elegantvows-blog

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Hello love!! How are you doing? 💕

I LOVE your works so much!! You are so amazing and talented!! I wanted to thank you for writing the 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 cursed technique Nanami fic, and especially not judging me for it 🫶🏽. I don’t know you but you seem like such a nice and cool person, with that being said… I was thinking about a fic I saw where Saturo Gojo got his wisdom teeth removed and he falls in love with you over again and I thought that would ADORABLE but with Kento 😭 (also I can’t remember who wrote the fic to give credit sorry) So like yeah Nanami would get his wisdom teeth removed and you’d take care of him and he would be such a charming man (he already is) but like just the most fluff thing he’d be like “you’re a very beautiful nurse” “I’m not a nurse but thank you” you feel me? Anyways that was it lol

Much love and take care!! 💗💗

(I don’t know what anon is 😅 is it like your followers cause I see request and people ask if they can be added as anon and I’m like so confused)

You’re my…. my wife?

Tags: Nanami x fem!Reader, established relationship, crack, fluff, suggestive at the end.

An: Hey Anon! Tysm for requesting again. I’m glad you liked the freaky energy fic!! Also, ofc I’ll never judge you for any fic idea (as long as it’s not like straight up deplorable with nasty kinks).

I hope it’s okay, but I changed this fic idea a little because I fear it was a bit too close to the original creator’s idea, and I don’t want to encroach on their idea. However, I hope the vibes are still there that you wanted!!

Your normally strong, doting, intelligent husband has been reduced to a confused mess. Lying in the bed in the sterile infirmary, Shoko carefully monitors his vitals while Satoru recites exactly how it all happened for the nth time.

Your loving, sweet, charming husband was hit with a very specific cursed technique while he was out on a mission with Gojo. Luckily, he was physically unharmed and mostly mentally unharmed as well… except the cursed technique is one that messes with the memory.

The curse didn’t just want to kill Nanami; it wanted to break him. The curse robbed Nanami of his memory of his most precious moments: the one’s that included you.

His hazel eyes scanned the room, wondering why everyone was making such a big fuss over him. He was fine - really.

You sat beside his hospital bed, wanting to hold his hand, but you didn’t want to overwhelm him. Shoko said that his mind may be a bit fragile after having such a crucial part of his memory tampered with.

When his hazel eyes met yours, Nanami stared at you for a moment before shifting in his bed slightly. He looked to be uncomfortable with your sheer presence, which only broke your heart more.

“Were you hit with the cursed technique too?” He finally speaks, looking over at you with a bit of a confused look. He was really trying to piece together why you were here with him.

“Oh, um… no..” You quietly respond with a forced smile. Your heart longed for your husband, and he was right here but he wasn’t your husband.

“Forgive me… Are you Shoko’s apprentice..?” He tries once again to remember. He’s seen your face before. Maybe in a different lifetime.

Satoru and Shoko are silent as they both witness what’s going on between you and Nanami. Holding their breaths, they’re hopeful that he’ll regain his memory at some point. The curse couldn’t just extract memories. As Shoko explained it, the curse probably just kept the memories hidden from Nanami. Your husband will probably slowly start to remember you over time.

“No… I’m not Shoko’s apprentice.” You politely answer again. As bittersweet as this is, it’s certainly a cute scene to see Kento trying to make conversation with you.

“Hm.” He hums to himself quietly before he gazes at you again. His hand combs through his hair, trying to fix it up from lying in the hospital bed, and Satoru quietly snickers.

“Trying to look good for her, Nanamin?” He teases lightheartedly, earning a death glare from your husband. You softly giggle too, realizing what’s going on. Your poor husband isn’t uncomfortable with your presence. He’s nervous.

“Don’t be crude, Satoru. There’s a lady in the room.” He huffs, shaking his head at Satoru’s audacity.

“Aww, thank you, Nanami.” Shoko grins, subtly playing along with Satoru’s tactic.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” Nanami responds flatly before his eyes shift to you in another “secretive” glance, except everyone notices how he keeps looking at you. Your husband can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“I.. apologize for being a bit forward, but do you think we could…” His eyes flicker down to the wedding band that’s proudly sat upon your finger. His face subtly drops to a disappointed look. “Ah, I see. forget what I was saying.”

Shoko and Satoru are nearly losing it. The irony that Nanami is disappointed that he can’t ask you out because you’re married to him is hilarious. You give them a look, and they both quickly excuse themselves from the room, so they can go laugh together.

Once the two are finally out of the room, you smile softly before placing your hand over your husband’s, using your thumb to gently stroke the back of his hand. He looks at you with an unsure look, but he doesn’t remove his hand. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows harshly.

“If you were my wife, I wouldn’t like you touching another man like that…” He mutters quietly, causing you to softly giggle.

“Well, it’s a good thing I am your wife.” You finally reveal to him, unable to keep the secret any longer.

Nanami’s eyes widen, and he looks at you with sparkling eyes but also utter confusion written all over his face. His heart is racing in his chest. The heart monitor starts to beep at a more pressured pace. The pretty woman that has been sitting next to him is his wife…?

“You’re my… my wife?” He asks quietly.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement before lacing your fingers with his. Your wedding band rubs against his. Both of the gems were cut from the same diamond. His eyes then focus on the joining of your hands, and he notices it too. “We’ve been married for a few years now.” You explain in a calm tone, trying to ease him into the idea of it all.

“I… I’m sorry… I don’t-“ Nanami is rarely off kilter like this, but he’s just trying to wrap his head around it all. You’re his wife… You’re his wife. “I’m sorry- I just can’t seem to remember…”

“It’s okay, Ken. Take your time.” You encourage as you rub on his hand gently.

His eyes fall to his lap, and a small smile curls on his lips. He may not completely comprehend what’s going on, but he knows in his very soul that he’s the luckiest man alive because you’re his wife.

