#and finding it so much easier and nice to engage with people

[alllgator-blood]

I need to ask, because of it I CAN'T SLEEP AT NIGHT.

How do you make, not only long comics, but also VERY FAST. Like- I read one part that has 2/3 like pictures and then next day are again 2 or 3 and I'm like grabing my head and just screaming HOW??? (Also these comics are very yummy and I feel like getting stabbed after each one but in a good way cuz I like being stabbed (Kallamar got a bit too relatable in that one comic 💔))

THAT'S REALLY IMPRESSIVE AND ALSO SHOCKING FOR ME. Like- what is your secret??? 🤨🤨🤨

HAHAHA OH GOD I DID NOT THINK I WAS VERY FAST BUT- I'll try to do a list of tips I thought of off the top of my head, in case any of these help you or anyone else??? I try to not gatekeep anything I do because I think the world needs more comics honestly, so I tend to ramble a lot when giving advice.

click the read more to unleash many paragraphs of tips:

Okay these tips aren't 100% about being fast but also being efficient/keeping a good pace, I hope that's okay!

1: Originally the first tip was "draw every day even if only a little bit, so you don't lose steam" but I'm sure everyone has said that at some point. So I'll just say I Pavlov myself into drawing better by having little "rituals". Liiike...the only time I have energy drinks is when I draw. Or the only time I light candles is when I draw. I have specific songs I put on when I START drawing to get me into the Zone. I find that when certain circumstances are met, it helps the time fly by 'cause I stay focused enough to keep a steady pace. After a while of doing those things when you start drawing for the day, it tricks the brain into going "oh shit, we're drawing now? aight bet" and then you just. Go

2: SETTING DEADLINES FOR SURE HELPS. It's definitely nice hearing from people that there's no Real Pressure on me when I post comics...for free...of characters I have no obligation to draw...just for the enjoyment of doing it. BUT I work best when I have a fire lit under my ass, so I set deadlines like "I need to post this on saturday/sunday at noon so the algorithm will actually let people read this comic". I usually slip those into a description so it's a very casual announcement and I feel okay with postponing it if necessary, rather than making a text post like "NEW COMIC SATURDAY!!1" and then feeling terrible if I can't finish it in time. Lmao

3: I just fuckin GO when I make a draft. Like for this new comic I'm working on, I just sat down and started drawing like the world was gonna end; there's a lot of panels with very off model characters/wonky anatomy because I just wanted to sketch enough for future me to get the idea. I try not to look back on my progress for any reason besides continuity, because then I see how long the comic's getting and I sweat bullets. Literally so many comics have been ditched because I got spooked thinking about how hard it'd be to finish them. So if you just shut your brain off and don't think about the technicalities of it, just keeping mind the story you want to tell- it's SO much easier to complete. Breaking comics into parts is ABSOLUTELY necessary for completion :')

4: Maybe the most important piece of advice I learned from a published comic artist, is that people are gonna look at your comic panels for an average of like 10-20 seconds and will move on to the next. You don't wanna spend hours on a single panel that basically only exists to convey a tiny bit of the plot. So I like to draw just *enough* to convey the general environment/mood, but not feel obliged to put in a million little extra details. I really hate doing backgrounds but my art, to me, feels incomplete without them. So I'll add like PART of a room or a general Nature area just to say hey, this takes place in the temple/outside/whatever! As long as your story is engaging and the pacing is comfortable, I don't think people will mind (or notice) if you take shortcuts.

5: I listen to specific things to help maintain a good speed while not being distracting or understimulating. During the sketch stage, I usually have something slow/instrumental going so I can focus on the little movie that plays in my head and draw what I feel like a scene would look like. It also helps not distract me from what they're saying. For tasks like lining/coming up with color schemes/reworking dialogue, I have something more stimulating playing but not like distracting, so a video essay I've already watched or fast music I already heard a lot of times. THEN for the absolute fucking slog that is the coloring stage, I blast shitty breakcore or put on an actually interesting video so I can zone out while I click my mouse ten billion times to fill in all the colors >:)

Basically, comics are funny to me because it's like a frantic fucking race to the finish line before your motivation completely abandons you. There's been a few comics where I was ABSOLUTELY sick of even looking at them, I think it was specifically "in little ways, everything stays" where the comic itself is sweet and inoffensive but OMFG. I WAS SO TIRED OF DRAWING GRASS AND REWORKING DIALOGUE. KALLAMAR AND LESHY JUST HUG IT OUT ALREADY SO I CAN STOP DRAWING.

This post probably reads like "I HATE COMICS!! I HALF ASS THEM TO GET THROUGH!!" but I really do love making them and it's kinda the only thing I like doing nowadays, so the other aspect of why I get them done fast comparatively is just that it's what I spend all my free time doing. Some comics take weeks of me working on them daily to finish them, because working on them is my main coping skill rn so it always feels worth doing. I know it can't last forever so I try to just get as many stories as I can out before my circumstances change! Maybe don't be motivated by fear of the future though. Just do these because it's fun and people love reading your comics :') I KNOW I DO

In any case- here are the lines for the beginning of the new comic, I KNOW you love the funny squid so here's mine as a kid flexing on narinder for being able to summon his crown weapon:

[traumasurvivors]

I'm on Threads now as trauma.surviors.

Link here.

[d-emeter]

Types of lingerie they'd go a little feral over — plus-size!fem!reader x cod characters

Includes: Price, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, König, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria

CW: mid/plus-size reader, photos of people wearing lingerie!, mentions of sex/sexual activities

Photos are not indicative of reader's body type/skin colour/other physical attributes! Just meant to be examples, but us bigger girls deserve some rep on here (but also why is it so hard to find cute pics of mid/plus-size girlies that aren't ads or extremely edited?)

All rights go to owners of the photos! I tried to crop out their faces as best I could <3

John Price

Price would love anything feminine. He adores when you play into his housewife kink, parading around the house in babydoll dresses and fur-lined robes (preferably sheer). He wouldn't even bother with taking the pieces off once he gets his hands on you, simply pulling and adjusting where necessary. Not above ripping either, but don't worry, he'll gladly buy you some new sets. Maybe he should get you some of those crotchless panties, poppet, would save him a lot of hassle.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

Listen, as much as he loves it seeing you all dolled up, there is nothing that gets him going quicker than you in some raggedy, hole-ridden comfy clothes, preferably when they're his. His boxers framing your plump ass so nicely, digging into your flesh a bit when you move and his shirt doing nothing to hide the jiggle of your tits while your nipples poke through the fabric. If he sees you like this, his hands are all over you in a split second. God forbid your shirt is cropped, showing off your soft tummy and the underside of your breasts — you couldn't pry him off with a crowbar.

(you cannot tell me Johnny doesn't own some dumbass boxers like this)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

In fear of repeating myself, I think Simon would also go a little dreamy-eyed over you in your comfies. Except, unlike Johnny, he loves those sweet little pj-sets you wear. He's still a little taken aback every time he comes home to you curled up on his — your — couch. The realization that he has something this sweet to come home to — that he has a home at all, hitting him like a freight train. Like Price, doesn't bother taking your pajamas off when he pounces on you. Just makes it easier for him to tuck you into bed after he's done with you.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Garters, belts, straps, buckles, the whole thing. And best believe he's the one picking them out, too. You'll randomly find boxes on your bed, the contents in different styles, colours, fabrics. He insists you model them for him, or send him pictures if he's deployed. The sets are an absolute nightmare to get into, but he'll gladly help you take them off, darlin'. Don't mind him though, if he snaps a photo or two in the process. Also loves it when you wear lingerie as part of an actual outfit. What can I say, the man loves showing you off (with the knowledge he's the only one that gets to see the full sets and everything underneath them later).

König

Anything resembling some cheap halloween costume from party city. It honestly doesn't matter to him what; sexy secretary, naughty nurse, you name it. Literally whatever. He will lose his mind a little if you go as far as to engage in some roleplay pertaining to whatever you're wearing — acting like he's your boss or your patient. Oh, a pair of animal ears can and will make his eyes roll back in his head. (He will, however, ensure that your outfits are of relatively good quality — they've gotta outlast a least a few rounds, Schatzi).

Philip Graves

Ugh, he's so nasty (affectionate). He wants you to look hyper-feminine. His perfect little all-american wife (even if you've never set foot in the usa, or don't yet wear a ring on your finger) in her hyper-feminine lingerie, waiting for her soldier to come home. Frilly bras, lacy undies and silky night dresses in white or pink or any pastel shade. He gets off on the innocence they exude — makes him want to ruin you. And then wife you up. Maybe give you a baby or two.

Alejandro Vargas

Corsets!!! Or anything somewhat structured, really. This man adores the shape of your body no matter what, and the way the corset only accentuates the curve of your waist and pushes your tits up so deliciously has him rock fucking hard. If you choose to add some thigh-highs to that with the plush fat of your thighs spilling over the edge you may as well have killed him. He also has this weird infatuation with the marks the corset leaves on your skin after you (or he) take it off.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra

This poor man nearly faints the first time you wear lingerie for him (and pretty much every time after that). It doesn't particularly matter to him what it is, but he does like it when you stick to the classics: simple lacy bra and panty set. He likes that it makes you feel confident and (relatively) comfortable, as your comfort is always his number one priority. He also just thinks the simplicity of the sets helps accentuate the beauty of your body, rather than distract from it.

Valeria Garza

Anything expensive. Like, crazy expensive. She has the money, amor, why not spend it on something she enjoys? She'll make sure you only wear the highest quality fabrics (and that goes for all your clothing, by the way, she likes taking care of her girl). There are diamonds glittering all over your body, highlighting all your curves and twinkling with every move you make, and a nice string of pearls disappearing between your folds.

(I couldn't find ANY photos of this type of lingerie on bigger bodies, my apologies. Rest assured Valeria will get everything custom-made for you — remember, only the best for her girl)

[heavenbarnes]

Thinking of being Ghost's fiance and making invite the 141 over for dinner to finally meet them and he begrudgingly accepts because anything to make u happy and they're still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that he's engaged

mmm omg your mind 🫶🏼

finally getting older bf!simon to have the 141 around your dinner was the equivalent of pulling teeth.

come to think, pulling teeth would’ve been easier.

“well fuck me for wanting to meet the people the man i’m marrying spends 90% of his time with”

“sweet’art y’know i don’t like bringing work ‘ome”

then you’d gone and put your hands on your hips with just one (1) eyebrow raised-

and the lads were knocking at his fucking door.

“gidday- don’t fuckin’ start w’me”

“some bloody way to greet y’guests, big man”

as he corralled all their snide little remarks about “didnae know ye’ owned a nice shirt” everyone managed to find their best behaviour upon your appearance.

it might’ve had something to do with the stunned silence.

when he’d begrudgingly invited them, they’d all been in a little bit of shock- first of all, ghost had a fiancé? second of all, ghost is letting us into his home?

then it all round off with, third of all-

ghost’s fiancé was a fucking looker, that’s for sure.

sweet, nice, bloody easy on the eyes- how the hell had he managed that?

you were just happy to meet the closest things to friends that simon had.

price took lead by drawing you into a hug, thanking you for your hospitality. followed closely by a sweet talking gaz who was already making your cheeks warm with his manners.

naturally, johnny had to chime in with some stupid little-

“nae wonder L.t disnae want us knowing about ye’, i’d keep ye’ all t’maself too”

he’s too slow to avoid simon’s flat palm coming up the side of his head, but it doesn’t dissuade him much.

he’s peachy fucking keen to meet you.

simon eats his tea with a tense jaw, rolling his eyes every time someone makes you laugh a little too long, tells another ‘embarrassing’ story about him.

he also keeps his palm firmly on your knee, nervous twitch of a thumb running circles over your skin.

when you pop out to the kitchen to fix dessert, they’re on him like starved dogs.

“all this time and not so much as a bloody photo?”

“kinda’ photos i’m gettin’ aren’t f’you lots eyes”

johnny nearly falls out of his seat.

you can hear them whispering all the way from the kitchen, for a bunch of SAS guys- they’re not very subtle.

simon’s got one ear on the shit chatter coming from his team and the other on the kitchen, waiting for the slightest sign that he might be able to join you.

it comes- in the form of a gasp from you followed by “ow fuck”

simon’s out of his seat like a bullet.

“what’s wrong- what ‘ave y’done?”

you know the 141 are watching, doesn’t take a genius to see the way they’re all craning their necks around the kitchen doorframe.

“i’m fine, si- just a little burn from the pan”

“lemme’ see, gimme’ y’hand”

so the 141 see their ghost, unshakeable mountain of a man- a face they never see-

and they see his face, and they see genuine fear on it.

they see simon.

your simon.

“i’m telling you it’s fine, si”

“i’ll make that call, alright”

and they’re all looking at each other across the table, trying to decide whether to be impressed or even a little jealous- they’re leaning towards jealous.

so instead they settle on taking the absolute piss out of him.

not that he minds-

before you could even reach your chair he was pulling you into his lap- having you eat dessert perched on his thigh.

as you settle back into his chest, you could swear you feel him laugh.

that hand settles back on your knee again but there aren’t nervous circles anymore.

more like gentle squeezes.

your simon.

right at home.

[evercelle]

I've always been impressed by your ability to analyse media. Your understanding of characters, dynamics, themes have always blew me away, and it's even more impressive how you always find ways to communicate it so elegantly in your artworks. And being able to pick up on these complexities seems to have made engaging with media extra fulfilling for you.

I love seeing this kind of literary depth in fandoms, but I have the media literacy of a brick and have always had to rely on other people's analyses or takes to even begin understanding on that level. I was wondering if you know how you do it, or how anyone can learn to do it really.

btw thank you for always making such lovely art, hope you have a nice and fun year.

close reading is a skill, and like any skill it's something you can develop with effort!! the more you engage and think about a piece of work (and libraries of works) the more you'll get out of it

analysis at its core is inquiry and evaluation... when you're engaging the text ("text" here meaning the work itself whether it's literal text, artwork, movies, games, etc.) try breaking down ur thoughts:

what does the text want to say? -> what does the work want to accomplish? does it instill a narrative, a message, a feeling? teach a lesson? does it ask you a question? does it set up and fulfill or subvert expectations?

how does the text say it? -> what literary/visual techniques did the creator use to convey #1? what were you told versus what were you shown? what was implied vs explicated? does the work favor certain types of techniques or recurring motifs? are they aligned with specific characters or moments or themes?

how did you receive it? -> did the text succeed in conveying #1 via #2 to you? did it hit the mark, and to what degree? if it didn't: why not? if there's disparity between what the text seems to want to say and what you got from it--why and how?

there's so much more to analysis (e.g., for example, applying this framework to a text in context to history, or current events, or the genre; accounting for bias, on the part of the author or the reader; etc. etc.), but as a basic framework this might help to think about the text in large scale (the work as a whole) and then narrow it down (breakdown an arc in the story--a specific character's story--an individual moment in the story--etc).

i also think it's important to sit with a text and formulate ur own initial thoughts on it first before looking for other people's opinions! then you can read others' analysis too to see where it aligns or diverts from yours, what you agree or disagree with, what takeaways might change or enhance your own reading of the text. and then you can get RIGHTEOUSLY indignant when they dont understand ur blorbo the way you do

sorry for textwall HAHA but the more you practice close reading, the easier it gets to identify tropes and literary & artistic devices, and as your mental catalog expands, i think it'll become more fun to identify, compare and contrast what works/stories really resonate for you...! it's wonderful as a creator too, because you can reverse engineer that framework when you're telling your own stories ✨

[justporo]

Astarion would probably be super condescending about cute little displays of afffection at first.

