#including the vessel he’s in at the moment

[dogsrot]

the fact that like . . fenrir technically doesn’t exist ??

[olasketches]

the fact that megumi was supposed to be the MC makes me giddy as hell. ITS ALL COMING TOGETHER GUYS

[loverboydotcom]

my beautiful autistic mind is so picky and annoying sometimes because my biggest struggle with writing at the moment is the fact i dont like how the name bobby looks written out but i like how it sounds and also know that is his name it literally cannot be anything else. but every time i look at the letters i'm like.......

[flokali]

Hi!! I am brainrotting and cannot get it out of my mind, so I thought to share. A very simple thought.

Accolyte Zhongli. Very willing to please et cetera. But biting him? Like come on, biting a Dragon? Is it ownership? Is it playful bite? You know, the sudden urge to bite someone (or is it just me?). So biting a very willing Zhongli.

Sobbing. This will haunt me for a while.

Slight NSF_W

Thinking so many thoughts... happy belated valentines day every1 ><

Warnings: NB! Reader, yandere!Zhongli, SAGAU, implied Dom!Reader/Sub!Zhongli, unhealthy relationship dynamics, biting, soft-violence (?), possessive behavior, jealousy, ask to tag!

Dragons in Liyue are known to be loyal, fierce, and elegant; the stories always describe them as powerful beasts who are to be respected, with sincere hearts and wisdom beyond a mere mortal’s understanding.

In a way, such behaviors did translate to your acolyte, Zhongli. He was one of your oldest followers, not just in age but time serving you, over six millenia he has existed and can proudly state he’s worshiped you for most of it. You would think that the years would have mellowed him out, polished up the edges of his devotion, soothe the tempest in his heart into a much milder dribble, and yet – you knew very few of your acolytes who could rival the passion he seemed to hold towards you.

The relationship between you and all of your followers was strange, at least to you — going from a normal person to being worshiped as a God was not an easy process, much less in a world as different from your own as Teyvat was to Earth — however none were perhaps as strange as the relationship between you and Zhongli.

He is always at your side, from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. At first, his insistence on being your attendant had been met with heavy resistance from the others but his stubbornness greatly overpowered their annoyance; no matter what rotation you were in, Zhongli was always by your side.

You knew of his vessel, Morax, the large dragon that he’d used to fake his death, and you knew that “Zhongli” wasn’t his true form – you just hadn’t guessed some traits would have seeped into the other form or maybe it was simply part of his personality.

He was possessive and overprotective over you, it was like an internal struggle between submission and the need to monopolize you was constantly going on in his head, yet he refused to outwardly admit it.

“I am simply concerned for you, Your Grace.” He’d say whenever you’d bring up his overbearing nature, considering that he and the rest viewed you as an all-powerful being, you’d think he’d have more trust in your ability to protect yourself. And yet, whenever he’s allowed, he’ll always attempt to deter you from leaving his side. At some point you realized it was probably for his sake rather than your own, but by then you had grown endeared to the man and decided to allow it anyway.

Even as your most loyal follower who you spent most of your days with, Zhongli had his quirks and habits about him that simply baffled you – no matter how many days you’d spent with the former Archon, there were just things he’d do and say that’d leave you questioning all you knew about him prior.

All you really knew about him before was reduced to what had been revealed in game, from the Traveler’s perspective and the NPC’s who’d speak about him. Meeting him and interacting with him quickly let you know that his personality, at least when directed towards you, was quite different from what you had assumed from your previous observations.

An example of such discrepancies was his obsessive need to please you.

The traditional Liyue clothes you once complimented him on? Most of his wardrobe has changed to include such attires more frequently. The hair accessory you bought him once when you traveled to Fontaine? You don’t think you’ve seen him without it since. That one time you complimented him when he wore warmer tones? It seems his closet has been rid of any other color.

It was unsettling if not a bit cute, who wouldn’t be a little bit flattered to know their opinion held such weight to a man such as Morax; but it was only a matter of time before it all escalated

Somewhere, at some point, your relationship with Zhongli changed – morphing into something more complex than you would have expected. You would soon wonder if he was classified more so as a lover or some sort of concubinus than a mere helper, his role as an attendant seeming more like a guise so he could spend his time with you each day.

Fleeting touches now lasted longer, the feeling of his hot gaze on you burned stronger with every passing moment, it was a natural escalation; kisses now were no longer restrained to the hand, they now landed on your lips, your cheeks, your neck, wandering hands found their home in your waist and the small of your back.

When he told you he loved you, you knew not if he spoke as a devotee or a lover.

It was during a heated make out session that you found out his weakness to being marked and claimed, much to your surprise. He’d been quite insistent on not leaving a single mark on your person, not a hickey or bite, you guessed it must have been a preference but never asked about it either. You decided that, for the time being, you would avoid the topic until it naturally came up - and up did it come.

You had been on top of him, sitting on his lap and caressing his hair as your lips danced with one another’s, his golden eyes were shut tight in pleasure as he let you use his lips and body as you wished. His hands rested on your waist, tightly gripping at your robes and skin as he desperately clung onto your body. Soft whines left his lips periodically, his breathing was quick and you could feel his heart beating where your chests met.

You playfully decided to trail kisses across his face, at first he whined when he felt the loss of your lips on his but he soon fell quiet – other than a few moans and whimpers – as you left open mouthed kisses into his skin and down his neck.

It’s there that, in the heat of the moment, you decide to bite his neck, leaving a small hickey on his flushed skin. His reaction is immediate; his head falls backwards, his whole body heats up and you feel something stiffen below you, his face burns a bright red as a loud moan escapes his lips. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin to a point you are certain it’ll leave a mark, and his heartbeat quickens; pleasure basically radiates off of his body the minute your teeth nib at his neck.

You stop, teeth sunken into his skin and hand tangled in his hair, his reaction so lewd and surprising you become flustered and stop dead in your tracks.

Zhongli, however, only pulls you tighter into his body, using a hand to press your face deeper into his neck, as if urging you to use more force in your bite – timidly you give in and nibble into his flesh, further deepening the imprint of your teeth in his skin. His whole body feels hot to the touch, his mind feels hazy, your soft bites into his skin send shockwaves through him.

You had no idea what you were doing to him, did you? Or else you wouldn’t have been so careless when picking the spot, but it doesn’t matter, in this moment of intense pleasure, the former Archon decides to give into delusion and believe you knew the meaning behind biting a draconic being such as himself — and in the neck of all places as well.

Old traditions dictate that a bite mark, especially in the jugular or neck, was a sign of ownership. It was often that mates would mark each other in the neck with enough force to leave scars, sinking sharp teeth into one another with ironic tenderness. It showed trust and care for the other, both to be marked and leave a mark, as it required vulnerability and care from both parties. It was a deeply intimate act, one that would be reserved to life-long partners and mates, it was a gesture of possessiveness and devotion tinted with love.

If he were to be honest, Zhongli would have thought himself to be the one to mark you instead of the other way around, it’d been something he’d often fantasized at night before your arrival, and yet, as he felt your — significantly duller teeth — bite into him he could feel his admiration and love for you grow as he became yours; even if you may not have known.

He’d always imagined himself on top of you, your naked form beneath him, as he sunk his canines into your flesh until he tasted your holy blood. He’d imagined himself cradling your pleasure stricken body while you moaned his name, a sinful sound coming from a divine being. Instead, it is himself that lays within your grasp, panting in ecstasy as he holds himself back from coming completely undone and showing a depraved side of himself even he did not know of.

If he was honest, he almost wishes you’d draw blood, sink your teeth so deep into his skin it breaks layers of flesh and leaves a deep scar that could never heal – a sign of your favoritism and ownership, one that he could proudly say was unique to him. If only you weren’t so careful with him, so scared of hurting him; he means no offense, but your current form is significantly weaker than his and he’s survived wars most have not heard of; even if you wanted to sink your nails into his skin and carve your name into his body, he thinks his strength and shear devotion to you alone would prove the pain to be nonexistent.

A gasp of your name leaves his parted lips, it’s erotic - the way his pink lips let a symphony of pleasured sounds - a wave of hormones rushing through his body, sending his brain into overdrive.

You look up at him, not having expected such a lewd reaction, but the sight of his half-lidded eyes as they burn into your own sends a hot-buzz down your spine. His cheeks are flushed, his lips bloodied as he bites them, his bare chest is heaving up and down; the expression on his face is orgasmic. His loose hair sticks to his forehead as sweat runs down his temples, clearly your gesture had taken quite an effect on him.

You slowly remove your lips from their spot, about to question his reaction - wondering if you’d perhaps crossed a line, but he stops you with a crooked smile and warm hands against the back of your head.

“It is okay, Your Grace,” he whispers, tongue darting to wet his drying lips, he guides your head back into his neck, “bite me all you want, my neck is yours for the taking.”

You giggle a bit at his eagerness, feeling his hard-on press against your ass. You playfully adjust yourself in his lap, softly nipping at his neck before biting down in a new spot.

“Ha-ah,” he moans once more, you feel him startle beneath you, “don’t be afraid to draw out blood, either… in fact, please, feel free to do so.”

He can only hope you take on the challenge, eager to flaunt your lovely bites to Neuvillette and any poor soul that even so much as thinks of questioning his position in your life.

[lale-txt]

❥ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒? ↳ 𝐰/ 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚, 𝐈𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢, 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢, 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚, 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮, 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨 & 𝐎𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚

a/n: reader is gn! back with my drabbles; i just love trying to convey a very specific mood or scene in 200 words or less, it's SO fun and challenging. i already have longer HQ fics drafted but those really help me getting a grasp of those chars (and i don't have to decide on only one boy because there's so many who have my whole heart heh). i hope you enjoy this boquet of sweets from me to you ♡ some additional thoughts at the end of this because apparently i have PLENTY ok bye

word count: 1.3k

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 scoffs softly. Of course he got you flowers. He would have bought everything inside the damn florist shop if you had enough space for it in your tiny apartment. This bouquet of wildflowers must do for now; it’s so huge, it makes you vanish behind it completely when he shoves it into your hands the second you open the door for him. He can hear you laugh in surprise and that is enough for him. A few minutes later you watch him from where he sat you down on the kitchen counter, rummaging around the cabinets and searching for a vessel that can serve as a vase because the ones you have are way too small for the size of this bouquet. Under his breath he mumbles something about how you stubbornly refuse to let him buy you a house already, one with endless fields of flowers surrounding it; then he wouldn’t have to waste his time searching for a vase big enough and could just kiss you in a sea of petals. You both know that it’s only a matter of time till that happens.

𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 doesn’t fully remember when this tradition started. Years ago, it must have been in high school, when you were down with a cold and he brought you your favorite snacks and a bundle of flowers from the conbini after school. They were nothing special, wrapped in plastic and close to wilting soon, the price tag still on, but he can never forget the ways your eyes lit up when he put them down on your bedside table. Your voice had been so hoarse that day, you barely managed to get a Thank You out, and Iwaizumi didn’t know what else to say either, so he just sat on your bed and held your hand till you dozed off again shortly after, leaving him with all those buzzing feelings inside of his chest. How many flowers has he bought you ever since, week after week? It must have been hundreds. How many times has he kissed you somewhen between bouquet 84 and 931? Countless times. He won’t stop doing either of that in this lifetime.

𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 is overthinking again. One finger rests on your doorbell, the other is nervously fidgeting with the wrapping paper. Should he have read more about the language of flowers before coming here? What if he accidentally picked some that actually say “let’s just be friends” or “I like you only mediocrely” and not “you’re the light and love of my life, and my heart has never been fuller ever since you claimed it as yours, please will you be mine forever–in this life and each one that comes after that, beloved”? His hand clenches around the bouquet and he’s one heartbeat away from turning around on the doorstep and walking back to the flower shop, when you open the door smiling, so bright that Akaashi thinks he must have walked into the burning sun. Your fingers brush over his when you reach for the flowers, and he doesn’t register the words coming out of his mouth at this moment, his mind clouded by the thought of what your future wedding bouquet will look like. He will do some research for that later tonight, after giving you a hundred kisses. 

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 laughs quietly when he opens his mailbox in Animal Crossing. You sent him the Hello Kitty items, including the matching hat and dress for him to wear next time you stream together, paired with a sweet love note that he immediately saves to his favorites. Needless to say that he keeps all of them. Under the thick blanket you (wearing one of his sweaters) rub your cold feet against his, and giggle next to him when you unwrap the flowers he sent you in-game. Lying on top of both of you is your cat named Apple Pie, who purrs and makes biscuits, ensuring neither of you would be able to get up anytime soon. You mentioned once how you liked the in-game flowers better than real ones, because it made you sad to see cut flowers wilt and wither over time and the pixel ones would stay like this forever–just like the two of you, hopefully. Kenma leans down to press a kiss to the side of your neck and wonders briefly how he managed to get so lucky. If he had the magic power to freeze time, he would, but until he levels up he will keep you in his arms like this for a little longer. 

𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 is looking proud of himself when he puts your plate on the counter and nudges it towards you. The three onigiri on it are decorated with tiny edible flowers, and your loud complaints about how they’re too pretty to be eaten make him laugh. So are you, and yet he still gets to devour you night after night. You look so ravishing, taking photos of your food from every possible angle to post them on your food blog later, with your tongue poking out between your lips like it always does when you’re focused. Osamu thinks that out of every person in the whole world, he must be the luckiest of them all because only he gets to call you his. He doesn’t have it in him to tell you to hurry and eat up already, knowing there’s some things you just can’t rush–food, love. The latter he learned from you and your incredible patience, and how you molded his heart into the shape of you with time, with gentle hands and stolen kisses, till he was all yours, only yours. 