Watching Ken fall in love with you all over again and rediscover all his daily pleasures was a treat. He slowly regained his memory over time: prompted by his senses randomly picking up on familiar sighs, smells, or even tastes.

Ken didn’t only fall in love with you all over again. He fell in love with the life he cultivated with you again. He found himself laughing a bit harder. He squeezed you a bit tighter. He lounged in bed for an extra ten minutes in the morning time to bask in your presence.

Oh, and that’s not to mention the literal tears he cried the first time he felt your cherished cunt after the incident. The way you squeezed around him so intensely… the way it’s so fucking wet — greedily sucking him in… Goddamn, he’s so lucky to have you.

[drewsbraziliangf]

nothing to say when heaven falls | Drew Starkey x black!reader

summary: what can you do when the person that’s supposed to understand and be on your side chooses to doubt your fears?

Word count: 1388

a/n: not edited, we die like soldiers!!!!! pls let me know if you wish to be added to my taglist

"How can't you see how disrespectful this is to me, Drew?" You ask with a strained voice and teary eyes. "Everywhere you go she's looming like a shadow."

"She's my friend, what do you want me to do?" Exasperated, he asks.

"I don't know. Maybe tell her that your fiancé doesn't feel comfortable with her following you around, traveling abroad to see you or fuck, being all fucking touchy and handsy with you in public."

My throat was burning as the words slipped my mouth but I simply couldn't avoid it any longer. I am so tired of this whole situation and it has been going on for far too long. I just can't hold it back anymore.

"Can't exactly tell her what to do," he rolled his eyes this time.

"Really? Am I really asking for that much?" I look at the man in front of me with disbelief, "I just want to feel like I'm not invisible in my own goddamn relationship. She sees you more than I do and I am the one with a ring on my finger. How is this fair?" 

"Babe, listen, there's nothing going on between me and her. You have to believe me," he pleads as he runs his hands through his hair.

"You don't think I'm trying to believe you? I'm in the trenches everyday telling myself this over and over again, but how can I turn a blind eye to it when the first thing I see whenever I'm online is that you're both coincidently in the same city. For the millionth time."

I know that pulling this out in the open this way isn't the best option. But how could I keep bottling all of this up when it's causing such a heavy pain in my chest every time I see their names together?

It was always clear the perks of dating a public figure and I never backed out on it. Now seeing the man who asked me to spend the rest of my life with him and have his babies walking around with the woman everyone swears he was romantically involved with is messed up.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he admits as he walks away from me.

That felt like a punch. Because how could I make it anymore obvious? Do I have to draw it to a thirty year old why he should respect the woman he chose to propose to? 

“Are you for real right now?” I asked as I follow him into the kitchen of our shared apartment. “Did you really just said that to me, Joseph?”

At this point it felt like there was no going back anymore, either this was going to be totally fixed here or it wouldn’t at all. The bandaid was ripped and the wound was open and burning.

“How can you be so dull? You really can’t see what the problem here is?” 

I watch as he fills a glass with water and turns his back to me. He did it twice already. The off white walls of the kitchen lacked the warm they always brought when we were in it together. It felt claustrophobic and like the roof was going to fall over our heads at any given minute.

“You’re acting like I’m cheating on you. Like this is some major fuck up. It isn’t, you’re turning it into something it isn’t.” His tone was cold but looking at his posture it was clear that he was trying to maintain his calm.

The condescending tone in his voice made me want to shrink into myself and hide away from the world.

“Oh, right. Yeah, blame it on me for thinking that my fiancé going out of his way to be with his ex fuck buddy isn’t normal.”

“Careful,” he warns once finally looks at me.

“Or what, Drew? What else could you possibly do that will make me feel worse than I already do?” I challenge, my gaze locked on him as I wait.

After a few minutes of us staring down at each other, he shakes his head and sighs. 

“I’m not doing whatever this is. I’m done entertaining this,” he declares and he leans against the countertop.

Drew and I met around two years ago through a mutual friend. We instantly hit off and after a few dates, he officially asked me to be his girlfriend - which I obviously accepted. We had this instant connection that isn’t common. At first I was terrified of it, I knew who he was and the fact that his life was always being scrutinized by thousands of people. I knew what people said online about him and as we got closer and closer I couldn’t help but lose myself in the speculations about him even more.

Our relationship was great and we always made sure that each others boundaries were respected, so color me stoked to be in this situation right now. I am not dumb and every single day there is a needle pinching me making me think of stuff and situations like the one we find ourselves right now just indulge those thoughts.

In the early days of our relationship we made sure there were no secrets between us and past relationships. I knew I was his first black girlfriend, I knew he was born and raised in the South too. So joining that and the fact that I am an immigrant did make me scared of a lot of things, the main of them being the fact that it isn’t uncommon at all for men to always find their way back to that they are used to. 

So seeing her upon him all the time while people online barely know about our relationship feels like hell. Because even though I’m in family pictures that his sisters post online, and the very visible ring on my finger I am never considered the option of being his significant other. She is. Every single time. And he never did anything about it - hell, he never even set boundaries with her and she knows that we’re together. Am I really reading too much into things? 

Being three months away from our wedding day, this isn’t the kind of thought or conversations I would like to be having. I should be fucking excited and dress hunting, but lately the only thing that I feel like doing is swallowing lumps and holding back tears, faking smiles and pretending I’m fine. I’m not, I’m fucking falling apart and I’m so tired of begging to be seen. 

“I don’t know how else to tell you that I am not comfortable with this and that you shouldn’t be either,” I point out as the first tear cross the edges of my cheeks. “I don’t know how else to ask you to respect our relationship.”

“I respect our relationship, I always did. I just don’t think that what you’re saying right now makes any sense. Whatever I had with her in the past is over.” He says as he runs one of his hands through his face.

