#not mentioned but this applies to them ig

[moreespressoformydepresso]

So this will be tough to answer considering that carlos's actor is sadly no longer with us and let his memories live on

I was wondering if you ever had to do a story of carlos last few days with jane and his friends how would you do it

Like I love how they payed tribute to him in the royal wedding but I was surprised we never really got to see Jane sadness or her missing carlos

I guess it depends? Whether he saw his death coming or whether it’s as unexpected as the news of Cameron’s death was. If we go with the former, I’d put more focus on how everyone tries to cope with knowing someone is about to die. Specifically the underlying denial of everyone involved. Mostly I’d focus on Carlos trying to make the most of his last days and spending as much time with his loved ones as possible, tying up loose ends and crossing as many things off his bucket list as possible until his time runs out. Then there’s everyone around him coping, The denial, the pain of the truth constantly being thrown in your face, the powerlessness and the constant wondering what you could have done to prevent this. The trying to get everything out of the last few days because you don’t wanna live with the regrets of wasting time. Your deepest fear being that you’ll spend the rest of your life knowing you could have done more, and now it’s too late.

Then, finally, when it’s all over, I’d probably write about the inevitable ending to the story. Those who are left to pick up the pieces trying to stop that constant, niggling voice in the back of their head telling them it wasn’t enough. They weren’t enough. They could have done this that or the other and things might be different. They could’ve stopped it or at least slowed it down. The slow process of realizing that no amount of blaming yourself, justifiably or not, will change the past. It’s done. Carlos is gone. It’s too late to do anything about it now and all anyone can do is learn to live with it.

If it’s unexpected, I’d probably focus entirely on his friends and family. Specifically the different ways people try to cope with grief. The different stages of coming to terms with the fact that Carlos is gone and what forms they take in different people. The extremely emotional and the complete shutdown, the constantly doing something just to avoid thinking about it and the inability to do anything at all. The bottling everything up and the learning to let go. Grief is a slow process and it never really ends. It doesn’t leave, it just dulls to background noise. No matter how far you get, there will always be some kind of pain attached to the memories.

This was honestly hard to write. Apologies but I’m about to hardcore overshare so skip if you don’t wanna read it. I’ve written exactly one published story dealing with grief (fanfic for The Ballad Of Songbirds And Snakes) and that’s for a reason. When I was grieving, I was also dealing with a severe depressive episode, so I had a complete shutdown. I didn’t feel anything. Nothing about the situation felt real to me. But I saw the reactions of people around me and both of the situations I described above are ones I’ve experienced.

Two times, I watched a grandparent slowly die of illness. Years were spent seeing their health slowly deteriorate and trying to come to grips with that reality. It didn’t make the end easier when it came. All it did was shatter the illusion that maybe some miracle would save them and they’d pull through. One of these times happened right after an unexpected death. Everyone thought she’d live longer, and then she was gone. One week of thinking she’d be okay, and then it was over. It happened so fast I didn’t even have time to comprehend what was happening. None of these situations were easier, they were just different. It’s the sudden impact of a train against your heart vs the creeping cold spreading through you with every day you watch someone’s condition get worse. It’s watching someone battle against an illness until they’re so drained they give up the fight vs watching someone slowly lose touch with reality until they don’t even know what’s real and what’s in their head vs not even being able to watch anything at all because they’re already gone and you didn’t even get to say goodbye.

It’s never easy. And maybe the worst part is that you’ll never know if you had a hand in this or not, nor will you ever find complete closure. There will always be something, some regret or “what if”, and it’s inescapable.

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

[silverware-is-interesting]

That playlist I mentioned I was working on one singular time

idk if i'd say it's done but hey. why not share it?

ignore my username i just didn't know what to put since in made the acc pre-silver era and i don't feel like changing it :/

and some other random doodles under the cut bcs there are quite a few

and some more: ms paint edition.

[byanyan]

been thinking about this for a bit, but byan? doesn't tell any of the (small handful of) people they're close to about the development of their relationship with sol for a while. there's no "i have a boyfriend" announcement, not even a hint that anything's changed. instead they're out here acting like things are the same as always, even though they're suddenly climbing in through that window or coming around to harass you a little less often. part of it is that they don't... really know how to address it? but mostly they don't want to deal with, like. all the emotion of it. they're still in a place where they like to act as though they're above emotion, and it feels like a weak point to admit that they've developed romantic feelings for someone. plus, they've never really known how to deal with someone being happy for them? and then there's also the fact that they know there'll be questions, which they don't know how or don't want to have to answer...

meanwhile they're out here acting pretty sus when it's mentioned that they've seemed busy or distracted lately. like they'll literally try to just shrug it off without explaining what they've been up to or why they've been showing up less. the very most you'll get out of them for the first month or so is that they've been "hanging out with a friend," but even that takes a lot of pressing.

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

my maths teacher is essentially making us all do the work for his class digitally and the laptop-tablet thingy i lent from the school is never doing what i want it to and it's incredibly frustrating and the only reason i somewhat tolerate it is that he's the same teacher i could talk to about not using gendered pronouns for me whenever possible in school papers and the like and he also remembered that and made a conscious effort in front of the entire class to reword what he was saying to refer to me gender-neutrally. which really is a feat in my native language, so like, i love him for making the effort and remembering. but also why digitally

[voidimp]

trying to find any information on anything is so fucking impossible these days

[tismrot]

HOW FATAL IS YOUR GOOD OMENS BRAINROT ? a checklist

Give yourself a point for everything that applies to you.

LEVEL 1 [ ] I have seen both seasons.

[ ] I can name at least one character that isn’t Aziraphale or Crowley.

[ ] I know that Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman wrote the book. Points: [ ] of 3

---

LEVEL 2 [ ] I have seen both seasons more than once.

[ ] I know I can write “Aziraphale” without spelling it wrong. Bonus point if you have actually written the name anywhere, for any reason.

[ ] I have had a conversation about Good Omens with a person outside of the internet in the last 3 months. Points: [ ] of 3 + [ ] bonus points --- LEVEL 3 [ ] I experienced any negative feeling beyond "ouch, that sucks for them!" after the ending of season 2.

[ ] I have looked up anything related to Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett, Michael Sheen or David Tennant in the last 3 months.

[ ] I know what #payyourwriters refers to.

[ ] I have had at least one (1) thought about Crowley or Aziraphale (or both). Bonus point if you told anyone (Tumblr counts).

[ ] I read the book before the show came out. Points: [ ] of 5 + [ ] bonus points ---

LEVEL 4 [ ] I have seen both seasons more than three times and some scenes more than that.

[ ] Somebody watched Good Omens because of me. One extra point for each additional person!

[ ] I catch myself thinking about Good Omens when I should be thinking about other things.

[ ] I have listened to Queen more than I usually do during the last 3 months.

[ ] I have read or listened to the book (don’t have to have read/heard all of it for 1 point) after season 1. Points: [ ] of 5 + [ ] bonus points ---

LEVEL 5 [ ] I have analyzed the lyrics of most of the songs and experienced moving emotions.

[ ] I have either made a new account or revived an unused account somewhere ONLY to browse Good Omens related media. One bonus point for each additional new/renewed account. (Renewed = you haven't touched it in at least 2 years)

[ ] I have watched at least 5 videos on YouTube about Good Omens.

[ ] I no longer blush while reading fics.

[ ] I have a stash of saved images on my phone/IG account/Pinterest/other I would very much not like anyone to see.

[ ] I have made any game character look like characters from the show. Three bonus points if you googled 'south downs cottages' while playing The Sims. Points: [ ] of 6 + [ ] bonus points ---

LEVEL 6 [ ] I have genuine, tangible heartbreak due to Good Omens, and I have experienced heartbreak before - so I know what it feels like. (Friend/platonic/aro heartbreaks count, ofc.)

[ ] I have shared my support for the strikers multiple times.

[ ] I know more than I’d like to know about the anatomy of male snakes.

[ ] I have published Good Omens related media - fics, artwork, big metas (spent more than three hours researching/writing it), music, videos. Bonus point if this happened on a recently created or renewed account.

[ ] I have had dreams about something Good Omens-related. If this was a spicy dream, collect 3 extra points.

[ ] Things that shouldn’t remind me of the show, reminds me of the show. (Flies, clocks, ducks, classical music, drinking coffee, anything related to England, biblical references, etc.)

[ ] I have a set of beliefs and theories that I stick to - example: coffee theory, body swap theory, Crowley is Raphael, etc. Bonus point if any of these are genuinely from your own head.

[ ] I have a favorite Crowley (Bildaddy?).

[ ] I have listened to other people’s Good Omens themed playlists/music on YouTube or Spotify. Points: [ ] of 9 points + [ ] bonus points ---

LEVEL 7 [ ] I have experienced a spike in learning/skill after watching the show. (Read Shakespeare, history, philosophy, books mentioned, shown or referenced l, learned or improved a craft and any other neuron connection boosting activity).

[ ] I have experienced an increase in my preferred destructive coping mechanism after watching the show, but I’d rather have it this way than not having watched it.

[ ] I have been sad that I am not an immortal, celestial being fighting for the opportunity to finally be with my soulmate and lover, another immortal, celestial being forced to work for a rival oppressive government, after 6000 years of queer yearning and forbidden desire. I have been sad that I - due to human life expectancy, at the very least - can NOT experience such love. Ever.

[ ] Good Omens has affected my sexuality (kinks, roleplay, thoughts, type of desired partner, etc.)

[ ] I know what the archangel Michael’s ring looks like, and what it’s modeled after.

[ ] I have made my own playlist with music reminding me of Good Omens.

[ ] I have had trouble sleeping because I thought about my fic narrative (even if I haven’t started writing it yet), unfinished drawing, video idea or similar.

[ ] I can, with worrying accuracy, correctly guess the episode when watching a scene from the show.

[ ] I read an insane amount of layered theories and possible references and so on, into every word said by Aziraphale and Crowley, to the point where watching is difficult because I get so many fan theories in my head I have to write down.

[ ] I want to travel to London. Bonus point if you already have been to London pre-brainrot and hated it. If you live in London, you get a point if Good Omens made you visit Soho even though you know it wasn’t filmed there. If you live in Soho, you get a point if you've been to the South Downs because of Good Omens.

[ ] I have thought of or prepared a Good Omens costume for Halloween. Bonus point if you have already found a reason to wear it. Bonus point if you wear it casually. Bonus point if the costume is inconspicuous enough that you can go to work/school without it being too weird. Bonus point if, when wearing your costume, you sat on a bench on purpose. Points: [ ] of 11 + [ ] bonus points --- INSANE LEVEL [ ] I have been a fan of the book since 1990. [ ] I read queerness into the book independently (be honest). [ ] I have made money creating Good Omens-anything. [ ] I have met and/or talked to Neil Gaiman/Terry Pratchett(RIP)/the actors outside of social media (mail and cons count, Tumblr does not) specifically about the book or later, the show. [ ] I have hosted a Good Omens themed event (wedding, birthday party, con, baby shower, etc). One point for each event.

[ ] The amount of text I’ve written (fics, metas, song lyrics, poems, whatever) is equal to or greater than the amount of text in the book. Points: [ ] of 6 + [ ] bonus points --- GOD'S FAVORITE-LEVEL [ ] Michael Sheen retweeted you or referenced something of yours in any way. This one is worth 25 lazerii, which is more than all the other points combined. You only need this one checked to have 100% fatal Good Omens brainrot. --- Total points: [ ] of 48 + [ ] bonus points = [ ] points SCORE 1 - 3 points: Why did you take this test? Go do something better with your life, you don't belong here. Enjoy your freedom, the lightness in your heart and the fresh breeze upon your unbothered, youthful face. 3 - 6 points: I bet you still know how to feel happiness. It's still time, you can turn this around. I suggest you just leave this now, and come back whenever you see an ad for season 3. Let yourself be happy in the meantime. 6 - 16 points: You've ventured into dangerous territory, but none of your loved ones have realized you have a problem yet. And you might not... The lines are blurred here. You can still come off as an adjusted person when you talk about the show or anything related to it. 16 - 23 points: A scan of your brain reveals that almost 20% of your prefrontal cortex has rotted away. Friends and family have a negative kneejerk reaction to any mention of Good Omens related subjects. You spend most of your free time on your phone, browsing Good Omens media. The only possible cure at this point, would be a new hyperfixation. 23 - 36 points: 33 % of your total brain volume has been affected. The rot has infected almost every area, and trying to introduce any unrelated hyperfixation causes anxiety, confusion and depression. Doctors are baffled to discover that there is a fungi growing from the rot - it seems to connect with your brain, allowing for an extreme learning curve should you hyperfixate on any subject in any way related to Good Omens. If you ever wanted to read up on Shakespeare, this would be the time to do that. 36 - 48 points: 89% of your brain is affected by rot and mostly replaced by fungi - the only uninfected areas are the reptilian brain (the words 'reptilian brain' reminded you of Crowley) and the medulla, which means it hasn't affected your breathing and your instinctive reactions. You still flinch when cars almost hit you, as you wander aimlessly roadside - lost in thoughts about Good Omens. 48 - ?? points: I'm here if you need to talk. No therapist will understand this without labeling it as a severe breach with reality. (I mean, excuse me - the show is right there on Amazon Prime, it’s real.) The medical field is far behind, years and years will go by before they recognize your diagnosis; 100% fatal Good Omens brainrot. It controls your breathing, your heart rate - everything. This condition is fatal because it lasts until you die, and then you'll have a Good Omens themed funeral. 25 lazerii: How does it feel to be loved by God?

