#I am honestly very self conscious about this one

[setaripendragon]

WIPS - I'm curious about the Cat SI. I mean, it's a reasonably self-explanatory title, but I'm interested to know what sort of direction you'd take.

Ahaha, hoooo, okay.

Buckle your seatbelt, cause this one turned into a monster on me (the thing titled 'CatSI' in my WIP folder isn't a file, it's its own folder with fifteen different files inside), and I will try to keep this short, but... ^^"

It started when I was watching some Order of the Green Hand theory videos on youtube, specifically the ones about the Ned+Ashara=Jon theory, which, while I don't think it's true in canon, I do still find it fascinating.

And then I wondered, okay, what if Catelyn didn't blame the bastard (since he's technically not one)? But since that is kind of entrenched in her whole... main motivation, and I genuinely cannot imagine a Catelyn that wouldn't (I don't... really like her. She's the main reason I stopped reading the books, tbh, so I may be being unfair to her ^^"), and the blame the bastard trope is one of my Big Nopes (hence why I don't like her, probably), and I really needed an escape from reality at that point in time...

So it originally started with a freshly transmigrated Cat having a bit of a meltdown on her wedding night (a sexist feudal hellscape wedding night as someone on the ace spectrum, to boot) all over a Ned who also very much wants to just have a meltdown, for obvious reasons. And Cat decides 'fuck it, the old gods don't look down on polygamy, I can at least make sure he gets to keep his lover and son' and tells him to damn Hoster Tully and keep them both.

It gets, you know, a lot more political than that, because everyone and their mother has an opinion about it, or wants to use it against them, etc, but that's the gist of it. Mostly it's an exercise in Make Things Better for Ned Stark with bonus OT3 as endgame.

But, well, I got a lot more invested in this AU as time went on. That need for escape during the pandemic meant I was thinking about this AU pretty much 24/7 and it grew out of control.

I eventually decided to have Cat transmigrate in at birth, and I've plotted out a Childhood Adventure for her that I've stuffed full of fun things for me to play with like a trans friend, issues with the Faith, internal Riverlands politics, her mother's death, etc etc etc, and is, you know, supposed to serve as a sort of set-up for her being properly integrated into the world by the time the Rebellion starts.

So, instead of starting at her wedding, the main story (or Book 2 of the trilogy ^^") starts at Harrenhal. The ten-day tourney in which, word of god says, so much stuff happens. The tourney is being held in honour of Cat's cousin, and the first part of the story focuses on all the ridiculous romantic nonsense that goes on there. There will, of course, be Cat pining over Ned who's pining over Ashara, as well as Lysa pining over Petyr who's pining over Cat and also Lyanna pining over Rhaegar who's ignoring his wife. Cat tries to keep Lysa and Petyr apart, and tries to get Lyanna's attention anywhere else, and actually thinks she's succeeding...

Right up until Lysa tells her she's pregnant. She talks her out of telling their father, but then her own wedding is looming, and the only way to get out of it is to let a good man get killed, and then Petyr challenges said man to a duel for her hand and Cat... says nothing. She doesn't ask Brandon to spare Petyr's life, and so he doesn't. Petyr dies, and Lysa is devastated, and Cat is guilty, and it only gets worse when Lyanna gets 'kidnapped', and Brandon goes off to King's Landing despite Cat's best efforts (were they, though?). Cat gets to stew in all this guilt for a while, and then...

Finally, the Wedding. Politics happen, Cat fights with her father about her betrothal to Ned along with Brynden 'Only Sane Tully' Blackfish, has a panic attack about her wedding night, cries all over her uncle, and asks him, in a fit of desperation to do at least One Thing Right, if, when he gets to King's Landing with the army, he'll try to save Princess Elia and the royal children. Then there's the wedding night, she introduces the idea of polygamy to Westeros (oops?), and ends up fucking pregnant because there isn't really a way to get out of it at this point.

She goes North to meet her new sister-wife Ashara, and then goes looking for Lyanna (honestly, I still haven't quite decided if I'm going with the standard Tower of Joy thing, or if I'm gonna go with the Green Hand's theory about Winterfell, but since it's another theory that I think is fun despite not thinking it's true, I'll probably go with Winterfell). Four pregnant women walk into a bar... Everyone has their babies with no one dying, because Cat actually brings a midwife or six with her, so this one almost counts as a success! Except little Targaryen-Stark baby (who we will henceforth call Geralt) has to go into hiding, and Lysa's bastard can't be known to be hers, and Cat had a girl instead of a boy! Oh, and then Princess Elia shows up with Rhaenys but not Aegon or Brynden. (Honestly, I am very seriously considering killing Brynden off here. Would make sense, him taking on the Mountain and all, but... I don't wanna...)

Baby Geralt goes with Elia north of the wall, and Arthur comes with his sister and the rest of them to King's Landing. Which is where the Politics start. Cat makes the mistake of getting involved by offering the King an excuse to kick Jaime out of the Kingsguard, and then she ends up defending Jaime's honour against Ned, which sticks an oar right in there just when the three of them were starting to build a relationship, and also attracts the attention of Tywin Lannister.

More stuff probably happens, but my notes for this part are a fucking mess, ngl -cries- Why do I like political intrigue so much? It's so hard to write! But, yeah, there needs to be some stuff with the Faith's reaction to the OT3 marriage, Oberyn finding out Elia's alive and the tangle of alliances and grudges that creates, possibly some stuff to do with the Tyrells and other loyalists, and also Cat probably getting too involved in helping Robert govern the Seven Kingdoms.

We end with a bunch of weddings; Tywin engages Jaime to Lysa as a way to drag Cat closer to their family, Robert of course marries Lyanna, which leaves Cersei with Stannis. (And Cat, of course, is still on the outs with Ned, and Ashara's caught in the middle.)

So literally no one except Robert goes home happy.

Then, I have another story planned that covers, primarily the Greyjoy Rebellion, but also the rest of the time before canon. Story starts with Cat, you know, doing everything in her power to prepare the North for the Long Night ('taters, precious), except then, whoops, she gets kidnapped by Iron Island pillagers, kills a man who's trying to rape her, commandeers a ship, survives the war by the skin of her teeth, goes to Pyke and convinces Robert to let the Iron Islands have a not-a-kingsmoot to decide the next Lord Paramount instead of leaving Greyjoy in charge.

Meanwhile, Ned thought she was dead and had a missed-opportunities style revelation that he wishes he hadn't left their relationship so strained after the whole Kingslayer thing, and they make up and talk things out, while Ashara just straight up kisses her as a welcome home. Cat detours to the Citadel on her way home to ask after that one Maester who knows magic stuff, because she's been in this racist sexist feudal hellscape for over a quarter of a century and she wants plumbing, damnit, and also gets the ball rolling on magical sunlamps (Generation-long night?! GRRM, there would be no survivors, wtf?!). Ned starts having wolf-dreams five or six years early, gets his own wolf companion, Cat maybe accidentally wakes up the Lion of Night, the Stark family ends up even bigger than in canon (nine kids instead of six, because I am a sucker for kidfic, okay), everything ends happily ever after.

Until the beginning of canon, anyway =D

(And then there's the AU where the extra Stark babies are all transmigrators as well; Obi-wan Kenobi, Tony Stark, and Frodo Baggins (or possibly Wei Wuxian, I haven't quite settled on that one 100% yes). But I don't have much more on this beyond a few funny snippets of the transmigrators recognising each other and doing a spider-man meme about it ^^")

Most of what I have written for this AU is actually a whole bunch of Canon Crossovers where, variously, Jaime Lannister, Tywin Lannister, the Six Canon Starks, Cat herself, or Ned Stark from the AU swap places with their canon counterpart and generally freak out a lot. (And the reverse, but that's less fun because Cat, of course, spots them at 200 paces and is there to explain shit.)

[blazingblorbos]

oh god. oh god. oh.. oh gosh. I didn't expect this so soon. I didn't expect this today, I've been busy with life related things so the HYV calendar is really unbeknownst to me, is this update really next week already?? where can I rant about this- whERe can I rant about this-

oh. I made a blog for that exact purpose ! OKAY—!

fuck. fuck me, dude holy-

FUCK.

the slightly worried look on Arle's face as Snezhevna is reaching out her hand, only for her face to seemingly revert back to cold and neutral once the camera actually focuses in on her. Her tone is cold but her words are reassuring,,,,,,,,

ALSO GOD FUCKING DAMN IT. HOW GENTLY SHE HOLDS HER HAND.

the d o o r. the DOOR. THE FUCKING DOOR, CHAT. the slow opening at first, and once you can make out that it's certainly Arle's silhouette she shoves it fully open - both doors, both hands. incredibly attractive—. the FEAR in that man's eyes.

The crossed hands. We can't see her face but you know what expression she's making (it's not really an expression. it's neutral but you can feel it). THE FUCKING F E A R ON THAT MAN'S FACE.

Oh- she literally just grabbed him by the throat. Just like that- ! There's the expression. Oh, you feel it, alright. If you go frame by frame, you'll notice her eyes narrow in the slightest right before ->

POV: you're getting chocked out by Arlecchino, and that's actually the least of your worries. (my god she is beautiful).

I did not expect him to simply be thrown down to the ground and I ... d i d not expect her to step on his FACE. [insert gay masochistic joke here. you know the one]. Did not expect her to smile (this is the ONLY scene wherein we see her smile even slightly... huh...) *And the reason I say "I did not expect her to smile", is because with the momentum we were getting I thought she was straight up going to crush his throat, or stab him (hand, weapon or otherwise). It looked like she was digging the forefoot of her shoe into the guys head and not the... .. y'know deadly fucking heel, so that.. confused me. (and the sound when she supposedly stomped his head in did NOT sound all that impactful) but ANYWAYS I digress-

I'm of course assuming more happened after the cut to black because . madam where did you get that bloodstain on you—

BLOODSTAIN ON HER FACE!?!?!? (more on this in a second)

Freminet??? Freminet feature ! (not Lyney or Lynette.. interesting). :(((( the poor boy sounds so,, desensitized. His father

holy shit quick intermission. After the mental chronological fuckfest that was "The Song Burning in the Embers" I don't think I can look at Arle and the HotH the same anymore because she's.. she's like not even 10 years older than them (?) it's insane this doesn't make any sense- ANYWAYS.

HIS FATHER comes back with what we later see to be real blood on her face. Tells him "I've acquired new funds". We know what that means... HE knows what that means!!, and the way WE - THE AUDIENCE - know that Freminet knows what it means is because the boy replies "Oh.. Okay.."

LIKE-! chat omg this is truly just routine for them,,,, Like out of the 3 siblings, Freminet always gave off the biggest child assassin vibe, but wow. To see that routine and desensitized nature of the HotH's line of work just,, splayed out in a Character Trailer is . wow. and the look in his eyes as he says it is- wow.

YEAH UHH BLOODSTAIN ON HER FACE??/ The lighting in this scene now is evidently less saturated. And it's just- oh my FUCKING GOD it does so many things:

the blood on Arle's face looks... dry. it doesn't look as fresh as you may expect which could mean many things. It could mean she spent,,, hella long in there with that guy doing what needed to be done. It could mean she took care of something else immediately after dealing with that guy (perhaps smth related to the children Snezhevna wanted to save). But regardless, it means she didn't put in the effort to clean her face and hide what happened. OBVIOUSLY !!! that is so . obviously her style but to S E E IT IN MY GENSHIN IMPACT CHARACTER TRAILER it's- oh my god

it serves to highlight the really, truly, bleak nature of the scene now that we know plain and simple Arlecchino just killed a man. There's no subtext, there's no reading between the lines. The only thing that didn't happen is that we didn't see contact nor see a body. But, no sugarcoating, Arlecchino killed a man. No one is hiding it. You are not surprised. No one should be but damn.

and ofc it acts as a representation of Snezhevna dying...

because it seems like the saturation is back once the camera switches to looking at Snezhevna laying in bed.

And is it me, or does it look like Arle's allowing herself to actually display a tinge of worry in her expression this time? And also, EVER so slightly in her tone as well. You can feel it, it's gentler.

"Once I'm better I'll start my next mission.."

THIS. THIS!! IN SO MANY WAYS THIS!

OKAY. so bear with me. I haven't actually read any of the sibling's character stories yet, so there could be a LOT of info I'm missing but:

There's still a pretty thought-provoking conversation going on (in MY mind, at least) about just how intensely these children are being trained to be soldiers for the Fatui. They're obviously in an environment that indoctrinates them into being soldiers of SOME kind, but I still don't know what kind of soldier that's supposed to be. Are they all ALWAYS extensions of the Fatui? Or are they more-so extensions of Arlecchino specifically..? Snezhevna was obviously trying to help those children she came across, and I'm assuming that happened on her latest mission, so was the mission for a charitable cause?? What was her next mission supposed to be?? Same line of work? Saving people? Or would it switch up and was she going to be sent to "take care of" (kill .) someone???

So I don't know whether to interpret that line as a hint of them being overworked and 1) feeling like they need to continue their work out of pure fear that they'll be deemed ineffective and useless... or 2) feeling like they need to continue their work out of a sense of loyalty and duty to the place that took them in and raised them. Or both..

and ofc the funeral scene. I can't say much more than what's already shown right on the screen.

and am I bugging? Or is the location of the grave....

[mntcoronet]

OH YEA just so y'all know if u notice I'm not very active I've just been really tired recently. including with regards to people-energy so if u message me and I take ages to respond I Do apologise! I have just been going through it this week for some reason. do not know why and do not know when it will end. but please know I am not avoiding anyone out of annoyance, if it makes u feel better I have had trouble even convincing myself to have anything more complex than just chips and a banana for lunch sometimes, so please rest assured I am not ignoring any of u just for the sake of it

[pigcowboys]

secret santa !

pairing: percy jackson x female!reader

summary: camp half-blood decides to do secret santa this year.

warning(s): pre-established relationship and kissing but, none, mostly!

a/n: merry (late) christmas to everyone who celebrates it!! this was supposed to be out on christmas day but.. uh yeah. this is slightly self-indulgent.

“you’re doing it right?” you asked, adjusting your position on your bunk bed as you tried your best to scrub out the nasty maroon stain you’d spilled onto the fabric.

it was almost christmas day and with that important birthday coming up, it meant only one thing for you, gift shopping. not that you hated it — honestly. it was just the idea of somehow disappointing your friends.

the stakes were higher this year considering the fact chiron had brought up the idea of doing a secret santa with the rest of the camp. everyone voted in agreement the idea — well, except for clovis but, to be fair he wasn’t conscious when the announcement was made.

soon after it was set in stone that the camp would be hosting its very first secret santa and then following that, everyone was assigned a partner.

piper got annabeth, annabeth got leo, leo got piper and somehow travis stoll had gotten clarisse. that last part was going to be interesting. you even got someone as well, too. not that it made you anxious at all, you loved gifting people presents — great at it, dare you say.

well, it was a bit easier to gift people presents when you didn’t have to worry about whether or not your gift would somehow make the person hate you and question why they even started dating you in the first place.

so, it was safe to say you weren’t especially overjoyed when you got percy as your secret santa. your mind went blank as you shifted to the side, allowing percy to slide past you to reach for his paper with his santa.

you eyed him curiously as he stared at the words on the paper indifferently before a smile flashed onto his face. he turned the paper so your eyes had access to it clearly, completely missing the moment when your heart dropped.

"we got each other," percy said, tucking the paper into his pocket. "that's lucky, right?" you merely laughed nervously in response.

"yeah, totally." not lucky, not lucky at all.

“everyone is,” annabeth started “why? are you changing your mind?” annabeth asked, causing you to frown slightly.

“well, no..i think.” you trailed off, eyebrows furrowing as you flung your sponge to the side. gods, you seriously hoped this would wash out after a while.

“i wouldn’t wanna spoil the fun.”

“plus, you’re curious about what your secret santa might’ve gotten you.” annabeth chimed in.

“that too.” you replied. "any idea what percy might have in mind?"

annabeth merely hummed in response leaving you even more conflicted than before. what if he gets you an amazing gift and all you get him is some crap that he'll say he loves, a fake smile on his face before dumping it somewhere in his cabin 'till the next secret santa.

you didn't want to be that girlfriend. you actively rebuke any allegations that may have even brought that idea up.

“i am so screwed.” you sobbed out, pressing your fingers against your face as you sighed dramatically.

“you have time, use it.” annabeth reminded you. she was right, it was only 2 days till christmas day and even then, secret santa wasn’t going to happen till later into the evening.

“just don’t use too much, shopping places are never open for late minute gifts.”

