian Robin, then screams and yells about how he’s the only Robin.

Then he tells off Bruce with the intensity of a pissed off teenager, except he’s not even four feet tall and he’s standing on a table so he can shout in Batman’s face. And Bruce just looks so exhausted.

“I’m in charge here,” Bruce starts to tell him, but Dick just puts his hands on his hips and huffs.

“It’s cute you think so,” he says in a snotty voice.

“Alright, time for bed,” Bruce says quickly, because he remembers very well how things worked back when Dick really was eight and a snot nosed little menace. And he knows all of Dick’s tells, and he can see that he’s getting overwhelmed and upset and it’s going to soon turn into a total meltdown.

“No!” Dick argues, but Bruce has already picked him up, and he’s flailing and biting Bruce’s arm. “Pumme down! You’re not my dad, put me down, you’re not my daddy!”

He’s screaming and sobbing before they’re even halfway up the stairs. It’s the tantrum of the century, and it’s making Jason’s ears ring.

“What the fuck,” Jason gasps once the door leading upstairs closes, “was that?”

“Was Dick possessed or something?” Stephanie asks, rubbing at her ears.

“I can’t believe he bit me,” Damian mumbles, watching as Alfred cleans the very detailed bite mark on his arm. Tim snorts from where he’s watching.

“I think you’re all forgetting a very crucial detail,” Alfred tells them all, his voice very patient but strained, “that Master Richard came into Master Bruce’s care during a very traumatic period in his life. While his behavior might shock you, I assure you this was all quite normal compared to when he was actually eight years old.”

And it’s true. Because they do all often forget that the only reason Dick came to live with Bruce was because he’d just watched his parents get murdered and fall to their deaths in front of him. Most of them don’t even know about the couple months he spent in juvie while Bruce fought to get custody of him.

So when they go upstairs and hear Dick still screaming at Bruce, they try to have a little more empathy. Especially when they hear him start sobbing I want my mommy over and over again, and they have to listen as Bruce whispers I know, I’m sorry, I’m here to try and soothe him.

They try to be patient when he gets so angry the next day that he screams and flings Zitka across the room to hit one of them in the head, only to start sobbing when he realizes a couple stitches popped on the leg he held to throw her and now the stuffing is coming out, and they try to calm him down while looking for Alfred to help stitch her back together.

They try not to get frustrated when he’s yelling at them, only to fumble over his words in the middle of his tirade because he can’t remember the words in English, and now he’s upset and tugging at his hair and hitting his head while they try desperately to hold his wrists and make him stop, to help him find the words he was looking for, but he’s speaking like three different languages at once and no one can follow and it just makes Dick so much more frustrated until he runs away to hide in his room.

They try not to get annoyed when he’s in the batcave and actually beating them when they spar (because he’s fighting way dirtier than he ever would if he was his normal age), only to have him taunt them and stick his tongue out at them.

They try to understand how the little brat that was just screaming in Bruce’s face is now clinging to his leg, sitting on his foot, and begging Bruce to let him sleep in his bed tonight. You have to keep the monsters out, he tells Bruce, and they all see the way that makes Bruce melt, makes him do anything Dick asks because somehow this menace has Bruce wrapped around his little finger.

They watch Dick swing from a chandelier one day, looking down and calling everyone some very colorful names in all sorts of languages, but especially Bruce. Then he’ll hop down and pretend like nothing happened, instead clinging to Bruce and making him carry him around all day long, acting as if he’ll be burned if his feet to touch the floor.

He goes from wild to sweet in the blink of an eye, and it’s a total mind fuck.

Then he turns back to normal and acts as if none of that was even out of the ordinary.

[sourappl3s]

i never hear anyone talk about how overwhelming it can be to wake up with your desires one day after so long, i’ll speak about my void state success story, when i first entered it. i wont tell you what i manifested since i explained it to an ask. yeah waking up after doing the void state and getting all you want is a pleasant thing but can we talk about how overwhelming it is to literally have you reality just shifts like that? because when i woke up the next morning after inducing the void state my heart genuinely stopped for about 10 seconds and i’m not even exaggerating, because everything was just different? i wasn’t in the same room i was before. LIKE LITERALLY WHEN I WOKE UP I FORGOT I HAD MUSIC PLAYING THE OTHER NIGHT AND RIBS JUST STARTED PLAYING out of nowhere. i like to think of ribs (the song guys) as a new beginnings song, even though the song symbolizes bittersweet memories and friendship. the new beginnings feeling is just my personal feeling. so as ribs was playing i started crying hard on the spot. congratulating myself for reaching this huge milestone, i took in my new environment and cried harder, i sound dramatic but thats just how it was for me. i was shaking and not from fear just from extreme excitement. when i went look in the mirror i cried so much more, everything about me just screamed different, i’m sorry i keep repeating “different” so much because thats literally what it was. everything was just different. i kept repeating to myself “please don’t let this be a dream” over and over, doing everything i can so i’d be sure it wasn’t a dream, when i accepted it wasn’t a dream i went scream into my pillow and started jumping around my brand new room like a hyperactive puppy. thoughts were running everywhere “oh the new memories i’ll make” “i’m finally happy” “its over now” “i can’t wait to see what this new life has in store for me”. i didn’t touch my phone the entire day after waking up with a brand new reality. i barely touch my phone now but i still try to help people on tumblr so they can finally accept their power. i’m not saying i woke up with a terrible/bad overwhelming feeling it was more of a “oh my god theres no way” type of overwhelming feeling. i wanted to share my void state success story with the world but from seeing some liars that were caught (no im not a liar) i was scared people would deem me as a liar because they would “demand” proof. or assume “im lying for attention”. but no this is me coming to you with full honesty that i’ve manifested my dream life, i can still be on social media but that doesn’t automatically make me a liar. if you truly believed in LOA then you wouldn’t have to dwell on solely getting proof for your own satisfaction to really know the law is real. THE LAW IS REAL, THE VOID STATE IS REAL, YOU ARE ALWAYS PURE CONSCIOUSNESS, IMAGINATION IS EVERYTHING, SHIFTING IS REAL, MANIFESTING IS REAL, YES YOU CAN MANIFEST WHATEVER YOU WANT, YOU ARE LIMITLESS.