[bakugoushotwife]

born sinner (part three; finale)

pairing: crime boss!suguru geto x fem!surgeon!reader series content: blood, gore, realistic descriptions of surgery but like as accurate as someone with access to google has, angst, slow-burn, smut, anxiety as a heavy theme, no curses!au, violence, guns, gang mentions and typical violence, religious imagery, etc. chapter content: smut!! oral and fingering (fem receiving), penetrative sex, doggy into some kinda reverse cowgirl almost you'll see ig, he spits on your pussy, he lightly slaps your thigh and ass once, rough sex, hair pulling, good aftercare. all other series warnings apply. wc: 9.5k a/n: here it is!! the last installment of crime boss! geto just in time for his birthday!! well, chapter length anyway. feel free to send in requests of slice of life for this series any time, and enjoy the conclusion :3 and just one last thank you to @antizenin for thinking up this concept, please go follow them and give em some love :)) part one // part two

bright lights never bothered you before–not like this. in the middle of those old nights when you got the call to come in, you welcomed the fluorescents to wake you up before you performed yet another life-saving surgery and went to sleep in an on-call room for a few hours before you had to do it all over again. once upon a time, you were addicted to these moments, living and breathing for the riveting rush that only surgery could give you. but now, in the void of sound that is your personal hospital, you know it won’t be ambulance sirens that starts your adrenaline. you know it will be victims, one of them likely suguru—and you feel like you might be sick in the middle of the floor and the lights will only serve to highlight how out of your league you are. 

you hear the low rumble of voices, the hisses of pain and groans of confusion coming from the hallway linking your sector to suguru’s house. it sounds bad–multiple different voices complaining about their injuries. you take a steadying breath, perhaps it was just a street fight—just a few stitches and busted knuckles to ice. knowing suguru, he was trying to work you up for no reason. 

the door busts open and your eyes widen, hopes crushed quickly. there’s blood puddling in the floor, red footprints tracking their way to the door. satoru is being dragged forward by suguru and choso, head rolling between his shoulders. he’s riddled with bullets, and he’s not the only one. the dark-haired driver seems to have a couple of bullet wounds himself and there’s a few more of suguru’s yakuza that have suffered the same fate. your heart pounds so loud that you can hear the blood rushing in your veins, and it’s not adrenaline that you feel in your veins: it’s white-hot dread. fear. panic. your body moves despite yourself. 

only when satoru is positioned on a gurney are you able to analyze suguru—his shirt soaked with blood you can’t determine is his own or not. his shirt is ripped, face cut, blood dripping off his fingertips to contribute to the great vibrant red staining the floor. he’s injured, and you’re panicking–and these people could die, and who do you even start with?? you turn towards suguru, inclined to make sure he’s alright. your hands shake, you move towards him in slow, unsure steps, and he grabs one of your shaky palms—stopping you from tending to him. 

you know he can see right through you, knows that you’re bound to lock up in fear, yet he looks at you with a gentle grin—despite it all, forgetting the fact that he’s in pain and his men are grievously hurt. his thumb rakes over the back of your hand, nevermind the blood that streaks across your skin as he does so—his blood, decidedly. you can’t stop staring. at the blood on his hands–your hand, at the mass of injured people waiting for you to fix them—on the crimson puddles leading straight for you.

“hey—look at me,” his voice is stern, with a sense of understanding softness to it. it’s commanding, and your eyes stop surveying the injured and snap back to his face, his lip busted and a cut that definitely needs stitches. “you’re the best money can buy, that’s why you’re mine. just…block it out. breathe, one at a time. it’s a tall task, i know what i’m asking of you. work on satoru first, and trust yourself. we all panic, so show me why you were on the cover of academic magazines, ebi. i’ll tell you everything that happened while you work.” he offers, and you know that it must be an attempt to busy your mind—so you jump at the reprieve. he watches you slip into a different part of yourself, your brow furrowing—mind steeling as he commanded. you nod, gesturing for him to talk as your turn for satoru, popping the buttons on his shirt and cussing at the damage. 

“hey boss-man, we got him!” satoru beams, dropping a manilla file on suguru’s dark cherry desk. suguru cuts his eyes over to him, rather bored looking with his elbow propped on the table and his head leaned against his hand. he’s hesitant to perk up at satoru’s words, not wanting to get his hopes up for a lead on toji without good reason. the first trails had gone cold before he had really even had the chance to look into them; all second-hand accounts of a guy that knows a guy that had absolutely nothing to contribute other than wasting their time. “go on, open it!” 

satoru sounds so perky suguru is inclined to follow his orders for once. gojo wouldn’t look so excited if this wasn’t something good. so he pops the tab and reaches in, sliding a bundle of papers out. some are print-outs of surveillance cameras—toji’s unmistakable presence captured with sukuna—his men had gotten a hold of something concrete finally. included with those were text messages, meeting arrangements for the one who stabbed him in the back—no, shot him in the chest. they were getting a delivery tonight. this is what nanami risked his life for, and suguru was intent on making it worth it. 

“we’ll move tonight then. we have a delivery of our own to make.” he claps the file against satoru’s chest, a nonchalant smile closing his eyes as he gets to his feet. revenge. it was so near. he needed to make arrangements for this quickly, there was only a few hours to go before the meeting would go down and he needed to decide who would station where and how many weapons and cases of ammo they would need.

he thinks about you as he walks to his armory. he had practically tucked you in and promised to make up for his temperament later in the week. he sighed aloud, the heels of his boots clicking down his marble walkway. the walls were barren outside of the tapestry that hung along one of them. it’s a long hallway with a hidden door to the left side of it. it leads to his armory—walls decorated with guns, flash grenades, smoke bombs and more. he just needed to make sure that this went well, as minimal casualties as possible so you could sleep through the night undisturbed. he can seek his revenge and keep you out of it. so he can keep his promise to you. 

so he starts pulling guns off their mounts and calling his best men to get the cars ready. 

a few hours later, suguru and his top seven guys stood at the back entrance of ryomen sukuna’s estate, holding their delivery driver hostage as they wait on toji to surface for it. it was just a crate of weapons, but enough of a hassle for someone high on the food chain to come for it. apparently being a rat helps you climb the ranks. he doesn’t come out alone—several men flanking him as he takes a look around. 

he’s smirking, like he knew that something was lurking in the shadows without even having to look too hard. he folds his arms and scratches his head with the barrel of his gun, whistling. “i can smell ya, mangy little kid. what, you wanna talk about my betrayal?” he rolls his eyes. suguru steps forward, but so do satoru, choso, kusakabe, hakari, yuuta, todo, and inumaki—all of his top performers, minus the injured nanami.  

“no, no. you’ve taught me that there comes a time where the talking must cease. i just want your ashes in an urn for my office.” he hums, hands in his pockets. the tension runs high, suguru’s feline smirk making everyone on the opposing side antsy. he takes a step forward, and one of toji’s men preemptively shoots—triggering the chain of events. 

that’s where things get fuzzy. he remembers ducking behind the car and peaking around to get a few shots off. suguru couldn’t care less about the extra men—sukuna’s men–that was a battle for another time. he just wants toji. he wants to show him the monster he’s created. suguru doesn’t thrive on negativity—feels like it’s a curse, even, but he will not tolerate disrespect and betrayal. he will not give toji the chance to plan another attack. not now, when he has so much to lose. 

and when satoru’s body falls down beside him, all he can think about is the injuries he sustained, the ones that nanami endured—all of the wounds his other men would get tonight; the nearly lethal suffering he weathered–you, who would have to repair all that was broken tonight despite his oath to you. he rolls the opposite way than he had been peaking, coming around and letting his gun do any talking. he takes down two of the regular guards, opening up his shot on toji. suguru nearly laughs; it’s so easy. he expected to mourn a little, to hesitate. to feel his morality tug at him or even hear that angelic voice he’s long concluded to be yours telling him to stop. 

but his brain is clear, heart at peace. he can feel the cool wind whispering against his cheek, advocating for justice. seeing the carnage makes things so clear, his best friend bleeding out at his feet. he wonders briefly if you felt this calm when you stumbled over him all those nights ago. he pulls the trigger, there’s a loud bang! and slight jump of the barrel, smoke wafting into the night air—then the loud crumpling sound of toji’s body hitting the ground. 

and then there is silence. 

you’re pulling bullets out of satoru’s arm and side while suguru recounts the events to you, mind operating on nothing but your knowledgeable instinct. you thought he may be distracting like he was when you operated earlier in the day, but his voice is surprisingly even and soft and drowns out any grunts of pain from the others you hadn’t yet seen. satoru was easily the worst of them—but you moved efficiently to patch him up, gleeful that none of the bullets had hit major arteries and that he would be fine in a few weeks. 

you administer morphine to everyone, thankful beyond belief that all your x-rays and ct scans proved that everyone in this rival gang were horrible shooters; all your patients would make it without any real surgery required. just a lot of pain medicine and stitches—and you would consider that a good day. should any of them have needed to be opened up, you would have had to pick and prioritize them, or have suguru do it for you. no, you’re very thankful for a mess of gauze and blood on the floor, happy to hang bags of fluids and let them talk over their victory with each other. 

once his men were patched up, suguru finally let you tend to him. he unfastens the buttons on his shirt for you, “this one’s expensive. i don’t want you ruining it.” he jokes, seemingly content despite the situation and how grave it really could have been. you wonder if taking care of his enemy is the sole reason why. 

“ha, ha. i’m here to save lives, not designer shirts.” you raise a brow to chastise almost, but the grin playing on your lips betrays you. though it quickly drops when you see he’s been shot three times. he seemed to omit the part where those two men he shot, shot back. 

you suck in a breath of air and look up at him, the wounds on his chest that were nearly healed looked red and angry—due to the fact his body was already weakened from them and had just acquired three more. two of them had clear exit wounds in his abdomen and just required your cleaning and dressing of them. the one closest to his heart was a shallow wound, the bullet lodged just beneath his skin. you can’t help but feel fear. what if one of these bullets caused your grafts to rupture? what if–even if he doesn’t think it’s fatal, it is? so you insist on an echo and a ct after you’ve pulled the last bullet fragment from his olive-tinted scarred skin. 

“you need tests. i need to make sure your heart still looks good—you really need to take it easy, suguru. you’re not invincible.” you say as you place the electrodes on his skin. his deep laceration was perfectly stitched so it may not even leave a scar–and you know he can’t grin at you the way he wants due to how tight the threads pull at his cheek. 

“i’m a yakuza boss, little isha. i can’t exactly take it easy.” he leans back on his arms to allow you closer to his chest–the broad expanse of toned muscle and rough terrain. your slender fingers press the stickers in the places only you would know to put them, watching the machine read his heart beat while you take his blood pressure. you take a breath of relief when the numbers look perfect. 

“come on, one ct scan just to help me sleep tonight.” you raise your brow expectantly and pull the probes from his chest, feeling his ochre eyes stare into your face as you work. 

“of course. anything for you.” he purrs, sliding off the gurney and following you to the adjacent room to do the scans for your anxious mind. 

“anything, hm? you said toji shot you. is that what happened when i found you?” you ask, guiding him to lay down for the machine. 

“you’re relentless, ebi. and you tell me i don’t know when to quit.” he chuckles, earning him a glare from you as you try to run the scan. you’re quiet while it’s running, eyeing the results as they populate on your desktop. 

“you said you’d tell me everything and thennnnn you said you’d do anything for me. one simple request. i just want to know what you went through that night.” you hum so sweetly he knows he won’t be able to deny you any longer. 

“yes, fine, brat.” he shakes his head, sitting up on the hospital bed to face you. despite his seeming annoyance, his lips are turned up in a grin. he looks over your face, adorned with the excitement that he has finally given in to you no doubt. you lean forward, hip bumping against the side of his metal gurney. 

“that night, i was betrayed. my mentor–toji fushiguro. he was like a father to me, and satoru. he taught me the ropes of being a yakuza boss. most of everything i know came from him. i was meant to meet with the head of our rivals, toji organized the entire thing,” he reflects on this with so much pain in his eyes—you understand why he had brushed off the retelling for as long as he could. it’s clear he didn’t want to think about it. but maybe since the saga is over, he feels free enough to indulge you in it. “on our way there, sukuna’s men flipped my car. i crawled out of the wreckage and toji…shot me in the chest to finish the job.” he looks down at his marred flesh, littered in the scars from that day. 

“how did you make it to that alley?” you ask, hanging on his every word. he was incredibly resourceful and resilient—and that can’t be entirely taught.  

