Before bed kiss. 🧍🏾♂️ Souma And Mr Geto Sir.
before bed kiss. 🧍🏾♂️ souma and mr geto sir.
it’s in bed that he feels the most restless.
like an earthquake, memories that he’d long since buried would resurface, the epicenter of which started with the familiar voices of old classmates and friends murmuring his name, in the dark, sometimes obtaining a physical form in the corner, sometimes as lingering touch on the set of his brows, ghostly as thin air. he rolls up on his bed and is greeted by the blurry vision of still curtains. summer’s embrace coated him in a layer of sweat, uncomfortable enough that lying down and still on his mattress does little to appease the thoughts swirling in his mind.
it’s until he grasps at the strings of consciousness that he notices the body lying next to him, the soft breathing pressing at his sides as though cradling a new-born bird in hand, warm and fragile to the touch. the night sat still, eerily so. if a pin dropped, maybe souma and him would’ve been able to hear it echo in the quietness of the room.
“can’t sleep?” more like an observation than a question, suguru whispers from his position, his voice a hiss as though every syllable carried the weight of exhaustion as they left his lips. though this night is like any other, souma’s presence in his room is entirely new. not for the first time he’s overcome with urge to touch him, unsure whether the souma in front of him is corporeal or a midnight illusion, a haunting presence to torture his lonely soul.
or an escape.
suguru blinks weariness away, a single digit traces the sharp dip of souma’s nose, then down to his lips. there, his skin is greeted by the warmth of his shallow breathing. he remembered, then, like a flame flickering before it’s put out, the taste of those lips against his own.
they’d been soft, feather-like, and bittersweet. it had none of the innocence he imagined, so foreign, and he remembered having to chase after the sensation, as though it eluded him, not out of fear but something else entirely. ‘have you been told’ he’d said in an undertone, burying his nose in the crook of his shoulder, lips pressed onto sun-kissed skin and into a thin smile, ‘that you’re like a scaredy cat.’
although he meant nothing bad by it, his words gained him a light reprimand, and the moment subdued into quietness and then into deep sleep. he wondered how long souma had lay awake, if he’d waited for suguru to open his eyes and pick up from they stopped - the conversation or the intimate exchange altogether. he glances at the clock on his bedside. it’s way past midnight.
“usually, people are scared of the dark.” the hand that touched souma’s face had moved down, two fingers waltzed across his arm and the dip of his waist, voice going down by a few octaves, “sorcerers aren’t the exception. i believe that there’s an irony in that. we’re born with the ability to stare into the dark, the blackest darkness you can imagine, and yet we can conjure a primal fear like that. if a darkness curse existed, i wonder if it would be something that can be exorcised. it’s rhetorical, you don’t have to answer.”
a pause. their gazes meet, gold and grey, the shades of a cloudy sky. though it’s too hot outside to bring their bodies closer, the proximity mirrors the feeling of spilled blood.
“are you afraid of the dark?”
@sukareo
More Posts from Einshi and Others
&. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.