live in imagination, stop looking for more information, stop starting over, stop giving up, stop doubting, stop looking for the 3D for proof, look within for proof. time isn’t real but yes your clock is ticking, break the pattern or the loop WILL repeat tomorrow. you’re destined for success.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ! ❞

❝ THEY TOOK YOU. SO SATORU GOJO DID THE ONLY REASONABLE THING — HE TOOK THEIR LIVES ! ❞

✧ pairing: gojo satoru x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo rarely loses his cool. except when it comes to you. so when you get taken and found hurt, he takes matters into his own hands to find out who did it and make them pay.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, canon compliant, feral gojo, acts of violence, reader gets kidnapped and attacked, gojo goes insane, gojo clan sucks, higher ups get asses best, yaga and Ijichi featured, dom!gojo, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral (f), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, implied multiple rounds, swearing,

✧ w/c: 8,446

The worst mistake Satoru Gojo ever made that morning was to get out of bed.

If he had just stayed in bed that morning, turned his cellphone on silent, and basked in the warmth of the soft comforter you had picked out (even as you balked at the exorbitant price) and especially in the warmth of your embrace — the one place where it felt as if it was okay to be himself, just him.

And now it was just him.

Because you were gone.

When his phone rang that morning, your lips had been against his, indulging in a lazy morning tryst because for once, Satoru had been off duty — or he was supposed to be off duty. Your gaze had been the ones to stir him from sleep, as even in the embrace of sleep he couldn’t resist you or your adoring eyes — the very same he held more precious than his own.

“I didn’t even say anything, how did you wake up?” And his lips curl at your slight frown, his fingers brushing over the curve of your cheek.

“Thought my pretty wife was admiring my beauty while I slept so I had to wake up to the same,” and he’s leaning over to press lazy kisses along your jaw.

“Did you just call yourself beautiful?” You snort, and he grins, before falling into a playful pout.

“My own wife doesn’t think her husband’s beautiful?” And you’re rolling your eyes, before rolling over on top of him, your body only covered by the black t-shirt you had stolen from him last night, a small groan as he felt your very bare thighs brush against his boxers.

You were a goddess — your smile ethereal in the sunlight streaming in from the window as you leaned over him, and he was willing to worship all his life at your altar, if you would only give him a brush of your lips.

“Of course I think you’re beautiful, I’m the one always saying that anyway,” your lips brush his chastely, far too quick and teasing, “I was just imagining what Nanami would say if he heard that,”

“Oh? And what’s that, sweetheart?”

“He would say the size of your ego is becoming a threat to Earth’s atmosphere,” and Satoru raises an eyebrow.

“And my darling wife would disagree, right?” and you look away, biting back a smile, “eh? You’d let him say such heinous things about me?”

“It’s not heinous if it’s true—“ you gasp, and he’s flipped you on your back, pressing his lips to yours to swallow your words, along with your giggles, as you break free, “Toru! Ah—“ and he nibbles at your neck, “hey!”

“You have to pay for the consequences of your actions, baby, what kind of sensei would I be?” And you’re rolling your eyes.

“I’m not your student, ngh,” you’re gasping as his teeth sinks into your neck, “if anything, I’m the one reigning you in,”

“Well then,” he chuckled in his words, as his fingers trace your jaw, “I’ll have to show you how far your student has come then,” and his lips only brush yours, when his phone rings.

“Baby,” you sigh, and he’s glancing at the phone, a sigh on his lips, as he reaches for the phone, sneaking a glance at you, before he picks up.

You press sweet kisses to his chest as you hear the faint murmur of Yaga’s voice through the phone, hearing reports of the special grades they’ve been tracking, “Old man, this is the first day off I’ve taken off in so looooong,” and he holds the phone away from his ear until Yaga’s screams fade, “fine, fine, send Ijichi,” he hangs up while Yaga was still mid-yell, tossing his phone on the bedside table with a sigh, “sweetheart,”

“I know,” you cup his cheek, his lips in a pout not made for the strongest sorcerer, but for your Satoru, “I’ll be here when you come back — waiting very impatiently,” and he chuckles, his lips finding yours.

“How’d I get so lucky to have such an understanding wife?” And your lips curl.

“You annoyed her into falling in love,” and he gapes at you as you giggle, until he’s got you pinned underneath him yet again, “what? It’s true!”

“Then I’ll have to annoy you some more, just to make sure,” and he’s finding you in another kiss, until his devilish fingers run down your sides, beginning their assault on the spots that made you laugh the most.

You pulled your lips from his, squealing, “Nooooo! Satoru, stop!” you tried to push him off from tickling you, but he was the strongest for a reason—a reason you usually were very grateful for, but not right now. And finally he relented, as you gasped and chuckled still, lips in the most adorable pout, “you’ll pay for that,”

“Oh really? How’s that, wifey?” and you kiss his lips chastely, barely a brush, as you cross your arms, fighting back a smile.

“That’s the only goodbye kiss you get,” and he gasps, clutching his chest dramatically, before that smirk of his returns, “and you try to steal one and I’m making you sleep on the couch,” And he pouts, before you press a longer kiss to his lips, “you’re lucky I love you,”

Satoru grinned, “I know.”’

Yeah, he should have never gotten out of bed.

“Where is she?” For once, Satoru’s words were devoid of humor, the laughter and happiness sapped from his very essence the moment he had heard. The moment he had felt your cursed energy waver. All this time, Satoru’s eyes had been focused on the outline of your soul, no matter where he was, because you were always the one thing he wanted to come home to — that he needed to.

