#it can go here too. heh

[todayisafridaynight]

[st4rstudent]

[loud] Out of context thing from twt parody accounts

here's a bonus drawing from the same acc

[sergle]

also the way that person with the pink tags was so immediately ready to infantalize darshen and eager to go ohhh yes Responsible Heterosexual Man takes care of his Childlike Frail Homosexual Friend. like that was somehow more palatable of an interpretation than them just being together

[simcardiac-arrested]

never volunteer for anything university related man. also go listen to this

[front-facing-pokemon]

[hana-bobo-finch]

i hardly ever mention Glad for some reason. you. you know the one. the cousin. the mouthless one. bellona’s cousin that I have probably only mentioned once but she does actually do stuff in the plot. yknow. i only have concept sketches of her but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[honeyteastar]

Illegal street racing especially motorcycle type racing, meaning that heiji goes to one idk something something probably relating to the org and this is 100% for helping Kudo mind you his ass wouldn’t go to one especially with his bike (I have looked into it and apparently is not opt for actual racing) let’s 100% my evil hc that heiji is a motorcycle head (motorcycle enjoyer moment) BUT HES LIKE CASUAL YKNOWW anyway something something org related aside from case related moment so he signing up for it and he’s 100% underdog moment also kaito is here too.

Smirks this is actually a kaihei/heikai thing btw because ouaghh motorcycle boyfriends please on my knees anyways heiji takes a turn wayy to sharp or worst he legitimately falls (he breaks his fall btw expert of crashing and going insane with his bike <3) and but sadly kinda landed wrong so he’s out of da game but fortunately for him kaito saw that and he goes back n like help heiji, which at first heiji is like “fuck shouldn’t done that but it isn’t the worst but huh taken <insert injury here>” and he limps and gets his bike Kaito is like try’s to help but heiji is like no thanks <- stubborn moment but kaito legit just grabs him and carries him :3c MIND YOU HEIJI DOESNT KNOW THATS LIKE KAITO LMAOOO Kaito entered the race for his own information gaining or something so when rocking fully like all black n stuff so somewhat anonymous moment but he does yap and heiji is like there’s no way its Kudo. Then it’s not like ok nvm… but funny enough me thinks Kaito kinda talks that oh that’s a very stupid thing to do and like highly dangerous and etc with heiji type of bike in this setting and heiji is like 💢 yes i know! And they squabble about it lmao me thinks they bonk each other helmets like omg kissing… also something something down the line you get heiji actually recognizing kaito bike one day while visiting Kudo and just trails it lol and taaadaaa that’s how they meet each other

You can say ig this is a pre relationship thing going on but I really wanted the motorcycle stuff between the two bc is right there guys…

[suusoh]

I'm not able to fully respond to anyone right now, in the event I post something, it's with the intent of just removing it out of my drafts.

But I'd like to let the anon who sent their very long, honest, heartfelt, and overall very moving ask that I have received it and that my askbox, thankfully, didn't gobble up such a wonderful message. I'd like to give you a proper and equally heartfelt response when I am able my dear anon <3 along with other thoughtful asks sent on this blog or the other.

[ace4thespades]

Why do you like bunnies so much? Clubs is very cute by the way, squish them cheeks

Its because I’m a bunny too :)

[kalosian-woods]

Hello!!! I don’t know if your taking requests for snippets rn, but would you be able to write something about XY’s mirror world? It is tRAGICALLY underrated and I saw what YIU wrote for it a bit ago and loved it! Thanks if so :DD

Tysm, I'm happy that it resonated with you so well!!! :D It really is an underrated piece of lore from XY, which is part of anipoke's general weirdness about deep mythos that can get dropped but never really delved into, especially as it is considered a 'filler' ep. But hey, my goal is to delve into whatever I can get my hands on within Kalos and so here we are heh.

Going to write up a snippet for you, but beware, very exposition-y. Might as well make the best of both worlds (lol).

__________________________________________________

“A mirror world?”

Ash bit his lip as he watched the ground, seeing a slice of his face on it. It’s strange, hearing her voice without any of the bite. One part of him wished it was there all the same. “Well, this can’t be my world. You’re all so… different.”

The sound of screeching and scratching reached his ears, and he cowered for a moment. This Clemont is more occupied with cold metal, bending it to his will with force that is nowhere on his face or tone, and that is strange too. Back in his world, his Clemont will always be tracking mud from some arcane spell or running race. His face will always be stuck in a proud grin, his mouth always running with some sort of retort or boastful explanation. Ash briefly wondered if his Clemont would believe him about this world.

“So, how are we like in your world, then?” And that’s Bonnie. Or at least, this world’s Bonnie. In his world, she wouldn’t really give him the time of day. She was proud of her role in orbiting her older brother, just as her older brother was proud of his strength and skill.

