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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 5 months

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Hello! can you do a scenario where giyu is already promised to y/n by kagaya in an betrothed announcement in one of their hashira meetings, but every other hashira is trying to either convince force or kidnapped the reader into marrying them? This is due to y/n having the ability to heal others and kagaya wants more healers since no one has ever heard of such a power and the amount of slayers being killed. So in order to create more offsprings with this ability he sets up a betrothed that you and giyu agreed to. But the other hashira are jealous and want in on y/n’s whole future in the matter.

Healer’s Dilemma w/ Fem Reader | Yandere Demon Slayer

Kagaya wouldn’t forcefully marry you, even if that’s what someone in his position would do

You born without his curse illness and with some miraculous ability to heal

He’d rather not force you to hide your gift when you can help his other children or the world for that matter

But he knows how desirable you might be

Not only to Muzan as a link to Kagaya but to many who would intend to do exactly what you’d both hate most

Kagaya, your dearest Papa cares deeply for you

And he fights for your freedom

Even if it leads you to find a different kind of love with someone else

“Papa I wish to marry Giyuu Tomioka, the Water Hashira.”

“...This is your decision my daughter?”

“Yes, Papa. I want to marry him more than anything!”

“I could never fight your earnesty…then I give my blessing.”

He knows about the others obsessions

he doesn’t need to see it when he can feel it

Giyuu mentions the leave he’ll be taking at the next meeting

“Ah how unfortunate for (Y/n) to be married to a wet sack like Tomioka-san.”

“Tch sounds to me like ya knocked her up, to get that ring.”

“Sanemi!”

“Please everyone. Do not disrespect (Y/n)-sama.”

“S-sorry Tomioka.”

“...”

“Hah, but if that…requirement hasn’t been met then…if another did it’d surely nullify any other petty engagement…Right?”

“...”

“If any of you try anything I will decapitate you as I do demons. Don’t. Try. It.”

“Whoa so scary, Tomioka-san! Too bad no one was listening.”

It’ll be a collective effort to protect your engagement

It’d be even more interesting when the hashira soon realize just how determined you are to have your freedom

“My Papa let me choose. He promises to let me be free. I will not have any of you get in my way!”

#yandere hashira #yandere demon slayer #yandere kny #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere giyuu tomioka #yandere kagaya #yandere uzui tengen #yandere mitsuri kanroji #yandere sanemi shinagazawa #yandere shinobu kocho #yandere gyomei himejima #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere gyomei

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chiikasevennn · 10 days

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Ironically Horny

Sung Jinwoo x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): SMUT, 18+, YK THE DRILL 🙄😠 (i hate writing but woowoo x reader/oc writers are not that many and it kills me), ugly writing i did not proofread anything, aphrodisiac, no plot just porn, belly bulge, lmk if I'm missing smth else! Thanks

A/N: guys, idk what i'm doing /srs, so please beware—I might be insane as I wrote this. I'M LOOKING AT YOU. This ain't canon ok? Also, [N. Name] means nickname!! Guys, pls comment....

"Hu… angh!" You clenched the bedsheets abrasively as you realized that indulging feeling kick in your lower belly again.

A bulge continuously vanished and reappeared with each thrust this bastard, Sung Jinwoo, gave you. With a numb mind, you looked at the headboard with your eyes remained moist with tears as the raven haired man ruin you completely with his cock.

He was big. A bit too big.

"Jin'oo, ah… hic," your head attempted to raise but failed and fell flat against the pillow. The sound of his grunting made you weak although you knew this sort of act wasn't romantic at all.

Jinwoo flipped your body, making you view his rock-hard and impressive abs—but he realized that it was completely useless as you clearly couldn't even see it properly as your mind had gone blank long ago because of his relentless pounding.

In the stillness of the night, his rough shoving echoed through your bedroom. Jinwoo watched you cry, you, who was always tough-looking.

Jinwoo traced his fingers along your neck and placed a hickey there. He did it once, twice, and before he knew it, he couldn't stop until he realized he finally came again for the nth time.

So, how did you guys end up like this? Well—

"What the—I-I'm poisoned?" Your displeasure was clear as Jinwoo looked at you, and it appeared that you were looking at your system albeit not visible in his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"System said ordinary potions wouldn't work, not to mention, I'm no healer either."

"What?"

You contemplated the words written on the blue screen despite the multiple times you've analyzed it. When new words began to appear and soon you understood, your face went pale.

"[Name]?" Jinwoo had never seen you like this before. He felt a knot of worry twisting in his stomach. It was so unlike you to be this troubled.

"Jinwoo, please kill me."

"What???"

He saw your lifeless eyes, as if you failed to accept something too deep. "Kill me. Living is already humiliating enough."

"What's wrong with you? What did the system say, anyway?"

"I'd…" cheeks burning in mortification, you ended up crouching. "Oh, Lords, this is so fucking embarrassing. The hell." You whispered the last part.

You cursed like a mantara and Jinwoo watched as you slowly lost your mind.

"Just—" he almost sighed. "What does it say?"

"I… I have to…" The other player had never once witnessed you falter with your words nor look as if you wanted to disappear right this instant. "Sex… Do intimate shit. Oh…? …! Fuck, it also told me it's not poison, but an aphrodisiac!"

Jinwoo was speechless.

"... Where in the world am I gonna find a sex partner?"

That was a problem, until he offered himself.

He was just being… helpful.

Your body trembled. Letting out a strangled moan, your eyes began to be coated with tears as you recognized Jinwoo's hot spill inside of you beginning to form.

He was a quick learner, once he grasped how much touching your clit and hitting that sweet spot slightly above pleasured you, he didn't back down. No, not after he was told that possible complications might arise if he didn't help you sooner. Not to mention, there was a time limit. A time limit that he had to cum inside you (he was given 2 hours to spill his seed inside for at least 7 times, just what the fuck?) to cure whatever dilemma that monster had thrown at you. It was ridiculous.

Initially, he didn't think it'd work in one hundred and twenty minutes, but after he'd made you cum and squirt for the first time, God knew how much he wanted you right then and there.

One more to go. Jinwoo pulled you closer to his pelvis, not daring to pull his cock out. Sweat was all over the two of you, but he had no time to stop, for he only had 10 minutes left to finish this.

He unexpectedly stopped his plan momentarily when you whined. What? Had he lost track? Maybe you were starting to get uncomfortable since he'd been rough on you for almost two hours. He should stop—

"Jin'oo…" you sobbed softly. He swore he'd never seen anything so beautiful before. "'t hurts… Hurry… D-don't stop… Please."

He looked down at you like a predator and breathed heavily at the sight of you. He sat up, shoulders broad as he held your waist, his dick twitching inside you. Was he getting worked up? Fuck.

Ablush crept up to his face at your adorable begging, but he knew you were out of consciousness as we speak. If you keep nicely pleading him to fuck you, then he might not be able to stop.

He scrutinized your gorgeous body that he secured in his hold. Jinwoo tried to push his dick deeper to which you cried at—and seeing that bulge on your lower stomach made him slightly (so) proud. It was nice that he could touch something that could stand as a proof that he was inside you.

"You…" He leaned down and kissed your temple. You grabbed his cheek and caught his lips into a deep kiss. Jinwoo wasn't able to help himself but return the gesture with equal reason.