( this is basically just a very self indulgent list of various fluff, angst, and suggestive themed dialogue sentence starters. )
❛ i could keep you safe. they’re all afraid of me. ❜
❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜
❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜
❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜
❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜
❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜
❛ clean yourself up. you're getting blood all over the place. ❜
❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜
❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜
❛ come back to bed. ❜
❛ you look good like this. ❜
❛ working together again, it’s just like old times. ❜
❛ how is it you always know what i need, huh? ❜
❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜
❛ i can’t imagine losing someone like that. i’m sorry. ❜
❛ you know you can always talk to me. ❜
❛ the only one who gets to kill you, is me. ❜
❛ so, what do i owe this pleasure? ❜
❛ ah, so you aren’t heartless after all. ❜
❛ may i have this dance? ❜
❛ it’s okay, you can touch me. i won't break. ❜
❛ enemies make the best lovers, you know. ❜
❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜
❛ we can't keep doing this. ❜
❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜
❛ just relax and let me take care of you. ❜
❛ thought you’d be lighter without all that blood. ❜
❛ i had it under control. you didn’t need to do that. ❜
❛ everything looks so beautiful from up here. ❜
❛ you treat all your ladies like this? ❜
❛ well? how do i look? ❜
❛ can’t sleep? ❜
❛ do you mind if i smoke? ❜
❛ i’m scared of ending up alone. ❜
❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜
❛ how long has it been since you've slept? ❜
❛ you are losing my interest, and that’s very dangerous. ❜
❛ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ❜
❛ you look really pretty right now. ❜
❛ i’ve never cared for anyone the way i care for you. ❜
❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜
❛ just a few more stitches and you’ll be as good as new. ❜
❛ i’d say we make a pretty good team. ❜
❛ i want you to forget this ever happened. ❜
❛ i'm here for business — not pleasure. ❜
❛ if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were jealous. ❜
❛ you'd look better down on your knees. ❜
❛ fine, keep acting like you hate me. ❜
❛ kiss me again. ❜
❛ are you asking me out on a date? ❜
❛ just sit there and look pretty and let me handle this. ❜
❛ you okay? caught you staring off into space again. ❜
❛ well, i do feel better now that you're here. ❜
❛ i'm not drunk enough for this. ❜
❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜
❛ i was wrong about you. ❜
❛ the first time i met you, i had no idea you'd mean this much. ❜
❛ you gonna be a good girl / boy for me? ❜
❛ i’m not afraid of you. ❜
❛ books mean more to me than people anyway. ❜
❛ i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. ❜
❛ how about a kiss goodnight? ❜
❛ i don’t have time for distractions right now. ❜
❛ you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❜
❛ if i have to think about one more thing today, my head will explode. ❜
not me getting notifs that you rbed our thread thinking i was getting more tojisugu content........
Worry not I will make tojisugu real even if it's the last thing I do before collapsing on the floor, geto will get his birthday death today @inverteds
why are you guys liking my thirst post i thought nobody was online
she's not dead , i can see her breathing . (Chrollo at Makima if you’re familiar with hxh!)
‘ are you familiar with blindness? ’ gaze inquisitive, never wavering. there’s no double intention in the topic chosen, though she finds the irony of it amusing enough to let the silence eat at the last syllables, her voice a lullaby in the empty space of the cathedral’s towers.
she moves away from the place where sword and arrow intended to pin her down — perhaps there’s something about buildings of this kind, always craving for a sacrifice. she notices a second scent, too, almost hidden by the soft cologne from his clothes. it’s barely noticeable, though desperately wanted to be seen, to be chased. makima’s head tilts to the side, spirals and his black voids meet in the middle. ‘ i’m talking about the essay. the author has long since passed away, sadly. but his work left an impression on me, when i first read it. i won’t bore you with the specifics, but i’d like to talk about the overlap in our situations. ’
the lights do little to help her, echoes satiate her curiosity and she calculates the proximity as she descends from the stairs, her gait slow and casting shadows, longer and longer the more her figure comes into view beneath the thin veil of the moonlight. ‘ you have correctly discerned that i wasn’t truly dead and by no stretch of the word. just like there is only one person who can see in a world of perpetual blank canvases for the rest of humanity. ’
‘ it’s an interesting work. the author died slowly from an incurable disease. ’ she dusts her clothes off, slowly braids her hair back, wipes the blood from her face. her attention never leaves him, and neither does his. ‘ disease is not something i know. or death. and it doesn’t seem like you do, either. can i know your name? ’
@lustraveil
what is ONE THING you like about the way i play my character?
still in awe at the constant flow of posts using the same line of "sorcerers aren't heroes in the story" to somehow diminish geto's actions throughout the series which, albeit born from reaching a breaking point after exploitation and misuse of his ability as well as the circumstances in which both he and gojo were forced to grow up into fine killers, it remains true that he killed more than a hundred of people indiscriminately (how convenient it would be that he only chose those who were "culprit" of mimiko and nanako's lynching, right? because there was a reliable way for him to know it right? there wasn't. it was indiscriminate killing under the assumption that not a single soul was free of sin), the murder of his parents who, as implied, were non-sorcerers as well and in order to add value and weight to his point, he considered their status as family didn't exempt them from sharing the same sin as the people in the village: by being ordinary humans they are bearers of cursed energy and their negativity would invariably end up being consumed by him, or the curse would consume someone else, someone like haibara, who was weaker, could be anyone but a sorcerer like him. and the treatment of every other non-sorcerer that he´s come across in the series.