“I don’t know Satoru, that’s why I had called you,” Yaga runs his fingers through his hair, “goddamnit,” he swore, scrubbing a hand down his face, “the mission came from the higher ups, they wouldn’t give me the specifics, but they said it was confidential—“

“I don’t care for the details right now, do we know anything about where she is?” Satoru keeps his words carefully measured, muscles wound taut, the only thing keeping him from using blue to destroy Jujutsu Tech in one fell swoop was the thought of you, “did she tell you anything else—“

And Ijichi bursts in, brow furrowed, “Gojo, we have a lead.”

~~~

Was this how it would end?

You knew it was in your fate to die, eventually. A wretched cycle that all of you were forced to live. An endless baton pass that always ended with the last runner dying — nothing but a pile of corpses left behind and to look back on.

And it would almost be a relief, a blessing to finally be done — if it wasn’t for Satoru.

You knew he would blame himself for this. He always blamed himself. Blamed himself when he couldn’t beat Toji. Blamed himself when he couldn’t save Riko. Blamed himself when he couldn’t save Geto. Because he was the strongest, and that meant he should be able to solve everyone’s problems — do everything no one else can do, be everywhere at once, and never fail.

Never. And yet, that’s not what the sleepless nights he spent working told you. It only told you that jujutsu would take everything from him, if he let it, and he would let it, if only that meant he could do more good.

And he was so good. Even if he didn’t see it — you could almost feel the lingering warmth of his embrace this morning, the wide grin on his lips as he peppered kisses down your neck, and the soft gaze of blues made of affection just for you — you would always see it for him.

You don’t see the curse coming, your vision blurred from the last strike. The crack of your bones barely registers in your ears, the curse presses you into the wall, claws pressed to your throat, drawing blood to run down your neck.

“Now, now, we can’t kill her, at least not yet,” a voice calls out, “we were given strict orders to wait,”

The curse’s growl reverberated across your skin, a desperate growl deep in its chest, the string of control being pulled taut, as its black nails dig deeper into your side, until it dropped you onto the ground like a rag doll.

Your body ached only for moments before it was chased away by numbness. And you could only wonder if this was how they felt? Riko, Haibara, Geto, all the others you watched die — was this the pain they felt? The ache of muscles that they could no longer feel, the sticky wetness of blood that seeped from their unknowing bodies, and the cold thst crept up from the tips of your toes.

You wanted it to stop. You wanted to stop. But each time you felt the tug of the other side, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t. Not when Satoru needed you.

Your eyes burn with tears. And you needed him.

~~~

“Where is she?” The same question was ringing in Satoru’s head over and over since he had heard.

Candle wicks trembled with fear, casting shadows on the wall that shivered in the presence of the man before them. The papered panels was all that stood between him and these old men — the very same that played with the lives of many day in and day out. It would be far too easy to kill them all — in fact, it would barely take any effort at all with his cursed technique.

But he wouldn’t allow them the warm embrace of an instant death.

“Such insolence — how dare you enter this place and speak—“

“You ought to be thanking me,” his power sparked in the glint of his eyes, the glow of the lit wicks catching in the hard blues, “for not bashing your skulls in and ripping your hearts from your chests from the moment I entered,”

A silence swept over the room, another voice speaking, “Gojo—“

“The next words out of your mouth better be an answer because I don’t want to ask again,” his voice fills the silence in the room, only broken by the sounds of the candles crackle, “where is she?”

“We cannot disclose where—“ there’s a loud crack, the splintering of wood and the wet squelch of flesh and blood, and a cold breeze swept through the room, the candles going out.

Satoru’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of his neck, forcing the broken floorboards digging into his wrinkled skin, “I said I want an answer, do you think I would think twice about killing any of you?”

There’s a pause and the silence is only filled by the sound of gore dripping down the paper screens and hitting the floor.

“The only reason I haven’t yet was there was no point to it — no meaning,” and he could see you this morning, his lips curled for you, a strangled choking noise leaving his throat as the pads of his fingers squeezed around his neck, “but now I have every reason to, so tell me before I lose my patience,”