The raven haired man didn't pull away until he felt your breath running out and again, he blushed red as he gazed at your panting situation.

He ruined you in a good way.

"Let's finish this, all right?" He kissed your temple so sweetly. "I'm sorry, I have to go rougher since we only have a few minutes left, but I can't risk any future difficulty happening to you, [N. Name]."

You nodded eagerly, and before you knew it, you were being pounded into oblivion again.

#sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #smut #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling #idk what I'm doing ok?#sung jinwoo smut

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kana-daydreams · 1 month

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𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 || 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨

summary: Satoru comes home to see you wearing his blindfold. genre: fluff cw: none? Just some affectionate smooching. wc: 1.8k

With arms and legs sprawled out like a lifeless starfish across the plush cream carpet of Satoru’s bedroom, an audible sigh sounds past your lips at a pestering memory that has been swimming through your mind for the last couple of days.

“You guys have been dating for how long now?”

Outside at a frequented cafe front, shaded under its thick green awning from the heat of the summer sun, you peered across at Shoko who sat in the seat opposite your own with a cigarette tucked between her fingers.

Both of you were on a short lunch break, relieving yourselves of the taxing demands of your jobs as Jujutsu High’s only two proficient healers.

“…a month.” Your answer came out in a timid reply and sounded more like a question as you hid your embarrassed expression behind your extra large cup of iced coffee.

Shoko hummed and you watched as she took a long drag of her cigarette that burned away inches near the butt, a puff of smoke exhaling past her lips.

“Known each other for five years—been dating for a month,” she muses. “And still, he hasn’t made a move?”

You winced at her words. “No. He hasn’t.” You averted your eyes, confirming the disappointing reality that you and your boyfriend, Satoru Gojo, were yet to explore any forms of romantic intimacy beyond that of hugs and chaste kisses.

“You’re going over to his place this weekend, right?”

You direct your attention back at Shoko. “Yeah…”

“Then shoot your shot.” Shoko stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray in front of her.

Your brows wrinkled at her words. “Huh?”

“Make the first move.” She clarified and was not surprised when she watched you with tired eyes instantly blurted out the words “Impossible! Never! No!” in one breath, loud enough to garner the attention of the cafe’s other patrons around you.

The embarrassing moment as you recall it, makes your face warm, especially at your friend’s suggestion — ‘Make the first move.’

An action you didn’t think yourself capable of doing unless you were willing to die from a massive heart attack.

But still.

You wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss your boyfriend.

What it would feel like to have Satoru’s lips pressed against yours.

And what he would taste like.

Sweet, maybe?

You trace the tip of a finger absentmindedly along your lower lip, and when you realise you’re acting like a perverted old man (well woman in your case), you release a frustrated kind of cry.

You pull yourself to sit up, shaking your head to stop yourself from thinking too much about your dilemma. And decide to distract yourself until Satoru gets back from the short-noticed mission he’d left your cuddle session to attend to.

Momentarily, your endeavour leads you to seek interest near a dresser tucked away near one corner of the room.

The large mirror above it captures the reflection of a woman attired in an oversized Tee and pyjama pants donning a strip of black cloth tied loosely around the upper half of her face, while her swagger-like poses mirrors your own.

Snap!

Your phone snaps a few times and after a couple more snaps, you raise the blindfold you adorn a bit to look at your work. “I can’t wait to send these to Toru.” You scroll through the ton of pictures you’ve just taken, giggling at the reaction Satoru would pull when he sees them.

“Maybe I should do a video?” You muse before acting on the thought as you reattach your phone to the tripod on the dresser, tap the record button, and pull down your—Satoru’s blindfold.

You then arrange your body in a pose dripping with arrogance and confidence—and of course a lot of rizz. And commence your act when the timer runs down.

“I. am. the strongest!” You attempt to say in a deep voice but fail.

You stop the video and clear your throat. You do a few voice checks then repeat the filming process.

“Don’t worry baby boo, sugar lumps, my apple pie.” You give the camera a smug look , biting down seductively on your lips and say in a deep, gruff voice. “You know who I am?” You glance at the camera head-to-toe. “Well baby girl, I’m the strongest.”

“Hey! I do not sound like that.”

You freeze, startled at the real masculine voice that suddenly comes from behind you. And you slowly pivot your body around, raising the right side of the blindfold an inch to see none other than a tall figure with snow-white hair and a black blindfold that matches your own, standing at the entrance of the room with furrowed brows and cheeks puffed from a playful pout.

“Toru, you’re home!” You can’t help but giggle at your boyfriend’s childish reaction before, pausing the video, crossing the room in a few strides and throwing your arms around him in a tight embrace.

Satoru wraps his arms around your smaller frame being careful not to ruin the pink sparkly gift bag you were yet to notice in his hand containing a gift he’d gotten you during his mission. He then leans down to your height, touching a soft kiss to your forehead. “I see my baby’s missed me.” He smiles.

“Of course I did.” Your words are muffled against his broad chest, a satisfied smile gracing your face from the gentle feel of his kiss.

“Here. I’ve got you something.”

You unwillingly pull away from Satoru and fully tug the blindfold down to see the gift bag he holds towards you.

You retrieve it from his hands, peering into it to see brown doe eyes staring back at you.

“Toru, it’s so cute!” You squeal as you free the fluffy stuffed toy from its sparkly confines, cuddling it against your chest. “I love it!”

Satoru’s face beams at your response, the corners of his lips stretching into a somewhat bashful smile. “I’m so happy my baby likes it.” He says before his attention shifts to his spare blindfold that hangs around your neck, remembering that a moment ago he’d walked in on you rizzing up his mirror. “So what’s with the blindfold?”

“Oh, this?” Your fingers find themselves fiddling with the piece of said fabric. “I was just messing around.” You wave a hand dismissively at him, leaving his side to lay the toy against a plush pillow on the bed further across the room.

“You were that bored, huh?” Satoru chuckles as he trails behind you, before a teasing smirk winds its way onto his face. “How needy. I didn’t know my pretty girl would be so lonely without me. Maybe next time I’ll give you a body pillow with my face on it.”

Your face steams at his words, and you whirl around to meet his shadowed gaze. “I am not needy. I was simply bored, okay.” You cross your arms and jut out your lips—your plump and very, very kissable lips—Satoru thinks, finding it hard to peel his gaze off them. But reluctantly does when a thought clicks to mind.

“I’m sorry babe. You’re not that needy.” Satoru apologises and gently takes one of your hands, raising it to his lips before pressing a tender kiss on the back of your palm. “By the way, I’ve got another surprise for you. Do…you want it?”

“I won't be bribed, Toru.”

“C’mon baby. I think you’ll really like it.” He releases your hand to clasp his together and says in a sing-song voice, “And besides, I really, really would like to give it to you.”

“Is it food? Money?”

Satoru chuckles at your words. “You’ll see, but…” he drawls. “You’ve gotta put the blindfold back on.”

You arch a sceptical brow at that.“Why?”

You know Satoru.

And you know he’s probably scheming something—you can see it in the way the corners of his mouth curve up into an I’m-up-to-something smile.

“‘Cause…” He drags. “It's a gift I can’t give you unless you put the blindfold back on.”