Ash stuck a finger on the ground, skirting around the reflective surface. “Well, you see, I’m just a new Trainer. I came to Kalos because I heard that I could get stronger there, and that’s where I met all of you.”

Some silence. Then, “So we’re all still travelling with each other in your world?”

I didn’t want to, not really, flashed into his mind at her voice, but Ash forced himself to nod. “You were a strong Trainer. You said you could help me. And, uh, Clemont came around too. He was tired of being in his Gym and wanted to see everything outside, so he took a break and came with us.”

“I did what?!” this Clemont gasped as Bonnie laughed beside him. Ash could slightly detect a sad note behind that.

He shrugged. The inventor, because that’s what he is, picked up the screwdriver he dropped and went back to work. Ash thought he was out of the conversation before he heard a tentative, “So, what kind of Gym? Were we still in Lumiose?”

“You always were.” ‘The perfect place for everyone to see my brilliance!’. “Ground Type. You were fourth in the Gym Challenge.”

“So the order is reversed?” She sounded interested as she sat back. “That must be interesting. Or, since that’s all you know…”

“That’s okay.” Ash didn’t even know what to say to that. It just came out, like instinct. He could feel that questioning look again, and he scratched the ground harder. “You were always interested in the Gym Challenge, even though you said it was too easy. You— I mean, the other Serena. My one. She was very strong. My Clemont said she could be Champion if she put her mind to it.” And some other choice words that none of them needed to know.

“That’s funny.” This Bonnie stuck her tongue out as she thought to herself. “Our Ash is very strong. He’s brave too, and so are his Pokemon, you know, and he’s always sticking around with Pikachu.”

“Really?” Ash couldn’t help it. He hears Pikachu’s name and its like his heart is opening, is open, is ready to receive that love in any shape or form as long as it is yellow and bright and full of electricity and sparking cheeks.

This Bonnie nodded. “Yeah! He’s the one challenging the Gyms here. He didn’t get to challenge Clemont though…”

“That’s because we made a promise!” this Clemont barked out, cheeks going red, and the three shared a small laugh as Ash thought to himself, legs drawn up but slightly lowering as the conversation flows on, fingers free from the ground itself. It was weird that Bonnie was calling her brother by name. Weird that Clemont wouldn’t take on any challenge head-on, and weird that they were all friendly like this.

“Okay, okay, what colour is the sky there?”

“It’s green.”

But it’s nice.

“What Pokemon do you have?”

“Uh, Froakie, Fletchling, and Hawlucha. They’re not really battlers, though.”

It’s warm.

“Then what do you do?”

“Nothing much.”

“C’mon! I’m sure there’s something you like. Oh, oh, can I help find it?”

“I guess…”

Maybe, in a different world, he would belong here. And maybe that version of him… will appreciate it as much as he does. Or at least he hopes so.

This world was so kind. Ash hopes that nothing bad will befall it.

He hopes that this world can keep going on and on, as beautiful as his other friends has made it out. And he hopes that this own world can learn to be kind too, and that maybe he can be kinder as well, and maybe he can be the one to start the change. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

(Clemont adds the final adjustment to the new machine he is building, and the mirror shines with all of their faces on one surface. Ash does not shy away. Even with her in the picture.

This isn’t his group after all. Over here, this is just Serena, and he is just Ash. No crybaby here.)

In a world with a green sky and a cave with jutting mirrors, a Pikachu stands and fights the invaders.

He knows that they are not the heroes of justice. He knows that they are twisted and wrong and bad, but this Pikachu has faced down titans and land-movers and Psychics with powers that no mind can even comprehend, so he will fight and he will not back down.

That Meowth, smarmy and with a backwater accent, calls out, “What’s wrong with you, Pikachu? Aren’t you going to run back to your Trainer?”

He briefly remembers those tears in those brown eyes. He shakes his head and roars, a sharp, scratchy sound, a sound that has cowed the creator himself. That Meowth winces, and the humans step up, glints in their eyes that betrays a hunger like no other.

“Who cares about the Twerp? Let’s just catch him now, while we still can!” The woman swings over the device, such a strange contraption for villains wearing the face of heroes that prefer action with their own two hands, and he slams it down with Iron Tail. They grimace, and then try again, and again.

Pikachu will not back down. Pikachu will fight, because his Trainer cannot do it alone and he is all his Trainer has left.

And so he attacks and attacks and attacks until he has no more.

And when they reach towards him, black gloves so foreign on their familiar hands, he bites and scratches and buys time. He will make it hard for them, because the world is hard and he is hard and his Ash is so soft, too soft, and so Pikachu will do anything for him.

Anything.

And so he does not give up the fight. Even as they push him inside the device. Even as they crow that his electricity will not penetrate it, because his powers has challenged skies and space and Pikachu will be with Ash and that is a promise.

And Pikachu does not break his promise.

