#if someone has specific things they'd like me to post tell me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mdzsartreblogs · 2 years

Text

Recognizing AI Generated Images, Danmei Edition

Heyo, @unforth here! I run some danmei art blogs (@mdzsartreblogs, @tgcfartreblogs, @svsssartreblogs, @zhenhunartreblogs, @erhaartreblogs, @dmbjartreblogs, @tykartreblogs, and @cnovelartreblogs) which means I see a LOT of danmei art, and I go through the main fandom tags more-or-less every day.

Today, for the first time, I spotted someone posting AI-generated images (I refuse to call them AI "art" - and to be clear, that's correct of me, because at least in the US it literally LEGALLY isn't art) without any label indicating they were AI generated. I am not necessarily against the existence of AI-generated images (though really...considering all the legal issues and the risks of misuse, I'm basically against them); I think they potentially have uses in certain contexts (such as for making references) and I also think that regardless of our opinions, we're stuck with them, but they're also clearly not art and I don't reblog them to the art side blogs.

The images I spotted today had multiple "tells," but they were still accumulating notes, and I thought it might be a good moment to step back and point out some of the more obvious tells because my sense is that a LOT of people are against AI-generated images being treated as art, and that these people wouldn't want to support an AI-generator user who tried to foist off their work as actual artwork, but that people don't actually necessarily know how to IDENTIFY those works and therefore can inadvertently reblog works that they'd never support if they were correctly identified. (Similar to how the person who reposts and says "credit to the artist" is an asshole but they're not the same as someone who reposts without any credit at all and goes out of their way to make it look like they ARE the artist when they're not).

Toward that end, I've downloaded all the images I spotted on this person's account and I'm going to use them to highlight the things that led me to think they were AI art - they posted a total of 5 images to a few major danmei tags the last couple days, and several other images not to specific fandoms (I examined 8 images total). The first couple I was suspicious, but it wasn't til this morning that I spotted one so obvious that it couldn't be anything BUT AI art. I am NOT going to name the person who did this. The purpose of this post is purely educational. I have no interest whatsoever in bullying one rando. Please don't try to identify them; who they are is genuinely irrelevant, what matters is learning how to recognize AI art in general and not spreading it around, just like the goal of education about reposting is to help make sure that people who repost don't get notes on their theft, to help people recognize the signs so that the incentive to be dishonest about this stuff is removed.

But first: Why is treating AI-generated images as art bad?

I'm no expert and this won't be exhaustive, but I do think it's important to first discuss why this matters.

On the surface, it's PERHAPS harmless for someone to post AI-generated images provided that the image is clearly labeled as AI-generated. I say "perhaps" because in the end, as far as I'm aware, there isn't a single AI-generation engine that's built on legally-sourced artwork. Every AI (again, to the best of my knowledge) has been trained using copyrighted images usually without the permission of the artists. Indeed, this is the source of multiple current lawsuits. (and another)

But putting that aside (as if it can be put aside that AI image generators are literally unethically built), it's still problematic to support the images being treated as art. Artists spend thousands of hours learning their craft, honing it, sharing their creations, building their audiences. This is what they sell when they offer commissions, prints, etc. This can never be replicated by a computer, and to treat an AI-generated image as in any way equivalent is honestly rude, inappropriate, disgusting imo. This isn't "harmless"; supporting AI image creation engines is damaging to real people and their actual livelihoods. Like, the images might be beautiful, but they're not art. I'm honestly dreading someone managing to convince fandom that their AI-generated works are actual art, and then cashing in on commissions, prints, etc., because people can't be fussed to learn the difference. We really can't let this happen, guys. Fanartists are one of the most vibrant, important, prominent groups in all our fandoms, and we have to support them and do our part to protect them.

As if those two points aren't enough, there's already growing evidence that AI-generated works are being used to further propagandists. There are false images circulating of violence at protests, deep-fakes of various kinds that are helping the worst elements of society to push their horrid agendas. As long as that's a facet of AI-generated works, they'll always be dangerous.

I could go on, but really this isn't the main point of my post and I don't want to get bogged down. Other people have said more eloquently than I why AI-generated images are bad. Read those. (I tried to find a good one to link but sadly failed; if anyone knows a good post, feel free to send it and I'll add the link to the post).

Basically: I think a legally trained AI-image generator that had built-in clear watermarks could be a fun toy for people who want reference images or just to play with making pseudo-art. But...that's not what we have, and what we do have is built on theft and supports dystopia so, uh. Yeah fuck AI-generated images.

How to recognize AI-Generated Images Made in an Eastern Danmei Art Style

NOTE: I LEARNED ALL THE BASIC ON SPOTTING AI-GENERATED IMAGES FROM THIS POST. I'll own I still kinda had the wool over my eyes until I read that post - I knew AI stuff was out there but I hadn't really looked closely enough to have my eyes open for specific signs. Reading that entire post taught me a lot, and what I learned is the foundation of this post.

This post shouldn't be treated as a universal guide. I'm specifically looking at the tells on the kind of art that people in danmei fandoms often see coming from Weibo and other Chinese, Japanese, and Korean platforms, works made by real artists. For example, the work of Foxking (狐狸大王a), kokirapsd, and Changyang (who is an official artist for MDZS, TGCF, and other danmei works). This work shares a smooth use of color, an aim toward a certain flavor of realism, an ethereal quality to the lighting, and many other features. (Disclaimer: I am not an artist. Putting things in arty terms is really not my forte. Sorry.)

So, that's what these AI-generated images are emulating. And on the surface, they look good! Like...

...that's uncontestably a pretty picture (the white box is covering the "artist's" watermark.) And on a glance, it doesn't necessarily scream "AI generated"! But the devil is in the details, and the details are what this post is about. And that picture? Is definitely AI generated.

This post is based on 8 works I grabbed from a single person's account, all posted as their own work and watermarked as such. Some of the things that are giveaways only really show when looking at multiple pieces. I'm gonna start with those, and then I'll highlight some of the specifics I spotted that caused me to go from "suspicious" to "oh yeah no these are definitely not art."

Sign 1: all the images are the exact same size. I mean, to the pixel: 512 x 682 pixels (or 682 x 512, depending on landscape or portrait orientation). This makes zero sense. Why would an artist trim all their pieces to that size? It's not the ideal Tumblr display size (that's 500 x 750 pixels). If you check any actual artist's page and look at the full-size of several of their images, they'll all be different sizes as they trimmed, refined, and otherwise targeted around their original canvas size to get the results they wanted.

Sign 2: pixelated. At the shrunken size displayed on, say, a mobile Tumblr feed, the image looks fine, but even just opening the full size upload, the whole thing is pixelated. Now, this is probably the least useful sign; a lot of artists reduce the resolution/dpi/etc. on their uploaded works so that people don't steal them. But, taken in conjunction with everything else, it's definitely a sign.

Those are the two most obvious overall things - the things I didn't notice until I looked at all the uploads. The specifics are really what tells, though. Which leads to...

Sign 3: the overall work appears to have a very high degree of polish, as if it were made by an artist who really really knows what they're doing, but on inspection - sometimes even on really, REALLY cursory inspect - the details make zero sense and reflect the kinds of mistakes that a real artist would never make.

So, here's the image that I saw that "gave it away" to me, and caused me to re-examine the images that had first struck me as off but that I hadn't been able to immediately put my finger on the problem. I've circled some of the spots that are flagrant.

Do you see yet? Yes? Awesome, you're getting it. No? Okay, let's go point by point, with close ups.

Sign 4: HANDS. Hands are currently AI's biggest weakness, though they've been getting better quickly and honestly that's terrifying. But whatever AI generated this picture clearly doesn't get hands yet, because that hand is truly an eldritch horror. Look at this thing:

It has two palms. It has seven fingers. It's basically two hands overlaid over each other, except one of those hands only has four fingers and the other has three. Seeing this hand was how I went from "umm...maybe they're fake? Maybe they're not???" to "oh god why is ANYONE reblogging this when it's this obvious?" WATCH THE HANDS. (Go back up to that first one posted and look at the hand, you'll see. Or just look right below at this crop.) Here's some other hands:

Sign 5: Hair and shadows. Once I started inspecting these images, the shadows of the hair on the face was one of the things that was most consistently fucked up across all the uploaded pictures. Take a look:

There's shadows of tendrils on the forehead, but there's no corresponding hair that could possibly have made those shadows. Likewise there's a whole bunch of shadows on the cheeks. Where are those coming from? There's no possible source in the rest of the image. Here's some other hair with unrelated wonky shadows:

Sign 6: Decorative motifs that are really just meaningless squiggles. Like, artists, especially those who make fanart, put actual thought into what the small motifs are on their works. Like, in TGCF, an artist will often use a butterfly motif or a flower petal motif to reflect things about the characters. An AI, though, can only approximate a pattern and it can't imbue those with meanings. So you end up with this:

What is that? It's nothing, that's what. It's a bunch of squiggles. Here's some other meaningless squiggle motifs (and a more zoomed-in version of the one just above):

Sign 7: closely related to meaningless squiggle motifs is motifs that DO look like something, but aren't followed through in any way that makes sense. For example, an outer garment where the motifs on the left and the right shoulder/chest are completely different, or a piece of cloth that's supposed to be all one piece but that that has different patterns on different sections of it. Both of these happen in the example piece, see?

The first images on the top left is the left and right shoulder side by side. The right side has a scalloped edge; the left doesn't. Likewise, in the right top picture, you can see the two under-robe lapels; one has a gold decoration and the other doesn't. And then the third/bottom image shows three sections of the veil. One (on the left) has that kind of blue arcy decoration, which doesn't follow the folds of the cloth very well and looks weird and appears at one point to be OVER the hair instead of behind it. The second, on top of the bottom images, shows a similar motif, except now it's gold, and it looks more like a hair decoration than like part of the veil. The third is also part of the same veil but it has no decorations at all. Nothing about this makes any sense whatsoever. Why would any artist intentionally do it that way? Or, more specifically, why would any artist who has this apparent level of technical skill ever make a mistake like this?

They wouldn't.

Some more nonsensical patterns, bad mirrors, etc. (I often put left/right shoulders side by side so that it'd be clearer, sorry if it's weird):

Sign 8: bizarre architecture, weird furniture, etc. Most of the images I'm examining for this post have only partial backgrounds, so it's hard to really focus on this, but it's something that the post I linked (this one) talks about a lot. So, like, an artist will put actual thought into how their construction works, but an AI won't because an AI can't. There's no background in my main example image, but take a look at this from another of my images:

On a glance it's beautiful. On a few seconds actually staring it's just fucking bizarre. The part of the ceiling on the right appears to be domed maybe? But then there's a hard angle, then another. The windows on the right have lots of panes, but then the one on the middle-left is just a single panel, and the ones on the far left have a complete different pane model. Meanwhile, also on the left side at the middle, there's that dark gray...something...with an arch that mimics the background arches except it goes no where, connects to nothing, and has no apparent relationship to anything else going on architecturally. And, while the ceiling curves, the back wall is straight AND shows more arches in the background even though the ceiling looks to end. And yes, some of this is possible architecture, but taken as a whole, it's just gibberish. Why would anyone who paints THAT WELL paint a building to look like THAT? They wouldn't. It's nonsense. It's the art equivalent of word salad. When we look at a sentence and it's like "dog makes a rhythmical salad to betray on the frame time plot" it almost resembles something that might mean something but it's clearly nonsense. This background is that sentence, as art.

Sign 9: all kinds of little things that make zero sense. In the example image, I circled where a section of the hair goes BELOW the inner robe. That's not impossible but it just makes zero sense. As with many of these, it's the kind of thing that taken alone, I'd probably just think "well, that was A Choice," but combined with all the other weird things it stands out as another sign that something here is really, really off. Here's a collection of similar "wtf?" moments I spotted across the images I looked at (I'm worried I'm gonna hit the Tumblr image cap, hence throwing these all in one, lol.)

You have to remember that an actual artist will do things for a reason. And we, as viewers, are so used to viewing art with that in mind that we often fill in reasons even when there aren't. Like, in the image just about this, I said, "what the heck are these flowers growing on?" And honestly, I COULD come up with explanations. But that doesn't mean it actually makes sense, and there's no REASON for it whatsoever. The theoretical same flowers are, in a different shot, growing unsupported! So...what gives??? The answer is nothing gives. Because these pieces are nothing. The AI has no reason, it's just tossing in random aesthetic pieces together in a mishmash, and the person who generated them is just re-generating and refining until they get something that looks "close enough" to what they wanted. It never was supposed to make sense, so of course it doesn't.

In conclusion...

After years of effort, artists have gotten across to most of fandom that reposts are bad, and helped us learn strategies for helping us recognize reposts, and given us an idea of what to do when we find one.

Fandom is just at the beginning of this process as it applies to AI-generated images. There's a LOT of education that has to be done - about why AI-generated images are bad (the unethical training using copyrighted images without permission is, imo, critical to understanding this), and about how to spot them, and then finally about what to do when you DO find them.

With reposts, we know "tell original artist, DCMA takedowns, etc." That's not the same with these AI-images. There's no original owner. There's no owner at all - in the US, at least, they literally cannot be copyrighted. Which is why I'm not even worrying about "credit" on this post - there's nothing stolen, cause there's nothing made. So what should you do?

Nothing. The answer is, just as the creator has essentially done nothing, you should also do nothing. Don't engage. Don't reblog. Don't commission the creator or buy their art prints. If they do it persistently and it bothers you, block them. If you see one you really like, and decide to reblog it, fine, go for it, but mark it clearly - put in the ACTUAL COMMENTS (not just in the tags!) that it's AI art, and that you thought it was pretty anyway. But honestly, it'd be better to not engage, especially since as this grows it's inevitable that some actual artists are going to start getting accused of posting AI-generated images by over-zealous people. Everyone who gets a shadow wrong isn't posting AI-generated images. A lot of these details are insanely difficult to get correct, and lots of even very skilled, accomplished artists, if you go over their work with a magnifying glass you're going to find at least some of these things, some weirdnesses that make no sense, some shadows that are off, some fingers that are just ugh (really, getting hands wrong is so relatable. hands are the fucking worst). It's not about "this is bad art/not art because the hand is wrong," it's specifically about the ways that it's wrong, the way a computer randomly throws pieces together versus how actual people make actual mistakes. It's all of the little signs taken as a whole to say "no one who could produce a piece that, on the surface, looks this nice, could possibly make THIS MANY small 'mistakes.'"

The absolute best thing you can do if you see AI-generated images being treated as real art is just nothing. Support actual artists you love, and don't spread the fakes.

Thanks for your time, everyone. Good luck avoiding AI-generated pieces in the future, please signal boost this, and feel free to get in touch if you think I can help you with anything related to this.

#resources

3K notes · View notes

writingforstraykids · 5 months

Note

Jeongin soft thoughts? 🙏🏻

Collab with @zehina

Thank you so much for the many sweet thoughts you shared with me and let me use/adapt for this. Without you this post would've been rather short compared to the others🖤🖤

Jeongin loves to tease his hyungs with disgusted faces and slipping out of their hugs. But with you, whenever you're alone, that changes drastically. Innie turns putty in your hands, letting you trace your fingers all over his face, knowing you'll stop at his dimples for a while. They're cute, just like him, so who can blame you for that? A dopey smile grows on his lips whenever you play with his hair and massage his scalp, helping him relax after a long day.