“right, okay..” you murmured out. "i have time."

those 2 days came and went sooner than you expected it to and by christmas day morning, you were frantically wrapping up percy’s gift, thoughts racing as you tried to not think about whether or not the gift would be cool enough for him.

he’s be happy with anything you got him, you knew that. didn’t make ease your mind any less, though. you stumbled out of your cabin as you rushed towards the decorated tree that was out near the forest, courtesy of the demeter kids.

to be honest, even if you liked christmas or disliked it, everyone could appreciate the effort put into decorating the tree. especially with all the presents stacked under - it added to the scene. you bent down, carefully placing it underneath the tree, not too close so that it would obviously stick out, but not too far that people would forget it was there.

this was a big camp, after all.

you'd made your way over the mess hall, scanning over it for any signs of percy before taking a plate and shoving food onto it. you spared a part for your godly parent and then made your way toward the table to sit with everyone else.

even with percy missing, the mess hall was still lively - believe it or not. everyone seemed to be talking lively about their gifts and what they were expecting, something that didn't ease your anxieties about your own gift.

it didn't help at all when your eyes finally settled on percy's own across the room, a small smile pulling on his face as he tended to his plate. your mind had been so zeroed in on worrying you hadn't even clued in on the fact he was walking over to you, taking a seat beside you.

"thanks for saving me a seat." you fought back a smile at the sound of his tired voice. he must've been knocked out sometime after sword practice. you hummed in response, fiddling with your food as your mind raced.

your eyes drifted towards percy as you watched him silently from the corner of your eyes. between the bed hair and the disheveled state of his clothes, it was safe to say that he had just woken up. despite the anxieties that swirled in your mind and the ansty fidgeting of your legs, you couldn't deny that percy was gorgeous.

though, it just brought your mind back to your dilemma. secret santa would happen right after dinner and then would be campfire time. how could you sit and sing songs at the campfire knowing percy had hated your gift?

"you're being stranger than usual, y'know."

"hm?" you turned to look at percy who gave you a quizzical look. "i'm acting completely normal."

"you've barely touched your food."

you stared down at your plate, it looked like a ghost had gently floated over it - devoid of human ingestion.

"i'm not hungry." you lied, slapping yourself mentally when your stomach growled deeply.

"mhm.." percy nodded along, trying to suppress the smile on his face. "what's wrong?" he asked, pushing his plate aside as he turned his whole body to face you, something that didn't go unnoticed by you as you locked eyes with him.

"just..thinking."

"about?"

you narrowed your eyes at him, ignoring the tingling in your chest as you watched him carefully. you really hoped he hadn't caught onto the fact you were just checking him out at this point, turning your face away in embarrassment as you rested your head on your elbows,

"stuff."

"what kind of stuff?"

"important stuff."

"like what?"

"percy, will you leave me alone!" a laugh, followed by his hand brushing against your back soothingly. you titled your head up to look at him as your head rested on your elbows.

"sorry, sorry." he smiled. "just hang in there, okay?" was all he whispered in your ear before moving back to press a sloppy kiss to your head that made your face scrunch in disgust.

"gross...you're so disgusting, percy.." you murmur, wiping the wet blotch of spit that was left on your forehead from the kiss.

"i love you too."

"what'd you think you got?" piper asked, shifting in her seat slightly as she waited for annabeth to respond.

"you're asking me like you don't know what i got." annabeth replied with a small smile.

"can't hurt to imagine."

you zoned out the rest of the conversation as you suppressed the urge to scream out of frustration. the camp chatted lively around you, cueing you in on the fact that you'd been cuddled up beside percy without once offering a word to him.

not that he minded, he was aware you wanted to be with your thoughts and he respected it. just..didn't feel very..couple appropriate. it felt like you'd been talking to yourself way more than the guy who was supposed to be your boyfriend.

"quiet down," chiron's voice rang through all the chatter, reducing the crowd to silence. he'd somehow managed to shimmy matching ugly christmas sweaters onto him and mr. d respectively. the image alone made you want to pull out your phone and snap a picture.

though, you decided against it, taking notice of the death glares mr.d had sent your way.

chiron announced that secret santa would be happening in a bit, receiving a series of cheers from some campers in the crowd. you shifted slightly in percy's hold, prompting him to look at you - a curious look on his face.

"you okay?"

"yeah, it's just kind of cold, i guess."

percy hummed in response before pulling you into him so you were resting against his chest. he rested his chin on your head with a small smile.

“is this better?” he whispered, to which you merely hummed in response, snuggling yourself against him as you tried to get comfortable. now, you weren’t a fan of those overly lovely couples that couldn’t keep their hands off each other in public but, you had to admit that being in percy’s arms felt more than good with the day you’ve had.

chiron continued on with his announcements, listing out the series of activities tomorrow and also stating as well that the stables would be closed on account of an “accident” that had happened in there. that part was received with a small shiver.

“that’s all i’d like to say, furthermore, I’d like to wish everyone a merry christmas.” then, chiron and mr.d stepped to the side as the festivities continued on.

it was time.

“wonder what everyone got.” you murmured, watching quietly as the rest of the campers hurried towards the tree decked out with over the top presents. percy stood up, offering you his hand as he locked them.

“me too.” percy agreed, sighing slightly. “gods, all i hope is that someone doesn’t make the mistake of gifting travis firecrackers ever again.”

“or a megaphone.”

“oh, yeah, i totally remember that year.”

“I’m sure everyone else does too..”

percy cracked a grin, one that cause your stomach to flutter slightly as you smiled back at him. he squeezed your hand before making short strides towards the rest of the campers.

you should’ve been anxious — you were anxious. though, your concerns seemed to slip away the longer you stayed with percy. the way he looked at you, it made you realize just one thing that you were sure a crummy present wasn’t going to change.

he loved you.

camp activities were fun and all but, extremely loud.

you’d figured it’d only been amplified by the fact that everyone was opening their christmas gifts and comparing what they’d gotten from each of their respective partners.

you could respect that, secret santa was no joke.

yet, you’d still managed to slip away with percy while none of the adults were watching in favorite of opening your gifts in the company of one another rather than the rest of the camp. and judging by the sputters of stars in the night sky illuminating percy and your faces, it was a good call.

“you think they’ll be mad at us for ditching everyone else?” you asked, clutching your present to your chest as you adjusted your winter coat.

“we’ll be back before they know it,” percy replied, turning to face you with a smile. he was always smiling. “and anyways, everyone else would be too busy with their presents to care.”

you sighed, taking a seat next to percy as you rested his gift in-front of you. percy turned to look at you with an anxious look on his face as he cleared his throat, holing his hand out as he waited for you to take the gift from him.

you looked back at him, nerves set ablaze as well as you exchanged your gifts, resting the wrapped present in your lap as you ogled the festive paper.

“so, truth be told — i’m pretty nervous.” percy blurred out of the blue.

“gods, i’m so glad you said that cause, i so was too.” you sighed softly, your heartbeat stilling for the first time this night as you shifted your body so you were turned towards percy. “i really wanted my gift to special and.. i feel like if it isn’t you’d like hate me or something.”

“i could never hate you.”

you paused for a moment. it’d only be a few years since you’d started to date percy, you should’ve been more used to his personality. yet, it never seemed to catch you off guard when he said these kind of sentimental things.

“even if i got you like..a smelly sock for christmas?”

percy laughed before shaking his head. you bite the inside of your mouth, frowning slightly as your face grew hot.

“sorry, i’ve been so quiet tonight.” you averted percy’s gaze, picking at the clear taping of your present. “it’s just — I don’t know, i guess i was lost in my own head.”

percy watched you quietly, leaning forward to cup your cheek as he planted a soft kiss to your lips, pulling back to stare you head on in your eyes.

“don’t apologize for something like that, it’s fine — really.” percy replied, his voice soft and careful. it made your body feel warm.

“if you want, you could open my gift first,” he added, moving his hand to rest atop yours. “that way you won’t be so nervous.”

you smiled, a genuine one. “that or your gift will be so amazing that it makes mine look horrible.” percy grinned back at you.

“let’s see.”

you nodded, turning to stare down the gift in your lap before you started to unravel it. it wasn’t a particularly big present, not that you minded at all. anything from percy was something to treasure. you moved the packaging to the side carefully as you stared at the small box that hit behind it.

it wasn’t cardboard, more like.. leather? or silk. and it was blue — percy’s trademark. you looked to him with a curious look on your face before turning back to gaze at the small box. you let your finger glide over the material once more before you opened it.

“percy..?” you mumbled out, voice barely a whisper.

inside the box contained a small ring that looked to be just about the size of your ring finger. your heart dropped at the sight of it — in a good way. it was pretty, careful patterns etched into that showed that it was finely crafted. and at the center of it, a small gem that was the same shade of your favorite color.

the cherry on top.

your eyes started to water involuntarily as your lips trembled. you were at a loss for words, how could you say anything? you stared at percy in shock as you tried to grasp the right words to say, eventually coming up with the idea to not say any words at all, leaning forward as you pulled him into a tight hug.

percy hugged back immediately, burying his head into your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you gently.

you pulled back to look at him, tears pooling down your face as he wiped them away with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your tear stained cheeks.

“you’re..you’re totally insane for being nervous.” you managed out, laughing slightly as you choked back a sob. “how did you get the money to pay for this?”

“i saved up!” he replied brightly, a proud smile flashing on his face. your shoulders trembled as a warm laugh broke through your lips, causing percy to flush slightly in your hold.

“thank you so much percy.” you whispered, moving your hand to rest on his cheek as you spoke. “you really didn’t have to get me something like this.”

“it’s all fine.” he replied calmly. “it’s you were talking about, y’know.” your face burned with embarrassment as you smiled uncontrollably, pulling percy in for a deeper kiss.

you pulled away from him, watching quietly as percy took the small blue box you’d placed on the floor beside you and opening it. he held the promise ring in his hand, gently taking your own as he slid the ring on carefully. you watched him quietly before press another kiss to his face.

then another, and another.

and before you knew it, you were peppering kisses all over his face, taking the small giggles he emitted from his lips as a sign to do even more than before. percy managed your name out though his giggles, fingers digging into your winter coat as he tried to pry you off of him.

“the — gift!” he giggled, shutting his eyes tightly as you pressed another kiss to the bridge of his nose. “what about — your gift?”

“another time.” was all you whispered as you slid the gift away, focusing in on making sure you’d filled every single spot off percy’s with the feeling of your lips.

safe to say percy hadn’t gotten to see what you’d gotten him till a little later into the night.

[babypinkhearts]

like the sun.

pairing: gojo satoru + reader

summary: satoru’s presence reminds you of the sun. like helios, the sun god, you attributed.

warnings: kind of enemies to lovers? reader is a year older than gojo, angst (my fav :3), little cameo from geto. gojo is (secretly) so down bad, mention of violence, blood, and anything of those sorts. also set before geto’s defection.

word count: 7.2k

a/n: i am back from my writing slump! i was (very) burnt out from my last fic, but i think my spark is back :) i’ve mentioned this kind of plot once or twice before, so i NEEDEDDD to write it out to satisfy my head <333 hope you lovelies enjoy!

i. blaze.

there’s a peculiar thing about heat.

summer sun is nearly unbearable, and yet you’re tempted to stay under it’s scorching glare longer. an enigma, because, in all honestly, your body felt like it could give out in any moment. the white cotton shirt was rather suffocating. it’s too close to skin, battling the weather for a more overwhelming presence. unnatural and stiff, arms raise, and it’s only with the most futile attempt that you stretch out sore limbs while simultaneously trying to catch your breath.

slight relief is given with small gusts of refreshing wind. limited by it’s lack of strength, but it does it’s purpose in cooling you off. morning training was preferable. it was less brutal — and more importantly, it saved you the trouble of having to spar with an immortal. he never woke up early enough.

an immortal, jokingly, because you’ve never been able to land a meaningful hit on him.

“where’d you get that?”

your arms pause, stilling from their position above your head. he’d granted you a small break. ‘generously,’ as he had put it. after two hours of exerting yourself, you’d grown to become indifferent to the absence of fatigue on his face.

a finger is pointed towards your side, eyes blue and curious, gaze almost as blunt as his tone. the slightest exposure of skin is shown, shirt lifted from your previous movements, and his eyes remained fixed upon you. expression unreadable, a smile oddly lacking. it makes you a little self-conscious, and you reach to pull the fabric back down.

“scar.” you dryly answer, resorting to turning away, contorting your back to hear a small ‘crack!’

blue still penetrates you. it watches, carefully.

“looked pretty big.”

you bite your cheek, sparing him a side glance.

“it’s old.”

he doesn’t miss a beat. he never really does.

“how old?”

a small huff escapes your dehydrated lips, and your brows furrow.

“got it last year.”

before you knew him, to be clearer. you’d elaborate, make it known, but your chest stings of exhaustion, and the sun is, again, too hot.

truthfully, your response fails to provide satoru with satisfaction, and you can tell that he’s got a few more questions (or a million) to ask. but he keeps his mouth shut, and nods in simple understanding. you only watch as he straightens his posture, and a smile — notably, grazing his lips with some strange hesitation — shows up once more.

“break’s over.”

•••

you’re introduced to gojo satoru during your second year at jujustu high. it was like a chunk of the literal sun (something you’d reiterated was so distasteful and unpleasant to be under, yet strangely captivating) had been taken and left on earth, blazing with desire, and legitimately brighter than everything else around it. like helios, you attributed. a sun god.

an anomaly in your vision, only a few doors down from you.

he was unbearable.

if arrogance could conjure itself into a person — if all the annoyance in the world could simultaneously join at once — it’d create him. the product of too many bad things.

and of course, you’d expected his arrival. it felt like the only subject of your entire first year — the legend, the “honored” one. for him to attend your school grounds the following semester, and to truly give the universe a glimpse into his true power.

because what was he really capable of?

“again, too slow.”

you’d come to accept an unfortunate feat of failure.

swept off your feet by nothing but air (and a forceful kick), gravity pulls you back down, and you hiss as your back hits the floor. your head almost collides with it, but a nudge to your side reminds you to keep it lifted. in retrospect, it’s thoughtful, but you nearly glare.

you can feel where you’ll be sore tomorrow. it stings just a little too much for comfort, and your teeth clamp down on your bottom lip to suppress the ache.

a body so regularly bruised, you’re surprised the injuries themselves haven’t come to life and begged you to stop moving.

satoru stands above you, a white collared long-sleeve accentuating his pale features. linen, almost. it’s a bit see-through, and it shines nicely through the rays behind him. his darkly tinted glasses rest upon his face. they sit a little below his nose.

blue peeks out.

“god, yaga wasn’t kidding.”

he sounds almost bored. with the privilege of being so careless, so relaxed and expectant, he raises a brow at your silence and nudges you once more.

it’s quietly humiliating. a cycle that continues, until you’ve had enough and choose to end the embarrassment. satoru’s pliant, always awaiting your call. because, simply, he can do that.

slowly, you blink, looking up to meet his partially covered eyes.

they used to scare you. not from intimidation or general nerves, but because they were vibrant. deeper than ocean’s water, a shade unlike anything humane. it puts a greater boarder in between the two of you. a stronger picket fence.

you know that if you ask, you won’t like the answer. but the pitying, mocking smile satoru has is getting under your skin, so you breathe a small, “what?”

satoru’s smug.

you watch as he whistles and looks off to the side, temporarily ignoring you.

and then, he shrugs nonchalantly.

“nothing.”

your eyes narrow. you can feel your annoyance bubbling, and it threatens to tip over, but you shake your head in retaliation.

“okay.”

it’s a trap, you know it’s a trap, because satoru’s head perks up, and he looks at you questionably.

“you don’t want to know?”

your eyes roll, so severely you momentarily feel a little twinge of pain.

“no, i’m good.”

and you ignore his out-reached hand, getting off the floor by yourself.

you’re tired.

it’s well past noon. another afternoon of seemingly pointless training because suguru and shoko had been out on a mission, leaving you alone once more with the embodiment of your nightmares.

you were tempted to complain to yaga, but knowing his twisted ways of teaching, it’d probably only land you more time with him.

unfair.

“not even a little curious?”

ignoring him was difficult. you’ve become too accustomed with sarcasm, and it’s sickly rewarding to see his face fall to pieces, because he’s everything and perfect. infuriatingly so.