“dragged myself. there were patrons in that bar that owed me. if i could have made it inside, i knew someone would have gotten a hold of satoru, at least. i left him home because he’s a loud mouth and would ruin the meeting—but it was a mistake. satoru knew. he smelled toji’s betrayal, and i dismissed it. my bad judgment nearly cost me my life.” he focuses on a crack in the tile flooring next to your feet. you notice the brokenness that flickers in his eyes as he stares at that point on the ground–a proverbial crack in the foundation. you interrupt those drowning thoughts of his own self-criticism by putting your hand on his shoulder, you remember your own cracks and how they’ve been mended since. 

“it seems like you have pretty good judgment. no one can be right one hundred percent of the time. i had to learn that early on, even with the science and miracles of surgery. everything seems under control, don’t underestimate yourself. you have it all put together.” you encourage, thumbing over the edge of his collarbone. his skin is so warm and tan despite how often you see him inside. he looks at you as if he’s surprised by your touch, but makes no move to evade it. after a moment of staring, he chuckles, and you look away—though you can feel his eyes trained on you like always. 

“no, isha. i may look orchestrated, but i’m falling apart.” he sighs out, a hint of that pain darkening the golden brown autumn eyes he looks at you with. you can’t repress the intrusive instinct to trace the thick scar left by toji’s betrayal—by your skilled sutures. you shake your head at his words.

“when i found you, you were falling apart. now you’re putting it back together. it’s a process.” you say, voice falling to a whisper as you realize just how close you are to him. you’re standing between his legs, your knees buckling slightly as his rest against your thighs. you have to conjure every ounce of your courage to lift your gaze to his notorious bedroom stare, ochre pools sending a tingle down your spine. you bite your bottom lip and his vulturous gaze flickers down to watch the way your white teeth dug into the plush color of your lip, the flesh swelling a bit from the pressure. he puts his hand on your hip, so gentle by manner of touch but so rough by feeling. his fingers are long enough to rest atop the supple fat of your ass, and you can feel electricity thicken in the room like the moments before a loud thunderstorm. you don’t know who leaned in first, but your lips meet—and lightning strikes. you feel his fingers curling into your clothes, your very bones. his lips move fluidly against yours, his head turning to mesh with your slow movements. your brain is fuzzy, his other hand reaching for the dip of your waist to pull you into his lap—except he grunts in pain from the contact, and you pull away with the sudden clarity that he is hurt and you are his doctor—as well as everyone else’s in this hospital. 

you can feel the heat in your cheeks as you look out of the machine room to see if anyone saw the two of you. he just admires you with amusement, that you’re concerned you overstepped despite how obviously he feels for you. 

“we should get back out there, your friends probably want to see you…” you smile, but all he can see is your kiss-swollen lips. he smirks, nodding and rising to his full height before following you into the main wing. 

the two of you don’t discuss the kiss, nor the obvious shift in your relationship. suguru calls you more often, invites you out to accompany him for walks around tokyo, takes you for fancy dinners. there’s been no official labels, no indication that this is his version of dating. you almost wonder if he’s toying with you since he knows you hold some sort of attraction to him after you basically threw yourself at him when he was injured. 

on the surgical front, things have been quiet. since that night, there’s been no retaliation. even you know better than to think it will stay that way. suguru, of course, is expecting their attempt at revenge any moment now—hence why you haven’t been to his estate in weeks. he doesn’t want you caught in the crossfire, but he’s not prepared to give up his time with you. that explains all the long video calls and expensive dates, if you can go so far as to call them that. you enjoy his focused attention, but can’t deny that you miss all the time you used to spend together. 

thankfully, today’s call is different. “hello, little isha. would you like to be my date for the upcoming annual charity gala?” he asks, the smirk clear in his tone. you like to give him a hard time, especially when you’re feeling neglected, he’s noticed–so your scoff doesn’t surprise him. 

“do i really have a choice in this?” you grin, and he wishes he were there to see your features brighten. 

“mm, no.” he chuckles, but you know he’s just placating you. 

“i don’t have anything to wear, when is it?” you huff, trying to disguise your excitement to go to an event with him. it speaks to how highly he regards you–and a hard launch tells you that he’s ready to make this real. 

“don’t worry ebi. satoru will be there in twenty minutes or so, i’ve taken care of it all. do your hair and makeup however you’d like, i’ll be ruining it all anyway.” he says so casually you don’t even catch it at first, only the fact the gala was today and you needed to get ready as soon as possible. 

“wait—you’re asking me to this today?!” you exclaim, panic setting in. you need to take a full shower in twenty minutes and trust that he picked something decent for you to wear. 

the phone line goes dead in response. you groan and slam it on your bed, sprinting for your shower. a charity gala? it must be a hot-shot event. maybe he didn’t tell you in advance because he didn’t want you to freak out over the people you’d be rubbing elbows with. you’ve learned to trust him wholeheartedly, but that doesn’t mean you’ve stopped wondering what he’s up to. did he say he was going to ruin your makeup?!

satoru is sitting next to a garment bag positioned on your bed when you get out of the shower. you didn’t leave your door unlocked—

“you broke into my house?” you gape at him, still wrapped in a towel. he’s unashamed, long legs stretched in front of him with one one ankle folded over the other. he just shrugs, keeping eye contact with you over his dark shades. 

“hey, he told you i’d be here in twenty, not my fault you took fourty-five! don’t worry—i’m not looking.” he smiles wolfishly, seemingly enjoying getting a rise out of you despite all you’ve done for him. you know he’s harmless—to you anyways. he juts his chin toward the bag and shoe box next to him. “hurry up—you got a lot of work to do woman.” he snickers, eyeing your soaking wet hair. you narrow your eyes at him and step back into the bathroom to dry your hair and put on a robe. something tells you suguru would not love the idea of satoru watching you in your towel, harmless or not. you style your hair in your favorite formal style, waiting to do your makeup until you saw the dress suguru selected. 

you step back out into your room, rolling your eyes as satoru fakes loud snores to convey his boredom. you ignore him to the best of your ability, unzipping the black plastic to reveal an even darker black dress. it’s a long formal gown with a slit up the side, the obsidian satin was adorned with shining glitter and a diving neckline. it’s gorgeous, and will look stunning on you. you nearly flush as you run your fingers along the smooth skirt, shaking your head at the lengths he would go to at times. you go for the shoe box next, pushing off the lid to reveal a matching black heel with red bottoms. you gasp—and satoru snickers. he knows how suguru is, and this was just the tip of the iceberg. you pick the shoe up, analyzing the sleek and expensive heel. you are going to tear suguru a new one when you see him. 

the setting sun sends one of her last few rays of light through your high windows, catching on the things left in the shoe box. a gleam catches your eye—something shiny and bright. you move the other shoe aside to find a necklace and matching earrings—gold with diamonds. no doubt all real. this time you have to look at satoru. 

“is he serious?” you hold up the jewels, satoru’s wide grin telling you yes, he is in fact serious. he wants you to look like his woman. because you are. 

“yeah. hurry up and get ready, we’re gonna be late if you keep gawking at them instead of putting ‘em on.” he rolls his eyes, but truth be told he finds this little love story quite adorable. suguru deserves it, and he just hopes you can fulfill this role without letting them all down. “look. suguru likes you a lot. please. don’t…end up on our kill list.”

you meet his eyes, remembering that gojo raised the alarms on toji and stood by suguru’s side more loyal than anyone. you just smile at him, nodding. even saving his life wasn’t a good enough excuse to let his guard down, and you were happy that suguru had him around. “you’re a great friend, satoru. i won’t disappoint you.” you promise, gathering the dress and accessories up and slipping back into the bathroom to complete your look. 

suguru is waiting for you when satoru pulls the car into the valet parking section outside of the event. he looks handsome—you’re convinced it’s effortless for him at this point. he wears a black tuxedo, complete with a matte black undershirt and a sleek black weapon tucked under his suit jacket. he tied all of his hair back for once, though his bangs and a few stubborn tendrils  frame his sharp featured face. he runs a hand through what he can as you step out. 

his eyes feast on you, starting at your slim ankles all prettily strapped into the shoes he picked out for you. then his eyes move up to your thick thighs and wide hips spreading under the dark silky fabric. the dips of your waist, the bulge of your breasts. he doesn’t know if this is a good idea anymore. taking you out looking like this was a sure way to cause trouble. your makeup was done subtle and stylish, your hair perfectly complimentary to all your best features. all he can do is shake his head and bite his lip like you had done the night you kissed. 

satoru gives the keys off to the valet driver and snorts at a speechless suguru. but he goes ahead inside to case the situation for his boss anyway—and to give him some time alone with you. maybe he’ll get a few words in eventually. 

“you’re breathtaking, my ebi girl.” he smiles, there’s no turning back from this now. “this event isn’t ready for you. there will be dangerous people inside, all of us camouflaging as successful and wealthy businessmen, not yakuza. don’t speak unless someone speaks to you. don’t leave my side, and don’t look anyone in the eye. i’ll keep you safe.” he promises, pulling you into his side. 

everyone in here was likely knee deep in illegal shit. you know suguru isn’t trying to scare you, he’s just trying to be honest with you; to include you in his life. so you obey his every order, clutching your glass of wine and letting the popular geto-sama lead you around to intermingle with other small clan heads and arms dealers, families of his workers and even some of his rivals. the cloak of public showings make it easy enough to blend in and not worry so much about physical retaliations here. 

suguru keeps his arm around your waist, getting handsier as the night goes on. you wonder if it’s just for show, to display you like his property just to keep other people away. his fingers toy with the slit on your dress, sliding his fingerprints over your thighs, calluses brushing smooth skin. whether this is just to parade around his successes or not, you’re melting into his touch anyway. 

“would you like to dance with me, darling?” he asks, his voice a deep timbre in your ear. the breath of his whisper ruffles your hair and sends goosebumps down your neck. you nod hastily, earning a chuckle that only makes that pool of liquid fire in your gut ripple with desire. suguru’s always intrigued you, tripped you up—but the way he can’t keep his hands off of you has you squirming for a different kind of dance as he leads you towards the ballroom floor. 

“ahhh there’s my little basket case. you remember me, don’t you doctor?” a deep voice booms ahead of you, catching your attention. suguru’s arm becomes a vise on your waist. you look away from him to see a familiar looking man. he was big and bulky like suguru, dark face tattoos with vermillion eyes. his hair was a pale pink—and you remember him. 

“you know sukuna?” suguru looks at you, absolutely betrayed. you furrow your brows—it wasn’t like that. you had to make sure he knows that, that you never lied to him. you just simply didn’t know that man you met was sukuna, the man that’s causing a majority of these issues for the man you’ve fallen for. 

“no—not like that—he bought me drinks that night at the bar.” you say quickly–pleadingly, and he matches that up to the story you told him. it makes enough sense that sukuna would celebrate his “victory” in a bar nearby as well—and the worry in your eyes claws at his heart. he knows you’re honest, knows you would have given yourself away at any mention of sukuna’s name if you truly were some half-spy of his. you are a lot of things, but an actress you were not. 

“bought drinks, became your shoulder to cry on, and then you disappeared. how sad to see where you went. finders keepers i guess—though, i have found you now!” he chortles, eyes lingering over your frame. his smile grows even wider at the way suguru holds you, fingers digging into your sides, trying to pull you behind him. 

“i don’t care where we are, sukuna. i will turn you into rat food if you come near her again.” he says, a vein popping out along his temple. his voice is threatening, terrifying even if you didn’t trust him like you do. he took your word at face value, even though he’s been burned before. his trust means more than anything. 

sukuna scoffs. “that enamored with the little surgeon huh? maybe i’ll give her plenty of surgeries to show my affections.” 

geto snarls, putting an arm across  you to keep you from following. “try me. i’ll give her your head to show her mine.” he pushes the side of his jacket aside to show the cute little 9mm he had stuffed away. your back straightens at the prospect of violence, but you fight the urge to interrupt. these were already warring gangs, you couldn’t undermine geto’s authority. 

sukuna just looks down, smirking at the threat and mockingly putting his hands up in surrender. the smirk doesn’t die down, only spreads wider until he’s the image of the cheshire cat. “we’ll tango later…dance with my little surgeon until i get her back.” he winks at you, causing even you to scowl his way. choso watches him go, looking ready to pounce as soon as suguru utters the command. but satoru’s the one to smile and encourage both choso and suguru to settle down lest everyone start asking questions. if satoru didn’t know how possessive suguru already was—if sukuna hadn’t already played into those insecurities, he’d offer to dance with you. instead, he just nudges suguru’s back once the music swings into a melodic jazzy swing. 

he turns to you, his muscles still rigid with rage. you can tell by the stiff way he holds your other intertwined hands out, that same tight grip on your waist remaining. his jaw feathers, and your heart pangs with concern. you know you two aren’t anything official, but he had to know how you felt, right? after all these months spent learning about one another—he’s your sole friend. he’s given you a chance to feel your purpose, to practice your craft and save lives. lives of men that were funny like satoru, kind men like choso and nanami, young men with lives to live and families to go home to. you would never walk away from him. not for fear, not for money, not for anything. so you clench his hand back and push him into stepping with you to the music. 

“suguru,” you breathe out, his darkened honey gaze bores into your soul anyway, making you breathless beyond that. you just meet his eyes with your soft adoration, pulling and pushing him into the dance moves as he tries to calm down, “he’s trying to get in your head. don’t let him.” 