Because that's the stuff happy couples did, people who didn't have to worry about anything, who didn't have to suffer and who could just be blissfully oblivious. He used to hate that.

And then for the stuff he had to do for the past 200 years it was mostly straight to the point, no need to be all lovey-dovey - and it would probably have only hurt more if he'd done that.

So when he gets into a relationship that continuously gives him butterflies, he still can't help to feel icky when Tav does those little things at first: grabbing his hand and squeezing it, rubbing a hand down his back, quick peck on the lips, the nose, the forehead, sitting next to him and snuggling up against his arm.

But he so desperately wants to enjoy it. He wants to be close to Tav - as close as possible and wallow in their warmth and love

Astarion catches himself thinking about it constantly how it feels: how he feels tension leave his body when Tav wraps their arms around them, how he feels himself become calmer under your touch, how even the tiniest bit of affection makes his undead heart ache with love for you.

It does feel nice, so wonderful - but it's hard to unlearn what kept you alive for such a long time.

But the longer he gets to revel in the simple joy of a short, warm touch of his loved one the easier it gets. Astarion finds he starts to yearn for Tav and their affection, craves them physically and that he gets impatient when he has to go without them for too long.

And it becomes the feeling of soft summer rain falling onto his face, the sound of soft winds rustling through tall grass and the trees, the sensation of a cat purring on his lap, the smell of flowers and herbs drifting into his nose, the moment of sinking onto a plush bed after a long day - it becomes his own piece of heaven he always thought he was denied.

It takes even longer though until he himself comes up to Tav and asks for that kind of interaction that give him so much inner peace. And the first time he grabs Tav's hand it might almost startle them from surprise, almost making Astarion drop the whole thing altogether. But this also gets easier. With time showing his affection and feeling alright with wanting to indulge in it becomes second nature.

And then one day, Astarion finds he engages in the affectionate little gestures so openly and without thinking as if he'd never struggled with that at all. He doesn't even notice anymore.

And Tav cries when they realise that, how far he's come, how much he's healed. And squeezes Astarion even harder to their heart.

Taglist: @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @azukiel @hereliesblackdragon

[leconcombrerit]

This thing had been rotting in my files for a year (minus three weeks but that's basically a year). It was a redraw of one of my first ever pieces for this fandom, and I still find it quite okay if a little stiff in places, so I thought I might as well share it since I don't draw that much anymore.

And then I had second thoughts, which obviously led to me posting it anyway, as you can see, but I realized I've almost made it a point not to draw anything related to Sasi anymore. As in at all. I can't, and I don't want to, and even sharing old art feels a bit 'meh'. It's too directly linked to my long going art block.

What I mean by that is that if I took all the followers I have out there and asked them what they know me or initially followed me for, you might have a fair amount of Lis 2 and the occasional Desert Bluffs afficionados, but you'd get an overwhelming majority of Sanders Sides. Sanders Sides fashion posts even. I was by no means famous for it or anything, but at my small artist scale, it was the biggest success I had.

And it makes it much harder to go back to it at all now. One, because I don't give a damn about the show anymore. Two, because I haven't been properly obsessing over anything in a while (there was a series early this year but given the actual emotional distress I get thinking about it I'm ruling it out). I haven't had real engagement from my own brain, nor real engagement from a broad audience -which makes sense, I'm not posting for anything that will reach a broad audience. But it takes its toll regardless.

Even when I finally finished writing a long fic, I couldn't help but feel 'all this for what ? Ten people or so and two hundreds have dropped it ?'. Which is a bad way to think about stuff you write for your own enjoyment but, you know, the brain gets happy with external validation even if you pretend really hard you don't care.

And so it feels tempting to go back to the golden goose just the time to get the creative juice pumping back, and I try, and I always end up frustrated and angry and feeling even less like making art that before. I'm not having fun with Sasi. Like an old friend you have nothing to say to and yet you have so much to say otherwise, so you get a bit frustrated, you know ? Not sure I'm making much sense, but that's how it feels. I want to have something like that again, but it won't be with Sanders Sides, and I somehow just want if off my radar.

It was left hanging, then lost its spark, and then I stopped caring altogether and I most likely won't even watch the finale when it does come out. I'm over it. I wish I wasn't though, because it does feel like the artistic spark won't come back all on its own this time, and the buzzing community made it so much easier to bounce back and do shit when your brain got wired all wrong.

It sounds like I'm just bawling after love and likes and stuff, and I guess that's part of it, in a way ? Like I'm in no place to do things for myself, and seeing the one thing I used to use to get back in the flow giving me a bored sense of dread doesn't feel too great.

Yet this drawing is still good ! I find it good ! I don't remember everything, but I can tell from the looks of it that I spent a while on it ! It's nice ! I should celebrate that. So I'm sharing it. I think it will be the last piece of Sasi I ever share, though. I'm not watching the finale when it comes out. I don't care about it. I'll just keep doodling my OCs and characters from cool books every once in a while. I'll write little things.

I just really, really need to stop trying to go back to it when it's clearly not working and not even for good reasons. It was a fun ride though ! So yeah. Basically. A whole ass rant for a one year old piece of art. I'm in my bi-annual depresso mood, nothing too surprising there.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hey,

I don't know if you're the right person to ask, but I wanted to try.

I've just been broken up with for the first time after two years together. We live together.

Right now I feel as if I'm dying. The emotional highs and lows are exhausting, and while I know I will probably be alright and I also have exams next week. I don't know how to focus on studying while my life feels like it's falling apart. I wish I could just take a week and surround myself with people to get away from this horribly empty, desperate feeling.

Oh, mate, I'm so sorry. Break ups actually launch you into a grieving process, so it's no surprise it's throwing you for a loop. Terrible timing before exams, too.

This is all going to be fairly broad advice, because I don't know your exact situation, but:

Given these timings, I would say that right now, you're kind of entering emergency mode. You're going to need to find time to process the break up, but until next week is over, you don't have time yet. So, first of all, is staying elsewhere for a week an option? Do you have friends you can stay with for that time, for example? Can you negotiate with your ex so you stay elsewhere for a couple of days, then they do, just to get exams out of the way? If this is an option, it's worth taking - it'll be a lot easier to handle both pressures if you can.

If not, I'd advise being a bit canny about how you structure your time. I'm assuming you're in university atm, and unis (over here, anyway) have late night/24 hour computer/study rooms. You can't stay in one, sure, but make use of it. You'll be able to focus far better on revision for exams in an academic space where you aren't surrounded by memories of your ex, and right now, you need to give yourself the best possible chance.

You know when you personally focus best, but studies suggest it's an hour or so after we wake up, whenever that is for you. If this is true for you, make a routine - in the morning you get up, get yourself ready, go to uni and study. Use whatever system you like for this (more in a bit). Plan one fun activity to go and do later, though - this could be a movie, dinner with friends, a nice walk, a few hours video gaming, whatever. Take the time to do it. Make sure you plan it in the morning, so you have something fun to look forward to later. This is an important step not to miss. Your brain needs the nice endorphins right now.

Study tips:

Rally friends and classmates. We're a social species - we learn better together. Test each other with flash cards, teach each other sections of material, just be next to each other while you both study.

Learning styles are a myth in the sense that people don't just fit into one style, but they are true in the sense that there are different ones and your brain will like some and not others. Find out your favoured blend, and then use the study techniques recommended for them.

Use Pomodoro! Study for 25 minutes, break for five minutes. In that break, physically get up and walk around. After four Pomodoros in a row, take half an hour break and do something fun. This is a good online timer to help you stick to it.

All of those are about engaging your brain as much as studying. But the other two pieces of advice:

Firstly, if you don't already know how and you're able to do it safely (i.e. you don't suffer from disassociation), try mindfulness/meditation. If you're finding the grief is intruding into your brain and you need to focus, do a five minute mindfulness session, then carry on.

And secondly: tell your student services. Tell them that you're mid-break up, still living with your partner, and you're worried about exams next week. Ask them what systems are available to help in case you do badly as a result. Tell your lecturers (or at least , whichever lecturers are relevant) the same.

The reason for this is to establish a safety net for yourself. When we have exam boards as lecturers, if a student's profile comes up and it's full of low marks or fails, the first question I get asked by the Academic Office is "Did they engage with us about the issue?" And if I can say yes, that student gets far more leniency.

Hopefully some of that is helpful. If you want to chat in a bit more detail, feel free to DM me. Good luck! And I hope you find peace soon.

[pinkglitterygelpen]

crows

summary, crows are known to gift small trinkets they find on their travels to those who have been kind to them, much like daryl always keeping an eye out for things he thinks you’ll like. (1.6k)

dear reader, happy birthday normi !!! this is based off that moment in season 4 where daryl picks up that jasper stone and stares at it for the rest of the episode, like the thoughtful and sensitive cutie he is. this is quite long and wordy and sadly self indulgent lol.

before the world ended, the concept of owning things was different. some people wanted to own the earth, other people didn’t want anyone to own anything at all. we owned things by paying for them with money, to be insured that it rightfully belonged to us. that, with most other civil systems, died a sudden and complete death.

that’s changed, whether it’s easier or even more difficult now is up for debate. most things we would classify as our own are things we need, things we’ve taken from the relics of a family home or abandoned store. it was painful for a while, scavenging felt dirty and disrespectful, like we’re tearing apart any remnants of the people who died so that we don’t have to. but, now, it’s been over a year and it’s more rationalised, it’s something we need to do to survive.

some people thought the forgotten world had become a grave yard, but you saw it like a museum. even though most people had disappeared, their belongings immortalised them, a simple symbol of the life they once lived. knowing you might be the last person on this earth to take notice of the wedding photos and framed certificates made you feel a sort of comfort, acknowledging their existence maybe meant they could acknowledge yours and understand you’re only picking them apart to live on for the people that weren’t that lucky.

you’d accumulated a small collection of memories that didn’t belong to you, lockets and city magnets you knew where once treasured by someone else, too precious to be left abandoned. they rested in a beige shoe box in your cell. no one really knew about it, except for daryl.

not only was he the one you went on runs with, so he’d seen you picking up the small memorabilia; he also found himself in your cell quite frequently, nosing around. he’d never admit but he was always seeking out your comfort, when he couldn’t be with you he’d surround himself with you. reading your books, cleaning your guns, laying on your bed.

a while ago you came back from a quick job with carol to find him hunched over your makeshift dresser, carefully lifting thing out the box to look at them in the light. you didn’t try and explain it to him because you knew you didn’t have to, he might not have completely understood why you kept what he thought was junk but he didn’t mind to. you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your cheek between his shoulders; he thinks it’s beautiful, how much love you have for everything.

“makes me sad.” he speaks low, only for you. holding what looks like it could’ve been an engagement ring you found in a nightstand next to a bed containing the corpse of a woman.

“doesn’t have to.” lifting your head to place your chin on his shoulder, getting a better look what he’s holding. he turns his head, lips almost touching your cheek, waiting for you to continue.

“you don’t have to see it as love that’s been lost, it’s proof of love after loss.” there’s a beat of silence before he places the ring back in the box and turns in your arms, holding your head to his chest.

“that’s nice.” you don’t see his face and he doesn’t say anything else, you don’t know what he’s feeling but you never have to with daryl. he’s not good with words but he lets you know in other ways, the things you need to know.

the next day he went on a run with some of the men to clear out a small cottage they’d came across deep in the trees. shuffling through cabinets and draws to find any supplies worth lugging back to prison, daryl found a small porcelain bunny, something a grandma would keep. only around four inches tall with minimal detail and a blue floral pattern on its back. after making sure no wandering eyes had found him, he secured it safely in the front pocket of his trousers to give to you when he got back. as always, he found you tentatively lingering near the gates for his arrival and he felt a spark go right through his heart. when he held your hand in his and placed the token of affection in your palm, there was no telling who was happier. you understood that him thinking about you even when he was supposed be working and remembering your little quirks was his way of showing love. he understood that he’d steal a thousand small bunnies to make you happy.

from that point on, he was never not looking for things to bring to you. he was particular about if the nick knacks where good enough sometimes, other times he’d bring you actual stones he thought where coolly shaped or extra smooth. every once in a while, when he was feeling particularly emotional or you’d been extra close, he’d be super sentimental. coming up with stories for them or attaching a specific symbolism. like today, he found a jasper stone.

as soon as the pretty green chip of rock caught his eye he reached to the ground to pick it up. whipping the dirt off with the pads of his fingers, being conscious of his strength he so often disregarded as to not damage it. he heard michonne huff out a sarcastic comment and gave a half-assed response but really he wasn't focused on any conversation. too busy thinking about what it meant, he never had time for the spiritual and cooky phases others went through but he knew people used believe these kind of rocks had meaning. he had no idea where to start with it but he was sure you probably did. it was a long day of work, he would so much rather be in his home with you, he must have pulled the rock out of his pocket thirty times to think about what you'd have to say about it when he showed you.

"hey." he greeted you simply after watching you from behind for a few seconds, folding clothes at the laundry station.

"hey. how was it?" you reply with a smile, trying not to reveal the anxiety that you felt for him every time he was away from you and outside the walls, failing by giving into your initial instinct to grabs his cheeks and inspect him for any injuries. he soothes your hearts aches with one kiss your palm and small smile.

"'m fine." he waits a pause to take you in before reaching into his pocket to pull out the rock. "look what i found." he watches your face light up immediately when you see it, what he's anticipated all day. "i think its jasper. definitely real though, found it in the dirt, near some water. there's probably more, i could always look." most of what he says sounds like a question, getting shy only because he wants you like his small gift. you look up from inspecting the stone to catch his eyes, leaning in for a short but rich kiss. "if you'd like."

"thank you." he nods awkwardly, head down to conceal his growing smile. "well, its definitely jasper." you hold the stone to his temple, he just stares into your eyes as you compare your thoughts. "matches your eyes."

shying away even more now, reaching up to rub his palm over his face, unable to accept the simple yet bold flattery. "don't do that." he grumbles out the statement in an effort to avoid the all too familiar distaste any praise causes him, years of abuse and neglect conditioning him to believe he doesn't deserve it. you see it written all over his face and it causes a crack through our heart, using the back of the hands holding the stone to brush his cheek, you wont stop loving him until he believes it.

"this's very thoughtful of you, ill find a good place for it." you wrap your arms around his neck, elbows on his shoulders, chest to his, undoubtedly a nosy pair of eyes watching from somewhere close by. you kiss his cheek like you've done a thousand times before, lips placing a protective layer over his precious skin and delicate soul. he wants to give into you so bad, lay his head over your heart and let you bury him in your arms forever, but he's just not there yet. he hopes that somehow you understand what he's telling you through all his efforts to find nice things for you. he doesn't know it, but you do.

he leans back from your embrace, just far enough to look into your eyes but still bask in your warmth. "do you know what it means?", almost embarrassed of his statement he speaks quietly.