[everythingisarabbithole]

what if I started making videos

[vicit-vim-virtus]

[ 08 ] a rowdy village tavern crowded with drunk, singing patrons [For Luran]

The rain walloped persistently against the window panes while the thunder rumbled furiously in the distance, yet neither affected the merry dispositions of the townsfolk and travellers who’d sought refuge from the storm in the local tavern. The ambience was lively and the patrons, despite being inebriated, were good-humoured — none harnessed malevolence. Some were entangled in precarious games involving gambling, spoke boisterously of adventures and recounted tales of yore; chanted and danced — not a sliver of inhibition left — while the band performed an energetic, yet rather repetitive melody.

There was food and alcoholic beverages in abundance, although the food lacked the absurdly high-quality the elf was accustomed to. Still, it could’ve been worse — at least, the cuisine served in this establishment was edible... The gaiety and warmth made up for most of the tavern’s shortcomings, and he’d always favour a crowded bar over the uninspiring walls of his study, whether the food was atrocious or not.

Although Luran did not personally participate in the merrymaking, he did enjoy himself, until the band was relieved by a human duo: a man playing the dulcimer and a woman who announced herself as the singer. She looked pretty, but that was about it. “Singer” was... too generous a term for someone with her “singing” voice — ghoul or banshee would probably have been more apposite. And to make matters worse, she was attempting to sing in Elvish, but she got every inflection and every conjugation — and basically everything else that had something to do with grammar — wrong.

Luran beheld the abject performance — if one could even call it that — with an expression of unadulterated horror; his features contorted in discomfort, as if he was suffering from a severe case of indigestion. Most of the townsfolk were too intoxicated to consciously register the poor quality of this performance and remained in a state of ignorant bliss — if only he had been so fortunate...

However, her screeching and erroneous usage of grammar did earn her some disparagements. A moderate choir of patrons booed her, and a man, seated behind the elf, grumbled: “Appalling...”

‘Get off the stage!’ a female voice yelled.

‘Shut up, you hag, it’s her debut!’ someone else sneered back.

A deep sigh escaped Luran’s lips while he picked up his tankard of ale — he was too sober to witness these kinds of shenanigans.

‘If only I could tear off my ears,’ he mumbled into his tankard, ‘but they’re two of my finest assets... Granted, I have other delectable assets that could easily compensate for their loss, but it wouldn’t be ideal...’

And just when he thought he’d weathered most of the banshee’s song, she whipped out a recorder flute and started to play, without hitting a single note, and always, always playing out of tune and offbeat.

‘I’m not one to tread on other people’s dreams and ambitions, but it’s moments like these that I wish I were. The aural torment,’ he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand and fortuitously locking eyes with the woman sitting adjacent to him. ‘I hope she’s not your friend, if she is... apologies, I intended for my criticism to sound constructive.’

[crmsndragonwngss]

I'd believe it and take it all The great design Life is fleeting It’s dawning on me that hope is blinding I was just dying to catch my breath To numb the fear within my chest Life is fleeting It’s dawning on me (The sun will never rise again)

[kurooh]

☆ US AFTER POUNDTOWN ! — JJK

⊹₊˚. what aftercare looks like with gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso.

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, intimacy, cleanup, fluff, no graphic smut, pillowtalk, showering, brief discussions of pregnancy and kids. i needed to write this okay

GOJO SATORU.

silky pink ribbons slide off of satoru’s wrists, curling into themselves once they hit the bedsheets. he can’t help but watch you, more wide-eyed and teary than he should be, as you take each wrist between your fingers and rub gently. his skin is flushed where he’d been securely tied to the headboard, and it doesn’t hurt in the least, especially when compared to fights he’s been at the center of.

you hum, thumb kindly sweeping over his pulse point. “you okay, ‘toru? i know that went on a little longer than usual.”

you watch as he blinks, diamond eyes glassy with traces of euphoria. he’s still coming down, he realizes, when your words bounce around his brain after you speak them, echoing endlessly in the space.

“i’m okay, sweetheart,” satoru replies, feeling something in his chest begin to melt when you settle beside him on the bed. the air still smells faintly of sex, though the scent rides away on the breeze filtering in through an open window. it is almost completely dark in the bedroom, to make the strain on his eyes a little easier after a long day—he closes them, automatically wrapping a strong arm around you.

“there’s a new restaurant a few blocks down,” you begin, fingers reverently stroking over the curve of his side, “many of the reviews mention the dessert and sweet treats. it’s supposed to be good.”

fully nude, satoru curls against you, taking note of how easily you fit in beside him. like you were always meant to be here, something whispers in the back of his head. “heh, sounds like you’ve already vetted ‘em. i’ll take a day off next week and we can go.”