Innie has a very specific pet name for you, which he hasn't said out loud for a long while. It's like his little secret, adoring you from afar, his heart growing at the fact that you're his. One day, he slips, muttering it against your hair when he's already sleepy. You pull back, gaping at him, and his eyes widen in pure shock when he realizes why. You don't dare to tease him about it, though, knowing he'd die from embarrassment.

If the boys wouldn't know better, they'd suspect you are just a pair of bickering siblings. The loving teasing, playful cursing, and playful fights definitely make it seem like you are. But the way you two get cuddly and share soft kisses proves everyone wrong.

Innie is used to being babied by his hyungs all the time, and if he's honest, he doesn't mind it one bit. Once he met you, he found someone he could baby for once. And oh, how he loves doing it. He takes upon Chan's tradition of "maknae first" and always makes sure you get the first bite, the first sip, the best view, the cuddliest blanket, or the most loving hug. In his eyes, you deserve nothing but the best.

Innie gets drunk faster than you do so it's your job to take care of him when he is. He trusts you with this, knowing you'll get him back home or safely to bed when he had a little too much. He gets so clingy when he's drunk it's adorable. You can't even remember the amount of times he has been hugging you and planting drunk kisses on your face, missing your lips with an adorable giggle. You've lost count of the times he's drunkenly declared his love for you in front of everyone, his words slurred but sincere, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if he never wants to let go. It's endearing, and even though he's a lightweight, you wouldn't change a thing about these heartfelt moments.

Innie, the baby bread who has a knack for acting like a grandpa amongst the bunch and you cannot say I am wrong. While he is a menace, yes, he isn’t one like Seungmin. No, this boy wouldn’t tease you for acting cute or taking care of him, instead, he would try his best to not be affectionate with you in public. A hard battle, one he often fails. But who could blame him, when you look that adorable, with such a sweet expression on your face? Certainly not him. So whenever you brush your fingers against his as you two walk, don’t talk about how fast he laces your fingers together, or how he silently takes off his coat if you seem cold. Let him be the little tsundere he is, otherwise he’ll pout, and you don’t want that at all.

Innie isn’t a big fan of skinship, click on any stray kids video if you need proof. But you’re an exception to that, to a certain degree. If you ask nicely enough, he’ll wrap you in his arms and have an all night long cuddle session. Other times, he wraps his arm around you protectively, not even a hiccup in the story he had been telling you, as if it was natural to him. Naturally, since you seem to be getting the VIP baby bread services that the boys aren’t getting, they all act incredibly jealous around you, all in a playful way. They tease both of you about this, which only results in their maknae getting flustered and chasing them around with heated cheeks and loud shouts. You don’t mind this at all honestly, their loud laughter and an embarrassed, cuddly boyfriend being your reward.

He would pay for your things, as expensive or cheap as they may be, he wouldn’t care at all. No, he would confidently raise his card towards the cashier, leaving you gaping up at him, admittedly a bit frustrated that you couldn’t pay for your bubble tea once again. And if you dared voice this, he would simply smirk at you, destroying your defences with that foxy smile of his. Damn him and his charisma.

When Jeongin plans a date, he makes sure every detail is perfect, from the timing to the location. His meticulous nature shows through in these moments, especially when he tries to incorporate activities he knows you'll love. He might feign indifference about the choices, saying things like "whatever you prefer," but you can tell he’s invested by how eagerly he observes your reactions. If you mention a fleeting interest in art, the next date might involve a quiet afternoon at a gallery, followed by coffee at a small café that he had scouted out weeks in advance. These thoughtful gestures don't go unnoticed, and they only deepen your appreciation for his caring and attentive ways.

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @kailee08 @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143

303 notes · View notes

snailsrneat · 6 months

Text

Yandere Vil Schoenheit Headcanons

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

TW: Kidnapping, Stalking, Posioning

-----------------------------

I think if anyone got literally any of the overblot boys as their yandere they'd be pretty fucked.

Mostly because the overblot boys hold a lot of power and have tons of magic.

Vil, specifically, however is one of the few who won't ever use his magic on you.

No instead he'll just use potions on you (:

When you two first met, it wasn't exactly love first sight, more like first word.

Cause when he saw you, he wasn't impressed.

'This is the prefect everyone's been so obsessed over? Really?'

He honestly thought that you'd be more impressive, more magnificent and elegant if you will.

His first impression of you however immediately changed when you had begun barking orders at fellow freshman in an attempt to defeat him.

Never once has he seen a freshman, one as weak you, calling the shots amongst the student body.

Something must be different with you. And he had to figure out what.

From then onward he recruits Rook to spy on you and learn what your day-to-day patterns are like.

In the process Rook also listens in and learns all your secrets. All of which he reports to Vil.

The Vil learns about you the more he falls in love with you.

He obsesses over every single detail of you, from little moles in unseen places to the formation of stress wrinkles crowding over your forehead.

Every minute detail that he can find, he wants pepper with kisses and tell you just how weak in the knees you make him.

A part if him feels silly for getting weak for someone as mediocre as you, but the other half of him wants to steal you away and lock you in his bedroom so you never have to be troubled by those horrible boys you call "Friends".

In fact...that's a fantastic idea! Why hasn't he thought of this before? That way he can watch you up close.

No longer will he need Rook to do all his stalking, not when you're already here and so close.

When he kidnaps you he does it under the guise of you try a new tea blend he was given. But, unfortunately for you, the tea just so happens to be spiked.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry dear, I didn't think one of my own fans would try to spike my tea! Here let me help you get to the infirmary~"

He's an actor so he's very good at being melodramatic.

Instead of waking up in the infirmary, you wake up his bedroom, with your arms chained to the bed posts and dressed in expensive satin pajamas.

When Vil comes into the room and notices your struggling, he chides you for bruising you beautiful skin.

He doesn't release you from the chains, but he does his best to keep you comfortable.

"Only the best for you, darling. You shouldn't worry yourself with such needless things. What you should be thinking of is me, and only me. Understand?"

If you ever try to escape, don't.

I'm warning you, if Vil catches you trying to escape it'll be worse than just staying chained to his bed all day.

It's even more terrible if you've been getting "closer" with him recently, because now he knows that he shouldn't trust you fully. Ever.

If he catches you, he'll no longer allow you to be comfortable.

Instead of that nice comfortable bed, you sleep in a dog cage in the corner of his room.

And the days have started to blur together now, he started poisoning your food to make sure you don't do anything.

Most days your too tired to anything, let alone fight back or come up with escape plans.

If he has to start treating you like a baby he doesn't mind, he likes making you depend entirely on him.

"You know you did this to yourself, right? Trying to escape was a foolish endeavor and you must face the consequences of your actions..aw, you're crying darling. Don't cry, it'll give you wrinkles. Don't worry my love, this hurts me more than it hurts you. Now drink this."

-----------------------------

232 notes · View notes

babyangelsky · 2 months

Text

Back in March when I was doing the BL Challenge (brought to us by the lovely @negrowhat), I mentioned in my post about Korn Theerapanyakul that it isn't often that we get an actual villain who isn't just a love rival in a BL. The presence of an antagonist in a story doesn't necessarily make them the villain and not every story calls for one either. That being said,

Jak is a villain.

I want to break down this shot because it tells us a lot about the dynamic at play and Jak's point of view.

There's a lot going on here. The first thing my eye is drawn to is the line between them (and how Mut is just slightly crossing it since he stepped into the lion's den). Once you see that, the differences between both sides of that line become more obvious.

Mahasamut is dressed in a dark cool color and he's in shadow but his face is catching the light. The flowers, fireplace, candles, and TV behind him feel warm and homey. Fitting for a cafe. On the other hand, Jak is dressed in a warm light color and he's sitting in the light but his face is in shadow. The windows behind him and his positioning makes it feel like he's sitting at a desk in a corner office in a high rise instead of a cafe.

I weirdly wish they'd shown us when they arrived at the table because I would bet you anything that Jak sat down first. He's the older one, he's relaxed, etc. It makes sense for him to have sat first which means he chose that specific seat and the only reason I mention it, and really the only reason it matters, is that it tells us how Jak sees himself in this situation.

He's sitting there in the light in his dad sweater telling Mahasamut about wanting to fulfill his role as Tongrak's father and that he's so sorry about his behavior in the past and wants to atone for it and it's all bullshit because look at this man's face.

It is completely shadowed, just like his intentions and his agenda whereas Mut's is completely in the light.

And the difference becomes even more stark once Jak tells Mut to break up with Tongrak.

Jak is spewing nothing but ill-intentioned bullshit and Mahasamut sees it for what it is and makes it clear that he isn't going to fall for it, which is why things devolve.

Now. Just so we can get it out of the way, yes, obviously Mut should not have agreed to that meeting. He shouldn't have engaged and should've put the baby in the car and driven in the opposite direction. I was screaming at my screen for him to do just that, as were many of us I'm sure. However, I have to point out that it is not inconsistent for him from a character writing standpoint to have agreed.

Lest we forget, he said this to Tongrak last week when he was explaining why he turned Prin down when she tried to buy him.

"But Leah the dad is so much worse how could he not see—!" I know. Trust me, I do.

I'm gonna put on my baseball uniform and go to bat for my man for a second though because I think part of the reason that he agreed to talk to Jak is that he vastly underestimated him. And to be completely fair to Mahasamut, I did, too.

If I had to guess, I would say that he was expecting to be dealing with someone cut from the same cloth as Prin. Maybe a little worse since he knows what Jak has done in the past but certainly nothing he couldn't handle. Mahasamut is not a reckless or a thoughtless man. I don't believe for a second he would've even walked in the building if he didn't feel confident that he could deal with Jak.

The problem is that Jak is very much not cut from the same cloth as Prin.

I noted in my expressions post that it looked like the only time Jak was actually feeling something was when he accepted Prin's offer to destroy Tongrak but that's not entirely accurate. Having gone back to watch his scenes, there's a second instance where genuine emotion peeks through.

There's such a cold rage in his expression when he reproaches Tongrak for choosing his mother and cutting ties with him. And make no mistake, he's not angry because he loves his son. We already know that he doesn't. He's angry because in his eyes, he lost to a woman he felt nothing but disdain for.

If Tongrak and Kwan had chosen Jak over their mother, do you think Jak would be out here causing problems? No, he would've flat out ignored them. He wouldn't bother keeping such close tabs on Rak and his relationships because he would've already won and if he's doing it now, it's because he wants to win.

This is a game to him. This is fun for him.

His son is terrified and begging him not to hurt an innocent little girl and a young man and Jak's response is, "Don't be greedy."

He tries to force his son to choose which one of the people he loves most in this world gets to be safe but the choice isn't really a choice. He says he'll choose for Rak and he already has. Jak had already had Mahasamut beaten by the time he comes to see Tongrak and we know that because Mut's injuries have been treated when Rak gets home and Vivi is already there.

Matter of fact, the only reason Jak is even here talking to his son is because his attempt to convince Mut to leave has failed and he knows that going to Rak won't fail. He knows his son is afraid of him and he knows he can use that fear to get what he wants, which is why he brings up the uncle doctor.

Although we've gotten little of Jak so far, it's safe to assume that he is not a man who makes empty threats. Tongrak knows this, too, which is why he becomes so panicked when the doctor is brought up. We as the audience don't know who this doctor is but we can surmise from Tongrak's expression that he's important enough to be used as a weapon by Jak.

Until this point I don't think Tongrak realized that his father had anything to do with whatever happened to this doctor, he looks genuinely surprised. But all Jak had to do to prove how serious he is about his threat is mention the man. That's all he does. Rak puts the pieces together himself.

And here is where I bring up next week.

If you can look at this man's face as he rips the contract and think for a moment that he's going to try to push Mahasamut away for some flimsy petty reason, I am here to tell you that you are dead wrong. If I so much as SEE the words 'noble idiocy' I'm going to kick off.

Because we know that by the time Tongrak picks up this contract to rip it, Mahasamut has already been beaten twice and that Jak made a barely veiled threat to have him killed. Rak is rightfully terrified of his father and afraid for his boyfriend's life and wanting to keep Mut safe and ALIVE is not noble idiocy.

Now is it going to work? Smart money says no, wild horses couldn't drag Mahasamut away. He loves Rak too much to take any threats lying down. But as much as I understand why Mut talked to Jak, I understand why Rak wants to keep him safe even more.

Jak didn't accept Prin's offer because he wanted to help her. He doesn't give a single shit about her agenda except to mock her for it. He agreed to destroy his son because he wants to, because doing so will allow him to win and get back at his ex-wife. The money is just a bonus.

Jak is a Villain.

#rewatching jak's scenes does not get any less brutal fyi #there are only two reasons why something is hard to watch:#because it's done poorly or because it's done well #and this was done very well #love sea #love sea the series #meta #conversations with leah

124 notes · View notes

demodraws0606 · 12 days

Text

Hu and Nico culprit+accomplice Theory (Also Eden was tricked into helping)

Okay, I know I've been extremely inconcistent with who I think the culprit is, however I think I've locked in who it is mainly through looking at Youtube comments and piecing out what works the most. Again I feel like it's a good thing to consider all of your options here.

I think Hu is the culprit and Nico is the accomplice.

The main point for this would be, that we know 100 pourcent now that attempted murder of Ace and the murder of Arei are connected without a doubt.

This means the person HAD to know exactly how Ace was killed, and considering how the crime scene was set out when Teruko and Eden enterred the room. I'd argue hte only person that could be responsible is the person that is behind the murder of Ace.

Because I mean if it was Eden why even try to do a murder similar to how Ace was killed and how would she exactly know how the murder worked.

(I'll explain why Eden took the tape later)

However it can't just be Nico because otherwise the trial would just be over, so that means that we have to find out who else could've been responsible for Ace's almost death.

I've already made a theory about how the murder of Ace wasn't actually done by Nico, mostly because how we see Nico with Ace's body VS how the crime had to have been done just doesn't match.

But I was honestly kinda lost on the motivation especially because Nico admitted to it so it would mean that, either, they gave up on trying to make themselves innocent OR they are covering up for someone else.

And with everything that's happened, I think it's the ladder.

Now, who else could've been responsible for Ace's murder ? Well, I don't think this is much of a headscratcher but it has to be Hu.

Why ? Well, because of the murder weapon

Unless you could argue that anyone could've gotten hold of Hu's weapon, which I personally pretty much doubt, unless it's Nico but we've gotten right back to the start. I don't think Hu would be stupid enough to just leave her weapon hanging there, joke very much intended.

So this mean, likely, that Hu ended up trying to kill Ace with Nico perhaps even being aware of Hu's intentions, although it's possible they had second thoughts (as we see Nico removing the string from Ace's neck).

Now, I don't know how to really structure this theory so I'll just write a couple bullet points and explain how Nico and Hu killing Arei happened before I get into the forsaken "Eden taking the tape and clothes" thing.

How would both of them get the water ? :

Hu has an alibi for taking the water as she was with Eden the entire time, however Nico had complete access over the water as they were hanging out in the relaxation room a lot. Meaning they'd have the most access to the water.

What about Nico and Hu's alibi ? :

I'd argue their alibis make both of them more suspicious, the first batch of people who have alibis were pointed out by J which are David, Veronika and J herself. There was no mention of Hu and Nico there.

However Hu then comes out a while later as soon as Ace accuses Nico, that actually both her and them have alibis. Which if they're the culprit and accomplice it would be really easy for them to vouch for each other's alibi, especially considering it doesn't seem like J noticed Hu and Nico waking up early which is very suspicious.