“no, leave me alone.” your voice holds some annoyance now, and you’re still hearing his footsteps behind yours as you make your way inside the dormitories.

it’s like clockwork. so expected, you can’t find it in you to tell satoru to actually leave.

he’s never listened to you anyways.

upon reaching your door, you slowly let yourself in, and are unable to act surprised when you fail to hear it shut behind you. you can already picture the sight of his foot nudged in between the crack. you pay no mind, placing your weapon against the wall, and are forced to take a seat at your desk because of the unwelcomed guest who, suddenly, lays on your bed. like usual. peering up at you, a boyish smile illuminating such delicate features.

“what’s on today’s agenda?”

he speaks like that pretty often.

insinuating a we, us, our — as if the two of you are halves that make a whole, and are practically inseparable despite your clear discomfort. unwillingness, too.

“i,” you emphasize, glancing at him. “am going out.”

he’s pouting, you know before you even look at him again.

“where?”

you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, sighing softly. he’s like a baby duckling.

“i have a meeting with yaga, but he’s stuck at kyoto right now. i’m seeing him there.”

you watch as satoru’s head pokes up. for a sliver of time, he looks a little unsure, which is unlike his normal self, who speaks absentmindedly. and for that solid reason, you get the slightest ounce of concern. but you mask it, because heaven and earth both know the burden of his awareness.

“can’t be super important.”

your brow raises, and you scoff softly.

“not sure yet.”

silence seems to bother satoru, you’ve learned. he enjoys speaking, generally taking up time that isn’t righteously his. it’s a habit, one clearly too strong to break. entitlement.

but he speaks because he loves the interaction.

(specifically, he loves talking to you.)

and satoru isn’t stupid — he’s far from it. he’s able to read you well enough to know that he’s slightly wounded you. not too far from offense, though he’s able to see how fidgety you get as a result. he needs to learn how to shut up.

“i noticed you were slower today.”

spoken plainly. and you’re not looking at him when he says it, unable to spot the way he swallows thickly afterwards.

words spew out. there’s not much to talk about, you reason. you repeat that a million times in your head, only opening your mouth to respond when you’re sure it won’t be mean. too rash, and you’re positive the conversation would go a different way.

you shrug, looking at the floor.

“i was tired.”

it feels like the wrong to say. and satoru quickly proves your gut right.

“you’re always tired.”

his bluntness is weirdly shocking, which is the only reason why a small laugh escapes your lips. for a moment, you’re not sure how else to respond — what a sensible response would sound like. but you’re used to his antics, and it’s only a further reminder to keep your composure.

“well, you’re not exactly easy competition.”

you’re speaking lightheartedly, a bit of humor hidden in your voice. and though you feel rather pitiful to be using his abilities as an excuse, you tell yourself it’s a genuine reason.

but satoru is aware. he’s more than aware. he breathes the fact like air itself, because it’s been shoved down his throat since before he’s been able to even understand it.

he’s aware.

“but you’re not trying, either.”

at that, your body stills.

satoru isn’t smiling with you. and he’s not teasing, you finally realize. he’s being serious. but satoru has never been mean. he’s conceited, yes, but mean? you wouldn’t count his teasing as it, and he’s never gone farther than repetitive little jokes.

“what?” and you suppose you’re dumbfounded from disbelief, because your throat feels a little dry, and the forced smile on your face falls slightly. it twinges, unsure of how to read the situation.

“you’re not trying, i said.”

“no, no, i heard you.” you wave a hand, words quiet as you cough awkwardly. “i just… wasn’t expecting that.”

you feel a little dramatic. the tips of your ears burn, and embarrassment lingers across your skin. the floor is suddenly the most interesting thing in the room, and you wonder if he’s aware of the heightened effect those words sound coming from him. you’re uncomfortable.

“someone had to tell you eventually.” and this time satoru is the one who shrugs, peacefully laying back against your pillows as if he’d done something dutiful — like he was worthy of some sort of praise. “it’s noticeable.”

he’s never managed to leave you at a loss words. you’re normally quick with rebuttals, regularly despising the thought of him thinking he’s escaped bickering with you as a victor.

so your silence feels daunting, and you’re both equally as aware of it’s significance.

satoru jumps over your picket fence sometimes. as if breaking a fourth wall into your mind, and latching on to something more sour and unkept. he brings out emotions that are more real, and his honesty bruises your insides until they feel as sore as your own physical body. it’s daunting, and another testament of his uniqueness.

“thanks.” you finally mutter, awkwardly looking to the side to avoid his overall perception. “i’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

satoru is like a brick wall. or, realistically, just some form of indestructible material. that fact alone should push you towards improvement. it should be a motivator. but when you train alongside him (albeit, rarely), you’re reminded of your naiveness from a mere year ago.

expectations should be kept low at all costs. it makes disappointment easier. jujustu brought upon the worst scenarios, and you’ve slowly learned to not grow attachments, or be too positive. because that’s what truly kills.

but, satoru. meeting satoru was like a fresh breath of air. everything about him was true, and even then he superseded his initial description. he’s more careless with his desires, nonchalant about limits. indulging in advice wasn’t him. he simply didn’t do it, taking his own word against others.

the dorm bed creaks, and you watch as he leisurely stands up, casual and quiet.

“well, just so you know,” his fingers tap against the door frame, and he lets himself back in, just by a tiny bit.

he pauses. hesitant again.

but this time, his voice comes out a bit louder. confidence declared. and you’re unaware that the tone is somewhat forced.

“yaga said you’re pretty weak. told me and suguru to go easy on you while sparing.”

the door shuts behind him.

•••

ii. taunt.

during the first week of your third year, a mission is assigned to you by jujustu tech.

well — not assigned, per say, but dutifully given.

by your compliance, and your raised hand in yaga’s office.

“i’ll take it.”

it’s immediate, and you ignore the stares from around the room. you don’t falter, looking to yaga expectantly. he’s a stern man. difficult to read, but easy to understand. he acts with logic, and is genuinely a respectable teacher at heart.

and yet you figure that he’s some form of evil, because he looks up from his paperwork, and replies with, “satoru will accompany you.”

as if he didn’t need to think twice, and the sound of your voice was enough to cement the decision.

your eyes narrow distastefully, though you don’t verbalize your exasperation. the subject of the matter is beside you, and you can feel that he’s watching your expression, but when yaga hands you both individual papers, any words he’s tempted to say die down. you’re sure you’ve made your feelings clear.

it’s another ten minutes of boring, long reminders before all of you are excused, and you’re sure your feet have never been quicker as you attempt to escape the mere vicinity of the room. your shoes click against the floor, and you feel others right behind you. irritatingly familiar.

“woah, woah, woah, slow down!”

an arm throws itself over your shoulders, and it’s difficult to not buckle under the sudden weight, a groan leaving you as you push back slightly.

the past year had only provided him with more confidence, and a stronger need to bother you at all times.

“first mission together!” satoru grins, waving his paper in your face gleefully. the excitement is obviously one-sided, but that seems to only fuel his amusement more.

your eyes shut tightly, and you sigh.

“a…” satoru ignores you, eyes scanning his paper, humming softly before a dramatic gasp leaves his lips. he leans into you a bit more. “grade one! that should be fun.”

and suddenly, his addition makes sense.

in jujustu ranking, you were still considered a grade two sorcerer. satoru soars higher, like he always has, and had surpassed you mere weeks after his initial arrival. expected, but still a little irrationally irritating.

“just leave it to me.” he waves his free hand that’s still over your shoulder. “i’m probably better fit to fight against it anyway.”

you wonder how much trouble you’d get into if you hit him in the face. you’ve thought about it more times than you could count. in present, it’s a near losing battle, and you only relent because he lets go of you at just the right moment.

realistically, it’d be nice of satoru to be more considerate. you disliked the passive aggressive comments, and can’t seem to understand why he’s always made them when you’ve never said or done anything to earn the taunting quips.

it’s his humor, you’ve heard, though it never feels as degrading when it’s directed at someone else.

you’ve tried your hardest to tolerate satoru over the past year, after realizing it was futile to be completely friendly. but you suppose he holds up his own barrier at times. you’re only given the leisure of peeking over, never getting the will to jump across. that’s another skill only he has mastered.

“meet here at nine tomorrow.” he smiles, carefree as he stops in front of you, halting your path. he pays no mind to your raised brow and crossed arms, adjusting his glasses so they sit higher on his face. “then we can leave, and hopefully we’ll be back pretty early.”

confused and still irritated, you shake your head in confusion.

“wouldn’t we be back early if we just… left earlier?”

satoru’s face sours, and a clear glimpse of his adolescent mind shows through when he shakes his head.

“nah.”

you don’t have the energy to argue over how idiotic he sounds, so you nod in agreement, and rub your temples deeply. it would be a long day, you’re sure, but nothing new his antics haven’t already trained you for.

“noon, then.” you mutter, taking one last look at him.

the air feels a little tense.

you nearly bite your tongue, debating on letting some additional comments fly out. but watching his demeanor (the pure nonchalance) frustrates you, and your eyes narrow.

“you know, i could probably take it on too. by myself.”

satoru stills.

it had been bubbling in your head since you’d left yaga’s office. clearly, as satoru notices the lack of regret on your face. it’s spoken like fact.

if it had been utahime beside him, saying those exact words, he thinks he might’ve laughed.

but in your case, it just feels different.

“well,” he pauses, and you know that you’ve truly caught him off-guard. his eyes trail over your face, and he almost expects you to cower a bit. it never comes. he’s shaking his head, shaking his thoughts, and his eyes find your again, voice softer. “it’s a two-person mission. so, tough luck.”

his smile returns. as if uninterrupted, and ’normal.’

satoru has a habit of suppressing his thoughts.

your eyes roll, ignorant to his inner conflict, and you ask — when will he take you seriously?

privileged in every aspect, and not one ounce humble. but really, he could do whatever he pleases. the world can’t stop him.

satoru shines brightly at you, blinding nearly. helios must be jealous.

•••

“he’s a lot to handle.”

it smells like smoke. bothersome to your worsening headache, but the open window is the only thing keeping your senses at bay.

shoko’s a bad influence, you’ve learned. ashes are regularly spotted on school grounds, the culprit being nearly the same every time. but she’d roped another into her habits, so pinning the blame was harder to do.

your eyes follow the cigarette in suguru’s hand as he exhales once more.

“you think?” it comes off as more bitter than sarcastic, and you’re annoyingly aware of the small smile that appears on his face. gray clouds around him momentarily, sculpting sharper eyes as they narrow in amusement.

“what did he tell you?”

you blink, tilting your head in confusion, silently asking for some clarification. suguru’s eyebrows raise, and he snickers.

“he said something to piss you off. what was it?”

you weren’t sure what the impression would be when you knocked on his door an hour ago. you weren’t even sure why you did it.

maybe it was because suguru was easy to talk to. a good listener, most definitely. and though he’s assumably been a cog in your self-depreciation, you can’t bring yourself to be upset at him too.

“um,” you pause. it weirdly bothers you that he’s right. that he’s able to read exactly what’s wrong, because either he knows you or satoru too well, or it’s both.

suguru stares, patiently. and there is no implication on his face that reads a, ‘knew it.’ he just simply awaits your words.

he’s a gentle soul, coaxing out fragile insides.

“well,” you breathe, rubbing your hands over your knees. it was aggravating, the small sense of discomfort you felt while reliving words that really shouldn’t matter as much as they do. it briefly holds your tongue, and you feel silly for making it this big of a deal in your head. suguru isn’t judgemental though, and you know that. it’s the only reason why telling him doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

“he basically said that yaga thinks i’m… weak.”

the silence that takes over the room is a little daunting, and throws away all confidence you had with suguru out the smoke-ridden window.

you wait for a laugh, a grimace — anything. but nothing every really comes. it’s only a huff of acknowledgement.

“ah.”

no surprise, no disdainful reaction. his smile stays intact.

you’d argue that suguru carried more wisdom than you’d ever be able to acquire. beyond his own years, it seemed. it was something about his aura, or just the way he carried himself. strangely, inhumanly graceful.

he looks to you, and there’s a glint in his eye that tells you something is aloof.

“what?” you impatiently ask, brows furrowing. his lack of response had begun to bother you, nerves etching across your bones.

another long puff causes you to turn your face away from him entirely, and you wince as the smell of smoke momentarily intensifies. it escapes out the window (once more) with the added effort of your ushering hands. suguru watches you for a bit, laughing a little, though ultimately sighs with a soft snicker.

“yaga never said that.”

for a second, you think that the lack of clean air has tainted your brain, and that you’ve misheard him.

the information settles in the air for a while. lingering, up until you’ve found a proper way to deal with it.

“seriously?”

the look on your face makes suguru want to laugh again, but he merely nods, sitting a bit straighter in his chair.

“yup.”

you have questions — a majority you know that suguru can’t really answer, so you minimize them into the broadest form, sighing softly, a little defeatedly.

“why would he say that, then?”

suguru hums, lifting a finger to his chin as he shrugs. “he might’ve thought it would push you more.”

your eyes narrow, and you click your tongue in annoyance. “that’s stupid.”

your cheeks warm a little as you register suguru leaning in, a sly smile on his face, his eyes shining with a bit of mischief.

“well, it bothered you, didn’t it?”

now, that felt kinda humiliating to admit. and you’re sure your face gives your thoughts away, so you nod, an easy admission.

“yeah.” you breathe, sighing. “it did.”

what you want to say, is that it bothered you that satoru said it.

his opinion, frustratingly, was something you heavily valued. no matter how many times he’s belittled you, or been generally arrogant. you stupidly seek his sunlight, his approval, and wish to always be under his rays.

“okay.” he raises his brows, staring. “then show him on your mission tomorrow. don’t let him interfere, and kick some ass by yourself.”

your eyes widen, barely, but suguru notices, and purses his lips. in comparison to each other, you’ve always found suguru to be the more sensible one. he prioritized rules, only really breaking them if satoru begged him to.

“you have more experience now.” and he’s unable to hide his wandering eyes as they find the hem of your shirt, as if perfectly picturing the damaged skin underneath. you’d opened up about the scar a few months ago, the first year’s backing you into a corner. satoru had been the most adamant to know. “it’ll be different.”

you don’t give much of an answer, a simple nod conveying your inner-conflict.

suguru watches, your eyes squinting in confusion as you shake your head. you utter your next question, and he has to hide his amusement.

“why does satoru dislike me so much? what did i ever do to him?”

suguru thinks you and satoru are intelligent in your own ways.

and then, at times like these, he believes he’s never met two people so incredibly dense.

silence, and an all-knowing smile is the only answer you receive.

•••

it could be wrong. it is wrong. dangerous, deviant, and stupid.

but despite all these bad thoughts, you’re still quietly shutting the door to your dorm room. meticulously cautious, all in hopes to successfully escape a wrath imaginably worth ten thousand.

suguru didn’t mean this, you’re sure.

it’s immature, you’re aware, to head out on your own. you’re stuck imagining possible outcomes, and all the punishments that await you when you return. and yet once more, you thank the heavens, all gods that can hear, for satoru’s inability to wake up early.

campus is pretty in the early hours. the sun not yet rising, and grounds only illuminated by small scattered lamps. it’s peaceful, quiet from it’s usual bickering of your underclassmen. a moment of tranquility before the storm.

proof is what the world will get. it’s the objective of your heart’s own mission, regardless of whether or not it was a rational thing to do.

(it was most definitely not.)

to be strong is to understand weakness. and you’ll only let your emotions sway you as vulnerable. but you’re equally as aware that might just be your demise.

paper crinkles in your hands.

the report is relatively detailed. a street name is in thick black ink, and it’s hard to miss the red stamp labeling the file, ‘grade one.’

a breeze. ‘fun,’ like satoru had put it.

the mind is fragile. nerves send it in a frenzy, and you suppose affirmations are the only way that you can attempt to keep your heart from racing. it’s guilt, also.

he’s probably still asleep in bed. laid beside pillows that you know are too ridiculously soft, and having a single alarm on his phone because you’re aware that he is generally a light sleeper. but satoru needed to see you differently. a better perception — a kaleidoscope of mystery. because, unfortunately, some hint of acknowledgement from a god keeps mere mortals standing.

it takes almost an hour to finally set your eyes on the street, and when they do, you begin to second-guess your flawed plan.

from exact numbers and location, a warehouse is where you end up. battered, and clearly worn down. a perfect spot for a curse in hiding.

though if satoru was here, he would have laughed.

the cursed energy emitting from the building is unmistakable. it’s strong, and it involuntarily speeds up your already-abnormal heart rate. hiding is plain stupid if it’s energy is that obvious. but it’s also still dark out. you doubt the building even has electricity, though dawn seemed to be rather close. you could hold off until then.

you stand outside for longer than you wish. reality seems to dawn upon you at that moment, and it’s there that you realize you’re truly too stubborn to walk away. you’d go through with it, no matter what would happen now.

and as you’re walking, it feels like your body isn’t controlling itself. there’s a heightened fear striking all your senses, and you’ve completely submitted to instinct, not trusting your mess of thoughts. you pray for a little forgiveness, a little mercy, and head inside.

it’s bare.

with the exception of broken plywood and fallen beams, it’s nearly vacant.

the doors you enter through are flimsy, and whether it be your mind in a frenzy, or an attempt to postpone time for as long as possible, you quickly barricade them with the pieces of discarded wood. at the very least, it’d prevent any chances of normal civilians from entering.

every bit of cursed energy seems to draw you towards the opposite end of the building.

and there’s not much you can do when materialized arrows welcome themselves into your vision, a quick dodge being your eyes’ only savior.