“you’re always so busy,” you tease, pulling him closer as though he might just slip away when you fall asleep. as you breathe, satoru feels the swell and sink of your back beneath his palm, and he considers maybe not going to work tomorrow. as if he could take days off on a whim—he might be the strongest in the jujutsu world, but he can’t even make his own choices. then, more quietly, you murmur, “i hope you aren’t overworking yourself too much, satoru.”

when he replies “‘m not,” reflexively, your body momentarily goes rigid, as if he wasn’t meant to hear you. before you can look up and refute him, satoru tugs you closer, making sure to sit his chin atop your shoulder. “really, angel, i’m okay. i can totally handle it.”

he totally can’t, even if he won’t admit it to himself. but satoru doesn’t want you to worry, get caught up with his issues during your day to day—this is simply what comes with the weight of ‘the strongest’ as his title. you huff like you don’t entirely believe him, although you don’t pull away.

“if i don’t pry any further, do you promise to sleep more than three hours tonight? and in this bed, not at work.”

you’re not even asking that much of him. if satoru can wipe out hundreds of curses in less than five minutes, he can definitely try to sleep until sunrise. at home. when there’s work to do. right?

he bites his lip, protesting weakly, “i don’t need to sleep, though, baby. i’ve also gotta get in early to deal with the first years.”

the coolness of sheets in an empty bed flashes through your head, and you decide to push, though there’s a tinge of selfishness behind it all. “please? you still need to rest and let your technique cool down.”

it’s not that difficult to convince satoru to stay after all, especially when he’s feeding off your body heat and you his. the bed does feel more comfortable than his office chair, and just as he comes to this realization, a headache has the nerve to come on, only persuading him further. slowly, like he’s submerging himself in a pool, his body begins to succumb to the comfort of the queen bed, the softness of your skin, the sweet smell of your body wash.

“fineeee. but only because you asked so nicely, angel.”

GETO SUGURU.

“i’ll get the water started for you, honey.”

so he does, turning on the faucet and letting the water heat up as it rushes through the pipes, then out of the shower head in a warm spray. from your seat on the toilet, you can’t help but feel a lovesick, fuzzy warmth building in your chest.

muscle ripples in suguru’s back as he carefully takes down his hair, undoing the band to allow the dark tresses to fall past his shoulders. his hair is impeccably taken care of—he lavishes it in only the best shampoos and conditioners every few days, his side of the shower almost overtaking your own. it’s made up of hair products and a few scented bars of soap, the way a shower should look. (not barren and home to a single bottle of two in one, two dove bars, and a dull razor, like satoru’s.)

when the glass door slides shut and suguru steps into the spray, you hear him exhale with relief. the toilet flushes and you stand, joining him in the shower.

“i’ll wash your hair,” you say, as if it’s second nature. though it seems simple on the surface, he’s allowing you to touch one of the most intimate parts of him—his scalp has only known his own hands, and yours, on the occasion that you help him wash it. “shampoo, please.”

suguru laughs, angling the shower head down so you don’t get too wet. shampoo is squirted into your extended, expectant palm and the ritual begins.

“are we taking more showers after sex specifically so i can wash your hair, suguru?”

there has been an increase in the amount of showers after sex. he’ll make a mess of you on the couch, drink some water afterward, and carry you to the bathroom like a princess to her chariot. you can’t quite place your finger on when, but you’d started washing his hair at some point during your baths.

“the curses really have been . . taking a toll on my arms,” he says cheekily, settling on that excuse just to hear you laugh, “perhaps i’ve been having difficulty reaching back and dealing with my hair.”

suguru’s got quite the mane, which anyone could surmise just from looking at him. but as wet hair slides through your fingers, you can see why he likes your help so much. you’re gentle with him, making sure to never yank on anything as you make your way through his hair. even the light sensation of your nails raking along his scalp relaxes him deeply, and all the tension in his shoulders bleeds out and washes down the drain, along with the suds.

“yeah, okay. if i mess up one of my arms, you’re outta luck.”

“we could take epsom baths together, so then you’d have no excuse.”

it’s endearing, the way he’s able to come up with a solution so quickly. you laugh again, light and airy in the thick steam, and suguru decides he never wants to leave this place.

“wash my back while the shampoo sits, sugu?” you ask, switching places with him to get your back thoroughly doused with water. white suds slip down his temples and he pushes back his hair from where it’s piled on top of his head, looking like a child’s sloppy sand castle on the beach.

“want me to pick the body wash this time?”

“that’s a trick question,” you say, eyes sparkling when you look at him, “you’re just going to choose peppermint vanilla like always.”

suguru already has the bottle in his grasp and is squeezing the wash out into his palm, but he still manages to look affronted. “no, i wouldn’t.”

you turn around, stepping out of the spray to playfully wiggle your ass at him. “i can barely smell it anymore, that’s how much you’ve worn it out.”

“it’s your smell,” he shrugs, shoulders rolling with the motion, “it’s your signature soap scent. you can always cover it up with perfume tomorrow anyway, it’s not that strong.”