“Drew, honey, you’re not seeing things from my point of view. Imagine if it was me catching planes every other day to be with someone that I was involved in with in the past. And all of our friends know that you and I are together. How would that make you feel?”

At that he says nothing but silence can mean many things, and in this case it means consent. 

Tired of this back in forth conversation, I reach for my phone that was besides his on the counter and as if the timing couldn’t be more right, the screen of his phone lights up with an incoming call. No surprise flashes through my features as I see the picture on the caller id, both of them in a mirror picture as they brush their teeth.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I confess watching as he reaches for his phone quickly declining the call. “Not when you’re up to your eyeballs into whatever this is. I’ll make the calls tomorrow and cancel the dates with the venue.”

I grab my phone and my purse and I walk towards the front door before he can say anything else, I’m closing it behind me. 

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 28: lucky charm

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

You were sitting, waiting, next to your companion Spencer. It was a small waiting room with stiff chairs and flickering lights, creating a tense and cold atmosphere. Spencer was beside you, his leg bouncing up and down without rest. You could hear the rhythmic sound of his shoe hitting the floor, something that would undoubtedly earn him a few curious looks from those nearby. However, he seemed completely oblivious, focused on his own nervousness.

Every so often, his hand would move up to his mouth to nibble at his nails, a habit you knew he hated, which made you suspect he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. The slight tremor in his fingers and the tension in his jaw confirmed what was dominating his mind.

"Reid, it looks like you're about to have an anxiety attack. Are you okay?" you asked in a gentle whisper, trying to make him feel understood and not judged.

"Nervous," he replied, sounding exactly that way. Although he tried to sound relaxed, the truth slipped out with each word, as if he were trying to contain a sea of thoughts that only continued to grow.

You had both traveled to Chicago to give a lecture—or rather, for him to give a lecture—about your work. It was an important opportunity, and it was understandable that he was anxious. The pressure of speaking before an audience, representing both your work, and answering complex questions, rested entirely on his shoulders.

"You’ll do great; you always do," you said confidently, wanting to offer him the reassurance he couldn’t give himself.

"That’s not true. I know a lot of things, but when I try to verbalize them in front of an audience, everything seems to evaporate around me. I need to avoid eye contact, and that's not socially acceptable. I'll just look like a freak..." he said, lowering his gaze. His tone was one of complete frustration.

"Come on, calm down. No one is going to see you that way. You’re the expert on the topic," you insisted, trying to instill a bit of self-confidence in him. You moved a little closer, watching his expression shift between fear and concentration.

"But I get so nervous! And then I start to stammer and... ugh, it’s a disaster," he exclaimed, bringing both hands up to cover his face, embarrassed and frustrated. His fingers covered his cheeks as he closed his eyes, as if trying to shield himself from the world.

You laughed softly and reached out your hands toward his, gently moving them away from his face to reveal his features bit by bit. When you managed to see his face again, you noticed the blush spreading across his cheeks, perhaps due to the contact. It was a sweet expression, so natural in him, and you were surprised by the vulnerability he let you see in those moments.

"Do you want me to do it? You know I don’t mind. But I’m afraid people won’t get specific data or intellectual answers from me."

"I can do it," he assured you with a slight smile, though he didn’t sound the least bit convinced. "I just need to calm down, breathe..."

"Want a Xanax? I have a quarter tablet in my purse," you said jokingly, though you knew you actually had one. His laugh was immediate, and for a moment, his tension seemed to dissolve.

You both sat in silence for a while, and although he didn’t say so, you knew he was still worried. You wanted to do something for him, to lighten his load a little. In an attempt to make him feel better, you suggested he practice his speech with you, and he seemed agreeable to the idea.

When he started to speak, his gaze locked onto yours, but he soon realized his mistake. He had to look you in the eyes, and that only made him more nervous. The softness in your expression, the way you watched him so attentively... anyone in his place would have had a hard time, too.

You were very pretty; anyone could notice that, and he, of all people, couldn’t ignore it. However, the effort to speak in front of you also served as an exercise in resilience. If he could present his points to you, he could do so to any audience.

Despite his efforts, he failed. The words seemed to tangle in his throat, and in the end, he let out a defeated sigh.

"I’ll do it however I can. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m just here to present data, not to be pleasing to the eye," he muttered, lowering his head.

"Listen," you said, in a final attempt to make him feel better. "I have this; I always carry it with me because it relaxes me to touch the crystals. Use it."

You held out a bracelet full of purple quartz, adorned with a few artificial pink and gold stones. The piece had a warm touch, and you had carried it with you for years.

"Did you know that, according to esoteric beliefs, amethysts provide mental and emotional calm? They’re thought to help promote inner peace and emotional balance, relieving anxiety and stress."

"You see? It’s perfect for you. It’s like my lucky charm. It’ll help you feel secure; I promise," you told him, and the affectionate tone in your words made him blush as you took his hand to leave the item with him. You noticed how his fingers trembled slightly under your touch.

Spencer felt each part of the bracelet, lingering on the softness of each stone, almost as if hoping the luck and calm you mentioned would somehow transfer to him. Then, gently, he placed it on his wrist, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye and smiling in gratitude.

"Are you going to be here in the back? Or out front?" he asked, a bit more relaxed.

"Right next to you," you murmured with a smile. "Hotch sent me as eye candy for the old perverts. Remember?"

"That’s not true," he objected, with an offended expression. "You’re coming with me because you’re an exemplary agent."

"Oh, don’t think it only applies to me. Women will also pay attention just because a handsome man is speaking."

He looked at you with narrowed eyes and shook his head gently, as if scolding you for your comments, though you knew they amused him.

Someone from the staff called for you both to go on, and that was the end of it. Spencer walked the entire way clutching the amethyst hanging from his wrist, and after taking a deep breath, he seemed to transform completely once he appeared on stage. His gaze took on a new determination, and although you still noticed a slight stiffness in his shoulders, it was clear that the bracelet had given him some of the confidence he needed.