𝐁𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 nearly drops the flowers in fist when he fumbles for his keys, his sports bag almost sliding off his shoulders, one shoe untied. It’s messy, but he can’t wait to see you. You’re probably asleep by now, sprawled out on the couch with the remote still in your hand, re-playing his game on repeat. Seeing you cry earlier because you couldn’t go to watch him play in person broke his heart a little; he simply hates seeing you upset like this (and maybe it was also on him for telling you the leftovers in the fridge were probably still good to eat). He doesn’t flick the lights on, just walks straight over to the couch, a big hand brushing strands of hair out of your sleeping face. No feeling in the world can compare to you nuzzling your face into his palm and mumbling out his name drowsily. Bokuto drops the bundle of dandelions he picked on his way home into your nearly empty water glass on the table before carefully scooping you up in his arms, carrying you back to bed. For once he’ll be the big spoon tonight, making sure you sleep safe and sound. 

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 insists on facetiming you, even if it’s 2AM for him and you’re still jetlagged, being back in Japan after visiting him in Argentina. By now you’ve found all the little notes he left in your luggage, hidden between your shirts, souvenirs and in your toiletry bag, but there’s still one surprise left now that you’re back home (even though home is when you’re with him, but whatever). You’re busy complaining about the horrid traffic and your shitty boss and Oikawa barely listens, mesmerized by your face and the sound of your voice, and thinking about the ring he’s gonna put on your finger soon. On his screen you look up when your doorbell rings and the camera gets a little shaky when you rise to your feet, opening the door to the delivery of a bouquet of your favorite flowers, so big you struggle to grab it with one hand. For a bit all Oikawa can see is blossoms in the brightest colors and can only hear your surprised laughter, along with some curses because how dare he be so sweet when he’s an ocean apart where you can’t kiss him right now. Soon, he’ll be there again soon.

❥ 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭…

i REALLY like old money Omi who just wants to spend all his money on you but also kinda enjoys the cramped little apartment you live in. it feels like a bit of a cave and he likes that there's only room for both of you in there

Hajime childhood friends to lovers trope my beloved. how long it must have took you both to sort out your feelings for each other, one boquet at a time

i think Akaashi would write the best love letters

Kenma bullies ugly villagers off his AC island and he's really good at terraforming and will help you out with your island (this is based on me being terrible at terraforming and giving up after ten minutes)

Osamu and you started off as enemies to lovers because you left a bad review about Onigiri Miya once and so he invited you over to prove you wrong, and you fell in love one bite at a time (i really wanna write a SMAU on this but idk if i can pull this off, so if someone wants to grab this idea let me know so i can kiss you)

LITTLE SPOON BOKUTO AGENDA 🗣️ listen just imagine snuggling against this broad back, kissing the back of his neck, his butt wiggling as he gets comfy...

Oikawa idk what to say. i love him dearly but he feels the hardest to write to me

[bamsara]

I dont know if it was intentional but I love that Narinder when he sees Lamb throwing up he turns gentle and pushes their wool and ears back so they dont get stained with vomit and for some reason it reminded me of how when Nari was throwing up too after the nightmare he had when they were on route to fight Leshy, Lambert helped him with camellias for the nausea.

Ahh, parallels. I think.

IM SO GLAD YOU POINTED THAT OUT allow me to ramble for just a moment.

Narinder was trapped in the Afterlife for over 1000 years, with little social skills and plagued by wishing for vengeance and his only company being two kittens who become disciples under his rule. He has terrible social skills, if not lacking them entirely.

(I would argue that Aym and Baal also have horrific nonexistent social skills, so those three cat's can't really help each other communicate properly to anyone else outside themselves.)

It can be argued that since The One Who Waits had other vessels to pass time and try to kill /annoy his siblings before the prophesized Lamb arrival, that he would have developed them a little bit more, but I would argue that the power balance would have been oodles more severe since the vessels weren't the promised one. He didn't need them, so if they no longer were of service or disobeyed him, he got rid of them. Whether just sending them out or killing them, any how.

Lamb, however, knows they are the last Lamb, the prophesized liberator of The One Who Waits, and therefore his only option. They knew that they were his only reasonable way out of there (whether they asked for it or not) so they were oodles more comfortable than how a professional relationship would have been.

So they asked questions, bothered him, played and ran around him. Complained and vented to him. Yapped and yapped. What is he gonna do? Kill them? Find a new vessel? He can't. "You're as trapped into this prophecy as much as I am, so let's be friends"

Example parts from Chapter 3:

The power balance equalizes because Lamb did not see his presence a God, but rather a fellow prisoner and victim of fate. Rude and demanding, but in the same chains as they were. 'My lord' was simply formalities at first.

This puts Narinder / The One Who Waits in social situations he hasn't been in (or hardly been in) in over a thousand years, and frankly, he had no idea how to navigate them:

Example from Chapter 5:

The God of Death has not needed to comfort or 'be there' for someone in a long, long time. The Lamb's presence is what forces him to try, even if his first attempt aren't perfect. So in that same chapter, he'll ask them a question to distract them. Conversation. Like how they do it.

While I won't post a screenshot of everytime this happens in written format (not including the dreams/memories/flashbacks that haven't been posted yet)-

The One Who Waits is pushed outside of his bubble when it comes to socializing in a way that isn't just 'God-to-Lowly-Vessal' format. He has to talk to them like a person, because he's being talked to like a person, not a god on a pedestal.

Obviously after the final battle and betrayal (to both of them, otherwise known as the Grand Miscommunication) this means nothing for a while as tempers are still high and feelings are hurt. But overtime, this returns, and can show in small ways (ways that may not seem like comfort but is certainly an attempt) like just in Chapter 18:

Trying to bring them an 'offering' (breakfast) mirroring other times the Lamb has done the same for him:

Crudely offering to replace something they are upset at losing/later offering reassurance abet in a curt way:

And what you mentioned: earlier when the Lamb is throwing up, narration shows they're having trouble with keeping their wool, cloak, bell, ect all back at the same time. He can see that. He has a mental boiling pot explosion over the fact that helping them is even a want that he has after the denial crisis he's experiencing where the only answer a minute ago seemed like he needed to kill them, and he chose comfort.

It is intentional. Narinder is learning how to show care, and allowing himself to show care. Slowly, and not perfect, but learning.

[princessbrunette]

when sarah and john b had decided they wanted to recruit you to join their relationship, there were a few subtle steps they had planned to take.

𐙚₊˚⊹♡

they saw your potential. they knew perhaps you weren’t the most overtly sexual in nature, but they also knew they could change that. sex was like cake, you could never just eat one spoonful of it. all they had to do, was pique your interest — not just in sex, but in sex with them specifically.

baby steps. you ask sarah to send her the videos she took of you guys from the party the night before, and she ‘accidentally’ includes a video of her and john b fucking she’d taken on her phone the same day. of course she acted bashful, apologising profusely for the mistake and acting incredibly grateful when you’d told her there was no problem and that you’d delete it.

‘yk i wouldn’t even really care if you watched it tbh. i trust you. its only me and john b anyway… 🤷🏼‍♀️💕’

— she’d text you after a moments passed. curiosity of course got the better of you, a shaky, clammy finger pressing the play button as you nervously bite your nail, glancing at the door and turning the volume way down as precaution as if someone were to catch you. the focus seemed to be on sarah, grinding her hips to ride the brunette boy, soft tits bouncing as he lazily smacks her ass and encourages her to keep riding. she seemed to be putting in the work, john b merely used as a vessel for pleasure, a dildo with a voice box— and something about that had you shamefully heating up. sure, your knowledge on sex was fairly limited — but what you did know through movies and tv shows was that guys were usually too prideful to let the girl do the work, yet therefore caring less for her pleasure. the two of them seemed… open. different.

the text of apparent permission sarah had sent you only made you feel the slightest bit less guilty when you snuck your hand down the waistband of your panties and humped clumsily at your palm as you hit replay.

the blonde cameron had facetimed you suddenly and out of the blue seven minutes later. you yanked your hand out your pants like there’d be a way for her to see you before you’d accepted the call and you swallow thickly, brain too frazzled to think before hitting the green button. she was smiling, laying on her bed in that white tank top that hugged her tits, the same tits from the video and accentuated her golden, barbie tan. you try and be normal about it. she’s just your friend after all.

“hey, what are you doing right now?”

you blink at her, the way she’s smiling at you — before checking yourself out in the small box in the corner. you look all heated and askew, chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths. fuck.

you told her you were watching a movie and then excused yourself not even two minutes later, overcome with embarrassment and the feeling of being caught. sarah rolls over once the call ends, smirking to john b who was reclined on her bed with a hand behind his head, scrolling through his own phone.

“she was totally getting herself off.” she purs matter-of-factly. the brunette boys eyes light up a little as he glances over, brows shifting upwards.

“yeah? how’d you know?”

“she had it written all over her face.”

the two of them got greedy, with the whole introducing you to the idea of being chronically horny thing. without even really speaking about it, they figured the more they normalised this kind of behaviour in the group dynamic, the more likely you were to feel comfortable enough to let them hit. jj maybank was sexual in nature to the knowledge of anyone who had the pleasure of having a conversation with him longer than five minutes. he was sure to make it easy and perhaps bridge the gap, they just needed their in.

by that point, you’d started to catch on anyway.

the four of you sit in a small uneven circle on the floor of the chateau, drinking on a friday night. at first you’re a little confused — you were so sure sarah had been hinting at something with you, herself and john b for a while now — but as you sat beside jj on the floor, his arm rested casually behind you, rubbing casual circles on your waist you perhaps started to question whether or not you’d made that up, and really they were just trying to be friendly so they could set you up with their friend.

as soon as the words ‘truth or dare’ leave john b’s mouth with a knowing, yet trusting and warm grin — you knew it was bound to take a turn. with this group, it always did. everything was about sex, whether you were doing it or talking about it or pretending to do it infront of eachother, it was some kind of secret obsession that you could feel yourself feeding into without knowing. a lamb being brought in to be sacrificed, a group of secretly perverted individuals itching to get your sweet, cranberry blood on their hands.

sarah speaks your name when you foolishly pick dare, worried if you had picked truth they’d make you recount all the things you’d hadn’t done. she leans across the circle to you on her hands and knees so her face is right in front of yours, breath in your face, ass in john b’s.

“i want you… to show me how you’d ride a dick.”

“what?”

she pushes back, reaching behind her on the couch and fetching the throw pillow, placing it in the centre of the circle with a mischievous grin. the pillow it long, firm and rectangular — the comfiest of its kind to nap on during the day whilst the group discuss whatever mishap they were planning on getting into that week.

“aw now we’re talkin’” jj gets comfortable, sitting back a little with a jokey grin. nothing about their tone was out of the ordinary, which what made you feel so comfortable.

“i don’t understand?” you smile, tilting your head like a lost puppy which only made you appear more delicious as their prey.

“straddle the pillow… and show us what you’d do if you were to ride an actual, real dick.” sarah explains kindly, even pulling your hand so you would shuffle forward on your knees to the centre of the small circle.

“look, we know you haven’t done that before— no shame in it,” john b shrugs one shoulder understandingly with an air of casualness which calmed you. “but a dares a dare and hey, maybe you could learn something right now.”

“i been told i’mma pretty good teacher too, so—” jj starts casually in his amused drawl, but is cut short pretty quickly by the sarah snapping her head towards him, her tone more curt and snappy.

“jj.” she scolds quickly and he shuts up, but as quickly as she changed her tone, she was back to smiling back at you encouragingly. she didn’t want jj to take it too far with the pervy jokes and send you running. their plan was perfectly crafted, and they didn’t need him ruining it. john b’s eyes linger on the blonde. nothing malicious about it, perhaps a warning though — because jj presses his lips together and moves his glance back to you with a thick swallow.

all in this time, you had decided to take another long swig of your drink before straddling the pillow. the group cheer, the fun and jokey atmosphere back in full swing as you cover your face, giggling into your hands.

your skirt stretches over your upper thighs at the position, and you shuffle — ensuring you’re sat comfortable on the throw cushion. perhaps the alcohol had lowered your guard, because without much thought — you wince, the material catching over your clit. you were sensitive, assumably from ovulation and as you try to get into a comfortable position, your face falls, realising you may be too sensitive to partake.

“uhm,” you clear your throat as the playful jeering dies down.

“go ahead. fulfil your dare.” sarah chuckles, leaning back against the couch behind her.

“i can’t.” you whisper, smile slipping off your face. the couples hearts drop a few millimetres in their chest, thinking perhaps they’d made you uncomfortable and soiled the whole thing. the blonde girls eyebrows furrow, leaning forward and scooching to sit directly infront of you.

“why? are you okay? i’m— i’m sorry—”

“no i’m okay,” you let out an airy laugh that relieves everyone. “maybe i’m just drunk but i’m a little sensitive… don’t think i can sit n’hump this pillow without…” you trail off, your shame sending heat to your cheeks and behind your ears. john b raises his eyebrows slowly in expectation.

“without…?”

you clench your thighs around the pillow, mortified, looking down at it before back up at him with puppy dog eyes and your teeth tucked over your bottom lip all sheepish. made him wanna finger you until you cried.

luckily, sarah’s face lights up with slow realisation, mouth forming an ‘o’ and eyes widening.