Why the hanging ? :

I think it's an important point because why would the murderer be so hung up, pun very much intended again, on such a specific murder tactic.

Now this might sound dark but depending on how Hu tried to kill herself it's very possible she has a lot of knowledge about it. In fact Whit's long and suspicious rant about how hangings work makes me think the murderer knows a lot about hanging as well.

The Turpentine ? (I FORGOT TO FINISH THIS PART WHEN I POSTED THE THEORY HOW DID NO ONE TELL ME) :

I've talked about in my "Nico didn't actually try to kill Ace" theory that the murder of Arei would need her to be incipacitated, especially since it would be impossible to really get Arei into any sort of mechanism with her concious. This means the culprit for both murders used Rose's Turpentine, as we know it was used in Ace's attempted murder. This again hints heavily that the culprits are the same.

Let's now get to the elephant in the room

The ball of clothes and the tape... clearly this has to mean Eden has to have done it right ??

Unless she took it for other reasons.

Hu asked her for it

I mean, Hu was the one to tell Eden about the clothes and we know for a fact that Hu was with Eden the entire nighttime, the day before hte murder was committed. They were also conversing a lot.

It would make a lot of sense for Hu to ask Eden to give her the clothes and the tape. I mean the murderer clearly wanted to frame Eden, so how likely would it be that they would set things up in a way that would make Eden look extremely bad.

We know Eden and Hu have a close relationship, Eden admitted they talk often about how to stop the killing game which makes Hu manipulating Eden make a lot of sense personally.

I also want to talk about the thing that now makes Eden innocent now that we know about the murder method pretty much entirely.

The rules of the BDA announcement

Now you might say, and I've used this argument before, the murder could have just looked away and it wouldn't count right ?

But I mean....why ? At this point there doesn't seem to be any grounds that the murder was done to avoid this rule and it's such a situational rule especially since Teruko decided to pick two people out of the blue that it's just... why would the murder think about that ? Especially with how we're seeing the murder being committed, there would be no moment where the murderer really had any reason to look away.

It's just bad luck from Hu's part that Teruko picked Eden to test out this rule.

For the conclusion, why the fuck would Hu and Nico do this ?

While, I don't fully know, I think I'm starting to realize the secrets might not actually be part of the motive. Which I think the running gag is gonna be that every murder is not gonna involve the motive or it involves it in a way different from the motive (Charles fake motive thing).

Hu's whole thing seems to be about wanting to live, she was depressed in the past and wanted to end her life however now she's got a new taste for life. This would be a huge motivation to want to get out of this killing game, especially with how intense the cast has been towards each other it would make sense to want to get out Now.

And also if she's the culprit, this line would make a lot of sense.

For Nico, it's a lot more complicated as to why they'd be an accomplice. Again however I'd argue their secret line would make sense with this theory.

It's possible Hu ended up somehow convincing Nico to do it, I don't think that they were threatened but it was possible they just really weren't in a good mindset especially with how things happened with them in chapter 2.

Anyways, yeah this is my final theory that I'm locking in right now

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #hu jing #nico hakobyan #hu drdt #nico drdt #drdt theory #danganronpa despair time chapter 2 #drdt chapter 2 #drdt eden #eden tobisa

65 notes · View notes

vampirevatican · 7 months

Text

Looking at saved photos of him...

pairing: om! brothers x reader

summary: the bros find you reacting to something on your phone. a huge smile, blushing, covering your mouth, or muttering things to yourself. they would've never guessed you were looking at them

note: whenever i see my fave boys, especially mammon, i think about how they'd react so i made this

Lucifer

remember. he is pride personified.

sure it's not an arrogant pride, more so stubborness

but!! in this case? oh yeah he knows he's hot shit and he couldn't be happier

funniest part is that the mfer usually has a smug and calm look on his face so when he's thinking about how you were just grinning over photos of him it doesn't really show to others

Mammon

he's boasting...

instantly in the HoL group chat he's going on and on about how he's better

how you ramble on and on over just looking at photos of him

he WILL NOT stfu about it... unless one of his stronger brothers makes him (lucifer or satan specifically)

would start sending you pictures of him at modeling jobs

Leviathan

oh he's flustered and confused

how could you blush over a smelly, bastard, gross otaku like him

and then he hears how sweetly you talk about him and he just gets more flustered and embarrassed

going over some of the pictures with him? maybe you'll build his confidence a bit

although im certain he'd still be fumbling his words and in awe at how you see him and love him

he's going to cherish this for a long time

Satan

he is his father's daughter son.

by that i mean to say that he's prideful about it but he's not focused on him and it being a natural fact like luci

and it's not bc out of all his brothers you're reacting like this about him like mamo or levi

nah this is him being better than lucifer. this is about you seeing him for him. this is about loving him from cute cat pics, rage and handsome

Asmodeus

it's worse than lucifer... mainly because he lives and breathes the reality that he is the most gorgeous thing in all the three realms

would constantly tease you over it

anytime you simply glance at him? "take a picture, darling. it'll last longer." (affectionate)

and me? personally? i'd wanna wipe the smirk off of his face

but for the folks who are in love with him?? you take multiple pictures instantly which he poses for ofc

you now receive every selfie he takes before he posts it on devilgram

Beelzebub

doesn't think much of it but is very happy about it

seeing you happy makes him happy, he's simple like that

at the same time he is very emotional intuitive, so he knows that when you swoon over the pictures it's more too it than his looks

hell the photos and your muttered words say it too, and he actually holds onto how sweet it all is

really makes his day that he's more than just brawn or someone who eats a lot to you...

he feels warm inside when you say he's your baby

Belphgor

he can look like he doesn't care, he can sound like it

but know for sure he's teasing you

and that teasing is the only way he can actually tell you he wants you to look at him more

being the baby, the seventh, and the least active/present brother he demands and needs the attention

might be sweet and smile at you more when you lock eyes, or just when he sees you... maybe even smiles in his sleep when hearing your voice or sensing your presence

i feel like he'd tease you if he catches you staring at him one day by saying "take a picture it'll last longer" (derogatory)

but please take pictures of him, he appreciates the attention

#omswd #obey me! swd #obey me x reader #om! lucifer #om! mammon #om! leviathan #om! satan #om! asmodeus #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor

151 notes · View notes

cemeteryvalentine · 1 year

Text

astro observations !!!! :3

keep in mind this is my first time doing this :p as i only rlly use tumblr 2 observe rather than actually posting anything lolz ^____^. also there's no specific theme and these observations r based off my own placements or my friendz n family 🙏

also, mentions of depression n trauma 🙏

------

sun/moon aspecting pluto

i feel like these people have a pretty shit relationship with atleast one parent. or atleast one parent left them. they also have like rllyy intense emotions, or even depression. my mom has her sun squaring pluto and her dad left her as a kid, she has a complicated relationship with her mother, and she haz depression 😭. another friend of mine has both sun and moon aspecting pluto, and he tells me about having really intense emotional periods.

sag rising

my mom and sister r both sagittarius risings and they both have very big thighs 😭

virgo placements

dude i feel like natals with virgo placements aren't always the cleanest, but they definitely do get grossed out easily. like my brothers a virgo stellium and i'm a virgo rising and both of our rooms are pretty messy but we get so grossed out over specific things. like my brother finds rags and old sponges soooo gross and i hate seeing used, dirty, balled up paper towels 😭

cancer in 11th

maybe itz just me but i kinda find all of my friends so adorable 😭 like in a way a mother would with their child(s) i think itz cuz cancer is like the mother of the zodiac and aquarius (11th) rules friendship and connections

leo and taurus placements

we loooove to be spoiled 😭 i got a taurus moon in a leo degree, leo mars, and a venus in a leo degree and holy fuck i loved being spoiled and praised. like random compliments, random gifts, money and shit and luxurious things and i'll fold

venus aspecting pluto

dude im alwayz hearing that this aspect is usually obsessive and duuude 😭 i have venus opposite pluto and i developed a crush and i feel like i'm being driven to insanity. like i feel like i get psychosis every time i realllyyy like someone 🙏

aries suns

i lvoe aries suns they give me a protective vibe, liiike whenever i'm sad around my aries friends, they'd b so mf quick to cuss out and fight whoever made me sad lolz ^____^ they're funny and out of pocket 2 🙏 and gay 😹 like this is just me but like all of my aries friends i've had r gay dudes

428 notes · View notes

zippidi-dooda · 2 months

Text

I am loving this event way more than I thought I would (haven't fully gone through it yet)

But I was not expecting Vil to go ham on insults

And this was just from what I played through today

Glad I'm not actually there cause I'd be in the background like "OOOOHHH! DAMN VIL, YOU TELL 'IM!!!" And Leona would hate me

Also love how we get the representation of someone who hates kids, I feel like there are few to no shows that demonstrate it

Cheka is cute and I love him, but I can understand Leona

To be honest, Leona has never really been on my roster, I am more of a Malleus/Deuce/Rollo type of gal

Leona just seems like someone more fun to bugger with

But this ...

This reveal???

Jaw dropping, king of the jungle for real, hubba hubba, hot dayum--Malleus forgive me

Another moment that I am glad I wasn't there for cause I was all over the other three's "take off the overcoat" reveal and would've been fan-girling over them, whooping and gassin' 'em up,

But the difference in how my reaction to seeing them compared to Leona would've been obvious

His aura was just so different and he doesn't show off his strength, he prefers brain over brawn, but now he was so smug about it

Like, yes, that's what I live for

Not to mention that I personally love the idea of "flirt fighting" which entails actually sparring. Wanting to better defend and strengthen yourself is the main motivator, but tension is a great plus.

And that's essentially everything he's doing here???

Get me in the ring with him, I will lose but I will enjoy every second of it

And then, when all's said and done,

He takes the time to actually voice his evaluation and assessment of everyone in a straightforward and nice way

I feel like I got to see a side of Leona I hadn't before and I'm really liking it

I remember reading a post about how Leona doesn't really resemble Scar who he's twisted from during the Book of Savanaclaw, where there was some good points made (namely, he kinda sat back while Ruggie did most of the dirty-work, it was on Leona's behalf but we didn't see much of him stringing Ruggie around).

But in this event we really get to see the "Scar Side" of Leona. His wit, his cunning and the issues that motivate Leona; he wants change for the better of his pride and knows how to get there quick, but others won't listen cause they have other values they'd like to keep in tact and it irritates him that they're putting the things that are (in his mind) more insignificant, first.

And I think introducing that part of Leona in this event instead of in Book of Savanaclaw works amazingly well because Leona is a prince, he is at NRC to learn yes but stays there (probably also gets held back on purpose so he'll have an excuse to stay away from home) to forget about his frustrations with his homeland. So, I think he wouldn't have much incentive to want to fix as much in his dorm or the school since his problems mainly lie back in his Kingdom.

Anyway, this is plenty fuel for happiness and story ideas and that's about all I have to share right now

(Also, the bow Grim is wearing is most similar to Leona's garb and since we are "a package deal" I'm assuming we're both wearing similar prints. So, we may be matching spectacularly with Leona. Dunno about you, but I'd gladly follow along as if I'm his trophy wife-- again, I'm sorry, Malleus don't come for me-- and also this is just more story fuel ...)

"Leona x reader x Malleus"

The story goes through the whole Cloud Calling event, with Y/N learning there's so much more to the lazy beastman than thought originally. But, when Lilia shows off the group's trip photos, Malleus is enraged to see you leaning happily against Leona in what are practically couples' clothes, the smug smirk the lion is sporting seems to be targeted specifically at the fae. What will happen when you return to NRC from your trip? Find out in the next episode

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst leona #leona kingscholar #leona analysis #cloudcalling on the savanna #twst event #leona x reader x malleus #twst lilia #twst kalim #twst vil #twst grim #long drabble

71 notes · View notes

slutshamethesquirrels · 4 months

Text

Lost Lamb

pastor's son!geto x fem!reader

length: 12.8K (oof my apologies)

cw/tw: prison, arrest, religious shenanigans, implied/referenced child abuse

Your ex, your first love, Suguru Geto has been granted parole after spending several years in prison for manslaughter. You want closure.

A Disclaimer:

friends, please listen to me before you start this fic: there is implied child abuse in here.

i intentionally left it vague, because i didn't want to dwell on it for any longer than i had to. i dont have any particular headcannon about what happened to the girls in this au. assume it's bad, basically is what i'm hinting at here.

Suguru Geto’s arrest had taken your small hometown by storm.

In the following weeks, everywhere you turned there was a reminder. His empty spot in the back pew on Sunday morning, his jacket on the door hanger in your bedroom, his mugshot plastered all over facebook. You wished every middle aged mother that commented on the posts accidentally got their fingers caught in the garbage disposal. You’d made the mistake of voicing that opinion to your own mother, who’d called you hateful.

Wow!! He was always such a sweet kid!! What happened!! PRAYERS!!

Is that pastor getos boy??

It’s that damn Gojo kid he's been hanging out with.

Sad. what happens when you take god out of schools.

i cant believe this!!

I knew the minute he refused to cut his hair and stretched his ears he was a lost cause.

Your parents had eventually taken away your phone, and after a particularly rough point, your bedroom door from its hinges.

Initially, he’d received a few charges. Murder in the second degree, and attempted kidnapping. Tacked on were lesser charges; unlawful possession of a firearm, simple possession of controlled substances. Eventually, those charges had been dropped and reduced until he was left with nothing but second degree manslaughter. It was a hell of a plea deal, and most of the town suspected it had to do with the family’s influence, however the judge had simply sighted “mitigating factors”.

You do your best to ignore the whispers, the rumors, but they bled in anyway. He was gone, long gone and yet he was right there on every local news station, in every tear, in every nightmare, falling from people's lips in the local diner:

“Did you hear about the pastor's kid?”

You can't see the nasally woman behind you, but you mind conjures up an image. Middle aged, bob cut, wrinkly and judgemental. You bet she collects expired coupons like Pokemon cards.

“Yeah! I actually went to that church a few times! Isn't that so scary?! I heard that he always sat behind those little girls at church. Creepy!”

Her equally as nosey friend wasn't wrong. Suguru did sit behind the Hasaba twins every Sunday. What they didn't know was he had confided to you once that they had a rough home life. Apparently his parents had temporarily taken them in for a while as toddlers so their parents could “sober up”, the details of which were unclear. He wouldn't give you specifics, but you could garner that whatever was happening behind the scenes since they’d been returned home wasn't good. You always thought Suguru was lying in wait for something to happen, though you never knew just what.

“I mean, how do you kill someone, kidnap their girls, and only get ten years?!”

“You have a preacher for a daddy, that's how.”

“That's crazy! And a possibility of parole after only three years?!”

“Girl, I know! And poor Mr.Hasaba! He always seemed so sweet, you know? He just had kind eyes.”

She had no idea what she was fucking talking about. That man was a creep. Your mother had an awful habit of making you hug older church members goodbye, and his hands always slid a little too low, held you a little too tight. He was insistent upon cheek kisses, and they always felt disgusting; sloppy clamps of his lips instead of soft polite pecks. Once, you’d tried to tell your parents you didn't want to hug him goodbye anymore, but they'd simply told you it was the polite thing for a little girl to do.

“I wonder what he had planned for those girls?”

“Thank god we’ll never know!”

But you wanted, needed to know. There wasn't a single part of you that didn't crave the answer to the question that had plagued you for weeks; What happened to him?