His words don't make much–any– sense to you, but eventually, you relent after losing a minute–long staring competition between his translucent ocean-blue eyes and your own, persuaded by the pleading expression of your strikingly handsome and adorable Toru.

You sigh in defeat when Satoru finishes securing his blindfold with a loose knot across your eyes.“Now what?”

Your question is answered by Satoru's large hands reeling you in by your hips with gentle care, drawing you close and into his firm body.

The feeling of his strong arms circling your waist follows, leaving you to settle the palms of your hands against his chest. And with the little space left between your bodies, the soothing scent of him and a hint of his masculine cologne wraps itself around you, cloaking your senses like a fuzzy blanket.

“Don’t tell me this is the surprise?”

“So what if it is. My hugs are the best.” He says rather smugly and you can’t help but chuckle lightly at that.

“Yeah, they are.” You lean in closer to his soothing warmth.

A kiss to your forehead follows your boyfriend’s loving and comforting embrace, and a pleased hum leaves you at the affectionate gesture—you’ve always adored his forehead kisses.

Another kiss, equally as loving and tender is pressed to your blindfolded eyes, one at a time and your face scrunches slightly when he next, unexpectedly, plops a wet one to your nose.

“Toru!” You giggle, giggling some more when he kisses your nose again before moving to pepper feather-light kisses to your cheeks. Though your jubilant laughter abruptly cuts short when his lips start to slowly trail soft kisses along your jawline. One of the many parts of your body that has never been touched by his lips.

Heat rises up your neck and settles at your cheeks when his kisses continue to trace along your sensitive skin, burning more furiously when you feel his warm breath caress the right corner of your mouth.

He gives it a peck which makes your heart stutter.

“T-Toru?”

“Hm?” Satoru hums in response, and you feel the sensation of it vibrate against your skin.

“Is…Is this the surprise?” You question a second time, your voice a bit shaky as you do.

Satoru presses a kiss, this time to the left corner of your mouth. “Nope.”

“Then…what’s the sur—”

Your words are muffled when Satoru’s soft lips connect to yours. And your heart leaps, your face burning as both your lips meld together in a slow and tender kiss. A pleasant sensation for both you and Satoru short-lived when he pulls away, the deep blush that colours almost his entire face, obscured from your view by the black blindfold on your own.

His forehead presses gently against yours. “That is.” He says almost breathless, referring to your unfinished question, before capturing your lips in another and this time, much longer, deeper—and addictively sweeter kiss.

#𓇻 kana's jjk ddrms #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk satoru

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prythianpages · 3 months

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The Sun & the Moon | Rhysand x Reader

summary: Rhysand wants to write you the perfect poem for Valentine's Day and calls up Cassian and Azriel for help.

warnings: fluff and some implied smut/mainly suggestive tones.

Happy Valentine's Day! ♡

a/n: So I got a little ahead of myself because this can be read as a stand alone (all you have to know is that reader is a healer from Dawn Court.) But it is a part of my Wanna Be Yours series. All because I saw this tiktok sound of this poem and found it so beautiful. I did not write this poem, all credit goes to this creator. I also wanted to write a scene of Rhys struggling to write a poem (I had some saved on pinterest) in part two but had to scrap the scene out for other ones. Now, it's a win-win situation. Don't worry, there are not really spoilers in here for what I have planned. Just know this takes place after their happy ending (:

Valentine’s Day is approaching and Rhysand finds himself facing an unprecedented dilemma. Getting you a gift. A gift as special and perfect as you.

The pressure is high, and the responsibility lies squarely on his shoulders, particularly given the mating gift he presented to you. An expansive estate, where everything–the architecture, the decor, and furniture seamlessly marries the celestial essence of the sun and moon. The grand house paints an exquisite portrait of dawn, reflecting the enchanting blend of your old court and now new one.

So naturally, given his stress, he calls upon his brothers for help.

“You called us here because you don’t know what to get y/n for Valentine’s? y/n, your mate?” Cassian asked, carrying a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“I thought this was important,” came from Azriel.

Rhysand shoots Azriel a pointed look. “This is important.”

Azriel raises an eyebrow while Cassian grins. The two exchange a knowing glance that hinted at a shared understanding. Just as Rhysand prepared to delve into their minds to unravel their thoughts, they turned their attention back to him, nodding in unison.

"Alright, Rhys," Cassian began, clearing his throat dramatically, "How about flowers?”

Rhysand slumps into his desk chair, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I get her flowers every week.”

Cassian mirrors Rhysand, seating himself on one of the chairs across from him. He throws his hands up in the air. “Then, I don’t know.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“How about you gift her something a little more sentimental?” Azriel offers. He crosses his arms deep in thought, resting his chin on one hand. “Something small but meaningful.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes light up, the silver specs in his irises glimmering like stars. “Like a poem! Y/n loves poetry."

The library in your home is stocked with a vast amount of poetry. Mainly romantic ones and then, the initial enthusiasm gives way to a fading spark.

Expressing the depth of his feelings verbally comes naturally to Rhysand. His silver-tongued declarations never fail to effortlessly convey how much you mean to him. He is the master of tone and inflection when it comes to expressing his feelings for you and when those are not enough, he loves to show you. Often. With that silver-tongue of his.

However, the transition to writing felt like a different art form altogether. It was challenging because how could he successfully capture the nuances of his love for you in writing? When he'd rather show you...

Rhysand runs a hand through his already disheveled hair, a frown creasing his face. He wants to do this for you but--

“I’ve never written a poem before.”

He looks up to Azriel for help, who in return merely shrugs with a smirk. “I don’t resort to poetry.”

“Oh! I got it!” Cassian, on the other hand, leans forward in his seat with nothing but pure mischief reflected in his gaze. “How about this? Roses are red, violets are blue. y/n, my love, I’m obsessed with you.”

The silence was loud. And then Azriel’s deep laughter fills the air. He finally takes a seat next to Cassian’s, sensing this is going to take awhile. “That is terrible.”

“Absolutely,” Rhysand agrees, his expression defeated. It doesn’t stop him from summoning a quill, ink and paper right in front of Cassian. “But jot that down...just in case.”

As the trio delved deeper into their poetic endeavors, Rhysand's frustration grew. Cassian's attempts became increasingly cheesy. Meanwhile, Azriel just sat back and watched, his shadows peeking curiously over Cassian’s and Rhysand’s papers. He would give his input when necessary, more inclined towards laughter than actually helping.

Nearly two hours later and drowning in parchment full of scribbled attempts at poetry, Rhysand lets out an exasperated sigh, finally excusing Cassian and Azriel. They leave all too quickly, slipping away before Rhysand could retract the words of dismissal that had escaped him.

There’s still a frown in his brow as his eyes graze over all the poems him and Cassian wrote together. He couldn't bear the thought of presenting any of these creations to you. The inked words on paper seemed to mock the depth of his feelings, failing to capture his love for you.

His eyes flutter shut as he allows his thoughts to drift toward you. The clock's hands have nudged past noon, and the familiarity of your daily rhythm dances in his mind. He knows your schedule as you know his. It’s right after your lunch so he knows you’re at your desk.

A mental portrait forms, capturing you leaning forward at your desk. Maybe a touch hunched over as you read over a patient's reports with that adorable furrow in your brow. There’s a window right behind you and given the sun is currently at its peak, he can imagine how it glows upon you like a radiant spotlight.