“he wants you,” he replies instead, shaking his head a little–the image of an angry bull. you swear if you look hard enough, you could see smoke circles forming from his exhales, “i won’t let that happen. you’re mine.” he rasps, finally stepping and moving into you on his own. 

“i don’t remember you asking,” you smirk, knowing it may not exactly be the right time to provoke him–but it seems like your taunting doesn’t affect him. you’ve known it since you shared that kiss, and probably even before then. you’re his, and he is yours. 

“good thing i picked the perfect dress to take off of you tonight to prove it, then.” he muses, eyes dancing over your body. it nearly fills him with rage again–that sukuna got to see you looking this fucking good. it’s meant only for him. his hands wander to your hips, pulling you into his. your hands brace on his chest, pretty little bedroom eyes just pleading for him to get you out of here. 

“if i let you,” you chirp oh so cheekily he can’t wait until the party is over. he smirks at your words, eyeing your fidgety hands on his collared shirt. you know it’s inappropriate, you know there’s other people wondering why the two of you touch each other like you’ll never get the chance to again. but the usual shame or panic isn’t there to cloud your thoughts. you just burn with the sweltering need for him, and you know this is as clear as your mind has ever been. 

geto motions for gojo to lean in. “have choso bring the car. we’re heading home early.” he orders, never once looking away from you. you feel naked already from the way he devours you, and you can’t bring yourself to pretend you don’t love it. satoru smirks, but nods and goes to pass along the message as commanded. 

“i want you to remember your bold attitude here,” he says, only amusement lacing his tone. he’s bred a million plans for you in his head already, and waiting for the car is only making him more creative. “you’ll be too brainless to do it later, ebi.” he promises, threading his fingers in yours and pulling you towards the exit. 

you feel pretty brainless already, if you’re honest with yourself. it’s like it floated right out of your head the moment he looked at you like a predator eyes his prey. but you comply easily as if obeying him was written in your very dna. 

he prides himself on his restraint to not take you in the car—rationalizing that your first time together needs to be special. he needs to have the room to do what he needs to do to you. there will be time in the future for nasty sex in the car, if tonight goes right. 

you think you should be rewarded for your patience as well, thighs clamped together to avoid rubbing them together the entire ride back to his estate. it’s even worse as he tries to look composed, thanking choso for driving the two of you back home—politely asking that his men entertain themselves elsewhere for the evening, suggesting the business house in the inner city. choso gives him an awkward nod, clearly pretending not to notice the obscene way suguru grabs your ass as you walk into his house. you only giggle as the door closes behind him, but your laughter is cut short when he knits his fingers in the hair above your neck, pulling your head back gently enough. you gasp meekly and it just makes the predator in him purr. 

“you have any limits, ebi?” he raises a brow, his other hand coming to caress your face, thick thumb swiping over your bottom lip. you swallow, feeling every nerve in your body spark against his touch. you shake your head no–maybe foolishly, maybe you’ll regret it, but you don’t want him to hold back. you want to feel the full force of his desire too. 

“good,” he approves, hungrily kissing you. his injuries have fully healed, range of motion fully intact. no grunts of pain or ache in his muscles could keep him from claiming you now. you feel him consume you, his hand curls in your hair to maintain full control. the tips of your fingers tingle as your grab onto his broad shoulders, fully trusting him with the weight of your body. his lips are slightly chapped, scraping your soft ones and making your stomach do backflips. he pulls away after nearly a minute, letting you heave a breath into your lungs as he nips down your jaw, laving his tongue over every hurt. each one sends a pulse of power through your body, making two heartbeats as your core aches for him. his thumb and forefinger grip your chin and turn your face away so his lips and teeth and tongue can find the sweet spot on your neck—and it doesn’t take him long. you’re squealing out his name as he sucks marks into your precious neck, not caring how badly it bruises. he hopes it does—wants everyone to be very clear on the fact you belong to him. your hands slip to his chest, shoving at his jacket. he pulls away long enough to let it fall off his arms, collecting in a heap on the floor. he also unstraps his weapon and discards it on the table, pulling you back into him as soon as he’s done. 

“jump,” he orders, those wondrous hands scooping at your thighs once you do just that. you wrap your arms around his neck, admiring how beautiful he is this close. sharp and angular features that somehow maintained a subtle softness, full lips and eyes as warm as an early autumn afternoon despite how dark and cloudy they are when they look at you. he’s perfect, and you can’t keep yourself from kissing him again as he walks with you. he blindly follows the curves of his hallways, your heels falling off from all the movement. your lips move desperately, trying to tell him all the things you’ll eventually work up the nerve to say—and he can feel it. he can feel how much you want him, how long you’ve felt this way. he’s got you against the door of his bedroom, hiking your dress up to expose the pretty matching black thong you put on all on your own. he smirks devilishly. “cute little thing—planning to get fucked this whole time?” he raises a brow and you only answer with a smile and weak nod. 

he just growls in return, diving back towards you to nip and lick over your collarbone, grinding his growing bulge against the thinly veiled layer over your cunt. you clench around nothing, letting out a needy whine at his teasing. “suguru—”

“i know, poor girl,” he chuckles against your skin, trailing his kisses to the swells of your breast that your dress so provocatively revealed for him. he slips the thin spaghetti straps down your shoulders, using the slack to yank the chest of the gown down entirely, exposing your tits to the warm summer air. “i’ve got just what you need, don’t worry,” he groans, thumbing over the pebbled buds with lust blown pupils. you wiggle against the door, desperate for every flick to your nipple, every swipe of his clothed cock over your soaked panties. he leans down to kiss your sensitive chest, kneading the other. just the angle of his hips kept you pinned against the door, lips suckling on your pert nipple. you knew from the look that formed next that he was only sympathetic to you for the way he’d be satisfying your needs–and his own. everything happens so quickly. your tits jiggle as you land on your back, plush bed swallowing you up as he uses your ankles to drag you to the edge–just to show how easy it is for a man his size to manhandle you. 

he had a violent need to claim you—almost blinding now that sukuna had challenged him for you. he had to fuck all those thoughts away, couldn’t risk you even wondering what life with anyone other than him was like. your thong is tucked into the pocket of his dress pants, thighs spread and pinned by his warm and rough palms. your legs dangle over the edge of the bed and his shoulders, cunt glistening and on display for him. your inner thighs are coated with the same slick, and he smirks at how he was able to make you drool like this with hardly any work. his fingers swipe at your lips, dipping inside your little entrance to collect some of the sweet arousal. you gasp at the sensation of his fat fingers—two at once. he pumps them once, twice, before he leaves you empty again. you nearly whine, hearing him slurp the juice off of his fingers. it’s so lewd you can’t help but writhe for his touch, earning a groan in return. you’re like heaven to a man like him, the sweet honey in between your legs has him leaning in for a fresher taste, licking a thick stripe over your entire cunt with his flattened tongue. he groans again, shaking his head. you’re irresistible. he can’t believe how cute you sound as he plays with you, your little whines of disappointment make his cock throb. he leans up, the thumb of his other hand pulling back your hood so he could spit on your swollen clit, so needy for his attention. you gasp loud, legs trying to close as he sets into rubbing fast, torturous circles over your bundle. he slaps the inside of your thigh. 

“none of that, little girl. daddy’s trying to make you feel good.” he chuckles, inserting his still-wet digits into your puckered hole yet again. you gasp at the light slap—your back arching completely as he finger fucks you, watching you open and close your mouth as you try to cope with the intense pleasure coursing through your blood. it’s unfathomable. you pull at your own hair, toy with your own chest, grinding your hips down for an even greater high. he knows it won’t take you long—and that’s even better. he’s one step closer to fitting you around his cock–shaping you into his perfect pussy. but he needed to watch you cum, needed you to coat his tongue, needed every piece of you to be his. your sounds, your faces, your body—your mind. he needed it more than air. 

his fingers curl into the spongy spot inside of you, his thumb matching pace on your clit. you feel like you’re flying—like the sun above you warms your entire body as his fingers make quick work of you. in just a few minutes, you’re moaning loud and cumming on his thick digits. 

he lets no time pass, leaning in face-first to smother himself in your taste. you jerk with sensitivity–but when you reflexively try to close your legs this time, he doesn’t stop you. he welcomes the warm crushing force of your thighs against his ears as he laps at your core. if he thought your wetness was sweet, your cum is pure nectar. he’ll never tire of this, kneeling before the bed he will share with you and feasting on your gorgeous cunt—everything that led him here, to this moment, it was worth it and he would do it a million times over if it ended this way every time, arms looped around your legs to hug them even closer.

his tongue is just as fat as his fingers, forcing you to moan out as he breaches your hole for a second time. he just wants to savor every drop, taking his precious time milking your pleasure. your chanting and whining only makes his tongue slower, dragging against your insides before he finally moves it to flick your sensitive clit. you nearly scream out, having begged for his attention until he sucked your bundle into his mouth and scraped his teeth against it, brown eyes tracking every scrunch of your nose and eye roll of pleasure.

it feels like someone is pulling you apart from the inside and cumming in his mouth is the only way to fix it. you finally reach for a fistful of his black locks, yanking on his hair tie until it snaps and hair falls around him like a halo. you snap too, body shivering into him as he sensually eats at you. he relishes your little squeals and whines of overstimulation, chuckling into your pussy when you try to shove his head away. your chest is heaving, your eyes glossy in a blissful daze, lips glossy and swollen from how you’ve been gnawing at them. oh he has to absolutely ruin you. 

“so sweet, i got carried away…” he muses, pushing you to your side with a gentle pressure on your thigh. you catch his hint even in your brainless state, turning fully to your knees–balancing on wobbly arms as you throw your ass in the air for him, baring that sensitive cunt to the air and his animalistic stare. “you are mine, i hope you know that by now ebi.” 

he spreads your ass cheeks, watching himself guide his fat mushroom tip to your hole, twinkling with amusement at the way you clench down before he’s even impaled you with his wide shaft and leaky tan tip. he wonders if he should be careful, inching into you slowly to draw out your anticipation—and maybe there will be time for that later, for now, plunging his cock balls deep wins out. he wants to hear that nasty high pitched moan you cry out with, needs to feel your pretty pink pussy choke down on him at the sudden impact, needs to see his nuts slap against your ass with the pace he sets. he’s only satisfied when he sees you reaching out for the sheets in front of you, desperately trying to ground yourself to reality and escape his brutal pounding. 

the room gets hotter, heavy breaths and lewd moans are the language of love between the two of you—the rough smack of his pelvis and balls fit in the mix as a melody. he reaches forward, making handles of your hips to keep you from subconsciously crawling away. “tell me doctor, is that your cervix i feel stopping me?” 

you couldn’t answer, the connections between your brain and mouth butchered and his cock was the cleaver. he’s so big, so wide that you can feel him in your throat, every added touch to your body was just kindling for the fire. he has no mercy, thrusting into you like he was trying to get inside your womb. your skin is nothing but goosebumps, the way he caresses your insides have your arms fully giving up. you flop onto your face, his large palm sliding up your back and into your hair like before. it holds you steady, his other hand gripping your hip for leverage. your moans turn broken, his grunts of pleasure like music to your ears. 

“can’t answer?” he hums, eyes flickering over the mess that he’s made of you, the puddle you’re becoming in his sheets. he’s dreamed of this for months, since he’s met you perhaps if he’s entirely honest with himself. your sounds go from whines and moans to crying and screaming, legs starting to shake too. you’re already so sensitive, having experienced his mouth and fingers already. you don’t even have control of your body anymore, shaking your head as you hurdle to the finish line—especially as he slaps your ass just to see his handprint blister in your skin. “how precious. who’s my fucked out little girl?” 

“oh daddy—” you shiver, clamping down on him hard enough to tell him what was about to happen. he beams at your acceptance and use of the nickname, pulling your face out of the covers to hear you wail properly. in fact he balls up that grip and tugs your back to him—your body jelly enough to be compliant, only whines and sniffling in confusion. he never stops fucking your sex as your back meets his chest, his large hand snaking around to clutch your throat gently—more of a comfort than a threat. his other hand was the real danger, sliding around your hip to pinch and roll your abused pearl and send you sprawling over the finish line. you see stars at the position change, his punishing pace unfaltering. he wanted to see your gorgeous face, your makeup ruined as promised. lipstick smudged and mascara running down your cheeks—you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. he presses a kiss to your shoulder, and you finally release. you make him twitch inside you as your head falls back on his own shoulder.

it was a white hot sensation you can’t say that you’ve ever experienced before despite your previous sexual partners and your own pleasures. this was different, this was all-consuming bliss, much more than just a simple orgasm. he broke you down, read you like a book, and destroyed you just for him to rebuild. you feel like you shatter around his length, his pretty cock collecting your high as you cry and jerk and moan with heavy breaths. you didn’t think it could get better—but the sudden rush of warmth flooding your pussy makes you convulse a little again—earning a chuckle from the man that did this to you. 

he holds you up against him, the muscles of his body moving and flexing against your body. he fucks into a slower rut, still pushing his seed further so you had to keep it all. everyone would know who you belong to that way, that’s for sure. 

you can’t bring yourself to care, floating in the middle of a pleasure ocean. there’s no brain in your head to think with, only preoccupied with his warmth and strength keeping you supported while you catch your breath. you don’t even know if you have control over your own body, feeling akin to a slinky toy. he presses another kiss to your shoulder, his broad hand splayed over your stomach. “you take me so well, ebi,” he purrs, rubbing over your lower stomach, where all of his children sat. “rest now, isha girl. let me take care of everything else.” he assures, another kiss to your cheekbone, every touch so contrary to the roughness he handled you with before. it makes your eyes droop, the exhaustion claiming your muscles without you putting up any fight to stop it. 

suguru thinks you fell asleep before your head ever hit the pillow, but he wipes up any spillage and tucks you under the covers anyway. he gets a bottle of water just in case you wake up thirsty, the fleeting wonder of if he did too much crossing his mind. he just needed you to feel how desperately he feels for you. he has to make sure that this bed is the only one you’ll sleep in for the rest of your days. 

you’re still conscious, though only in the most basic way. you can feel his arms wrap around you, and a smile tugs on your lips as he peppers your face and neck with affectionate kisses even without knowing you could feel them. “i hear your voice in my head. or, heard, perhaps. but before i met you—there was a haunting female voice that pushed me to keep going. i’d never heard anything like it. you, it was you. you told me to keep fighting,” he says, his voice a deep baritoned whisper. you know he’s not much for romantic speeches, but here he is, pouring out his heart to you. “you sirened me into finding you. i’m not sure how you did that—but you saved me, ebi. in more ways than one. i’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know that. just stay here. don’t let anyone take you from me.” 