A silence fills the room again, until one of them speaks, “Let him go, and we’ll tell you.”

~~~

“Who do you work for?” the words come out strangled, your fingers bunching up your soaked fabric and pressing it to the gash on your stomach, “why did you bring me here?” You force yourself not to give them the satisfaction of a flinch.

“Do you really think it would be that simple to get me to reveal the reason, jujutsu sorcerer?” you hear a distant laugh, “we have our reasons, isn’t that simple enough? Or rather—”

His footsteps clapped against the floor, your head wrenched upwards, as a small yelp escapes your lips, “does it matter when you’re going to die either way?”

And you grit your teeth, before spitting on his face, half blood, half saliva, “At least I don’t have to live a life as pathetic as yours,” his fingers squeeze at your chin, your jaw aching under his grasp.

“Pathetic?” He wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt before, throwing you to the floor, body screaming in pain, but you refuse to show weakness, even as tears burn at your tear ducts, “And yet, I’m not the one bloodied and battered and two inches from death, bitch,” he scoffs, muttering, “I can see why they ordered us to kill you now, who would want someone like you around?”

“Now I’m listening, who gave you those orders?” Another voice says from behind him. The man freezes, while you lift your head, a small smile on your lips, “are you hard of hearing or just plain stupid? Well, I don’t really need to even ask that, do I?”

He was shrouded in shadow, but you didn’t need to see him to know it was him — especially as he tugged his blindfold down with two fingers, blue eyes devoid of any humor or joy, and instead only with hatred.

“Satoru Gojo,” the voice left the man’s lips slowly, but before he could react, the special grade curse that had held you was barreling towards him in a moment, before Satoru held it at bay with his infinity, the other curses following suit — how many did this curse user have in the room with him? Three? No more like five or six, but even so — you scoffed under your breath, it wouldn’t matter, “No, you idiots! Don’t—”

And in a moment, they are eviscerated — held back by his infinity, deep seeded growls and roars leaving their lips, “c’mon now, is this the best you can do? I was expecting more from those bold enough to take my wife, but I guess I expected too much,” he sighs, before he lifts one hand, “Cursed Technique Amplification, Blue,”

You barely can make out the screams from one another, the splatter of their essence raining down from above, until you hear footsteps rushing towards you, and you’re hauled to your feet, pressed against the cursed user, his hand around your neck.

“One more move, and I break her neck,” Satoru landed below with ease, his gaze raised until he met yours, and you saw it soften for you — a silent question of ‘are you okay?’ and your nod and a forced smile that told him you were okay enough.

“You can try,” his words were slow and measured, just as his steps towards you were, “but I don’t think you understand who you are dealing with,”

He tensed, fingers digging into your neck, “I know perfectly well who you are, Satoru Gojo, and I am not afraid to die by your hand for this,”

Satoru’s lips curled, “I wasn’t talking about me,”

The kidnapper’s eyes narrowed, “What?”

And you jabbed at his knee, the bone splintering under your force, but you barely hear the snap or his scream because of the blood roaring in your ears. You don’t spare a second before slamming your other hand into his head, nose breaking from your fist, blood splattering across your arm. You ready yourself for another move, before you felt him ripped away from you, a strong arm around you to steady you.

“It’s okay, I got you, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Satoru murmured, soft words meant to soothe you, as his body envelops your tense muscles, until you finally relax into his arms. Your eyes burned with tears, as you looked up at him, before your eyes slid to the kidnapper, Satoru’s hand around his throat.

“I knew you’d come for me, Toru,” you whispered, grasping onto the front of his jacket, “I knew you would,”

“I always will,” and his eyes turned to the man, voice even, “should I kill him once I’m done questioning him?”

You know he means it.

“I don’t know,” you reply, fingers curling as you pressed your face against his chest, “but I don’t want you to have blood on your hands, not for me,”

“It wouldn’t be for you. It would be for me,” he says softly, “but we can discuss it later,” and then others began to flood the scene, the sights and sounds feeling distant as your eyes drooped with exhaustion.

“Satoru, I’m—“ your voice broke, “I really tried—“

“Shh, you did great,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head, as you finally succumbed to exhaustion, slumping over in his arms, “I’ll handle the rest.”

~~~

“You all must be wondering why I called this meeting,” Satoru said, standing at the head of the Gojo clan’s meeting room. It had been long since he had stood as the head, but far too short for his liking. He had discarded this part of his life as soon as he could, joining Jujutsu Tech without a second of hesitation, and continued to run the operations of his clan as an adult, behind the scenes.

But it seems he was too lax.

It had been a few weeks since the incident. You were asleep for a good day in and out while Shoko worked on you. She came out of your room, pulling off the surgical cap off her head, and Satoru got to his feet, as Shoko removed her gloves and mask, “She’s fine, Satoru,” and he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“How bad was it?” he asks, and she tilts her head, hands slipping into her pockets.

“Are you asking that to know how badly she was injured or so you can do worse to whoever did this?” Satoru shrugs, lips parting and she holds up a hand, “never mind, the less I know, the better,” she grabs your file and opens it, ��most of her injuries related to cursed technique burn out — it seems whoever took her used curse spirits to attack her, she mentioned when she was conscious briefly that they didn’t control the curses, but they seemed to be able to work with them somehow,”

“More intelligent curses have been appearing since Yuji became Sukuna’s vessel,” Satoru murmured, but this wasn’t related to the asparagus special grade or volcano head. It was separate — it was personal.

“But all of this to take a first grade sorcerer, why?” and he shakes his head.

“It wasn’t for her — it was for me,” and that’s why they hadn’t killed you, “is she awake?”

Shoko sighed, “She should be waking up in a bit. She didn’t need much aside from some RCT treatment and stitches for the wounds she sustained,” she places a hand on his shoulder, “go see her, and try not to murder anyone until she wakes up,” she turns to leave, heels clicking.