"i remember my grandmother hanging a jasper stone she'd bought in the shape of a heart over my bedroom door when i was a teenager, 'said it would give me strength through changes and new beginnings, she had loads." its silent for a few seconds, the sounds of the prison fill in the blanks. carl kicking up a fuss about something, rick telling him off, carol bashing pots and pans around as she cleans, glen stomping on the gravel. its a welcome moment of peace, everyone can only hope lasts till tommorow.

"i like that." the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. his hands coming to rest on your back, rubbing up and down as he takes in his environment. "maybe we hang this over the door to the cell?" he looks at you expectantly, you smile back at him and nod your head. leading each other to the block holding hands, the little rock safely between them.

the world is surely lacking in its comforts, you're one of the lucky ones to have still be able to love. wherever he goes, whatever he sees, he'll remember that and carry it with him. his tiny trinkets he brings home to you carry an amount of affection no one can bother to measure, its beautiful and its yours.

[charmedreincarnation]

I shifted using the void state!

I'm getting straight to the point because I know people don't like long success stories, but I used these two posts to finally shift to my desired reality and manifest my dream life.

Rotten’s Practical Guide to Shifting Realities

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zgrhCYyct7xV4j7d7qYFcoO8bAMx5Jqdb3NGoO81Oqs/edit

Reddit Post: The Power of the Void State

https://www.reddit.com/r/shiftingrealities/s/XMIo5TPYlM

Anyways, when I learned about the void state on Reddit, I was instantly captivated. I mean, who wouldn't be? The idea of not only using it for shifting but also manifesting my dream life for myself and my family felt like a dream come true. That's when I came across the second post I shared about the void state, and eventually, the first document I shared. They were incredibly informative and completely changed my perspective on shifting and the law of the universe.

I went on to stalk many of the recommended success stories on Reddit, exploring posts and comment sections that mentioned you. You seemed to be a common denominator in their journeys, helping them shift or guiding them with your posts. It made me happy to see your positive influence, even though your posts were from years ago and it seemed like you no longer have an account. Unfortunately, many other creators' posts were either inactive or banned due to Reddit's strict rules which is really annoying.

However, someone made a post about you, and one of your friends ended up commenting with your Tumblr account. So, I gathered a lot of valuable information from your account and a few others (like Fleur, Pink, Rem, Sexy Dream Girl, etc.) on Tumblr.

I must say, the Tumblr shifting and void community is miles ahead of Reddit and Amino. I was shocked that I hadn't come across this community before. Reddit is just starting to talk about the Law of assumption and the void, whereas you guys have been immersed in it for years. I even encountered some misconceptions on Reddit, where people still think the void can only be used for shifting and not for waking up in a whole new life. 🙄

Regardless, finding this app was the motivation I needed, and I discovered so much valuable information. I ended up using your theta wave method, combined with the first Reddit post I sent, to enter the void and shift to my dr. It's truly mind-blowing how easy it all was.

I can vouch for this process. All you need are the two Reddit posts I shared, as the guide is highly regarded within the shifting community, along with a few trustworthy Tumblr bloggers. I've been part of the shifting community since 2017, so I've seen it all, and I managed to shift within just two and a half weeks of finding these resources. Even though I was struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts, I realized it doesn't have to hinder your journey.

I wanted to share my experience here, and I might make a post on Reddit too. However, they have become stricter with success stories due to anti-troll measures, and it takes weeks to even months for anything to be processed. So, I wanted to share my journey here first.

I also recommend this: https://www.reddit.com/r/shiftingrealities/s/daFCQdyHim because it helped me understand what shifting really is. Manifesting too!

Lastly I'm 26 years old, and I've noticed that Reddit tends to have a more adult audience compared to Tumblr. At first, it felt nice to be surrounded by fellow adults discussing shifting. On the other hand, seeing Tumblr mostly filled with teens and younger adults made me wonder if it's easier for them, especially without the weight of responsibilities that often come with age.

But let me tell you, age is not a factor that determines our success in shifting. Whether you're 13 or 55, it doesn't matter. This is something we can all engage in, no matter our age.

Sure, there might be some challenges that come with getting older. As we accumulate more life experiences, doubts tend to creep in, and we become more logical. But guess what? Those doubts and logical thinking don't define our ability to shift realities. They are simply hurdles for us to overcome.

Hi love! I've spent some time going through all the resources you shared, and they've been incredibly helpful! Actually i have seen that guide in so many places, and it's truly enlightening. Thank you for sharing these amazing tools with us!

And yes, I wholeheartedly agree with what you said. age and doubt really do have no place in our journey they really don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

I used to engage with @theastralplaneandbeyond5487 on Amino and Reddit too. He also has an informative YouTube channel and is in his 50s, I believe. His experiences and insights are rlly helpful and further show that age is just a number in this journey.

His journey showed me that we can do whatever we we want , regardless of our age. It's a beautiful reminder that we're all capable of creating and experiencing whatever we want 🩵

Also omg my Reddit era in 2021 was so fun. I’m glad it’s still helping people though my views have definitely evolved :D!

[mssorceressupreme]

Hiii

I heard your requests were open 👀👀👀

Your writing is sooo amazing, it's addictive, like I can't get enough 😩🤚

Could I request a Minho X reader, reader is from Maze B, superrr close with Aris, and she's confident, sassy, sarcastic, loud and laughs a lot, total morale booster, she also cracks a lot of that's what she said jokes.

Since she's close W Aris, the boys might get the wrong idea and think they're a thing, but they clarify they're not lmao

You can ignore this request if you want, I just think you write so good, and so many people would love to read smth like this, I feel like some authors forget they're just teenagers ykwim?

It's so nice to see active Maze Runner blogs, especially when they write so bomb like you 😘

I hope you have a good day, never stop writing ♥️♥️♥️

Of course love, I’d be more than happy to write this for you 🥹❤️❤️❤️ Thank for the kind words, it really keeps me motivated, you’re such an angel 😭😭🫶🏼🫶🏼 Hope you have a great day too lovely!! 😘🥰 (also so sorry for the delayed post, I’ve been so busy with assignments lately 😭 I hope this satisfied your prompt 💓)

Who is She?

Pairing: Minho x Reader

Summary: Sparked with curiosity, Minho follows you one day. And your relationship takes a turn.

Warnings: none really, it’s a sweet imagine I like to think

——

The dining hall was a strange blend of sterile and vibrant. It was filled with chatter and the clinking of cutlery, the usual dinner routine. To you it was the most ‘normal’ atmosphere in this whole facility, the only time you felt sane. At least people weren’t shoving needles in your face, or interrogating you.

At one of the tables, the boys from maze A—Thomas, Minho, Newt, Frypan and Winston—sat together, their eyes scanning the room occasionally while engaging in conversation.

They were still trying to figure this new place out, especially the people in it. One of those people was you, confident in spirit and as sassy as can be, currently sitting with Aris. But they didn’t know his name, he was just a quiet kid to them, or your “boyfriend”, or so they thought.

“Whatever, I could take on 50 of those guards at once, they look like they’ve got no balls.” You sneered, while chewing on your food.

“Keep it low Y/N, we don’t want anyone overhearing us.” Aris warned.

“If I could set this whole place on fire, I would, but Stella won’t let me do shit. Don’t you think it’s time we try to escape?!” You huffed. Stella, one of the girls from maze B, was the bossiest girl you’ve ever came across. (aka the Gally of Maze B, before his redemption lol)

Mind you, she’s only alive to this day because you saved her from a griever…unfortunately. Sometimes you wished you left her in the maze.

Aris sighed, he too, disliked Stella. “Anyway, you should eat up. You’ve barely eaten since we got here.”

You slide your plate over to him, “Today’s your lucky day, I’m not hungry.”

He shrugged and began indulging in this second helping. Aris wasn’t much of a eater but boy, this is the first time you guys have had real food and he wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity.

“Look! An opening, I’m going to check it out.” You whispered, standing up as the guards walked away from their previous post.

“Y/N! Get back here!” Aris whisper-yelled, but you were determined to get through the other side of that door.

——

“Where is she going?” Minho observed as you made your way towards the door.

“Who?” Winston swiftly turned around, accidentally knocking over a cup of water in the process.

Newt chuckled, while Minho pressed his lips together. “Sorry, Minho!” Winston exclaimed, grabbing napkins.

“You’re alright man. I’ll be back.” Minho gave Winston a reassuring back tap, before leaving to find the bathroom. Or, maybe he just wanted to follow you.

——

You managed to get past the doors. This was a way easier attempt than anticipated, you thought to yourself but shrugged it off.

However, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being followed. Regardless, you didn’t care, the only thing that mattered was finding out what these people were really behind.

You halted your tracks, observing your surroundings. It seemed to be a never ending grey hallway with millions of doors, great, that makes it sooo much easier for you doesn’t it!

As Minho turned a corner, he bumped into you, nearly knocking you over.

“Woah, watch it!” You exclaimed, steadying yourself.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there!” Minho was quick to defend himself.

You furrowed your brows, the newcomer from maze A. “Were you…following me?”

Minho scoffed, “Pft of all the people here, why’d you think I’d follow you.”

You shot him a look, “Oh come on, I’ve seen you newbies. You guys watch Aris and I like a hawke.”

One of the doors dinged, about to open, so Minho quickly reacted by pulling you by the waist into one of the tiny cracks in the hallway walls, adequate enough to fit two people.

“Stop touching me!” I grunted, pushing his hand away.”

“I’m barely even on you!” He retorted.

“Why were you following me anyway?!” I whispered, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I had to use the bathroom! I’m wet if you can’t tell!” He responded, but it came out a bit too wrong. Minho immediately regretted how that sounded.

You held back your laugh, “That’s what she said.”

With a tiny bit of banter, Minho managed to break down your walls, all too quickly, something you weren’t really used to.

“So what are you up to anyway? Sneaking around like you own the compound.” Minho smirked, while keeping an eye out for any guards.

“I’ve seen them move bodies in and out of here like clockwork. Aris and I don’t trust these people.”

Minho’s eyes narrowed. “Oh yeah? You should get back to your boyfriend then. I don’t think he’d be pleased to know you were in a confined space with another man.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh, no. Aris isn’t my boyfriend. He’s more like a brother to me.”

There was a moment of silence as you stared at each other, the air thick with tension. Before either of you could say more, you heard footsteps. A guard was coming your way.

Minho quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you into what seemed like a nearby closet, closing the door behind you. You stood close together in the dark, barely daring to breathe.

The guards footsteps echoed past you and faded away, earning an exhale from the both of you.

“That was close,” You whispered, “and wow here we are in another ideal place to be in right now.” Boy, you are one sarcastic girl, Minho thought.

“I know I love it here.” Minho’s breath warm against your neck.

In the confined space, your proximity made every small movement noticeable. He could feel the heat radiating off you, and your scent was intoxicating. You looked up at him, your eyes reflecting the dim light filtering through the cracks in the door.

“Why did you really follow me?” You asked, voice soft but filled with curiosity.

Minho hesitated, then decided honestly was the best approach. “I don’t know. I guess I was curious. You seem like someone we could trust, Thomas doesn’t trust the people here either.”

“Thomas?”

“Grey shirt, brown hair?” Minho described him, hoping I would recognise him.

“Ah yes, I saw his little incident yesterday. Attempting to fight a guard in the dining hall is daring, he’s got some balls.”

“Sure does.”

“You seem to know the place really well, we could learn a thing or two from you.” Minho added.

You smiled, a genuine one that made Minho’s heart skip a beat, “Well, maybe we both have a lot to learn about each other.”

Minho could see the flicker of something more in your eyes, a spark that mirrored his own feelings. He leaned in slightly, feeling the magnetic pull between them.

Before anything could happen, the reality of your situation came crashing back. You couldn’t afford to get distracted, not with so much at stake.

“We should get back,” you whispered, though your eyes said you didn’t want to move.

Minho nodded reluctantly, “Yeah, we should before anyone finds us here.”

You carefully slipped out of the closet, the hall now silent and empty. As you made your way back together, Minho couldn’t help but feel a new sense of determination.

You were in this together now, and he would do whatever it took to protect you and figure out a way out of her.

“Yo, Aris!” You called out as you re-entered the dining hall. Aris gave you a questioning glance, as you appeared with Minho, you simply nodded, signalling that you were fine.

Minho returned to his friends, who eyed him curiously.

“What happened?” Thomas asked.

“Just…getting to know our new friend.” Minho said, glancing back at you. You were already back at your table with Aris, but you shot him a quick, knowing smile.

Minho then gestured for you and Aris to come join them which you did.

“Don’t be shy, you can sit next to me if you’d like.” Minho smirked, gesturing to the empty seat beside him.

You scoffed, “As if.” But you bit your lip, hiding back a smile.

“Careful, her boyfriend might not like that.” Newt warned, glancing at Aris to see his reaction.

“Oh no no, we’re not a thing.” Aris was quick to respond, “She’s like a sister to me.”

You chuckled, “Besides, I’m more into leaders, I like a guy who can lead.”

“Someone like me?” Minho teased.

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah you wish. Who was the one leading you around just now?”

“Uh actually, if I can recall, it was me who had the reigns.” He hummed, smiling when he saw you get all worked up.

“Stand down maze boy, this is my terrain. You guys want a way out, Aris and I can help you.”

“Alright, so what’s the plan?” Thomas agreed, leaning in closely.

Minho shot you a smile, and you returned it, thought a bit cocky, he did manage to grow on you or whatever.

And for the first time, you actually felt a spark of hope. With extra manpower, you might be able to break out of this place.

You might be in a dangerous situation, but at least you weren’t alone. And Minho knew deep down, that together, you could face whatever came next, for once, everyone at that table felt hopeful.

The safe haven felt closer, and so did your friendship with Minho. But could this friendship blossom into something more, you often pondered.

Perhaps so.

You smiled, watching as Minho lead the next discussion. You could get use to this, it felt nice to be relaxed and not take the lead for once.

[anonallalong]

Shopping spree

Yn x Gideon Gemstone

This may be bad I’ve never done Yn before but I will get better I promise! Hope yall like this.

Yn and Amber go on a shopping spree and yn comes home with a few surprises for Gideon.

Staring out the window I watch as we pass familiar greenery; it was a perfect sunny South Carolina day. Though most of the day was spent inside Charleston’s finest mall, accompanied by your fiancé’s fabulous mother. Amber had been begging me to go out with her for a wardrobe upgrade, stating that because now I was officially joining the family, I had to get more “public-facing and influential clothes,” whatever that meant…but I figured It would be nice to get out of the house. Gideon had recently taken his interest in preaching to the next level, and it hadn’t been going so well. He hasn’t been the best at hiding his disappointment either. So whatever her reasoning, I was just happy to get out and be spending time with her. As much as I loved my mother, she wasn’t as glamorous as Amber, often telling me I needed to dial it back/tone it down. But Amber always encouraged my flamboyance. The day was something out of a movie, the two of us trying on dress after dress, finding the perfect jewelry & shoes to match. Laughter following a childhood story about Gideon or when I would crack a well-timed joke. Eventually I had to tap out, still new to this shopping game. Despite obviously having all the energy in the world left, Amber decided to go home with me. Leading us to now, relaxing in the car, I stretched out, enjoying the heated seats warming my sore hips.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m just so happy you came out with me.”