“fuck.” you breathe, swallowing thickly. you’re scared shitless, anxiety hardly alleviated by the close call. a hand rummages to the sheath connected to your waist, and you close your eyes tightly, counting yourself down from initiating your first strike.

“okay, okay, okay.”

your weapon unveils itself.

•••

iii. glory in the sun’s rays.

heavy breaths are the only sound echoing across distant walls.

but besides that,

serenity.

it’s quiet.

like particles, hope sprinkles in, and the curse in front of your eyes disperses — successfully exorsized.

in that moment, you truly believe there is no better sight. nothing that can possibly grant that level of satisfaction.

your mouth tastes a little like metal. it’s bitter, and you suppress a wince, too relieved to really feel an ounce of worry.

there’s broken panels from all around. holes in the walls, gaps in the ceilings, and you wonder how you even managed to reach such high places — especially given the state that you’re in.

and despite your contentment, your body sends itself into a momentary coughing fit.

something stings — it hurts bad, but loud footsteps, running, running, running, echo on the other side of the barricaded doors, and the wooden panels wedged in between the handles are broken, timbered pieces thinly scattered across the floor.

both doors fly open.

it’s a vague sense you have. the ability to feel him.

you’ve learned it well over the past year.

satoru’s cursed energy is unique. it creeps up on you, until there’s a realization that the only thing you can feel is him. situating himself as something important, far more attention-worthy than your own being. it’s suffocating.

you meet each other’s eyes.

he seems to be breathing nearly as heavily as you are. eyes blown out, a hint of something feral in his irises. you’re stagnant, reciprocating the attention.

“told you.“ you swallow thickly, a proud, fatigued smile on your face as you look at him.

it’s still quiet in the building. satoru stands a few feet ahead of you.

he looks disarrayed.

“i fucking did it, you idiot.”

clothes somewhat torn, hair slightly disheveled, you stand.

something was blooming. pride? an accomplishment of the unthinkable — proving a god wrong. going against all odds. but every sense, every feeling, dwindles as you finally muster up the attention to fully take satoru in. it’s more difficult to focus.

satoru looks strange, you think. eyes wide, face visibly more pale than usual. and he’s quiet, for once in his life.

it’s unpleasant, and you feel your body recoil a bit, physically tensing.

“what—“ you breathe heavy, eyes lidded as they look up to his. everything is kind of loud, including his stare. he’s crafted in white shimmer from your vision, and it’s easy to spot the uncharacteristic worry in his eyes. “what’s up with you?”

and for the first time since you’ve known him, gojo satoru seems small. though only differentiated by a mere year, you’re able to see that small spec of time fall upon his graceful features. like admiration crumbling, and a heavy heart dying.

gods shouldn’t fear things.

it’s shock, satoru thinks. it’s why he doesn’t immediately move, and why the walls around him seem to shrink.

he’s never been in such a state. every feeling foreign, and he thinks he might be sick for a second.

his hands are shaking, and he’s focused on red. a naturalistic color that’s been too heavily branded in his life, it feels wrong to not be indifferent about it. he should be accustomed to it, for those weaker have the misfortune of having it easily taint their skin. but gojo satoru is not heartless. (though in that moment, that’s all he wishes to be.)

your shirt is ripped from the bottom.

there’s a deep, grotesque wound that covers your lower stomach. the gash follows upwards, nearly identical to the scar he’d seen upon his first few months of knowing you. satoru had later learned that it was from your first mission alongside mei mei. you’d been separated from each other for a second too long, and it’d landed you with a permanent reminder of your lost adolescence. your devotion and commitment to the jujustu world, left on your skin forever.

open, again, as satoru watches the blood flow down your side. a gory sight, and when your eyes begin to slow in their blinking, a switch seems to turn itself on in his head.

“no, no, hey-“ and he’s rushing forward, catching you a mere second before you fall. gentle, anxious hands cradle and guide, up until your body is on the floor, and those same hands are pressed excruciatingly harshly against your abdomen. “keep—shit, keep your eyes open.”

satoru thinks he feels his heart die. if life is real, surely it had just shriveled into nothingness. because as soon as he applies pressure to the gaping wound, you’re frightened, crying out and weakly attempting to push away his unrelenting arms.

“fuck, stop-“ you’re wheezing, too pain-stricken to utter any other thought. a sliver of that unruly color trickles down the side of your mouth, and satoru believes he’s never felt emotion, panic, this intense.

his brain fogs, fuzzy and disconnected as he blinks rapidly, his breath palpitating as he reaches for his phone. his hand is ruined in the color of your state, coated fingers dialing at an inhumane speed.

satoru doesn’t register shoko’s voice. he’s repeating the same thing over and over again, for help, because he’s utterly useless for you. broken in repetition, emotions being indescribably shaken.

the blood in your mouth tastes more bitter than before. to see him hysterical felt wrong. satoru had always been something stable for the world to lean on. the universal rock, who would never dwindle. the task that comes with the title, ‘the strongest’ replacing his own personal persona.

and, you think again, expectations should really be kept low at all costs.

your eyes threaten to unfocus, trembling lightly as they try to stay open. satoru’s stomach drops, and he’s immediately shaking you gently, reminding you that ‘you’ll be fine, just look at me.’

he’s far too tense to be humorous. the wit has locked itself in a cage, and he takes in the reality of being realistic.

gojo satoru cannot deny his six eyes.

it looks fatal.

but despite your state, there’s charm in your weak, scarily optimistic demeanor.

“satoru?”

his eyes snap to yours.

he’s too selfish to shut you up, body yearning to hear your voice, no matter how defeatedly tired it sounds. it’s a little hoarse, and there’s no doubt in his mind that fatigue had stolen your energy to speak any louder. but he supposes he’d hear you even if he was buried underground.

you’re looking up to him like nothing is amiss. innocence sparkles the tiniest bit in your hazed vision.

there’s a tiny ghost of a smile that lingers on your stained lips. a wince plagues your expression shortly after, a curse and stuttered breath leaving you as satoru’s hands abruptly shift.

“ow—ow. be g-gentler since i’m fucking dying, satoru.”

satoru wants to hit you over the head, your labored breaths squeezing his very soul. he’s visibly tempted, and it’s only with the sight of extra glimmer in his eyes that your face falls slightly.

you want him to make a joke. you crave it. any form of banter, you silently plead.

but unbeknownst to you, satoru feels almost angry. how are you this calm? have you accepted something that he doesn’t want to verbalize? what could possibly be amusing about this?

“shut up. shut up, please.”

weak, and fragile, his voice nearly breaks. you watch him for a bit, eyes curious as they study. and though your vision is blurry, and you can feel yourself getting progressively lightheaded, you tap him gently.

you’re at fault. you’re conscious enough to remember that.

“‘s gonna be okay.” the words come out a little slurred, but still understandable. you attempt another insistent smile, a hand raising to wrap around the wrist plastered against you. “not dying, was just kidding.”

satoru isn’t used to being watched so intently. your gaze is intimidating despite your lowered eyelids, and you silently map out every curve and inch of his complexion. (just in case.)

it’s an odd predicament. for a few minutes, you expect the world to go dark, and for your words to end up being meaningless as death takes you by it’s hand. satoru’s voice sounds distant, scarily far, but you’re able to make out a few whispered pleas. vulnerability is something beautiful, you decide.

it gets harder to listen, and you get a greater urge to rest. maybe for a millennia. your soul feels drained, and a long, uninterrupted sleep is the only thing your brain allows you to register. satoru fades when the world does.

•••

“it was dumb.”

“that’s known. why say it again?”

“because it was dumb.”

you know that life has been lenient, allowing you to continue, as it welcomes you back with familiar voices. you don’t alert them of your awoken state until you feel confident that they’re real.

it’s with a glance that you’re revealed, and the gasp of one makes it known to the other.

satoru is still tempted to hit you. but, he settles with a small wack on your resting hand. you wince, glaring as you blink away your exhaustion. you kinda feel like the rest of your body is on fire.

he’s upset, clearly. watching you with careful vision, and completely silent. but all you’re thinking is how thankful you are to have him actually care.

he keeps his distance.

“you got lucky.”

suguru speaks up, staring, and you can only describe his expression as both relief and disappointment. his eyes trail across you, and you’re made aware that your body is covered amongst thin medical sheets. when he meets your eyes again, one look is enough to tell you of his silent order not to lift them. you follow through, because the mere thought of it is unappealing enough.

“i’ll give you guys some privacy.” he mutters, not without shaking his head, and sighing. it’s nerve-wracking, his demeanor overpowering but oddly tame. just before leaves, he looks at you once more, pursing his lips. his grip on the door is tight. “i’m glad you’re okay, though.”

the air is tense. you beg the world, to anything obtainable, to postpone suguru’s exit, but the sound of the door closing after him leaves your pleas unheard.

you count seconds silently.

it takes ten for satoru to break.

“did you get stupid overnight?”

you snort, tossing your head back in slight retaliation, knowing satoru would probably worsen the headache you can already feel forming.

“seriously, answer me.”

you’re weak to his sternness, blinking in surprise at his tone. he’s unrelenting, brows furrowed as he awaits your response. you look to the wall.

“i’m alive, aren’t i?” you hesitantly reply, a futile attempt to ease the discomfort that is clearly present. it only lands you a scoff, and satoru abruptly stands up, crossing his arms as he looks down at you.

it’s not his favorite sight in the world. there’s a bandage around your head, lightly stained, and he’d seen the state of your injuries before shoko had ultimately pulled the blanket over you.

considering what could have been, he’s more than grateful. but satoru has trouble expressing himself, and it’s a type of flaw that can’t be easily fixed with training.

he shuts his eyes, briefly, and exhales.

“i thought you were a goner.”

upon you losing consciousness, shoko had arrived a mere minute later. satoru thinks the look on her face will be branded into his memory for life — solemn, pitying, and definite. it was only with the help of denial that he had moved with urgency, and commands were thrown at shoko to keep you stable enough for transportation.

a surgery later, and it was told that you would live.

“felt like it.” you cringe, recounting the initial level of pain you had endured when satoru had first found you. it’s subsided for the most part now, though you hold a lingering fear to move, worried that it’d cause more harm than good. the flames of discomfort were decently bearable.

it’s unfortunate that you’re bedridden, for if it were up to you, the easiest solution to all your problems would be to leave the room all together.

satoru is a different person when upset. his presence is overwhelming, and you quickly learn that it is impossible to avoid him.

“i just…” satoru exhales, and there’s a clear conflict of contemplation when he shakes his head. “why would you do that?”

you almost want to poke his side, chastising his concern with a teasing smile and small laugh. but it’s painfully obvious that the last thing satoru wants is something embedded with humor, so you purse your lips, and shrug.

“i just needed to prove to myself that i was capable of defeating it. that i wasn’t useless — you know?”

there’s something you’re not saying; information that remains a mystery. satoru knows it. he can tell by the look on your face.

he’d deciphered the little secret piece the moment you had begun to look away from him.

but because satoru cares (in his own, strange way), he doesn’t bring it up. guilt somewhat gnaws on his insides, and he takes the opportunity to vaguely apologize, needing at least that in the air.

“you are capable. i knew that before all of… this.” satoru motions to you briefly, and despite the circumstances, his wince makes you want to snicker.

he watches your expression softly morph, and a more relaxed and delighted smile rests upon your lips. and he debates, for a while, because ultimately it feels wrong not to bring it up. he falls victim to his guilt.

“and, sorry for lying. suguru told me he told you.”

you nod gently, breathing out a heavy sigh. “kinda evil, satoru.”

in an instant, his eyes widen, and he’s waving his hands wildly.

“hey—hey! i only said it so it could push you more. you can’t work towards improvement without some motivation.”

“how would that motivate me?”

“personally, it would push me to change yaga’s opinion-“

“no, it made me feel like shit, actually.”

“okay, well, i didn’t consider that when i told you-“

“because you’re an idiot.”

almost comically, satoru’s mouth drops.

“who’s the one that fought a first grade by themselves?”

“well, i defeated it, so…”

“not the point.”

you’re smiling, a laugh escaping your lips. satoru doesn’t mirror you much, a more playfully annoyed look on his face.

you stare at each other for a second too long, before you feverishly look away.

the pain has calmed, you realize. you can’t really feel the ache at all.

for a moment, you’re reminded of suguru’s expression. that knowing look in his eyes.

you turn back to look at satoru. and you can feel your heart speed up, just a little, because realization dawns upon you, and you can feel yourself growing flustered.

you think you know what he was trying to say.

[arminsumi]

hii could i request something with suguru involving his shoulder blades... maybe tattoos... body worship or smth? such a vague idea sry

PHYSIQUE

↳ GETO すぐる + fem!reader

note : oooh! good timing for this req i am currently so deeply in love with the male physique. it's so beautiful. smth about the cleft between men's shoulders makes something click in my brain.

warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : contains sexually suggestive content

🍒 More from Jay : GETO works / JJK works

during the day, a white shirt drapes his muscular torso just perfectly enough to hint to his martial artist's physique, the cleft between his shoulders very pronounced.

suguru wears the shirts that have teasing, elbow-length sleeves. he doesn't realize that you're aching to see more of his toned arm, and the tattoo spanning it. it vines around his bicep, runs down his forearm; black ink in his skin of a dragon. he loves when your eyes catch onto the tail of it, and when your fingertips ghost the art. your touch gives him slight goosebumps.

you gawk when you see him behind closed doors, taking his shirt off in the dim glow of your bedroom light. his arm muscles flex as he rids the fabric and tosses it.

"like what you see, hm?" he asks.

it's all there, for you to look at; that pretty, toned physique that hides behind baggy clothes all day.

"touch my body." he commands softly, "don't get shy on me now, didn't you want to do... this?"

he grabs your hand, and places it in the center of his chest, flattens it out, right over a red ink tattoo between the cleavage of his chest. suguru's heartbeat is heavy, you can slightly feel its galloping thump as you splay your fingers out and press hard.

by his encouragement, your hand drifts down his middle. slowly. so slowly, your lips are parted and he loves how starstruck you look. it makes him feel good. makes his ego swell to have you staring at his body like it's the sculpture of david.

he kisses you hard. the passion matches the dim gold light of the room. and this light really reveals the dips and curves of his body so well. the dents of his abs. the contortion of his back muscles as he moves his body softly against yours. his broad shoulders.

suguru relishes in your silent body worshipping, he drinks it up. he looks down at your smaller figure, softly palming your head as your fingers ghost more of his tattoos, the cryptic ones that make no sense, the symbols almost runic-like spanning down his side.

he smoothly navigates your fingers to his reddish brown nipples, all perky and sensitive. the smallest noise comes out of him when you play with his nipples. he tries so hard to not ask you to play with his sensitive nubs. it's embarrassing for him. so he makes you switch focus to his pecs.

"here... squish your fingertip in here... feel that? mhm. pretty firm, isn't it? you know how it feels for a man to touch his own body...? yeah. it's rough. but your hands... they're not calloused... they're so soft and small... almost ticklish... especially down my sides... and over my nipples, too... l-like that haha... fuck. um. anyways... yeah. you said once... that you like this part?"

he brings your hand to his v-line. and god its... yum.

"drooling for me, princess?"

"fuck, haha... shut up... yeah i am..." you respond.

"hey..." he smirks, "tell me... what's your favorite part of my body?" he asks, genuinely curious, his tone sounding a bit self conscious. just a bit. he's always had that shiver of insecurity over his shape.

"every part of your body is my favorite..." you reply honestly, tracing your fingertips around his skin, exploring his body like a map full of hidden treasure.

his eyes light up. brows raise. heart flutters. throat constricts.

"... really?" he whispers. that was unexpected of you to say, and he needed to hear it.

"yeah... i love it..." you admire.

"oh really? you love it? well then... how about you show how much you love it with those pretty lips?"