That bracelet never returned to your hands; you preferred him to keep it, as he seemed to have found in it a source of calm. Spencer kept it close, and whenever there was an important event, he made sure to wear it. Although, in reality, without knowing it, his true lucky charm had always been you.

[bratzbrat]

✞The Witch Hunter!

pairing: a Witch!Hunter! Katsuki Bakugo x fem!reader.

synopsis: In Solgrad elementalists are feared and hunted, Katsuki Bakugo, a notorious witch hunter, captures you—a skilled water manipulator from Mistralis. Bound together by fate, the two of you embark on a tense journey to bring you to trial, facing rogue witches, devastated villages, and uncovering buried truths about the complex history between humans and magic. As conflicts rise, both must confront their beliefs in a tale of duty, survival, and change.

cw: starts off slow but picks up at the end! | violence! | mature language! | female reader! |

1.1k words!

ΝϴͲᎬ: I'm excited to see where this goes and hope you are too. initially I had zero intentions of posting a multi part series here, but I'm proud of what my brain threw up. so enjoy!

⊰𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞⊱ »»————>The Ambush!

"welcome, everyone, to your first water manipulation class!" you beamed, excited to teach the new year fledglings. "today, we're just going to cover the basics: how to control and shape water using your body and intentions." you preached, pacing up and down in front the classroom of teenagers, "remember, it's all about focus and visualization. can anyone tell me the three states of water?"

you smiled, pointing to three people who shot their hands up and as your finger landed on them they answered.

"liquid"

"solid!"

"gas!"

"exactly! now, let's start with the simplest. liquid. I want you to close your eyes and picture a body of water. it could be a lake, a river, or even a glass of water. focus on its movement. feel how it flows and ripples."

you glanced around the room, making sure everyone was engaged. "now, let's see a demonstration. watch closely."

you walked over to a large bowl filled with water at the front of the class. taking a deep breath, you extended your hands over the surface, palms facing down. as you concentrated, moving your hand up and down, fingers bending to mimick moving water. the water began to ripple gently, responding to your motions. with a flick of your wrist, you raised your hand, and a small stream of water rose from the bowl, forming a delicate arc in the air.

"see how it follows my movements? now, i want you to try. and remember, it’s about your connection with the water. don't force it—let it flow." the first student to volunteer their demonstration walked up. a petite girl with long black hair and luscious lashes.

as she was about to give her demonstration, a loud alarm blared throughout the school, and your students jumped in surprise, their faces turning pale as they panicked.

"witch hunters! lady y/n! witch hunters have infiltrated the school grounds!" a young boy announced as he heaved for breath, leaning against the classroom's entrance.

"stay calm!" you shouted, trying to keep the anxious kids focused. "and single file! we may need to defend the school!"

you rushed outside into the courtyard, where chaos was going down. your students followed behind you, like ducklings follow their mama.

a group of witch hunters had breached the walls, armed with weapons designed to counter your kind. you glanced at the nearby water fountains, drawing in a deep breath.

"okay, everyone! what better time to learn a new skill than being in battle!?" you shouted out to your students. "focus on the water coming from those fountains! form it into the first weapon you can think of and exhale to freeze it in shape! follow my lead!"

you pointed towards the fountains and the water overflowed from them. it froze instantly as you exhaled and concentrated it into, sharp, glistening ice arrows. "aim for their weapons and create distractions! do not engage in close combat if you value your life!" you warned.

and you took your first shot, releasing an ice arrow that struck the nearest witch hunter in his shoulder. "keep it up! we can drive them back!" and you quickly turned to form another, your heart racing for your class.

the students rallied, their own weapons joining you as the courtyard turned into a battlefield, with flashes of students and teachers fighting for their lives.

a sudden pressure weighed down your shoulders as a figure emerged from the dust caused by the earth users. his carmine eyes, locking onto yours, as his brows furrowed in a nasty scowl. based on the way he carried himself and the fact that you didn't sense him until now, said plenty. this guy, is crazy strong.

and you couldn't help but smirk, knowing he had singled you out. you are one of the greatest water users after all.

"you really think you can protect them?!" he shouted, pointing his blade toward you, then to the few students cowering behind you. he stooped low, like a track runner, holding his balde behind him, and it sent a thrill down your spine.

"yes." you confirmed, forming another arrow with a swish of two fingers, starting from the tip of your left hand, all the way back to your cheek. "you're gonna need more than that to take me down." your head motioned to his sword as you pulled the arrow back on your liquid bow and launched it at him, to which he dodged with ease.

he closed the distance, and you braced yourself, excitement coursing through you as you engaged in a hand-to-hand battle. you traded blows, each one landing harder than the previous ones.

"not bad." you teased, trying to keep him off balance. "is that all you've got?"

"thought you'd never ask," he growled, landing a solid punch to your side that knocked the breath from your lungs. "you won't win."

"who says i'm trying to?" you shot back, pulling together the last of your energy to create a sharp ice dagger. you lunged forward, dagger tightly gripped in your hand, aiming for his side, but he sidestepped your attack, grabbing your wrist and twisting it until the dagger clattered to the ground.

"you're outmatched," he sneered, flipping you over his shoulder and slamming you into the stone courtyard floor. pinned beneath him, you struggled, frustration picking at your brows and exhilaration bubbling within you.

"you think this is over?" you smirked, locking eyes with him, confidence unwavering. "you're in for the real fight now." you held your breath and listened for his heart, it's steady beating, so beautifully timed. you felt the blood that rushed out with every pump and with a crack of your fingers, he released you. his limbs moving in awkward forced motions as he fought against you.

"th-the fuck–" he groaned, watching his own body betray him. "you witch! you're a blood manipulator!" he yelled through his gritted teeth.