“without cumming?” she cooes before swivelling around to look at both boys, laughing in adoration. “aww, you’re sensitive! i didn’t even… know that was a thing!” she beams, and the boys follow, teeth glinting in the low light like hungry hyenas in a cave.

you loosen up a little, shoulders visibly relaxing and you giggle. “yeah… s’just quite a… firm pillow. pressing me in all types of places.” you shrug, girlishly.

“are you seeeeeeriously tellin’ me, that you can’t move back and forth just a little?” jj chuckles, dumbfounded from behind you and you peer shyly over your shoulder with a humble shrug. you wasn’t sure if they were to be making fun of you, but for some odd reason — based off vibes alone, your sensitivity felt like something to be proud of amongst the group. jj licks his lips.

when you turn back, sarah’s in your face again, her warm hands on your knees. she seems comfortable, so you relax into her touch. you notice john b watching the interaction before locking eyes with you and sipping out his beer bottle.

“okay well, a dares a dare, but if you really need someone to help you out…” she giggles, hands sliding up to your hips before she begins to forcefully tug you back and forth — leaving you no choice but to let her make you hump this pillow infront of everyone.

your hands fly to her shoulders to stabilise yourself, sucking in a shaky and unsure gasp as the seams in the fabric repeatedly catch over your clit through your thin panties. the music playing out the speaker seems to get louder, or maybe the blood is just pumping in your ears as the boys let out little encouraging cheers as they chuckle and continue to drink.

sarah tilts her head, hot breath on your jaw as she lowers her voice to something quiet and seductive for just you to hear, her hands now grabbing handfuls of your ass to pull you along. “there you go, keep riding it. just like me in that video, right?” she croons, and your brows furrow — unable to stop the pornographic moan from leaving you.

embarrassed at the delighted reactions, you hide your face in sarah’s neck, hot and disorientated from the pleasure, hearing her amused chuckle close up. “its just us, nothing at all to be embarrassed about.” she shrugs against you. “can’t run from the dare, sweetie. jj, you wanna come up behind her and give her a hand?” she asks, and before you can lift your head — her hands have slid up your top, squeezing at your tits.

your hips aren’t left alone for long though, as jj straddles the long pillow right behind you and grips your hips, tugging them back and forth with a boyish roughness that had the fabric scraping against you in a new way. you whimper uncontrollably, feeling the blondes stiff crotch thumping against your backside each time he yanked you back.

“yeah-he-heahh, that’s the stuff. don’t tell me i never do anythin’ for ya babydoll. teachin’ you the valuable lesson of gettin’ off right now.” he drawls in your ear, his body heat making your back arch.

amidst this, john b carries the same cool and collected energy. he leans against the couch as he keeps his eyes on yours, taking another sip of his beer before reaching out and taking your hand in his to gently soothe over your knuckles when you announce in a panic that they were going to make you cum.

“thaaaats it,” he hums, voice bassy and delicious enough to make you hold onto every word, thighs clenching painfully. “riiiiide it out.”

something about his nonchalance made you believe it was perhaps his idea, and not sarah’s like you previously believed.

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

James minded his own business under the sun on the private beach within the resort perimeter when a fit older daddy whistled at him. Being the flirty young stud and noticing the bling on that fit daddy's body, he grinned back at the older guy before approaching him. That turned out to be the biggest mistake that cost James his life as the older guy eyes suddenly turned pitch black and his warm smile turned into a devious grin.

Already within grasp of the older guy, James found himself trapped in his place as the older guy grabbed both of his shoulder as he grinned

"It's about time to shed this old skin and start again,"

That's when pitch black smokes emanated from his ear, nose and between the gritted teeth of that older man and started its infiltration into James. The young stud unable to scream for help as time seemingly froze during the moment and before long, the smokes entered his body through all the opened orifices, including his navel and ass crack that slightly revealed due to his skimpy swimwear.

As the final wisps of the pitch black smoke settled into James' body, the devious smile seen before in the older guy now copied to perfection by James.

The older guy seemed confused and at lost, but upon making eye-contact with James pitch black eyes, the older guys pupil dilated and he started speaking monotonously

"Ready to be in service of you, Master,"

James just grinned widely as his eyes turned back to its original hazel color. He then dismissed the old guy to return to his room and James will swing by later to pay the older daddy a visit.

The sun is blazing and James already spent quite some times on the beach anyway, so he walked into the shower area to give his new vessel a thorough inspection.

The shower session was sensual to say the least, as the smoke seduced James body and pushed it to its limit by exiting and entering his body all shower long. The real soul of James can only scream and moan everytime he managed to wrestle control of his body even if only temporarily. Eventually, as he neared orgasm, the black smoke not only entered James body, but also managed to attach and penetrate itself to James actual soul, corrupting the young stud even further as the black smokes now take on the form of James, even in astral level. That is the final push that resulted on whatever humane about James released out with the geyser of sticky white mess the dick released all over the shower stall, inviting delightful chuckles from the new and sole owner of James Dalton physique.

As he left the shower, he grabbed the clothes James brought along. He already put on James shorts as he checked his body in the mirror.

The musculature, the glistening sweat, that irresistible charming face, he's a complete manipulator ready to wreck havoc for women and men alike. But he needs to really scream his sluttiness from the get go, so he closed his eyes and focused his power a bit. As smokes coming out from his body as if he's a fire fuming out smokes, his hair color seemingly bleached on its own and not even a minute later, he's now blonde and looking straight like a lusty sex deviants

Now, he's ready to live life to the fullest, making sure to destroy all humans he decided to be deserving of his corruptive love and subsequent control over them.

[grunckle]

Qualia and Ascension in Rain World

(To clarify I'm mostly talking about base-game lore and not including Downpour, but honestly most of these things can transfer over)

Qualia

One thing that’s relatively hidden in Rain World’s text and subtext is the concept of qualia. Qualia is described as being, “sensory experiences that have distinctive subjective qualities but lack any meaning or external reference to the objects or events that cause them.” It’s a personal sensory experience that cannot be comprehended by another person other than the individual themself, and are often hard to convey via language.

Qualia is a reoccurring motif in Rain World, but what’s more important is the way in which it’s conveyed to the player. The picture that’s painted is that of a world or civilization that placed a great importance on the individuals’ experience, and it’s shown through pearls or environmental details.

Here are some examples of qualia appearing in the text through pearls.

“It's qualia, or a moment - a very short one. Someone is holding a black stone, and twisting it slightly as they drag their finger across the rough surface. The entire sequence is shorter than a heartbeat, but the resolution is extraordinary.”

“A memory... but not really visual, or even concrete, in its character. It reminds of the feeling of a warm wind, but not the physical feeling but the... inner feeling. I don't think it has much utility unless you are doing some very fringe Regeneraist research.”

“This one... is authored by Five Pebbles, when he was young. There has been an attempt to scramble the data, but it's sloppily done, and most is still somewhat legible. It's written in internal language, or thoughts, so it is hard for me to translate so you would understand.”

But the most prominent examples of qualia and it’s importance in this world are the Memory Crypts and possibly ancient naming conventions. The deep purple pearl (shortened) found in Shaded Citadel states,

“In this vessel is the living memories of Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel, of the House of Braids (…) Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel nobly decided to ascend in the beginning of 1514.008, after graciously donating all (ALL!) earthly possessions to the local Iterator project (Unparalleled Innocence), and left these memories to be cherished by the carnal plane. The assorted memories and qualia include:”

Ancients likely mutated their own neural tissue into the cabinet beasts we see in Shaded, which were used to store their memories and qualia before ascension. Even james said once "how 5 pebs got the rot is a good hint here" in response to someone asking how cabinet beasts work, and how they're made.

Adding on to this, ancient (and iterator) naming conventions seem to be built off of the concept of qualia, with them focusing on individual images or experiences.

Nineteen Spades, Endless Reflections

Droplets upon Five Large Droplets

Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets

Looks to the Moon

Generally, this all points to a world focused on the expression and preservation of the individual experience. You could even consider some of the echo dialogue as more evidence for this running motif, but I already have too many quotes lol.

Ascension

So now time to talk about my interpretation of ascension. In short, you turn into a worm, but I should probably explain more than that.

So its been surfacing on rw-tumblr that the light in the end of the game is called the egg in files. Although file names shouldn't be taken as fact or canon, it is pretty obvious given the birth imagery.

But something a little lesser known is what happens to the worm that takes us down to the void-sea depths. Void worms normally have a bright glowing effect, on their body, which is present for ours as well. But after it unhooks us, it swims down, and when it passes us on it's way back that glowing effect is gone.

To be honest, I don't really think this can be interpreted in many ways, but the most obvious one and the one I personally subscribe to is that the worm laid the egg. Biology and spirituality really aren't that different in Rain World, it's implied that karma is stored in the brain through Five Pebbles's slideshow. Adding on to that, we see voidspawn after eating an iterator neuron. One's spiritual state is innately tied to their mental state, and that dictates what and what they can't perceive.

And for that reason I decide to take a more biology leaning approach to what happens in the ending. At face value, we are fertilizing the egg of a void worm to be reborn into a voidspawn.

Not only do void spawn and void worms have multiple characteristics in common, (worm like bodies, tendrils/tentacles, glowing heads, void spawn look microbial and void worms are likely some of the oldest "life" in game)

but voidspawn are seen inside egg-like coverings and share the same egg light seen in the end of the game, confirmed to be the same thing by Videocult in a livestream they did.

I believe that all this points to ascension being re-birth into a voidspawn, which eventually undergoes metamorphose into a worm. Higher-dimensional beings, who manifest and give birth to a new world.

So how does this tie in with qualia? Another thing you might know is that the area in which void spawn are most plentiful is Shaded Citadel and areas in Shoreline near Shaded. And shaded is absolutely packed with Cabinet Beasts, even outside Memory Crypts. I believe these qualia-storing creatures are what manifest voidspawn.

From what we see in ascension, it still looks physical and largely based around the real world. Hunter still has his scars and see's an iterator, survivor sees the slug tree in a more mystical and formless state, and monk sees survivor frankly just looking like a normal slugcat. I think that ascension is a product of qualia. We transcend our earthly knowledge via the egg, and our own qualia is used to give birth to a new world. This is why voidspawn appear most in Shaded Citadel.

Now I won't be getting into Void-Worm theories too much here, I'm mostly focused on ascension but I can't ignore the Gnosticism parallels. For those who don't know, Void Worms heavily resemble the Yaldaboath from Gnosticism, along with sharing some similar celestial motifs.

and running with that some people theorize that, like the Yaldabaoth, void worms are responsible for manifesting the material world. Ascension seems to be a mix of the concepts of Gnosis and Nirvana, but I believe it might lean more on Gnosis.

From my limited knowledge, Gnosis is a few things, some of which being a state achieved from experiences or intuitions, and an essential part to salvation is personal knowledge. While researching a bit, I came across this text by Peter Wilberg called "From NEW AGE to NEW GNOSIS" which brings up some comparisons between Gnosticism and qualia as well.

"Gnosis is subjective knowledge of an inner universe made up not of matter, energy, space or time but of countless qualitative spheres or ‘planes’ of awareness – a knowledge obtained directly through inter- subjective resonance. It is the subjective science of this inner universe."

One thing though that has been brought up when discussing this is how this can be consolidated with the tone of the ending. It is pretty un-ambiguously happy, but if we're going with the Void worm Yaldaboath theory then that would put a bit of a sour twist on it right?

I agreed with these for some time, but now I actually think it ties in perfectly with Rain World's core themes as stated by the devs, "overcoming differences and finding empathy." I don't think the void worms are "evil" or malevolent, but I think they (and subsequently us after ascending) play a key role in demonstrating this theme.

By manifesting the physical world, we allow these souls to experience life and develop their own qualia so one day they can ascend themselves. We are shown compassion, and pass it forward.

[asdfghjklmals]

SEALED & DELIVERED✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, angst. hurt and NO comfort. WORD COUNT: 4.5k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. established couple. adoptedkiddo! megumi x fem guardian!oc.

SYNOPSIS: after satoru gets sealed in the prison realm, megumi realizes that he has to be the one to tell oc gojo girlfriend the bad news—includes child megumi flashback story. AUTHOR'S NOTE: the awkward moment where this doesn't end with fluff... this fic just focuses on satoru getting sealed and megumi's relationship with oc gojo girlfriend. sorry about the ending. i was starting to word vomit and run out of ideas. there will definitely be a continuation about the 19 days satoru was sealed away though. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions, please do!

intro

"sweetheart, we need to talk."

you looked up from your pile of paperwork while satoru sat down in the chair in front of you. he planted his elbows on your glass desk and leaned over, a troubled look on his handsome face. you could tell from behind his black blindfold that something was really bothering him.

"what did i do, gojo-sensei? am i in trouble?" you teased.

the white haired sorcerer dramatically clutched at his chest, "you know i love it when you call me that. don't distract me."

"yes, i know babe." you giggled, "what's wrong? what's going on in that big, beautiful head of yours?"

satoru pouted at you, he was going to say 'my head isn't big!' like he always did, but he decided to save that bickering for later.

"with sukuna's vessel showing up... i just don't have a good feeling about all the things going on." satoru explained, "so... i want to create some contingency plans if anything were to happen to me."

you frowned at the statement 'if anything were to happen to me'. you didn't even want to think of a possibility of anything happening to the love of your life.