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part sixteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i am so excited for you guys to see everything I've got coming up for this series- ah!! also, should i post the masterlist for requiem soon?? i can't post the first part just yet, but i'm excited ab it so let me know if you guys want to see that to be able to get the vibes and stuff!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Hello there, Miss." Coryo grins at you, extending his arm to you to hold as you step out of your house and close the door behind you.

You pretend not to see, reaching down to retie your shoe which was already laced up perfectly. "Hi." You reply quietly, and his smile fades. You already seem in weaker spirits than you were this afternoon.

"Did you enjoy your nap?" He asks as you stand up straight again, making your way down the front path of your house to the street and he follows like a stray dog.

You turn when you reach the road, looking at him only briefly. "I did. Thank you." You mumble, unable to make extended eye contact without your heart beating out of your chest. It was hard to tell if you were awake or asleep when he was around.

"That's good." He nods, joining your side. He's there to walk you to The Hob, but he honestly was relying more on you to guide the way.

You don't say anything, walking with your arms crossed carefully, protectively across your midsection.

Coryo is worried, but he does know that you don't want to walk alone at night, so he tries to convince himself it's just that. Not him.

"You, uhm, you look nice." He tells you, taking notice of your change of clothes. It was refreshing to see you in something other than that short dress with the sewn-in shorts, though with the longer skirts you had worn today, it covered much more of your skin. Part of him missed the short dress that was now most definitely unwearable. It was your favourite, he remembered.

"Thank you." You say back, the hair on your arms pricking up from the chill that was starting to settle in. It wasn't a cold night, you didn't think, but colder than Twelve often saw in mid-August. Maybe it was just you. "You do, as well."

He laughs, and you look at him for the first time tonight. His blue eyes shine with the reflection of the sunset, and you're no longer cursing yourself for trusting him to walk you this afternoon. He wouldn't hurt you, and you knew that. Stupid dreams. Stupid nightmares. He saved you- he's the only reason you're alive today, you're certain.

"We're trying to blend in, Sejanus thought we were scaring people." He explains, laughter subsiding.

You smile at him. "I was going to say, that style doesn't feel like your own." You giggle. "But I like it."

"Why, thank you." He grins, tugging on the front of his white t-shirt as if he was adjusting a suit jacket.

Your dreams were just dreams. If he had that evil in him, could you live with it? That was what you had to figure out. Right now, though, with you, that darkness was nowhere to be seen. You were awake. You must be.

"How has Twelve been treating you so far?" You ask, suddenly self-conscious of his impression of your home as your feet crunch over the gravel path beneath you.

"Okay." Coryo shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It was hard to find someone to talk to us long enough to get a lead on where to find you."

"People tend to keep to themselves." You explain. "Also looking for me is an odd request."

"Why?"

Now it was your turn to shrug. "No one really wants to talk to me now, either." The stares you got were seemingly endless. People would stare, point, whisper, and it didn't particularly bother you, but you hated that maybe people were afraid. You feared that everyone thought the games turned you into something fragile, and they were scared of upsetting you with the wrong words or the alternative; you were a weapon ready to explode at any moment.

"That's because people are careless and cruel." Coryo replies, no hesitation behind his tone. "And they have no way of understanding... you."

"They're good people, honestly, I just-"

"I know that." He assures you, sensing your panic. "But it's not your place to prove to them who you are. Changed or not."

"Do you think I have changed?" You ask, genuinely curious despite the softness of your voice.

Coryo is quiet for a moment. "I would say no," He looks at you as you walk alongside him. "but you have, I think. There's more to you, now."

You chew on your lip, watching your steps as you pass under the streetlights.

He watches your reaction, nervous when you don't respond. "I don't mean that in a bad way." He clarifies. "To me, you're still you." He wants to tell you you're less naive, more experienced, that it will keep you safe, but he feels as though that wouldn't be the right thing to say. "But it's impossible to walk out of that arena the same person. We have that in common."

The flickering street lamps illuminate the blush on your cheeks for just a moment. "Thank you, Coryo. That means a great deal." 

"Of course." He hums, walking close enough now to just brush your arm with his own.

Your heart leaps in your chest, from fear or excitement you aren't sure- but you're grateful to be able to finally hear the music coming from The Hob as you approach the rundown building.

There's nowhere else you would want to be any less than The Hob during one of Lucy Gray's shows. You loved her, The Covey, the beautiful and fun music they made together, but since you'd been home, it had been impossible to enjoy yourself there.

You didn't even try until tonight.

Your fears came true. Almost as soon as you and Coriolanus walked in, scattered eyes were on you. You could feel it like pricks in your skin. It didn't help that you were with a stranger. People were dancing, drinking, laughing, but you couldn't help but feel like the laughs were directed at you. Certainly, some staring was.

Coryo looks down at you, seeing your hands still gripped onto your own arms, holding yourself together. He wasn't great with crowds, and seemingly neither were you. His urge was to retreat to the nearest wall, and so was yours. "Let's see if we can track down Sejanus." He offers, holding his arm out behind you while he looks around.

He doesn't want to touch you for fear of making things weird, but god, would it just be so easy to slip his arm around your waist and guide you more effectively. 

"There." He almost doesn't hear you over the music and the shouting surrounding you both, but he follows your finger as you point over to the bar, leaning down closer in case you speak again.

Sure enough, Sejanus is there chatting with some local guy. Coryo sighs. "I leave him for twenty minutes..." He chuckles, shaking his head. "I'll get him, are you okay to wait here?" He asks and you nod, giving him that smile of yours that he hasn't seen all night.

"Good. I'll be right back." He promises, stepping away and through the crowd to go get your friend.

You watch him go, but your attention is drawn when someone pushes past you rather abruptly which makes you jump. The girl looks at you like you're crazy, as you expected she would, so pulling yourself together again, you find an empty table by the side wall and go to sit down. This was too much for you already; you knew that before you even walked in the door, but you were just here to see your friends. Coryo would come back, Sejanus would be with him, and Lucy Gray would sing her songs while you laughed and talked like normal people do. As soon as they returned, it would be okay.

You keep your head down until you hear them bickering over the normal sounds of the bar.

"We're not here to make friends, Sejanus, we're here to-"

"No, no, I get that, but what's the harm?"

You smile at them, taking a shaky breath. "Welcome back."

"Y/N!" Sejanus grins, looking at Coryo briefly before taking the seat across from you. "Glad you could make it."

"Me too." You nod, avoiding looking at Coryo as he takes the spot standing next to you, considering there wasn't another seat.

"Here," He says, voice low in your ear as he holds a glass out to you. "Got you a drink."

"Oh, thank you." You mumble, blushing as you take it from his hand. You can't think of anything worse than being intoxicated and vulnerable in this environment, but the gesture was nice. You wouldn't deny him that.

He rests his arm on the back of your chair, leaning on it and you rest your arms on the table so you can place the glass down as you look at Sejanus. "Tell me more, what have you been up to?" You ask, desperate for some conversation to distract yourself.

"Well, we graduated." Sejanus answers, nodding toward the boy standing beside you.

"Oh, gosh, congratulations!" You smile, looking between the two of them. Coryo is stone-faced.

"I sent you an invitation." He says into the rim of his glass, looking down at you.

"Oh?" You ask, and Sejanus nods in confirmation.

"We were hoping you'd be able to make it. We were going to come get you." He explains, and Coryo lets the glass scrape against his teeth. It was his invitation that he sent, and he was the one who offered to come get you. Sejanus had nothing to do with it besides encouraging him to actually send the letter.

"I didn't- I didn't get it." You tell them honestly, brow furrowed. "I don't know if I could have... gone back, you know, but I would have at least sent a gift, or something. I am so sorry."

Coryo raises an eyebrow. "You didn't get it?" He asks, almost relieved by the idea.

"No, nothing."

"Oh. Well, nothing could be done then, I suppose." He shrugs it off. Maybe if you truly hadn't received the invite, you haven't received any of the letters he sent. Someone along the route to the address he used decided you weren't worth looking for, and that wasn't your fault. Lucy Gray had told him as much, but he trusted it more falling from your lips.

"Truly, though, I am so sorry I couldn't be there." You say, looking between the two of them with a newfound urgency. You didn't want them to resent you, especially if they thought they had been ignored. "I didn't know, honest."

"Don't worry about it." Sejanus assures you. "We didn't want to be there either."

"But I did, I would have loved to but it's just hard to get out of Twelve and I wouldn't have anywhere to stay and like I said I'm just not ready to go back but I really would have loved to be able to be there for you."

"Y/N, hey..." Coryo chuckles, leaning down again to be face-to-face with you. "We get it. We're not upset with you, I promise."

Promise. The two of you were always making promises to each other, apparently. It made you feel better and he knew that.

"O-okay..." You nod slowly, deciding now is as good a time as any to try your drink. You turn your face from him, having been just inches apart to take a sip. Beer was far from your favourite, but you were never much of a drinker anyway. You place the glass back down and smooth out your skirt over your lap, regaining your normal grin. "Well, Fortune is merry, and in this mood will give us anything."

"Very good point." Coriolanus agrees quickly, tapping his hand on the back of your chair. The smile that crosses your face when you look up at him, thinking he understood and cared to respond makes him want to collapse in on himself and sink into the floor. You deserved so much more than being elated when someone understood you, and he could give you everything if you would just trust him.

"Y/L/N, how dare you show your face here!" A voice calls you by your last name and you snap your head in their direction.

Coryo furrows his brow, watching warily as a boy about his age walks up to your table. He's ready to step in, maybe this is why you hadn't been coming- because people, boys had been harassing you. He should have seen that coming. You were beautiful, every time he looked at you it was hard to look away again- obviously, this kind of attention would be a common occurrence. He lifts his shoulders and puts down his drink, but he looks at you and you're smiling.

"Hi." You giggle, actually giggle- and it makes Coryo almost just as angry as if this random guy had just threatened you.

He leans his elbows against the table. "Been a long time since I seen you. How you been?" He asks, sipping his beer as he makes dead eye contact with you.

"Only a couple of days, River." You grin.

"Oh yeah, that's right..." He hums. "Been real interested in that book you let me borrow, you know."

"Have you?" You smile, leaning in with excitement, ready to discuss it.

Who was this guy? A friend? Something more? The way you were looking at him, the fact that you let him borrow one of your books made envy swirl in Coryo's stomach. He hated it. He clears his throat to remind you they were there before you got sucked into talking about whatever book you gave the boy.

"Oh." You look up at him. "River, this is-"

"Yeah, who are these clowns? Botherin' you?" He interrupts you, and Coryo is more peeved about that than the fact that he was just referred to as a clown.

"Not in the slightest." You hum. "These are my friends, Sejanus and Coryo. They came all the way from the Capitol just to visit me, isn't that sweet?"

"Ah..." The boy hums, standing back up and holding a hand out for Sejanus to shake before turning to Coryo as he keeps his grip on the back of your chair. "Nice to meet you both, then."

"It's Coriolanus." He corrects you as he shakes the boy's hand, squeezing it probably more than what is polite.

"Oh wow." River's eyes widen and he chuckles, looking down at you again. "You're not really the friendly type I guess. Y/N here can make friends with just about anyone, I suppose."

"River..." You frown, shaking your head at him. Coryo clenches his jaw.

"I'm sorry! Sorry, I'm not great with new people either. That's my bad." He laughs it off, patting Coryo's shoulder as he drops his hand. "Anyway, Y/N, I didn't expect to see you out and about. Holdin' up okay?"

"I'm well. Thank you." You nod, taking another sip of your drink. River was a good friend, maybe even a great one. He works with your father in the mines, he started as soon as he turned eighteen a few months before you. You've become closer since then.

"Glad to hear it." He nods at you, looking around the crowded room. He bottoms his drink, shaking it in your face. "Time for a refill so I'm gonna leave ya be, but shout if you need anything, alright sweetheart?"

"Thank you!" You call after him as he turns to walk off, winking at you.

"Sweetheart." Coryo mumbles into his glass with a slight shake of his head as he watches the boy walk away. You didn't hear him, and he wasn't sure he wanted you to.

"Who's that?" Sejanus asks. "He seems nice."

"We went to school together, now he works with my father," You explain. "but I've known him most of my life. He's very kind, just a little... outspoken. He'll always tell you what he's thinking." You chuckle, and Coryo bites his tongue.

You catch his expression of disapproval. "He didn't mean any harm, just trying to be welcoming. He was nervous, I could tell." Returning your gaze to Lucy Gray up on the stage, you smile and give her a quick wave. She smiles back, nodding at you.

"You never mentioned him." Coryo comments.

"Well, I..." You stop yourself, staring down at your lap. "I had a lot on my mind..."

"Do you know anyone else? Give us the tour." Sejanus suggests quickly, pointing around the room.

You smile, forcing yourself to ignore your worries about how Coryo is feeling. "Almost everyone, yes." You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak.

"Is that why you didn't want to come?" Coryo asks you and you look up at him again, smile faltering.

"I- It's not that I didn't want to." You answer, fidgeting now with the fabric in your lap. "I just... I don't know. It's hard to... I don't know. Everything feels so difficult these days..." You laugh nervously.

There's that word he was so afraid of. Hard. In reference to something as simple as going out and spending time with your peers- people you had clearly considered friends before the games. It seemed like another lifetime to you, he could see it in the way you so intensely watched yourself pick at your own fingernails. He wished while laying in his bed at night that you were happy here, that your life was normal, even if he couldn't be a part of it; but that was unrealistic and part of him knew that.

"It's okay." Coryo reminds you quickly. "You don't have to explain yourself to us." He smiles, trying to be reassuring. "If you want to leave we can go. Just say the word, Y/N/N."

You shake your head, looking back up at him with that same glowing smile that subtly begs him not to worry about you- but he has to. "It's completely okay." You assure him with a quick wave of your hand. "Okay, so..." You drum your fingers on the tabletop, looking around and attaching names to faces.

"That's Sienna, I went to school with her sister." You point over to a girl in a group of a few others. "And she's with Fern and Hazel, Hazel's the one with the light hair." The boy's eyes follow where you're pointing as you look over at another group. "Oh, and over with River, the taller boy next to him is Rowan." You explain. "His little brother is friends with mine. Then over there, by the stage is Billy Taupe- that's Lucy Gray's boyfriend. Kind of, they're on and off these days."

Coryo nods, trying to commit these names to memory. He didn't plan on speaking to any of them, but if you wanted to, which he doubted, he would try. 

"And that's-" Your voice cuts out so quick it's as if someone had slapped a hand over your mouth when another boy walked up to join the two standing by the bar. Quickly Coryo is looking down at you again as the blood drains steadily from your face. You cough, shaking your head. "Uh, I don't really know anyone else's names." You lie.

"You okay?" Sejanus asks you and you nod, quickly grabbing your glass and taking a few large gulps, the foul taste of beer forcing its way down your throat. 

"Yeah, just, I haven't seen these people in a while."

Coryo watches, jaw clenched tight as River converses with the blonde boy who just walked up to him and your other friend whose name he's already forgotten. River takes a swig from his drink, laughs as he puts the glass down on the bar, and then points over to the three of you. He was telling whoever the hell that was that you were there- and clearly you weren't keen on him.

"Let's go, yeah?" Coryo suggests quickly, abandoning his drink on the table to step in front of you. He extends his hand to help you up which you gratefully take. He could feel your hand trembling in his. 

He squeezes your hand gently, still shielding you from the group of boys. You didn't need to say a word. "Sejanus, I'm going to take Y/N home, are you okay here?"

"For sure." He nods, looking worried now at the very sudden shift in your energy and Coryo's clear protectiveness. "Do you want me to come?"

"No, no. It's okay." You smile, comforted by Coryo's presence behind you. "You stay and have fun."

"Alright, well, I'll see you soon?" He smiles and you nod, but Coryo is already guiding you away.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[libraryofantiquitea]

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬.

pairing: robert "bob" floyd x reader

summary: bob leaves a bite mark on you that you wear proudly out to a game of pool with the dagger squad at the hard deck. it leaves bob a little flustered.

warnings: explicit, minors do not interact! sex in public, unprotected sex, strangulation, kinda dom!bob, bob's glasses attempting to make a getaway.

word count: 2.1k

author's notes: many thanks to the creator coven for ensuring that i will never know a moment's peace while in this fandom. y'all are a gift!

likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! ♥

You probably should’ve been a little self conscious about the literal bite mark on your shoulder, but instead you wore it like some sort of badge of honour, along with a strappy sundress to show it off for all to see. You thought it was lovely in a macabre sort of way. The bite was on the cap of your shoulder, and it was blooming purple and blue, the colours looking remarkably striking against your skin and the yellow of your dress.