"astute observation, mr. hunter." you snickered. though blood manipulation was the strongest trick up your sleeve, in your weakened state you struggled to keep a hold on him. and your nose started bleeding. "fuck." you muttered, wiping at it with the back of your wrist.

"what's the matter witch? that all you got?" he bit back as he felt his control over his body slowly return. "what happened to that 'real fight' ya' mentioned?" and taunted as you fell to your knees.

"get fucked..." you hissed, looking up at him towering over you. he walked behind you, sending out a series of long drawn out whistles, all in one tone.

" 'm gonna love removin' this pretty head from your body." he snarled, grabbing your hair in a handful.

"aw, you think I'm pretty?" you mocked, spitting at his face. he didn't even flinch. he shoved your head forward as he released you and stood up, striding behind you once more.

"you fuckin' wish." he grimaced, inhaling a sharp breath before he knocked you unconscious with the hilt of his sword.

you've made it to the end of the prologue! thanks for reading and I hope you look forward to more!

chapter 2!

comment ur user if you want to be tagged in the next part ♡

lots of love↓

©𝐵𝑙𝑢♡

[fairsweetlonging]

have been in a qijiu/qiyuan mood lately, and i was thinking about an au where shen yuan, upon transmigrating, actually loses his memories. he wakes up and has no idea who he is, where he is, who the man at his bedside is. not a clue. the only thing he has is his muscle memory, his sharp recognition senses (he's experiencing a lot of déjà-vu), and blurry fractions of memories that he can't quite make out.

thing is, the memories of both shen yuan and shen jiu aren't actually gone, they start to intermingle, to mix up, a little sister in princess pajamas beside an older brother wearing dirty rags, a bright screen that displays mountain peaks and glittering caves. he's kind and generous the way someone who has never had to worry about food or money is, but he gets vicious and defensive when someone gets too close. sometimes he says cruel things and doesn't even understand why himself.

neither identity fits anymore, both names right and wrong at the same time. it's just... shen qingqiu.

and while everyone else might adjust to this just fine, yue qingyuan does not. because that is shen jiu, but it isn't, but it has to be, but not always. he gets flashes of his childhood friend when shen qingqiu gets viciously defensive over nothing, when he scowls and scoffs and rolls his eyes when he thinks people can't see, but then he smiles, and laughs, and tilts his head in a way that is completely foreign. he likes beasts. shen jiu never liked beasts. but he loves tanghulu, like shen jiu. sweet sugary things. the first time xiao jiu cuddles up into his hug, he cries.

the way he sometimes clings to yue qingyuan when he has a bad day can't be him, but then he says "qi-ge" exactly like shen jiu would and damn near snarls at anyone who gets too close, and he's aggressively possessive the way he was when they were kids. but then he pulls away and apologizes, like shen jiu would never do.

and he never demands anything, scrubbed clean from roughness and filth and selfish want, will act perfect and smiling and pleasant, never burdensome. like he's completely forgotten where he came from, what he was. like the pampered nobleman's son who could afford to be kind. the only time his old self comes fully back up is when he feels threatened or scared or angry, like a trauma response that kicks in to protect himself. and then yue qingyuan starts to wonder if maybe it is. maybe the shen jiu he knows was only ever fear and self-preservation, and the one he is now is a shen jiu without the chains and shackles and scars.

yue qingyuan doesn't know if he's happy for him, if it's for better or for worse. he does know that he feels protective and responsible for this new version xiao jiu has become.

meanwhile shen qingqiu, even when he regains enough of his memories to realize he was once a different person, doesn't know who he is anymore. both, maybe. or neither. he feels bad for taking away yue qingyuan's friend, but in his heart he can't help but think qi-ge is his brother, and no one else's. when he manages the peak he feels like he's taking credit for another's accomplishments, but he remembers suffering for it, he remembers what it took to get there.

[maeedrg]

Satoru, Oh Satoru

Y/n’s goodbye letter

ᯓ★

Synopsis : In which you write and send a letter to your ex fiance, Gojo Satoru, before his deathly battle with Sukuna. Broken promise, he wishes to see you again, the love of his life, one last time before it’s too late. [The letter is the Mary’s goodbye letter to Arthur Morgan from RDR2]

Words count : 2k

Warnings : heavy angst, slight comfort, major character death, spoilers of the end of the manga, reader is called « wife » once.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : I love Red Dead Redemption 2, and the letter of Mary is haunting me. It’s been weeks since I wanted to write about it, so here we go, with Gojo instead of Arthur Morgan ! English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes.

“My dear Satoru,

You never showed up, and now, after looking at the newspapers I understand why. I don't imagine you will receive this letter but I nonetheless must send it.

Satoru, oh, Satoru. I was just starting to dream the silliest and softest of dreams. I miss you, and I will always miss you but I cannot live like that, and it seems you cannot live any other way.

When I am with you, the world makes sense but when we are apart, I see clearly that your world is not a world from which one can escape. I am so sorry, for everything, for everything long ago and for leaving you. There's a vulnerable man within you, Satoru, but he is wrestling with a giant. And the giant, wins, time and again. You've broken my heart, again, and I fear I have broken yours.

For that, I will never forgive myself but you must let me go now. I enclose a ring you gave me many years ago, when we were both young, not because I don't like it, but because I care for it far too much and it reminds me too much of you. I hope, one day you will find some people in love who can use this, for it kept me thinking of you all these years, and I hope by returning it to you I can finally be free. So please, win, and come out alive.

Goodbye.

y/n”

Are those water drops ?

Satoru blinks once, twice, before realizing that tears roll down his rosy cheeks and wet down the paper. He slowly opens his mouth in a shuddering breath, knuckles tightening against the letter he was holding in his hands. He is crying, Gojo Satoru is crying. Heavens know that this man almost never cried since the day he was born. But the way his heart was hurting so much, each breath being a stabbing inhale, as if a dag was slicing open his lungs and cutting into pieces his poor sweet damaged heart, confirm it. Yes, he cries. He cries this forgotten moment, he cries you, he cries your love, lost in the nostalgia he feels.