“is that why you’re always sniffing me at night?”

you can hear him breathing you in when you’re cuddling at night? embarrassing! still, his eyes crinkle at the corners. “it’s comforting, so sue me.”

you sigh in relief when his hands coast over your skin, palms firmly pressing the soap into your back to both wash you and make the scent stick. a comfortable quiet settles between you, and he continues to lave your back with the wash, fingertips tracing the dents and lines of muscle.

it’s domestic, and entirely him.

he pauses, sputtering and gracelessly coughing on the water. “i’m sorry.”

you turn, helping him rinse the bubbles away from his face. “what’s wrong, sugu?”

“not to ruin the moment, but, well, i got soap in both my eyes.”

NANAMI KENTO.

“i can’t believe you made me breakfast, ken.”

kento returns to the bedroom with one of those lap trays made for eating at the couch, carrying a plate of fluffy waffles garnished with a colorful array of sweet berries. there’s even a full cup of syrup on the side to pour to your heart’s content.

he’s pulled on his boxers, the ones that are tight around his ass, and an apron with kiss the cook in calligraphic script embroidered across the front of it. a smile plays on his lips, the kind he wears when he’s biting back an ear-to-ear grin, and he takes a seat beside you. your excitement is something he thinks he’ll never get tired of. with a creak, the bed dips under the newly added weight, and you carefully slot the tray over your lap.

“how’d you know i was craving something sweet?”

“sweetheart, i know you,” kento shakes his head, laughing around the words. “go ahead and try them, i added something new.”

red blooms around the bite marks littered across his collarbone and around his chest, only becoming visible with his occasional shifts beside you. kento watches you eat with a distinct softness in his eyes, his heart swelling in his chest as your face lights up with every bite.

light and sweet as can be, the waffles burst with flavor, although a small tweak has been made to the recipe. maybe kento’s added finely chopped coconut or a few extra spoonfuls of sugar?

“you’re staring,” you point out, cheeks growing warm. his gaze is obviously lovesick, and strong enough to make you feel the littlest bit shy—a hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck, and he looks away with a short chuckle. “we can share, ken.”

“that’s okay, honey. i had some while i was making them earlier. so, how do they taste? have you figured out the extra ingredient yet?”

“i’ve got no idea,” you reply after a large bite, setting the fork back on the tray before gently nudging it away. kento’s forearms flex as he lifts it, placing it on the bedside table for later.

he unties the apron and scoops you into his arms, pulling your giggling form close to his chest. “i decided to add more buttermilk.”

a warm kiss is pressed to the space beneath your ear. through your back, you can feel his heartbeat syncing up with your own—relaxed and content in the presence of one another.

“thank you for this morning,” kento whispers, adding, “was i too rough with you, angel?”

“perfect, ken. you almost put me back to sleep, though.”

you share a laugh with him, curling up in his warmth. kento’s fingers trace mindless, ticklish doodles into your side as he begins to slip further into a state of drowsiness. “i don’t like to make excuses, but i find it difficult to hold myself back with you.”

the admission isn’t inherently sexual, not in the way it’s said so delicately. kento is right, he does have difficulty holding back, but only because he’s so known. you’re essentially on the same wavelength, finishing his sentences for him before even he’s able to conjure up the word he’s looking for; you understand him wholly, in the kind of way that transcends the surface and physicality of it all. unspoken feelings make no difference—kento’s open like a book for only your eyes to pore over.

even now, in this embrace, it’s nearly impossible to tell where one body begins and the other ends.

“all mine?”

“all yours, ken. pinkie promise.”

“pinkie promise?” he sighs without exasperation, letting you loop your pinkie with his own. if this wasn’t something he was doing with you, kento would be the first to ask something like isn’t this a bit childish? but this isn’t like making an agreement with gojo; this is a promise he wholeheartedly intends to fulfill. after all, what would he be if he wasn’t yours?

“pinkie promise.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“on your stomach.”

you turn back to throw him an incredulous look, eyebrows drawing together in surprise. “more? toji, i thought you—”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes and motioning toward the couch cushions. “yes, ya heard me. on your stomach, doll. don’t make me ask again.”

“don’t make me ask again,” you mimic him, flopping forward onto your belly as requested. it’s odd that toji’s even vying for more when he’s the one who tapped out first, panting so hard he could barely form a sentence of explanation beyond a few muttered words.

instead of positioning himself at your ass, toji remains sitting beside you, though he turns to press his hands into your upper back. faint as can be, the scent of lavender curls in the air as the worship begins—toji’s suddenly a professional at effleurage, palms circling upward near your shoulder blades.

slow and firm, his hands seem to iron out any aches that may have taken root there. lotion spans almost the entirety of your upper back, serving as both moisturizer and lubrication for the easy glide of skin against skin.