And when your eyes grow tired from reading, he can already picture the way you’d lean back in your chair, spinning around to face the sun. Your eyes would be fluttering shut like his at this moment. The sun would now be shining on you, its golden hues cascading upon you in an ethereal glow where every beloved feature is highlighted. A living embodiment of warmth and brilliance.

You're his sun but you’re also his moon.

His eyes snap open, his grip on the quill tightening. Before he knows it, words are spilling effortlessly onto the blank parchment in front of him as he lets his emotions flow. He feels a tug down the bond, as if you could sense his thoughts, and with a smile, he echoes the sentiment. He couldn’t wait for you to read it.

Valentine’s day dawns a week later, and Rhysand’s excitement for you to read his poem is palpable. It took all his restraint not to give it to you as soon as he finished it.

Unfortunately, you weren’t able to take the day off. It didn’t matter as your plans for tonight were simple–just a lovely dinner together, made by Rhysand, in the privacy of your home. All that mattered is that you had tomorrow off.

Rhysand waits for you right outside the steps of the clinic, not wanting to distract you from your last reports. He could feel your presence grow nearer and nearer through the bond. He tugs on it, a silent urge to pull you to him faster. The door opens and you’re rushing down the steps to meet him.

Throwing your arms around his neck, you bury your head into his chest, inhaling softly. He feels his heart flutter and he tightens his arms around you, holding you close in his embrace. “Hi, love,” you murmur.

He pulls away, cradling your face in his hands. He smiles and then kisses you, pouring all his love and devotion to you. A promise of what’s to come later. “Hey, beautiful. You ready to go home?”

“Always. As long as it’s with you,” you tell him, voice still breathless as your hand effortlessly entwines with his.

Rhysand’s lips twitch and he finds himself melting at your words. Instinctively, he averts his gaze, warmth flooding his cheeks as he bites his lip. He intended to walk you home as Velaris had decorated the streets with hearts, flowers and pink garland. He gives your hand a squeeze and winnows you both directly to the comfort of your home instead.

He reluctantly lets you go so that you can wash up and change.

When you join him in the dining room, the glamor he had placed earlier lifts, revealing an exquisite dinner that has your stomach growling. Cute hearts, flowers and confetti adorn the table and walls around you, filling your heart with a cozy glow.

As his gaze lifts from the table, his eyes widen, pupils flaring.

“Come here, you,” he breathes, pushing his chair back just enough for you to have space to settle onto his lap.

“I’m hungry,” you say, a small warning delivered with a touch of mirth. His eyes sparkle at you with an unmistakable gleam as he drags a finger up the fabric of your red dress. But your body betrays your words, leaning in to his teasing touch.

“Me too," Rhysand replies with a smirk and it's evident he's not referring to the food plated in front of you.

Your stomach growls and he chuckles, resting his hand on your waist instead. “Let’s eat then.”

The two of you dive into the dinner Rhysand made, feeding each other and catching up with one another. You’re nearly in a food coma, collapsing into Rhysand’s chest when you're done. He rests his head on your shoulder, his strong arms securing their place around your waist.

“I got you something,” he whispers against your neck, lifting his head only to speak his next words. “Well, I wrote you something.”

“You wrote something for me?”

He takes delight in the surprise and excitement in your voice. Raising a hand, he retrieves his valentine card from the pocket realm. The only place he deemed fit to hide his poem for you. He’s too busy pressing his lips against your neck, to hide the giddiness he feels inside, to notice his mistake.

“Roses are red. Violet’s are–”

“Not that one!” Rhysand exclaims, body tensing behind you as he rips it from your hands. “I did not write that one!"

You can’t help but laugh. “Then who did?”

“Cas.”

“Cassian wrote a poem for me?” You reply, eyes widening slightly as you shift in his lap to face him. You're thankful the dress you chose has a loose skirt as it allows you to move freely and settle a thigh on either side of him.

“Gods, no,” Rhysand groans, cursing himself for not discarding that poem once he had written his. He leans forward, burying his head into your chest for a moment to hide his embarrassment.

“I asked Cas and Az for help. I didn’t know what to get you because–well, you’re perfect to me and nothing could ever amount to the love I feel for you. Az suggested I give you something small but meaningful and I know how much you love poems but I’ve never written one so then–”

You interrupt Rhysand with a soft and sweet kiss. When you pull away, Rhysand chases after you but you stop him, pressing your fingers his lips. He plants a kiss on your fingers, holding your gaze.

“Let me read it. The poem you actually wrote.”

“Okay,” Rhysand breathes as he summons another red envelope from the pocket realm. He holds it out to you. “But don’t laugh.”

“Never,” you reassure him as you take the envelope, fingers eagerly tearing it open.

He watches with bated breath, a cascade of emotions swirling within him, as your eyes gracefully traverse from left to right, absorbing every emotion he poured out to you. It's endearing—the tender way your expression, while immersed in his poem, mirrors the very sentiment he wore on his face while crafting it for you. Your lips curve into a radiant smile, and the spark in your eyes begins to glisten with heartfelt tears. In that moment, he can feel the ripples through your shared bond, overwhelming and flooding with an abundance of pure, unbridled love.

“I love it,” you manage to say as you lift your gaze to meet his again. Holding the poem to your chest, you store into the safety of your pocket realm. “I’m going to frame it.”

“I love you,” Rhysand says and then kisses you. “So, so much.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper against his lips and then wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him even closer to you. “Now, it’s my turn to give you your gift.”

this is the poem:

"If the sun and moon had a baby, it would be you.

Cause you are so beautiful.

You radiate light like the sun.

And you bring me calmness like the moon.

You balance me out like the earth and that’s just the beginning of everything you do.

I think that you’re so gorgeous and sometimes it brings tears to my eyes.

Because how could I get so lucky to have someone so beautiful like you in my life.”

a/n: I thought this poem was really cute, especially given the sun/moon theme of this series. It's 11:58pm where I live so technically, I made it before Valentine's Day was over lol. I apologize if there are any typos. I tend to make them a lot and switch words out (like I caught myself writing lips instead of lap) when I'm tired. This is exactly the type of vibe i'm going for, for Rhys in this series. It's a scene from a kdrama, where the male fell hard first for the female and he's totally endeared by her. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

tagging: @minnieoo , @phoenixgurl030 (I know this isn't part two but I tagged y'all just in case, y'all were interested ♡)

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #rhysand imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #acotar fanfiction #rhysand fanfiction #rhys wby au

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

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hey jd, how do we feel about aemond finding out that aegon put his hands on you? granted, you’re just a servant girl and it’s not the first time he’s harassed the help, but what would happen? huh? 👀 -@pluvialpoet

word count: 2.2k

warnings: implied/vaguely described smut, implied SA of some kind, hurt/comfort, brief suicidal ideation, heavy angst, friends to lovers, way too much wholesomeness, not exactly breeding kink but mentions of pregnancy/babies

"I'll fucking kill him," Aemond decided. "I finally will, I'll do it."

"No, you won't," you sighed as you rested your hands on his shoulders. "That wouldn't do anyone any good."

"It would do me some fucking good," he insisted, nostrils flaring and uncovered eye wide with fire, "knowing that no man who has touched you lives."