It was extremely obvious who had given it to you, and you relished in how Bob’s friends reacted upon seeing it. Jake had glanced from you to Bob, surprise on his features before turning back to his game of pool, Natasha had given an approving nod as she handed you a beer, and Bradley had looked away quickly before his stare became too obvious, then moving toward Bob and giving him a pat on the back.

Bob, who seemed so unassuming, did not seem the type to gnaw on his girlfriend, and leave her with remnants of their trysts. But the rest of the Dagger Squad were learning, perhaps much to their surprise, that Bob contained multitudes.

And who was having a very difficult time focusing on anything because his gaze kept drifting toward you, that look in his eyes that made you weak in the knees. He wanted something, and he wanted you. Giving you the occasional kiss on the cheek, or squeezing you around the waist wasn’t enough.

You excused yourself from the group to go to the washroom for the first time that evening, fully intending to only be gone for a few minutes.

Bob had alternate plans.

You were standing at the counter, having finished washing your hands, and were applying a tiny bit more lipstick when the door opened. You didn’t bother looking over and acknowledging at first, but the presence moving behind you commanded your attention.

“Bob!” you said, a little startled. “You know you’re in the ladies room, right?”

“Gender is a social construct,” Bob said in a matter of fact voice, resting his chin on your shoulder, the non-bitten one. He met your gaze in the mirror. “Also, you’re making me lose my entire mind out there.”

“What am I doing?” you asked, looking at Bob in the mirror. You honestly had no idea.

“Wearing this little dress,” he murmured, dropping his head and inhaling the scent of you. The feeling of his nose pressed along your neck had you sighing. “Parading around with my love bite on display.”

“Do you not like that people can see it?” you asked as Bob placed his hands on your hips, gently pressing himself against your ass.

“I love that people can see it. Know that you belong to me,” Bob replied. “It’s just … doing things to me, darlin’. I want to throw you down onto that pool table, make everyone watch as I push your dress up, fuck you until you’re screaming, get your pussy juices all over my cock.”

“Oh my god,” you murmured, bringing your thighs together tightly and closing your eyes. Bob never struck you as an exhibitionist, but you were learning a lot about him since you’d started sleeping together. Things like he could be bitey, and wanted to fuck you in a room full of people.

Bob pressed his hips against your ass, and you could feel his growing length through his jeans. Your heart was racing, someone could walk into the bathroom at any moment. The idea that someone might catch you thrilled you a little more than you thought it might.

Grabbing your throat, just under your chin, he lifted your head, forcing you to watch in the mirror as his tongue moved along the bite mark. You shuddered against him, your hands resting against the bathroom counter, pushing your ass back against his crotch.

You were trapped between his weight and the counter, there was nowhere for you to go.

It was at that moment that the roll of Bob’s hips stuttered against you, and he groaned into your shoulder. He’d finally realized something that you’d been waiting for him to figure out all night.

“You’re not wearing underwear?” he groaned, one of his hands moving just under your belly. “Shit. You’re torturing me, darlin’. Gonna soak the front of my jeans.”

He was still holding your chin, but his index finger made its way into your mouth. You gasped, sliding your tongue against the calloused pad of his finger, nibbling on it slowly.

“So take them off, Bobby.”

“Fuck.”

You kept your gaze focused on him in the mirror, watching as he undid his belt and pulled down the zipper of his jeans one handed, not relinquishing the hold he had on your throat. You groaned softly, seeing a flash of his cock head in the mirror. Fuck, you looked so wrecked already, and Bob looked like he was going to tear you apart.

Bob pushed the fabric of your dress up over your ass, and groaned as he looked down, giving it a very enthusiastic squeeze. 

“You’re such a tease, baby,” Bob groaned, grabbing his cock and sliding it against your wet lips. You made a strangled noise, biting back something much louder lest someone outside hear you over the music. Bob continued to drag his cock through the wetness that had collected at your core, even when you pushed back against him. “You’ve spent the whole night teasing me. It’s my turn.”

“God damn it, Bobby,” you whined, your hand clenching into a fist and slamming against the counter. 

You rolled your hips, grinding against his thick cock, desperate to get it inside of you. Bob was looking down, watching you move against him, and you watched in the mirror as his glasses began to fall down this nose, the damp strands of hair curling over his forehead.

“You want it bad, don’t you, darlin’?” he asked, lifting his head and making eye contact with you in the mirror again.

“Yes, Bobby,” you breathed, and he clutched at your throat a little harder. You gasped and tried to squeeze your legs together.

“No,” Bob scolded. “Keep your legs open for me.”

“Bobby.”

“Slut,” Bob gasped, and you watched the flush begin to spread against his cheeks. He only ever called you that when he was already too far gone. “You’re my little cock slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” you replied in a harsh whisper. “Bob, please -”

You felt him enter you and you let out a relieved sigh, eyelids closing for a moment. You were expecting him to keep going, but all he pressed inside of you was the tip of his cock, before pulling it out and doing it all over again. You whined, a pathetic sounding noise that reverberated off the walls of The Hard Deck’s ladies room, and leaned forward on the counter, pushing back, chasing his cock.

“Give it - give it to me,” you whined. “Please.”

Bob wrapped his free hand around his cock, and pushed it back inside, again, just the tip. You ground against the curl of his fingers, clit moving against the class ring that he wore. And again, he pulled it out.

“Bobby, I’ll scream so loud the whole bar will hear,” you threatened.

He grabbed you, pulling you back flush against him, squeezing your throat so hard that the blunt edges of his fingernails cut into your skin. You made a startled, delighted, almost frightened sound, and grabbed onto his side to steady yourself. You loved when he got like this.

“Do it,” Bob grunted against your ear. “Let them know how badly you want it. Little cock slut.”

He held you tight against him, and searched for your entrance once more with the head of his cock. Bob slammed his cock inside of you, and though you had threatened to scream, no sound came out when you parted your lips.

“Take it. Take it,” Bob groaned, biting at the column of your throat. “Take that dick, darlin’.”

You cried out as he manhandled you, pushing you forward, bending you over the counter. He grabbed one of your legs, behind the knee, and pushed it onto the counter as well, opening you up more for him. You glanced up to look in the mirror once more, unable to take your eyes off of him, watching as he tipped his head back, moaning to the ceiling as he slammed into you again and again.

“Fuck,” you whined, writhing against the counter, not knowing when the last time it was cleaned might be. Not caring. You tried to meet Bob’s thrusts, but there was no way that you could, each snap forward of his hips stuttering against you.

“Is this what you - what you wanted?” Bob panted, his fingers sinking into the supple flesh of your hips. “Huh? To take my dick in that tight little pussy where someone could walk in and see you? See you acting like the slut you are?”

You cried out softly, worming a hand between yourself and the counter, needing some manner of relief. Bob saw what you were doing, and reached for your wrist, pulling your hand away and holding it against the counter. He changed the angle of his thrusts so that the base of his cock hit your clit - again and again and again.

“Bobby,” you keened, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It was too good, and you were desperate to chase each feeling he gave you, that washed over you.

“Come on my cock,” Bob rasped, leaning over and pressing his lips against your ear. His tongue darted out to lick at the shell of it, before he pulled the lobe gently into his mouth with his teeth. “I - I wanna feel you all over me. Come on it, darlin’. Come on me.”

You slammed your open palm against the counter, crying out as softly as you could, though you were certain that someone would hear you. Your orgasm came in waves, leaving you shuddering and twitching against Bob as you gave him just what he had asked for. 

Bob fucked you through your orgasm, your name a mantra on his lips that he cried out toward the ceiling as he came. You clenched around him, wanting to draw every drop he could give you deep inside. He grunted one last time and then leaned over you, letting out a long, shuddering breath.

“Oh fuck.”

The two of you stood there, sprawled out over the counter as you fought to catch your breath. Bob pushed your hair aside and gently kissed your neck, nuzzling at you with his nose.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered.

You nodded, letting out a contented sigh. “Yeah. I - wow.”

The two of you mournfully pulled apart, standing on the legs of newborn deer as opposed to your own, helping each other get cleaned up. You helped Bob readjust his glasses, and he got some damp paper towel to clean you up. The entire time you traded tender kisses and gentle touches, giggling about what you had just done. It was not like either of you, and it thrilled you both.

“I’ll make sure the coast is clear,” you said, pressing a gentle kiss to Bob’s chin before making your way to the door.

Poking your head outside you spotted a wet floor sign in front of the door, and Bradley standing not too far away, more or less pacing back and forth. 

“Rooster,” you began, stepping out of the bathroom, and Bob followed closely behind. “What the fuck?”

Bradley whirled around and let out an exasperated, “Finally! Nat thought something might be up so she went to check on you. Came back and told us we should take turns making sure no one else went in there until you came out.”

Bob turned a shade of red you hadn’t seen before, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

“Oops,” you said, reaching for Bob’s hand and lacing your fingers together.

“Who’s idea was the wet floor sign?” Bob asked, gesturing to the sign near the door.

“Seresin’s.”

“Of course it was.”

You laughed, pulling Bob a little closer to you as the three of you made your way back to the rest of the group. No one said a damn thing, and new beers were fetched for you and Bob.

The night out had continued, though at one point while Bob was playing pool with Javy you pulled out your phone to text him.

Baby I can feel your come running down my leg.

You watched as Bob reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out. He looked at the screen, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, before he began furiously texting you back.

Call a cab. If we don’t get u home ASAP im gonna lick your cunt in front of everyone.

/end.

[reve-writes]

—rotten work; leon kennedy.

ʚ leon kennedy x reader | resident evil | 0,6k words. ʚ leon fusses over the reader and the reader is mouthy and teases him about it. both are agents. ʚ just fluff. ʚ a/n honestly i just wanted to rizz up leon. very short and self-indulgent.

“Let me catch my breath.”

You plop down on the floor, legs spread, balancing on your palms in a randomly abandoned room in the skyscraper. Fucking zombies. They have to happen on a place with over seventy floors and you have to take the stairs. Why can't they choose two-storey mansions instead?

You're heaving, jacket and cargo pants slicked with undead blood and you're starting to rack up quite the stench.

Leon, ever the responsible one, is checking every nook and cranny. It seems to be an office room and he's checking every desk, curtains and cupboards for potential danger, before he settles on the table closest to you and leans his body weight onto it. He tucks his hands into his elbows, staring at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“This is the part where you tell me off.”

He looks like he wants to, but instead sighs out a heavy breath. “Is there a point?”

“Well—”

“That was reckless.”

“Here we go.”

“We agreed to stick together.”

“That was before—”

“You have a terrible sense of direction. Running off by yourself when you don't even know where you're running off to is not your brightest idea.”

“Maybe I've gotten better—”

“Don't bet your life on maybe,” he seethes.

Leon doesn't raise his voice. He just doesn't. You argue often, of course, both on the field and off. The two of you are often too stubborn for your own good, but things are always resolved in an instant. That's why the two of you work so well as mission partners. You don't hold grudges, nor do you let harmful feelings fester.

He doesn't raise his voice but you can tell that he's agitated by the way he's glaring at you.

“Let me have it,” you sigh. “I know you've got a lot to say, Leon. Spit it out.”

“You are one of the most irresponsible agents I have had the pleasure to work—”

You quip, feigning a pout, “You work with other agents?”

“None as irresponsible as you apparently. I don't know how you're still alive—”

“Well, I would argue my being irresponsible has actually led to me not dying.”

“Am I the one speaking or are you?”

You raise both of your hands in a surrendering manner. “You, Agent Kennedy.”

He sighs. “Just, take care of yourself.”

“But I have you to do that for me.”

Leon looks over to you and his breath genuinely catches when he sees your teasing smile, the lines of your lips curl lop-sidedly upward. It's a conscious decision he has to make—tearing his eyes off of you.

He stares at you pointedly. It's a ruse, pretending that he doesn't want to care for you, that his chest doesn't grow tight with worry whenever he thinks you may be harmed. “Part of my job description, apparently.”

“Don't sound so unhappy about it, Leon.”

“Who? Me? Unhappy?” He lets out the beginning of a chuckle. “Never.”

You stood up, dusting yourself off and approach the blond. You step close—a little too close, perhaps, but the you revel in the thrill. His eyes watches you, observing your movements, following the path of your hand as it slides up his shoulder to rest on the bottom of his chin.

You nudge his head forward slightly. He leans back, challenging look in his eyes.

“You are cute when you fuss over me.”

Leon doesn't smile often—not as much as he used to. He remembers being twenty-one and throwing smiles as easy as delivering sarcastic one-liners, but it doesn't come as easy to him anymore. Yet, when he hears that, it calls upon a small smile—involuntary and spontaneous, but welcomed all the same.

“Only when I fuss over you?” He challenges, gloved hand wrapping around your wrist.

You roll your eyes, stepping backwards. “We should go. The world isn't going to save itself.”

“We should.”

This is turning out to be an enjoyable mission, after all.

[ ]

[meanbossart]

Ask Compilation: Advice, influences and Misc.

Apologies for taking so long on some of these, admittedly I'm much more likely to entirely forget about asks that are about me and my interests 💃 Thank you for all the questions regardless! And thank you specially to everyone who just drops nice messages into my inbox out of kindness.

I'm brazillian and a native portuguese speaker!

I'll probably return to twitter eventually, but a) I hate that place and b) It didn't make much sense to me to turn it into a BG3 account out of the blue. I am considering making an Instagram or a new twitter just to have more places where people can follow in case they don't care for tumblr, but it's just been a very busy year so far and so that's kind of low on the list of priorities. If I ever do that I'll be sure to announce it here. Have a nice day yourself!

Sorry to hear that! I've gotten a few messages before about this issue, and the problem is that since I am myself not from the US, my options are also limited :( a lot of patreon alternatives don't work for me because they either don't go through paypal, take insane currency conversion fees, or just straight up block me from signing up.

Speak for yourself, I just assume everyone I speak to online has committed some sort of atrocious crime until proven otherwise. Except for me - of course. I have never done anything bad in my life.

I still have a lot to learn! But I will basically use whatever works for me at the moment, as well as make a sincere effort to learn about musculature and anatomy so I can understand those components and how they move, instead of only knowing what they look like when still - that's how you get better at drawing from memory. Volume mostly comes from coloring and understanding light, which is it's own beast but can very much be learned from similar reference materials and observing it IRL!

My favorite places to get reference are medical diagrams, weird pictures I take of myself, 3D software (often Virt-a-mate) and questionably phrased image google searches.

My favorite artists are Jason Shawn Alexander and Sean Murphy, but I'm not sure how much of it reflects in my art nowadays! I generally seek to pick up techniques from artists rather than to emulate style.

Honestly I love that you guys generally do the thing he would hate the most: take him very non-seriously LOL

I've been in a real Chelsea Wolfe and Amyl And The Sniffers kick lately! But usually you'll also find me listening to stuff like Boy Harsher, Swans, FWF, JK Flesh Lingua Ignota, Nick Cave, David Bowie, and so on. Music for the weird gays, basically.

I went insane and wrote a 23-chapter-long-and-still-ongoing fic in like four months. But also - I'm not that good, I'm just shamelessly pretentious LOL

Hm. That's a good question, but I'm not really sure. Sincerely not trying to be a edgier-than-thou here (in fact, this has made me a little self conscious at one time or another) but a lot of art that I don't mean to be horror-y in nature at all has been associated with the genre. So perhaps I don't know what I'm doing either, LOL.

I think just leaning on making things look slightly "wrong" or "ugly" on purpose is the way, but I also find that if you just seek to depict people as they are instead of idealized versions of themselves, you will arrive at that either way.

Thank you for reading! Honestly, I'm guilty of having not read much at all since I was in my late teens, and the style I'm employing for ANE is very different from the things I would call "influential" for me, or even that I used to enjoy reading at all before. I read a lot of Chuck Palahniuk as a youth (and, no slight to people who do like him still, but nowadays I'm not sure why I ever did. His stories don't speak to me at all anymore) as well a lot of weird experimental lit that I didn't even care to remember the name of. My last book stint from one or two years ago was composed solely of historical and medical literature, and last year I got really into Cormac Mcarthy thanks to the internet.

So, all in all, I'm absolutely all over the place LOL if you put a gun to my head and told me to list my favorite books, I'd say The Indifferent Stars Above and Blood Meridian.

(Consider the reading portion of the question to have been answered above) I really really liked Beau is Afraid and think it's a really great "horror" movie. Sue me.

[xaeethebaee]

random nsfw hcs part 3? 👀 (i’m tryna see sum about baji)

Random NSFW Headcanons Part Three

MINORS DNI! 18+ FOLKS ONLY!