“Wait,” Satoru stops her, and she pauses, “I need a favor.”

~~~

Satoru never liked hospitals. He hadn’t spent much time in them for actual injuries, because of his abilities. However, he spent far too much time inside medical facilities for the Gojo clan’s required medical check-ups. It was to ensure the future head’s health, he was told, but really, it was an excuse to make sure their cash cow would still give them milk.

Because that’s all he ever was — a pawn.

But he had long shed that role, tossed it from the board, when he had left for Jujutsu Tech. But even so, he lingered outside your room, some things still stuck. Especially when he had new memories — of seeing his comrades dead bodies laid on cold metal slabs.

And would you have been another if he hadn’t made it in time?

Satoru shakes his head of his thoughts, and opens the door. You were still asleep. Tucked into the hospital bed, you looked so small somehow, fragile — two things he never saw you as. How could he have? When you were the one on his first day to greet him and then slap him when he had something pretentious or childish (neither of you remembered but you had insisted it was one or the other).

And he had never let you go after that. But now…he couldn’t even hold you.

The sharp beeps of the machine monitoring your vitals, connected by the tubes and wires that ran all over your body. He reaches for his blindfold so he can look at you, really look at you, but he can’t. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into the soft of his palms,

But you were alive. You were alive. You were alive.

That’s what he had to tell himself as he drew closer to your side — no matter how you looked now, you were okay. And that’s what was most important.

“Are you going to brood by my bedside all day?” his gaze snaps to you, your eyes fluttering open still, still drooping and exhausted, but a soft smile on your lips, “Because hospitals are depressing enough, Toru,”

He chuckles, forcing his tears back and his voice to be event, “Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot to pull out the stops for you this time,” and his fingers find yours, lacing as they always did, but they felt so cold, “next time I’ll bring confetti, balloons, streamers, and I’ll serenade you even—”

You snort, “You may be the best at everything, but I know you’ll sing offkey on purpose just to piss off Shoko or anyone else that visits me,” and he laughs shakily, a sigh stuck in his throat.

He presses his forehead to yours, “I love you, so much, y’know that, yeah?”

“I love you too, so much, Toru,” you cup his cheeks, turning your head to press your lips to his hand, “thank you for saving me,”

“You saved yourself, I just cleaned up a little,” his lips find yours in a soft kiss, and your brow furrowed, “what? Are my kissing skills that bad?”

You roll your eyes, “No, but are you okay?” and he scoffs softly, shaking his head.

“You’re the one who got kidnapped and hurt, and you’re asking me if I’m—”

“Satoru, you asked me if you should murder that guy,” you tilted your head, “I know you’re not against killing if it’s necessary or deserved, but the way you said it, I got worried,”

“I’m fine, I just—” he cut off, “I just need to figure out who did this,” you squeeze his hand, “I have to,”

“Satoru—“

“I know you’re okay, but you don’t know how afraid I was that you wouldn’t be—“ he cuts off, “and it’s not just that,” his fingers curl around yours tighter, “it’s not just us we’ll have to worry about in the future. We’re already a family, but what will happen if someone targets you and our future kids?” He takes a shaky breath at the thought,

“I have to make an example.”

Your gaze grows sad, pressing a kiss to his lips, if only to ground him for a moment, “I know,” but you frown all the same, “but promise me, you won’t do anything stupid, ok?”

But he was far from stupid — but the people before him were as close as anyone could get.

“You all are aware of my wife’s attack a few weeks ago,” he said in measured words, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I’m here to tell you that she has succumbed to her wounds,” his voice wavered, breaking, “she’s gone,”

There were whispers and murmurs that swept over the room, all were silenced by the lift of a hand — one of the Gojo Clan elders, the geezer leader as he liked to call him.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Satoru,” he said, lips twisted in a fake frown, “we heard that your beloved wife passed from her injuries a week ago,”

“And yet, I see you’ve brought someone for me to meet,” his eyes slide to the woman dressed for a wedding rather than a meeting, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The woman’s painted lips kept in a neutral expression, her body so rigid he could have mistaken her as a statue if not for his six eyes, and her eyes refused to meet his.

“Satoru, I understand you are mourning, but we have to think of the future of the Gojo clan, and our future place in the Jujutsu world is only as secure as the next heir—“

“And so you thought to disrespect my wife by trying to marry your choice?” but their brows furrow as he begins to laugh, one that sends shivers down their backs.

The elders all gape at him, sharing looks, before turning back to him as his laughter finally settles into a quiet chuckle, “Satoru, what is this?”

“It’s funny that you ever thought I’d fall for this bullshit,” he pulls off his sunglasses, cerulean eyes gleaming in the low light, “did you know my wife was never supposed to be sent on this mission? Or rather, there were no reports of cursed spirits in the area, but yet, orders came for her to report to where she was,”

A hush falls over the group, “And why are you telling us this?”

“Because I think you all have forgotten your place,” in a blink, he’s grasping the neck of the elder, the very same man who had taken him away from his parents at the age of two to ensure his training was done properly, “I am the strongest, not the Gojo clan. I’m the only Gojo needed for the clan to be prosperous,”

“You insolent child—“ Satoru squeezes around his neck, gasps and whimpers clawing their way out from his grip, veins bulging as he tried and failed to pull Satoru’s hands off. He had even let the old man penetrate his infinity and all he had managed was a scratch or two.

“You should be careful when you’re talking to the ‘child’ who has your life in his hands,” and he grows silent, “now, to get back to the point, where did those orders come from?”

A quiet washed over the room, the only sounds were the shaky gasps of the elder in his hand, “W-what are—“

“I had a chat with the higher ups — those rotten old geezers may not like me, but I know they like all their limbs intact,” he drops the elder and twists his arm behind his back, wrenching back until he heard a cracking noise, “and they told me the orders came from the Gojo clan, and I wondered why would my own clan send the wife of the head off to be executed,”

“Satoru—“ one of the elders spoke, and he tilted his head.

“If you want him to die, your excuses will only make this go faster,” and his mouth shuts, “I’ll take your silence as a confirmation that all of you had a hand in this,” he sighs, removing his sunglasses, running his fingers through his hair, “man, I’ve had conspiracies against me, but I never guessed you’d target the one person I value above everything else. But I knew you would fail her little test,”

He’s met with furrowed brows and gritted teeth, the elder looking up at him in fear, “W-what?”

“You see if I had it my way, I would have killed you all, no questions asked,” his fingers close over the top of his head, wrenching him backwards to meet his gaze, “But my wife, my very much alive wife,” he adds, with a glance to the woman looking increasingly faint with each second that passes, “she would want me to see if you’d come clean about the plan and whether some of you were innocent,” his lips curl, “but she doesn’t know the bloody history of the Gojo clan like we do,” and his fingers dig into the flesh of the elder, “so what’s a few more bloodstains?”

He tears off his head, screams ringing out as a rush of scarlet paints the walls, splattering across the other elders. The woman offered to be his wife rings over the others, her shrill shriek piercing their eardrums. It’s a dull thud as the lifeless corpse falls to the floor, as Satoru wiped the blood from his cheek, a cock of his head and eyes flashing with anger.

“You can’t do this! You—“ Satoru’s fist connects with his face, blood flooding his features.

“I can, because I’ve decided the Gojo clan needs to get rid of the tumors that infect it, and besides,” his body crumples to the floor as his foot slams into their stomach, a sick, wet noise that draws gasps and open mouthed silent screams from the others, “what are you going to do about it?”

“Please, please, she’s alive—” one of them begged, all of them falling to their knees, wrinkled faces contorted in fear, blown out eyes and faces wet with tears only making them more ugly than he thought was possible — he really couldn’t end up like these geezers, “we only wanted what was best—we wanted the next head of the clan to be even more powerful than you are—”

He laughs, not an ounce of mirth or levity, shivers running down the spines of the others who watched, as he stepped over the body of the elder, lips twisted into a wide grin, “And there’s your mistake,”

He loomed over the one who spoke, shadow cast over him, as his fingers curled around his arm, before breaking it off, spurts of blood splattering on his clothes, mixing with the other — some of it flecked across his face.

Satoru wiped his face with his forearm, tilting his head. He knew they were begging and pleading — lips moving, words forming, but it all fell on deaf ears. After all they had never bothered to listen to any sorcerer before, did they? Suguru’s face came to mind — flashes of the spring he would never get back — so why should he listen to theirs?

“You were too busy worrying about the next head, when you should’ve been worried about the current one.”