“really, toji?” you ask, lips curling up in amusement, “you wanted to give me a back massage?”

you completely expect him to retort something sassy and annoying, maybe even call you a damn brat or start torture tickling you. instead, toji’s voice rumbles low and meaningful from his chest. “had ya laid out on your back for a while, and on the couch, no less. jus’ wanted to make sure you’d be able to sleep comfortably tonight.”

toji’s answer does something that it never has before. it shuts you up, and at the same time, makes heat rush to your cheeks. embarrassment and a particular fondness, of all things, stir in your chest at his thoughtfulness. you haven’t messed around on the couch in many months, and yet he still remembers the small, almost unnoticeable hunch of your back after getting up last time.

he laughs at you, feeling proud to have finally ‘won’ all the bantering.

“didn’t expect that, huh?” toji pauses, fingertips lightly dragging down the planes of your back. before he even speaks, you can already hear the smirk in his voice. “anyway, i wish ya could see how pretty you look right now.”

“you can’t even see my face, toji.”

a huff escapes him, and he makes sure to dig his fingers in, just so he can hear you squeal in both laughter and pain. “just can’t take a compliment, huh? you’re such a brat, swear to god.”

“your brat,” you remind him cheerfully, feeling his hands slide to the middle of your back. “as much as i’m enjoying this, i wouldn’t mind taking care of you, baby.”

he snorts. you’re calling him baby like he isn’t 6’3 and nearly 200 pounds of muscle—but there’s something endearing about the idea of being taken care of too. toji actually . . . wouldn’t mind it.

“oh yeah? and what do ya plan to do to me?”

you hum thoughtfully, turning your head around to fix him with a playful look. “i’d turn on one of the movies i’ve been telling you we need to watch and then scratch your back so you wouldn’t get up in the middle of it.”

“this better not be about—”

before he can begin trashing on your favorite movie, the one he hasn’t watched yet, you bulldoze right over him. “as the movie starts, i’d be whispering sweet nothings into your ear.”

“wouldn’t that just make me bend ya over? kinda defeats the purpose of aftercare, doll.”

“the key word is sweet, toji,” even with your clarification, he still looks a little lost, making the same confused face he does when shiu cracks a sly joke at his expense in front of you. “sit down and i’ll show you what i’m talking about.”

the comforting pressure on your back lets up, and for a split second, you almost wish you hadn’t suggested to demonstrate. toji sits down, remote looking dwarfed in his closed palm, and smirks expectantly, like there’s something funny to say. “i was just thinking. what if all the aftercare turns me into a spoiled brat?”

you scoff as he turns on the tv, settling on your knees behind him. “we can’t both be spoiled brats, toji.”

KAMO CHOSO.

“did i hurt you?” is the first thing to come out out of choso’s mouth when you finally return to yourself, a few crystalline tears starting to dry on your cheeks. you hadn’t quite noticed them during the pandemonium, too wrapped up in the overwhelming sensations of sex to focus on something so unimportant. but now, there’s a warm stinging that you trace to your neck—where he’d been biting and sucking the most in the moments before orgasm.

“‘s okay, cho. i’m okay, just tired now,” you laugh breathlessly, watching the worry drain out of his face, “i’ve gotta get up and wipe off, or i’ll end up getting pregnant.”

choso’s eyes are shining. “our kids would be so pretty, all ‘cause of you.”

you sit up on your elbows, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. this is the same look you give him every time he mentions it, and not wanting to nag you too much, he remembers himself. “okay, i know. have to wait more than five years first, i got it,” with the mildest degree of resignation making its way through his huffed words, choso slips off of the bed and pads toward the bathroom.

shortly after, he returns with a damp washcloth and settles on his knees between your thighs. even in the low light, his movements are perpetually delicate and skillful, a direct result of his understanding of your body, built through touch. with the way he’s comfortably wiping cum off your inner thighs, it’s hard to believe that choso had once been so awkward he’d stalked off mid-sex to let out a few tears of embarrassment.

“it’s not too hot, is it?” he checks in, more worried than he should be. it isn’t difficult to imagine him as a father, gasping as your child toddles around recklessly, jumping off of the couch and into his awaiting arms. he’s the type to always come to the rescue, no matter what.

“no, it’s just right,” you murmur, feeling the sweep of the lukewarm washcloth at the top of your thigh. “no need to be so concerned, choso. i trust you, baby.”

pink blooms in the apples of his cheeks at your words, just as it always does whenever you pay him an innocent compliment. he takes comfort in your relaxed sigh, folding the washcloth into itself and setting it on the bedside table before sliding himself up to lay his head on your chest. “you need to stop indulging me so much,” he groans when your fingers slip into his hair, combing gently though the dark strands, “keep up the ‘put a baby in me’ and i might actually do it.”

choso feels his entire face burn once he repeats a line that’s supposed to be yours, a shudder rippling through his body when a memory from earlier flashes behind his eyes.