You asked, so I am delivering. Just like the first two times, these are random sexual headcanons about the characters of Tokyo Revengers.

Warnings: Implied violence, mentions of vomit, implied food play, VERY awkward dirty talk, and rim jobs

A/n: Please keep in mind that every single character is over 18!

Hanma thought it would be funny to blow cigarette smoke into your pussy. He has a broken nose now. (Off to a great start lol)

Sanzu often thinks about whether or not he has a bigger dick than Mikey

Shion's favorite sex position is reverse cowgirl because of how fast it makes him cum. He also cums so hard that he quickly gets overstimulated

Speaking of Shion's love for overstimulation, he'll stay in that position until he's sobbing and shooting blanks

Izana has a peculiar habit of lifting your skirt and smacking your ass no matter the location

Yuzuha's favorite place to sit is on your face (as the Queen should!)

Rindou has an entire playlist for sex. These are all songs that he has mixed himself

Don't complain about period cramps around Benkei because he will definitely love to fuck the cramps out of you

Kisaki's favorite method of punishing you is by handcuffing your hands to the bed and edging you with toys for hours

Wrap a fruit roll up around Nahoya's dick and suck it until the candy dissolves will cause him to propose on the spot

Mitsuya secretly taught Inupi the trick of getting girls to squirt with just his fingers

The slow and romantic love-making types are SHINICHIRO, KAKUCHO, HAKKAI, MITSUYA, Kokonoi, Souya, Benkei, Peh, Rindou, Chifuyu, Sanzu, South, and Mucho

Baji has volunteered you to model for Mitsuya's newest and sexiest lingerie set

One day, Rindou accidentally walked in on Ran holding a cucumber. He quickly left before he could witness what could happen next.

Kokonoi writes erotica novels using sexual experiences told by members of Toman and Black Dragons

Takemichi made Hinata cum by just sucking on her nipples

Wakasa once sprayed whipped cream all over your pussy and proceeded to lick it completely clean

Who lives for fucking while being recorded? (wannabe pornstars lol) HANMA, SOUTH, RAN, Sanzu, and Shion.

Ran has MANY sex tapes with his ex-girlfriends

Surprisingly, Hanma has a low body count (less than 10 people)

Mitsuya never had a threesome until Baji randomly showed up at his studio with you - his girlfriend

These dudes LOVE to have their faces to be sat on. SHION, HANMA, SOUTH, Kokonoi, Shinichiro, Takeomi, Mikey, and Mucho

Kisaki likes head more than sex because it makes him feel more dominant

South gets so filthy when he is eating your pussy, so prepare for him to also give your ass some attention too. Honestly, he'll worship your entire body with his tongue

Inupi is actually really self-conscious when it comes to sex so please reassure him

Pah-chin and his wife are members of the Mile-High club

Draken's dirty talk NEEDS improvement. "You wanna be fucked, bitch?" he asks in a monotone voice, completely destroying the mood

On the flip side, the king of Dirty Talk is hands down WAKASA IMAUSHI. The things he'll whisper in your ear will have you feeling your heartbeat in your clit

Taiju loves fucking missionary since he gets to watch your face contort with pleasure under him

Speaking of Taiju, he has MAJOR breeding kink energy

Smiley once stuck his fingers so deep down your throat that it caused you to vomit. It turned him on more

The day Kazutora was given a boobjob was the day he shot boatloads of cum all over your chest. It was so much that he could've impregnated an entire village

Chifuyu went through a phase where he would roleplay cheesy porn plots with you (ex: wife fucking the pool cleaner guy)

The rough-fucking types (bye bye your ability to walk for a day): HANMA, BAJI, SMILEY, Kisaki, Mocchi, Ran, Izana, Senju, and Taiju

Hakkai forgets that he has a big dick way too often so he'll try fucking without properly prepping you. Please remind him unless you like the pain

Senju LOVES boobplay - whether it be receiving or giving

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These are just some more that I can think of. Don't expect a part 4 any time soon lol

Just a quick announcement, my next big project is centered around members of the Tokyo Manji Gang. They will be sharing their wildest sex stories. If you want to be on the taglist for that, let me know. (If you're wandering, the Reader x Draken x Hanma threesome is included in that)

[outivv]

Can we get some separate headcanons of Xiao and wanderer with a Timid but kind reader?

Reader is extremely quite at first but show lots of act of service (like when they were injured, reader is the first one to try to help n stuff), and because of how timid and weak the reader look people always take advantage of themm(￣∇￣+)

It's alright if ya don't want to,have a nice dayy!^^

Synopsis: timid/ quiet reader who’s love language is acts of service!!

Warnings: not proofread

Characters: xiao, wanderer, and dehya

Pronouns for reader: gender neutral/ not mentioned

A/n: hello hello!! Thank you for requesting!! I hope you don’t mind me adding dehya, I just reallllly wanted to write for her :’). Anyways!! Hope you enjoy, and have a great rest of your day!!

— Xiao —

I think your more timid, and quiet personality mixes with xiao’s really well. I don’t know why but it’s givingggg power couple.

Anyways, I feel like xiao is pretty oblivious to your acts of service, he appreciates them but he doesn’t know why you’re doing them you know? Like when you help him with his wounds, or make him food, or do literally anything for him, he doesn’t understand… why.

You hum happily as you tend to xiaos clothes, mending them, and sewing back the tears in his clothes. Xiao watches from afar, seeing you so happy just… doing something for him. He doesn’t get it. Why are you being so nice to him? You even lent him some spare clothes you had, the thought of wearing clothes that are originally yours makes his cheeks flush. “Here you go!! All better now.” You say handing him his clothes and returning his thoughts to normal. Your sweet smile, and the way his clothes are gently folded- it’s all too much.

“Why do you do things for me?” He asks rather bluntly. Your smile drops, “what do you mean?” He glares, not out of malice, but out of frustration. He feels his question is rather silly to be honest, “I mean you help me when I’m wounded, you fix my clothes, you tidy my room at wangshu inn, and I don’t have to ask for any of it. Why do you do it?” Your blank face turns to one of pure adoration, and almost… pity, “because I care about you. Taking care of things, and people- it’s how I show love.” Your response isn’t what he expected, he honestly expected you were doing it an an exchange for your guaranteed protection. But in reality it was just as simple as… you loved him. He took his nicely folded clothes and disappeared, his heart racing, and face flushed. He hoped you didn’t notice before he left. 

I think after that encounter he gets much more flustered, and aware of your acts of service. He definitely appreciates it, and voices that appreciation in various ways. By checking in on you, idly hanging around you more, developing a crush on you you know. Simple things like that :)

He really hates that people take advantage of you, but he’s also very concerned that he’s doing the same… unintentionally JEGJEG. He’s like “that jerk just took advantage of [name] and I know it. Oh my god am I being a hypocrite right now? Am I doing the same as that jerk? Oh…” he’s very self conscious and worried that he’s taking advantage of you without realizing it. He’s not. You know he’s not.

— Wanderer —

Respectfully. He probably has told you to have a spine because of how often people take advantage of you. He’s harsh with his words, but they hold a strange sense of genuine concern, and care in them. He sees how these people hurt you, and he doesn’t want that of course, but he’ll express it in a way that comes off as much harsher than intended.

“I just don’t understand.” You say wiping your tears and sniffling. Wanderer sighs, and moves your hand from your face to wipe your tears himself, “I do. It’s because you don’t know how to tell others to do it themselves.” His usual glare is focused, worry pooling in his eyes, though he hides it very well. His heart may break a thousand times from seeing you cry, but you’ll never know that.

You look up at him, your tear filled eyes, and red face drenched in sorrow, and confusion as to why people are continuously walking all over you, how they have the audacity to do so. “I just… I wanna help people, I want to show them that I care.” You sob harder, your words broken up by hiccups. Wander thinks back to all the times you help him and his gaze softens, “people who have the sheer nerve to take advantage of you, don’t deserve your kindness. You need to actually have a backbone, and ignore them.” His words sting a bit, but you know he’s right. You wrap your arms about him to hug him, a sign of thanks for his advice.

He appreciates your help, and everything you do for him, but he’s the type to be like “no it’s fine I can do it myself” and be all stubborn even if… he can’t do it himself KEVEKEG. It’s rather annoying to be honest, you wanna showcase your feelings for him, and you can only do that in a simple way, and he won’t let you because of his own pride!!

He does let you do some things for him though. Mostly just things he doesn’t necessarily know how to do, like I feel like he isn’t superb at writing. Not that he’s bad at it per say, but he just isn’t great at it. So when you write him things, or write for him, he’s very appreciative. :)

— Dehya —

Strong independent woman!! Who will crumble by the fact that you so kindly do things for her, and enjoy doing them, and ahh. Dehya is a big acts of service person, it’s one of her main love languages too, so if you’re trying to tell her you love her (in a platonic/romantic way) then she absolutely loves it.

Dehya returns to your camp to notice food freshly made, clothes folded, and tents and beds made. “[name] did you really do all this while I was gone?” Dehya asks astonished. You turn around from folding another pair of clothes “hm? Oh yes!! I wanted to get some stuff done so we could enjoy ourselves. We’ve been traveling for a while, and while you were gone completing a commission, I just thought I’d be helpful…” a smile grows on dehya’s face at your words, her heart swells with all the love in the world for you.

I feel like dehya would try to do the same for you in a way. I don’t know how to explain but you both do things for each other, and it’s just a never ending cycle of basically saying “I LOVE YOU” “I LOVE YOU MORE” “NO I LOVE YOU MORE” “NO THATS IMPOSSIBLE I LOVE YOU THE MOST” “NO I-“ you get what I’m saying.

No one dares to take advantage of you, especially by the mere mention of dehya’s name :), so thankfully, you don’t have to worry about that.

[luveline]

if you’re doing hotch baby blurbs maybe hotch reconnecting with an old friend maybe an ex fling and there are sparks

thank you for your request! ♥︎ fem!reader 1.2k

Aaron has occasionally seen strangers with your face. It sounds unsettling. In reality, he enjoys those few seconds. He sees someone with your hair, your shoulders, and he waits for them to turn around and smile your sweet smile. They never do. 

Or, they usually don't. 

You turn around and Hotch's heart does a hurdle, another when your familiar smile lights up your face. When you're sure he's recognised you it somehow grows brighter; you're sunshine incarnate as you weave through uniforms and desks to reach him. 

"Aaron," you say, and there's the shyness he remembers, your eyes flitting over the surprised faces of his team. "Hi, how are you? I didn't know you were coming here." 

He smiles as you reach up to hug him around the neck. It's a decidedly slow hug, not quite professional though you never have been, but it's also very gentle. It's a hug between friends.  

"I had no idea you were here," he says honestly. 

"Oh, I know. I'm not good at using my emails even if you did." Your eyelashes kiss in the corners, your serene smile yet to fall. "It's so good to see you," —you pull away from him, directing your attention to the team— "and to meet you all. I'm Y/N L/N." 

Aaron introduces the team, thankfully without tripping up. 

"How do you know each other?" Morgan asks, always one to be nosey when the others won't risk it. 

You wait for Hotch to answer. 

"We worked at the same office when I was an attorney," he says. 

"You were an attorney?" Prentiss asks you. 

"Oh, no, I was just a glorified secretary honestly. That's what I am here." You smile, unashamed at your profession. "I'm one of the secretaries, so if you need anything please tell me, even if it's a cup of coffee, okay?"

You cross your hands across your chest. Hotch hadn't known it back then but this is one of your tells. You're self-conscious underneath all the lightness. 

"I'll show you guys to the conference room, if you like? And I'll track down Mr. Tanner for you." 

You lead them to the conference room. It's crammed with tables, but a good space has been cleared and a big whiteboard has been wheeled against the wall. You offer everybody coffee and he's grateful when each member of the team says no, cutting his schoolboy panic short. 

The door closes, and he relaxes, and Rossi's generous enough to talk under his breath. 

"It could've been worse," Rossi says. 

"You knew she was here?" 

"How could I know that?" Rossi asks. Hotch would give in if his smile weren't so smug. 

"You have history?" Morgan asks. 

"Absolutely not," Hotch says. "We have work to do." 

And they do a lot of work. Hotch is great at compartmentalising, keeping your pretty smile locked away at the back of his head, only thinking of you when he sees you, or hears your tentative knocks at the door twice a day for the few days they're there.

By the time the case is over, he's going insane with memories of the past. You haven't changed in all that time, you're still soft and sweet-natured, still over generous, still beautiful. 

"You're going home now?" you ask from the door. 

Hotch looks up from the account of events he'd been noting. "Pardon?" 

"You're going home? Back to Quantico?" 

"Yeah, bright and early tomorrow morning." He sits back in his seat. "Out of all the places I pictured you, I never considered Virginia Beach." 

"It's very family friendly." 

He stills. You start to laugh, and your laugh has always been so bubbly and contagious to him, it brings back fond memories of you. 

"I don't have a family," you say, "sorry, that's not what I meant to imply. I want a family, of course, but it…hasn't worked out. It will, hopefully. What about you, did you ever?" 

"I did– we had a son, Hailey and I." 

You don't say congratulations though he knows you're happy for him. You lean your face against the doorway. "Does he look like you?" you ask. 

"No." He laughs. He doesn't know why. "He's all Hailey." 

"I bet he's beautiful. She was always so lovely, how is she?" 

"I assume she's fine, but we don't speak very often anymore. We separated." 

Your eyebrows thread together at the starts. "I'm sorry. It's not easy, and it's not fair, but you got a good thing out of it."

"Yeah, we did. Do you want to see a photograph?" 

You don't waste a second. Hotch doesn't doubt that your enthusiasm is sincere. "Yes, please, I'd love to."

Hotch has a lot of photos of Jack. You want to see them all, and your eyes get happier with each one. 

"You're a liar, Hotchner, you said he doesn't look like you. He's a beautiful kid. Wow, he looks so happy." You loll your head mildly to one side. He can smell your perfume. "Are you happy, too? I always meant to reach out, Aaron, and ask how you were but I… don't know. I thought hearing you about you being happy would hurt more than it really did. I'm so glad to see you again." 

Why would it hurt? he thinks desperately. He already knows, of course. He knows the kind of feeling that would make you move 180 miles away from home. He can read just about anyone. He knows how you feel now. 

"I'm glad to see you too," he says. 

"And surprised, I mean, I'm so far away from home, but I guess you guys go everywhere, huh? Seeing you again is like fate." 

He can agree with fate, but far away feels subjective. "It's only a three hour drive." 

"Only!" you repeat, beaming. "You don't think that's far?" 

"It depends on what you're driving too," he says, each word measured. He's careful. 

"I think you're right. You know what I always miss? The Three Dragons, the one closest to our office." 

"That's still there," he says. 

"I would drive three hours for that." 

He's a fool. He's coming on too strong. He's misinterpreting the signs. He tells himself all of this and it doesn't matter at all, he can't control his hand, can't stop himself from covering your smaller palm with his. 

"And here?" he asks. "Are there any nice places to eat nearby?" 

Your eyes lock onto his hand. Your thumb hooks over his hand, and your skin is so warm, your hand pressing closer to his as you draw your gaze to his face. Hotch isn't sure he's ever been looked at the way you're looking at him — your lips press together in a thin line like you're trying to stop from smiling and failing spectacularly. 

"Nothing as nice as the Three Dragons, but I think we can find something," you say softly. 

Hotch is yours until tomorrow morning, and if all goes well, he knows Virginia Beach will be a drive worth making. 

[neverchecking]

NSFW Alphabet- Four

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's pretty good, all things considered! So, I like to write Four as one solid conscious until he splits, so saying that, like he's smart. He knows what he's doing. He's a little disoriented after he cums, but after a moment he's up and on the move. He also has a set routine but it's more because he likes the order he does things. He doesn't mean to, it just happens.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself? Honestly? His biceps. And I will take this to my fucking grave, but I, honest to God, whole-heartedly believe that this man has biceps of fucking iron. Have you seen a blacksmith's build? they have arms. And you know what? So does Four. So, his biceps are his favorite because they are also my favorite.

On his partner? He'll try to save face and say personality but this man screams thigh man. He loves thighs because he's face to face with them. Like adores them with his whole heart. When you sit down and they transform into plump pillows? He's in love. He loves squishing them and moving the flesh around in his grasp, but he fucking loves them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

*Looks around side to side before leaning in* This man, right here? You can try to tell me otherwise, but I won't believe you. Fucking loves cumming inside of you. He knows he's not tall, and he knows he's not the most outwardly intimidating, but holy shit does it give him a rush to know that no one else has the privilege of marking you so intimately. It drives him nutty, especially if you just go on your day like that. Like he can't sit still knowing you're there, pretty legs crossed because if they're not you're going to drip on the seat.