“after that i won’ be able to walk anywhere anyway.” you slur, a little giggle spilling out of your parted lips. his cheeks dust a light pink once he realizes that you heard all of that, but it only encourages him to nibble your ear and kiss your cheek with as much sweetness as he can muster. 

“go to sleep—or do you need more dick?” 

“hm, tempting–” you snicker and he grabs a handful of your ass from where you lay as the little spoon. you yelp and fall into a fit of giggles, putting an even broader smile on his face. his eyes only sparkle with amusement as you turn to him. “but i don think i can take it right now,” you coo, clearly drifting in subspace. you lean up to kiss his lips, short, but sweet. “you go to sleep too, mister mob man.” 

he does chuckle with that, shaking his head and running his fingers through your hair until light snores confirm that this time, you are asleep. 

morning light spills through the curtains, casting her spotlight on the two of you tangled up in one another in bed. your hair is a wreck—his isn’t faring much better—but you’ve never slept better. with his warm frame dwarfing yours, the rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a peace that kept you unconscious until his phone started to ring. 

he groans out his annoyance, arms tightening around you for a moment as if he was just as devastated at the thought of moving as you are. but he is an important man, and knows more than likely that this is an important phone call. so he detangles himself from you and answers the phone with a raspy morning voice that has your heart beating in your pussy. 

‘woah—slow down, satoru. what happened?” his face turns into a hard slab of rage, eyes narrowing as he listens to what sounds like a frantic gojo. he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, heaving a deep breath. “i’ll be there in ten minutes.” his icy anger bites through enough that you don’t sit up to console him, but as he hangs up and turns to you, his eyes are soft and warm yet again. 

“duty calls?” you pout, cuddling into the covers to replace his missing warmth. he nods, leaning in to cup both of your cheeks in his hands. 

“yes, i’ve some business to take care of. i’ll be back in no time, trust me. the fact i have a beautiful woman naked in my bed will be a wonderful motivator.” he smiles softly, tilting your head back so he could place a loving kiss on your lips. “there’s water on the table if you get thirsty, darling.” he notes that look of concern in your eyes and pushes a stray lock of hair out of the way. the back of his knuckles brush over your cheekbone, and there’s a gentleness in his ochre gaze that puts you at ease. “don’t worry my isha. nothing can keep me from you now.” 

you nod, leaning in to give him another kiss just in case. your heart pounds with a new kind of anxiety as he slips from the sheets to get dressed, one that clutches at your heart in places it never did before. you can’t lose him. you don’t even know if you can handle seeing him hurt anymore. life has surely changed drastically from months ago—and now you get to trade in your nervous and self-deprecating anxiety for the kind of torturing worry that only having a yakuza lover can give. you’re no longer an anxious doctor—no, you’re the concerned girlfriend, waiting on suguru to return.

morning light spills through the curtains, casting her spotlight on the two of you tangled up in one another in bed. your hair is a wreck—his isn’t faring much better—but you’ve never slept better. with his warm frame dwarfing yours, the rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a peace that kept you unconscious until his phone started to ring. 

he groans out his annoyance, arms tightening around you for a moment as if he was just as devastated at the thought of moving as you are. but he is an important man, and knows more than likely that this is an important phone call. so he detangles himself from you and answers the phone with a raspy morning voice that has your heart beating in your pussy. 

‘woah—slow down, satoru. what happened?” his face turns into a hard slab of rage, eyes narrowing as he listens to what sounds like a frantic gojo. he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, heaving a deep breath. “i’ll be there in ten minutes.” his icy anger bites through enough that you don’t sit up to console him, but as he hangs up and turns to you, his eyes are soft and warm yet again. 

“duty calls?” you pout, cuddling into the covers to replace his missing warmth. he nods, leaning in to cup both of your cheeks in his hands. 

“yes, i’ve some business to take care of. i’ll be back in no time, trust me. the fact i have a beautiful woman naked in my bed will be a wonderful motivator.” he smiles softly, tilting your head back so he could place a loving kiss on your lips. “there’s water on the table if you get thirsty, darling.” he notes that look of concern in your eyes and pushes a stray lock of hair out of the way. the back of his knuckles brush over your cheekbone, and there’s a gentleness in his ochre gaze that puts you at ease. “don’t worry my isha. nothing can keep me from you now.” 

you nod, leaning in to give him another kiss just in case. your heart pounds with a new kind of anxiety as he slips from the sheets to get dressed, one that clutches at your heart in places it never did before. you can’t lose him. you don’t even know if you can handle seeing him hurt anymore. life has surely changed drastically from months ago—and now you get to trade in your nervous and self-deprecating anxiety for the kind of torturing worry that only having a yakuza lover can give. you’re no longer an anxious doctor—no, you’re the concerned girlfriend, waiting on suguru to return.

tags: @justboredtingz @monikosman1311 @khaleesihavilliard @lagataprrr @shinylightsalad @userbananababes @shoutascoffeepot @kxchokxcho @diorsbrando @thecityofspareparts @lees-chaotic-brain @woozzz @spam-love (sorry to those that are not getting properly tagged :( )

[rewh0re]

—JUST THE TWO OF US ; KUROO TETSUROU

-1.5k words, narration heavy, mainly post timeskip present day setting with reminscence of pre timeskip, mentions of marriage, mentions of moving in, domestic ig (?), kuroo is called dickhead twice, just fluff nothing but fluff and comfort, kuroo turns 29.

a/n: it is kuroo's birthday so you can count on me to deliver a kuroo fic :D pls don't ask why this is so domestic, that's all I wanna be with the guy I love him sm. REBLOGS AND INTERACTIONS ARE APPRECIATED!!

kuroo needs just one more gift from you on his birthday, a gift—your answer—that will change his world, for better or for worse.

Kuroo was grateful for a lot of things in life. He was grateful for his job that sustained his life, he was grateful for all his friends who he spent all his years with and who stood by his side no matter what. He was incredibly grateful for volleyball for training him to be a good leader, honing his teamwork skills, making him more social and interactive and most of all, he was grateful to the sport for leading him to you.

Kuroo remembers all those years ago when you both were but two high schoolers. He remembers how you applied for the position of manager in your first year just so that you could be in a club. He was the one who taught you all there was to learn about the sport and you taught him how to deal with Lev when he was being annoying, amongst many other things. He noticed first hand, the change in your eyes as you slowly grew to love the sport. He remembers the days you tended to all of the Nekoma team members, putting them in their place when they needed to be. He remembers you gently squeezing his shoulder just before he gave his final motivational speech in the nationals prior to his match with karasuno. He remembers how after the match he cried with his head on your shoulder and you told him how proud you were of him, of where he was and what he achieved. He remembers the look of gratitude in your eyes as you told him how proud you were of him for making the trash can battle a reality and he remembers that that's the exact moment he realised that he's fallen in love with you.

Then came graduation filled with tears of melancholia, smiles of pride and joy, throwing of caps high and hugging all the people who helped you get through these three years. Classmates taking pictures to store each other in their memories. Juniors crying because who would now give them the motivation they needed? That's when Kuroo asked you out. He slowly pulled you aside as he led you by your hand to the volleyball gym where the both of you spent the last three years strategising against other teams, planning training camps and what not. For the three years you had known him, that was the first time he seemed to be out of his wits. He stumbled and fumbled and rubbed his eyes and sighed before he finally said in one breath, "I like you. It took me some time to realise, but now I do and I like you and I really do hope you like me back-"

Your soft chuckle interrupted his train of thoughts. You could swear he had never been this confused in his whole life. Then you started laughing and he thought that's it. He thought he was about to face rejection and his heart started breaking, piece by piece.

"It took you so long, you absolute dickhead," was all you said when you finally calmed down and Kuroo stood there, more confused if that was even possible.

"I like you too. It's a shame we're not in the same college but I believe in us. We'll make it work, we always do. Right?" You smiled and it was gentle, filled with deep affection and warmth. So contagious was your smile that his lips stretched into one until he too, was grinning.

He took your face in his hands and touched his forehead with yours, closing his eyes as he let your scent fill him in. He felt your hands close on top of his and he confirmed, "we'll make it work."

Fast forward to some eleven years later. Fast forward to now, in the present where he's there with you by his side. You've become a constant in his life now. You were always there, cheering him up and vice versa. Through aggravating college professors to annoying bosses and coworkers who got on his nerves, you calmed him down. You moved in with him some years into dating. Kuroo was so happy when you accepted the apartment key he got you as a birthday gift with a smile, his usual nerves shaking off the moment you kissed him.

That's not to say your relationship was always smooth sailing, no, it definitely wasn't. You had your fair share of fights with one of you sleeping on the sofa or even leaving the apartment because sometimes a break was all you needed. However, you both always found your way back to each other, back in each other's arms with muttered apologies and silent tears. Whenever you had a fight, he felt his world would tear open. It scared him. But you always came back and he was always grateful and he knew he'd never lose you. He couldn't afford to. You knew the same. To lose him was like losing an integral part of yourself. To lose him would mean to drown yourself in the great blue not knowing how to come up to the surface.

Fighting these hardships, always being there for each other no matter what, letting your love for each other reign victorious over every hurdle is what brought you here today. Today, his 29th birthday. A quaint night where it was only the two of you, your shared giggles and the faint glow of the refrigerator light in the darkness of your apartment as the two of you tried to dance. A tune played in the background, just the two of us by Grover Washington Jr and Bill Withers. Both of you were horrible dancers, stepping on each other's feet. The half eaten cake on the table was long forgotten, empty Chinese takeout containers and chopsticks laid bare. None of that mattered to Kuroo, all that mattered was how in love he was and truly, he must have done something amazing in his past life to have been here with you. You'd given him his gift an hour back when the clock struck twelve to be exact. However, Kuroo was allowed to be a selfish man today. He wanted another gift from you, an important gift that would very much make or break him.

Suddenly the weight of the little velvet box inside his sweatpant pockets felt immense. There is a certain time, a right time for everything, he felt proposing now would be perfect.

So you saw him suddenly breaking away from you as he slowly got down on a knee. Confusion. That was the first reaction that took over your face followed by realisation. Then your slow gasp as your shaky hands went to cover your mouth when he took out the velvet box and opened it.

The ring was absolutely beautiful. A splendid diamond with intrinsic designs.

"I don't think there is a day that goes by where I don't thank my fate for leading me to you. I am a lucky man because I can call you mine," he started. There was a tiny crack in his voice which he tried to hide. You were at a loss for words.

"Ever since that day, eleven years ago now, when you said yes to dating me, I have been so grateful. Grateful for so many things, especially for you. I love you y/n, so very much, I can't put it into words. I was never as good with words as you. However, I do want to say that I want to be a little selfish today. You'll let me be a little selfish right? I want another gift from you. I want you to say yes to my next question ok? Will you do me the honour of marrying me?" By the time he finished his speech, tears of happiness strained your cheeks and you were on your knees, hugging him. Hugging him tight.

"It took you so long you absolute dickhead! Yes! Fuck....yes!" You whispered in his ear between sniffles and you felt his body relax in your hold, the muscles loosening as his arms wrapped around your waist. He sighed in relief as he buried his face in your neck.

You remained like that for a while, just silently crying tears of ecstasy in each other's arms. It felt like a long while before he left a slow kiss on your temple and separated from you to slide the ring on your finger. It looked absolutely gorgeous.

Kuroo was lost in his own thoughts, admiring the ring on your finger with a gentle smile until he felt your free hand on his cheek.

He looked up at you, grabbing your neck in a gentle hold and kissing your forehead before touching it to his own.

"We made it work Tetsu, we made us work," you closed your eyes, basking in the warmth that was Kuroo Tetsurou. Basking in the comfort that your now fiancé brought with him.