"He did it to anger you, Aemond," you explained flatly, holding on tighter to him and trying not to notice the way it made your broken heart race. "Don't give in to him— you'd only be giving him what he wants." Just as I did... but I had no choice.

He looked away quickly, so you couldn't see his eye at all, and for a second you thought he might be getting choked up. "So it is my fault, then," he realised.

"No!" you yelped. "No, I didn't mean—"

"He knows that I care for you," Aemond whispered shakily. "Better than I do, he knows, and he wants to use you to hurt me. It's why I never..."

He swallowed, turning away from you, and you reached up to his shoulder. "I thought you would tell me anything, Aemond. Tell me."

It was a promise you'd made well over a decade ago, when you were just children. That was when it all started: this bizarre, impossible friendship. Back then, it didn't seem so strange to you that a servant girl and the prince could be friends, but the longer it went on, the more you both became aware of how forbidden it all really was. It never stopped you, though. Yes, it made you more cautious— only meeting in dark, quiet places, or secluded corners of the gardens— but it never made you any less close. He shared with you the fears, the dreams, the prayers he could not tell his own family; and you, just the same, though you had no family left after your mother succumbed to illness. Even the other servants didn't approve of your friendship with the prince, so you had to hide it from them at well— if they suspected he favoured you in any way, they would exploit you at best, or take some kind of revenge at worst. Still, he snuck into the kitchens when you were cooking to steal bites of fruit and cheese while he talked to you; still, you scrubbed the floors by his chambers in the morning just in case he wanted to come out and sit down nearby, leaning against the wall and giving you advice on the latest dilemma of your life (of which you had several, often one after the other if not overlapping).

That promise to tell each other anything, and everything, you made it in a tree in the gardens. He loved to climb as a boy, and you couldn't keep up but he always held your hand when you were afraid to fall. That was your tree, and it was where you found him, crying, after he'd seen the scar over his eye for the first time. He'd kept a brave face about it all— about the bullying, about his fear he'd never have a dragon of his own, about how angry and terrified he was about what had happened to his face— from the beginning. He didn't even let his mother in on the truth of his feelings, telling her not to be upset about his eye because he wasn't, either. But the lie of indifference that he'd so carefully constructed fell apart in a moment when the healers showed him the barely-healed scar. He climbed your tree alone, to the highest branch, and sobbed— which, by the way, was excruciating with his wound— as he wondered if he should pitch himself from his height and hope it was enough to end everything.

But when he looked down at the ground again, you were standing in the middle of the green grass, staring up at him. "I'm cross with you!" you informed him plainly, balling up your little fists and shouting.

He sniffled and wiped his eye quickly, covering the other with the patch the healers had given him— he didn't want you to see him like this, he didn't want anyone to see him like this. "With me?" he repeated with a shaky voice. "What... what did I do?"

"You climbed our tree by yourself!"

He laughed a little, even through the tears. "I found this tree first," he reminded you proudly, "I showed it to you! I said, look at this tree I found."

"Yes, but it's our tree now," you explained, "and you shouldn't be in it by yourself. I can't get up there without your help!"

Rolling his eye to feign irritation with your ineptitude, he navigated himself down a bit until he could reach out for your hand and help pull you up. When you were sitting together among the branches, you eventually coaxed the truth out of him, about everything he'd been afraid to admit to anyone. He seemed to think he would be fearless if he simply told no one what he was really afraid of; but that hadn't worked, had it? The boys still taunted him for having no dragon, and he still lost his eye. The only thing that had changed was that he had to go it all alone. Until now.

"You have to promise not to hide anything from me again," you decided. "We have to tell each other everything. Even the things we're scared to tell anybody... that's the stuff that matters most, anyway."

"Okay," he agreed. "How are we going to swear on it?"

You tilted your head in confusion.

"We have to swear on something," he decided, "or it's just something we're saying."

"I'll swear on my life," you decided. "I'll die before I ever hide something from you, or tell you a lie."

He seemed hesitant. "Can I hide one thing from you, at least?"

"No!"

He frowned. "At least let me wait to show you."

He reached up to the patch shakily, and you realised what it was he wanted to hide. "Okay... that can wait, until it's healed better. But you need to swear on your life!"

"All right! I will!" he groaned, frustrated by your insistence. "I swear, on my life, I'll tell you everything from now on. And never lie to you."

"Or you'll die," you added, smiling with a grin that was missing a tooth or two that had fallen out recently.

"Or I'll die," he agreed. For the first time since he saw that scar, he didn't want to die.

But even then, you couldn't have known how much more complicated things would become. Now you were grown— faster than you should've been— and Aegon, jealous of the affection you shared, had tried to spoil it all. It was the first time since you made that promise that you really considered hiding something from Aemond, being both ashamed of what had occurred and terrified of how your best friend would react.

"Please, tell me," you begged him as your hand held tighter onto his shoulder.

He almost scared you with how fast he turned around, how he clutched your arms and yet couldn't look you in the face. "I never told anyone," he whispered harshly, "how I felt about you. I never wanted to break our promise— it was just to keep you safe, I need you to be safe, do you understand?"

Though you had to bite your lip to keep it from quivering, you nodded.

"But if he knows..."

Your eyes welled with tears, trying not to see Aegon's face in your mind, the horrible way he'd looked at you.

"I should tell you," Aemond decided. "I should tell you that I've fallen in love with you."

Before you could properly react to that, his hands clutched your face and wiped the tear that had begun to run down your cheek.

"He hates me for it," Aemond continued. "He hates that I'm in love with a servant girl and he can't even love his own wife. He hates us because he'll never know what we share. And he must have thought that if he forced himself on you, that he would understand, that he could know what kind of love we have. But he can't imagine that it's your mind I love, not your body. He can't imagine the beauty of your heart."

Crying harder, you reached up to hold onto his wrists. "Aemond..." you whispered.

"If you don't love me, don't tell me yet," he pleaded. "You can break our promise, just this once. Let me imagine for a night that I haven't ruined everything."

You pulled your hands away and plunged forward, slamming your lips onto his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He widened his eyes for a second before kissing you back, delicately holding your waist to keep you close. It was tender and sweet, even as you struggled to stop crying from the overwhelming emotion of the moment.

When you broke away, he pressed his forehead to yours, and you both shut your eyes. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you," he added, and you smiled.

"Weren't you afraid to die?" you joked.

"It felt like dying," he replied, opening his eyes again and examining you. "Having you so close, but not in the way I wanted... being able to keep you near but never hold you... it was worse than death, at times. I never wanted anyone to touch you but me."

Sighing shakily, you could hear your heartbeat in your ears louder than your own voice when you spoke. "Then touch me," you breathed. "I want you to."

His grip tightened on your waist, thumb petting your back, and you looked up at him expectantly. "My brother..." he trailed off. "I don't want to be like him. I don't want it to... be like that."

"It won't," you promised, "you're nothing like him. I want you to touch me, Aemond, please— I want to forget. Make me forget any touch but yours."

Pulling your body into his, guiding your head to tilt back, he kissed you again— deeper, hungrier, still slow but with this growing sense of desperation between the both of you.