i've mentioned this before in a different blog but i bring it here too: there is no possible way in the main timeline where geto will choose anything else but his goal of total erradication of non-sorcerers, because as a person who needs a purpose, who needs something to live for, the dawning realization that he'd wiped out entire bloodlines in a single night, the emptiness gnawing at him from within, made him seek for something that would justify his actions and he latched onto the first thing that he knew: the only way to prevent curses from being born is either to erradicate cursed energy from humans or the humans themselves. he chose the latter, so it ended up becoming a fundamental part of his identity, giving it up means giving up on himself altogether, it means that leaving everything behind, leaving his one and only best friend behind, the school, his comrades, the killing of his own family, all of it held no meaning at all and he needs it, he needs it to mean something, needs his existence to not have been that of a machine grinding meat for the higher ups to feast upon, that maybe this way he can have the liberty of acting upon his own desires and not those of others who only benefitted from the sacrifice of others. he turned his fangs back at them, and they hated him for it, but he hated himself more because he knows no other way to defend himself from total failure and meaninglessness.
so basically, while he is a victim of a corrupt system, just because sorcerers are not exactly heroes or molded to be saviors, it doesn't mean absolution: at the end of the day, even those who were also victims of the same system did not arrive to the same conclusion. his actions are entirely his own, it's the path he chose. he doesn't wish to be forgiven, he doesn't think to force others to follow. does the snake ask for the mice's forgiveness? does it expect it? it does not, it is hungry, it doesn't know any other way to eat but this. and would you tell the mice, the snake is misunderstood, it is hungry. would it make sense to them? silly metaphor because animals hunt by instinct but truth remains relatively the same: he knows what he can do and what his strength amounts to, and he makes conscious use of it, unrelenting. you can't exactly categorize him as anything else but what he is: a curse. the worst curse user.
Caught my daughter with yugioh cards so i made her smoke the whole pack
Scold me; deny me. Tell me you want what you want and damn me forever. But don’t leave me. - sherliam
he’d call this a poor excuse of a foxhunt, if he’d intended to hunt william at all.
what you are is chasing skirts, Mycroft had said, mistaking alliance for attraction: Irene — who is no more, had never been source of interest, much less temptation. but Mycroft had been right about one thing: he’d been bewitched, possessed by something unearthly and older than mankind. it festered up on his bones, left no trace of his original components. it’s the damnedest thing, really, to want something that eludes you, runs from your grasp. he’d seen it fall through his fingers like quicksand.
right now, it’s all entirely his. petty possessiveness, maybe, but he’s long since accepted that this is what william provoked in him: he brought out the madman in him, blood dripping into water, and the mixture had become an unholy union of good and bad. william may be a sinner of his own kind, and sherlock had chosen to play the role of his juror, butcher and the devil if he must. sherlock shifts in place, elbows placed languidly on his knees. from the bench, the city’s buildings almost look like bricks on the playground. william’s still quiet, as if waiting for his response.
“since the bridge, this is the most honest thing you’ve told me. excluding the confession from a moment’s ago, of course.” he jabs slightly at william’s pride, maybe payback for the scare of walking up into an empty room and messy sheets. satisfied by the remark, sherlock smoothly waltzes back into the next sentence, “you know exactly what i want. i’m betting a big coin that you’ve known for a long time, and still you denied me it above everything else. it’s late to ask me to hold back, knowing how far it’s taken me — us for that matter.”
a smirk escapes him, throwing a sideways glance at him. william’s hair glows under the sunlight, and though his face is partly scarred, none of the beauty that’d drawn him in from the start like a moth to a flame is marred. before he can stop himself, two fingers take a stand of gold-bathed hair, places it aside to take a long, good look of those features. yes, the face is a lure, and the mind behind it even more so. “it’s you.”
“what i want, i mean. it’s you, liam.”
@cursedfell
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