"—and why would anything to happen to my man?"

satoru leaned back into the leather chair and crossed his legs, ignoring your question. "you have to promise me that you'll tell megumi about his father. the zen'nin clan will make megumi the head if i'm deemed mentally incapacitated or if i die. some deal his dad had with naobito, i guess.”

you shut your eyes and slammed your silver pen on top of the stack of paperwork you were filling out, "fine... i promise, but none of that is going to happ—"

"i'm not finished, sweetheart." satoru interrupted, "i need you to get yuta back to japan as soon as possible."

yuta was currently training in africa with miguel. satoru always mentioned how strong yuta was becoming after each visit and how the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers could rival himself. you and satoru depended on yuta quite a bit nowadays. (read ‘the cursed child: yuta okkotsu’ here)

you glared at your blue eyed lover sitting across from you, "anything else, mr. gojo?"

"can you promise to wait for me to come home if anything happens?" satoru asked with earnesty. it almost sounded like he was begging you.

present time: oc gojo girlfriend’s office

“you’re going to be late if you want to meet everyone at shibuya station on time.” you patted satoru on the chest, pushing him away from you.

“—just one more kiss.” he begged.

satoru was so needy tonight. you thought to yourself, 'what was up with him?'

you kissed him again, but he refused to let go of your body. he held you tightly. you furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, “you have that look on your face.”

“i just have a bad feeling about tonight.” he mumbled to himself. you wished you could read what was going on in that crazy mind of his.

your heart dropped, frowning at his eery statement. “promise me you’ll be careful?”

“i’m always careful.” satoru stated confidently.

now that someone he loved was waiting for him to come home, he always took into consideration his safety so that he could make it back to you unscathed. he knew you would never forgive him if anything happened to him and if he left you alone. he promised to protect you. (read ‘the honored one’ here)

you held out your pinky as satoru intertwined his with yours. instead of kissing his thumb to seal the deal, he leaned over to kiss you again fervently, muffling whatever you were about to say.

you groaned once his lips left yours, whispering breathlessly, “do you really have to go?”

“i’m the strongest… so yeah.” he sighed, “remember, if anything happens to me, you have take care of my students.”

“can you not say stuff like that?” you hit his chest as he continued to hold you. “why are you talking like you aren’t going to be coming back home to me?”

“i’m just saying, babe.” satoru sighed again as he booped you on your nose, “you have to be strong for me.”

but what if you didn’t want to be strong? what if you selfishly didn’t want satoru to go to shibuya? what if something happens to him and he doesn’t come home to you? what if he leaves you all alone?

satoru finally let go of you as you stood in the middle of your office at jujutsu high. you shook your head to steer away your selfish thoughts.

“i love you, satoru,” you called out to him before he turned to leave your office, “remember your promise.”

he gave you his signature grin before sneaking back over to you to give you one last kiss. “i know. i’ll remember. i love you, (y/n). remember your promises too.”

"yuta is on his way home..." you reported, "and i'll tell megumi about his father."

satoru frowned at you, "you're forgetting something else."

"—and yes, i'll wait for you to come home." you stated confidently.

for better or for worse, right? it’s been 10 years that you and satoru have been together. you were pretty sure you were a patient person. you could wait for him forever if that’s what it took.

"that's my girl." satoru smirked at you before leaving your office, clasping his hands to teleport to shibuya.

***************************

october 31st. shibuya. 8:31pm. satoru gojo arrives.

“good night, satoru gojo. let us meet again in the new world.” kenjaku said smugly. he had just sealed the world’s strongest sorcerer, adamant that nothing would get in his way now.

satoru scoffed at the ridiculous sight in front of him, “yeah, maybe it’s good night for me, but you need to wake up, suguru. how are you gonna let yourself get used like that?”

kenjaku felt resistance in the body that he took over. hands that belonged to the body of suguru geto attempted to grab his throat.

he laughed in amusement, “well, this is the first time that has happened.”

he suppressed that very resistance with his cursed energy again.

satoru watched and reluctantly listened as kenjaku and mahito had a conversation discussing souls and techniques. he was getting impatient.

“can you just get this over with?” satoru grumbled, “you two aren’t the most pleasing things to look at. i definitely didn't want you two being the last thing i see before getting taken by my own will.”

kenjaku laughed at the sorcerer who was on his knees, arms shackled behind his back, unable to do anything to free himself from the hold of the prison realm. he looked so weak.

“i think i’m enjoying this view, but you’re right. i can’t risk anything happening, so goodnight.” he took one last look at satoru and smirked.

“close gate.”

“we can’t use the prison realm anymore right?” mahito asked curiously.

kenjaku nodded his head, “right. unless the person who's trapped takes their own life inside the prison realm, we can only use it on one occupant at a time.”

inside the prison realm, satoru kissed his the back of his teeth, annoyed but somewhat impressed by this cursed object. “looks like time doesn’t pass here.”

he sat on top of a pile of skeleton heads, repeatedly flicking his blindfold off of his forehead, “damn it. i really messed up this time… (y/n)’s gonna kill me after i promised her i’d be careful.” satoru muttered with a grim smile.

“it’ll be okay. i have faith in everyone...”

***************************

“satoru gojo has been sealed.” nanami announced grimly.

megumi looked at the 7:3 sorcerer in disbelief. “sealed? what do you mean sealed?”

“change of plans,” nanami said as he started walking towards shibuya station, “we need to meet up with itadori. if the sealing is true, it’s over for us. we don’t stand a chance without gojo.”

megumi felt as if his world was spiraling. how could his all-knowing, crazy strong sensei get sealed? did (y/n)-sensei know about gojo-sensei’s sealing? no, (y/n)-sensei couldn’t have known. (y/n)-sensei was probably with shoko at the relief area since you two could heal injured sorcerers.

megumi knew that the school didn’t like to use you offensively because of the damage you could inflict on the city with your cursed technique. no one wanted to fill out that damages report. instead, you were their trump card, their last resort. gojo-sensei was usually the go-to special grade sorcerer if the school ever needed something to be taken care of swiftly.

“i have to tell (y/n)-sensei.” megumi mumbled out loud.

nanami pursed his lips, “if you tell her, there’s no telling what she’ll do. if she finds out that gojo was sealed, she might flood all of shibuya.”

“but she deserves to know.”

megumi took out his cell phone. his fingers were trembling as he sifted through his contacts to find your name. his heart was racing at the thought of having to tell you bad news. he hated disappointing you and he definitely didn't want to worry you. but if it had anything to do with gojo-sensei, you had to know.

this moment reminded him of the time he called you from the principal’s office when he got in trouble for fighting at school.

flashback

'i am so grounded,' 7 year old megumi fushiguro thought to himself, '(y/n) is going to take away my new books for sure. maybe i should call gojo-sensei instead.'

you were the maternal figure in megumi’s life since you and gojo-sensei had taken him and tsumiki in. gojo-sensei let you make all the important decisions regarding the kids. you were the one that always had to have the disciplinary conversations with the two fushiguros. gojo-sensei didn’t like to play the bad guy, he was the type to sneak treats to him and tsumiki after you scolded them.

“well, megumi. are you going to call (y/n) or satoru?” the vice principal of the school, mrs. akita asked him.

megumi sighed, “i guess i’ll call (y/n)…”

he knew that if he called gojo-sensei, the blindfolded idiot would just tell you what happened anyways and he would still end up having to tell you what he did himself. so he might as well spare himself the hard conversation later.

he grabbed the phone from mrs. akita’s desk and took a deep breath before dialing your phone number. his heart was racing. he knew he was going to disappoint you, and he hated that feeling.

you picked up the phone, your bright laughter gave megumi the shivers, “hello?”

“uh—(y/n)?”

your tone immediately became serious, “megumi, are you okay?”

"uh, yeah. i'm okay. i got in trouble at school today." he admitted. he closed his eyes, waiting for you to start lecturing him.

he could hear that you were walking with someone. you were probably on a mission.

"what?! megumi... what happened?" you asked, concern in your tone.

"i, uh, got in a fight. mrs. akita said that i'm getting suspended for two days." he made eye contact with the vice principal in front of him as she sat with her arms folded. this was not megumi's first rodeo.

"megumi... we had this conversation about fighting at school..." you sighed.

yes, you were disappointed, but megumi was your baby. how could you stay mad at the cute little 7 year old boy with the same green eyes as you?

"i know, i'm sorry, (y/n)."

"i'm sorry, megumi. i can't come pick you up today because i'm on a mission. satoru will be there soon, okay?" you felt guilty. you knew the last person he wanted to see was satoru after getting suspended. satoru would never let him live it down.

"okay. i'll wait for gojo-sens—wait, can you send nanami to pick me up instead?"

you laughed at his question, "nanami is actually on a mission with me right now.. sorry kiddo. i'll see you at home later, okay?"

megumi grumbled, "okay..."

megumi hung up the phone and turned around to sit back in the office chair. mrs. akita was filling out the paperwork on his suspension.

***************************

once you hung up the phone, you sighed and turned to nanami. "sorry, nanami. megumi got in trouble at school today."

the 7:3 sorcerer stopped walking and turned to you, your troubled face concerned him, "do you need to call gojo?"

"yeah, he needs to pick up megumi from school. he got suspended for fighting." you groaned.

"being a mother must be hard." nanami teased as he patted your back in reassurance.

you laughed, "having a boy is hard. tsumiki is an angel. god forbid my future children have megumi's temperament."

"you better hope your future child isn't satoru's mini-me." nanami teased.

you grinned at him and joked lightly, "who says i'm having more kids with satoru? he already gave me two to take care of."

you and nanami knew that satoru would pout all day if he heard that joke. you giggled before dialing satoru's phone number as you both took a quick break on a park bench.

"hey babe, you okay? do i need to come help?" satoru asked as he picked up your phone call on the first ring. he never let you go to voicemail in your 2 years of dating.

"no, satoru. we're fine. but i need you to pick megumi up from school. he got suspended today."

"you don't say?" satoru laughed out loud in amusement, "alright, i'll go grab the kiddo."

"i'll be home later. and don't you dare reward him with something sweet on the way home."

satoru was appalled that you would even think he was going to pick up megumi and grab ice cream on the way back. however, you already knew he was thinking about it.

"so feisty." satoru chuckled, "we'll see you at home later then, sweetheart."

***************************

satoru teleported into the front office of the elementary school. mrs. akita opened the door to her office and brought the white haired sorcerer into the room while megumi waited outside. satoru sat down on the leather seat as mrs. akita sighed.

"satoru, megumi has been getting into a lot of fights lately. is everything okay at home?"

"(y/n) and i have been talking to him about not fighting at school..." satoru started, "but he always has a good reason for fighting, so we couldn't exactly reprimand him. what happened today anyways?"

"megumi got in a scuffle with a group of bullies. there are a couple troublemaker cliques in his grade and he beat up three of them." mrs. akita reported back to him, rubbing her temples. "they have extensive injuries, satoru."

satoru started laughing, impressed that megumi took on three school bullies by himself.

"—satoru, this is serious. their parents want him expelled."

"did megumi win?" satoru asked curiously, ignoring mrs. akita's last statement.

mrs. akita glared at him in annoyance, "clearly he won if the parents are wanting him expelled, satoru."

"then that's all that matters to me. that's my kid we're talking about here. end of discussion, akita." satoru said, standing up from his chair and waving off the conversation. “megumi will take the two-day suspension and we'll pay the fines. tell the other kids' parents we're sorry, yada yada yada.”

mrs. akita rolled her eyes, "you're lucky principal kinomoto and i love you and (y/n). no other school would put up with this behavior, satoru."

satoru winked at the vice principal and opened the door to look at megumi. he had a couple of scratches on his face, a bandaid on his cheek and left knee. megumi looked like he was going to burst into tears with the way he was frowning as pouting.

"alrighty, kiddo. let's head back to jujutsu high."

satoru gave megumi a piggy back ride while the child shoved his sniffling face into the back of satoru's uniform. satoru teleported back to jujutsu high as they walked through the school corridors together. he knew that he would have to have a conversation with megumi before you got back from your mission.

"you know you're going to have to tell (y/n) what happened, right?"

megumi glared at his guardian, "i don't want to." and in a matter of seconds, megumi started to burst into tears.

"you cryin', megumi? didn't you win the fight?" satoru asked.

megumi wiped his tears with his forearm, hiccuping, "y-yes."

"then why are you cryin'?"

"i'm scared to see (y/n)." he sheepishly admitted.

satoru started laughing. megumi could feel his laugh vibrating through his back as satoru carried him. he clutched his arms tighter around satoru's shoulders.

the sorcerer grinned, "you and me both, kiddo."

"...is she going to be mad at me? what if she doesn’t love me anymore?" megumi asked satoru full of worry. he knew that satoru knew you better than anyone else in this world.

satoru thought out loud, "hmmm, she'll probably be a little disappointed. but—she’ll always love you and she cares for you a ton. at the end of the day, you’re her baby."

megumi's eyes continued to water as his grip on satoru's uniform tightened. the closer they got to the dining hall, the more nervous the child got.

"looks like you're in luck, kiddo. (y/n) isn't back from her mission yet." satoru sighed in relief, "let's go see shoko and get you all healed up."

***************************

"oh my..." shoko gasped, "what happened to you, megumi?!"

megumi looked at satoru and then back at the ground. he was too embarrassed to tell shoko what had happened at school.

"he just got in a little tussle at school." satoru told his bestfriend, waving it off.

shoko started laughing, "sounds like you when you were younger, gojo."