“i know, cho,” you hum, nails lightly raking against his scalp in your odyssey through his hair. it’s painfully intimate, and impossibly soothing for him—he could say just about anything to you, even confess something deep and dark without the usual constraints of your daily routine. this is just you and him, simple and naked.

then you giggle, “but i also know how crazy it makes you.”

it does make him more wild than it should, the idea of getting you pregnant and then the concept of raising the baby itself. choso pauses meaningfully before he answers you, letting his eyes close. “maybe something’s fundamentally wrong with me.”

a gooey hybrid of affection and sadness races through your veins upon hearing his words. it’s hard to say something—even anything at all—when you know just a little about his struggle being half-human, half-curse. choso is constantly feeling guilty about taking the easier path in life as a human, wondering if someone like him could possibly deserve something greater than himself to love and care for.

it’s quiet now, save for the steady hum of the fan and sweep of your fingers through his hair, loose and languid. “sorry,” choso exhales softly, tilting his face to the side, “i didn’t mean to become so negative.”

“there isn’t a thing wrong with you, choso. i know you’re wanting a family of your own, and i don’t disagree with that in the slightest. i see a future with you, but there’s no shame in taking it slow, is there? we aren’t even engaged yet, baby.”

“engaged?” he echoes quizzically, voice low.

“it’s when two people agree to get married in the future after a proposal with a ring,” it’s hard not to smile at the thought of the two people being you and him, even though choso’s baring his soul to you right now, raw and all himself. he hugs you tighter, arms straining as if he’s trying to prevent you from slipping away. “don’t worry, cho. we both still have a lot to learn.”

[kiyoomiee]

part one. part two. part three. part four.

boxer!sukuna who’s been in the training room for hours now. Sweat trickled all over his body as his arms never stopped swinging.

“Sukuna, you’ve been here for more than an hour now. That punching bag will break any moment.” Toji voiced out as he walked in.

“What’s wrong with you?” He tried to ask Sukuna.

“She’s mad at me. Been ignoring me for two days now.” Sukuna dropped his arms and sulked. Fucking hell, he misses you so much.

“Ah that pretty doll? Couldn’t imagine her staying mad that long with your annoying ass.”

“She’s my pretty doll. Don’t call her that.” Sukuna grumbled at Toji but the man ignored him.

“What’d you do?”

“Her medical director was being a misogynistic ass, so I punched him on her behalf.” Sukuna smirked, remembering how gratifying it was to punch the bastard in the face.

“Heh, would’ve done the same if I was there. But didn’t it occur to you that she might not want you to fight her battles for her?”

“Why wouldn’t she? I could send that man in a hospital without even breaking a sweat.”

“That’s exactly why asshole. Besides, you’ve seen how she handles herself in her own field. So go apologize instead of breaking our goddamn equipment.”

boxer!sukuna who corners you in your office so you can’t avoid him anymore. Locking the door close and closing the blinds so nobody could interfere. He went looking for you right after finishing his shower.

“We need to talk.”

“Not here Sukuna, I’m working. And I don’t want to talk to you right now.” You can see where this was going, tears already threatened to fall in the corners of your eyes.

“No. We need to talk right now, or else I’ll go crazy-“

“You’re going crazy? You haven’t talked to me in two days Sukuna. Now you’ll stroll in here and break up with me?”

“Break up?“ What the hell?

“Can’t handle the emotional part of the relationship? I should’ve known since you’re-“

“Since I’m what?” His voice was loud and angry. It was the first time he got mad at you.

“How could I even dare to break up with you when you’re constantly in my mind? When I’m trying my best just so you could notice me? When I’d surrender at your feet if you’d only say the word? I’ve pursued you for months and waited for you to see me. Even with countless rejections, I would’ve continued to wait for the rest of my life as long as there’s no ring on your finger yet. God, my infatuation even turned into obsession.” He sounds dejected as he chuckled to himself in pity.

“Now you’re saying I’m here to break up with you? No baby, I’m here to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness. Because I’ll lose my goddamn mind if I don’t have your attention on me even in a split second. Why can’t you see it? I’m so fucking in love with you that the thought of leaving wouldn’t even cross my mind.” He continued on and sighed in agony.

“Y-You’re what?” You were stunned. It was the first time he said that three lettered word.

“I love you so fucking much. So please, I’m sorry for what I’ve done. I shouldn’t have interfered because I know you could stand up for yourself. But I can’t say I regret punching that motherfucker in the face.”

“I know you won’t, ‘kuna.”

“Fuck, don’t cry baby. I’m sorry I was an asshole.” He got on his knees and wiped the tears that fell from your eyes. You leaned into the warmth of his touch.

“Yeah but thanks to your little stunt, that man was fired and I won’t have to deal with his misogynistic comments anymore.” You just finished talking to the higher ups and the HR a while ago, they assured you that they’ll handle the case and that your medical director will be terminated immediately.

“I’m sorry too Sukuna, for avoiding and ignoring you. I should’ve reached out to you sooner.”

“No, it was my fault. I should’ve reached out. It won’t happen again baby, I promise.”