He took you to the garden that night, pressed you up against your tree, and claimed you in the way you'd dreamed he would for years. He did more than make you forget Aegon, he made you forget everything that wasn't this moment; he held onto you so tightly and promised to never let you go, told you how beautiful you'd become, admitted how many years he'd spent longing for you but hiding his true feelings. You had so many things you wanted to say in return, but you were entirely lost for words the whole night— all you could do was cling to him and whine his name and run your fingers through his silky silver hair.

You spent the whole night in his arms; even when the sun was beginning to rise over the garden, he brought you to his chambers and took you once again there. Needless to say, he was exhausted after that, and passed out beside you on the mattress when he finally decided he couldn't go again. You were tired, too, but you couldn't sleep— you were so full of joy and excitement that you stayed awake and laid beside him, petting his hair and scratching his head and back as he slept. You didn't mean to wake him when you kissed his arm, but he turned and looked at you with a small smile. "Good morning," he mumbled in a deep, scratchy voice.

"It's well into the afternoon," you reminded him with a giggle. "You've slept all day."

He gave you a mischievous smirk as he pulled you closer, scooping you up into his arms and pressing your back to his chest. "Well, when you make love all night, that's the consequence, it seems," he explained.

His hand that held your chest moved down to your stomach, just under your belly button, and held you there as he leaned in closer to kiss your ear softly.

"There could be other consequences," he noticed.

You swallowed nervously. "Yes," you agreed, "but I could drink—"

"No," he interrupted, though he softened a second later. "I wish you wouldn't, at least not every time... I want it to take."

Your heart swelled. "But Aemond, you're a prince," you blurted out, looking over your shoulder at him, "and I'm only—"

"And you're my beloved," he whispered back, caressing your cheek with his hand and smiling at you. "And our child would be beautiful."

You smiled shyly, turning your body completely so you could hide your face in his neck. "Our child would be a bastard," you warned him.

"Our child would be a prince," he corrected, "our child would be made in love. Would you like that?"

You nodded against him, and he smiled as he kissed the top of your head. Finally, the need to sleep caught up with you after being up for so long; you ached inside and out, and with your head on his chest your eyes started to get heavier. You slept like you never had before, not because of the exhaustion— but because you'd never felt so safe.

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic

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bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls · 1 month

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I have enjoyed your blog for a while and wondered if I may get your advice on a dilemma I'm having.

A guy I've been chatting to for quite a while has asked me to be his pet slave. I have told him my limits and boundaries, and he says slaves don't get limits. He wants me to be his slave in and out of the bedroom. The situation is more complicated as we live over 20 miles from each other. I don't have a car, and I also have a young child. I have such anxiety about being his slave out of the bedroom as I have so many responsibilities. I'm scared I will constantly fail him due to attending to my child or my grandmother. I also care for 5 days a week, my household responsibilities, and all the things that come with the above. I also have very severe anxiety, which I take medication for as well as depression and am subject to weekly (almost) migraines and other health conditions. He owns a couple of businesses, and I'm just not sure how this would work. He seems confident it can work, and maybe it's just my anxiety talking, but I'm so scared that I will just fail him and disappoint him, and he'll leave.

Any advice would be greatly appreciated thank you for your time and sorry for going on a bit

Kiddo… wow. I don’t enjoy being this negative about someone you like, but… yikes.

You are not describing a serious man, sweetie.

You’ve been “chatting to [him] for quite a while”. Yet you either haven’t talked before about limitations, or you have talked about them and he bait-n-switched you once you were invested. In the former case, why the fuck is he soliciting you for unbounded sexual submission without even having some sort of preliminary discussion about Shit You Can’t Do, or How Others Will Be Affected? In the latter case, you can see how that makes him a malicious asshole, right?

Based on everything you’re saying, I’m assuming he didn’t ask you about your limits or boundaries. So do me a favor and think about how incurious he’d have to be to not bring it up. This is clearly not a deep thinker. You are a human being, who has accrued a collection of dependencies and responsibilities and passions and fears, all of which need to be addressed in some way when talking about enslaving you. You don’t cease to exist as both entity and necessity for your kid or grandma just ‘cause he says so. You shouldn’t need to ask a weird internet guy what to do… he should be listening to you, and should have already presented his broad-strokes plan for dealing with your concerns. But he hasn’t because he doesn’t care. Perhaps because he’s dumb, perhaps because none of this is real to him, perhaps because he your life doesn’t matter… whatever the case, you’ve got a problem.

If I poke a peanut down Blossom’s throat, there’s a decent chance she’ll die. (Or just wish she were dead.) Assuming I’m not out of my fucking mind, that’s a limit right there. I’m not a fucking faith-healer, and my semen —sadly— cannot cure her allergies… no matter how masterly my masterosity, one peanut = one dead piggy. So slaves not only “get” limits, they often come with them baked into their genes.

He can tell you what he expects of you, but he can’t tell you what “slaves” get. The world is full of service perverts who “get” all kinds of things he either can’t or won’t provide, and if you want any of them, you can have ‘em from someone else. His is not the only game in town, no matter how much he’d prefer you believe otherwise. This rejection of limitation is an aspect of this one man, not of sexual slavery in general.

Men who crave complete control should crave complete understanding. Absolutely nothing you’ve said suggests you feel understood.

I’m now going to give you the one piece of criticism I have to aim directly at you: it is ridiculous that you are so much as considering being someone’s “pet slave” when you have even one immutable, preeminent responsibility… much less two. Because yes, even if he were a thoughtful, empathetic, reasonable man, you’d still end up struggling to make him happy. Your world is busy and complicated, and adding him to the mix will make it dramatically more so… your relationship should be designed to give you lots of opportunities to succeed, but you’re setting yourself up for systemic failure.

It’s not just your anxiety talking. In the most charitable read of the situation, he is startlingly naive.

Stop worrying about him leaving, and start thinking about what it would take to make you stay. You should not involve yourself in all-consuming servitude out of submissive FOMO… you do it because he deserves your absolute devotion, and anything less is unthinkable. You’re nowhere close to that, and I don’t see how he’s even trying to get you there. He’s bringing you greater doubt, not certainty.

At the very least, he needs a reality check. Sit his ass down and insist he use his big-boy words to explain how he’s gonna fit in your world, how he’s gonna help you win, how he’ll use the inevitable losses to teach you lessons, and generally assure you that your very reasonable concerns are being very soberly considered and handled by a qualified adult.

And be careful. People are counting on you.

#asks #advice

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thedemonofcat · 9 months

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Decades had passed since Geralt's days of hunting monsters, and with the relentless march of technology and the growth of sprawling cities, the need for Witchers had dwindled to almost nothing.

For Geralt, it had been many years since he had semi-retired. His life had become relatively peaceful, starkly contrasting to the constant fear that once plagued him, the fear that his family would meet gruesome fates at the hands of the creatures he hunted. Yet, amidst the serenity, there were moments when loneliness crept in, moments when he couldn't help but feel adrift.

Dandelion, the bard who had been Geralt's closest friend and lover, had passed away long ago. Their time together had been filled with happiness, but Dandelion, being human, was bound by mortality. Geralt had done everything in his power to protect Dandelion from monsters, but there was no defence against the relentless advance of the disease. Dandelion had succumbed to illness, and Geralt's heart had shattered. Many years later, healers had developed a cure for the ailment that had claimed Dandelion's life, a cruel twist of fate that only deepened Geralt's sorrow.