The Strongest, no, Satoru, never thought he would lose the love of his life twice. The first time was when you left him years ago, three more exactly, and God it was his own damn fault. He knows it more than anyone else, more than you.

The second was today, when he opened this letter you sent him and read it 5, 6, 12, 23 times. Hell, at first he thought he was hallucinating when he received it this morning. Why ? Why today ? The day he was supposed to have no single regrets, because he knew it would be the last time he would be on earth. He prayed that you forgot about him, hated him, cursed him in your soul forever, so he could die without your and any regrets.

23rd of December. Tomorrow, it will be the 24th. Please, please, please. He doesn’t want to die now. Will he really win ? That was just a sentence said to reassure himself, to convince his students and his own heart that everything will be alright. But the “what if” came along, and he ended up writing letters to his students in case he would indeed lose tomorrow. Including you. His long lost love. His ex fiance.

But for fuck’s sake, he didn’t expect you to send him one before he could even finish writing yours.

That hurts, so damn much. Was he even breathing anymore ? He didn’t know. But he had to breathe, everyone wanted him to breathe and to stand up. They needed him. Everyone needed him. But all he wanted, in the end, was for you to need him. Even if he told you the contrary years ago. That was all a lie, to you and himself. Satoru made you leave him, but that was for your sake.

Marrying The Strongest meant having a deadly bounty on your head, the end of your peaceful love, and maybe the end of your own life. He never really regretted what he did, he preferred for you to be safe and sound, away from him. Even if he missed your pretty eyes, your oh so sweet lips, the warmth of your soul and the comfort of your arms.

But now, some hours before his last day on earth, he regretted it more than anything. In the end, he would have wanted to spend his last years in your company if it meant having this kind of death. God, he could have called you his wife. He wasn’t dumb, Satoru was far too smart for his own good. Tomorrow will be his last. There was no need to be delusional about it, but it hurts. It hurts so much. More than he wanted it to be. The Strongest never gets hurt, after all. Because he doesn’t allow it to happen.

He kisses the ring, the engagement ring, he gave you years ago before you returned it to him in this letter. He slowly closes his watery eyes, biting the inside of his mouth, lost in thoughts. He wanted to feel your lips against his one last time. He wanted to be in your arms one last time. He wanted to hear your name coming out of your mouth one last time. He just wanted to see you, before his battle against Sukuna. Was he egoistical to want that, after everything that happened in between the two of you, after the letter you sent ?

“I just… don’t care anymore,” he muttered, standing back up and softly sliding your letter against his still beating heart.

Seeing you was his last wish. May it be granted.

Some minutes after, barely 20, he was in front of your door. It was an unholy hour to grant you a visit, the clock ticking 11.58 PM. In two minutes it would be his official last hours on earth, Christmas Day. If Santa Claus was real, then you were the biggest gift he could ask for.

The moment you open your door, sleepy eyes, greasy pajamas, and then face distorting in utter disbelief when staring at your ex fiance standing right in front of you, time stops. Satoru couldn’t believe his own eyes. His Six eyes were useless, his soul was already screaming to him that the person in front of him was the love of his life.

“Satoru… ?” you whisper, unable to know if you were dreaming, or not. He died a little when he finally heard his name slipping out of your lips after so many years.

You can’t even utter another word, that his large frame is on you. His strong arms wrap around your body, cradling you in the depth of his chest and undying love for you. He inhales, you smell the same as he remembers. Oh, sweet Lord, how he missed this. He felt his heart beating again, his lungs working finally normally, he was breathing. Yes, he was breathing. Thanks to you. He never felt more alive in this moment. What a duality. A cruel duality.

“I did read your letter. Let me say my goodbyes to you too, y/n. One last time, I beg you,” he murmurs in the crook of your neck. Gojo Satoru never begs. Yet, here he was, ready to go on his knees like he did when he proposed to you, to implore one last blessing moment in your presence.

Your feelings were conflicted, you were in the arms of the man that broke your heart, and from whom you just made your goodbyes. Maybe that was mean of you, to send this letter the day before his battle against Sukuna. When you saw it on the news, you understood that it would be maybe your last time being able to reach to him. You told him what you needed to say. For you, that was final. But one thing that you didn’t take accountability for, was his soul wrenching love for you. And, in this small moment of peace before war, you decided to indulge in his vulnerability, no, yours. Wait, both of you were more vulnerable than you could ever be again.

“Satoru.”

“I missed you,” he whispers as he slowly lift his head, blue glossy eyes meeting yours intimately. Tears, rolling down. You couldn't fathom it.

“I’m so, so, oh so sorry. Do you forgive me for breaking your heart ?” His voice is like a whimper, and you feel a part of your soul breaking at his pleading. Your lips quiver.

“Yes, Satoru. And do you forgive me too for breaking yours ?”

“I never resented you,” he closes his eyes saying that, leaning his forehead against yours. That was unspoken, but you understood the depth of his words. After all, you knew him better than anyone else. He made you leave him, on purpose, and you were aware why he did that. You indeed left, he watched you doing it, unable to stop this tragedy from happening, because you both knew that marrying each other would have been probably the biggest dream and nightmare of your life. You both broke each other's hearts that day.

“I never did too,” you answer, closing your eyes.

“I love you, you know that, right ? Always did."

“I love you, Satoru. I know that you do. And…” you both open back your eyes at the same time, “I realize that loving you was my greatest curse, but your eyes grant me mercy. In them I see the salvation of my soul, but I know that your heart has already cursed me,” you finish in a breath coming from the depth of your being.