Suguru had always been a sweet boy. Your playground protector, puffing up his chest to kids twice his age when they pulled your pigtails. You recalled a time he'd found a dead bird on the lawn of the church, and promptly went and buried it by the woodline, complete with a few verses of Amazing Grace and a moment of silence. He'd cried, and you pinky promised to never ever tell anyone he'd gotten so upset.

A few years later, he’d become the envy of all your friends. Any girl in your grade would've killed to have a boy two grades above them walk them home every day. You had let them be jealous, and hadn't dared to tell them that you were pretty sure Suguru would never like you like that. In fact, when they started a rumor that you two had been caught kissing behind the bleachers, you didn't deny it at all.

Turns out you were wrong, and you’d never been happier than when Suguru had asked you to prom three years later. Your parents had been absolutely thrilled. By that point, Suguru had been around for years, and he had always been respectful and well-behaved.

Doors stayed wide open when he was over, but usually he didn't seem all that interested in whisking you away from the other members of your family, much more happy to sit in the living room, talking business with your father or future plans with your mother; she liked to prod him with intrusive questions, all of which he handled with exemplary grace. That doesn't mean they weren't mortifying for you, though. Suguru was your friend and here she was asking him about grandchildren.

You had a sneaking suspicion that it was less about your relationship with Suguru, and more about your relationship with Suguru, the pastor’s son. Your family name wasn't known for much in this town, but the Geto’s held control of the church and therefore, control of the town itself. To be related to them was your mother's golden ticket to sit with the uppity tennis-skirt wine moms at every ballgame. When he started sitting with your family every Sunday, she saw an opportunity and was more than willing to take it.

It didn't hit you until he arrived at your door in a fitted suit that night that maybe one day that could be a real possibility. You hadn't expected to feel like you did. Standing in the lowlight of the gymnasium, for the first time you noticed he'd grown to something beautiful. Long gone was your playground hero. He'd been replaced by someone taller, leaner, more… handsome. The chub of his cheeks was fading, but his dimples still appeared when he smiled, and everytime they did you got this roller coaster-esque feeling, like you were free falling right through the floor.

Your mom had reminded the two of you to leave room for Jesus when dancing, but that didn't stop you from wrapping your arms around his neck as you slow danced, pressing your body against his, making a mental note to repent later. His hands had fallen against the small of your back as you swayed, and it struck you just how big they'd gotten. The thought made you shudder. His forehead fell down against yours, awkward bangs toppling out of his bun and falling across your own forehead. You tried to keep your eyes open, memorize the way his lashes fluttered against his burning cheeks, but found the sight too powerful to withstand, instead shutting them. Which was maybe worse, because without the distraction of eyesight everything else felt so much more intense. You found the rise and fall of his chest comforting, the hotness of his breath fanning across your face intoxicating. You, somehow, hadn't expected it when he leaned forward and captured your bottom lip between his own, but it lit a fire in you that to this day you hadn't been able to quell completely.

He left for college your Junior year. You had tried to hold it in, not show any sign of weakness, but every minute you spent with him felt like a countdown. He was going to the city, where the girls were gorgeous and knowledge was a bottomless well. You couldn't convince yourself he'd still think of you, the girl from down the street with braces and bargain bin jeans when he had the whole world to choose from. It had all come to head on move-in day. For the first time, your parents allowed you to be alone with him. You were angry that it just so happened to be the day you'd have to leave him here, hours away. His assigned roommate hadn't arrived yet, so he got to pick which uncomfortable mattress and study desk would be his. Your hands shook as you pulled his clothing from bins, folding them and tucking them away into the stow-away drawers beneath his bed.

“Are you okay?” He’d asked, and that was all it took for the dam to bust. You’d frozen, one of his hoodies still gripped in your hands, but when you opened your mouth to assure you were just fine, your body had betrayed you. All that had come out was a broken sob. He’d immediately dropped to the floor beside you and pulled you into his lap, squeezing you like his life depended on it. He’d promised you he'd come home whenever he could, that he was definitely not going to forget about you.

”Y/n, I love you. Distance can't take that away from me.”

”You-. You love me?”

”Unconditionally.”

He buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent and planting gentle kisses to your scalp. It wasn't until he sniffled that you realized he was crying, too.

”I love you too.”

He couldn't come back until two summers later. Initially, you’d stayed in daily contact. But daily video chats had turned to weekly calls, and then texting only. Those texts spaced out and dissipated just like you’d always feared they would. You were surprised when he’d asked you to meet up, even more shocked to find out that he wanted you to meet him at a hotel, away from the prying eyes of your parents, or his for that matter. At first, you'd been elated, excited that he still wanted to see you after all that time, but on your drive over you’d become angry. Every moment you'd spent waiting to hear from him, every tear you’d cried, every helpless night spent laying awake hit you all at once.

You remembered your eighteenth birthday, spending most of your party glancing at your phone, hoping, just praying he’d call. You remembered your mother's funeral, when you’d listened to his father preach over her open casket, alone. You remembered that party where you’d been caged against the wall by a man much larger than you, when his lips had grazed your skin and you tried to close your eyes and imagine it was him.

He was waiting for you outside the door to the room he'd paid for, but instead of the boy you expected you were met with a fully grown man. He was chiseled, defined, from the angle of his jaw to the curve of his bicep fighting the fabric of his t-shirt. His hair was so long, silken loose locks flowing freely from his scalp and tumbling down his back.

“Hi.” He said, casually, like he hadn't broken every promise he made you and ruined every potential date since just by existing, and being him, and looking like that.

Tears well in your eyes, and you don't exactly know what the emotion behind them is; some combination of sorrow and infuriation and relief because he was here. He was finally here.

“Fuck you.” You half spit, half choke, a gurgled laugh escaping your throat because it was almost funny, wasn't it? The way he was fine and you were a fucking wreck.

He blinks, and then nods slowly, and has the audacity not to fight you back.

“I deserve that.” He pulls a white card from his pocket and keys the door open.

“You do. You really do, Geto.” You almost sound like you're pleading, but when he takes your hand and yanks you through the threshold you don't stop him. And when he backs you against the door you don't stop him. And when his lips crash into yours with an unprecedented fervor you kiss him back, lips and teeth mashing together, desperation taking hold as his tongue bullies it’s way past your lips. He moans into your mouth and you feel yourself absolutely gush at the sound, your body's reaction only serving to piss you off more.

You pull away and he dives into the crook of your neck, one large hand smacking flat onto the door above your head, the other reaching down to hike your knee around his waist.

“I’m fucking serious, Suguru! I hate you!” You cry out, but your hands tangle in his hair as he suckles on your sweet spot, marking you. You were his, you were always his, and you would always be his.

“I know.” He breathes, rocking against you and grunting as his clothed erection grinds against you, slowly at first, and then quicker, whimpers and whines mixing together in the heated air as sparks dance in your belly.

“You broke my heart.” You tell him as the hand against the door moves to hike your shirt up, bunching it around your neck as his head dips to lap at your skin. It’s messy, needy, the way he laps at you like a dog in heat.

“I know.” He repeats, and you realize he's sinking to one knee when he drops your leg, his fingers instead fumbling for the button of your jeans, doing his best to get them off before you change your mind.

“You fucking ruined everything. You ruined me.” Despite your words, you help him remove your pants and panties all at once, lifting your legs and balancing with your hands on his shoulders.

“I know.” He throws one of your legs over his shoulders and his eyes trail slowly from your face to where your core drips right in front of his eyes despite your protests.

“Who’d you shave for?” His eyebrows raise slightly in curiosity as he realizes you're free of all body hair, his eyes lifting to meet your face again.

“Did you expect me to wait for you?” You ask, chuckling incredulously “It's none of your business, really.”.

You don't tell him you have a boyfriend. Partly because you feel a sense of shame about being a cheater, but mostly because despite everything, you don't want to hurt him. Besides, it was nothing serious, just someone to attempt to fill the gaping hole left in your chest by the man kneeling in front of you. The man whose eyes had gone dark and predatory at your words. You’d never seen anything like it from him before. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight.

“Did he make you cum?” He hums, presses his lips into your thigh.

“Oh, fuck you, Suguru.” You spit, and then immediately yelp when his teeth sink into your soft flesh as a reprimand.

“Answer me.” He chuckles against your skin and he moves higher, his tongue flat and warm against the sensitive surface.

“Make me.”

“Bad move.” He deadpans, and then licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, agonizingly slow, smirking against your core as you whine. He repeats the motion once, twice, three times and then slurps at your entrance. The sound is disgusting, but you can't care when he's buried between your thighs, teasing you, playing with your cunt like a toy. You think you hear him mutter something about how good you taste but the blood pounding in your ears drowns it out.

“Come on, y/n. Answer me, baby. Did he make you cum?” He finishes his question off by parting his lips and blowing on your clit, the cool air icy against your arousal and his spit. You shake your head back and forth, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth and glaring down at him.

“ ‘No’ as in ‘No, he didn't.’ or ‘No’ as in ‘I’m not telling.’?”

“I’m not- ah!”

You're quick to swallow the rest of that sentence when he leans forward and begins eating you in earnest. That desperate motion is back, the flat tongued lapping he’d done to your chest earlier, eager to taste and take and pleasure you. His hand grips and the underside of your thigh that's hiked over his shoulder, nails leaving red crescent marks on your skin.

Your hands fly to grip his hair and you begin to rock against him in time with his strokes, crying out with every flick and swirl and lap of his tongue. The pressure builds as he learns your body, repeating motions that get the most reaction out of you until you're basically doubled over his head, white knuckle gripping his inky locks as you feel that white hot coil in your center wind tighter, and tighter, and-

He pulls back, laughing as you sputter out “Nonono please, please!”.

“Are you ready to tell me whether he made you cum or not?”

You could absolutely fucking scream. How dare he dangle your orgasm in front of you and rip it away, just like he’d done with every hope you had of a future with him.

“Ohmygod, he didn't make me cum but he also didn't abandon me after promising he wouldn't!”

His face falters beneath you, that devilish smile melting away just briefly as your words seem to hit him in the face. For just a second, he looks familiar again, and you realize those eyes are the same ones that wept for the bird in the courtyard all those years ago.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” He breathes, and before you can cry he's returning his mouth to your clit, closing his eyes and sighing into you as if the taste was soothing him somehow. His movements are now steady and fluid, and he uses more lips than before, almost making out with you in expert timing, lips smacking and slurping against you in a rhythmic motion. Below the lewdness, you can make out the sounds of him moaning, whimpering even as he drinks you down and if it didn't feel so good the fact that he seems so desperate for you would send you spiraling. This was the Suguru you knew. Honey sweet with an eagerness to please. You melt against him, gasping for air between whines. You couldn't even care that he was all but supporting your entire weight on his shoulder, but for what it's worth, he didn't seem to mind either.

A rough palm slides up the skin of your inner thigh, followed by the intrusion of two thick fingers gliding into you, not pumping but rather curling inside of you, sliding against a spot that has tears stinging at the corner of your eyes. Or maybe it is the fact that he’d come back to you after all that time, and you didn't know if he was planning on staying. Was he on his knees begging? You couldn't tell.

“Suguru, m’gonna- fuckyes, please! Cummingcummingcum-”

When your orgasm arrives, it washes across your body like ocean waves, one large crash of pleasure buckling your knees followed by several smaller ones, certain and steadfast.

He places your leg back down on the floor and you immediately fall to your knees, scrambling into his arms like he might run away if you don't, and he's quick to reposition himself beneath you so he can hold you in earnest. You think about the last time you were on the floor of some unfamiliar room with him and can't do anything but cry into his shoulder.

“Y/n?” He murmurs, and you hum inquisitively between hiccups.

“I don't believe in god.”

You draw a quick and stuttering breath as you brace yourself to sit back and look at him. His eyes are closed, though, like he can't look at you.

“I’m confused.” You admit, sniffling.

He opens his eyes to meet yours, his expression morose.

“I think I maybe never did. I always guilted myself, though. I thought-” He sighs and looks off to the side, his cheeks flushing as he speaks “I thought that it was the devil, trying to tempt me. I thought if I just prayed hard enough that it would go away-”

“Suguru, where is this coming from?” You ask, and he shifts underneath you, splaying his palm out behind him to support his weight, his free hand coming up to push his hair backwards, sliding through the root at his scalp and shaking the knots out, maybe anxiously.

“Just- just listen, please?”

That was years ago, when he’d explained to you how he lost touch with his faith. He called religion predatory, said it relied on offering desperate people a chance at salvation, at forgiveness, at love- only to take their money and run. Or convince them to vote one way or another. It was all a game of mind chess, at least to him.

He thought you’d hate him. He didn't want to hear you cry, beg him to come back home. He said hearing you devoutly defend the very system designed to harm you and keep you subservient would've been too much to take. He still loved you, by his own admission.

”There hasn't been a single day you didn't occupy my thoughts. I couldn't bring myself to rip you away from everything you've ever known.”

He would hate to see you now, crumpled at the altar, sobbing at the feet of his father, his mother's arms splayed across your body, her fingers intertwined with yours from above as she murmurs a prayer in your ear. She smells of the same laundry detergent his hoodies were always washed in, and it makes it all the more painful.

His parole hearing had been on Friday. His request for parole had been granted.

“Heavenly Father, we come before you with a heavy heart, burdened with the pain of one who has strayed from your path.”

It was always a little jarring, the way Suguru’s loss of faith came first in his list of sins in the forefront of his parent's minds. Still, all these years later, there's no one that still held this hurt the way you did.

”We know that your love is unconditional and your mercy boundless. I pray that you will lend us your grace to envelop my son, my sweet boy, in your grace and help guide him back to your light.”

You didn't know if you wanted to be a part of that. You wanted answers, mostly. You knew there had to be some reason, some explanation for his actions. You cry harder.

”Lord, I ask for y/n to be a vessel of your strength and wisdom in this difficult time. Help her to be a model of your love, showing patience, understanding, and unwavering faith. Grant her the courage to stand firm in her convictions while extending compassion and support.”

You can't argue with her, can't tell her that God has had his line disconnected for you since the day Suguru was arrested. At some point, you realized Suguru was right. Religion was a ploy for desperate people, and god were you desperate.

”Touch the heart of my baby, Lord. Open his eyes to your truth and fill his spirit with a yearning for your presence. May he feel your divine touch and hear your gentle whisper, calling him back to the fold.”

You didn't know what you could possibly say to him. Two weeks. Two weeks from today he would be home. You can't imagine what he’ll look like with a monitor strapped to his ankle. Your brain feels like sludge, so you focus on inhaling that familiar scent, imagining that it's him draped over your shoulders, the same way he'd hold you at football games in highschool.

”We trust in your divine plan, knowing that your ways are higher than our own. Let your will be done, Father, and give us peace in knowing that you are always at work, even when we cannot see the path ahead.”

For a while she just sobs into your shoulder, her white hot tears scalding your skin through your blouse as she cries.

”God, thank you. Thank you for bringing my baby boy home.”

***

“Y/n! Please, come in!”

The Geto household had been a second home to you growing up. As you stepped past Suguru’s mother into the entryway and began to remove your shoes, memories flooded your head like raging waters. Everything was so comfortable, so familiar. The gentle years-old carpet cradling your newly socked feet had been the backdrop for countless play dates, one- sided wrestling matches, and forts built from the blankets that had always been strewn across the leather couches and the barstools you knew awaited you just around the corner in the kitchen. You can almost see where your feet had worn a permanent path from the front door up the stairs to his bedroom door, though there's a part of you that knows that's unreasonable.