~~~~

You were asleep.

Moonlight gave way to your features in the pitch black room, your soft breaths warming his fingers that ran over your cheek. Shoko had discharged you yesterday, and he had brought you home — but even now with you home, he couldn’t sleep. It felt as if you’d disappear the moment he took his eyes off you, slipping from his grasp just as you almost did.

But you didn’t. You’re here.

It was the same words you had whispered to him every night when he had curled up beside you, “I’m not going anywhere, I’m here, aren’t I?”

But you could disappear.

You could if he wasn’t there with you — if he wasn’t fast enough. Because he couldn’t be everywhere at once, not even the strongest could accomplish that. But he wanted to keep you safe all the same. Would it be selfish to lock you up? Hide you away somewhere others could never find you? Keep you hidden if only to keep you safe.

But you never would be safe, not while you were with him.

“Toru?” Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, eyes fluttering open to meet his as your fingers reach for his cheek, “is that blood?”

And he’s pinned your hands in a blink of an eye, quickly and quietly, “it’s not mine,” his gaze glows in the dark, catching the moonlight streaming in, and he’s leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Toru, what happened?” And he kisses along your cheekbones, your jaw, your nose, your chin, “Satoru—“

“I killed them,” his fingers trace the folds of the satin robe he had helped you into, brushing against the bandages that hid your wounds from his sight, but he could see them all the same, “the people who did this,”

Your brow furrows, “Toru, what do you mean the people who—“

“Why do you stay with me?” He leans down to find your lips in a bruising kiss, lips sliding against yours as his fingers undo the knot of your robe, letting the fabric fall away from your bare body.

“What—“ his lips part from yours, strings of spit connecting your mouths.

“Why do you stay with me when I’m a monster?” and your eyes soften.

“You’re not—“ and he’s cutting you off with another kiss, as your hands struggle under his grip, the other grazing down your side, finding the swell of your hip only to squeeze.

“I’m the perfect weapon,” he kisses down the side of your neck, teeth grazing against your soft flesh harshly, drawing a gasp from your lips, “I could have killed them all, because I know they all knew—“

“Knew what?”

“My clan elders — they wanted to have you die on a mission, they wanted to stage it, so they could have me marry who they wanted,” he pauses, drawing a finger down the valley of your breasts, “create a perfect heir,”

“Satoru—“

He kisses you again, swallowing your words along with your thoughts, parting only to speak, “so I killed them, I didn’t use my cursed technique, I wanted them to feel the pain they gave you, wanted them to feel a fraction of what you did,”

You can’t find a second to speak, his fingers now sliding up your bare leg, as he presses himself closer, erection against your inner thigh, “Toru, you didn’t have to put yourself through that—“

“I wanted to,” he parts your thighs easily, large palm spread against your inner thigh, fingers toying with the edge of your panties, “wanted to tear them to shreds for what they did to you — and what they wanted to do—”

“I’m okay, Satoru, I’m—” a bitter laugh leaves his throat, as his fingers find your bandages again.

“Do you call coming home half dead okay now by jujutsu sorcerer standards?” he shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair, “I told you after Suguru that I would fix this rotten jujutsu world,” he presses kisses up your thigh, “and their deaths did fix one thing — no sorcerer will touch you or our future children again, especially when they speak to the woman the clan wanted to marry off to when your body wasn’t even cold yet,”

“You left her,” and he nods, eyes unable to meet yours.

“I only killed the elders I gathered, anyone else was spared — they didn’t dig their own graves,” his hand loosens around your wrists and you reach for his cheek, cupping his cheek, despite the blood, “I don’t regret it, I’d kill anyone who hurts you, but I didn’t want you to see me like this,”

“Like what?”

“Like a monster,” and you click your tongue, his eyes flitting to yours.

“You’re my Satoru, not a monster, you did what you did to protect me, protect our family,” you murmur, “that’s just about the most Satoru thing you could do,”

“But—“

“And if you are deemed a monster anyway?” You lean up, fingers smearing the blood against your own cheek, “then I’ll just become a monster with you,”

He crashes into you with a kiss, cupping your cheeks, as his tongue slips into your mouth, “can you really be a monster, sweetheart?”

He drags his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your soft flesh along the hollow of your throat, “T-Toru—“ and his lips find the swell of your breasts, his tongue dragging over your pert nipple, while his fingers hook into the elastic of your panties, snapping it against your skin, “y’know I can be, I would be, for you,”

He peers up through half lidded eyelids, his thumb drags down your puffy bottom lip, “I can’t imagine someone so sweet like you as one,” he murmurs, as he pulls back, lips slick with spit, as he drags his fingers toying with the soaked fabric of your panties, “and I wouldn’t want to drag you down with me,”

Your fingers reach forward, propping yourself up on your other arm, “Drag me or not,” you cup his chin, “you’re stuck with me,”

“Can we make it a binding vow?” you roll your eyes, and his lips curl for the first time since he’s got here, “c’mon sweets, I have to get my reassurance somehow,”

You hold up the giant rock on your finger, the very diamond you had told Satoru was too much, “this wasn’t enough—” the last word is a bite back gasp, as he noses at the drenched crotch of your underwear, a deep inhale that has you squirming, “No, Toru—” but he’s pinned your thighs down, prying them open, as he gazes up at you.