"yeah, but i wouldn't have gotten beat up." satoru grinned at the doctor, "i was untouchable."

the brunette rolled her eyes at him, "you're so full of yourself."

satoru scoffed and put megumi down on the exam table. "can you just make sure he's okay before my girlfriend sees his scratches and yells at me?"

shoko nodded. she healed up megumi's minor cuts and bruises so that it looked like nothing ever happened.

***************************

you and nanami were walking through the school's courtyard after your mission today. the mission ended up running later than usual.

"sorry that mission took so long," nanami mumbled. “i know you were worried about megumi.”

"it's okay, nanami. satoru’s with him." you high-fived him, "good job tonight."

as you continued the walk through the courtyard, you saw satoru leaning against the entrance to the school building with his arms folded. he cleared his throat.

"your jealously is showing, satoru." you grinned at your boyfriend.

"me?" satoru called out to you, baffled, pointing at nanami, "jealous of him?"

satoru laughed as nanami rolled his eyes at him. "megumi has been waiting for you, babe."

"what?" you asked in disbelief, "it's past his bedtime. it's almost 10pm. satoru, you're supposed to make sure the kids go to bed on time."

"he wouldn't go back to the apartment, he won't go to sleep without talking to you." satoru grinned thinking about megumi’s tenacity.

satoru walked with you back to the dining hall, holding your bag in one hand and your hand in the other.

"i'll wait in the hallway. go talk to megumi." satoru said as he blew you kiss. you caught his air kiss and threw it on the floor, making him laugh out loud. your feisty personality was one of his favorite things about you.

you entered the dining hall. megumi looked up at you with sad eyes. you sat down in front of the child.

"hey, megumi." you greetled him softly, he was quiet and a little awkward. it looked like you were going to have to break the ice. you started the conversation with the 7 year old, "so, wanna tell me what happened at school today?"

"the kids i beat up were talking about you and gojo-sensei." megumi muttered. he folded his arms, angry at the thought of those bullies and what they had said about the two guardians he cared so much about.

"well... what were they saying about us that made you so upset you had to go and beat them up?"

megumi quietly told you what happened, "they kept saying that you and gojo-sensei weren't mine and tsumiki's real parents and that we don’t look like you two. it made tsumiki cry."

your heart shattered. kids were so mean nowadays. you admit that megumi and tsumiki's situation was unique, yes, but the fact that kids bullied each other about their parents was cruel. you never wanted the kids to feel bad about their situation.

you scoffed, "how can i be mad at the fact that you were defending mine and satoru’s honor?" you ruffled megumi's hair, "why were you so scared to tell me that?"

"because i keep getting in trouble for fighting." megumi frowned, disappointed in himself.

"megumi, i want you to be able to tell me anything. i don't want you to keep things bottled up."

"—but what if you don't love me anymore after i tell you the bad things?" megumi asked quietly.

you were shocked that a 7 year old could have such thoughts. how could he think that you wouldn’t love him anymore? megumi and tsumiki were the center of your world since satoru swiped them off the streets and brought them home to you. (read 'learn to love' here)

you asked megumi a question, "how many times a day do i tell you and tsumiki that i love you two?"

"you tell us every morning before we go to school and before we go to bed. and sometimes randomly throughout the day." megumi smiled at the mental reminder.

"—just because you get into fights at school doesn't mean that i'll love you any less. if anything, i worry about you getting hurt." you lectured him, "now, if you grow up to be a horrible curse user, we might have a problem."

"does that mean you're not mad at me?" megumi asked quietly.

"i am a little disappointed," you sighed, "—but i don't love you any less."

you reached out to him for a hug. the boy jumped into your arms. you squeezed him tightly, rocking him back and forth. "now tell me... did satoru buy you ice cream after school?"

megumi froze, his eyes widened. him and gojo-sensei were caught red-handed.

"uh huh... got it." you laughed. you were going to have a word with satoru later tonight.

end flashback

the dial tone was echoing through megumi's ears as he waited for you to pick up. he felt a lump in his throat, his heart was racing, just like back then when he was 7 years old, but this took the cake for the hardest conversation he's ever had to have with you. he would rather tell you that he broke the glass coffee table in the living room trying to summon max elephant a hundred times over again.

"megumi, are you okay?" you answered, "do you need me to—"

"i'm fine, (y/n). it's gojo-sensei."

your felt sick to your stomach. it was in that moment that you knew something had happened to satoru.

"what happened to him?"

"he was sealed." megumi said grimly.

you furrowed your eyebrows, not understanding what megumi was saying, "what do you mean sealed?"

"i—i don't know all the specifics." megumi stuttered through the receiver, "—but i'm going to find out. i'll save gojo-sensei, (y/n). i promise you. so don’t worry and… don’t be mad at him."

"megumi, wait..." you said, voice barely coming out as a whisper. you heard the younger sorcerer disconnect from the other line.

you felt a lump in your throat as you fought back tears. you had to be strong for the students... and for satoru. you felt this immense pain and anger in your chest. if satoru was sealed, that meant he was still alive. there was a sliver of hope that you would see him again. satoru had to be okay... right?

"(y/n)!" shoko yelled out your name, "you're going to flood all my medical supplies!"

you snapped out of your thoughts and looked around the area. water was starting to flood the ground, surrounding the both of your feet.

"what did megumi say to upset you that much?!" shoko asked, "i haven't seen you do that since high school!"

"satoru was sealed, shoko. and i don't know what that means!" you yelled in frustration, throwing your ice shards against the concrete wall.

the street lamps started to flicker as ice started to form around the streets, fire hydrants started to explode due to high water pressure, water started to fill the streets of shibuya. your cursed energy was starting to become uncontrollable.

you wondered how megumi was feeling at this moment and how horrible he must have felt telling you that satoru was sealed. it couldn't have been easy for him, nor could it be easy for the rest of the jujutsu sorcerers and satoru’s students knowing that the strongest was sealed away. the team morale was probably destroyed.

shoko distracted you out of your thoughts again, "you should go to shibuya. the students need you. you're second in command if anything happens to gojo."

you looked at shoko with determination in your eyes, she nodded at you as you made your way out the door to head straight for shibuya station.

the students needed you right now more than ever since satoru was gone. they needed the support from you, the support that you always gave to them no matter what the situation was. you were their go-to person for comfort. whether they got a bad grade on their mission, if they lost a spar, or when they needed an ear to listen to them, you were there.

you thought back to the conversation that you and satoru had. promise number one would have to wait. promise number two was on a flight back to japan and would be landing in a couple hours. promise number three...

'don't worry, satoru.' you thought to yourself, 'i'll wait for you to come home. i don't care how long it takes. we'll find a way to get you back.'

little did you know, the nineteen days that satoru gojo was sealed away was the most excruciating pain you've ever experienced in your life, not even an injury from a curse could compare.

it was as if something was missing from your life and you never wanted to experience the pain of losing someone so important to you ever again.

© 2024 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[tojisun]

um your ghostgaz blurb but also ghost letting gaz tip his head back onto his shoulder and squeezing at his base when he’s inside you so you can have a break from gaz humping your cunt until you both go dumb (and so simon can hear him keen out that ‘ah, right there, rightthere-‘ again)

AHHHHHHHHHHH YEA YEA !!! holy shit this is some good fuckin soup!!

“shh, pretty, ‘ve got you,” simon grunts in kyle’s ear, his words rumbling deeply.

it is a shared moment between the two of them, one that you’re once again a spectator of, but you don’t mind. not when you get a glimpse of kyle’s demeanour breaking for a quiet splintering in the hands of simon.

kyle bucks in his hold, trying to fuck into the tight fist of simon or into the warm press of your cunt, you don’t know, but it has simon tutting before forcing kyle to stop again. kyle keens, desperate for his orgasm, but god are you thankful for the break.

they had you for hours, either taking turns or taking you at the same time, and it has your body aching, pussy all sore and legs a trembling mush. simon massages at your thigh in placation, choosing to relay his affection through touch because this is still a scene—the one that the three of you easily fall into; the one where you are made to be used, often as a vessel to reflecr the guys’ love for each other, like you exist only for their mutual pleasure and not your own.

(objectification kink, the engine search bar had put out as a result of your question from when you were first included into their fold.

there were social media threads and official bdsm websites that expounded on the matter but you understood enough. it was pretty self explanatory, you thought, and, in the silence of your room, you trembled in excitement.

anticipation coursed through you in pinching waves, uncontainable as you waited for the weekend to come.)

so you lay there, watching with hunger as simon pressed his murmured kisses on kyle’s neck, his voice too quiet for you to pick up. but whatever simon is saying has kyle writhing, his body trembling, until he’s collapsing into simon’s chest, head tipped up for a breathy keen. you gasp out at the sound, your pussy squeezing at his cock for a moment, and kyle begins to weep.

simon rumbles a pleasured grunt, snarling something close to, “s’good f’me,” then his fist begins moving, bumping against your sore folds, then back up to the remaining shaft of kyle’s cock.

you blink, feeling saliva pool underneath your tongue as your desire peaks, bloating at the image they make—kyle, writhing and moaning, and simon jerking your lover so he can finally cum—

in you.

“almost—si—!” kyle screams, gasping at his heightening euphoria.

“good,” simon murmurs, slow and sensual, and his face all flushed. “cum f’me, baby. go on.”

you see the moment kyle’s orgasm razes him. his body locks up, his eyes are blown wide, and his jaw drops for a soundless moan. god, you know the feeling—that explosion of ecstasy that almost feels too surreal; like you’ve been ripped from your body and thrusted up into nirvana.

then, something warm trickles into you, spurting on the cushions of your walls. you cry, your exhausted body protesting at being pumped full again—they haven’t even let you squeeze out simon’s spill—and you swear you feel your stomach bulging. making room for kyle’s release.

it—

it shouldn’t turn you on but it does, and simon snaps his eyes back to you like he knows just what exactly is running in your head.

he grins, something that is a little too mean, and you realize that while kyle is done, simon has yet to get his fill.

fuck.

[fritz-federleicht]

Stage experience/ Vessel x reader

Summary: You just wanted to put a full water bottle under his keyboard during the gig.

Words: 914

You travel a lot with the band. At first it was just because you wanted to be close to your boyfriend Vessel to make sure he's okay while touring. But it quickly became clear that you were the go-to person for everything. You take care of some of their social media, do small tasks during set-up and make sure the guys feel comfortable.

This includes their performances. As always, you stand backstage and watch the stage from the side. Everything goes as planned, the show is perfect. Your boyfriend jumps across the stage like Bambi, fooling around with the others.

However, you notice from your position that his water bottle, which he has placed under the keyboard because of his strained voice recently, is almost empty. Which is not unusual considering the concert is already halfway through.

A low hum escapes you. You grab a full bottle and enter the stage without attracting attention. You sneak past behind II and his drums to Vessel's keyboard. You quickly place the new bottle of water to make your way off the stage unnoticed.

Well, not if Vessel has his way. He's spotted you. Like a predator, he's set his eyes on his prey and approaches you with long, graceful strides.

As you straighten up, you realise that your attempt to sneak on and off the stage unnoticed has failed. Vessel's attention is completely on you.

From the way he approaches you as if you were his everything, you can imagine that he's ready to flirt with you in front of the roaring crowd.

He won't kiss you on stage, you know that for sure. He would never reveal an insight into your relationship to the public. And definitely not a hint about his identity.

Your boyfriend gets closer and closer until he holds out his large hand, dipped in black body paint, for you to take.

You look at him a bit uncertain as you can see past him at the large crowd. He replies with a warm smile only you can see because his back faces the audience and wiggles his slender digits.

Eventually you grab his hand, and a roar fills the venue. Vessel guides your fingers to his lips before gently bending his torso in front of you as if asking for a dance.

A grin creeps onto your lips and before you realise it he's placed his hands on your hips and turned you around in his arms. A surprised noise escapes from your mouth.

You look ahead, into the sea of faces and phones eagerly filming the whole experience. Your breath catches. All eyes are on you and the charming man who looks like a god in his costume. He looms behind you, hovering like an intimidating guardian.

A low growl escapes him next to your ear that is only meant for you to hear. Vessel pulls your back closer to his bare, toned chest and allows his hands to roam gently over your sides. Finally, he snakes his arm around your waist. His free hand finds its way up to your chin. Gently guiding you, he tilts your head back until you rest your head against his broad shoulder.

He looks down at you and starts to sweep the pad of his thumb fondly along the curve of your lower lip. Which causes you to part your lips instinctively.

People scream excitedly in response and you want to turn your head towards them. To look at them. But you can't. Vessel holds your chin firmly yet gently between his fingers. You're trapped in his arms. Almost like before every show, when he won't let you go until the last possible second.

In the corner of your eye, you see III's slim figure and you can literally imagine his big grin under the mask.

Your gaze shifts back to Vessel, who now slowly slides his index finger down your throat. He brings his hands back to their original position on your hips and gives you another gentle squeeze. A silent thank you. Then he pulls away from you with an small smile in your direction and strides with swift, elegant steps to his mic to make sure he doesn't miss his turn.

For a moment, you stand perplexed in front of the keyboard. You watch as your boyfriend reverently holds the mic with one hand while singing and slowly slides his fingers up the microphone stand with the other.

Nobody pays attention to you anymore. Vessel holds the crowd spellbound, has them wrapped around his finger. And this fact alone impresses you. The ease with which he manages to attract the attention of the entire crowd.

The thought of what task you actually wanted to fulfil snaps you out of your thoughts. With a gentle smile on your lips, you head backstage, past II.

Behind the blind, you glance down on yourself. Black body paint sticks to your hands and clothes. And you're sure you've got some on your chin and throat too.