Pastor Geto and his wife both stood at the foot of the staircase, looking tense as they watched you shed your jacket and hang it on the coat rack. When you turn, you brush yourself off and wring your hands together. Despite the familiar place, everything feels uncomfortable. The skin of your hands feels like sheets of sandpaper grinding against each other, your jeans are pinching your waist uncomfortably, your shirt is constricting, it's too cold, it's too hot-

“Where is he?” You finally ask. You don't know why you're whispering.

“Upstairs, sleeping. He's…” Pastor Geto trails off, lets his head fall forward, and then up to the ceiling. Anywhere but your face.

“He's struggling with the adjustment period, we think.” Suguru’s mom cuts in, taking on the classic too-soft voice of an evangelical woman “He's been sleeping a lot.”. She nods, as if it's herself she wants to convince.

Your eyes trail up the stairs, and you nod and go to take a step forward, only to get stopped by the Pastor's hand on your shoulder. You lift your apprehensive eyes to meet his.

“Before you go, we wanted to know if it would be better for us to stay or if you wanted us to go. It's whichever you think will be best.”

Geto’s mother cuts in, quickly elaborating:

“We thought it may be best to give you privacy. We know this is emotional for everyone involved, but if you're worried…”

Oh. They don't want to leave you if you think he's going to hurt you. The thought almost makes you laugh, and then you remembered the whole reason you were here is because he was violent. Your Suguru, the one you knew, wasn't. But this one…

“It's okay, you can go.”

You wonder if that was the right choice as you watch them go, but ultimately you knew it was. If he could- if he did harm you, it couldn't be any worse than what he’d already done. At this point, a swift death would be a mercy.

Every step from the ground floor to the second is a labor, but you couldn't decide if it was one of love or desperation. You felt like twenty pound weights had been attached to your ankles, each stretch of your muscles burning like you’d just run a marathon. You know that twelve feet of altitude does absolutely nothing to air quality, and yet somehow with each rising inch you feel like the atmosphere thins. You reach the top of the stairs and creep your way down the hall, making eye contact with the pictures on the wall. Cheesy mall-quality photoshoots of him and his family, all wearing matching outfits and smiling in perfectly practiced photos. There are others, too; family dogs that had since passed, distant relatives you didn't recognize, your prom photo.

You physically recoil from the image. His hands resting on your waist, the butterfly kiss of the tip of his nose against your cheek that was covered in just a tad too much blush, the genuine smile you both held as you laughed not for the camera, but in spite of it. You remembered that night like it was yesterday. You remembered how gentle he’d been with you. Did he still know how to do that?

You pause to take a deep breath before you knock on his door, wrapping lightly at first to no avail, and then a little harder when you remembered he was asleep.

“Yeah?!” His voice echoes from the other side and from the tone alone you realize he thinks it's one of his parents. You bite your lip and try not to cry. Not yet.

“It's-”

God, why did your throat fucking burn like that?

“It's me. It's just me.” You call out.

For a second, all is quiet, and then your heart drops straight through to the ground when you hear frenzied shuffling coupled with the uneven slap of large feet against the floor from the other side of the door. He's flung it open in less time than you can back away, a t-shirt still following over the lower half of his abdomen as he stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide and his lips parted open as his breath seems to get caught in his chest. His hair is messy and his eyes are tired; soft purple circles beneath the expansive brown irises you’d always adored.

“Y/n?” It comes out as a question, like he can't believe you're actually standing there.

“Hi.” Is all you can manage.

You weren't sure what to expect, but it wasn't for him to sink to his knees in the open doorway, folding into himself and bowing whether he intended to or not. On the way down, his hands reach out for you, but stop just short of touching you, instead he pulls them beneath him, hugging them to his chest like he was simply trying to disappear into his self. You understood the feeling.

“Fuck, y/n.” It comes out as barely more than a whimper.

Moments pass like trying to pour cool molasses. You're stunned by indecision, stuck between what you know you should do and what your instincts demand of you. You’d never seen him so vulnerable before. His pride always, fucking always, won out over his emotions. But here he was, crumpled beneath you like a wounded man, assuming the same position you took at the altar every sunday. Was he asking of you what you asked of god? For grace and mercy and relief? For love?

You notice beneath the mass of knotted hair a tremor in his shoulders. It was quiet, near silent, but you could hear the faintest sniffling. He was crying. You had only ever seen him cry once before.

You sink to your knees in front of him in a much more controlled manner, but your fingers still shake as you shuffle forward on all fours until you can reach out and slot your fingers through his hair, grazing his scalp with your fingertips. His hair wasn't as soft as it used to be. You doubted they had his ridiculously expensive choice of shampoo in prison.

“You’re a wreck, Suguru.” You point out, and although you meant for it to sound very tough and strong-willed, it comes out in a breathy, shaky murmur.

He chuckles in a low rumbling tone, and then sits back on his knees, his palms rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to wipe away the tears before you can see them “I guess you could say that.”.

You sit back as well, planting your hands on your thighs and rolling your lip between your teeth and nodding slowly. It was too easy. You were too comfortable. You had the urge to throw yourself into him just like that, but you wouldn't. You couldn't. Right? You open your mouth to ask him why, or to scream, or to tell him that he was the lowest of the low, but nothing comes out, so you shut it again.

“Y/n” He breaks the silence first “I understand if you hate me, you have every reason to, but holy shit you have no idea how happy I am to see you.”.

His face is blank but there's a hopeful spark in his eyes. He looks just like he did the day he asked you to be his girlfriend, just like he did when he'd touched you under your skirt for the first time, just like when he'd met you outside that hotel room all those years ago. He doesn't want to show you his entire hand, but the cards reflect in his irises.

You despise yourself for your reaction.

You crawl towards him until you’re close enough to touch him, your arms slithering around his neck as you pull him into a hug. For a moment, he tenses, like he’s unsure if he should reciprocate, but then you squeeze tighter, practically begging him through action alone, and he concedes, strong arms snaking around your center as he buries his face in your shoulder. The sensation was both foreign and familiar. You’d been wrapped up in him more times than you could count on ten fingers and all your toes, but yet this one felt independent of the others. His palms were still warm, inviting, splaying out across either set of ribs from behind as if to guard your very breath from the open space behind you, but he was bigger now, buffer, his arms almost swallowed you whole and you find yourself briefly pondering if he’d spent his time in prison exercising. You refuse to let yourself think about him in an orange jumpsuit, or how his biceps would flex as he did pushups. It was not the time.

“Are you not afraid of me?” He murmurs, and you shake your head slowly.

“I know I should be.” You admit “I just can’t- I, I don’t- I missed you.”.

Your voice cracks and you choke a small sob into his hair. You were no stranger to crying by this point, but this time was less violent then the fits you’d become accustomed to dealing with thrice daily since the day of his arrest. These were tears of relief, you realized. It didn’t matter what he’d done, he was still Suguru. You still felt at home in his embrace. You still slotted perfectly against his form.

“I missed you too, y/n.” He squeezes you, just slightly, to accentuate his words “You were on my mind from the moment I saw those blue lights in my rearview all the way up until I fell asleep this morning, please believe me.”.

You pull the world's biggest breath in through your nostrils, leaning back with your hands on both of his shoulders, looking into eyes you’d dreamt about for years.

“You have so much explaining to do, you asshole.”

He cracks a small, tight lipped grin “I know.”.

A few minutes later, you're sitting on the foot of his queen sized childhood mattress with your legs crossed in a spot you’d been in many times before. In fact, it was “your spot” if you were to ask Shoko or Nanami. When you were younger, Suguru’s house had been optimal for studying. Your room was too small, Shoko’s family was dysfunctional, and Nanami swore he’d rather fail pre-calc then to ever let the three of you inside his house. Plus, Suguru had the biggest bed out of the three of you, plenty of room for laptops and papers and textbooks and snacks. The rules set by the Geto’s were that the door was to be left wide open and you and Shoko were to remain six feet apart from the boys at all times, so they would settle themselves at the top of the bed and you and Shoko would nestle yourselves at the foot. No one dared to even dream of mentioning that Shoko was way more likely to make a sexual advance towards you than either of the boys.

Suguru grabs a hairbrush from atop his dresser before settling into the head of the bed, letting muscle memory take over as he rakes it through his hair, as if he was suddenly conscious of the way he looked. It catches on the knots intermittently, causing him to wince against the feeling.

“Nice anklet.” You attempt to soothe the awkward tension with a joke “Where’d you get it?”.

His eyes flash down to his ankle monitor, and he laughs, a little mirthless, before shooting back:

“Claire’s.”

You snort and shake your head at him, trying to find a way to ask the questions that really needed to be asked without making it awkward, though at this point it seems almost impossible. He finishes up with his hair and tosses the brush onto his nightstand as he speaks.

“I wouldn’t recommend getting one, personally. You have to plug yourself into charge twice a day or you go to prison.”

“Mmhmm,” You hum “You know, your mom used to tell me this thing- something about actions and consequences, no- games and prizes-”. You sarcastically attempt to lament over just what it was, but you both know the answer.

“Would that be, uh, ’Play dumb games, win dumb prizes.’ ?” He plays your game with a smirk as you nod enthusiastically, sarcasm practically dripping from your hair as it shakes with the motion.

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, but heat floods his face and his eyes land on the carpet of his childhood bedroom. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? Shame was good. Shame meant he knew he’d done something terrible. Shame meant there was hope.

“I know you’re waiting on answers.” He breaks the silence for you with a sigh, leaning forward and pawing at his forehead with his fingertips, as if he could rub away the clutter in his brain “But I don’t even know where to start.”. A sigh.

You nod, swallowing thickly, your eyes tracing the plaster on the ceiling “How about the beginning?”.

You didn’t mean it as a joke, but he giggles anyway “Yeah, I guess that would be a good starting point, huh?”. And so, following a brief pause, he tells you everything.

It started when the girls had been taken by child protective services. Panicked, their mother had called the Geto’s in a frenzy, begging them to take temporary custody while the Hasaba’s sorted out whatever it was that was going on at home. Seventeen and sheltered, Suguru’s parents had never given him all the details of why they were there in the first place, but in the sixth months they’d been there he’d undeniably grown attached to them. He described Nanako as “spunky”, said she had an affinity for fashion and anything shiny and pink. She was your stereotypical little girl, full of sass and glitter. Mimiko, on the other hand, was quiet, reserved, and spent her afternoons sat at the kitchen table with a handful of crayons and a few sheets of printer paper. She preferred not to be seen or heard.

Suguru was good with kids, he always had been. The girls were quick to shove into the role of big brother; protector. It was where he fit naturally. A fact you yourself had taken advantage of throughout your own childhood. There were no bullies, no monsters, no fears when Suguru was there. Nothing could get you. The girls seemed to have felt much the same. Nanako enjoyed pestering him, even at the big age of four whole years old. She’d beat on his bedroom door while he was studying, demanding he play with her. Drop Legos down in his boots when he wasn’t looking, force him to sit in the living room for hours on end while she knotted his hair up with sparkly elastics and butterfly clips. Mimiko, on the other hand, seemed to be afraid of him for the first few weeks, peering at him around corners as her sister made him her personal bitch.

“Eventually, she let her guard down.” He smiles fondly, shaking his head “I remember the first time she actually hung out with us. She brought her bucket of blocks out in the front yard and set like, six feet away from us while we drew on the sidewalk with chalk- well, I drew on the sidewalk. Nanako drew more on me than anything else. I’ll never understand how she figured out if she wet the chalk first it would stick to my hair. That was the longest shower I’ve ever taken in my life-”

With each passing day, Mimiko would sit a little closer, look a little longer at whatever Suguru and Nanako were getting into. Eventually, she spoke, asked if she could play, too.

“We were eating dinner one day and Nanako asked if I would be coming home with them when the time came. I had to tell her no. I didn’t even think Mimiko was listening, but she got up with her food and just went to her room.”

For a while, Mimiko had reset, if not backslid to a state worse than the one she had arrived in. This all came to a head after their final meeting with their case worker, after which Pastor Geto had enthusiastically told the girls that they would be returning to their parents soon. That night, Mimiko had simply strutted into Suguru’s open bedroom door to find him slaving over his laptop in the middle of the floor, diligently studying for his SAT’s. She’d come in with the force of a person four times her size and began absolutely pummeling him to the best of her tiny ability.

“I didn’t know what to do with that.” His brow furrows, troubled as he recalls the memory, his eyes darkening “It’s not like it hurt, you know? Not really, she was a preschooler and I was over six foot tall but still- kids aren’t supposed to hit, you know? And it was… she wasn’t hitting me like a child hits people, y/n. She was throwing legitimate left and right hooks, with follow through, and I just remember wondering where the hell she learned that. Anyway-”

He’d gripped her arms, just enough to contain her, and she’d shrieked with all her might, kicking and screaming at him to let her go while he begged her to calm down.

“Mimi, what’s wrong? Why are you being cruel to me?”

”I don’t want me to leave you!”

The immature phrasing breaks your heart. You could imagine what his reaction had been. The same soft pout he’d given you over and over throughout the years.

“I just held her, rocked her, tried to convince her she could come play whenever she wanted, y’know? But she was absolutely inconsolable. So I asked her why she didn’t want to go home, and she… God, she said-”

”He hurts us.”

“Their dad?” You interject, your voice trembling against your heightened emotion. You can feel dread pooling in your gut as he nods, confirming.

“What-” You swallow, feeling nauseated “What did she mean by that?”.

He looks you dead in the eyes and your blood runs cold. You had never before seen that expression cross his features. His eyes were always dark, but in that moment you were peering into a lightless cavern. He doesn’t elaborate, only shakes his head ‘no’. You don’t push it, and the momentary lapse of sanity seems to fade. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

He’d taken that information directly to his parents, who had reminded him that redemption was always possible. That we as people had to have grace for others. Jesus was friends with societal rejects. Whores, thieves, and beggars. All they could do was pray about it, they’d said, the rest was up to God and the state.

He left for college not long after that, but he couldn’t get the thought out of his head.

God and the state.

He tried them both. Over and over, spending his free time on his knees at the nearest chapel to his college campus, spending the drive home calling and anonymously reporting what he knew to any government official he thought would listen. All of his calls went unanswered, ultimately.

“The longer it went on, I- I don’t know. I went insane a little bit, I think. It’s kind of a blur. I just tried to knuckle down and study. The less I thought about it, the better I felt. And then Satoru-” He chuckles at the name, shaking his head incredulously and pawing at his eyes as he giggled like a little boy “Fucking. Satoru.”.

His college roomate, who you’d met briefly the summer before the arrest. You thought him to be a little wild, a little brash, but nothing prepared you for Suguru to tell you he was a little more than into psychedelics. He was always trying to get Suguru to loosen up a little, let himself experience something outside of the mundane small town life he’d always lived. Satoru was spoiled, rude, a nepo baby who’s daddy “allegedly” paid a large sum of under the table cash for him to attend the same prestigious college that Suguru did despite having a GPA lower than the Mariana Trench.

“He isn’t dumb, though. He’s actually a genius, I think. He could comprehend academic concepts I had to study hours for in minutes. He just has this thing with authority-”

It wasn’t until Satoru convinced him to start smoking pot that Suguru began to question the existence of god.

You screw your face up, and he puts a hand out to halt you from saying something you were never intending to say in the first place.

“Weed had very little to do with this. I didn’t get high and decide to murder anyone, it’s not like that. It just took the edge off of everything. I don’t think I knew I experienced anxiety until I smoked for the first time and knew what the world felt like without it.”