"Of Course we did," you felt his lips against yours. "We always do."

[alien-girl-21]

The Käärijä Research Paper (tm)

aka: Error Analysis of the Use of English Articles in Jere Pöyhönen Interviews in 2023

(Before we start, a couple of clarifications: firstly, I am a linguistics student and this research was my final project for my psycholinguistics course, secondly, this was a group research and I have gotten permission from my friends to share these results with y'all so tysm to them, and lastly, the og work is LONG, 50 pages long, so I'm condensing it into the important bits)

Findings and explanations under the cut <3

Before sharing the actual research, i'm going to share some important terms for you guys to understand the overall layout of this work.

Error analysis: kind of self explanatory, it's the process of analyzing errors, specifically in one's speech, more on how we did this later.

Omission: The alienation of a linguistic form in speech (i.e. I go to (the) supermarket.).

Addition: The opposite of omission, putting an unnecessary linguistic form in a sentence (i.e. It's the maybe half and half.).

Substitution: Exchanging a linguistic form for another one (i.e. He admitted to have stolen a wallet. Instead of: He admitted to having stolen a wallet.).

Overgeneralization: Looking at a grammatical rule and thinking it applies to every case with no exceptions (i.e. finding out verbs conjugated in the past end in -ed and creating conjugations like writted instead of written). Also known as intralingual transfer.

Negative transfer: When your mother tongue (L1) seeps into your second/foreign language (L2) (in this case it's foreign language, but I'll still call it an L2 for simplicity's sake), if we're talking about Spanish negative transfer it can look like: the car red (Spanish adjectives go after the noun, unlike in English). Also known as interlingual transfer.

Local error: An error that does not affect the overall meaning of the sentence, making it still understandable.

Global error: An error that affects the overall meaning of the sentence, making it difficult to understand without clarifications.

Okay, with that out of the way, let me explain what we did:

We decided to make an error analysis on how Jere utilized articles (the, a/an) throughout 2023, for this we considered 2 interviews and 1 Instagram live, the interviews were: KÄÄRIJÄ TRIES LITHUANIAN FOOD (uploaded on 12/04/23) and Episode 3: Käärijä and friends (uploaded on 26/12/23), the ig live was the one he did to promote the release of Huhhahhei on 19/10/23, the dates are important for later.

Now, to do the error analysis in itself we followed Rod Ellis’ proposal for error analysis which follows four main steps:

Identifying errors: Self-explanatory, you see what errors one has committed.

Describing errors: Once you see the errors, you describe what exactly the error is, it can be with grammatical categories, or with omission, misinformation, addition, misordering, and substitution.

Explaining errors: After describing the error you need to explain why this error was committed, the two main ways are through overgeneralization and negative transfer.

Error evaluation: After all this, you identify how the error affected the overall message of the sentence being spoken, was it local or global?

We put these steps into a chart and listened to the interviews and identified the errors we found, it’s a really long chart, so if you want to see it fully you can find it here (hopefully). After identifying all the errors and doing our own error analysis we… well, analyzed the data, duh, according to the objectives we set up for the research.

Our first objective was to identify errors Jere has committed regarding articles in the three videos I mentioned. What we analyzed was more grammatical, so what grammatical structure he used the most. He usually omits an article before a noun and with adjectives, like in: “We go to bar with my producer…”, or “Käärijä goes to boat.”, or “I am fine, uh… little bit tired.”. Obviously, this is kind of expected because Finnish does not have articles, but he also adds articles when it is not necessary, like in: “I have the one festival.” Here are the charts of the grammatical trends:

Then we focused on the describing errors part of our analysis. In this part, we found out that he usually finds himself committing omission errors, with 67 in total across the three videos, like I said before, expected, however, the second most common error is addition, this means he adds an unnecessary article in a sentence, and what’s interesting is that he usually does it with the article “the”. Since this is not an actual academic article I will speculate with a full chest: I think he does this because people are usually taught that “the” is the only article in English (only definite one, but not the only one), and that nouns usually have an article accompanying them, so I think that he adds the when he is unsure if an article needs to go there or not. Finally, there was only one case of substitution: “This is the lovely story.”, not really sure why he did this, but it’s interesting that it only happened once. Have the charts and graphs:

We moved to the next step: explaining errors. When we started this research, we thought that we would only have negative transfers since, ya know, Finnish grammar and all, and we were kind of right? He has committed negative transfer errors the most, with 66 in total, but he also had 23 overgeneralization errors, which I didn’t really expect to happen with articles that much. Not much else to say here, have charts:

Lastly, error evaluation. He made mostly local errors, which is what mainly characterizes his speech, we know what he’s saying, he just usually lacks some grammatical form that doesn’t affect his overall meaning. He did have 15 global errors that unless you have the context, it can be a little confusing to understand what he’s trying to say (like in the ig live he said “here tour” when he wanted to say “here in the tour”). Charts!

Our final objective was to see the evolution of these errors, has he made more or less as time went on? Well, since we all can see and hear, he has made a great improvement! You already have the charts above to understand that, but I just have to explain it. In the first interview, in April, he made 50 mistakes in total, by the ig live he had cut those in half, and by the latest interview he gave in English he had cut the mistakes in half again! Have the graphs to accurately see this:

He has improved so much in such a short amount of time! Even more impressive when he hasn’t really taken any formal English classes, just by talking to Bojan and Alessandra. There’s a difference between language learning and language acquisition that was proposed by Stephen Krashen (cool dude, if you’re interested in language learning, go check him out). He says that people usually learn more by acquiring (unconscious) rather than learning (conscious), and you can see that Jere has learnt so much by acquiring English through his friends and his own experiences! And this is just looking at how he uses articles, there is also a distinctive change in how he uses other grammatical forms (but that was too much work for just 2 weeks, maybe I’ll do it later, no promises on anything, though). Even if we’re not talking about his grammatical and syntactical forms, his pronunciation has improved as well! My friends were fascinated by how his accent seemed to develop from video to video, which was very sweet because his accent is one of my favorite things about his speech, but that’s off topic.

The general takeaway from this research is: Jere still has a lot of Finnish tendencies in his English, he has developed his own grammatical structures to communicate in English, and how much he improved in an 8-month period is kind of insane, especially for an adult (who are the age group who have the most trouble learning languages). He’s the it-girl of blowing off a linguist’s mind (me, I’m the linguist)

That would be all!! If you have any other questions, feel free to ask! I'm more than glad to answer them

[number-onekidqueen]

Hey!!!

Could you please do Luke x Goth!fem!reader where they are dating secretly, and Luke finds out she’s getting bullied for how she dresses he decides to confront the bullies and put them in their place 

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

Luke Castellan x goth!Hades!reader

apologies for the awkward spacing, my laptop is going through some glitch 😭

angsty fluff

warnings: bullying, verbal abuse ig, a few swear words, Stacey is a cliche warning, mentions sexual themes

"You don’t like it, do you?”

He shook his head insistently. You laughed.

“No, I think it’s cool, I just don’t listen to this kind of stuff. It’s new to me.”

You and Luke were sat on your bed in Hades cabin, listening to a cassette you had snuck in this summer.

It was actually how your mum had bonded with Hades. She always told the story of how she had been walking home from a shift, listening to her favourite album on her Walkman, completely lost in the bass and cacophony of drums, unaware of her surroundings. Too late she had noticed a drunk driver swerving towards her. And then a man had come out of the gloom, drawing her safely away by clutching her cassette tape and headphone wires. She’d been at a loss for words, and he’d simply walked away.

He’d met her the next night, returning her Walkman with praise for her music choice. And every night later he’d appear somewhere along their journey, and they’d converse about music and fall in love.

That very album was what you were listening to at the moment. And from the look in his face, it certainly wouldn’t be making its way onto Luke's playlist very soon.

“I know it’s loud, I get it,” you reassured, “I guess I just love the…. Passion.” You didn’t see while you were rambling, but the look Luke gave you then could only be described as adoring. He loved when you ranted like this. “These artists, they’re pouring their heart and soul into everything. Every word they scream, and string they play, they’re giving their best performance to do so. I find it so amazing.”

The sad thing was, not many people shared your view on that, which led to the predicament you were in.

Well, it wasn’t just the music. It was probably the way you dressed too.

Regardless of your explanations, people were always going to stare at your black shorts, choker and smoky eyes. They would always whisper ‘goth girl’ as if it was a swear word.

But you never thought they would be quite so mean. Come on, you were one of them, right?

Wrong, apparently.

"Hey, emo, anyone die lately, or just your style sense?"

This particular jab came from Stacey, an Aphrodite girl who just seemed to loathe you, and was your polar opposite with her glowy make up, tight camp tee and cropped shorts.

Usually you ignored them. Sure, some of their comments were mean, and sometimes you could hear them when you looked in the mirror, when you applied your mascara, when you lay in bed in the darkness. But today, you were done. You were so sick of Stacey sniping and sneering at you. You were going to bite back.

"I didn't realise dressing for men was considered style, but if so, then sure."

There was silence as she gasped at your comment, looking at her friends in shock and for support. She scowled then, and chewed her gum obnoxiously in what you guessed to be an excuse to think of a comeback.

"I'm sorry I get a reaction from men. Kinda sad that black and death doesn't turn anyone on, huh y/n? But I'm sure you don't care. Probably have some relationship with a dead body, right?"

There were muffled giggles as all the Aphrodite girls covered their mouths at her retort. She began to smirk at you as you blinked at her in shock, genuinely hurt.

"I don't get you, Stacey. Why would my style have anything to do with that? How do smoky eyes have anything to do with-with necrophilia or whatever you're suggesting? What the fuck?" You spat, and you walked away from her, hating that you had been defeated, that that stupid girl's words made your eyes feel heavy with tears.

Because to her, you'd always be weird. That one goth girl who always wore black no matter the occasion. Who barely got a first glance from boys.

It was then you wanted to scream to them how much you knew Luke cared about you. You wondered how much their opinions would change, if they knew camp's golden boy was sweet about you. But you never did, because you knew they wouldn't believe you, and so it led to tears and frustration, locking yourself inside your cabin and crying until your face was a runny, smudged mess.

You'd settled yourself against the wall for around half an hour, your hands in your hair as you bathed in misery and insecurity when you heard the first round of insistent knocks and urgent calling of your name. It was him.

Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you got to your feet and let him in, praying you looked better than you felt. His face fell as the door opened and he spotted your saddened features, so you guessed you didn't. Luke stepped in, shutting the door behind him, and immediately brushing the tears from your face with his thumbs, his eyes sad.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded, as he drew you into a hug.

"It was just some-some girls, don't worry, they always do it, I'm just-y'know, being dramatic," you let out a broken laugh into his shoulder and more tears fell, "I guess I should expect it."

"No you shouldn't. They shouldn't torment you regularly just because you dress different to them." He pulled away, his eyes furious now, the cocoa centres dangerously dark, "What the hell is wrong with them?! Tell me their names, y/n, their names."

"No, it's fine, you-you don't need to talk to them, it's-"

"Well, I'm going to either way, so you can tell me, or I'll just find it out."

"I-I-" you stuttered, your body shuddering as a wave of tears swept through you once again, "it was that group of Aphrodite girls, with like Stacey and-"

You buried yourself in his arms, and he squeezed you tight, fingers brushing gently through your hair. "You know you're so much better than them, right?" he murmured warmly, "you're smarter, you're prettier-"

"No, I'm not-"

"Yes, you are, and you should know it, because you are, y/n. You're worth a million of them." Luke's words were firm, and the way he looked at you then, resolute and as if he believed his phrase with every particle of his being made you soften. Made you almost believe him.

"I'm gonna come back with some soda, and we can chill out and listen to your tape, yeah? How's that sound?"

"Amazing," you said, with a watery smile.

"Great, well I'll go now, so I can be back soon," and he sent you a faint-inducing grin as he inched out of your arms that made you lose track of a few sentences.

"Luke," you protested, when you finally got your tongue under control, "no, you-you don't have to this, right? You realise you don't have to do this? It's ok, it's-"

"Yeah, of course," he responded calmly, that same grin on his face as he reached for the door, "I don't know where you think I'm going. I'm just off to get some soda."

And do some other things along the way.

He stormed over to the Aphrodite cabin, knocking rapidly before throwing the door open. Stacey was there, sat on the bed humming a pop song and fixing her hair in her hand mirror, frozen in place as she watched him barge in and shut the door. Her surprise smoothly transitioned into seduction, as was typical with a lot of Aphrodite girls.

"Someone wanted to see me," she cooed, sending him a flirty smile.

Oh yes he did indeed.

"So, I heard about some things with you and y/n,"

"Oh, yeah, that," Stacey waved the words away as if they were a pesky fly, resting on her elbows as she looked up at him with doe eyes, "she looked like a horror movie, Luke. Like, you know how much I care about the kids! They might get scared."

"Yeah, yeah sure, Stacey, I'm sure those were your intentions."

She frowned at that, her glossy lips and thin brows crinkled.

"Why are you even standing up for her anyway? It's not like she's nice, and she's so weird, like she's probably not even straight, like I've heard she has relationships with bats and graves and shit."