Two tears roll down at your answer. One from your eye, one from his. He sniffs, unable to suppress his emotions, and then slowly take out of his pocket two objects. First, a letter, bigger than the one you wrote him. It was unfinished, he didn’t have the time to. He softly puts it in the crook of your hand.

“Read it if I’m gone, if I’m not, then give it back to me in person," he asks you, his pearly white lashes getting wet from the tears in his eyes. You both knew deep in your hearts that you would never be able to give it back to him. Yet, you force a smile on your face.

“I promise.”

The second object, was your engagement ring. Satoru knew it was oh so egoistical of him to give it back, when you send it attached to the letter this morning. He refused to keep it. He still had his on his finger, he wanted you to keep it too.

You said in your letter that you refused to keep it anymore because you cared for it far too much and it reminded you too much of him. Satoru wanted you to remember him. He was sure that when he will die, people would forget about him, and move on. He came to accept that fact. People only cared about the farthest and the greatest grand Gojo Satoru, The Strongest. Once death would take this title from him, he would have nothing left, aside from you.

“Only you can carry my love. Never forget that. You said that you hope by returning it to me you can finally be free. For my christmas gift, let me take your freedom,” he pleads, no, begs. His hand was shaking as he gently slid back the ring on your finger, it was his ultimate wish.

A sob escapes your lips. You cursed him for doing that to you. But how could you be mad, when granting the death wish of your long lost fiance ? You look back at the shiny ring, and remember how you blessed Heavens the day he proposed to you. It hurts to know that you never had the chance to call him your husband. Your love was doomed from the beginning. The world was cruel, so cruel.

“I’ll feel alive as long as I’m in your heart, may you never forget me,” he finishes, tangling his fingers in yours.

His left hand cradles your cheek, and you slowly lean towards him. His lips melt against yours, in this final goodbye, last kiss, last shared moment, heart to heart beating in sync. Your souls intertwined, and Satoru wished he could just die right now in your arms, in the sweetness of your lips and warmth of your love.

“In another life, Satoru. In another life we’ll marry and love each other how we wanted to, just not in this one,” you whisper like a secret to the world against his lips. He smiles through the tears.

“I’ll gladly die with a smile, now.” At least he could die the same day as Geto Suguru, one year after him, joining him in death. At least he could die knowing you loved him no matter what. At least he could die knowing that in his next life he could be by your side, again.

You never forgot him. You kept the ring on your finger, until your last breath and till death do you part. It did.

THE END

[malk1ns]

october 29 2024 vs wild, 5-3 loss

inspired by sid having the game of his life tonight after being absolutely miserable for two weeks, and the fact that multiple times i saw him skate to the dot to take a faceoff, look over and make significant prolonged eye contact with geno without either of them saying a single thing, and then them starting off some play that shouldn't have worked but did.

i do think i want to write more in this, expand it a little with worldbuilding and what comes next. not sure when that might happen but watch this space!

Sid’s barely dressed after his post-game shower when Kevin grabs him and hauls him out of the change room.

“What—” Sid protests, because he’s fine, he didn’t take any bad hits tonight, his wrist feels better than it has all season, and if the trainers force him into doing a bunch of postgame testing he’s going to be late for drinks. Kris had booked the back room at Meat & Potatoes, just for the four of them like old times, and Sid was looking forward to having a few and swapping stories about the good old days with the guys he started his career with before Flower has to head out.

Except, when Kevin gestures Sid into his office, Geno’s there too, still damp from his own shower and looking just as baffled as Sid feels.

Well, at least they’ll both be late.

“So,” Kevin says, shutting the door and circling around to sit behind his desk, steepling his fingers and staring at the two of them. Sid doesn’t need to look over at Geno to know exactly the skeptical face he’s making. Kevin seems nice, is clearly very good at his job considering how well his plans have been working for the two of them, but he’s not Stewie, never will be, and they don’t know him yet. “When were you going to disclose that the two of you bonded?”

Sid sits bolt upright in his chair, and next to him he can feel Geno do the same. The game tonight replays itself in his mind, the way all his faceoffs felt simple, the way his wrists didn’t hurt, the way he and Geno would look at each other before starting a play and just know what the plan was, no words needed.

Other things slide into place, too. The way they’ve been asking Sully with increasing urgency to let them play on a line at even strength more. The way Sid knew without anyone having to tell him that Geno needed a visit down in Miami during the worst of his contract negotiations. The way Geno seemed to call every time Sid was feeling down about his own upcoming extension this summer, without fail.

The way Sid really can feel Geno next to him, knows what face Geno’s making because he can feel an echo of that expression over his own. The double-time heartbeat faint in his chest, foreign but familiar like it’s been there for years, waiting to be recognized.

The panic he’s feeling expands, and Sid realizes it’s Geno’s he’s feeling. He turns to the side, meeting Geno’s gaze and takes a deep breath, holding it for a count of three before letting it out slowly.

Geno mimics him, syncing their breathing as he watches Sid with wide eyes, and with that, the last piece fits itself into the puzzle, and the acknowledged bond flares between them, bright and loud enough that Sid feels dizzy.

He’s unable to break eye contact with Geno, thoughts and feelings and memories jangling between them as the bond tries its best to settle and stabilize, and it’s comforting, knowing that everything he’s feeling, every ounce of confusion and fear, is so intimately understood. He’s not alone in this.

The more alarming part, Sid thinks, is how right that feels, that it’s Geno this happened with. He should be terrified, he should be furious, he should be raging at Kevin and demanding an explanation, insisting on the best bond specialist the team can track down be flown in to examine what’s managed to happen without either of them knowing.

He isn’t, though. And neither is Geno.

Fuck.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Some popular theories floating around on why Galadriel jumped off the cliff, and why I don’t agree with them:

1) “Galadriel jumped off the cliff to protect Nenya”

I used to think so myself, but this hypothesis doesn’t make any sense. Sauron could easily go down there and take Nenya for himself, without Galadriel being able to stop him (since she would be R.I.P.).