Geralt had tried to move forward, to honour Dandelion's memory by finding happiness in life. He had Ciri, his brothers, and even a somewhat amicable relationship with Yennefer. But love, the kind of love he had shared with Dandelion, remained elusive.

Then, one fateful day while driving, Geralt heard a song on the radio sung by a rising star named Jaskier. To Geralt's astonishment, the voice singing the song was unmistakably Dandelion's. Unable to believe his ears, Geralt embarked on a quest to find this musician, driven by a hope he dared not voice.

To his surprise, Jaskier not only sounded like Dandelion; he was Dandelion, or at least appeared to be. The same visage, the same voice, and somehow, even the same scent. However, there was a significant hitch in their reunion – Jaskier had no memory of Geralt.

Desperate to unravel the mystery of how Dandelion had become Jaskier without unsettling the singer, Geralt faced a problem. He couldn't simply tell Jaskier the truth, that he might be the reincarnation of his long-dead lover.

This dilemma led Geralt to a seemingly logical solution. He decided to take on the role of Jaskier's bodyguard, a way to stay close to the bard without revealing his true identity, all the while yearning for the day when he might uncover the enigma that bound his beloved Dandelion to this new life as Jaskier.

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agnezluf · 9 months

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Elixir of the Sun

The Plot : 8/10

The yandere : 8/10

The artwork : 9/10

Artist : Song Yi

Author : Solddam, KONN, One (둥그라미)

I love my yandere to unconditionally infatuated with their love interest. I mean, there can be a reason or a trigger that kickstart their fascination, but down the line, “unconditional” love is what makes a yandere for me. This, of course as selfless as a yandere can be. I mean, how unconditional can a love be if he would rather confining you in a cage rather than letting you go?

However, yandere’s act of “selfishness” in my book is always rooted from their fear and inability to part from their love interests. This is the key of what makes a yandere for me. That is why, I am not 100% sold with Dhan, the main male character of Elixir of the Sun, being a pure-bred yandere man. I will tell you why.

In the Great Sun Empire, there is a tale of healer goddess called Siyo who is destined to be murdered and betrayed by her slaves. The slaves and Siyo have perished but their descendants are still living around the empire and its surrounding kingdoms. Bayan is an outcast in a Siyo village. She has different attributes and minimum healing skill. But fate brought her to the doorstep of the mad emperor of the Great Sun Empire, Dhan.

The plot itself is quite detailed and interesting with fantasy background. The earlier chapters are quite heart-wrenching, and successfully setting up Bayan’s tragic backstory. She will not meet Dhan until 20 chapters in, but I love slow burn when it is done right.

With the original Siyo’s traitor servant’s blood in his body, Dhan is cursed with the everlasting thirst that consumes his body. Not a single second in his life, he’s able to quench this thirst, until he got a taste of Bayan’s blood. Now, imagine you are in perpetual withdrawal and a person literally has a drug blood that can relieve the symptom. That is who/what Bayan is for Dhan initially.

I mean it is a nice set up for drama and angst, but not a satisfying yandere construct for me, especially when the yandere man is told to be in this state until the last few chapters. There also seems to be a minimal moral dilemma from making Bayan/siyo as a drug livestock.

Their relationship feels organic though. As a character, Bayan is a little bit of Mary Sue. A likeable Mary Sue, but still. I get why people love her. I get why Dhan seems to fall for her right from the beginning. Although I am not sure if it is mainly because of her blood… or perhaps both. Dhan is refreshingly pragmatic and smart, and I love it when the writer is showing these things rather than telling us.

Anyway, as a standalone story, this manhwa has a nice arc to follow, unique story line and a possessive as hell (but progressive) male lead. It might not be a satisfying yandere read for me due to the foundational flaw above, but who knows… you may like it more than I do as I tend to have some quirks about a story that are unusual.

So don’t let it deter you. Read it if you have not already. It is already completed and we are currently entering the side stories.

#male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere recommendations #maleyandere #yandereboy #yanderemale #nez manhwa review #elixir of the sun

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resonancewitness · 17 days

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dehumanisation and re-humanisation in MDZS/ CQL

this is, arguably, the main theme of the whole masterpiece

Being of mixed Eastern-European, Jewish and Roma (gypsy) descent, I easily see the ghost of Nazism in the Wen Clan supremacy. "We are the one and only supreme race/ clan, we are entitled to anything we fancy, and all others must prostrate themselves before us and surrender to our rule, otherwise they must be exterminated". "I give the orders here, and you all are nothing but my dogs", says Wen Chao. An extreme example of dehumanisation.

But the Jin Clan, using the remnants of the Wen clan (non-combatants, pacifists, healers) as bait, is also a blatant example of dehumanisation/ objectification practice. And, strangely enough,

most people there take it for granted, or even if they disagree, they do not actively protest. A nice demonstration of the definition of privilege ("when something is not considered a problem because it does not affect me personally").

The only person who openly objects to this and voices aloud the similarity in the dehumanisation practices of the Wen Clan and the Jin Clan, is Wei Wuxian, by that time already himself being objectified by the rumour-mongering mechanisms of "creating an enemy". He is a necromancer, doesn't this mean that he is treating people as objects?

The most amazing, for me, part of MXTX's masterpiece is that she gives the most clear and defined re-humanising stance to Wei Wuxian. All the Burial mounds settlement arc is based on Wei Wuxian staunchly refusing to deny the Wens their humanity. He treats them as human beings, deserving to have as much dignity as possible.

One of the very few people who fully understand this is Lan Wangji, and not the least important in this understanding is the seemingly small incident at the banquet, when Jin Zixun challenges the Lan brothers to drink with him. Lan Xichen is facing a dilemma: to say "Lan Wangji can't tolerate alcohol" means to publicly embarrass him, but to let him drink is to cause a complete loss of face. In CQL, the earlier drinking scene in Gusu is necessary to make Wei Wuxian the only person in the world to know what kind of laughingstock Lan Wangji turns into when drunk. So, coming into the banquet hall and swiftly evaluating the scene, Wei Wuxian drinks the cup meant for Lan Wangji, saving his face and protecting his dignity (...and this uncouth behaviour wouldn't tarnish Wei Wuxian's reputation much more that it is already tarnished, would it?). For Lan Wangji this becomes some sort of revelation.

When Wei Wuxian promises to bring back Wen Ning's consciousness, this is the most obvious re-humanisation project, in a way — the central line of the whole story. Wen Ning is the most soulful, gentle and humane walking corpse that ever existed. But at the same time, people who use dehumanisation as a normal modus operandi, think of Wen Ning as a tool, a weapon, a "knife". The whole part of the story of the relationship between Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning during Wei Wuxian's second life is about Wen Ning re-asserting his own agency over his life and choices, from kneeling before Wei Wuxian and calling him "master" to breaking his promise to him, choosing to honour his own values instead (and telling Jiang Cheng about the golden core), and finally choosing independence from Wei Wuxian.

But there is another re-humanisation project that Wei Wuxian is involved in, more subtle and possibly more difficult, from a certain point of view: re-humanisation of Lan Wangji. Because being made into the "epitome of perfection", into an example, — is also a form of dehumanisation and objectification. It is difficult to do, because Lan Wangji has internalised this practice and he constantly dehumanises himself in this way. Wei Wuxian's compassion, appreciation of merit and "flaws", and easy-going attitude creates a different environment in which Lan Wangji finds himself.