"And where did you hear that, Stacey?" He asked coldly, anger rising through him.

She quickly noted the negative emotions surfacing in his tone, and cocked her head. "I don't know, like just around the place. Look, I don't know why you care about this so much? I doubt she has a soul."

"Oh, she does, Stacey. And her soul is much more beautiful and amazing than yours will ever be," he sucked a breath in, trying to restrain his utter rage, "and I want you to never talk to my girlfriend like that again."

"Y-your-your girlfriend?" She spluttered, absolutely shell-shocked.

"Yeah, my girlfriend."

"But-what-?"

"She's the best girl at camp, so I don't know why you say all that stupid stuff about her. Anyway, I need to go now, Stacey, but I think you got the message, yeah?"

She nodded dumbly, her eyes still wide, and Luke smirked as he left the suffocatingly rose-smelling cabin and went into the open air.

With that done, he needed two ice-cold cans of soda.

[alicerosejensen]

I love your page so much omg. I‘m literally obsessed with your work😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Also I have this imagination in my mind going on about how Leon would try to help his girlfriend from recovering from her mental health issues since she’s always helping him. I was recently thinking about how he would react finding her not moving on the bathroom floor and trying to bring her back! I rewatched American horror stories and the scene with tate and violet in the first season episode 6 (ig?) is always in my head. I‘m still recovering from my past and my unhealthy habits and tbh recovery never felt better.

If this is too much for you or triggering please ignore this.🫶🏼❤️

I had a terrible period in my life when I was a few steps away from doing something like this in my life and unfortunately this shit often comes out. I'm not sure that such texts help me work through my psychological traumas, which were, in fact, inflicted on me and continue to be inflicted by close people who do not consider me a person, but at least such works help me to vent my pain, which I cannot permanently bury in myself.

I have been postponing this request for a long time because I was probably waiting for the right moment to write this text.

There are mentions of suicide, psychological trauma, severe self-doubt and anxiety, so if this is not acceptable to you, then please just block it.

Perhaps there is a similarity with my previous texts, but I am writing this with strong emotions now that I am trying to cope with it again.

the text is chaotic, I repeat, written while I was under the influence of strong heavy emotions. Maybe I'll delete it later, when my brain gets back to normal a little bit.

If a songbird doesn't sing well, they wring its neck.

Maybe it was the costs of Leon's profession and the result of his constant missions, after which something human is gradually dying in him despite the constant struggle to save everyone. Raccoon City was supposed to teach, if not to survive, then make him begin to understand that some are doomed to die.

Leon Kennedy was taught not to offend, but to protect the weak, especially weak women. But it is difficult to calm the flow of disordered thoughts and put aside the fear that has seized him in order to clamp bloody wrists and apply something to them to stop the blood. Leon knew many strong women: Ada was perhaps the first among them, he did not know either her past or her real name, only the present that pushed their foreheads against each other; Claire, a fighting friend of misfortune that he met in that ill-fated city; Ashley, who turned from a baby eagle into a proud eagle; Angela Miller and others…

Your strength dissolves in the water, coloring it scarlet while your heart stubbornly still beats, let the rhythm noticeably shorten.

In truth, over the past few months it became clear that this was the only way out. When even your loved ones considered you an expired product and did not hesitate to remember this and remind you every time. In the end, their words turned into an obsessive worm that settled in your head, slowly day after day, month after month, devouring you and the circumstances seemed to be not in your favor. Instead of support, you somehow faced reproach, as if the universe was screaming that you were an wrong person, nature's mistake who had no right to live.

Escape attempts were doomed to failure. At first you tried to suppress it in yourself, helping Leon, because, in your opinion, he was the only one who had the right to complain about life, although he did not do this in front of you, because everyone said that you had no problems: you have everything limbs, there are no fatal diseases, all loved ones are healthy and there is a roof over your head, as if this is enough to not fall for nonsense and not walk around forever with a sad face.

This was the last time you shared your experiences. You didn’t even bother telling Leon, but everything inside was torn from constant pain. The feeling was as if you were being beaten by two extremes that led you to the edge of an abyss where you ultimately voluntarily jumped.

no, you really loved him, it was just other people’s words and your own speculation that convinced you, despite your strong relationship with him, that Leon would find someone better, someone more confident in himself, someone who would not be you because you had already missed the chance for a good life because it moved too slowly. Ultimately, a couple of sips of alcohol with sleeping pills and a sharp blade in his hands simply promised to correct the mistake in the form of you with your own hands.

You didn't have the courage to do it any other way.

But you really didn’t think that if you could try to open up to your loved one, you would meet support and not condemnation. Perhaps in a mad world he would be the only one who would heal your wounds as you healed him in your time. Leon clenched his teeth, feeling tears flowing down cheeks, seeing these crimson stains, when he pulled your body out of the bath, holding you close to him, repeating “I’m holding you. It's allright"

He so carefully laid you on his lap, managing to pull out a first aid kit and then bandages to tightly, albeit carelessly, wrap them around your wrist in order to somehow stop the bleeding. At least you were still breathing, thereby giving him hope that everything could still be fixed. the darkness and emptiness came to life, calling in a whisper to dissolve into eternal silence where there is no pain or condemnation. Your body will be in a grave under a gray stone, while the remains of your soul will float like a small grain of sand in infinity.

For Leon, everything happens in a fog; he tried more than once to save people, but he had no right to lose in this battle, even if you yourself surrendered to death. Shaking his head, brushing away the tears, he wrapped your body in a large terry towel, kissed your temple and picked you up, trying to somehow warm you, pressing you closer to him. the ability to provide first aid in the field and pull suicides out of the other world is not the same thing. Leon would have thanked God if he had believed in him, convinced that blood loss was the least of the evils that you had caused yourself, until he saw the remains of some substance at the bottom of the glass that stood on the table along with an almost full bottle of alcohol.

You really didn't give him a chance.

The ambulance took several minutes, which seemed like an eternity. In fact, Leon wasn't sure if it was worth trying to make you vomit when you'd already lost so much blood that it was already seeping through the bandages. Surely you would need a transfusion and Leon is ready to give you all his blood if only you would wake up. Holding his breath, he carefully looked at your chest, watching whether you were breathing and fortunately, your heart was still beating, slowly, but it was still fighting for life.

He stroked you on the head, kissed you, promised that he would take you somewhere else, quiet, where no one would dare to offend you, even if it was your family. You could have just asked him for help, just cuddled up to him and he would have protected you from other people’s attacks, but you preferred to remain silent. Kennedy was tired of waiting for the medical staff to let him in, although relatives should be allowed to see the patient first, but the position of a government agent sometimes had its advantages, and they concerned not only the high salary. When he was let in to you, it seemed to him that you had become half your size while you were lying on the bed, curled up under the blanket. It didn’t work out to pull off a beautiful suicide, which meant that soon angry relatives would come here with new sweat of bile especially for you. They won’t care about your feelings, but Leon sat down next to you, trying not to intrude too much into the space in which you imprisoned yourself, as if this blanket cocoon could be a separate world where you could hide. He spoke to you carefully, hating himself for not being able to understand in time what was wrong with your behavior; perhaps if he had been more attentive to you, the incident could have been avoided. You would see a psychotherapist, take a course of medication, and your environment would definitely be taken care of.

You cry, not letting him come to you, hating how you weren't just left to die and how much you hate this world. Hysteria after hysteria, nervous breakdown after nervous breakdown, in the hospital you repeatedly tried to commit suicide, but the attentive staff managed to prevent this before you inflicted fatal injuries on yourself, and if after some time Leon still managed to carefully break through your armor, then your loved ones This did not concern relatives in principle. You only allowed one person to visit you while you were undergoing psychological treatment and you behaved calmer and calmer, listening to the velvety words that soon all this would be behind you.

“We’ll go home soon,” Leon smiled, gently holding your hand and kissing your forehead, just glad that you’re alive, that you’re breathing and that your psycho-emotional state is slowly but improving. “You know, I have a surprise for you, I think you’ll like it when we get home.”

Soon what happened will become another nightmare in his life, a blessing with a good ending, but for the sake of this happy ending, Kennedy is ready to descend into hell at least every day.

You nod at him and smile a little, fearing that the gift is some kind of party on the occasion of your discharge. In fact, the last thing you want is to see someone’s faces, especially those who diligently hammered into your head how insignificant you are. Why do you even hope that the doctor will postpone your discharge, but the plans for your further treatment were completely different.

On the other hand, after taking antidepressants and psychological help in a special medical institution, how many men are ready to stay with their girlfriends who have been there for several months? For Leon, it seems this was not a significant problem, or he simply carefully did not show it. However, there were no parties, no calls, you simply returned now to his home where there were new interior items. it became somehow more comfortable... but something else surprised you.

Puppy. A small puppy of a couple of months old ran towards you and Leon to meet both of them, but stopped and began sniffing your shoes, while something thawed in your heart.

“Animals seem to help us well, They feel when we feel bad, it seems to me a good idea to get us a little companion,” Leon said quietly, stroking your back while you were busy with the puppy, rejoicing at the little living soul who will love you with the same pure and devoted love.

Ultimately it should have a happy ending too. Leon is ready to go to great lengths so that his beloved songbird starts smiling and singing happy songs again, even if it is necessary to remove other birds from her family who sleep and see how to pluck all her wings again.

You and he also have a chance for a happy ending.

[plsdonttakemyname]

You dont have to feel like you gotta do this, bc i know sm ppl r too out of their comfort zone with it, but would you consider:

Poly!Soukoku? Like Dazai / reader / chuuya?

Fluff HCs?

Ig if you wanted more fun stuff (pls dont do it this is too much!) What do you think would be a good ability for an S/O of them to have?? :0

I have this one idea where their just a sort of puppet master and have strings that they can latch onto ppl and physically move them around, or even mess with memories (the non-passionate/deep seated ones) bc i thought Dazai would like the different ways it could be applied, and Chuuya would think it's badass to watch you just, lower the glowing strings coming out of fingertips attached to like a group of armed enemies and they just like, drop their guns and bow.

Feel free to have fun with this however you want, or delete the request if its too much!

Also the ability i talked abt doesnt have to be readers ability, and these could just be chill headcanons abt their relationship! Whatever works!

Hope youre having a great weekend so far, and I really like your writing!!

Cheers,

Poly Anon ☢️

Poly!Soukoku X G!n Reader

— — — — — — — —

A/n; Hi Anon! Tysm I really appreciate it! I'm glad you like my writing! I hope you're having a great weekend so far too :D

— — — — — — — —

Genre; Fluff, Hcs

Pairings; Chuuya X Dazai X Reader

Warnings; Mentions of Suicide(Dazai), my bad writing, Might has some grammar mistakes 😭

Now how do I start with this chaotic relationship...

Chuuya would try to kill Dazai from time to time and you have to be there to stop them because of it 😭

I feel like s/o would toy with their opponents with the use of their ability

Mori had assigned you three on another mission together even though one was already enough since the three of you were strong enough but who knows why he assigned you three on a mission like this

Chuuya would be surprised and amazed at the same time when he first saw your ability with his own eyes, sure he has heard about this ability before but he’s never actually seen it for himself before.

Chuuya thinks that his s/o is so badass when they puppet the enemies, making them bow down and drop all of the weapons carried to the battle.

Dazai on the other hand would not really get surprised since this is his first time actually seeing this ability with his own eyes and not hearing it from some stupid book, but he still knew from the beginning

But when the three of you are all bored and out of missions to carry out, you'll all hangout in a bar to spend some time with each other

It's either one of yall ended up drunk OR you all ended up drunk and passed out in the bar 😭

The three of you will always go out to the mall or on expensive dinner dates

You all share the same apartment and that's where things are starting to get really wild

When getting into bed, there is never peace...The three of you would be kicking each other off the bed and slapping each other in the middle of the night 💔

"GODDAMN CHUUYA STOP KICKING ME" *SNORES*

Chuuya Is the kicker,Dazai is the pusher and you're the one that's suffering 😢

Just imagine this, suddenly you woke up at an ungodly hour because you felt a hand slapping your face just to find out it was Dazai slapping you in his sleep and Chuuya is almost on the floor still dead asleep after a long day in the Port Mafia.

You had enough one night and decided to kick them both off the bed and acted as if you're still asleep 😭

It's legit 4am and suddenly you just kick them off the bed "OW" "what...the..fuck..." *Y/n fake snoring noises*

Besides that when it's really peaceful it's either they're both on a long mission or they're ACTUALLY not kicking or pushing each other off the bed.

The three of you likes to cuddle and fall asleep in each other's warmth

"Will you,Y/N L/n, Come double suicide with me?" "no." "OI MACKEREL IF YOU WANNA DIE I CAN KILL YOU NOW STOP ASKING Y/N TO SUICIDE WITH YOU JACKASS" "YOU HURT MY FEELINGS CHIBI.." while you're just busy typing up a report and also trying to calm down

When one of you are on a mission alone you all definitely give each other a goodbye and goodluck kiss before heading out

Besides all of those chaotic stuff happening in your relationship, You all are an unbreakable trio

— — — — — — — — —

That's all I hope you like it </3

[jeonsbabygirlsworld]

CHOCOLATE SAUCE

SUMMARY: The better way to have chocolate sauce is to have it on your bodies.