“Uh-uh, princess, I don’t remember saying you could move, especially when you could reopen your wounds,” his nose bumps against your clothed clit, a wicked smile as he drags his tongue over the already wet fabric, “you still haven’t seen how much of a monster I can be.”

~~~

“Ngh, Toru, can’t, I can’t—” but you can — you know you can from the heat building in your sloppy cunt under already soaked through sheets, and he knows too well you can too, from the way your pussy flutters around his three fingers, knuckle deep as they piston in and out, while his mouth toys with your abused clit, “please—”

You lost track of how many times you had orgasmed — his fingers, his mouth, and sometimes both — he had pulled each one after the other, allowing small reprieves, only to bury himself back in. He had even had you ride his face at one point, and you were sure he’d suffocate under your drenched cunt, until he flipped you on your back again.

“Please what, sweets?” he slows his fingers, curling them a certain way that makes your lips fall open, “you’ll have to use your words,” he pulls back.

Chest heaving, chin glistening with your release, his tongue cleaned his lips off before he wiped the rest off, before pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs. And soon enough, his fingers were sinking back into your messy pussy, splitting you open with his thick fingers.

“Didn’t you say you wanted this, sweetheart?” his words cut through the wet squelch of his digits fucking you open, “wanted to drag you down with you, wanted this—” and he sucks hard at your clit, tongue flicking over it, making your back arch, “wanted me to drag you down with me,” and he punctuates it with a thrust of his fingers, brushing against a spot that has you seeing spots, “gotta make good on your promise, and I have to erase all the pain they gave you,”

And you barely manage to latch onto the desperation in his voice, the way the facade flickers.

He fucks you ever so slightly deeper, and you cum hard, tearing through you as your body tenses, pleasure washing over you as it did every single other time, melding into the others, “Good girl,” he murmurs, as he works his fingers through your orgasm, the slick noises becoming white noise, until he finally pulls the digits from inside you.

Your eyes flutter open to the sight of him licking his digits clean one by one of your cum, his lips curled in a soft smile as they meet your gaze, his hand sliding up your thigh gently as it quaked, the very same fingers he had used to murder the people that hurt you, were so gentle when it was you — he was always so gentle when it was you.

But never himself.

You reach up for him, palm cupping his cheek, while the other finds his bare shoulder — clothes long discarded, “I love you,” and the cracks spread, spider webbing from the epicenter, “you know that right?”

His words seem caught in the back of his throat, “Even now?”

“Especially now,” and he’s pressing you against the mattress again, your thighs folded against your chest, legs slung over his shoulders, “you saved me,”

His gaze softened, “you saved me first,” and again and again, he couldn’t count the number of times you did, by just existing, pressing a kiss to the side of your thigh, “but if I’m too late next time?”

“You can’t be everywhere,” your fingers lace with his, “and I just need you,” and still in this situation, his ego can inflate at your praise — nosing at your thigh, a deep inhale, before dragging his tongue up the side of your leg, “only you.”

He drags his weeping erection over your soaked folds, leaking tip teasing your slit while he watched his pre mix with yours, “Think you need more than just me,” and when he lets the tip sink into you, your lips part with his name, just as your walls part for him, “want something else, wifey?”

“You’re the worst,” you look up at him, lips curling despite your pout, your fingers grasping at the sheets under you, as your cunt tries to swallow him whole, “Toru, how long are you going to tease me for?”

And he’s pulling out only to draw a groan from your lips, “If you’re such a monster, thought you could take it—“ and your hand reaches for him, tugging him close by his neck.

“I swear to god, if you don’t fuck me right now—“

He grins, “If you insist,”

Fuck.

He sinks into you all at once, all too fast and all too slow, balls deep as he bottoms out inside you, your walls fluttering only to pull him deeper, “fuck,” your head falls back as his tip brushes against your cervix, “too fucking big, I swear if you rip my stitches open—”

“You don’t think I cleared this before I decided to do this, baby?” He grunts, glancing down to see how your messy hole stretched open as he sunk into you, “can’t believe anyone thought I’d fuck anyone but you — you’re the only one for me, sweetheart,”

You couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicker to your pussy stuffed full with his huge dick, “You talking to me or my cunt—“ and he begins to fuck you, remark undercut by the moan that he pulled from your lips, “f-fucker—“

“That’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it sweetheart?” the lewd sounds of skin slapping together filled the room, his soft grunts and your moans, “wanted me to fuck you open, yeah?” and he wanted this, needed this after this week — it had been too long since he felt you under him like this — real and alive, his name leaving your swollen, kiss bitten lips.

And you needed it just the same — needed his fingers to dig into the softness of your thighs, needed the way only he could fill every inch of you, needed the soft murmurs of how good you felt, how much he loved you.

“Fuck, Toru, so fast,” you whine, but how could slow down he when you felt so good — so wet and warm, you had joked he could cum just looking at you alone barely a fist around his dick, but it was true — and being inside you just made him unravel completely, all sense of himself lost and drowning in just you, “hngh, it’s so deep,” you babble, tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

“That’s right, sweetheart, gonna fuck you deep, gotta make sure you feel it don’t I?” he coos, and his hand snakes between your thighs, pressing his palm to the bulge in your stomach, making you gasp as your walls clench around him, drawing a grunt from his lips, “that’s it, good girl,”

You keen at his praise, the wet squelch of your cunt around his cock ringing in your ears, balls slapping against your pussy with a rhythm that echoes in your head, as your body arches into him, needing him deeper, harder, faster. He’s nearly rutting into you, his thrusts growing shallow as you clamp down on him, achingly close.

“Those old fucking geezers don’t know what they were talking about—“ he grunts, running his mouth all the same even as he sunk impossibly fucking deeper, “don’t know this is the only cunt I’d ever breed. The only one I’d ever breed. The only one I can. Know why?” And you only can whimper, as his fingers rub against your clit, “because this is the only one made for my cum,”

And his words push you over the edge, cumming hard and fast, head lolling back, as his tip bullies your womb, as he fucks you hard over and over through your orgasm, sending pleasure ripping up your spine. Satoru groans as he feels you spasm, soaking in him in your juices, as he watches a white ring of your cum form around the base of his dick, dripping onto the clean sheets with the evidence of your arousal.

He can’t hold back.

He rails into you, a moan of your name falling past your lips making you pull him close, shifting your legs around his back just so he can sink into you even a centimeter deeper—

“Fuck, g’nna cum,” he’s meeting your glazed over eyes, knowing “gonna fill you up, yeah? Get you nice and round with my baby,” he groans at the thought, the image of you carrying his kid, stomach swollen as you grow his child, “and they’ll know, all of them, that you’re the only one I’d cum in,” and he’s so close, dick twitching as your arms around his neck tug him close.

“Cum in me, Toru, give me our baby,” and that’s it, he’s spilling inside you, spurting his hot release inside, again and again, as he fucks it deeper, filling you up.

“That’s it, take every drop,” he’s relentless, until he finally eases from you, his release trickling out. A soft sigh parts your lips that grows into a sharp gasp as he’s already flipping you over onto your stomach.

“Toru—” you whine.

“Aw did you think we were done sweetheart?” a pillow cushions your still bandaged stomach, placed underneath to support you, a shudder down your body as he rubs his cock against you, as he leans down, hot words murmured against your ear with a grin, before he sinks back into you with one thrust, stuffing his spilling cum back inside, “One thing about monsters are that we also have monstrous stamina.”