I shift slightly to face her. “Thank you for convincing me to go. I forgot how nice this could be… It’s fun to indulge every so often.”

Amber smiled at me, her lips pursed with a slight glint in her eyes.

“You know I’ve always wanted a daughter to do things like this with. I thank the Lord every day you found my Gideon.”

I freeze at her words. Amber may not be a Gemstone by blood, but she has that unique talent for gut-punching people with affection out of the blue. I look down, fiddling with my diamond ring, grinning.

“I didn’t find Gideon; he found me. We make each other better…… And Amber, I love being your daughter.”

With a shake of her head and a satisfied smile, our deep conversation was over. Going back to light conversation, some wedding talk, discussing the clothes we had just bought, eventually settling into a comfortable silence…… Finally seeing the large entrance gates to the Gemstone compound, I start gathering all the bags around me in an attempt to make my trip a little easier. Although we were just engaged, Jesse and Amber were more relaxed with Gideon and I living together. Originally, I laid down ground rules that I had to leave every night before one, and I did for a while; now we all just pretend I still do. I feel the car pull Into the gravelly driveway and grab everything I can.

“Y/n, honey, you don’t need to do all that; we can have Nathaniel help you.” Amber chides with a wave of her hand. Before I can protest, Nathanial is stepping out of the passenger seat and grabbing my bags. Giving him a thankful nod, I turned back to Amber in the car.

“Thank you so much for today; it was just what I needed.”

“Anytime, sweetheart, anytime, and I better be seeing those outfits next Sunday.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Still holding a few bags of my own, I open the front door and lead Nathaniel in. Telling him he can just drop the rest at the bottom of the stairs so I can take them up later. After a few trips, I finished moving all the bags. I wandered out to find Gideon. After a quick sweep in the obvious rooms, I figured he was still in the office.

“Baby, I’m home.” I push open the door. He's in the same spot I left him, rewatching the recording of his last sermon and trying to rework his slides. I pout slightly, looking at Gideon; he’s been stressing about redeeming himself next week. I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his neck, giving him a light peck on his temple.

“Gid…. What are you doing?”

“Looking at my sermons for next week.” responding but not truly breaking his focus, “I think where I went wrong is that I hadn’t fully memorized my slides, so I was kind of flying blind, you know.”

I pull his chair back to sit in his lap and reach over to close his computer. “Mmh, you know what I think.”

“I was…babe… I was working on that.”

Putting my hand over his mouth, I silence his rehearsed protest. I knew he was tired; he knew he was tired, but in true Gideon fashion, he would rather pass out from exhaustion than willingly take a break.

“I think you’ve been working on that a little too long...and I think you should take a break so I can show you all my new clothes.”

I grabbed his face, pulling it towards me, rubbing my thumbs under his tired eyes. He glanced over at the computer and then looked back at me. Giving me a crooked smile.

“Darlin I think you may be right.”

“I just know you so well.”

“Well, come on, don’t keep me waiting.”

I drag him upstairs and sit him on the bed, looking like he saw a ghost when he registered all the bags on the floor.

“Omg, Y/N, how long were you gone?”

“Around 3 hours; your mom can be very persuasive when shopping.”

“I know that….how much did you all get?” Rubbing the back of his head, I watched as his stress crept in. Not on my watch. Putting my bags down I faced him.

“Baby, relax. I’m literally about to get changed in front of you like a bunch of times. And if you don’t pay attention, I’ll have to make you sleep on the couch, so…” multitasking and undressing while I talk to him.

“The couch!? In my own home”

“It’s my home too, lover,” wiggling my ring at him. “Now pay attention…first we have this one,” holding out one of the flowy sundresses I had bought before slipping it on and giving a twirl. Then I pull out the jewelry and shoes I got to match the dress. I repeated this process for the next few outfits. Filling him in about each item and why I bought it.

“Wait try that last one again, baby; I really liked it”

“Gid, we just finished the sundress section. I can’t go back. We have to keep going; there are, like, 6 more bags.”

“Wasn’t this for me to destress and enjoy myself? Well, I’ll enjoy you in that dress again, and it will distract me from the stress of those 6 more bags.”

“Yes and yes, but we must push on…. These are going to be your favorite, I promise.” Already opening another shoe box, I blow him a kiss, pulling out the shiny black pumps. “Wait, close your eyes!! It needs to be a surprise.”

“It's a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Not the shoes, the rest of it!!”

“Alright, whatever you say, sweetheart.” He closed his eyes and pulled his hands up for good measure. I scrambled to get dressed, pulling on the navy blue halter dress, before I added my new gold necklace and earrings, each with a sapphire pendant to complement the dress. Finally, I slipped on the pumps. Gideon still covered his eyes but smiled at the sound of my heels clicking around the room as I pulled another outfit out of the bags and laid it out on the chair to my right.

“Surprise! Isn’t it perfect?” I back up, holding my hands together, hopeful he loves it as much as I do. Opening his eyes and looking me up and down, smiling even wider.

“You look so beautiful, baby. Whatever you spent was worth it. You look perfect. I…”

“Not me, nerd. I know I look fantastic, but thank you anyway, baby. I mean that.” I pointed to the chair next to me, laid out with a navy blue blazer, shirt, and pants, with new black loafers and a simple gold chain. He didn’t exactly give me the reaction I was hoping for; he kind of just stood there looking at everything.

“Baby… could you say something, please? Well, maybe don’t if you hate it because I got, like, 4 more matching outfits, and it’s going to hurt my feelings.”

“You got us matching outfits?” He finally spoke; he did just restate what I had said, but it was still something. Then his face changed, and he gave me that special look when his face got twisted up in that lovesick puppy mixed with a madman’s grin look.

“Y/N I love it so much. I love you so much….”

“I knew you were feeling nervous about this new preaching position, but Gid, you are amazing, so I thought you should have a nice new wardrobe for church. You know, show everyone how handsome and amazing you are. Then I thought I should match you so everyone knows you’re mine. Plus there were like a bunch of things I still wanted, so it worked out perfectly.”

“You are the best future wife in the world, you know that, right?

“I did know that, but I may need some reminding,” I say, looking into his grateful eyes with a slight smirk.

“I have an idea on what might help you remember, but you might need to ditch the dress,” leaning in as he spoke. I kiss him softly before pulling back, patting him. On the chest

“Don’t be silly. I still have more dresses to try on, and now you can try on your new clothes too.”

“I-“ Gideon grunts out, shocked I teased him.

I laugh, throwing him a white button-up with little black dots over it. “Come on, lover boy, we can’t be wasting time….you have things to attend to after this.” I give him a wink, slipping into another dress…. I had never seen him put on a suit so fast.

[wholoveseggs]

Truth or Dare?

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

You find yourself at a party you don't really want to be at. You meet the Mikaelson siblings and a game of truth or dare unfolds, revealing your secret and sparking a connection that changes the course of the night.

~HumanAU where the Mikaelsons are all 20-25ish. It just makes more sense that way... Because why would old-ass vampires be at a college party?~

5k words - Warnings: drinking, praise, oral sex, loss of virginity, Kol and Klaus being immature.

You weren't quite sure what prompted you to attend this party; typically, you preferred the comfort of home. Maybe it was the monotony of spending too much time within the familiar walls of your apartment, and your instincts nudged you towards a change of scenery.

However, upon arrival, the desire to leave struck you immediately. The music was terrible and too loud, and the stench of sweat and alcohol was overpowering. And most importantly, your confidence was lacking. You didn't know anyone and weren't really sure why you wanted to attend in the first place.

So, naturally, you did what you always do at these uncomfortable events: drink.

The tequila was the only thing keeping your sanity intact, and by your fourth shot, you felt yourself loosen up. Your inhibitions were lowered, and a warm buzz settled in the pit of your stomach.

You wandered into the living room, sitting down on the sofa with a group of people, they all seemed to know each other and were engaged in a conversation you didn't follow. But that was okay, the liquor made everything easier.

"Hi, I haven't seen you around here before, what's your name?" Said a pretty blonde woman with a kind smile.

"I'm Y/N, nice to meet you." You introduced yourself, shaking her hand.

"I'm Rebekah, and this is my boyfriend Marcel, and my brother's Elijah and Kol." She said, gesturing to each man in turn.

Marcel and Kol appeared pleasant, but Elijah was another matter entirely. The moment your gaze locked with his, you felt captivated. He wasn't just handsome; he was stunning. His warm, soft eyes and the way he smiled made your stomach flutter. 

As Rebekah spoke about something, you struggled to concentrate, Elijah was a distraction you couldn't look away from. He could tell, and his knowing smirk made your cheeks redden. You quickly averted your gaze and looked at Rebekah. She didn't seem to have noticed the exchange between you and her brother, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

Another man walked into the living room, holding a bottle of bourbon and a few glasses. He had blonde curly hair, and the same mischievous twinkle in his eye as Kol.

"Move over Kol, you are in my spot," he said, plopping down onto the sofa next to him. He started pouring the drinks before looking up and noticing you.

"Who are you? I don't believe we have met, love."

"She's a new friend, Nik." Rebekah interrupted before you could answer.

"It's a pleasure." He said with a devilish grin, you could tell he was trouble.

As the conversation continued, you found yourself growing more and more comfortable. Everyone was friendly, and although you didn't contribute much, they were all very welcoming.

"Okay, I'm bored, let's play a game!" Rebekah suggested, looking around the circle.

"Let's play truth or dare," Kol suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

"That's a bit juvenile, isn't it?" Elijah asked, and Kol glared at him.

"Come on, Elijah. You are no fun, live a little." Rebekah piped up, and Elijah shrugged, agreeing.

"Okay, Klaus, truth or dare?" Rebekah asked.

"Dare," he replied, taking a swig of bourbon.

"Okay, I dare you to..." she trailed off, trying to think of an appropriate dare. "Send a nude pic to that girl, uh- Cami."

"Already did that today, dear sister," Klaus replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink.

Rebekah rolled her eyes at her brother's behavior. "I thought you were classier than that," she teased.

"It was at her request," He answered with a chuckle, shrugging his shoulders. “I can send her another one if you want,” he offered with a grin.

"I'm good, thanks," Rebekah responded with a laugh.

Klaus called on Marcel, "Truth or dare, Marcellus,"

"Dare, always." Marcel responded, a challenging smirk tugging at his mouth.

"Okay," Klaus chuckled, rubbing his hands together. "I dare you to moon whoever comes into the living room next,"

"Challenge accepted." He replied, cracking a grin, and raising his glass in a toast.

A poor unsuspecting party goer got more than he bargained for when Marcel dropped his trousers and mooned him when they wandered into the room. He yelled in horror and ran out as the living room erupted with laughter.

"Okay, my lovely girl, truth or dare?" Marcel asked, kissing Rebekah on the cheek.

"Truth." She smiled back.

"Where was the craziest place you have had sex," he said, unable to control his laughter.

"I rather not know that," Kol interjected, shuddering visibly,

"Relax," Rebekah laughed. "I always keep it classy, unlike Nik over there."

She pondered the question for a moment.

"In a pool," She finally answered with a sly smile.

"Spectacular, I love learning about my siblings sex lives," Elijah muttered sarcastically under his breath, clearly irritated by the games.

You didn't like them either, you couldn't relax and enjoy the fun. If they asked you any questions about your sex life, or lack of one, your shame and embarrassment would swallow you whole.

"It's your turn dear, truth or dare?" Rebekah asked, breaking you out of your inner musings.

"Oh um, dare," You answered, you didn't feel brave enough to choose truth.

"I dare you to uh—kiss who you find most attractive here,"

Your face flushed and your heart leapt into your chest. You studied them all closely, and while all four men were very handsome, there was only one who made your pulse race and your body tremble.

You slowly leaned in and pressed your lips to Elijah's cheek, he smelled like pine trees and a hint of cologne. His skin was soft and warm against your lips, and he turned slightly, making your mouth graze the corner of his. Your face reddened, and you pulled away.

"Is that the best you can do, darling?" Kol interjected.

"Leave her be, Kol," Elijah responded, a faint smile pulling at his mouth.

"I think she should have to go again, a kiss on the cheek doesn't count," Klaus responded.

Embarrassment surged through your chest, intensifying the urge to flee the room. The alcohol heightened every emotion, amplifying the unpleasant feelings of humiliation.

"I'm not going to make her kiss anyone," Rebekah insisted, growing annoyed.

"This is supposed to be fun," Marcel agreed, and Kol rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his drink.

"Then do a truth instead," Kol insisted, unwilling to let it drop. "I would like to know her secrets."

"Fine, truth." You whispered, and the entire room grew quiet, everyone eager to learn more about the mysterious newcomer.

"How many people have you been with?" Rebekah asked, voice sympathetic, she was trying to go easy on you, not knowing about the secret you were holding inside.

"Uh...I... Uhm.." you stammered.

"Come on, either you haven't kept track of the number or there isn't one at all," Klaus chimed in, nudging Kol with his shoulder and snickering.

"There isn't a number." You whispered, your face warm from embarrassment.

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean," Kol asked, looking back and forth at his siblings, before his gaze landed on yours, confusion written all over his face.

"Shut up Kol!" Rebekah chided, looking at you apologetically.

"She's a virgin, you idiotic git, leave her alone," Klaus mumbled under his breath, sipping from his burbon and ignoring the nasty look that Kol sent his way.

The silence in the room was deafening, the shock on their faces was almost comical. They didn't mean to hurt your feelings, but the humiliation and shame was overwhelming. You felt like a freak, your face was flushed, and the tears were threatening to spill over.

Marcel cleared his throat awkwardly, he tried to give you a reassuring smile, but he didn't seem to know what to say.

"Well," He stated, interrupting the silence. "It's your turn to ask Kol," He smiled at you, hoping it would ease your embarrassment.

You contemplated leaving but knew you'd draw even more attention to yourself. You decided to use this chance to get back at Kol.

"I dare you to go out into the backyard, strip naked and yell at the top of your lungs that you love Nik,"

"Ooh, she is ruthless," Klaus exclaimed, laughing, the alcohol had loosened him up.

"But you're my brother, I can't." He argued.

"It's the rules," Klaus chimed in.

Kol reluctantly agreed, and the six of you made your way outside. It was dark, and no one was back there, it would be easy for him to complete the dare and not get caught.

"I hope someone is out here and hears this," You giggled, enjoying watching Kol squirm.

He removed his clothes and stood naked in the yard, yelling at the top of his lungs,

"I love you, Niklaus."

He returned to the house, and his siblings howled with laughter, and you had tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I hate you all," He muttered, and they continued to tease him.

Kol gave you a glare, and Elijah was looking at you intently, a smile playing upon his face. Kol looked back and forth between the two of you, before his signature grin spread back across his face.

"Elijah's turn," he announced.