Without the cutting edge of his inner turmoil, and away from the prying eyes of his parents, he came to a conclusion one night while sprawled across his dorm bed as his high pulled him off to sleep; maybe God couldn’t do anything because he didn’t exist, and the state couldn’t care enough to do something about it, but he could.

He fought himself on it for a long while.

But every time he'd come home, he'd sit behind the girls in church, already perturbed by his irritation with religious ideologies, already uncomfortable with the way his Sunday best was digging at his skin- and Mimiko would throw glances at him over her shoulder, her eyes begging for him- for anyone to intervene.

“Do you remember the last Sunday I saw you before it happened?” He asked, and you nodded, your throat feeling tight at the memory.

You knew he hated church, it was all he’d ever talk about on the drive to the local burger joint after. You hated thinking of him in this way when he was so frustrated, but you always thought he looked incredible pulling his hair loose from his signature bun, thought his fingers looked so pretty tugging at the top buttons of his shirt, thought his snarl looked just as enticing as his smile in the afternoon light. Sometimes he'd pull his car off an old dirt road after, hike up your dress and take you right there just to blow off steam.

That Sunday was different, though. He had driven you straight home, his hands white knuckle gripped on the wheel at ten and two. Precise, methodical. His jaw clenched so tight you worried for his teeth. You’d considered asking if he was okay, but your mother whispered to you from the grave not to bother with men when they get like this. So you’d sat in thick silence, not even the radio on to help dampen the hellfire you could feel omitting from his pores.

“You know the Hasaba’s?”

He'd asked you, his voice grim and his eyes never leaving the road. You had nodded, a small

”Yes.”

Falling from your lips. His fingers had tapped against the steering wheel as he inhaled through flared nostrils.

”You ever notice how the dad's always a little weird with young girls?”

You didn't recognize his voice that day.

”Yes.”

He chewed on his cheek, nodding slowly, swallowing back bile.

”He ever make you uncomfortable? Push any boundaries?”

You’d gone silent, fixing your face to your passenger window, your breathing going uneven. You couldn't explain it, but you felt like it was wrong to answer that question truthfully.

He spoke your name like a warning.

”No.”

He’d laughed. Not the laugh you knew him for, but once that was low, humorless, painted in disbelief.

”Liar.”

“You were a real prick that day, y’know?” You half-spit at him, but your animosity is quickly quelled by his response.

He nods, pursing his lips “Yeah. I know. I don't know where my head was at the time, I think I had long since lost it. I could've at least told you I loved you before I pulled away-”.

“But you didn't.” You whisper, almost accusatory.

“You’re right. I didn't. It's one of my biggest regrets.”

When he’d dropped you off at your house, he hadn't walked you to your door or chatted with your dad like he usually did. He hadn't even looked at you, or waited in his car for you to get safely inside, instead speeding away before you'd even made it six feet from the car.

Three days later around dawn, the town was rocked by the news of Mr.Hasaba’s murder. He was found face up in his living room with a singular bullet lodged in between his eyes. It hadn't taken long for the authorities to lock in on Suguru. What are the odds that one man dies and another disappears in the same county at the same time? What are the odds that they attend the same church? What are the odds that the families would be intertwined and blended by way of two vulnerable little girls? It was obvious.

“The girls…” You struggle to find your words. This was the biggest part for you “What happened to them? What was your plan?”.

“I had them in the car before I ever pulled my handgun out. They were watching a movie on my phone with headphones in. Y/n, I know what people must think but you have to believe me, I would never hurt them.” His voice becomes rushed and hurried at the end, crackling on the edges and you can't help but scoot closer, holding your hands out for him to take. He does, and you give him a pointed look.

“I know. I believe you.”

He takes a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment and then reopening before he continues.

“Satoru has this Aunt that lives upstate. She's middle aged, super rich, and has always wanted kids but can't have them. Uterine cancer took that away from her in her twenties. I always thought she'd be a great mom so I-”

You nod, understanding, your body sagging as you feel more weight than you knew you’d been carrying falling off your shoulders as he tells you about his plan to get the girls to her. He’d been apprehended about an hour out, but he'd begged the officers to call her.

“I told them I’d take whatever punishment they gave me without a fuss if they'd just get the girls to her. Life in prison, death row, whatever. The officers told me that wasn't for them to decide but they called her anyway and she was there within the hour filing an emergency protective order.”

He smiles a little “She’d never met them, y'know? But she heard there were kids that needed her and immediately rushed to get them. That's exactly what the girls needed, that type of love.”.

Apparently, the system smiles fondly at those who take down child abusers. Or at least, in his case they did. The D.A. had thrown out a hell of a plea deal in record timing after reading over his case.

“I still had to go to court for sentencing though. I think it helped that the girls were there. They were technically classified as 'victims’ but they got so excited to see me that Satoru's aunt had to take them out of the courtroom before anything had even started. They were yelling at me, yelling that they wanted to sit with me. I think the judge was a little amused.”

You squeeze his hands, smiling up at him through misty eyes.

“Don't look at me like that,” He breathes, his eyes soft “I’m not a hero, y/n. What I did was awful-”.

“I know. But you're not a monster either. I was so scared that…” You trail off and shake your head, not sure of what you're denying.

“It's okay,” He reassures with a placating smile “I get it.”.

“You don't, though.” You tell him, watching as his face contorts in confusion “Do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?”.

He nods “In my dorm.”.

“Right. Do you remember what I said?” You're slowly inching forward, crawling into his lap.

“You asked me if I loved you, like you couldn't believe it.”

You hum the affirmative, settling yourself on his thighs “And you told me you did. Unconditionally.”.

He nods, obviously still confused, and you let go of his hands to run your fingers along his jawline, noticing the way his cheeks flared red beneath your proximity.

“Whether or not you meant to, you set a precedent for me. Unconditional love is all I’ve ever known with you, Suguru. I was scared that if I came up here today and found every rumor to be true that I’d still love you… because I would. I’m glad that doesn't have to be the case.”

His lips meet yours, hesitantly at first, his hands carefully cupping the sides of your face and his thumbs swiping at the skin there, almost petting you in a way. His tongue pokes past his lips, just slightly, swiping against your lips deliberately. You're happy to part your lips for him, whimpering as he swirls his tongue with yours and washes you in the familiar taste. The wet sound and a pitiful handful of whines from somewhere deep in your chest fill the once stale and silent space as he guides you down and backward until your spine is flush with the mattress, one hand moving to cradle your head like you were breakable, like you falling against even something as soft as the plush of his bed without his protective grip may shatter you.

He pulls his lips from yours and hovers over you, planting both hands on the comforter on either side of your head, his hair tumbling down around you like a veil, until all you can really see is an obsidian void and him, him, him. His lips are pursed, eyebrows furrowing as he inhales slowly and his eyes flutter shut.

“I’m sorry, you didn't come here for this. I lost control, I-”

“Suguru Geto.” You reach up and let your fingers dance along his devastating jawline until you're gripping his chin between your pointer and your thumb. He opens his eyes slowly. You always thought he looked a little fox-like, his features pointed and sly, yet so soft on the edges. Gorgeous. He was always so god damn gorgeous.

“I don't believe in god. I can’t anymore. But every fucking night I’ve prayed for you. Just in case.”

His eyes flick across your features, some combination of reverence mixing with guilt painting his features.

“I’m sor-”

You cut him off again, this time by taking your fingers and sliding between his parted lips, pressing against his tongue to silence him. His eyebrows widen in shock at your dauntlessness.

“No. No more apologies. What I’m trying to tell you is that I love you, Suguru. If you want to apologize, fuck me like you're sorry.”

His eyes darken as you speak and he swirls his tongue around your fingers before sliding his mouth off of them with a wet popping noise, reaching up to grab your wrists and pin them on either side of your head, laying flush against your body as he dips into the soft curve of your neck, slurping and lapping at the skin there like all he ever wanted was to taste you.

“Since when did you get bossy?” He questions between kisses, a hiss pushing through his teeth when you grind down on his thigh “I’m not gonna lie, I kind of like it-”.

His teeth sink into your flesh and you rock harder against him, whining pathetically as he dips his head lower, letting go of your wrists only to rid you of your shirt and yank your bra down, not bothering with taking it completely off before he's got his mouth wrapped around one nipple, lapping in fat motions back and forth across your areola while one hand gropes your free breast, his thumb swiping back and forth over your stiffening nipple.

You curse and keen, writhing beneath him as he teased, relishing in his expert conduction of your body as he alternates between your breasts, sucking on your sensitive nipples and looking up at you with blown out pupils, drinking in the way your face contorts when he gets it just right. It isn't until your entire chest is damp with his saliva that you grip his hair, pushing on him and urging him downwards.

He chuckles but doesn't move, smirking up at you with sparks in his eyes “Use your words.”.

You pout, huffing dramatically “That's not very apologetic behavior, Sugu.”.

“How can I apologize appropriately when I don't know what it is you're asking for?” He coos, his grin carrying a wicked edge.

“You’re impossible, I’ll do it myself.” You push him back from you and he cocks a singular eyebrow as he watches you wiggle around and rid yourself of your remaining clothing, re-settling on his bed with your legs parted, your pussy practically dripping down your ass and onto his sheets. You realize as you trace over his still and captivated expression that you weren’t the only one that no longer knew the other. Just as you’d spent years apart from him, he’d spent years apart from you. You are different now. Older, wiser, more bold, less likely to take his shit.

You trace your body with your hand until the pads of your fingertips slip through your folds and make contact with your clit, your movements slow and deliberate, for now. Suguru’s eyes trace your every movement as he stands on the side of the bed and begins to shed his own clothing.

“Who’d you shave for this time?” He asks, the sound muffled as his shirt slides up over his chiseled frame and then his head.

“Why? Jealous?” You tease, and he scoffs incredulously as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down and shedding them one leg at a time, taking a little longer on the leg that has the ankle monitor.

You move your fingers a little faster as you shamelessly reach out your free hand to palm him through his boxers, a moan escaping your lips as you begin to feel the pleasure of your own hand.

He grunts and tosses his head back, shamelessly thrusting against your hand “What if I am?”.

“Then you’d be dumb,” You fight to keep your tone even and confident “because I did it for you.”.

“Fuck.” He spits, seemingly losing all patience as he lunges down and flips your body until your front is flush against the mattress, your legs dangling off the edge and your toes barely touching the floor “Are you serious? Tell me you’re serious, y/n. You knew you were going to fuck me today?”.

“I didn't know, exactly- shit!” Your hips buck involuntarily as his hand slips between your thighs to roll your clit between his fingers, hard and slow “B-but there was a part of me that- nngh!- hoped-”.

That seems to be something akin to the answer he wanted, because he straight up moans into your shoulder blades before slathering the area in sloppy kisses, trailing down your spine with fervor.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” It's a question but you can't formulate a response, not when two of his fingers are slipping inside of you, stretching you out so deliciously “From here on out, I’m gonna be the best fucking husband you could ever ask for. You'll want for nothing. Just say it, tell me you belong to me, y/n.”.

“Husband?!” You half question half squeak, but he ignores you, only curling his fingers inside you with precision, hitting that gummy spot you could never reach with your own fingers that had you burying your face in the comforter to muffle your moans.

He pulls his fingers out of you and you almost protest but then he's on his knees, burying his face into your cunt from behind and causing you to nearly scream into the mattress. You give his college days credit for how fucking good he is at giving head, his thumbs spreading your lips wide so he can trace around your clit with precision, tracing figure eights around the sensitive nub before flattening his tongue and sliding one slow and wide stripe through your entrance. You expect him to stop there but he doesn’t, continuing his trail across your other hole and all the way along the crack of your ass.

“Suguru!” You're unsure if you're reprimanding him or crying out for more, and when you throw a glance over your shoulder he simply keeps his gaze locked on yours as he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of your asscheek, causing you to yelp.

“Say it.” He tells you, his hand moving to toy with your clit.

“Say what?” You know what. You just wanna see how far he'll take this.

He tsks disapprovingly, his free hand moving to push two fingers into you again, curling in time with the stars he was drawing in your clit “I can do this all day, you beautiful little brat.”.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, your eyes scrunching shut as he adds a third finger, the stretch making you see stars. The flame that had been on a low simmer in your gut was now a roaring fire, flames lapping at every inch of your exposed skin with every well timed movement. It wouldn't be long before you fell apart on his fingers and you knew it.

Apparently, he did too, because he slows his movements to a torturous pace, chuckling as you attempt to shove yourself backwards onto his fingers as he pulls them back in time with your movements, seemingly amused with the way you’re squealing his name in frustration. It’s not enough, and too much. It’s so mean, and yet you can’t imagine yourself going a day without it ever again. You can’t imagine yourself going a day without him ever again.

“Make me cum, please-” You beg, and he hums condescendingly.

“You know I’d love to, doll but unfortunately I’m still waiting on those magic words.” He sighs dramatically and picks up the pace again, waiting patiently for your walls to start spasming around his digits again before returning to the same daunting pace.

“Oh my god!” You groan in frustration, slamming your face down into the mattress like a petulant child, one fist meeting the space beside your head in a shaky dejected punch.

“It’s actually ‘Suguru’, thanks.” He quips, and you’ve officially had enough.

You scramble forward until he’s pulling out and off of you with a slick lewd sound, and then flipping around to face him, all but climbing his body like a tree before twisting ever lock of hair you can find in one fist, yanking him down to eye level with you and using your unoccupied hand to shove your finger in his face with a exasperated pout.

“You, sir, are supposed to be groveling.” You remind him, and he smiles genuinely, with his whole face, his eyes scrunching into crescent moons and the white of his canines shining through plush and soiled lips. You have the same realization you had at sixteen; he’s so beautiful. Even now, even after everything.

…And then his tongue darts out and swipes a stripe up your pointed finger, and you cry out in protest and yank him back a little by the hair that was still gathered in your fist like he hadn’t just licked your literal genitalia, and he laughs the same way he did when you were kids, and your heart explodes in your chest.

“Is that what it takes?” He asks, his words coming out a little breathless, accompanied by a small chuckle “If it’ll get you to tell me you’re mine, I’ll grovel.”.

You roll your eyes, but he's undeterred as he reaches back and grabs your wrist, squeezing lightly to signal for you to loosen your fingers. You do, and he pulls your wrist to his lips, kissing languidly in gentle motions up your arm until hes reached your jawline, murmuring against your skin as he does so.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I never ever wanted to leave you. I love you, please. I love you, I’m so sorry.” His lips tickle against your skin, and he remedies it with kitten licks that have goosebumps erupting from your skin and heat pooling in your core.

His lips find yours and you feel yourself swelling with emotion as he speaks between sloppy wet smacks of your lips.

“M’ gonna get my shit together.” He promises “Gonna give you everything you want and then some. Doesn't matter if that's a camper that we drive around the country or a big house with a picket fence and a couple kids. I'll spend my life worshiping you, y/n. It's all I know how to do.”.

“Okayokayokay-!” You concede as you push yourself backwards as far as possible “I give up, I’m yours. Shut up and fuck me before you make me cry again.”.

He giggles and it sounds the mid-notes on a piano. Comforting, familiar “Since when are you afraid to cry in front of me? That's kind of our whole thing; crying.”.

“I’m not afraid, Suguru.” You scoff “I'm just sick of crying. I don't want to anymore.”.