PAIRINGS: Jungkook x reader x Mingyu

WORDS:782 Ig ?

SMUT WARNINGS: Food play, Just Blowjobs, she messy af,cum eating, reader is called slut by Jungkook, mentions of fucking her ass later but not in detail, Jungkook teases Mingyu about sending a video to his girlfriend Lmk if I missed anything.

A/N: Thank you to the sweetest person requesting this <3 I hope I didn't disappoint you. Drabbles will always be open for this fic :0 Please like reblog and follow ⚠️⚠️Also, this contains cheating themes don't read if this triggers you. ⚠️⚠️

Soft and giggling voices resounded in your apartment when Jungkook entered he thought Mingyu, and you would be watching something on the TV. But boy he was so damn wrong about it. 

You were all sprawled above the large kitchen counter fully naked while Mingyu had a chocolate sauce bowl in his hand and he traced your shoulder blade and spine, your nipples were already messy with the sauce from the early teasing, giggling softly when he dropped them teasingly.  

“Hey Jungkook, look she looks so fucking edible,” Mingyu says holding one freshly cut strawberry in his fingers and dipping it in the mess on your shoulder, Jungkook gulped looking at the site.  

“Come here, kook join us, baby,” you say softly your fingers doing a ‘come here” action.  

Mingyu licks off the sauce while Jungkook watches you both and undresses himself. When Mingyu is done you get up and sit up on the edge. While Jungkook walks up towards you standing in front of your spread legs and kisses you on the lips softly.  

“Missed you, baby, was Mingyu good to you baby when I was gone?” He asks pulling on your lip when the kiss ends “he was good, gave me the best Morning sex today” you say turning to face him, extending your arms to have both of them with you.  

“Yeah, baby? Now are you gonna be good for me? He asked his hands taking yours and taking it to his crotch heavy and thick in your hand. Fuck so heavy I’m sure those are full of his hot cum.  “look I’m so hard for you”

Lifting you off the counter table you were now on the floor facing his raging boner. Giving Him the cutest puppy eyes you speak making his breath hitch “Kook, please want to suck the chocolate sauce off your cock, pretty please”you say grabbing him through his boxers and nodding to you.  

You look up to See Mingyu already handing you the bowl. “Gyu, can you stand next to him, I’ll suck you off too baby,” you say getting ready to make a mess on Jungkook’s cock.  

Hissing at the cold touch of the chocolate sauce you suck him groaning at the taste of the chocolate and his salty Precum “So fucking good Kook” you say turning to Mingyu and giving him a hand job.  

“Baby make him messy too, suck him off too yeah?” Jungkook smirks looking at him “Yeah go on y/n make it messy” he growls while moaning when you apply some on him.  

This goes on for a good minute sloppy sounds fill the apartment their cocks wet with your saliva. The chocolate sauce sometimes drips on the floor when you’re too busy with another one. Jungkook being the head pusher enjoys it when you suck his balls hallowing them and groaning when you suddenly come and take his leaking tip in your mouth.

Mingyu on the other hand ,he twitches when his cock is wet with your salvia and a bit of chocolate sauce left on the base forgetting about when Jungkook asked for your attention.  

“I’m going to cum baby, do it fast…...yeah just like that fuck that it, right, like that” Jungkook moans when he came right in your mouth some of his hot cum trailing down on your tits. “I’ll focus on Gyu now it’s fine baby?” You asked him, humming he sat down on the sofa.  

“Have fun Gyu, I’ll fuck her ass afterwards, shall I make a video on your phone Gyu? Show what you do when you should be with your girlfriend and not your slut?”  he says teasing him and winking at you. “Fuck you Kook, she better than Hearin anyways”. He says waving him off.  

You apply a bit more of the sauce on his cock palming him and leaving kisses and sucking on the red tip “fuck y/n, so messy make it more yeah” Mingyu announces his hands grabbing your hair to keep you in position. “Take what you can baby only what you can, pretty mouth is gonna make me cum” he says always being a sweetheart to you.  

“Fuck yeah Mingyu cum on your pretty girl’s face do it” you begged speaking in between all the sucking and palming. Mingyu soon reached his high cumming on your face.  

Looking at jungkook he says “fuck she looks really pretty”  

You sit there looking at them with your puppy eyes, both of their cums on you and yeah, the remnants of the chocolate sauce on your nipples.  

“Yeah, let’s ruin her now, shall we?” Jungkook says getting up and taking you to the room with Mingyu taking the chocolate sauce bowl.  

It’s gonna be a long night and you are ready for it. 

<3<3<3

TAGLIST : @kimmingyuswifee , @jungk97kwife , @meraofc , @httpjeonlicious .

LEASH PT 1

LEASH PT 2

DRABBLE 2

[king-krisu]

A lot of random stuff/lore he said from the webinar because guess who took NOTES (these are all in order of appearance so sorry if they seem a bit scattered lol):

The photos are all stuff he sent in himself lol

His first ever debit card was an Uuno Turhapuro one (I couldn't find photos but that's what mans said)

They moved to Ruskeasanta when he was in the third grade

His mom used to work in a bank so he's been taught about financial stuff from a young age (but according to him he "forgot" a lot of it in his teens and became more like his father lol)

He used to sing in a school choir and did school plays, and after a while he found himself really liking performing

He used to get so nervous before gigs that he was shaking, and now he feels he can't perform without a proper audience (as in he feeds off audience reactions and at ESC was more nervous for rehearsals where there was no audience)

The interviewer asked if he gets nervous from something else nowadays, and he mentioned maybe being nervous about meeting the president on independence day (see: Linnan Juhlat)

His first ever summer job was at his grandparents hotel in Laukaa, where he used to mow lawns and make the beds etc for 5€/h lol

All the money he made from that job was wasted on a trip to Ayia Napa with his friends 💀

He used to be really late in the game and asked about available summer jobs in the last days of spring/first days of summer

Since his parents used to sacrifice a lot in order to get the kids new hockey gear or whatever was needed, he now has dreams of providing for his family as a way to say thank you (he mentioned his father eating scarcely for a month bcs he'd use his money on the kids, and how Mikke has also helped him pay rent etc when he was struggling financially and also during pre-UMK prep when he didn't have time to work)

When asked about school and dream jobs he mentioned applying to become an Interior architect but he didn't get in, and for a long time he also dreamed of becoming a P.E. Teacher (cursed). He also again mentioned his degree in interior design (at high school level, we call it ammattikoulu aka vocational school)

They referenced a study about finnish people mostly only planning their finances a month ahead, and he said he's already looking at his retirement plans and how to fund it. He's using the merch company money for his retirement fund, as well as other various sources, which he's splitting 4 ways (including Mikke) with the people involved. Overall his company (which he started in February and owns with his producer 50/50) pays the salaries of 7 different people with varying amounts/frequencies, and he said a lot of the tour money goes to the company to keep it afloat

Before UMK he used to photoshop house/apartment photos for Mikke (who's a photographer), as well as sell kitchens (and apparently also design them to some extent)

He used to have 5.5k followers on IG before UMK

He started gambling at 15 (it used to be legal from 15 years old in Finland until some time ago)

He moved out at 18-19 years old, and he had to quit his job quite soon after due to his illness. He lived on a lot of Kela (social sec) money, and was also helped by his family a lot

He mentioned often being anxious over his financial situation when he was younger, and was well aware that gambling isn't the best way to use money. He hopes to one day be given the opportunity to do speeches in schools etc in order to teach kids about financial security (aka do as I say not as I do lol)

Hes always lived in rented apartments, but his dream is to own his own house one day (he mentioned maybe doing it next year already)

He used to have an ASP-account (an account where you save 10% of the price of your first home and you get better loan deals) with at the most 12k€ but he had to empty it (he didn't mention what for)

When he told his family he was gonna apply for UMK and was gonna quit his job to focus on the music/preparations, Mikke said "let's make you a star" and supported him financially during that time (also his parents and grandparents helped)

He mentioned that in the future he might decline gigs if the money offered is too low, because for example 5k means he gets left with nothing because it's shared with 5-7 different people, and he says even if it means touring less he doesn't want people around him to lose money ("It's an unfortunate reality, but it's the choices you have to make as an artist if you want to be lucrative/worthwhile")

When asked about the Euro tour he mentioned (very strained I might add) that "some things" happened and he's not gonna be left with any money from it, if he'd known beforehand how it was gonna go he wouldn't do it. He was excited to see how it goes but he said he's more interested in people coming to Finland to support our economy, instead of him going abroad [and leaving the money there]

Also NEW MUSIC 15.9

[theepisceswriter]

JJK characters comforting a stressed out/overworked significant other ( Gojo, Nanami, Toji, Mei Mei)

TW: none really apply, GN!reader, headcanon format

GOJO SATORU

He's QUICK to notice the signs when you're under distress, any slight change in your mood and he's on the case like Olivia Benson.

It's during times like these that he really clings to you and is an attentive partner because he's seen what the weight of stress can do to people close to him and he REFUSES to let them succumb to it if there's anything he can do to stop it.

He becomes so soft and vulnerable with you the moment he notices your eyes are a little too bloodshot

"What's wrong baby? Do you want to talk about it? We can lay down if you'd like."

He turns into your therapist for the day and purposefully clears his schedule for the day so you can rant to him for as long or as little as you'd like. You can take it all the way back to drama from grade school if you wanted to and he'd listen genuinely to try and come up with solutions for you.

Did I mention all of this is happening while you're laying on his chest and he's stroking your hair? V U L N E R A B L E !

The moment the source of your stress is identified don't even worry about it anymore, he's most definitely going to take care of it and you.

Oh and he's going to throw you a stress-free themed party with the jjk kids that seems so silly but actually helped all of you in the long run.

NANAMI KENTO

Nanami is a stressed out and overworked man in general so you would do your best to hide the fact that you’re stressed out to not add on to his stress, but Nanami isn’t falling for any of that “I’m okay, I swear (:” nonsense when it comes to you. He recognizes those bags underneath your eyes all too well. Not to mention that he can hear you typing away on your laptop and shifting around in bed checking your email at god forbidden hours of the night when you should be sleeping.

He moves in silence for real unlike the people who post those quotes on their IG stories, so you most likely wouldn't even notice that he knows how stressed and overworked you are. You should absolutely know better than to think you're tricking him, when this man gets partners he STUDIES them to a T!

You'll just come home from work and he'll have dinner already made for you along with special pastries that he prepared himself and a night of self-care prepped for you to complete; he's big on acts of service as a love language.

"But Nanami I have wo-" "You didn't ha-" AHT! He's not hearing that, he'll just gaze at you and then motion to the table with his head. You have no choice, this man is going to make sure you're stress-free for certain by the end of the night.

And yes, you are going to get a lecture on the importance of mental health and self care and no you cannot tell him about himself.

MEI MEI

“Darling, why do you work yourself so hard when I can just take care of us?”

Mei Mei is a sugar momma and you can’t convince me otherwise. Half of that money she finesses out of others? Yeah, it’s going towards you and your expenses.

The first sign of distress and she’s sending gifts to your house that she knows will cheer you up. New shoes, a couple of new expensive outfits, some roses, etc, etc.

I also feel like she's a master baecation planner too, so don't be surprised when she sends you that "pack your bags" text at 8pm and the next thing you know you're in Aspen skiing with socialites.

Though, depending on how much she likes you and values you this could be a good or bad thing. If she's not really vibing you like that but thinks you're cute enough to keep around then she's doing all of this just to get you to shut up about ranting to her.

"Stress is just a mindset and one that causes wrinkles so knock that off."

BUT, if she reaaaaallllyy likes you then these are genuinely just the perks that come with having Mei Mei as a girlfriend. Best believe she'll find a moment in the midst of spoiling you when you two are alone to get to the bottom of your stress and help you figure it out.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

He don't give a FAWK what you got going on baby !

I'm just playing yall, he cares but because he's emotionally unavailable its very hard to tell that he cares sometimes.

Hit him with a "I've just been so stressed lately" and he'll hit you with a "So stop stressing 😐" he means well I promise.

It's when he sees it take a toll on your mental health that he gets concerned, or as concerned as someone like Toji can be. Once he notices the fatigue, lack of eating, and dark eye circles his protection instincts kick in. As someone who's traveled into the deepest and darkest parts of his mind, the last thing he wants is for someone he cares about to end up in a place like that because he knows how it feels.

Just like Mei Mei, his acts of service and the amount of support he gives you depends on how far along and serious you two are as a couple.

If you're casual he'll just give you verbal reminders like; "Don't you think you need a break?" "Go eat you look like a witch" "I would suggest a nap to help with those dark circles." He's apart of that sassy man apocalypse we're.

BUT, if you two are locked in then he'll go out his way a lot more to make sure you're comfortable like buying you comfort food, watching a movie or two with you, and fucking to keep your mind off of it.

He'll physically take your work laptop away from you and put it on a high shelf purposefully so you won't be able to reach it. Your job keeps calling you in on your off days? He'll pickup the phone next time and let them know the Toji way why you can't come in. Boss irritating you over a project? Don't let toji see him in person or get ahold of any office numbers!