The same dehumanisation/ re-humanisation is the source of the tragedy of Lan Xichen. Whereas Jin Guangyao takes dehumanisation to a level of particular "finesse" (everyone for him is either an asset or a liability, a tool to advance himself or an obstacle to be removed), Lan Xichen's respect, friendship, trust and loyalty is a constant re-humanisation of him, — unfortunately, only in Lan Xichen's own mind.

#mxtx #mxtx meta #wei wuxian #lan wangji #lan xichen #jin guangyao #wen chao #wen ning #dehumanisation #dehumanization #re-humanisation #re-humanization #cql #mdzs

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crazy-as-a-jaybird · 5 months

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ok here goes nothing

@squealing-santa

merry Christmas, @allytheally

— — —

Fandom: Avatar the last airbender

Lee: Zuko

Ler: Katara

Word count: 1,200

Warnings: just tickling and mentions of an injury

Summary: Zuko can be grouchy about many things. Sunny days. Pain. Rest. Being cared for. Being cared for by Katara. Probably being tickled by Katara?..

timeline between ‘The Southern Raiders’ and ‘The Ember Island Players’

— ⭐ — ⭐ — ⭐ —

Zuko was preoccupied thinking about how much he hated his life. While it wasn't the newest feeling for him, he could see the conditions were becoming more and more ridiculous as the said life wore on. Screw firebending training. Screw Aang, even if he was the one to catch him before that uncalled for fall could end in something more severe than a twisted ankle. And if he didn't at least make fun of him afterwards (unlike a certain wolftail guy), instead trying to bring up how everyone trips sometimes, metaphorically or not, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. Pathetic.

Zuko had probably spent several YEARS just sitting in the chair of earth Toph had made for him, staring at the sky above the Western Air Temple. While Katara had attempted to reduce the swell with ice, her main instructions were resting and letting his body heal itself.

Zuko did not like resting. First, it wasn't productive. Second, the less busy he was the more his anxieties gnawed at him.

He turned his face away as the sun once again peeked merrily out of the clouds. At that moment, the celestial embodiment of his power looked like it was mocking him...

Zuko squinted in the direction he was now facing.

Ah. At least the sun couldn't approach him. Like the figure in blue clothes was currently approaching from aside, for the third time that day.

Zuko felt his face growing hotter from what the sun wasn't to blame for. Even after that fulfilling journey of avenge, he felt slightly uneasy around her. Well, enmities of the past don't fade in the blink of an eye. But the fact she had to look after him in this vulnerable position didn't make it less awkward.

“Let me see your leg”, – Katara murmured, sitting down by his side and laying her careful hands on his injury.

“One thing for sure, it still hasn't fallen off”, – Zuko scoffed.

The waterbender mirrored his frown, slowly unwrapping the bandage.

“And they call me a drama queen.” When she looked up at him the next second, her gaze seemed more tired than annoyed. “Listen, you're not a burden just because one of your feet doesn't work right now.”

Zuko clenched the armrests of his chair, as hard and reliable as the bender who had created them.

“Well too bad, I'm not a contribution either. What am I supposed to do with this other foot here?”

It reminded of the everlasting dilemma about whether the glass is half-full or half-empty. Could have reminded, if any of them was up for humor.

“This childish talk is certainly not what I've expected from the oldest member of the team”, – Katara grumbled, seemingly running thin on patience but nevertheless sneaking in a reminder of who he was right now.

Nearly identical sighs came from both of them, apparently as a replacement of mutual apologies for the irritation. Then Katara took some water our of her flask, swirling it around the hapless limb. It made Zuko clench harder. Every time she did it, he was seriously taken off guard by the sensation, and being taken off guard was another thing he did not like.

The remedy was both heavy and weightless, it was sliding gently over his skin, leaving a weirdly tingly trail behind.

The question of whether waterbending affected everyone that way or he was just weird himself added to the skyscraping pile of questions that tormented him.

“Zuko, does it really hurt that bad?”

The healer's voice was caring, but Zuko could swear there was something suspicious about it. Or maybe he was being paranoid.

He shook his head.

It was almost funny how hard he was trying to hold it in, almost cute. After how twitchy he acted during the previous healing sessions, it wasn't hard to figure out, if hard to process. Hard to believe she used to be afraid of him. Zuko, the Fire Nation prince with ticklish feet.

After wrapping his ankle up again, Katara changed her position a little, now looking down at his other limb.

“I thought about your question, Zuko.” Her hand settled down on his sole, her fingers curling up against his toes. “And I believe we do have a use for this foot right now.”

Now it was definitely suspicious. In the worst way.

Before Zuko could ask any more questions, she dug in, sending a few very heart-stopping bolts through his body. (And he had thought he could handle an actual lightning hitting him. How funny.)

He would have tried so hard to keep acting gloomy until she would step back if he'd known this was the thing on her mind. But unfortunately, the surprise tore a few chuckles out of him before he could do anything to shut them out.

Katara seemed satisfied, but unwilling to stop yet. Zuko pressed his back into the chair, desperate to wriggle away from the ticklish “examination” of his toes even though there was absolutely, completely nowhere to go.

She held his leg down firmer, fixing it in place.

“Hey, don't you remember what I said about sitting still?”

This recommendation was simply upsetting before, but so much more torturous in this context. What did he say about the worsening conditions?..

“Yohohohou cahahAHn'td-dothistome!”

Giggles, squeals, whines. It was just idiotic. Zuko gritted his teeth in an unequal battle against all of them.

Katara rolled her eyes. How dare you!..

“I'm doing what I'm supposed to. You know what they say, laughter is the best medicine.”

She wiggled her fingers up to his knee experimentally, although Zuko felt like this was more of a discovery for him than for her. He never expected himself to be that sensitive. Not now. Not after everything he's been through. He just can't...

“But I doubt it will work if you lock it all inside...”

And then her hand dashed higher and attacked his tense stomach.

Zuko was lost in shrill cackles, flushing up so hard the right side of his face probably reached the color of his burn. His body went limp, giving up on even trying to fight back. Worse, worse, so much worse...

“No!”

The prince didn't know if it was a wheeze or a moan (what's more humiliating?), but the next thing he knew, the touches slipped away with just the tingles remaining.

“Sorry, Zuko. Here, take this.”

Katara led a small portion of soothing water over his face and hair and another one to his lips. The firebender swallowed it eagerly.

“Thank you.”

He regretted opening his eyes as soon as he saw Katara's glinting with some leftover mischief.

“For what, to be specific? For the water? For the treatment? For the tickling?”

She didn't even want an answer.

Zuko was glad his hands weren't injured and he could cover his face. What wasn't so good was that he could still hear her laughing heartily at his groan and feel her ruffling his wet hair.

Her footsteps tapped softly across the floor as she left him to deal with the misery and the newfound fluster by himself.

“Remember, I'm not far. Call me if you need anything else. And I mean anything...”

#damn i'm so nervous i'm gonna die #made it neutral and open to either romantic or platonic interpretation bc im not sure what was expected of me #tickling #tickle community #sfw tickle community #my writing #ss2k23 #squealing santa #atla #lee!zuko #ticklish!zuko #ler!katara #avatar the last airbender #atla tickling

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