"Dare," his older brother challenged him with a cold stare.

"Oooh, yes," Kol rubbed his hands together, excited to see what he would come up with.

"I dare you to take her upstairs, and pop her little cherry."

"KOL!" Elijah yelled, growing angry.

Rebekah smacked his arm and Elijah glared at his younger brother with his dark brown eyes, shooting daggers.

"No, nope, not okay." Marcel interjected, not enjoying the uncomfortable shift of energy that had taken place around the room.

You had enough of their teasing, it was too much. You jumped to your feet, tears stinging the back of your eyes, and you started toward the front door.

"Wait, where are you going?" Rebekah called after you.

"Home, it's late and I have to work tomorrow," You lied, not wanting them to know how hurt and humiliated you were.

"I'm sorry, darling, I was just teasing," Kol said, his face had fallen and his expression was one of genuine regret.

"It's fine," you said, trying to hide the quiver in your voice.

"Wait, I'll drive you," Elijah insisted, getting up.

"No, it's okay, I will walk, the fresh air will be nice," You assured him, not wanting to prolong this any further.

"Please, let me walk you, it's no trouble," Elijah said, offering his arm.

Kol and Klaus shared a glance, smirking at each other.

You reluctantly agreed and took his arm, feeling the heat rise to your face. He was a perfect gentleman and a welcomed distraction from the pain of their teasing.

"Have fun brother," Klaus said, winking at his older brother, who rolled his eyes, leading you outside.

Once the door was closed, the tears began to flow. You tried to wipe them away, not wanting him to see how much their teasing had affected you.

"Ignore him, he is a fool." He said, placing his hand over yours.

"I'm fine, really," You said, unconvincingly.

"No, you are not," he insisted, handing you a handkerchief from his pocket. He took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Thank you, Elijah." You said, dabbing at the corners of your eyes.

You walked in silence for a while, hand in hand, the warm breeze tickling your faces. His presence was calming, and he seemed to have an innate sense of empathy, picking up on your mood.

"May I ask you something?" He inquired, breaking the silence.

"Of course," You agreed, glancing at him, trying to gauge his expression.

"Why haven't you been with anyone? Surely you could have your choice of men." He asked, his voice curious, not judgmental.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"I-I uh... well..." you trailed off, unsure of how to answer his question.

"Please, don't be embarrassed," He insisted, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

"It's just— I haven't had the opportunity, and well— no one has ever asked," You said, biting your lip, a wave of nervousness washing over you.

"No one has ever asked, or you have not allowed anyone to?" He inquired, gazing into your eyes, his expression kind and understanding.

"Both, I guess." You shrugged, a sad smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Also..."

You were internally debating on whether or not to tell him the real reason, he was a stranger, after all. But there was something about him that put you at ease.

"I've never had an orgasm," you confessed, not daring to meet his gaze.You stared down at the ground, feeling mortified.

Elijah chuckled softly, and you could feel the tears stinging your eyes again. You were ready to bolt when he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you to his side.

"You are so sweet, and beautiful. I think you are overthinking things." He said, rubbing your arm soothingly.

Perhaps he was right, maybe that was the problem. Maybe it was the stress that kept you from enjoying yourself.

You arrived at the entrance to your building, and turned to face him, feeling shy.

"Thank you for walking me home," You said, biting your lip, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"It was my pleasure," He said, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

You felt a rush of heat flood through you and you knew this was an opportunity you couldn't let go to waste. You leaned forward and gently pressed your lips to his, your hands trembling as you touched his chest.

"I'm sorry," you breathed, breaking the kiss. "This was stupid of me, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-”

He cut you off, gently guiding the back of your neck and pulling you close, kissing you deeply. Your heart was hammering in your chest and your head was spinning. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He felt so nice and warm, his body pressing against yours. His lips were soft, and he tasted sweet. You let out a soft sigh, melting into his touch.

He broke the kiss, looking down at you with hooded eyes, and a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Do you want to come upstairs?" You breathed, looking up at him.

"Very much so," He murmured, before kissing you again.

You led him into the building, and up the stairs, to the small one bedroom apartment that you rented. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, feeling your heart fluttering in your chest.

He followed you in, his eyes wandering around the room, taking everything in. You stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do or say.

"This is a nice place," He remarked, walking around the small space.

"Thanks, it's not much, but it's home,"

He nodded and walked over to the couch, sitting down and patting the seat next to him.

You sat down, your legs shaking slightly. He smiled at you, taking your hand and squeezing it gently.

"Now, tell me what's wrong," he coaxed, stroking your cheek with his thumb, his eyes filled with concern.

"I'm just nervous," You admitted, your face growing hot.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You relaxed into him, letting out a soft sigh. He kissed you slowly and gently, his hands wandering to your waist.

"Come here," He whispered, pulling you onto his lap, straddling his legs.

You could feel his arousal growing between your legs, his hardness pressing against your inner thigh. It made your heart race, you were so nervous, but you wanted this.

"You are so soft," He murmured, his hands wandering down your sides, cupping your ass and squeezing gently.

Elijah sensed your unease, running his hands down your arms soothingly. Leaving soft kisses on your neck and cheek. His sweetness and tenderness, and him allowing you time and space to adjust was a huge relief.

It's just sex, and you were attracted to him, physically and mentally. The gentle way in which he held you was just making you fall further. You began to unbutton his shirt, pushing it back off his shoulders and taking in the sight of him. You traced your fingers down his firm chest, feeling the heat pool between your thighs.

Elijah let out a quiet laugh, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. You looked up at him sheepishly, your cheeks burning.

"Did I do something funny?" You asked, uncertain if you had missed out on an inside joke or failed to do something correctly.

"I've just never been undressed so delicately, like I was a piece of glass. Most women tend to go straight for the button and zipper,"

You smiled shyly, suddenly self conscious of your actions.

"But this is nice, very... gentle," he assured you, pressing his lips to yours.

His fingers traced the hem of your top, trailing against your stomach. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You moaned, your head spinning.

"Can I undress you?" He asked, breaking the kiss.

You nodded, blushing furiously. He smiled and slowly pulled your top over your head. Your body was wracked with nerves and trembles. He moved your hair over your shoulder and left a trail of soft, open mouthed kisses, starting at your jaw and working his way down your throat.

His hands wandered to the clasp of your bra, his eyes finding yours in silent permission. He gently unfastened it, exposing your breasts. You felt a wave of embarrassment roll through you. 

"Such beautiful curves," he mumbled, his mouth brushing your ear, taking one nipple between his fingers and rolling it gently. Your breath hitched in your throat, a soft moan escaping your lips.

"You like that?" he asked, his hand finding your other breast, capturing one of your nipples with his mouth, sucking gently.

You tilted your head back, moaning softly. He hummed in approval, his hand running down your side, slowly working its way underneath your skirt, rubbing you through your panties.

"Have you ever touched yourself?" He asked, his lips brushing your ear, his hand teasing you.

"Umm... Yeah, once, I didn't cum though," You admitted, feeling your body growing hot.

"Mmm," he hummed, his fingers brushing your clit through the thin fabric. Your hips jerked involuntarily, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Your nerve endings were buzzing, his touch sending bolts of pleasure throughout your body. You were squirming against him, desperate for more.

"We should move to the bedroom," he suggested. "I'd like to take my time with you, properly,"

His words send a bolt of heat through you, you're nearly trembling with desire. Elijah chuckled and picked you up, carrying you bridal style to the small room.

"The door on the left," You whispered, as he kicked the bedroom door open, and set you on the bed.

He stood before you, eyes wandering hungrily, devouring the sight of you laid out, practically naked before him.

He shed his clothing, his hands quickly reaching for his belt buckle, sliding his pants off, and discarding them.

You couldn't help but stare, his body was impeccable, his skin flawless, like it had been sculpted from stone. He was perfect. You could feel your cheeks burning, he had caught you gawking. You swallowed hard and quickly removed the rest of your own clothes, leaving you just in your panties, suddenly feeling very exposed and vulnerable.

He kissed you deeply, his warm hands wandering all over your body. You relaxed into the mattress, finally beginning to calm your mind, and trust him to give you pleasure.

He positioned your pillows against the headboard, so that you could lay back comfortably. He took your hand and guided it down, tracing against the fabric of your panties, sliding it beneath the cotton barrier and making contact.

"Always start slow and easy. Let yourself get worked up," his voice was low, his breath hot against your ear.

Elijah placed his hand over yours, guiding you to carefully rub your clit, coaxing gentle gasps out of you as you became more sensitive.

"Now, rub soft, and slow circles. Light pressure, tease it out. Be patient."

You did as you were told, a deep moan escaping your lips. It felt so nice. Warm heat spread through your core and your skin prickled all over, your hips started to roll against your own touch, chasing the newfound pleasure.

"That's it, just like that. You're doing so good,"

You could feel a low burn in your core, your muscles becoming tight, a sense of relief inching closer to you. Your breath began to become ragged and quick. Elijah held you firmly, reassuring you, whispering praise and compliments, his lips exploring your neck and shoulder.

Your hips rocked and bucked into your own fingers as you touched yourself, moaning deeply. Your thighs begin to quake, and your climax hit hard and fast. A euphoric feeling spread through your limbs, your entire body tingling. Elijah captured your lips in his own, swallowing your soft cries, a smile painted upon his face.

When your high began to ebb, and you were finally able to find coherent words, you looked up into his dark eyes, still trembling slightly.

"You really did come here to fix all my problems, huh?" You said playfully.

"I couldn't bear the thought of leaving such a beautiful woman unfulfilled,"

His response made your heart flutter and you couldn't keep yourself from giggling. You kissed him softly, relishing the sweet tenderness of his kiss.

"Can you..." You trailed off, blushing furiously.

He gave you a knowing smile, kissing his way down your body, making you tremble. His fingers hooked beneath your panties, pulling them down your legs and discarding them, leaving you bare beneath him. You looked down, a heady mix of nerves, fear, and desire making your stomach knot.

You felt the mattress shift, his body adjusting between your thighs, his warm hands pressing them open.

"Elijah..." you whispered.

His eyes gazed at your now fully exposed self. He wasn't just hungry, or ravenous, he was soft, admiring, appreciating your form.

"Gorgeous," he cooed.

Before you could argue, protest his opinion of your body, his tongue grazed across your clit, drawing a deep groan from the depths of your being.

He made a quiet sound, pleased with the taste, the feel of you and the knowledge that you'd allowed him the privilege to experience you this way. You trembled beneath him, your entire body aching, melting into the pleasure he brought. His nose bumped against your clit as he drove his tongue in and out.

Your hands went to the back of his head, tugging on his hair desperately. He pulled his mouth away, leaving a mess of wetness in his wake. His finger circled your entrance, teasing the opening, as he licked and sucked on your clit.

"Does that feel good?" He hummed, his finger continuing the motion, but not quite pushing in yet.

You nodded, panting, grinding your hips towards his hand, feeling greedy and lusty and out of control. Elijah responded by easing his two fingers slowly inside. He didn't break eye contact with you, reading your responses and adapting to it.

His lips were glistening, his skin was flush and his eyes dark with desire, completely intoxicated by the neediness, by the sounds and sights of you falling apart. You wanted more, but you felt overwhelmed and overcome and unable to cope with the flood of sensations.

He pulled out, sucking gently on your clit, before sinking his fingers back inside, drawing out a deep moan from you.

"Such a sweet sound," He whispered, the praise rolling through your mind and straight to your core.

You felt the now familiar tightening of your muscles as his pace increased, your body rocking against him. You let out a low moan, coming completely undone under his attention, riding his face shamelessly, all the while he seemed to soak up every sound, movement, and whimper.

You slumped back, attempting to catch your breath, your vision a little blurry, still tingling pleasantly from your release. You looked down at Elijah, you made a mess of his hair, and you could swear his cheeks were rosy, a pinkish tinge spread through his face and neck. You couldn't hold in a breathy giggle.

"Holy shit," you laughed, covering your face.

Elijah made his way back up, leaning over you, capturing your lips in a slow, soft, passionate kiss. Your hands ran over his chest as you moaned softly. He smelled and tasted like sex. You wrapped your legs around him and pressed your hips forward, wanting more, wanting all of him.

You broke apart, panting lightly as you looked into his beautiful brown eyes, that were reflecting the same feelings. He gave you a crooked smile that made your heart skip a beat.

Your hands wandered down his torso and you brushed your fingertips over his boxers, dipping below the waist band. You felt nervous, having never touched a man before, but he felt nice in your hands. You wrapped your fingers around his erection, feeling the warm weight of him in your palm.

He exhaled deeply, resting his forehead against yours. His pupils dilated, and his brow knit together, eyes heavy with desire. You had found yourself in a position in which you felt empowered by his reactions.

"You have to tell me what you like," You whispered shyly, your lips inches from his, stroking him slowly.

"I like you," He said softly. You could tell from his tone of voice and how he moved beneath your touch, that the meaning of his words was sincere. He was charming, a little intimidating, but something about his energy had put your worries and anxieties to rest.

"Elijah?" You looked at him innocently, rubbing your thumb over the slit, feeling the precum gather on the pad of your finger. You gently stroked the swollen tip, earning a soft moan.

"Will you please fuck me?"

His eyes snapped to yours, dark and lustful. It sent a thrill of desire through you, making your whole body warm. You continued to stroke his hard length, and he let out a low groan. He leaned back and removed his boxers, giving you a full view of him.

You blushed furiously at the sight, he was bigger than you expected. You took a deep breath, looking back up at him, eyes filled with a question. He smirked, understanding perfectly, and pulled you close, his lips colliding with yours in a heated kiss.

"Lie back for me darling," he whispered in your ear. You did as you were instructed, placing yourself comfortably on the bed, your heart threatening to pound out of your chest.

Elijah gave you one last kiss and pulled a condom out of his pocket, ripping it open. He rolled the sheath down his length, and grabbed a pillow, placing it under your hips to raise you slightly.

You watched him, in awe of how your night unfolded. Never could have anticipated how comfortable you would feel so exposed and naked with Elijah, a practical stranger. And you didn't want him to be a stranger, not after this.

He situated himself between your legs, his hand wrapping around the base of his erection. He positioned the tip at your entrance, slowly pushing inside, his other hand caressing your cheek.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, his thumb running along your bottom lip.

A deep groan escaped you. He was stretching you out, his cock just breaching the entrance of your cunt. Your hands moved to his shoulders, clinging to him tightly, breathing rapidly, trying not to panic.

He paused, his lips ghosting over yours. He peppered soft kisses all over your face and neck, murmuring praise and compliments.

"You're doing so well, sweet girl. So good. Relax for me, relax,"

His words were soothing, and you melted into the bed, relaxing around him. He moved slowly, rocking his hips a bit further with each small thrust. He was patient and sweet. So sweet. He peppered your neck, throat and mouth with soft kisses, he took his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers together, his thumbs rubbing the skin soothingly.

Once you adjusted, he felt perfect inside of you, every stroke bringing you closer to the edge.His pelvis rubbing against your clit and hitting you exactly where you needed. His body weight covered you, keeping you safe, and making your legs weak. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, dizzying, euphoric, perfect.