~~~

It was early, but Satoru was already awake.

He always had trouble sleeping, but now? His eyes found your sleeping form beside him, under the covers and safe, just as he had left you that morning. He didn’t know if he’d ever sleep more than three hours now. He brushed the back of his knuckles over your cheek, but you needed sleep — one of three things you never could live without (food and himself being the other two). And you definitely needed it now, after he had kept you up — nearly all night.

You shifted in your sleep, revealing several blooming hickies and love bites he had littered your body with, lips curling at the sight, as he pulled the blanket back up around you.

He was selfish — he should have divorced you the moment he had gotten you back. Let you leave because it was the right thing to do — to let you live a life safe without him. But he couldn’t — because he couldn’t imagine waking another morning, spending another day without knowing where you were, how you were doing.

It was selfish. But you let him be — especially when it came to you.

And his phone vibrates on the nightstand, whirring again and again, as he picks it up with a sigh, Yaga’s name flashing on the display. He takes one last glance at you before slipping from bed, stepping into the living room.

“Sensei! To what—“ he hardly gets a word out before screams fill his ears. He rubs his chin, it was too early for this.

He makes out the words — Gojo clan, dead, scandal, murder (wasn’t sure if he meant if he was going to murder Gojo or he meant what happened to the elders).

“It was a clan dispute, there was no need to tell you,”

Satoru held the phone away from his ear, Yaga’s yelling told him everything he needed to know, “Yeah, yeah, I know, the higher ups know — or they probably do by now,” he almost chuckles at the thought, and how he would love to do the same to them — knuckles white as he grips his phone — love to make them feel the same pain the sorcerers cared nothing for felt, make them—

Arms curl around him from behind and he knows it’s you, his body relaxing into your touch with practiced ease, your face buried in his back. His fingers relax, finding yours, tracing over the back, as he lifts one hand to his lips.

—But it wasn’t the time for that.

“Fine, fine, no need to have a heart attack, old man — I’ll talk to them tomorrow,” Yaga was still speaking until Satoru hung up, turning to face yoy, your eyes half closed as his fingers found your cheek, “what are you doing awake, sweets?”

His lips curl as you lean into his touch, “you weren’t next to me when I woke up,” you murmur, nose brushing against his fingers as your eyes flutter open and closed, “how am I supposed to sleep when my pretty husband isn’t next to me?”

“Just pretty?” and you snort, as his arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you to his chest, your head right over his heart, a content sigh on your lips.

“Are you ever serious?”

“Always,” and you smile up at him, chin resting against him, “what is it? Do I got something on my face?”

“You think our baby will have your pretty face?” You hum, and his gaze softens at the thought, “I hope so,”

He grins, “You do huh? And here I thought my ego didn’t need more stroking,”

“It doesn’t, but my husband deserves every bit of praise he gets — because he doesn’t get enough,” you kiss him softly, nose bumping against his.

“You planning on showering me with your praise, sweetheart?” And your lips finds his again.

“Always,” and he’s leading you back towards the bedroom, “where are you—“ you squeal as he scoops you up into his arms and carries you back to bed, gently placing you down, a grin on his lips.

He drags his thumb down your kiss ruined lips, “Do you think I’m gonna let you leave this bed without breeding you right?” He clicks his tongue, “I’m far from done with you, wifey,”

You’re so beautiful, hair spread on the pillow like a halo, “So we’re not leaving until I’m pregnant?” Your fingers brush against his cheek, “we might be here a while,”

Satoru wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

He kisses you again, long and languid, “There’s nothing I want more than to stay in bed with you.”

✧ a/n: sorry i've been gone for a bit!! i got super busy with work and got hella writer's block and right when i was feeling ready to write-- i got sick. but i'm doing much better now!!

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