You dip your hand into his boxers, taking his weight into your hand, causing him to hiss directly into your open mouth in response. You hadn't realized just how much you were affecting him, but the head of his cock is already slathered in precum, making it easy to stroke him in the way you know he likes, applying more pressure at the head and a little less at the base, pausing occasionally to press your thumb in circles across his slit, needy whines escaping your lips every time he blesses you with another drop of wetness, every time his cock twitches in your grasp.

“Shit, slow down-” He gasps, but grunts as he fucks into your closed fist regardless, like he can't help himself.

“Awh, Sugu, gonna come from a two minute handjob? Who are you?” You tease, and he can't even bother to giggle along with you, his brow furrowed in concentration and his lips parted in pleasure as he reaches down to push his boxers down to his thighs so he can watch you work his body, a needy, uncharacteristically high pitched keen escaping him at the scene below. You don't fail to notice the way a ridiculous amount of precum dribbles from his cock onto the soft skin of your stomach the minute he takes in the sight.

“A man who's thought about this every night for the past four yea-”

You pick up pace, causing him to cut himself short with a moan. Smirking, your free hand moves to gather the precum splattered across your abdomen, gathering the salty liquid with your index and pointer, grinning maniacally as he follows your fingers all the way to your mouth with wide, almost devastated eyes. You lick them clean, providing him with an overly dramatic whimper as you swallow, and his whole body tenses.

He snatches your wrists with force, pinning them above your head as he gasps for air and swallows thickly, his lips pursed together and his eyes scrunched shut as he wills himself not to cum, his dick spasming against your belly.

“No.” He says it in the same manner that one would use when correcting a mischievous dog, and now it’s your turn to giggle at him.

“Y/n, I am going to fuck you until you forget I was ever gone. I’m telling you. You've really done it now. Whatever happens next is your own fault.”

The words have you leaking, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“Please?”

“God. Fucking. Dammit.”

He all but tosses you up towards the headboard, rising briefly to shed his boxers before he kneeling between your parted knees, licking his lips hungrily and taking in a shaky breath as he grips to his last string of self control.

“You on birth control? Say yes.” His voice is distant; far away and fucked-out.

You confirm, but barely get the words out before he's flipped you into your stomach, pushing you practically flat against the mattress with his hands on the small of your back, using one of his knees to part your legs as far as they’ll go. It almost hurts, but before you can complain he’s pushing into you, a needy groan escaping his lips as you suck him in inch by inch, panting like he’d just run a marathon.

“Easy, easy, Suguru, please-” You beg, and his thumbs rub apologetic circles into your back.

“Sorry love, I'll be gentle.” He huffs, desperate “You just feel so good. Better than I remember. Tell me when you're ready, yeah? We're about halfway there.”.

Halfway? What the fuck do you mean halfway!?

…Is what you intend to say, but it comes out as a muffled jumbled mess as you do your best to accommodate him. You throw a glance over your shoulder just in time to see him gather a large wad of spit in his mouth and allow it to drain from his lips onto the place where your bodies meet. Your pussy clenches around him as his spit slides down the crack of your ass and flows over his cock, dripping down beneath the two of you onto the bed below.

“Like that, huh? You’re a freak, baby.” His grin is absolutely demonic.

You rock yourself back on him in response, effectively wiping that egotistical look off his face with one buck of your hips. He begins thrusting, shallowly at first, and then quicker, deeper, until he’s pounding into you with force.

Every thrust has you crying out into the mattress, mewling as he slides against your g-spot over and over, pushing down on your spine to angle you just right, and you silently thank god that he knows you so well. His slightly obsessive tendencies were more useful in some areas than others. You remembered the first time he fucked you, his eyes analyzing your body with surgical precision, mentally mapping every sweet spot in academic detail, committing you to memory and since then he seemed to know exactly how to use you to his satisfaction. You knew him well enough to know that nothing got him off quite like knowing he could get you off harder, faster, better than anyone else. Better than yourself, even.

He groans, allowing his head to fall forward until his forehead rests between your shoulder blades, sweat mixing between the two of you as he slows temporarily, rolling his hips rather than thrusting, leveraging his cock inside you and grinding down against your walls, the pleasure rolling over you in one never ending wave instead of repeated splashes.

“Fuck, Suguru-!” You keen, gripping at the sheets for some sort of purchase “Please, please, I wanna watch-”.

You slap at his forearm to signal him to let you move and he does, pulling out of you and watching with a fucked-out gaze as you settle on your back underneath him, moving to lock your legs behind his waist as he settles between your thighs and reaches down to guide himself back in with a hiss.

His thrusts are slow and methodical as he presses his lips to yours, swirling your tongue with his and allowing you to capture the wet muscle between your lips and suck, earning yourself a groan and a change in pace, lust overtaking his determination not to bust. He reaches down with one hand to rub the most delectable circles on your clit, whining and whimpering as you clench around him in response, the pressure in your stomach building at an exponential rate.

“I swear to god, it's like I can't get close enough.” You can't tell if he's blathering to you or himself but he reaches down and grabs the underside of your knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders and fucking into you impossibly deeper until you're certain he's bruising something inside of you. The pain mixing with the pleasure has you teetering on the edge of euphoria, your whole body tensing as tears pool in your eyes and you yelp with every thrust, trying to formulate words even though he's effectively smoothed over every ridge in your brain. All that's left is him and how good his cock feels reshaping your body from the inside out.

“I, I’m-” You attempt to announce your impending orgasm but no words come out, only an illegible mess of jumbled stuttered moans.

His hand slides down between your bodies to toy with your clit again “Please, baby, please cum for me, I can't hold out much longer. Not when you look like that.”.

The sound of him begging for you is the final nail in the coffin, your whole body spasming in an explosion of pleasure as you cum on his cock, damn near screaming his name, curling inward and gripping at his hair with desperation as he only pounds you harder.

“F-fuck, fuck, baby- yes. Holy fuck you're incredible. All mine. You're mine.” He's a blubbering mess above you as he blatantly chases his own high, his breath labored with effort, his eyes wide and drinking in your expression as you fall into the territory of overstimulation from the continual force. Your legs tremble against him, every thrust making you jerk and twitch beneath him.

“S-say it baby, fuck. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Suguru! I’m yours, please-!”

His orgasm hits him so fast it almost shocks him, his whole body stilling as his dick spasms inside you, painting your walls with an obscene amount of cum.

His muscles relax as he rests his forehead against yours, trying desperately to remember how to breathe. You tap at his shoulder and he mumbles an apology, helping you to pull down one leg at a time.

He pulls out and flops down beside you on his back, comfortable silence overtaking the familiar room, nothing but the sound of your breathing slowly evening out echoing off the walls.

You turn your head to look at him and he’s already staring at you, smiling gently.

“Hey.” He whispers cheekily, like an awkward teenager as he reaches over to brush locks of sweat dampened hair away from your forehead.

“Hi.” You respond in the same tone, grabbing his hand and bringing his knuckles to your lips, pressing kisses to each one.

“I think your parents wanted me to come up here and convince you that God was real.” You tell him, and he laughs, bringing his hands up to cover his face in embarrassment. You giggles meld with his, adding “I think I got a little distracted.”

“A little?” He questions through the laughter, and you nod.

“Mhm!”

“I mean, I think I saw him there for a second if that counts for anything-”

“Oh my god, you're so dramatic!” You playfully slap at his bicep and he catches your wrist, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“I love you.” He murmurs, pressing kisses into your hair, inhaling your scent like he couldn't get enough.

“Unconditionally?” You ask.

“Unconditionally.” He confirms.

masterlist

#jjk fanfic #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk suguru #geto x you #geto x y/n

114 notes · View notes

general-cyno · 10 months

Text

y'know, one zolu moment I don't talk about nearly as much as I should but that I love and find super interesting is the bar fight on jaya. and though I know there's mixed opinions on the latter, I also like the contrast between jaya AND whiskey peak.

when it comes to whiskey peak... I'm somewhere in the middle. as a concept I find it interesting too, since it involves zoro doing things on his own for the sake of the crew for the first time (iirc) and luffy being faced with the possibility of zoro not acting as honorably as he believes or trusts zoro to be at that point. thing is, luffy is someone who places great value in the kindness he receives and returns it tenfold. it's something we see throughout the story and in jaya as well actually, with cricket and his crew! this is also what's attracted him to most of the straw hats (if not every) and his allies also. so in theory, I don't think luffy reacting negatively to zoro attacking the ppl who'd been kind to him and the crew for seemingly no reason is entirely out of character, especially after waking up so disorientedly, and at least not that early on in the manga. he emphasizes it too, when he shows up to fight zoro,

the problem for me lies more on the actual execution of it rather than the idea as a whole. kinda goofy for luffy and zoro to drop lines like "now we'll find out who's superior" during it as if they'd had some sort of fighting style rivalry beforehand and it's kinda removed from the og point of the fight but they're dumb kids and the story can take some goofy turns at times so. shrugs.

I can't tell if whiskey peak was originally meant to have an impact or effect on their relationship afterwards (some opinions I've read insist oda was forced to include it) but if anything, it ended up demonstrating zoro and luffy are better off fighting together than against each other, even as they're going on about killing and beating the other up over a misunderstanding. it reminds me of one comment I read on a r/ddit post a while ago (about another topic though) that pointed out how in terms of fighting styles, zoro and luffy kind of complement and make up for each other's weaknesses, which is such a nice detail and layer to their relationship imo.

and assuming there was a genuine point to it all (it's more fun that way heh), I'd say that it really highlights the importance of moments like those in jaya and luffy choosing to trust zoro not to fight back against bellamy's crew.

as luffy has learned this far, zoro would never hurt anyone for no reason and if there's a "reason" it's usually, if not always, rooted in his wish and duty to keep everyone safe (in whiskey peak, the townsfolk were actually baroque works agents, bounty hunters, who had a tendency to trick pirates like them at the start of the grand line). plus, zoro may enjoy battle but he doesn't fight for revenge or feelings/motives of the sort, as he admits later in skypiea. he does, however, react when the people he cares about are in danger (*waves hand and points at anything involving luffy*), hurt (chopper in skypiea as an example, but there's plenty more) or he witnesses great injustice (like yasuie's execution in wano). he's also not the type to enjoy beating up someone weaker, much less for shits and giggles. he will even save enemies if luffy asks him to, as long as it doesn't pose a bigger or immediate (real) threat to the crew.

compare zoro saving smoker in alabasta vs him refusing to accept x drake as an ally at first due to his known status as a traitor in the wano arc, for example.

and of course jaya isn't an exception. when bellamy attacks luffy, zoro responds as usual:

luffy himself stands up ready to fight too, at first. but as nami brings up the sky island and everyone mocks them for it, then bellamy specifically takes it upon himself to ridicule them - insisting on how foolish it is for ppl to "waste time" chasing their dreams, especially pirates, luffy decides not to fight back and tells zoro to do the same.

this is one of those instances in which the "lu" of zolu really shines through, if you ask me. zoro's got a handful of grand gestures toward luffy on his belt, but this is one in which luffy does the heavy lifting for me. this is acknowledgedment and an insane amount of trust, a moment in which luffy's relying on zoro to understand his motives and to push back his usual protectiveness when faced with an enemy displaying a lot of hostility. and zoro gets it, stays true to the trust luffy's placing on him. he doesn't fight back, not even as nami watches and wonders why.

I sound like a broken record at this point, but OP's brought up in several and different circumstances the fact that luffy and zoro are actually pretty similar. they tend to behave the same way or echo each other's words even when they're apart, share similar views on death, on growing stronger for the sake of the ppl they care about, and more so when it comes to chasing and fighting for their dreams.

in the aftermath of the bar encounter, blackbeard tells nami that luffy and zoro actually won that fight. this includes a curious panel in which luffy reminisces both shanks and ace.

it makes sense why luffy shared this particular moment with zoro, when you think about it. those two are dreamers through and through, and if there's characters who can understand the importance of not only chasing those dreams but also keeping a promise, it's them - whose dreams they initially shared with ppl they cherished as kids and made promises to. for luffy there's ace and sabo, and shanks. for zoro it was kuina, then as an adult there was luffy himself. in a lot of ways, the straw hat is to luffy what wado ichimonji is to zoro. during that fight, bellamy represented everything luffy and zoro stand against both as characters and thematically speaking. and that, along with everything luffy's learned/come to know so far about zoro, is what he relied on. it's so good.

later, there's this scene with zoro and the rest, where nami wonders why zoro didn't go with luffy to face bellamy again:

(fun bit here is that zoro actually asked luffy before if he needed his help. it's a small panel but cute! he trusts that luffy can handle himself, as luffy told him he could, and knows there's no stopping him when he's made up his mind lol.)

whether zoro was referring to bellamy's strength or his lack of belief in/mockery of dreams, or both, it's clear he understood why luffy chose to do what he did and asked him to stay put back in the bar, and he could relate to luffy's motives as well. as I mentioned above, it makes sense why zoro in specific would, without luffy voicing them out loud.

the nicest part is how all of these moments are a product of the writing that's gone into luffy and zoro's relationship/dynamic. when luffy chooses to trust zoro with stuff like this, there's a chunk of context that precedes it (like whiskey peak). and when zoro decides to follow him, too, it's because his loyalty for and understanding of luffy has been continually built as the story progresses which is super compelling, and also wonderful to see.

#zolu #tp #long post #here I go again I knew I wouldn't be able to rest if I didn't type out the whiskey peak thing #anyway I hope this is somewhat coherent bc it's like. 1 am #love theeem. this also made me think again of blackbeard #so excited for the straw hats' eventual confrontation with his crew. he's so similar to luffy (and zoro to an extent) but in such #a different end of the spectrum at the same time #kinda insane that he was introduced so early on actually #ok this is less zolu but yeah #jay reads op

153 notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 5 months

Note

Hi! This is very very specific, but…I've had a rough start to my day today, kinda relating to the topic of my request…

So I was wondering, would it be alright to request HCs of Jamil, Ruggie, Leona, Floyd and Rollo with a Reader who runs into an emotionally abusive/manipulative parent they haven't seen in a long time? The kind of subtle abuse that's hard to tell (from the inside, at least) is even abuse at all, and makes you doubt yourself a lot. Kinda narcissistic abuse

Kind of a hurt/comfort thing? Like how they'd deal with the bad parent and the Reader opening up a bit about it. Romantic or platonic, either one is good

Feel more than free to ignore if this kind of request isn't your thing: that's totally fine, I understand it's a bit heavy, not to mention very specific, so please do what makes you feel best. I hope you have a good day!

ahhh of course! I relate to this sort of thing a lot (although I don't use terms like narcissistic abuse since abuse is just abuse to me) and I know exactly what you mean. I love hurt/comfort and you're well within my boundaries since the only thing I wouldn't write pertaining to this topic is intimate partner abuse (like with an s/o). so you're perfectly fine! I enjoyed writing this <3

summary: comforting a reader with an abusive parent type of post: short fics characters: jamil, ruggie, leona, floyd, rollo additional info: reader is not specified to be yuu ("shrimpy" is used as a nickname during floyd's part tho), reader is gender neutral, food mention (ruggie's part), actual interaction w the parent happens during leona and rollo's parts, mentions/descriptions of emotional abuse, although reader is kinda vague about it

Jamil Viper

Jamil knows what it's like to feel stuck.

That's really all he has to know when he recognizes that look on your face.

Perhaps you usually wear your heart on your sleeves, or perhaps you're better at keeping your emotions to yourself, like him, but either way he can tell something is very wrong the second he sees you.

It's a bit strange, isn't it?

Surrounded by people in the cafeteria and yet no one seems to notice the shadow cast over you.