"So sweet, so soft," He whispered, grunting and thrusting slow and deep.

His words stoked the flames in you, making your hips meet him with his thrusts. It felt better than you ever could have dreamed. You rocked with him, a steady rhythm building, a symphony of gasps, moans, and breaths mingling together.

He pressed his forehead against yours, locking eyes. Both of you taking the moment, connecting with each other, hearts racing and breathing shaky as the intensity and passion overtook you.

It didn't take long; he felt amazing. Soon, another wave of heat washed over you, crashing down on your trembling body. You pressed your lips to his as you came, muffling a deep moan, dragging your nails down his back, crying out as the sensation rocked through you.

His climax quickly followed, his body tensing and he let out a grunt and stilled his hips as your highs started to ebb and come down. You nuzzled into him, stroking your fingers down his spine, melting into his touch as he held you close.

He met your eyes, a sweet and sated smile on his face, making your insides melt. You traced your fingers along his cheekbones as his lips met yours softly. It was tender, a kiss conveying the things that couldn't be said with words.

Elijah pressed his lips to your temple, a sweet gesture that made your heart swell before he slowly untangled himself, moving to dispose of the condom. You stretched out, enjoying the tingling throughout your body, and the pleasant exhaustion settling in.

When he returned, he laid back down beside you, pulling the blanket over both of you and pulling you close. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, a gentle reminder that he was real.

You woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee brewing. You put on a large shirt, and made your way into the kitchen where you found Elijah, cooking what appeared to be french toast. The sight and scent stirred both hunger and a fluttering in your stomach.

It took you a moment to register what transpired the night before, but once you did, your cheeks were hot. Elijah glanced up, giving you a warm smile, nearly causing your legs to give way. Setting the pan aside, he approached, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Good morning," His voice rasped and you smiled.

"Good morning Elijah, thank you. For, um," you struggled to finish your sentence, his dark brown eyes sending butterflies swarming in your stomach.

Elijah only nodded and reached up, cupping your face, stroking his thumbs along your cheeks and tucking a loose hair behind your ear. Your head leaned into his touch, so gentle and tender and caring.

"Truth or dare?" He asked, catching you by surprise.

"Truth," you decided, allowing a playful smile to grace your lips.

"Will you let me take you to dinner?" he inquired.

Your smile widened, and your heart quickened. This, you realized, was the most wonderful game of truth or dare you had ever played.

[thefaiao]

Interesting year. I find myself thinking about the future a lot now. I think we've arrived at a breaking point for social media. Sure it was getting bad before, I got that much, but I think it is finally actually coming apart at the seams. I still enjoy tumblr because the people here are now a little older than when I first used it at the peak of its popularity, and therefore a little wiser and with more interesting things to say overall. The lack of younger talent does hurt it a fair bit. Twitter's been complicated for a long time. I remember when I first started focusing heavily on it in 2017 it felt like a cool place to be, and I think that still kind of carries it to this day. I think the biggest detractor for Bluesky is that it just feels lame. It's just twitter again, the same mistakes, the same everything, but more controlled. Maybe that's exactly what people want, but as someone who isn't from the USA it doesn't feel that appealing. Maybe more and more it is harder for people with interesting non-UScentric things to say to find a place to organize in social media. "Freaks" is a good term. Bluesky just feels like twitter but with no freaks, to me. Maybe I'm wrong and I'm willing to eat my words on this but I think other freaks like me probably share the same sentiment. It really would be nice to have something new and cool. I end up finding myself at a crossroads where none of the options make sense. Ended up spending a few years not engaging much with twitter or tumblr, basically just getting my shit together, then had a great year this year with a lot of drawing. Now I'm not sure what's next. I have made great friends and use Discord plenty, but there's something about a public forum that I desire. I wish I had my game ready already so I didn't have to worry as much. It'd be easier to platform myself and perhaps at least toss my hat into the ring to make things better. Make another site? Just one more site bro please? Just one more? It does sound a bit delusional. But even then there must be a way to get something better. I believe there is something better than what we have right now, there just has to be, and I'm sure I'm not the only one thinking that.

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 11: POISON ROOT

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

It disgusted you a little bit, needing them like a fiending addict. Living with yourself and yourself alone was starting to get old, though you aren’t sure how much left of you feels whole. You were always fruit split in between a blade, all the gory parts splayed out by the hand of someone greater than you.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, drunk sex, threesome, oral sex, cumplay, phone sex, mentions of depression, angst, descriptions of mild gore

ੈ✩ wc: 7k

ੈ✩ a/n: here's a nice and fat chapter for you before we enter The Dark Ages <3

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

“Sorry, what?”

Yaga scowls at you and you’re unfazed. Mostly, you’re exasperated.

“I’ve repeated myself twice already,” he says calmly. More so brusquely, but you didn’t care enough to gauge his reaction. You’re too busy processing his words.

“I—I know, I’m sorry,” you mutter. “But why me? Shoko’s technique is way stronger than mine.”

“Shoko’s technique is not your technique. And unlike her, you actually engage in combat.”

“Because the boys forced me—”

He brings a hand to your shoulder in an attempt for reassurance. You freeze.

“Your technique is remarkable. Stronger than you think,” Yaga sighs, almost in resignation. He doesn’t seem particularly enthused about what he’s proposing to you, but you consider that you’d probably worn him down over the past half hour.

He rolls his eyes at the look on your face. Mouth parted like an animal struck with fear. 

“But—”

“There hasn’t been anyone with a technique like yours in over ten years. I remember it. I had a family friend as a teacher here first—she talked about a boy that could regenerate cells. Practiced on plants and small animals as a child until he was able to resurrect bigger ones at your age.”

“That boy isn’t me,” you protest, your brows furrowing.

“He isn’t,” Yaga snaps back. “He died, and his death could’ve been prevented. This is why I want you to do this. I want you to be strong enough so that the same thing doesn’t happen to you.”

You swallow and look down, pretending to be interested in your thumbs. Your hands are delicate compared to anyone else’s. You had always admired people who could make something out of nothing, people who sculpted, crafted. Sometimes, you often wonder if what you do could be considered the same.

You haven’t told anyone, but it’s easy to destroy things with your hands. Much easier than it is to build anything up, to heal. 

You’d tried it during long walks through the forest. On your way back from solo missions, you’d take routes that were less traveled, needing to clear your head. Once or twice, you remember finding animals that were victims of hunting. Broken limbs, bleeding out too much for you to save. You’d practice the darker parts of your technique, letting quick rot take away their misery.

“For how long?”

“Just two months. July and August.”

You take a deep breath. You could be alone in Kyoto for two months. The boys would survive. At least, you think Suguru would.

When you tell Satoru the next day, it’s a disaster.

“You’re what?”

“Satoru,” you warn, crossing your arms. 

Dealing with him is arduous. You knew he would react this way. He looks at you with irritation, nipping at your bare thigh just to see you pout. You were in the middle of reading when he had barged in, craving the scent of your moisturizer on your inner thighs. Needed the whipped softness of your flesh squeezed in between his hands after some heated sparring with Suguru.

“You can’t.”

“That’s not your decision—”

“You can’t. What did that old man say? Some other guy had your technique and died?”

“I’m not going to die!” you huff, rolling your eyes. 

Satoru frowns, his blue eyes glowing. He was free of missions for the past week, treating you to dates whenever he could. It seems that you’ve ruined his bliss. That ugly thought in his head festered in his mind again — the need to possess you. Trap you in a glass cage to stay alive forever like you were his enchanted rose.

“Like hell you won’t,” he mutters. “Which is why you’re staying.”

“I want to get stronger, Satoru.”

“You didn’t even want to be a sorcerer in the first place! And now you’re desperate to train with your little cell regeneration? Are you gonna dabble in necromancy?”

You frown at his condescending tone. He isn’t taking you seriously. He never does. Satoru has always had his way of belittling others, but he’d sworn to never do that to you given your history. You take a deep breath.

“It’s just… an independent study, alright? This could help me in the future. I could go to medical school with Shoko or something, you know? If you’re so scared of me dying because of combat, then I could just focus on the regeneration part and—”

“And what about the other part? How you make things rot and disintegrate?” he asks you incredulously, nearly snarling.

“That’s another thing I can learn to control.”

“But–”

“I didn’t have private lessons like you! I’m not a prodigy like you. Can I just have this one thing?” you plead with exhaustion. You can see the way his eyes flicker with a quiet rage, his mouth turned down into a pout. Petulant even at his big age.

Satoru sighs heavily. He nuzzles his face into your hand, kissing the heartline. You almost feel proud of yourself for not giving into him before the conversation began. He’d come into your room wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves messily cut off, exposing the hard lines of his stomach. Just a gaze had ripped away your autonomy, brain dumb at the sight of him. 

You wanted to lick him clean before he opened his damn mouth.

“I won’t tell you what to do,” he says in defeat.

“Thanks.”

You sit with him for a while, staring at the ceiling, hair strewn around your pillow. Silence fills the air save for the sound of his breathing. Eventually, he curls into you, nose into your bare shoulder as he mumbles unintelligible things. His mouth in the shape of I’ll miss you.

“I know,” you murmur. “I will, too.”

Suguru copes by getting buzzed in the daytime. He liked the hope on your face, how the light hit your eyes in a certain way. It meant something more. He knew that you were worth more.

Lately, Suguru feels like less.

Not particularly less than anyone else, though he knows that he’s certainly less than Satoru just by default. He remembers the mission all too clearly—it’s the only thing that haunts his nightmares. The blankness on Satoru’s face, his willingness to kill a group of people just for the sake of it.

He thought he’d lost Satoru forever, that he’d fucked up the mission by letting a bullet go through Riko’s head. But then, of course, Satoru survived. Of course Satoru found a way to bring himself back to life. Everything should be fine, because Satoru came out alive, and so did he. So did you.

It didn’t feel like enough. The taste of curses started to get worse, if that was even possible. Suguru has been starting to believe that he didn’t deserve anything palatable. That the universe was working against him maybe, because his depressive spirals last longer now.

And you’re fucking leaving.

He knows he can have you whenever he wants, but he likes to lick the taste of you out of Satoru’s mouth. 

He bites Satoru’s lip and it makes the boy yelp.

“What the hell was that for?” Satoru pouts. Suguru only grins wolfishly. 

“Thought you wanted me to make you feel better. You don’t like it rough?”

“Of course I like it rough,” Satoru grunts. “But you know I hate teeth.”

“On your dick.”

Satoru pauses, rolling his eyes, then sinks his teeth into Suguru’s neck instead. 

“You smell like a dive bar. It’s fucking 3 pm.”

“Day off, bitch,” Suguru mutters.

Satoru pushes Suguru against the mattress and spoons him, rutting against his ass. It’s always a little violent with them. You used to joke about it—something about dogs and masculinity. Satoru kept wanting to fuck like it was a cage match. Bull-headed, annoying. For Suguru, intimacy always felt like a car crash no matter who it was with.

“You’re not fucking my ass,” Suguru mumbles.

Satoru whines childishly, of course.

“Ran out of lube.”

“Spit?” Satoru begs, his eyes comically large.

“Fuck you, dude,” Suguru scoffs.

“I’m trying!”

Suguru turns to fall onto the bed facing Satoru, then shoves his head downward. He feels numb despite his throbbing cock. He knows Satoru’s mouth is probably watering for him.

“C’mon,” Suguru slurs, unzipping his shorts. “You need to work on giving head.”

“Hey!”

“Not my fault she does it better than you.”

Satoru huffs but leans over the end of the bed anyway, his limbs too long to crouch on the bed. He spits on Suguru’s cock and pumps agonizingly slowly, coaxing out guttural sounds vibrating out of the boy’s throat.

For once, Suguru feels a little powerful when the Jujutsu world’s boy-god chokes over his dick. He looks down and pushes his head down, reveling in the sound of him gagging, throat slack. Not as good as you, but getting better. The drool makes him look pretty. It matched the glazed look in Satoru’s eyes.

Suguru nearly finishes right then and there, the barbed wire inside of his body starting to untangle until there’s a knock on his door. Of course you knock—the polite girl you are.

“S’unlocked,” he calls after you. Satoru makes a noise. Something in between a moan and a sound of protest.

Suguru likes your wide eyes. You’re out of your school uniform, dressed in a white number with embroidered flowers at the hem that hits halfway above your knees.

“Oh… I—”

“C’mere, baby,” Suguru rasps, his hand reaching out for you. He’s so close, threading his fingers through Satoru’s hair before pulling at his snowy mop.

Satoru coughs, his throat raw. It makes Suguru laugh. You watch like you’re outside of your own body, eyes wide. It was easy for them to get you under a spell. 

It doesn’t take long for their hands to grope you, have your dress pooling at your waist so that your bare ass is on display. Heathens. Being with them was always like throwing yourself to the wolves.

“So wet,” Suguru groans, circling a finger in the heat hiding behind your underwear. “Wanted a proper send-off, angel? Gonna miss us all the way in Kyoto, aren’t you?”

You can’t respond when your head is already so dizzy with Satoru’s teeth on your collarbone.

“Don’t talk about that, I’ll lose my boner,” Satoru huffs. 

“What a baby.”

“Stop arguing,” you roll your eyes. 

Suguru decides to be selfish, his dick already out and pulsing from the tease of Satoru’s tongue. He slides it along your folds, wetness pooling right underneath him. It makes him groan, his insides white-hot. He’d been craving this since he’d woken up this morning. The heat was making his moodiness deliquesce into desperation burning like acid in his stomach. He needed you and Satoru like a bullet begging to be lodged, piercing out of a bannister.

“Not fair,” Satoru grumbles, his knees bent as he gropes you. Rutting against the mattress pathetically as he whines, his desperation puppy-like. 

His mouth is salty, leftover from Suguru’s precum. His hair smelled like Suguru’s too—he must’ve been copying his hair routine for the hell of it. It was enough to keep him close without asking to sew himself into the boy’s skin. 

Suguru looks down at you and your blissed-out face, vulnerable before he’s even entered you. Your mouth is wet from Satoru’s kisses, spit drooling out of the corner of your pink mouth. Suguru smears it around and already imagines himself pulling out of you to finish there instead, just to see it on your lips. He’d like to see you cry again one last time.

You hum when you’re filled with him. Stuttering hips hitting slack thighs. Soft despite the violence inside him, the little voice in his head taunting him to wreck you. 

He likes you like this, first. Daisy-soft, his fingers in your mouth until you gag. Yelping in time with Satoru’s stupid whines. 

“Twigs,” Satoru breathes, his hot breath fanning your jaw. “Can I put it in your ass?”

You groan, shaking your head as Suguru howls with laughter. 

July, 2010

Gakuganji has you on a leash. It hasn’t even been a week and you’ve already gone on two missions, each that ended with you covered in blood, but luckily unscathed. Satoru would have a fit if he knew. The ghost of him hovers on your shoulder at your weakest moments — taunting you, challenging you. You know he wouldn’t be as cruel if he was with you physically, but your psyche conjures him in a way that feels like punishment. 

You can’t escape him, either. He’s needier than you expect — visiting you during off times during your weekends, treating them like serendipitous encounters. You don’t believe him, and you shouldn’t. 