But you're used to it. Vessel's lack of patience would have left stains on you anyway. He just can't help but feel you before he showers the dirt and sweat from the show off his body.

You decide to enjoy the performance further and not to clean yourself now. He'll mark you as his again in his own way anyway.

[dropletpetals]

SAGA AU: Their Grace wishes to adopt the Wanderer. What would his reaction be? (I ask because I want to adopt this boy and be his new mama 🥺)

Wanted Son

(feat. Wanderer)

❥⁠Synopsis: After he was created, he was abandoned by his mother. Would You too abandon him?

❥⁠Content Warnings: SAGAU, cult au, religious themes, abandonment issues, mommy issues, basically just all of Wanderer's issues, yandere behavior.

❥⁠Author's Notes: Wow this is like my 3rd Wanderer fic in a row shhsgs

Disbelief.

Did...

Did he hear that right?

He asked for You to repeat what You just said, trembling.

When he heard once again what You just said, he looked at You, confused and lost. "Why? Why would you...?"

Why would You want him for all that he's done? Why would You want him when he had hurt so many people, including Your first vessel?

Why would You want him as Your son when he wasn't even enough for his original mother? Why would You want him when his own mother threw him away?

Why?

Just...

Why?

But even as disbelief and hesitance covered his entire being...

"Yes. I accept."

He was not a saint, and he may be repenting but he is still a selfish man and all he ever wanted before was his mother's affection.

But here You were, easily offering the parental affection that he had once craved and had buried within himself.

No matter if You're doing this because You're fond of him or for Your own gain, he would still accept. There never was any doubt of him refusing your offer.

After all, You had already given him a name. That was more than he can say of Beelzebub.

After that day You had gained a shadow. Your son always a half-step behind You wherever you go.

He would say that he was protecting You because who else fit to be Your guard but Your own son? But it's also for his own selfish reasons.

He wants to be close to You at all times. He selfishly clings to You when You two are alone, craving and seeking the attention You so easily give him and calling You by whatever You wished him to.

Whether or not You are physically affectionate, his hands would always seek Yours in private, assuring himself that You're still there, that You haven't abandoned him.

In moments of vulnerability, he was like a newborn babe who always calls for his mother, dependent and terrified of being alone.

Sometimes he would think of his first mother and how ironic it was that he was once the son of an Archon, but now he is the son of the Creator, a being more powerful than his first mother.

The petty part of his mind was gleeful while another part of him slightly regrets erasing himself in Irminsoul, if only to shove this on Beelzebub's face.

But he waved it off his mind and focused on the present. He would be a dutiful son if that's what You desire of him. He would help with Your duties if that's what You wish.

He would do the dirty work for You, no need for You to take action because Your son is here. He would strike down those that scorn You, those that earn Your ire, those that do not worship You as they should. He would be the loving son, the helpful and dutiful son as long as You wish.

Because all he had ever wished for was to be wanted, and now he is, so please don't let him be alone again.

❥⁠End Notes: I guess we're still not over Wanderer huh?

❥⁠Q: Since we're in the topic of adoption, who do you want to adopt in Genshin? Cause I would adopt Razor in a heartbeat.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 5

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺."

summary: the rhythm of your days blends with the vibrant backdrop of your church’s dance preparations. Beneath the soft glow of Houston’s city lights and the gentle hum of Joel's truck, your deepening bond with him unfolds amidst stolen moments and whispered confessions. As you navigate the delicate dance of your emerging feelings, Joel’s own transformation remains veiled from his family.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 5

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter 4

next | chapter 6

The anticipation for the church dance troupe's performance was building. The whole town was buzzing with excitement as the event drew near, only two weeks away. The performance would be a grand spectacle attended by everyone in town, including all the elders, and it was scheduled for the same day your father was set to return.

The first week of preparation was filled with rigorous rehearsals. You and your friends gathered at the community fellowship building, a bustling hub of activity. Jemima, Pastor Ben's wife, along with a few other church members, coordinated the practices. The adults were always around, providing guidance and encouragement.

The church dance troupe was more than just an extracurricular activity; it was a lifeline, a vessel of hope and validation that you clung to. Each dance step, every twirl, and every leap was a silent plea for recognition, especially from your father. You had always loved dancing, finding solace in the rhythm and movement. It was the one place where you felt free, where the world and its heavy expectations seemed to melt away.

This performance was different. It was not just another event; it was a grand spectacle that could potentially alter the trajectory of your family's standing in the community. The mayor of the town would be there, along with other influential figures and elders. It was an opportunity for your family to be thrust into the spotlight, a chance to shine and, more importantly, a moment to make your father proud.

Your father, a man of stern demeanor and unyielding expectations, had always demanded excellence. He often showed you off, his actions speaking louder than his words. To him, you were a reflection of the family name, a testament to his own efforts and discipline. The thought of this performance being a success was not just about personal achievement for you; it was about carrying the weight of familial pride and expectation.

The rehearsals were intense, each session a blend of sweat, dedication, and the relentless pursuit of perfection. Jemima and the other coordinators pushed you and your friends hard, knowing the significance of the event. As you practiced, you imagined your father watching you, his eyes scrutinizing every move, his expression a mask of stern judgment.

During breaks, the atmosphere was filled with the usual activities of a church community—people chatting, sharing snacks, and discussing the upcoming performance. Pastor Ben often made an appearance, ostensibly to support the group's efforts, but you couldn't help but notice his lingering gaze on you. Jemima was always busy coordinating the rehearsals and offering guidance, leaving Ben with ample opportunity to keep an eye on the group.

You and Emma had both noticed Ben's attentiveness, though it was you who seemed to capture his interest the most. His questions and small talk were frequently directed at you, and his presence seemed more pronounced whenever you were around. Despite the attention, you tried to remain polite and composed, responding to his questions with the same courtesy you showed everyone else.

As the day's rehearsal came to an end, you bid farewell to your friends and began gathering your things. Just as you were about to leave, Pastor Ben approached you, his steps confident and his smile warm.

"Hey," he greeted you.

You looked up, slightly startled but quickly masking your surprise. "Oh, hey, Pastor Ben."

He chuckled softly. "Please, just call me Ben. Using 'Pastor' makes me feel old."

You smiled politely. "Alright, Ben."

"So, how did the rehearsal go today?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes attentive.

"It went well, I think," you replied, then added with a light smile, "You were there, well, what do you think?"

Pastor Ben chuckled softly, leaning against the doorframe. "You’re right, I was there. And from what I saw, you all are doing a wonderful job. There’s a real sense of unity in the group, and that’s something special."

You nodded, feeling a mix of pride and a little awkwardness under his steady gaze. "Thanks. We’ve been working hard, trying to make it something memorable."

Ben’s eyes softened as he looked at you. "I can see that. And you, especially, seem to put your heart into it."

You felt your cheeks flush slightly, unsure how to respond to the compliment. "Well, I love dancing, so... it’s important to me. And I want to make my family proud, especially my dad."

Ben’s expression turned thoughtful, and he nodded. "That’s a good motivation. I’m sure your father will be proud of you when he sees what you’ve accomplished."

"I hope so," you said, the weight of your father’s expectations pressing on your shoulders. "It’s not always easy to meet his standards."

Ben tilted his head, studying you for a moment. "Parents can be tough sometimes, especially when they have high expectations. But you should be proud of yourself, too. It’s clear you’re giving it your all."

You smiled politely, feeling a bit more at ease. "Thank you, Ben."

There was a brief pause, and Ben seemed to hesitate before speaking again. "Well, are you gonna go home? Do you need a lift?" he asked, his voice casual but with an undertone that made you feel slightly uneasy.

You hesitated, glancing toward the parking lot. You were supposed to meet Joel, and he had made it clear he’d be waiting for you at the back of the school, out of sight from anyone who might be watching.

"Oh, thank you, Ben," you began, choosing your words carefully. "But I’m actually meeting someone. I’ve got a ride, so I’m all set."

Ben raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Someone from the dance group?"

You forced a smile, shaking your head. "No, just a friend. We’re heading out for a bit."

"Boyfriend?" Ben asked, his tone casual, but there was a hint of something more behind the question—curiosity, maybe even a touch of jealousy.

Your heart skipped a beat at the word. You weren’t sure how to answer, not wanting to give away too much. "No, just a friend," you repeated, trying to keep your tone light. "We’re just going to hang out for a while."

Ben nodded slowly, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. "Well, be careful, alright? It’s getting dark out there."

"Of course," you replied, maintaining your polite demeanor. "Thanks, Ben."

With that, you turned to walk away, your heart beating a little faster. As you made your way around the side of the building, your eyes darted around, searching for Joel’s truck. You spotted it parked in the shadows, just as he had said it would be.

Joel was leaning against the truck, arms crossed, waiting for you. The moment you saw him, a sense of relief washed over you, dispelling the lingering unease from your conversation with Ben.

"Hey, doll," Joel greeted you as you approached. He pushed off from the truck and opened the passenger door for you. "Ready to go?"

You nodded, climbing into the truck. "Yeah, let’s get out of here."

Joel shut the door behind you, then walked around to the driver’s side and got in. As he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, you couldn’t help but glance in the side mirror, half-expecting to see Ben watching from a distance. But the street was empty, and soon the school was behind you as you and Joel headed out of town.

"Everything okay?" Joel asked, noticing your pensive expression as he drove.

"Yeah," you replied, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts. "Just... Ben offered me a ride, and it felt a little weird."

Joel frowned slightly, glancing over at you. "Weird how?"

You shrugged, trying to put your feelings into words. "I don’t know. He just seemed...just forget about it," you said, hoping to brush it off, but Joel wasn’t letting it go that easily.

"Wait, what do you mean?" he asked, his tone more insistent.

You hesitated, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. "It’s nothing important."

Joel’s gaze remained fixed on you, his concern evident. "Doll... is he making you uncomfortable?"

You bit your lip, feeling a bit foolish for even bringing it up. "No, it’s just... he’s more interested in me than he should be. Like, he was paying a lot of attention during rehearsals and then offering me a ride. I don’t know, maybe I’m just overthinking it. Maybe he was just being nice and polite."

Joel’s frown deepened, his protective instinct kicking in. "If he’s making you feel uneasy, you need to tell me. Okay?"

You nodded, appreciating his concern. "Okay, I will."

There was a moment of silence, the tension from the conversation lingering in the air. You glanced out the window, watching as the town faded into the distance. The trip to Houston would take a while, and you wanted to shift the mood to something lighter.

"Joel," you asked, turning back to him, "can we listen to some music?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Sure, darling." He reached over to the radio and tuned in to a familiar station. As he did, the opening chords of "Harvest Moon" by Neil Young began to play, filling the truck with its soothing melody.

You couldn’t help but smile. "I love this song."

"Me too," Joel replied, his voice softening as the music enveloped the both of you.

As the song played, you let yourself get lost in the moment. The gentle strumming of the guitar and Neil Young’s tender voice seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket, easing the tension that had settled in your chest. There was something timeless about the song, something that made you feel safe and understood, like everything was exactly as it should be, at least for now.

The lyrics spoke of love, of dancing together under the light of a harvest moon, and you found yourself wishing for that kind of simplicity in your own life. Being with Joel felt like that sometimes—like you were both in a world of your own, where the complications of your life couldn’t touch you. It was just the two of you, killing time on the road, the open highway stretching out before you like a promise of something more.

You look at Joel as he drives, your eyes tracing the lines of his face in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. The music played quietly in the background, creating a serene atmosphere that made this moment feel almost dreamlike. You couldn't help but admire him—how he looked so effortlessly handsome, even in the simplest moments.

Joel had a rugged and weathered appearance that only added to his appeal. His strong, muscular build was a testament to years of hard work, and the deep-set wrinkles around his eyes and mouth told stories of a life lived through hardship and survival. His dark hair, graying at the temples, and the scruffy beard he often wore gave him a rugged charm that was impossible to ignore.

His eyes, though—a striking, soulful brown—were what truly captivated you. There was a depth to them, a mix of sadness and wariness that hinted at the burdens he carried. But in this moment, as he drove with a steady hand, those eyes held a quiet intensity, softened by the comfort of being in your company.

Joel wasn't like the boys you knew from school or the men you saw in town. There was something about him, something that made your heart skip a beat whenever you were near him. Maybe it was the way he seemed so strong yet so gentle, or how he always knew just what to say to make you feel safe. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, not as a child or a preacher's daughter, but as someone who mattered, someone worth protecting.

His flannel shirt and worn jeans might have been simple, but on him, they looked perfect. The sturdy jacket he wore only added to his rugged appeal, making him look like the kind of man who could take on anything the world threw at him and come out on top. But more than his physical appearance, it was the way he carried himself—the quiet confidence, the steady calm—that drew you in.

As you watched him, you realized that Joel was the first man you'd ever looked at this way. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t demanding or harsh. He was just... Joel. And for the first time since you were a child, you could see a man who wasn’t angry.

Joel was everything you hadn’t known you were looking for—strong, protective, kind. And as you sat there, in the passenger seat of his truck, you couldn’t help but feel that whatever this was between the two of you, it was something worth holding onto.

The miles continued to slip away as you let yourself get lost in the rhythm of the road, the steady hum of the engine, and the quiet comfort of Joel's presence. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

As you approached Houston, the city lights shimmered in the distance, a glittering array of orange and white against the dark canvas of the night sky. The sight of the city, so vibrant and alive, filled you with a sense of excitement. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, small-town life you were used to, and the thought of exploring something new with Joel by your side made your heart skip a beat.