“Ryo.” You called him and caressed his face.

“Hmm?”

“I love you too.” His brain stopped functioning when he heard you say that.

“A-Are you sure? I’m not pressuring you just because I said it earlier-“ Ears turning red, he was now flustered and asked just to make sure he heard it correctly.

“I love you Ryomen Sukuna, I’m very sure.” You expressed lovingly, together with a quick peck on his lips.

“You sure know how to make me crazy for you, sweetheart.”

[mikkeneko]

In various places -- here, the bird app, even YouTube comments -- I keep running into people with some variation of the same question:

"Does Scum Villain have a teacher/student romance?" And every time I want to answer with: No, But Also Yes, But Also Not Really, It's Complicated (And That's On Purpose.)

Which is an answer that's too long to fit in a tweet or a YT comment, but fortunately tumblr has no (effective) post limit! So here I go.

1 - No

In the very straight forward porn cliche sense of "oh but professor, I really ~need~ to pass this class or my life will be ruined, can't I do ~anything~ to get you to change my grade?" *bats lashes* and "Hoho, my pretty young teen student, I've got your good grade right here in my pants, if you ~apply~ yourself..." then no.

No sex or romance between a teacher and their student in the bounds of a teacher-student relationship happens in this book. No deliberate grooming of an underage student on the part of a teacher occurs in this book. No sex or a romance between an adult character and an underage character occurs in this book, nor is the adult 'waiting' for the minor to reach adulthood to initiate one.

2 - But Also Yes

No sex or romance between a teacher and their student in the bounds of that relationship happens in this book. Two people who were formerly in a teacher and student relationship do enter into a sexual and romantic relationship by the end of the book. Also the nature of the society they're in further means that even though they are no longer in the schooling environment, it is socially assumed that the deference owed by a student to their teacher lasts forever, even after the student leaves that environment, and they continue to regard themselves and refer to themselves in those roles even though the teacher no longer strictly speaking has authority over the student.

Also, the student was really hot for his teacher even when he was still a student. (The teacher was oblivious to this fact.)

3 - But Also Not Really

By the time sex and romance is even on the horizon for these characters, their relationship has so drastically changed from that of a "teacher and student" that it is barely recognizeable as such. The power/authority dynamic between a teacher and their student is subsumed pretty much entirely by the facts that:

A. The 'student' has become a medeival fantasy warlord of such unsurpassable magic and might that literally no other person in this world can stand up against him, 'teacher' included, and the 'teacher' is well aware of that.

B. Also, the 'student' is metaphysically endowed (heh) with the Protagonist Halo, a literally active force within the setting they're part of, which means that not only can he not be defeated, he ontologically cannot be denied anything that he desires; what he wants, he gets, and what he doesn't want, cannot be forced on him.

C. ...But also, the teacher in this setting is a metaphysical outsider to the world order the student is part of, which means that he is aware of all of the above, and can and does manipulate it to suit his own agenda, which may or may not align with giving the student what he wants at any point in time. Assuming that the teacher has the correct understanding of what the student wants. (He doesn't.)

D. ........But also also, for all his power, one harsh word from him can destroy him. For all his knowledge, one tear can devastate him. (Which one? Both.)

4 - It's Complicated (On Purpose)

*throws the chalk against the wall*

Between a teacher and their student, who has the power? Between an emperor and a scholar, who has the power? Between a hero and the villain he is predestined to destroy, who has the power? Between a character and the reader who's read ahead to the end of the story, who has the power? Do we find some of these power imbalances more acceptable than others? And if so, why do we?

Trying to track Who Has The Power or Who Has An Unfair Advantage socially, physically, and metaphysically between this particular pair of characters is damn near impossible and that's on purpose.

The Scum Villain's Self Saving System is a lot of things, but one thing that absolutely defines it is that it is a parody. It's a parody and a deconstruction of a lot of things -- the 'stallion' genre, the 'isekai' genre, the 'pay-per-chapter webnovel' genre, the 'gay drama' genre and, most relevant to this conversation, it is a deconstruction of teacher-student romance.

What kind of a teacher-student romance has a clueless, fish-out-of water NEET in the role of the Wise Old Mentor? What kind of a teacher-student romance has a black-hearted, demonic, domineering feudal warlord in the role of the Blushing Virginal Student? What kind of a teacher-student romance has the two principals so close in age -- by the end of the book, they may be as little as a year apart -- that they're more like peers than teacher and student? What kind of audience are we, going into a story like this one and finding ourselves cheering for the teacher to fall in love and lust with his student, only to be disappointed when that doesn't happen because the teacher fails for three books straight to recognize love and lust when it's literally looking him in the face and crying?

Asking "does Scum Villain have a teacher-student romance?" is sort of like asking "does Galaxy Quest have a lot of high science fiction concepts?" No, but also yes, but also not really. It's complicated, and that's on purpose.