(He warps to you when he gets in fights with Suguru. When he gets too horny to find someone at a bar, because if it’s not Suguru, it’s you. But he could never tell you that.)

You like to keep yourself busy in Kyoto. Whether it’s immersing yourself in your studies or practicing your technique, you can occupy yourself easily, even if you’re bombarded by images of veiny hands, long black hair, pink mouths. Blue eyes that are too bright, even in your dreams. 

You spend most of your time by yourself, anyway. It’s what you need. If not that, then you’re at the local bars with Utahime-senpai, who transferred to Kyoto months before. 

“Are you their little plaything?” she teases. You’re loosened up after a few beers, all on her tab, but the mention of the boys sobers you up immediately. You scowl.

“What?” She holds her hands up in surrender. “Everybody knows… Shoko kind of already told me.”

“Of course she did,” you snort.

“I’m just saying, you should be careful. They’re insatiable. And never in their right mind. I could advocate for Geto-kun, but I’m sure Gojo’s already corrupted him.”

Corrupted. It’s a funny notion. You wonder if you’ve been corrupted by both of them. Satoru as your first didn’t bother you. To have Suguru as your second only complicated things. You haven’t known anything else but them. You aren’t sure if this should concern you until Utahime talks about it.

“They’re kind of the same in that way,” you mumble.

“Are they both your boyfriends?” Utahime giggles.

“N-No…”

“So it’s not serious? I know I’m not much older than you, but I still went through a few flings. You shouldn’t let them keep you on a chain.”

“They’re not–”

“Are you sure?” she laughs. “You’ve been checking your phone every five minutes. It’s like they brainwashed you.”

“Hime,” you frown.

“I’m just saying,” she shrugs. “There are lots of men around here staring at you.”

“No, there aren’t.”

“Someone is staring at you right now. Behind you. Blonde. Tacky if he wasn’t like, a little hot like he is.”

“Shut up.”

She gives you a pointed look that causes you to look over your shoulder. Lo and behold, there is a man of that description making glances at you with a cocky smirk. It reminds you of the way Satoru looks at you. It makes your stomach flip.

“See?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you mumble.

You move past the crowd to the single stall, plastered in posters from vintage porn magazines and graffiti. Your phone’s about to die, but the group chat with you and the boys has unread messages. It’s mostly Satoru complaining, arguing with Suguru about things that you couldn’t care less about. There are separate messages from them, too. Satoru’s suggestive selfies and Suguru’s words of affirmation. You scoff at the difference between them.

When you return, Utahime grins at you like she’s plotting.

“What did you do?” you narrow your eyes.

“He came over here! I knew it. He was interested in you,” she beams.

“What?”

“Relax. He’s a sorcerer. And I gave him your number.”

“Hime!” You shove her arm lightly, groaning when she laughs.

“You need to get laid by someone who isn’t an idiot.”

You roll your eyes. The many beers are making your head swim too much for you to actually be angry. If anything, your cheeks feel warm at the prospect of someone else being interested in you. It’s not something you’ve experienced in your youth, or now for that matter, since Satoru had sunken his teeth in you so quickly.

Images of him talking to other girls at parties flash in your mind, making you grimace. Maybe Utahime was doing you a favor.

The bachelor in question is nowhere to be found. You curse yourself for not getting a good look at him. A pit forms in your stomach at the idea of him texting you – a handsome stranger who watched you babble drunkenly to Utahime. It occurred to you that you hadn’t even considered yourself something desirable in a context that wasn’t bound to Satoru or Suguru.

On the walk home, the thought consumes you. You aren’t sure if you even know yourself without them. During most of your life, you’ve only known obedience. Intimacy with Satoru was no different, you realize. You were wrapped around his finger since you were children – it didn’t matter that you were apart for years. It would always be him.

You aren’t sure if this bothers you or not. You try to push the thought away, shaking your head slightly as if daydreams of him would fall out of your head. It doesn’t work, not really. You’re drunk. Naturally, you think of his pink mouth. The veins on his hands.

You unlock the door of your room. When you enter, darkness envelops you, which you’re used to, if not for the bright blue eyes that stare back at you. 

“Jesus!” you mutter, cursing to yourself once you can get the nearest lamp on. 

“What? Not happy to see me?” he slurs, flashing you a sloppy smile. 

“Can you at least give me a heads-up before you show up randomly?”

“That ruins the surprise, baby,” he purrs, walking over to you to set his hands on your hips.   Trapping you gently. 

“You’re drunk.”

“Hm?”

“You’re. Drunk. Why are you here?” 

“Had a mission nearby. Then I went to a bar to relax. And then, I thought, warping to Tokyo would take too much for a drunk. Why not stay here?”

“I’m not a motel.”

“C’mon, baby,” he pouts. “You’re not gonna kick me out, are you?”

You scoff, moving past him to sit on your bed and take off your shoes.

Satoru chuckles, taking a seat right next to you, thigh touching yours. “You’re drunk, too. I can smell it.”

“I haven’t even been here for a full month and this is like, the third time you’ve surprised me. What’s going on with you?”

“What? Can’t miss my lover?”

He says lover like it’s an inside joke. He never says girlfriend. Never partner.

“You’re so needy.”

“You like me that way,” Satoru says, his voice velvety. He’s not in his uniform, but a light blue button-down and slacks. You wonder if he’s planned this or if he dressed up for someone else, running to you as the safest option because you’re always there. Always willing.

You’d been ready to sink into your shitty mattress and dream of him. You hadn’t been anticipating the real thing in front of you. It was stupid, how he took your breath away, as if he was still something new to you. As if he hadn’t been in the back of your mind since you were a little kid, always.

“I’m tired, Satoru,” you sigh.

“You sure?” he grins. “You smell like beer. Still trying to have some fun tonight?”

You narrow your eyes at him and he laughs. He comes closer, pinching the meat of your thigh right under the hem of your skirt, chuckling when you swat his hand away.

“So short. Who’s this for, huh?” he taunts.

You swallow back an insult the moment you look down at the way his large hands play with a loose thread of your skirt. How large they are compared to your thigh, the calloused tips of his fingers running circles in your skin.

“No one,” you breathe.

“You cheating on me, Twigs?”

“Yeah, with Utahime,” you roll your eyes.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that. Sounds hot, to be honest.”

Your cursed energy flares. You hate when he belittles you, but you could never do anything about it. You could only fall into his trap, giving into him the way he knows you will. You don’t even notice that he’s caged you within his arms, his hands settling on your hips as his body backs you into your bed. The back of your knees hit the mattress.

His breath smells sweet. It usually does, but it’s something sour this time. Something citrusy, along with the smell of something much too alcoholic. One of those whiskey sours, you guessed. You don’t realize how drunk he is until you look him in the eyes, his blue irises unfocused despite the desperation in his gaze.

“Of course not,” he grins, leaning in to inhale your scent. “You’d never. My sweet girl. My best girl, right?”

“You say that like I’m one of many,” you scoff.

“Are you jealous?” he rumbles, laughing. “As if there’s any other girl I like as much as you…”

He says girl and you think of Suguru. An exception, just barely. You realize how much you miss him, too.

Your eyes flutter closed as Satoru backs you into your bed, teeth grazing your earlobe. You aren’t sure if it’s him or the drunkenness of your brain. You don’t even notice his fingers massaging your thighs, trailing up to hook your underwear to the side to tease your dripping core. It’s his teasing laughter that snaps you awake.

“So wet… did you know I was coming, baby? Or were you expecting someone else?”

You don’t answer. Your breath hitches at the contact of his eager fingers prodding you, pushing upwards into your pulsating cunt before you can protest. The wounded noise you make only spurs him on further.

“You went to a bar, right? Were you thinking about me when you were there? Got yourself all wound up?”

You don’t reply. He’s too busy pushing his fingers to the very edge, stimulating the spot that makes your knees buckle before you can even form a thought.

You gasp, your mouth parting. Slack-jawed, eyes rolling back as you get closer to the edge before he’s even inside you. It could be pathetic if you cared, but Satoru always made everything around you melt, like you weren’t in your own mind anymore. You accepted being a body that belonged to him, nothing more.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he breathes, his lips tickling your jaw. “You’re so quiet.”

“Satoru,” you sigh. His other hand rubs the small of your back, touching the bare skin underneath your thin shirt.

He digs his fingers in further, knuckle-deep until he hears you make a pained noise. He grins at your broken moan like he’d just won a prize. He doesn’t stop, either — he wanted to hear more of those sounds out of your mouth. It was proof that you were still his, wrapped around his finger. 

You try to catch your breath as you lay back on your bed, his strong arms hoisting you up to the wall. You hiss at the feeling of his teeth on your thighs, biting desperately. Satoru was already sweating despite only coaxing bliss from you once. 

He claws at you, pulling at the buttons of your blouse and tugging your skirt down until you’re left bare for him. He groans at the sight of your silky skin, the way your chest heaves in anticipation. Everything about you is ripe, ready to break underneath his hands.

He’s less vocal this time when he takes you, pushing into you before you can say anything. He doesn’t realize how drunk he is until he does this, considering every sense of his was numb until he entered you, igniting his synapses on fire. 

You whimper from the abruptness, aching between your legs. You think that you would’ve bled if you weren’t so in love with him, but you knew better. Anything from him made your entire body warm and pliant, wet beyond your comprehension. You hated it, sometimes.

But you couldn’t hate anything about it now. You were doused in bliss.

“My girl,” he slurs. “So fucking perfect. Say it.”

You mutter nonsense under your breath.

He bends you in half, your calves resting on his broad shoulders. He chuckles at your pathetic whines.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Fuck — I – I’m your girl,” you sob.

“My perfect girl,” he mutters, correcting you. He groans when he looks down at you, his hips stuttering. His thrusts are harder than usual on purpose — he’d rather die than tell you that he’d only warped to you because he was having a panic attack in his room alone. 

He thought he could get his mind off of you, off of Suguru, who he’d assumed was angry with him all day. There were only dry texts from the both of you. No woman at the bar could compete, even if he managed to get a decent handjob in the bathroom. He could only think of you. 

Satoru knew you’d hate him for it. He was disgusted with himself. He feels it now, aching inside the cavern of his chest when you moan his name, knowing he doesn’t deserve a praising word out of your mouth.

He whines, on the verge of tears as he rides out his orgasm in your cunt. 

“Shit,” he hisses into the skin of your neck.

You can barely reply before he kisses down your stomach, licking himself out of you with his nails digging into your thighs.

“Satoru, what are you—oh, fuck—”

“Cum for me,” he slurs, lapping at your clit as he pushes his fingers into you. He pauses, mesmerized at the way his cum drips out of you, only for his fingers to push it back into the hilt, up to his knuckles.

You sob in protest, your thighs shaking as he plays with you. He doesn’t stop for a second. It’s almost as if he doesn’t realize you’re there, his heavy-lidded gaze fixed on the way your pussy swallows his fingers.

“S’too much,” you whine, grasping his wrist tightly.

“Fuckin’ love you,” he murmurs under his breath. You don’t hear him. Your body convulses as he continues to play you like an instrument. He only stops when he looks up to see tears pricking your eyes.

“S-Satoru…”

“Fuck,” he mutters. He finally retracts, licking his fingers as he looks at you intensely. “Mine… you’re all mine.”

The glassy look in his eyes is from the alcohol, you assume, but there’s something tantalizingly too real about the expression on his face. Raw with something he only buries inside his gut. He snaps out of it like it’s not something you’re supposed to see. 

He grunts when he lays his head on your lap, his fingers digging into your skin possessively as you tremble. You prop your head up on your pillow, trying to catch your breath as you stroke his hair.

“Why’d you get so drunk?” you ask quietly. “Were you alone?”

“Of course I was,” he scoffs, almost defensive. But he smells a sweetness on his skin that isn’t from you, and he knows you’ve already picked up on it. 

“You could’ve texted or called me instead of breaking into my dorm.”

“You just hate fun,” Satoru mumbles. 

Despite his attitude, he rubs his cheek against your thigh like he’s a pet. He thinks about taking you again, just to shut you up — enough to have both of you sweating, the musk of your sex drowning out any remnants from the bitch that Satoru had tried to use hours before.

Nothing could replace you and he had to live with that. 

He nips at your thigh, his mouth getting dangerously close to your core. You whine as you pull him back by his scalp, like the scruff of a dog. Satoru is always insatiable when he’s drunk, which is saying something considering what he’s like sober. His cravings for you are always intense. When he’s not in his right mind, you’re more considered prey than a craving.

You don’t have the energy to respond to him. His warmth satiates you for now as he locks his arms around your bare waist. The light breathing fanning your stomach calms you.

When you wake up, he’s nowhere to be found, but there’s a small floral arrangement on your desk. White orchids and blue hyacinths.

August, 2010 

You hate bringing anything back to life as much as you hate desecration.

It’s unnatural — though you know that nothing about the Jujutsu world is natural. Everything to you is a myth you have to deal with. After knowing Satoru for so long and seeing what nasty curses humanity could birth, you shouldn’t be stunted.

It makes you feel a bit ill when you realize how much power your hands wield. As ordinary as you’ve always been, these days you often wish that you were the true epitome of it. Only human, unable to see the horrors of the world. Left in the dark when it came to sorcery. Perhaps you aren’t cut out for this, despite how much you tried to convince Satoru you were.

His voice echoes in your mind. His pleading. The ways he wanted to protect you. He’d belittled your technique for a reason, maybe. You aren’t sure you’re cut out for this shit.

Necromancy is only exciting the first couple of times. After that, it’s the reanimation of body parts that freaks you out. It doesn’t matter that it’s the revival of small birds and rodents on a lab table. You feel like you’re playing God and not even doing a decent job of it.

It catches up to you in your dreams. The image of you getting held down, leaving you to resort to your technique. Rotting flesh. Even in your unconscious, the smell is somehow striking, as if you’re really there. Other times, you find horror in the reanimation of corpses under your hand. Split limbs coming together. Limbs that belong to people you love.

Tonight, you’re shaken by the image of Suguru mauled beyond belief. Sacrilegious violence that makes your stomach turn. 

When you wake up in a sweat, gasping, the alarm clock on your bedside table reads 1:12 am. You dial his number before you can even come to your senses.

“Twigs.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

You hear Suguru chuckle, deep and sweet like teeth sunken into cake. You’re filled with warmth almost immediately. 

“What’s up? Isn’t it past your bedtime?” he breathes.

“Had a nightmare,” you mumble.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you sigh. 

“Fine. What are you thinking about, then?”

“You,” you mumble.

There’s silence on the other end. Despite this, you can still hear his grin. You can see his little smirk perfectly in your head. 

“Yeah?” his voice lowers. “What about me?”

“Y-your hands,” you mumble. “You make me feel safe.”

“Is that right?”

You make a small noise that shows your agreement, but it’s noncommittal. You hum at the thought of him. You’re sleep-dazed, partially wishing for this moment that he was more like Satoru. Able to talk your ear off without any effort from your end.

Suguru had always known you differently. He had you memorized as much as Satoru did, but uniquely, given the similarities between your personalities. He knew how you worked and he never held it against you.