Joel navigated the truck through the streets, eventually pulling up to a house on the outskirts of the city. It was still a work in progress, but even in its unfinished state, you could tell it was going to be beautiful. The structure was modest yet elegant, with clean lines and a minimalist design that felt both modern and warm.

As you stepped out of the truck, Joel gestured towards the house. "What do you think?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of pride.

You took a moment to take it all in, the smell of fresh wood and the faint scent of sawdust lingering in the air. "It's beautiful, Joel. Minimalist, not too big, not too small. It feels... cozy."

Joel nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I wanted to keep it simple, but still make it something special."

You turned to him, curiosity getting the better of you. "So, who’s this house for? A client, or...?"

Joel shrugged, his expression thoughtful. "Not sure yet. The land was sold cheap by someone I know—he was in a tight spot and needed the money. I felt bad for him, so I bought it. Figured I’d put a house on it instead of letting the land just sit there. It's only about halfway done, still a lot left to finish."

He paused, glancing around the space as if seeing it for the first time through your eyes. "Maybe for Ellie one day. Or... maybe for you if you ever decide you want to leave that small town of ours."

His words left you momentarily speechless, a warm flutter spreading in your chest. You tried to play it off with a lighthearted joke. "Houston’s still too close to our town, Joel. If I ever leave, I might need to go much farther."

Joel chuckled softly, the sound deep and comforting. "Fair enough."

He led you through the house, showing you the different rooms, each space still in varying stages of completion. It was clear he had put a lot of thought into the design, making sure every detail was just right. Finally, he stopped in front of a set of glass doors. "The balcony’s almost done. Want to see it?"

You nodded eagerly, following him out onto the balcony. It was a stunning space, with a transparent roof that let you see the sky above while keeping you sheltered from the elements. The city lights flickered in the distance, but here, under the open sky, it felt like a world of its own.

"It’s taken almost a year to get it to this point," Joel admitted, his voice soft. "Sometimes I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep going or just leave it as it was."

As you stepped further out, you noticed a couch on the balcony, neatly set up with blankets and pillows. It looked well-used, like someone had spent a lot of time there. You glanced at Joel, raising an eyebrow. "You come here often?"

Joel smiled, a bit sheepishly. "Yeah, when I need to clear my head. It’s quiet up here. Helps me think."

Before you could respond, Joel started straightening out the blankets on the couch, making it more comfortable. He then lay down, looking up at the sky. He patted the space beside him, inviting you to join him. "C'mere"

You smile and then lying down next to him. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, and as you settled in, you felt a wave of calm wash over you. The sky above was a blanket of stars, each one twinkling like a tiny beacon of light in the darkness.

Lying there beside Joel, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time. The worries and expectations that weighed so heavily on you seemed to fade away, replaced by the simple joy of being in this moment with him. It was just the two of you, under the stars, sharing a quiet connection that didn’t need words.

After a while, Joel broke the comfortable silence. “So, you really want to get out of town after you graduate, huh?” His voice was low, almost contemplative.

You nodded, your gaze still fixed on the stars. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I just… I don’t know exactly where yet. Maybe the East Coast or the West Coast. But I’ve always wanted to visit the West. Maybe California, Los Angeles… It’s just something about it, you know? All those Hollywood movies make it feel like a dream.”

Joel listened quietly, nodding as you spoke. You could feel his eyes on you, his presence a comforting weight beside you. After a moment, you turned the question back to him. “What about you, Joel? If you could go anywhere, where would you go? What would you do?”

Joel took a deep breath, as if considering the possibilities. “I’d like to live a simple life. An old farmhouse, some land, maybe a ranch,” he said thoughtfully. “I’d raise sheep. They’re quiet and do what they’re told.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “Farmlife sounds very nice, Joel. Peaceful.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that warmed your heart. “Yeah, I think it would be. But for now, construction pays the bills.”

You turned slightly to look at him, curiosity piqued. “But why construction? I mean, you’ve got a lot of money. You could leave town and move to the countryside if you wanted to.”

Joel sighed, his expression turning more serious. “Maybe. But it’s not just about the money, y’know? Construction... it gives me something to do, keeps my hands busy. After everything that happened, I needed something solid, something that made sense. Building things, working with my hands... it keeps me grounded.”

You could hear the weight of his words, the unspoken memories that lingered just beneath the surface. “And besides,” he continued, “leaving town isn’t as easy as it sounds. There’s a lot tied up in this place, a lot of memories, good and bad.”

You nodded, understanding more than you could ever say. “I guess I can relate to that.”

Joel turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, doll. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. Take your time, figure out what you really want.”

You smiled softly, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for him, for how he made you feel understood and safe.

Without overthinking it, you leaned in closer, your gaze briefly locking with his before you tilted your head up to kiss him. The kiss was soft, sweet, and gentle, an extension of the warmth that had been building between you two for weeks. Joel responded in kind, his arms tightening around you as if he didn’t want to let go.

But as the kiss deepened, a thought crept into your mind—Emma's words from the other morning, about how you could show love to someone you really liked or loved. The idea lingered, urging you to be bolder, to express just how much you cared about Joel in a more intimate way.

You hesitated for only a second before kissing him again, this time with more passion. Joel seemed surprised but played along, his lips meeting yours in a way that made your heart race. You let your hands explore, moving over his broad chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. You were nervous, but the thought of showing him how much you cared kept pushing you forward.

Your kisses trailed down from his lips to his jaw, then lower to his neck, your hands beginning to wander further down his body. As you continued, you could feel Joel stiffen slightly beneath you, and just as your kisses were about to travel even lower, he suddenly pulled back, his voice firm but gentle.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he murmured, his hands coming up to hold you still. “What are you doing?”

You blinked up at him, confusion written all over your face. “I just... I want to show that I care about you and want to thank you,” you said softly, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words. “Emma told me that... that when you really like someone, you can show them by, you know, doing things like this. I just wanted to... please you, I guess.”

For a moment, Joel just looked at you, his expression a mix of surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place. Then he sighed, his hands gently cupping your face, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“Listen to me, sweetheart,” he began, his voice low and earnest. “I appreciate that you care about me, more than you know. But this? This isn’t how you show that. You don’t need to do anything like this to prove how you feel, okay? Not to me, not to anyone.”

You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, realizing that maybe you’d misunderstood what Emma had meant. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling a little foolish.

Joel shook his head, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. But I want you to understand something: love, real love, isn’t about doing things to keep someone around or to make them happy. It’s about respect, trust, and caring for each other, no matter what. And I care about you, doll, more than you know. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. There was something comforting in knowing that Joel wasn’t expecting anything from you, that he cared for you just as you were.

Joel pulled you back into his arms, holding you close as if to reassure you. “Just being here with you, that’s more than enough for me,” he murmured, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

You snuggled into his embrace, feeling a deep sense of relief and gratitude. In that moment, you realized that what you had with Joel was special—something that didn’t need to be rushed or defined by anyone else’s expectations. It was enough just to be with him, to share these quiet, intimate moments under the stars.

And for now, that was all you needed.

The morning sun filtered gently through the transparent roof of the balcony, casting a soft glow over you and Joel as you lay curled together under the thick blanket. The cool air of the dawn was a stark contrast to the warmth shared between you two. You felt the steady rise and fall of Joel’s breathing behind you, a comforting rhythm that made you feel secure.

You had called your mother last night, fabricating a story about staying over at Emma's place to work on a group project. Your mother, trusting as ever, had accepted your explanation without question. As you lay there, the peaceful silence of the morning was occasionally interrupted by the faint chirping of birds and the distant hum of the city waking up.

In your spooning position, you were nestled snugly against Joel, feeling his strong arms wrapped around you. The sensation was soothing, but as you relaxed, you became aware of something pressing against you—something firm and unmistakably intimate. You realized it was Joel’s growing arousal, a testament to his restraint and the powerful emotions he was holding back.

Joel had been incredibly patient with you, giving you the space to understand your feelings and the nature of your relationship. He had made it clear that he didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t ready for, especially after the recent emotional turbulence with Jamie. Yet here he was, still responding to your closeness despite his efforts to respect your boundaries.

You could sense the internal struggle Joel was facing. His body betrayed a desire he had been meticulously controlling, striving to honor your readiness rather than his own needs. It was a poignant reminder of his deep care and the complex layers of your relationship.

You gently shifted in his embrace, turning slightly so you could look up at Joel. His features were softened in sleep, and he looked almost serene. There was an undeniable tenderness in the way he rested, the soft lines of his face illuminated by the early morning light. His rugged charm was softened in this moment, and you couldn’t help but admire how peaceful and handsome he looked.

“Honey,” you called softly, nudging him gently.

Joel stirred slowly, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at you, a bit disoriented at first. “Hmm?”

As he fully awakened, he immediately noticed the situation. A flush of realization crossed his face, and he muttered, “Fuck, I didn’t mean for this—”

You cut him off before he could finish. “Joel, I can fix it,” you said firmly, your voice steady.

Joel's eyes widened with a mix of panic and confusion. “No, no, wait. What are you doing?”

“I can fix it,” you repeated, your tone insistent yet gentle.

Joel’s expression shifted to concern. “It’s okay, but you don’t have to do this. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for.”

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. “It’s okay. I want to.”

Joel’s face softened, and he shook his head slowly. “No, you’re not ready yet, sweetheart.”

“But,” you continued, your voice carrying a hint of determination, “you’re a man, and you’re going to need—right? Don’t you sometimes feel...horny? How do you handle that?”

Joel’s eyes widened at your directness, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite his attempt to remain serious. He looked both surprised and touched by your concern and curiosity. “Well, doll, it’s not always easy, but you learn to manage it. You focus on other things, or you just...take care of yourself.”

You nodded, absorbing his words. “So, it’s like...not something you can just ignore?”

Joel chuckled softly, his voice rough with sleep. “No, it’s part of being human. We all have needs and desires, but it’s about finding a balance, respecting each other’s boundaries.”

You looked thoughtful, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of understanding and curiosity. “So, there’s a time for everything?”

“Exactly,” Joel said, his voice softening. “It’s about finding the right time and the right moment. And right now, it’s important that we both understand and respect where we are.”

You smiled at him, feeling a sense of clarity and comfort in his words. “Thank you for being honest with me, Joel.”

He gave you a gentle smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Anytime, doll. We’ll figure this out together. No rush.”

You settled back into his embrace, feeling a profound sense of connection and trust. The conversation had brought a new level of intimacy and understanding between you two, reinforcing the bond you shared.

***

As Joel drove you back, he navigated the familiar streets with a thoughtful expression. The quiet between you was comfortable, punctuated only by the soft hum of the truck. When he finally stopped a few blocks away from your home, he turned to you, his eyes reflecting a mix of warmth and something more profound.

"See you later, doll," he said, his voice gentle. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. It was a tender gesture, full of unspoken promises and affection. You smiled at him, feeling a sense of contentment that you hadn't experienced in a long time.

"See you later, Joel" you replied, your voice soft but filled with emotion.

As Joel’s truck rounded the corner and vanished from view, you felt a mixture of elation and contentment. The previous night had been a rare and comforting escape from the pressures of daily life. The softness of Joel’s embrace and the quiet intimacy of the starlit balcony had left you feeling more at ease than you had in months.

You took a deep breath, savoring the lingering warmth from the night before, and headed inside to prepare for the day. A quick shower was in order to shake off the remnants of sleep and to ready yourself for the dance rehearsal later at the church. The routine of getting ready felt almost meditative, a gentle counterpoint to the excitement and nervousness building inside you.

As Joel pulled up to his house, he felt a rare surge of happiness. The morning sun cast a warm glow on everything, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how things had been lately. He parked the truck and headed inside, the familiar sound of the front door creaking open greeted him with a sense of belonging.

He dropped his keys in the bowl by the door and called out, “Ellie, I’m home!”

From the kitchen, Ellie looked up with a raised eyebrow. “Where the hell have you been?"

Joel’s eyes widened when he saw Tommy sitting at the breakfast table with Ellie. “Oh, Tommy, I didn’t see you there. What are you doing here?”

Tommy glanced up from his plate. “I’m here to pick you up. We have a meeting with clients about a big project. Remember?”

Joel’s heart sank. “Oh shit, I forgot. I’ll be ready in a minute. Just need to change clothes.”

Ellie watched Joel, noting his unusually bright demeanor. “Joel, you okay?”

Joel grabbed a pancake off the plate and took a bite, standing by the counter. “Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

Ellie gave a puzzled look, then shrugged. “Nothing. Just seemed like you’re in a good mood.”

Joel, humming softly to himself, replied, “Just give me ten minutes, okay? I’ll be right out.”

He headed to his room, still humming the tune of “Harvest Moon,” the song that had been playing during his time with you. His steps were lighter, his mood buoyant.

As Joel disappeared into his room, Ellie and Tommy exchanged glances, both intrigued by Joel’s recent behavior.

“Did you see that?” Ellie asked, her tone a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Yeah,” Tommy said with a chuckle. “He’s definitely different lately. Happier, more upbeat. It’s like he’s come out of a shell.”

Ellie nodded, leaning back in her chair. “I’ve noticed it too. He’s been going to church more, cracking jokes, and just generally being...more alive.”

Tommy took another sip of his coffee, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Well, good for him. Finally, thank God.”