He tries to talk himself out of it for the rest of the day. He has enough on his plate as it is, and it's not his problem. He's Kalim's keeper, not yours.

But that sense of unease doesn't go away.

He drags himself out of bed and somehow finds himself at your door in the dead of night.

And even though it takes you a moment to answer, he can tell you were already awake.

"Here," he says, handing you a warm meal in a container. "I noticed you didn't eat today. We had leftovers."

You don't feel very much like eating, but you accept the gift, anyway. It smells amazing. His cooking always does.

"Thank you," you mumble.

You can't think of anything else to say.

"Are you... well, Kalim sent me to ask if you're feeling unwell," he lies through his teeth.

"I'm fine,"

Another lie, this time of your behalf, which annoys him ever-so-slightly.

"You're clearly not. Are you sick?" the question is vague enough, said in such a way that leaves you with the impression that he wasn't exactly referring to a physical illness.

"I've... had a rough day,"

Jamil is quiet for a moment, thinking to himself. And then: "Do you mind if I come in?"

He's always so careful with his words that such a direct (yet polite) request almost catches you off guard. You step to the side, letting him in your room.

"I don't mean to pry. I know it's not my place," he says, watching you close the door. "But... Kalim is worried. Yes."

You shake your head. "It's fine. I'll get over it,"

It.

What did "it" mean? Surely this couldn't just be a lousy day.

"Did something happen?"

You hesitate.

"Have you ever... ran into someone who made your life miserable? That you thought you moved on from... and it starts to feel like you're stuck in that place all over again?"

Of course. Of course he knows what that feels like.

He has to live through that exact experience every day, without even being able to move on.

But he can't just say that. And this is about you, after all.

"I'm familiar with the feeling. I suppose that's what's ruined your day, then?"

"That's one way to put it," you sigh, sitting at the edge of your bed. "Sometimes it feels like all the progress I've made is just... null. Like I'll never really move on."

He hates how much he's relating to you. How much you're affecting him, now, too.

He follows you to the bed and sits beside you.

"Someday, though, you will. It may feel hopeless now, but... you won't stay stuck forever,"

Unlike me, he thinks.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I can't be. But you don't strike me as someone to give up after hardship,"

Like me.

You're quiet for a moment, seemingly considering what he told you. And then you hug him.

A nice, soft hug. Not abrasive or sudden like the ones Kalim gives. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"Thank you, Jamil,"

He hugs back. "Of course,"

Ruggie Bucchi

It was almost painful, watching you fumble with your wallet like that.

You couldn't seem to get the proper amount out, shaking like a leaf and apologizing profusely. Sam keeps telling you it's okay, but the line forming behind you is starting to grow restless.

Ruggie included.

He has places to be, after all, and he's got two whole crates of energy drinks to lug back to Savanaclaw.

He has half a mind to ask what the holdup is.

And so, he peers over your shoulder, ready to- oh, no. You're crying.

Damn it. Why can't things ever be easy for him?

He can't even chew someone out for taking up all his precious time without being thrown a curveball. And now he feels bad.

Sigh.

"Hey, I got this," he says, setting his heavy crates down on the counter and flashing a card.

Your eyes widen. "Oh, no, Ruggie, you don't have to-"

"Relax, it's Leona's money, not mine," he offers a grin, ignoring the tears trailing down your face. "He won't even notice it's missing."

The line behind you two breathes a collective sigh of relief (much to your embarrassment) and Ruggie shoots them a glare.

"I... I still can't accept this-" you start, before he quickly shushes you.

"Hey, if you wanna make it up to me, you can help me carry these things. I'll call it even,"

You're silent for a moment as Sam finishes ringing you both up, and then you take a crate. As quiet as ever. It's unnerving.

You're walking back to the Hall of Mirrors when Ruggie breaks that silence by bringing up your purchase. "So, what's up with the afternoon snack? Not that I'm judging- I'm jealous. I skipped lunch, shishishi,"

"Oh, it's nothing," you mutter. "Comfort food, I guess."

The concept of comfort food is extremely appealing to him. "Huh. Long day?"

"Something like that... Why'd you skip lunch?"

Trying to change the conversation topic? Clever. But he'll bite, anyway.

"Leona forgot some of his class stuff, so I had 'ta run and get it. Too bad he forgot where he left it... I was all over campus,"

"Did you find it?"

"Eventually. Or else I'd be busy getting my neck wrung instead of 'bein here with you,"

You nod, and the conversation swiftly dies.

After another awkward beat, he clears his throat. "So you... you wanna talk about it, or something?"

"What?"

"You know, your... your day," he mutters, shrugging. He's desperately trying to remember all of the things his grandma did for him when he was upset as a child. "Talking about it might... make 'ya feel better, y'know?"

You're quiet again, and for a moment Ruggie is worried he said something to offend you.

Then, much to his relief, your voice picks up. "I ran into someone today,"

"What? Like someone was giving you trouble?"

"No, not a student. Someone I don't see very much anymore. Um... I guess it just threw me off,"

He tilts his head to the side. "Why?"

"I don't... well, we don't get along very much. Something about them just makes me feel... very... small. Insignificant,"

You don't ask if he understands what you mean, but he does. Not that he'd ever admit that so openly to you at a time like this, but being small and insignificant is basically his job.

And as much as he likes the perks, he can imagine how rough it would be to deal with that and not get to use a bottomless credit card whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He struggles to respond for a moment.

"That's rough,"

Definitely not the sympathetic response he was going for. At least you don't seem to mind.

"I-I mean, sometimes we have to act small to survive. It's a part of life, 'ya know? But that doesn't mean you are small. Just surviving on its own is an accomplishment," he recovers from his earlier blunder, trying to smile. "You should be proud of yourself, if anything."

"That's..." you say. "That's one way of looking at it."

He sighs. "I'm not expressing myself very well, am I? What I'm trying to say is that you're not small or insignificant, and living life feeling like you are is a survival tactic at best,"

The both of you stop in front of Savanaclaw, and he offers another grin.

"And if you ever wanna talk about this stuff... well, I'm around... And you can come inside now, if you want. I could definitely find more stuff to carry!"

Leona Kingscholar

Leona Kingscholar is very, very much enjoying parent weekend alone, thank you.

Of course his folks don't want to attend a school event for their disappointment of a second son. Why would they care? And on Cheka's birthday weekend, no less...

But that didn't bother him. Not at all.

As long as he slept through the weekend without being bothered by any happy-go-lucky nuclear family units, he'd live.

That plan lasts about five hours.

"You'd be better off doing something more useful with your time. Sports, or science, or... something that might help your future. But if you're so sure... I suppose it's better to cut our losses now than put any more faith in you. You just can never decide, can you?"

That voice. Unfamiliar, but drawling, laced with poison. Aggravating enough to stir Leona from his nap in the botanical gardens.

And it's getting closer.

"I just don't understand. Why get accepted into one of the most prestigious schools in the world just to spend your time goofing off?" a long sigh. "But as long as you're happy... we just want what's best for you."

Leona grumbles, turning over and trying to drift back to sleep.

"I'm trying,"

This voice is different. No- he recognizes it. It's yours.

"Are you? You know I know what's best for you, right?"

Sevens. This is your parent speaking to you? No wonder you've been acting all jittery lately.

He sits up, giving up on his nap, and continues listening in.

"I know," you say. "I really am trying, though."

"Did I say you weren't? Don't speak for me,"

This is getting ugly. Leona stands, stepping out of the shrubbery and clearing his throat behind the two of you.

You're the first to turn. "Oh- Leona! Sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you,"

"You're fine," he snaps, sharp eyes turning to your parent beside you. "Who's this, then?"

"This is-"

"Their parent," they go ahead and introduce themselves, cutting you off as if you weren't speaking at all. Like you're a piece of furniture hanging in the background. He's not a fan.

"Really? From the way you were talking, I would have guessed that you were their coach. Or boss,"

Your eyes dart between the two. "Leona-"

"You're fine," he reaffirms. "I was just looking for you, anyway. We really have to talk."

You pause, raising an eyebrow. He? Wants to talk to you? Now?

"Is it important?" your parent asks. The question is directed at you, although he answers.

"Very. I was just coming to ask you, very politely, I might add, to reconsider my offer,"

"Your... offer...?"

Your parent looks down at you. "What's he talking about?"

"Can't blame you for forgetting. I'm sure you're busy with all your... school... things. But I do have to ask you to rejoin the spelldrive club. We're in shambles without you,"

He gives you a certain look, one that clearly reads "Go along with it."

Leona Kingscholar offering an olive branch to someone is a rare occurrence. So you take it.

"Oh! Right, I have been busy with school. I've been meaning to get back to you..."

Your parent looks between the two of you with just the faintest hint of confusion, and then frustration. "You've been playing spelldrive? When was I going to hear about this?"

"They haven't been playing with us," Leona says, a small smirk already forming. "They're the team manager. They're way too smart to be out on the field- no, they're running the team, they're organizing everything, their strategy is like nothing we've ever seen. If only they were in Savanaclaw, we might have a chance at winning one of these years."

"Uhhh..." you start, looking between your parent and the oddly friendly and receptive clone that's replaced Leona. "...Yeah, right."

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we really have to discuss official club matters," he says, shooing away your parent until they eventually give in and leave.

As soon as they're out the door, you turn to him. "What w-"

"Are you alright?" he asks.

Stunned would be an understatement. "I'm fine,"

"Really? Cause you're looking at me like a gazelle caught in headlights,"

"I-I guess it's just been hard... having them here,"

Leona nods, closing his eyes as he thinks to himself. Then, he sighs.

"Yeah. I get that. Come on, then,"

You raise an eyebrow as he starts off in the opposite direction. "What? Where are we going?"

"Somewhere quiet and warm to nap. Being around that person sucked all the energy right out of me, I can't imagine how exhausted you feel,"

He turns to look over his shoulder with a smile. "With any luck, we'll avoid them for the rest of the weekend,"

Floyd Leech

Of course, he can tell something's up right away.

Well... maybe it takes him a little while to tune into the conversation, but once he does, he notices you've been... awfully quiet throughout it.

His favorite little shrimpy? All sad? Moping around like a kicked puppy?

Now this catches his attention.

"Bored?" he asks. It's his first guess.

"Hm?" you ask, looking back at him. "No, I'm fine."

"But you're not,"

"Okay, I'm a little distracted,"

Now that, he can understand. But there's still something very off about the whole thing that he can't quite put his finger on.

"You're not telling me something," he states, matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

You raise an eyebrow. "...And?"

"And I wanna know. I'm not letting you leave until you tell me,"

Your thought process is probably ranging somewhere between "oh, no," and "oh NO," by now.

"I sweaaar, it's nothing," you insist. "I just had a bad day, okay?"

"Why?"

There's no turning back now. He's invested, and until he loses interest, you're stuck here.

"It was... just... long. Can I go now? I have things to do,"

He frowns, and stands, and then puts you in a headlock. "Alright, where're we 'goin?"

"FLOYD!"

He drags you along with him, remembering not to be too rough as he takes you from place to place on his dailies. You begrudgingly learn to accept it.

When you walk back into the Mostro Lounge, Azul and Jade don't even bat an eye.

"You're thirty minutes late- ah, why do I bother?" Azul says, rifling through a stack of papers on his desk. He only looks up when he catches a glimpse of you. "Oh. Hello, there."

You wave half-heartedly. "Can I get some help?"

"Floyd. What is the meaning of this?" he asks.

Floyd pouts. "There's 'somethin wrong with them and they won't tell me what,"

"Are they ill?"

You lower your eyes at the two as they speak like you're not even there. "Hello?"

"Nah, they feel fine. They're all mopey, though,"

Azul hums to himself, lost in thought. And then: "Well, figure out what it is, and get to work, if you please,"

"Azul!" you shout. He ignores you.

Floyd drags you back outside the office and sits down with you at one of the tables, waving to concerned lounge-goers as they pass by.

"Now will you tell me?"

"Geez, alright, alright. I give up, you win," you sigh. "I... well, my parent was here earlier. At school. And we talked, and they... said some not-very-nice things to me. That's why I've been upset, okay?"

Floyd's smile immediately drops. "I win? But that's not a very good prize,"

"Tell me about it,"

"Why would anyone be mean to you, anyway? You're the best shrimpy I know!"

You avert your eyes. "It wasn't... mean... per se. Just... not nice,"

"Sounds mean to me," he mutters. "I don't get it."

"Well, sometimes these things just... don't make sense. It's my fault, anyway," you sigh.

His gaze sharpens at that. "'An who told you that? You didn't do anything! I'm starting to really dislike this parent of yours,"

His sudden mood swing doesn't phase you, but it does lift your spirits... just the tiniest bit. Even if you wouldn't admit that to yourself. "Hey, it's fine. I'm over it,"

"You sure you don't want me to squeeze 'em?"

"Heh. No, that's okay. I would like you to let me go, though,"

His eyes widen at the sudden realization he still has you in a headlock and he quickly releases you.

You sit up, stretching and rubbing the back of your neck. "Thanks,"

"My arm was starting to hurt, anyway..." he thinks for a moment, looking back to the office door. "Ya think I can use that to get out of working? I wanna spend more quality time with my favorite shrimpy. You could use it!"

You look to the door and shrug. "Hey, worth a try, right?"

Rollo Flamme

Out of all the things to ruin the day, of course it had to be your parent.

The disappointment between the two of you was palpable. And even though it was only a brief encounter, it was enough to sour the rest of the afternoon for the both of you.

The first thing Rollo noticed, of course, was the manner in which they carried themselves. As an authoritative, important figure, puffing out their chest and towering over you. What gave them the right...?

They were not a leader, nor a public figure, nor anyone of interest, if your earlier mentions of them gave him any idea. Nothing but an adult who spoke to the both of you as if you were tiny children.

He loathed being talked down to.

Perhaps he should have said something sooner than he did, and perhaps he should have said something more than the interruption he used to excuse you from the conversation.

And now you're just quiet.

"Are you well?" he asks, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

You shrug.

"I apologize for not speaking on your behalf sooner. I did not want to be rude,"

No response at all.

Your silence was driving him mad. He couldn't get a good read on what you were feeling when you kept looking away like that.

"If you'd like to return home early, I would understand and escort you promptly,"

"No,"

A response. Not a good one, but a response nonetheless.

"May I ask you a question?" though he doesn't really wait for your permission to go on. "Why do they speak to you like that?"

That comment seems to jolt you, and you turn to look at him with wide eyes. "What? Speak to me like what?"

He struggles for the right words.

How could he describe it? It was so... odd. The words they spoke to you didn't sound cruel, but there was something sinister lurking beneath them. And not even in the typical "polite for the sake of it" sense.

Each response they gave was laced with a sort of venom that seemed to sting you. You had grown quiet, distant, as if you weren't really there at all.

Of course he was familiar with such tactics. He could weave his own words with ease. But you had done nothing wrong- you were guiltless. Why were you being punished?

He couldn't quite come up with an answer.

"You seemed uncomfortable," he finally says, looking away again. "I apologize for such an experience happening to you under my watch."

"It's not your fault,"

"It certainly isn't. And it's not yours, either,"

A blanket of silence falls over the two of you until he speaks again.

"You have nothing to feel bad about," he reaffirms.

Another pause.

"And I don't mean to intrude. But if you ever need my assistance, you know where to find me,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #floyd leech x reader #rollo flamme x reader #can't believe this is the first time I've written for rollo on this blog... bby I've missed u

564 notes · View notes