Satoru would probably try to pry it out of you. Suguru would already know.

And at this moment, he knows. It’d be infuriating if you didn’t see it coming.

“You’re upset,” Suguru says.

“No.”

“You are. Or you’re pent up, which is also like being upset. Need some catharsis?”

“Maybe,” you mumble.

“Tell me what’s wrong, then. Or tell me about your nightmare.”

“No.”

He laughs. 

“Stubborn as always,” he purrs.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” you whisper.

“You want to hear me be mean to you. You like not being in control. That’s what makes you feel safe, isn’t it, princess?”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon, baby,” he laughs. “Give me something to work with.”

Your eyes nearly glaze over as you watch the flickering lights outside of your dorm. A broken street lamp flashes on and off, shadowing your room in darkness only to illuminate seconds later, back and forth. Unpredictably so. You aren’t sure what else you should look at while you’re still so drunk on Suguru’s voice. You think maybe you’d handle this phone call better if you were far from sober.

“I fucked someone else yesterday.”

The line goes silent. Your heartbeat picks up.

After almost an eternity, you hear Suguru’s voice again. It’s soft, almost cooing. It feels awfully dangerous despite this.

“Yeah? Who?”

You swallow thickly. 

“This guy who got my number last month. Like, I didn’t give it to him — Utahime did,” you ramble. “But then we started texting and stuff and he’s… funny. He, uh, came over yesterday.”

“Did you like it?”

You imagine your throat closes up. Part of you wishes it would, that you’d just pass out immediately for no reason just so you didn’t have to have this conversation. You curse yourself for even bringing it up.

“Y-Yes.”

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” he chuckles.

“I am…”

“You don’t have to be so scared, baby. I know that Satoru took away your virginity, but he’s not some kind of god watching over you.”

“I know,” you huff.

“But you feel guilty, don’t you? Like you’re betraying him?” he teases.

You open your mouth to say something, then close it. You notice how he talks about Satoru and not himself.

“Do you care?”

“I know how you feel about me.” His answer is simple. Blunt. It almost sounds sarcastic, but Suguru often talks like he’s cock-sure about everything. Even if he isn’t, he’s always held a certain confidence that was different from what Satoru exuded. 

Satoru was a bad liar, to you, at least.

“Tell me about your boy. What’s his name?”

“He’s not–” you gruff. “Naoya. His name is Naoya.”

“That Zenin brat?”

“Huh?”

“He’s in the Zenin clan. A right bastard, I’ve heard.”

“He seems fine,” you mumble.

“Someone’s defensive,” he teases.

You pause, staring at the darkness of your ceiling. You fix your shorts, your fingers grazing the wetness of your core. You didn’t even realize you were aroused.

“I should go back to sleep,” you whisper.

“I thought you couldn’t. That’s why you called me, right? You need some help?”

“I don’t need help,” you scoff. “I just… I had a nightmare and wanted to talk to you.”

Suguru smiles. He knows you can’t see it, but he’s beaming in the darkness of his room. He’d been restless for the past few days after some disagreements with Satoru. He tried to blame the heat on physical altercations — the sun burning down to rev up the irritation in their shared systems like they were still boys. Always wanting to pin each other to the ground.

They didn’t have you to mediate, so they’d come out of arguments with bruises. Marks from skin tugged too harshly. The ghost of teeth biting down on flesh. 

“I wish you were here, babygirl,” he sighs, his tone desperate. You almost cringe at it — you always assume he’s playing with you.

“Yeah?” you snort.

“Mhm. It’s funny. You didn’t even wake me up when you called. I was already awake, thinking of you.”

“Were you, now?”

“Mhm,” Suguru hums.  “I just kept thinking about your thighs. How small your leg is compared to my hand.”

Your breath hitches and he almost laughs when he hears it.

“Can you do something for me, baby?” he asks. “Want you to touch yourself. Tell me how wet you are.”

You gulp. Your fingers prod at the hem of your athletic shorts, the nylon riding up as you squirm in your bed. Your index and middle fingers prod at the center of your core experimentally. You’re fucking dripping and it makes your breath hitch.

Suguru calls your name.

“I”m…” you stammer. “I’m wet. Why?”

“Poor thing. Maybe that’s why you can’t sleep, no?”

“I-I’m fine… I just—”

“You should play with your clit. Since I can’t be there to do it for you,” he breathes.

“What?”

“C’mon, sweetheart. I can tell my favorite girl just needs to relax. That’s why you called me, right?”

You whimper. It was maybe half-true. Suguru had stopped answering his texts as frequently as he usually did, and you missed the sound of his voice. The odd ache in your chest wasn’t something that you felt like exposing to anyone else, not even Satoru.

The silk of Suguru’s voice brings you back. You wanted to breathe him in, but he hadn’t visited like he said he would. Didn’t have the warping feature that Satoru had, which to this day, still startled you whenever it happened. Ocean eyes whipping your senses from thin air, like a lightning strike. 

Despite your recent gripes about him, you needed the both of them like you needed air. At least to make it all more bearable. It disgusted you a little bit, needing them like a finding addict. Living with yourself and yourself alone was starting to get old, though you aren’t sure how much left of you feels whole. You were always fruit split in between a blade, all the gory parts splayed out by the hand of someone greater than you.

You needed Suguru’s musk, his hair in between your fingers as he rocked into you. Your hands were too small compared to his. 

He has you panting, sweating through Kyoto’s mugginess. The dorms were in even worse shape here than on the main Tokyo campus, probably why Gakuganji was such a vapid old man. Everything was too hot and falling off the bone.

“I feel like I’m hallucinating. It’s like I can smell you through the phone,” Suguru murmurs, his voice like a mirage. You’d laugh if you weren’t so deep in your cunt, fingers pruning and pushed to the knuckles. 

Suguru knew you would do anything for him, so he made you torture yourself because he wasn’t there to do it himself.

Your groans are muffled from you smothering your face in the sheets, knees pressing down and ass up. Willing to humiliate yourself without him even being there.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up already,” he chides.

“I’m not,” you whine.

“How many times have you cum?”

“None.”

He laughs. “What are you thinking about?”

“You know what.” 

You’re close to tears by the time he lets you cum. The sound of his voice hitting you deep in your core, insides permeated with the thought of him. Sweeter than smoked sugar.

It was the sound of his grunt that tipped you over, imagining him with black strands sticking to his high cheekbones with sweat. The apples of his face candy-pink. Where Satoru looked cherubic, Suguru looked like a girl’s first wet dream. 

“Were you touching yourself?” you pant, coming down from your high. You don’t bother putting on your underwear again.

“Obviously,” he groans. The vibrations of his voice made the speaker blow off-kilter like the audio of a shitty VHS. “Came all over myself.”

You could fall asleep to the sound of his static hums. The chaos in your gut is settled by the time your alarm clock strikes devil’s hour.

“How are things?” you ask sleepily.

“With me?” Suguru asks. “Fine. Same as always.”

“You sound tired.”

“It’s three in the morning, sweetheart,” he chuckles dryly.

“Mm. My phone bill’s gonna be so high.”

“Get Satoru to pay for it.”

The bastard probably would, if you asked.

You don’t get much out of Suguru for the remainder you’re awake. His answers are deflective and clipped. He hangs up by the time he hears you breathing, knowing you’ve fallen asleep.

He sighs in his room, rummaging for his pills. If nightmares didn’t keep him up, then the sheer unwillingness of his brain’s tranquility was often enough for him to run a graveyard shift. Stumbling in the dark, half-dead. He’d gotten productive in finishing the video games he’d started with Satoru by himself. Not much else.

His throat feels dry. He couldn’t differentiate the tastes of anything anymore. It all tasted like curses.

You keep having dreams about Suguru.

Tonight, there’s two of him.

One is the image you’re used to – hair swept up in a bun. Broad chest in his Jujutsu Tech uniform. Eyes crinkling into half moons.

The other seems to be an alter ego. A cursed version, one with eyes to kill and blood on his hands. Hands that are trying to tear you apart.

When you grip his wrist, you can see the imprint of your hand on his skin. Flesh falling away, much too easily. The air around you splinters like you’re in a glitched matrix. The Suguru you know and love falters beside you, his skin suddenly sallow. Pale as bile.

When you scream, nothing comes out.

Pseudo-Suguru smiles as your Suguru fades away into ash. You stare into his cat-like gaze, the familiar of his mouth. 

“Come with me,” he says. 

It’s the last thing you hear before your body wakes you up in a sweat. You gasp as you jolt awake, fingers curling your damp bedsheets. You’re further startled by the crack of thunder as a torrential downpour occurs without warning — unusual for late August, considering the rainy season had died down weeks prior. 

You sit up and reach for your phone almost automatically, your hands shaking as you go through your contacts. Your fingers hover over two names as you swallow thickly.

A few beeps follow the push of the call button.

“We’re sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

[brainrot-goes-brrrrrr]

Savanna Squad Presentation Night Headcanons/mini fic [1/3]

splitting this into three headcanon parts because my god its long

eat up :]

Part 1: Taylor & Logan Part 2: Ben & Tyler Part 3: Aiden & Ashlyn

Ashlyn's POV

So the question is: How did we get here? Simple answer really. Taylor. She was always the one to suggest these kinds of things, team building hang outs, though last time it was just us.

The rest of the boys had plans. Tyler had practice to attend, one of the late kinds, Ben and Logan had a project together due for bio in a day or two, and Aiden, for some reason, had a late dentist appointment (much to his dismay). Only Taylor could make it to the graveyard early. Initially, we were just meant to manage our resources, which was manageable with one person, but it was always easier with other people to bounce ideas off of. That's all it was meant to be, but Taylor had other ideas.

"Girls night!!" She had cheered, and we just hung out.

And I had fun.

But as Logan fights with his laptop to mirror on the T.V for the presenters, that being us, I can't help but feel like I'm going to regret this one. Especially with Tweedledee and Tweedledum in the background yelling about something that I don't want to know about, but will probably learn against my will.

Just as Taylor and Ben come downstairs with blankets and pillows, Logan's T.V finally projects the wallpaper of his laptop.

"It's set up, thank god," he sighs, with that last part being under his breathe. And as we set up in his living room, Ben dragging Aiden and Tyler from the kitchen, both with bags of snacks in their arms, and Taylor handing out blankets, we finally sit in our places.

The next question, however, is Who goes first?

Taylor Hernandez

Taylor goes first because she's the one who planned it and was the most excited about it. Aiden tried to go first, but it was collectively agreed that he would be going last for no reason other than to piss him off lmao

Anyways, we love a STEM girl (be still my own heart) so her presentation would be all about her tools and work for the mechanics club. She takes this club seriously, not only because it's good for networking, but because she genuinely finds it fun. I like to think that there are two levels to the club where one is just a standard club and the second level is a competition team, and she was shooting to be a part of the competition league (totally not projecting because I'm a robotics kid)

Her presentation is so well done. It's not only really well organized, but it is just so pretty. It's the type of presentation that teachers would drool over. Avid Canva user b/c it has a lot of customization options that she loves.

What's a toolbox tour without the actual toolbox that's just as decorated as her slideshow. And she takes care of it, too.

Her presentation is so fun and sets a fun tune for the night, and she manages to make this topic really engaging. She would have a little quiz at the end, too, where if one of the group gets a question correct, they get a piece of candy

shows off tools like she's filming a makeup tutorial, I saw this on tumblr, and it's just canon at this point. No criticisms are accepted because it just isn't possible.

Group's reaction

Ashlyn and Ben are the ones who pay the most attention to the presentation. Ashlyn also gets the most questions right at the end of the quiz.

Logan asks the most questions in between slides, but not in an annoying way. He does get a bit lost, though, considering just how many tools there are.

Tyler and Aiden are still bickering a bit. Aiden can't sit still for the life of himself, but he swears that he is listening. Tyler would say otherwise.

Aiden is, though, and he ends up getting Taylor a really nice tool set that she mentioned she wanted when presenting just because he can. He is her favorite for a few days. He absolutely would have a shit eating grin looking at Tyler to just say, "See, I was listening :D". Tyler would then say that he could go fuck himself /hj

Logan Fields

Logan is next. The laptop hates him, and it's old and shuts down multiple times in his presentation. The group then had to watch this man fight with a busted 4-year-old laptop and lose several times. Have you ever seen your parents fight with a printer the night before you have a school project due? It's like that, and the rest are concerned.

He is an astrology bitch, and I will take no criticisms. But like, not in the way that it controls his life, he would not be caught dead saying that the stars told him to do something, like not let him eat alfredo on Sunday or something like that. He's more interested in the concept itself since the idea of zodiacs have existed for so long. Its his comfort research topic.

Absolutely went HAM on researching each and every one of their birth charts. Ask him to show you his notes, and he would not show you. Why??? because he took up an entire notepad (it's one of the smaller ones but still).

"Logan's so innocent" "Logan's so sweet" "My boy can do no wro-" NO!!!! THAT MOTHERFUCKER WILL READ YOU TO FILTH AND I STAND BY THIS. ITS LIKE HE LOOKED YOUR SOUL, UP AND DOWN, AND EXPOSED IT FOR THE WORLD TO SEE (something tells me Tyler gets it the worse. idk why it just feels right)!!! If he feels like something doesn't fit one of the people in the group he is clear about it

"Here is Gemini, a social butterfly. Here is Ashlyn. A Gemini. I love Ashlyn, but like a year ago I have actually seen you jump a fence to avoid a group of people who go to our high school without thinking, and I would say that needs an intervention but you'd also avoid it by jumping a fence." "..."

The presentation itself is long as hell. Like he goes in depth about everything that he talks about, and if you interrupt him, he will shoot you with a spray bottle. Did I mention there's a group spray bottle? Guess why they have one.

Somehow, he is still only the second longest presentation.

Group's Reaction

Taylor is his biggest hypeman. I feel like she'd also enjoy astrology a bit, too, though she's more of a casual fan. She is also one of the few people who is free from Logan's jabs.

Ben is also free from his jabs because he helped him with the laptop, which, thank god, because Logan was about to lose it. I don't think he really believes in astrology. The most he knows is his sun sign on the surface level. He is invested, though.

Don't think Ash is very interested in astrology either, and at some points in his presentation, he just loses her attention.

Tyler gets sprayed at least twice with the spray bottle because he gets defensive. Surprisingly, I do think he would be somewhat interested and knowledgeable about his star signs at least, mainly because he had to deal with Taylor when she went through an astrology phase (let me tell you it was brutal).

Aiden is also interested and engaged in the presentation, but maybe a little too much. What I mean is that he interrupts at points and is the reason why the spray bottle exists. Logan is flattered, but istg Aiden if you interrupt this man one more time...

By the end of the two presentations, the group is in pretty high spirits and having a good time, despite the fact that two of them are a bit wet.

Logan's laptop, however, is not, and just as they were setting up Ben's powerpoint, it decides that it was a good time to perform a mandatory update and restarts.

Absolute silence.

You could hear a pin drop.

And all eyes go to Logan.

"..."

"..."

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!"

Long story short, the presentations have to be postponed for around an hour and forty-eight minutes (maybe you never know with computers), and Logan is taking a walk.