Ellie leaned forward, her curiosity evident. “Did he tell you anything? Like, did he open up about something that’s made him happier lately, or maybe someone?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Ellie leaned in, “Did he ever, you know, confide in you about something? Like what’s made him so... different lately?”

Tommy scratched his chin, thinking back. “Hmm, now that you mention it, I do remember one time he showed up late to work. He had this... I don’t know, a woman’s perfume on him. I teased him about it, you know? I said something like, ‘Hey, look at you, smelling all fancy. Got a date or something?’”

Ellie’s eyes widened. “And? What did he say?”

Tommy chuckled. “He just brushed it off. Said I was imagining things. Tried to act all nonchalant, like it was nothing. But it was pretty clear he’d been somewhere—or with someone.”

Ellie’s curiosity was clearly piqued. “So, he really didn’t say anything more? No hints or anything?”

Tommy sipped his coffee and shook his head. “Nope, not a peep. He’s pretty tight-lipped about his personal life.”

Ellie looked thoughtful for a moment, then her face brightened with a mischievous grin. “I need to know if Joel’s finally dating someone or going out with someone. Because, hell, whoever she is, I don’t want an evil stepmother!”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. “Give your old man a break, Ellie. He’s not exactly the type to jump into things without thinking them through.”

Ellie’s expression turned serious. “I’m serious, Tommy! I don’t want a stepmother coming in too quickly. I’m really happy with how things are now—with Joel, you, Maria, and little Luke. It’s been nice.”

Tommy’s smile softened. “I get it. It’s a big change, and no one wants to feel like they’re being rushed into something. But Joel’s been through a lot. If he’s found something that makes him happy, we should be supportive, right?”

Ellie nodded earnestly. “I know. I just want to make sure that whatever happens, it’s for the right reasons. I don’t want anyone coming in and disrupting what we’ve got here.”

Tommy placed a reassuring hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Well, as long as we’re all here for each other, I think we’ll be okay."

[missglaskin]

Yandere Coriolanus Snow (Romantic) would include:

Tags: fem/Capitol!reader, implied naive!reader, toxic relationship, manipulativeness, lovesick!Coryo, controlling, possessive behavior, isolation, implied forced marriage, Coriolanus is his own warning, messy writing

Coriolanus harbors an insatiable desire for possession and control. This desire towards control was woven into the fabric of his very being through the childhood he had. The war took both his parents, leaving him, Tigress, and his grandmother to lose all their prestige and wealth. The only thing that remained was his name. For Coriolanus, control was needed, after all, survival hinges on the relentless pursuit of ambition. In his world, love itself is entangled with the need for control-a vessel through which he can only claim you for himself.

Coriolanus possesses a distinctive charm; able to tailor himself to align with your virtues and inclinations. Able to don many faces - a devoted son striving to make his family proud, a diligent student who gets along well with his classmates and has the praise of his teachers, a trustworthy and loyal friend. It’s no different to you; he may begin as a stranger, but he can and will integrate himself into your friend group, becoming an acquaintance to a dear friend, and perhaps, evolving into something more.

You spark an internal conflict within Coriolanus. A part of him resents how you seem to have a hold on him. In moments when you hand him something, and he can feel the brush of your fingers against his; fighting the urge to stroke them. Or in crowded hallways, where you accidentally bump into him, apologizing but it falls on deaf ears, where his mind is consumed with a desire to to hold your body against his. You make him lose control, the control he works so hard to maintain. 

Many times, he tried to convince himself that he wasn't in too deep, it only takes time for these feelings to pass. He can think of more beautiful girls in the academy, ones who are more intelligent, resourceful, and undoubtedly wealthier than you. But yet, he’s the first to notice when you walk into the room. how his ears seem to instinctively seek the sound of your voice, and as he turns, he always knows where to find you.

He would, at least in the beginning, never openly display his interest in you. If there’s one thing Coriolanus never wants to seem, is desperate. But the second your name is mentioned in a conversation, ever the opportunist, he’ll try to gather every little detail. Most of his discoveries come from watching you, attentively listening to your inputs during class, noting where you spend your time, observing your food preferences. 

He pays close attention to how you style yourself - everyone has a dress code, but where you choose to place your pins, how you tuck in your shirt, how you style your hair are the little details, not many notice. He will be sure to make a mention when you make any changes; savoring a moment of triumph when you claim he’s the first to notice.

A constant aspect of Coriolanus is his unrelenting judgment and scrutiny. He holds the belief that he can lead you to become the best version of yourself, someone who understands your needs better than anyone else, even you. He can’t help but think how you’re wasting your future spending time with students who seem to lack any ambition or dedication to their studies. How you’re too ‘kind’ allowing others to walk over you, and besides other male students will get the wrong idea. 

You’re not even together, yet everything you do appears to reflect on him. Even when he tries to keep up with your interests and hobbies, he wears a disapproving frown upon discovering your penchant for romance books. He’ll of course read them, but can’t help but lament over how you should delve into more scholarly literature. He reassures himself in due time that he’ll implement all those necessary changes in you, molding you into the person he envisions you should be.

Coriolanus knows what his end goal is; to have you by his side; bound to him and what other conventional means to achieve this than through marriage. A bit of that also aids into his desperation in his pursuit of the Plinth prize. Knowing he cannot bring you to his home or shower you with extravagant gifts, he makes do with the cakes Tigris makes or the white roses of his grandmother. 

He could thank Tigris for suggesting places he can take you, creating excuses for the long walks; he merely wants to engage in conversations away from everyone to understand you better. Coriolanus also takes deliberate steps to become acquainted with your parents, showing impeccable manners during the few meetings. His goal is in the hopes that your parents push you towards him, after all, nearly everyone around you anticipates something to come from your interactions.

Even when you finally become his, it fails to calm the intense storm of jealousy that rages within him. Coriolanus is a man who meticulously weighs the benefits and costs of every action, he believes there’s a reason behind everything you do. In the initial stages of the relationship, he is determined not to reveal that ugly side of his, like everything else it’s all tied to his need of control.

Coriolanus is a man who cannot be left alone with his thoughts. Otherwise he’ll rethink every interaction you’ve had, from how you greeted that one person in the morning with such gleefulness. Are you happier to see them than him? How you placed a hand on someone’s shoulder while sharing a laugh at what he deems a childish joke.

Even the mere mention of past relationships triggers anger in him; he wants to be the first to claim every aspect of you. Unbeknownst to you, even casually mentioning them is signing their death warrant. Their name becomes etched in his memory with plans to be rid of them, especially during his days of presidency.

Coriolanus consistently seeks out boundaries to push, careful to appear that he’s not making demands but rather that he’s looking out for you. He wants you to take his input as truth. When Coriolanus compliments on how red looks good on you, he anticipates seeing it incorporated the next time he sees you. If your hair is long enough, he comments on how it beautifully frames your face when pulled up. He’ll make a comment on how you shouldn’t slouch, resisting a smile at how quickly you heed to his words. 

The day Coriolanus returned from his time at the district, something had changed. He made a promise to return, pressing a searing kiss to your lips and made you promise in return to wait for him no matter how many years it took. True to his word, he has returned with you being his his first stop after Ghul of course. He was still Coriolanus, though no longer did he have his boyish blonde curls and time of training made his muscles defined through his uniform of duty. 

The change became apparent when he became the Plinth’s family heir. No longer did he need to do with the little he had. Bringing you into the Snow mansion and the simple trinkets have turned into luxury. Your wardrobe has already been chosen for you and  filled to the brim, taking notice of how most of its colors are crimson, white-pearled and arctic. Many had intricate patterns, adorned with roses etched into the fabric, complemented by grand rose pins. 

It's advised to acclimate to the Mansion, to embrace it as your new home as that’s where you’ll spend most of your time. Coriolanus isolates you, he now has the power to turn every one of your friends against you and in return, he comforts you, reminding you of his earlier warnings on how your friends seemed indifferent to your well-being. Your visits and calls to your family dwindle as Coriolanus no longer sees a need to remain in their good graces. After all, you are now his wife, a member of the Snow family. 

With your servants and cooks, clear instructions are given; to not speak with you unless it’s relaying a message directly from your husband. If you persistently attempt to speak with them or worse befriend them, they are likely to be replaced. In worse circumstances, if they attempt anything that Coriolanus deems as traitorous, they may be subjected to becoming an Avox; a lesson not only for them but for you as well. 

He, of course, allows you to accompany him to galas; public appearances are deemed necessary; portraying him as a loving husband (a role he genuinely believes in) and you, as a devoted wife. During public appearances, every action is done with caution. Not only are you a reflection of him and the Snow name, but you also soon will become the future lady of Panem. 

You were allowed to be alone with two people only, at least initially; his grandmother and Tigris. It’s unsure if his grandmother notices her grandson’s behavior, still she’ll only speak praises of him. Repeating how fortunate you are to have him as a husband, to marry into their family.

Tigris on the other hand, offers a semblance of solace. She treats you well, yet beneath her kindness, sometimes you discern a glance of sadness, almost pity. Sometimes, she questions if you’re being treated well and you respond with what you’ve been practiced to say. And despite her skepticism, she never presses further, as if understanding that doing so might jeopardize any possibility of being alone with you ever again. 

Coriolanus revels in returning home to you. In his eyes, he believes he has attained everything he desired: the restoration of his family's name to its past glory, the regaining of its respect and prestige. How close he’s to be able to reside over Panem, and finally, having you.

Although you might think he doesn’t notice, he does. He notices how you gaze out of the window, your attempts to reason with him, how you do all you can do to make his day better when wanting your usual favors. He notices the concealed frown when the topic of children is mentioned. He knows when you lie. A promise later on, that he made you swear to never break. 

But he also notices that despite knowing what he has done. Years and years of marriage no longer allow secrets to be concealed. You’re keenly aware of all those who’ve gone missing, including a politician who you recall foolishly making a pass at you. The sores on his lips tell of all those moments you’re never allowed to attend.

Yet, you remain by his side. Perhaps you’ve fully accepted the man he always was - a monster not one that he has become, but who he always was. Even when watching the hunger games, even when you have to stand by him and greet each child you know are sending to their death. Or perhaps in a twisted form of love that mirrors his own, you’ve grown to love him. 

Over the years, there have been moments when you questioned if you were truly safe even with decades of marriage and giving him children who in turn gifted you with grandchildren. However, as you gaze at the man whose youthful looks have faded, who still greets you with a kiss to your hand just as he did in your younger days, you find a sense of security - for now.

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 1 - Side B

firestar art by @kudos-si-do

Propaganda below ⬇️

Kirei

He fucked up so many people's lives so badly in just one decade (not on purpose) that the universe put him in the summoning pool of all world influencing souls. He doesnt really have any special powers but he does serve as a vessel for rasputin at one point. He's the guy who says "people die when they are killed"

please please please there's literally a type moon character in the gif on the top of this form so it's typemoonphobic if none of them get in but it shouldn't be her it should be kirei bc he's 50x funnier & more iconic than jeanne. funny lil murder priest who's fucking THE gilgamesh (from the epic of) in the church basement and dies in a knife fight w a 17 year old whose dad he wanted to fuck back in '94 before realizing that he was actually kinda lame and he's been bitter abt it ever since. he has an orphan torture factory in his basement but he's also canonically good at being a priest. he's so funny you should def try his mapo tofu i swear it's totally safe for human consumption and not made with any california reapers. did i mention he's a deadbeat dad.

Priest claims to be Pro Life to make Sakura Matou the most miserable girl on the planet, but he dies anyway.

bro became a catholic because he loves suffering

He’s a priest. Kind of. Not a very good priest obviously. There is something seriously wrong and fucked up with that man. It’s so entertaining.

he's gotta be one of the most insane catholic men ever with a very in-depth and interesting relationship with his religion and his relationship with god also he's the sexiest man ever to be conceptualized in the known universe and all of time

Will never forget the 40+ minute monologue in heavens feel being a thinly veiled metaphor for abortion

he wants to torment churchgoers and make them face their failures and suffering but all he ends up doing is motivate them to improve themselves. cringefail moment for him

he's absolutely insane. the coldhearted mercenary that barely reacts to anything is terrified of kirei. he's super fucked up. his ult in stay night is literally him channeling divine power into something called kyrie eleison. he's the vessel of rasputin (on account of being a priest with a huge....no i shant say) the biblical beast in grand order among other things. he gets drunk with and tops gilgamesh from the epic of gilgamesh in the church basement after gilgamesh from the epic of gilgamesh bats his eyes a little too hard at kirei in some of the horniest shot scenes ive ever seen. he also used to be a heretical "fixer" for the church, cleaning up scenes that would expose shit to the public. uhh what else. he holds cool swords between his fingers like a kid pretending to be wolverine but in my favorite route he just squares the hell up with the protagonist and they fight to the death outside planned parenthood

Firestar

Kitty jesus, he believes in starclan which is the kitty version of heaven/god and yea. All the warrior cats characters except those outside the clans or those that are atheist believe in the kitty heaven and would irl be bri-ish and christian as hell so. The authors are all older british christian women and so the way starclan is written is like undoubtedly that.

The main religion in the series is extremely catholic coded. Most clan cats believe in Starclan and the Dark Forest(or heaven and hell). There is a set of rule they must uphold and follow, where following them leads to heaven and breaking them leads to hell. Their religious leaders are sworn to celibacy, and the punishments that "code breakers"(or cats who break the rules) face are extremely similar to situations people with religious trauma have gone through.

OP notes: apparently converted to avoid getting his balls cut?? Idk. The discord yet wild for firestar so I had to include him because it's hilarious hehehe