Just the thought has him hard.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Would love to fuck you in a skirt. There I said it. He would love to wear a silky skirt, bend you over the mattress and just destroy you. This man is both the biggest dom and hardest switch imo, but put him in a skirt and there's no question. Just <four in a skirt3

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

None. Zero, zilch, nada. People never took him seriously enough with his height. Plus with smithing and his adventure he never really thought about it. Maybe I'm projecting, but I like to think of Four as a Demisexual (Source: I am a demisexual) so he didn't really have a sex drive until meeting someone he really liked.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. All the way, call him a traditionalist but he loves the eye contact and the fact that his height doesn't matter. Also, maybe, just maybe, he likes the domesticity of it all. He loves the idea of making you his perfect little house spouse. Even if you don't want it <3 Man i forget I'm a yandere blog so often it's not even funny.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can appreciate good joke. Of course, he's not gonna go looking to make one, but if you're visibly stressed, he'll crack a small one. Anything to make you smile, really. If you want to make a joke, he'll humor you of course as well.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very well groomed, one of the best. It's a little lighter than the hair on his head, but exceptionally fine. He keeps it well trimmed and washed. Again, it's not because he's crazy about neatness it mostly just feels better for him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be very romantic, but, honestly, he doesn't have the chance to be as romantic as he wants to be. After being in the forge, he's tired and smells and while he wants to woo you, he just can't. Of course, that won't stop him from treating you like royalty, but there won't be any rose petals or candles.

Side bar, Four absolutely makes you one of those metal flowers. Yk the ones?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Probably a little more common than the rest of the Links, but its mostly because every time he thinks about you, especially if his thoughts wander, he gets hard and he can't get back to his work until his frustrations have been let out. Only reason really, if he had time, he'd rather fuck you in a nice quickie, but unfortunately that isn't realistic.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He's got a thing for bondage. So okay, hear me out, he's a blacksmith right? Who works with metal right? So he probably can make chains right? surely you guys see where i'm going with this right? He likes BDSM purely because he loves seeing you bound in the chains he makes.

I think he's also got a bit of breeding kink. This goes back to part C, but it awakens something in him that's so primal. It just drives him insane and makes his nerves buzz because it's such an intimate way of claiming you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He's not picky. Not in the SLIGHTEST. Y'all have probably fucked in his forge. He's a man on a busy schedule, so he's taking what he can get when he can get it. He'll fuck in the bedroom, on the kitchen counter, on the living room floor, in the forge, behind a tree in the forest, under the rushing waters of a river, he's down for anything.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything. But something about having a significant other that works as well? Like not actual work, no, no he won't allow his most precious jewel to ever risk that, but things like cooking, cleaning, even writing blueprints or something for weapons you've had ideas about and want him to make-- because you aren't allowed to work in the forge it's too dangerous for you're perfect hands. That especially just drives him crazy because having a competent partner is just so attractive to him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sounding. If you don't know what that is, perfect. Don't look it up. If you do, I'm sorry for your loss. He doesn't like the idea of it, wants nothing near there, it's just like the biggest turn off to him. Shudders just thinking about it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Contrary to the other Links I've written, he prefers receiving. Just having his spouse on their knees while he's perfecting some plan or blueprint or polishing something, sucking him off while he works? Goddess, it's his favorite pastime. Just thinking about it has him palming himself until he can get to you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on his mood, but most of the time it's fast and rough. He likes the thrill it gives him and the adrenaline rush. Plus, the fact that it renders you absolutely brain dead and mindless, just a hole for him to use is an added bonus.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves them. Adores them. He does 'em pretty often too because, like I said, they fit into his schedule the easiest. He's one of the only Links with a stable job so he does have a routine and schedule to stick to, meaning Quickies are perfect for him. He gets to remind you of how much he loves you and thinks about you and how much your very aura has intoxicated him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Loves them. So, here's the thing. Four is STILL a Link. He still loves the adventure, the thrill, the adrenaline. So the risks? The one that have him pausing, balls deep with a hand over your mouth to keep you from crying out? Get him so riled up he can't explain it because it just makes him that much more horny. Like, he is humping at you like a dog all while trying to keep himself quiet and you as well.

So yeah, he likes the risk.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Not the most, I'll be fair. Like I said, he's got a job, he's a blue collar man-- or the Hyrule equivalent-- and he's a hard working man. So he doesn't have all the energy in the world, but the energy he does have is put to good use, don't worry. He's a man who can't go for six rounds, but the rounds he does go has you feeling like he did.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Like I said, he likes chains. He's probably got a few spreader bars as well. Things made of metal you know? Maybe a few plugs he fiddled with. So he does have a few. And Four is the man who doesn't view toys as competition, no, no, they are his friends. His companions. His teammates. Everything needed to make you feel good. And that's all that matters to him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn't have time to tease. He'd love to, and on days he has off he spends hours between your legs until you're a sobbing, pleading mess for him, but on the more regular days? Of course he does foreplay, but he doesn't have time for the slow traces of skin or small pinches of flesh.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's a whiner, but he hides it. But if you pull his head out from where he hides it in your shoulder? He's a whimpering mess, crying because you feel so good and at some point he becomes so sex drunk that it's all he can think about. And when that happens he can't help but cry for you <3

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves domesticity. Every part of it and I will fucking go down with this. He loves the idea of having his perfect little house spouse who's willing and waiting for his cock at any given moment. Who cares for the house, cooking and cleaning, while he goes to work to provide for both of them. He loves having a partner with intellect, of course, but having a partner be a house spouse while also putting their brain to good use? Oh he's feral.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Stealing this from Bea so thanks-

4.4 inches. Good sized balls, went over his hair already. Probably has a nice vein running up the underside of it that makes him just shatter when you run your tongue along it. Has him reaching for your hair just to stuff your mouth full.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high but also not all if you know what i mean? Like when he has the time and energy he is all over you, you can't even go to the bathroom without him loudly complaining about how he misses you in his arms. On the other hand, when its been a long day, he likes just letting you cockwarm him like a good little slut <3

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He loves falling asleep with you because it's something so domestic to him (See W). He loves spooning you and burying his face into your hair, or chest, depending if you wanna be big spoon or lil spoon, and just feeling your chest slow as your breathing evens out. It's pure bliss to him and reminds him of why exactly he worships you.

Not that he ever needed a reason.

[spinningwebsandtales]

DMC5 Guys Crushing On A Self-Conscious Half Devil FemReader Headcanons

Requested by @danielle-marie​

(A/N:) This one hit a little closer to home though I am not half devil. 🤣 I am a very self-conscious person and I’m trying to work on myself. Don’t get down on yourselves girlies y’all are made perfectly and who you are for a reason. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. ❤️ Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Dante X FemReader

Dante didn’t believe in love at first sight, until he met you.

You couldn’t figure out why Dante was giving you so much attention.

You never had the confidence in your looks and you honestly didn’t think any guy would ever want to even look your direction.

Especially if they figured out about you being a half blooded devil.

You hid that side of you well, but at times when your temper flares it’s harder to hide it.

One time you lost control causing your fingers to grow into claws and horns to sprout from your head.

Little kids screamed and parents chased you away.

It had been your worst nightmare and you didn’t go back out into public for months.

Now you avoided crowds and tried your best to steer clear of any human interaction.

Then Dante walked into your life and he kept striding past your barriers.

Then it happened, your half devil reappeared as you lost control in front of Dante.

You just knew he would abandon you after the incident but he only grew closer.

“Babe, I’m half devil. You think some claws and horns will drive me away? Buckle in toots you ain’t getting rid of me.”

Vergil X FemReader

Vergil is more aloof than his brother but he can’t deny the crush he has on you, though he doesn’t admit it out loud.

He doesn’t understand why you can’t see yourself the way he sees you.

Of course he still hasn’t admitted how he truly feels about you.

He can sense there’s something different about you, but you’re so good at hiding things that he can’t pinpoint it.

He doesn’t pry either.

You can’t tell people your true heritage. It would send most people packing that you have devil blood running through your veins.

Though you are only half it doesn’t take much for your other features to take over. 

With scaly wings, horns, claws, and fangs that transform every time you feel threatened.

You knew that Vergil out of everyone would understand, but you just can’t accept that side of yourself.

Then that fateful day happened, Vergil sensed a devil near by and it attacked you both.

Your devil blood sensing the danger caused you to transform.

After dispatching it Vergil really saw the part you were afraid of, where your self-conscious side came from and he was floored.

“You do know that I’m part devil too? I don’t like you hiding the side that gives you strength. Be proud of who you are.”

Nero X FemReader

Nero can tell that you are unsure of yourself. You hardly smile or let anyone in.

You keep everyone at arms length. Even him.

He stays up most nights wishing you could see yourself through his eyes, as you are perfect.

He’s the one with problems not you.

So what could you possibly hide from him that would make you feel like you aren’t worth anyone’s time?

He compliments you, but it just makes you retreat further.

You know Nero has seen everything horrible in life, you just can’t be that one thing that makes him say that’s enough and leaves.

You didn’t ask to be part devil. You didn’t ask for the claws that refused to transform back into human hands.

You didn’t ask for the small fangs that never seemed to go away.

You had such a hard time keeping the monster at bay and people could sense the danger whenever you were near.

You couldn’t bring yourself to make friends and then Nero barged in.

He could tell something was different about you and he hated that you never smiled and you always kept yourself covered.

He really hated it when you flinched if he tried to hold your hand.

Then he found out. He hadn’t meant to scare you or find out this way it just happened that way.

You were ashamed and Nero was not going to let you stay that way.

“I’m quarter devil, my dad is the ultimate jerk. But I know exactly how you feel. I once had an arm I thought I had to hide until I learned that it wasn’t that big of a deal. It doesn’t define who you are. I think it’s awesome and I think you’re beautiful just the way you are.”

V X FemReader

V doesn’t understand how you can feel so self-conscious. To him you’re absolutely perfect.

He tells you so as well but you just brush his compliments off.

How could anyone like him like someone that has tainted devil blood flowing through her veins?

You’re really good at hiding the side you don’t want others to see but at times you can lose control.

So far you have kept it well hidden as you don’t really go out in public much.

You don’t want to be known as the freak to anyone else, your horrified by yourself enough.

You don’t want complete strangers to find your devil blood appalling.

And you definitely don’t want V to know, you couldn’t deal with him leaving you just because of who you are.

The claws, scaly skin, and fangs that only seemed to come out when you were scared or angry would make even the toughest person cower.

Then one day V found out.

You had lost your temper and transformed right in front of him.

You waited for the screaming or cursing.

But none ever came.

V took your hand, careful of the sharp nails that had taken over and he smiled gently.

“Don’t think you can scare me with such beauty as this? Don’t hide your true nature from me. It hurts me more that you don’t accept yourself than any other painful wound a man can gain.”

[salty-croissants]

Reader who performs in musicals x Bullfrog, Rayman and Ramon (all separate) please? Thank you! Have a good day/evening/night!

Thank you for the request ! 

This one was really neat and fun to write :D

Hope this turned out okay !

Details : use of gender neutral reader ;

established relationships ; 

no warnings needed 

Bullfrog 💚

When you first told him that you were a musical performer , Bullfrog was absolutely amazed by it … no matter what role you actually play , for him it’s like you’re the most talented person in the whole world . 

< Oh my dear , c'est incroyable ! I can’t wait to get to see you perform one day ! >

< Aw , thanks love , but are you sure that wouldn’t be dangerous for you ? You know , with your job and many people around someone could recognize you and … I wouldn’t want you to get hurt because of me … > 

< I’m going to be careful don’t you worry , I’ll do anything I can to be there : it’s not just any musical if you’re in it mon amour ~ > 

Yeah , Bullfrog really meant what he said : 

you can often spot him hidden somewhere in the room when you’re on stage , staring at you with those loving eyes that never fail to make you blush …

He’s just so cute , and the fact that he would go to such lengths just to be there to support you makes you all giddy inside … as well as a bit worried for his safety , but you try your best not to think about it too much .

When the performance is done and you get to go backstage to your private room to take a moment to breathe and relax , you already know that you only need to count to three before you hear a knock on the door and find a very enthusiastic Bullfrog on the other side …

< Thank you for coming , sweetheart ! So … what did you think ? > 

< I think you did wonderfully , y/n : I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you during your song , c'était si beau ! >

< Really ? I was honestly afraid I didn’t hit some of the high notes right … god , you wouldn’t believe how anxious that made me the second the song ended , and plus - >

Bullfrog can’t help but smile as he listens to you talk , holding your hand while walking back home …

You’re just so passionate , it’s something that makes you even more beautiful in his eyes if that’s even possible . 

Your songs often get stuck in his head , so it’s not rare to hear Bullfrog humming them to himself while showering you with affection when you’re together , but sometimes also during missions :

it helps him to remain calm , reminding himself that he has you by his side and that he has to stay alive to get back to you …

Bullfrog’s life really wouldn’t be the same without you in it . 

Rayman 🧡

One of Rayman’s favorite things to do is just sit and listen to you preparing for your current musical’s role , closing his eyes and focusing on your beautiful voice …

You’re always happy to have him there , especially since if you get easily self conscious about something his help will definitely help .

< Man … this sucks , it’s been days and I still can’t get that part right … the performance is ruined , how am I going to - > 

< Hey , hey … slow down y/n , take a deep breath …

There’s plenty of time before the performance , you just gotta keep trying and most importantly not push yourself too hard . > 

< *sigh* … yeah , you’re right … thanks Ray , sorry about that . >

< You don’t need to apologize honey … here , how about we take a break ? 

You’ve been working on it for hours now , I think you’ve earned it . > 

Even tough the Directors are constantly monitoring him , you can bet that Rayman will do everything he can to be there the day of the performance , and whenever you see him cheering for you among the crowd it always fills you with joy … 

He’s just so sweet , you can’t help but love him even more in those occasions ://) 

Rayman actually has lots of recordings of you singing , that way he can listen to them whenever you’re away and he misses you … 

Oh , and you can be sure that he will gush about you to literally everyone , because they all need to know just how wonderful and talented you are . 

< Ahh , you should’ve seen it … 

The way their eyes were shining while singing on that stage was simply magical !

Isn’t my y/n just amazing ? > 

< Mhm … 

Mister Rayman , can I leave now ? It’s been one whole hour … I’m just a janitor , remember ? > 

Since he does have quite a nice singing voice himself , you and Rayman definitely love to sing duets together , sometimes even dancing in the middle of the living room while the sun sets outside the lounge …

It’s a beautiful , precious moment for the both of you , ones that you will carry in your hearts forever .

Ramon 🖤

Okay , so now that he murdered the Directors and officially became wanted by Eden , Ramon knows that it’s not safe for him to show himself in public anymore … 

However , since you still need to perform in your musicals he can’t help but feel very torn about the whole situation , especially since he’s way more protective of you after all that’s happened . 

< I’m telling you sweetie , I’m going to be just fine ! It’s only a few hours … > 

< But I have to … I need to make sure nobody hurts you . > 

< Ram , I won’t have you risking your life to watch over me . We’ve talked about this . > 

< I can’t lose you , y/n … > 

< You won’t … I promise . 

I’ll be back before you even notice . > 

Remember those recordings of your performances he made when he was still regarded as the Voice of Eden ? 

Well , Ramon definitely listens to them a lot more now to try and keep his head distracted from thinking about what dangers could take you away from him when you’re gone .

It’s not a rare occurrence for you to arrive home and find Ramon asleep with one of the recordings playing in the background , and it’s during those moments that you fully realize that you really are the only thing keeping him together .

Whenever he happens to have a nightmare ( let me tell you , it happens often … this poor man is just so scarred by what he saw and what he did ) , Ramon is really going to appreciate it if you decide to sing him to sleep :

he just holds you tight , all the tension in his body finally leaving him thanks to your voice and your gentle touch caressing his hair …

< Mmm … y/n … > 

< I’m here , darling … I’m right here … >

< I love you so much , y/n … > 

< I love you too Ramon … there , just close your eyes , you should really try to sleep some more . > 

< Mmkay … > 

Sometimes when you’re having a bit of a rough day , Ramon is going surprise you by suddenly hold your hands and start slow dancing with you , singing your favorite duet … 

It’s one of the only moments in which all of his troubles seem so , so far away , leaving just you and him in the comfort of your home , being happy in a place were no one can hurt either of you … not Eden , nor anybody else .