Sauron isn’t a physical being, he’s a immortal spirit who belongs, up and foremost, to the Unseen world; he can walk invisible (because he’s a spiritual being), and between the Seen and the Unseen world. He can choose his physical form in the Seen world (that’s the whole deal with “Halbrand is Sauron” in Season 2; Halbrand is one of Sauron’s physical forms).

He’s also a powerful sorcerer (versed in both Ainur and Dark magic) and a necromancer who can literally command the dead (Season 2 already introduced this). Sauron doesn’t need to walk all the way down from the cliff to get Nenya.

Meaning: her jumping off the cliff, and mortally damaging her body would only allow Sauron to get Nenya for himself, faster. She wasn’t protecting the ring, at all, by throwing herself off a cliff into her death. And Galadriel is aware of all of this; Sauron’s reputation is well-known by the Elves, that’s why they fear him so.

Gil-galad, Elrond and Arondir show up, and Sauron is pissed. Do you think three elves were going to stop Sauron from getting Nenya? Not only that but Gil-galad also has Vilya. Sauron had two of the Three Elven rings of power within his reach, but was too shocked to do something about it. So, no, there has to be another explanation.

2) “Galadriel jumped off the cliff because she would rather die than join Sauron”

Galadriel is a immortal spirit; her body can die, but her spirit can’t. This hypothesis would only make sense if Galadriel believed her spirit would pass onto the Halls of Mandos (Valinor), where she would cleanse for a time until she resurrected and was reunited with her physical form again, dwelling in Valinor.

You known, the place she refused to go back in Season 1 because she wanted to hunt down Sauron, because she believed her task on Middle-earth is not yet complete? So this plan of action doesn’t only seems odd, but OOC.

If Galadriel knows her “mission” on Middle-earth is not over, and she spent the entirety of Season 2 talking about why the Elves need to stop Sauron and safe Middle-Earth from his tyranny as the new Dark Lord, why would she want to die at the end of the season, exactly?

There’s more foreshadowing over the season of her succumbing to Sauron, than of her dying in the process or whatever (one line about sacrifice).

Sauron is literally “in” in 2x08, and she succumbs, she’s about to actually join him, of her own free will, because that’s her heart’s true desire. Her believing that Sauron deceived her and everything between them (including his offer in 1x08) was a lie, and a scheme on his part, were the only reasons stopping her from actually joining him. Many might not like it, nor understand it (mostly because they whitewash Galadriel’s character), but this is what Season 2 has been building up to.

And Galadriel’s immortal spirit wasn’t passing over to the Halls of Mandos, but to the Unseen world (“shadow realm”). Sauron’s true realm, and where he could have her and no one from the Seen world (Elves, Dwarves and Men) could do anything about it.

Meaning: Galadriel killing her physical body, would only allow Sauron to get her soul way faster. Because her body is like a prison to her soul (she’s bound to it); the moment her body dies, her soul is set free, and pretty much within Sauron’s grasp. And he could still get Nenya.

No, none of these hypotheses are “it”. There must be another reason. And that’s Nenya. The ring of power refusing to surrender itself to Sauron makes perfect sense.

And 2x08 foreshadowed something of this sort happening:

And this is why “Sauron holding Feänor’s hammer” is the last shot of him in Season 2. He’s already planning on forging a master ring to control all the others, and bind them to his will.

Sauron’s poem and the inscription of the ring: One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them.

Sauron spent a lot of his power into forging the One, and placed a part of his soul into this object. That’s why he would always be able to rise to power if the One Ring wasn’t destroyed. He can’t die because he’s immortal, and one of the forces that first shaped the world. His magical imprint is everywhere.

The Three Elven rings of power feed of Sauron’s power. But they don’t bind their ring-bearers to his will, like the Seven, nor enslave them like the Nine. We know this from Tolkien legendarium. The Three lose their power once the One Ring gets destroyed and Sauron is left weak and diminished, unable to regain his former strength. After the One is destroyed, the Three are nothing more than pieces of jewelry (no longer magical artifacts).

“Rings of Power” provided an explanation as to why this is: we see repentant Mairon (aka Halbrand) working with Celebrimbor. He spent weeks handling that piece of mithril; and I already talked about this in this post.

The Three Elven rings hold Mairon’s essence, and the qualities he had when he was first created by Eru himself as a Maia of Aulë (before he was corrupted by Morgoth): purity of heart, loyalty, beauty, order, creation and perfection. This is why we see the “Eye of Sauron” making an appearance when the alloy for the Three is being mixed:

And Season 2 already made a nod to this:

But this wasn’t Celebrimbor at all; this is powerful Ainur magic, that only one of the Ainur could conjure: and that’s Mairon. “Perfection” was one of his contributions to the shaping of the world, in the Ainulindalë (“Music of the Ainur”), after all.

This is why Galadriel and Elrond will use the power of their rings to “beautify” their kingdoms, Rivendell and Lothlórien (especially Galadriel). And this is why the Three have healing properties: healing Middle-earth is Mairon’s goal (before he fell back into evil, and embraced the "Sauron" persona in Season 2), and that’s the intent he transferred into the Three (for the Seven he only needed to infused the mithril with spells, too). This is “Rings of Power” building on Tolkien’s lore.

Sauron knows that his power is connected to the Three. So, having one of these rings of power resist him, left him shocked. And that’s why he doesn’t go down the cliff, and that’s why he just doesn’t snatch Nenya out of Galadriel’s hands (he knows the ring belongs to her). He’s a control freak and a mastermind who’s ten steps ahead of everyone else, and this was a blow on his masterplan.

We know that the One Ring has a “will of its own”, but what if this is true for the Three Elven rings of power, as well?

Nenya refusing to surrender to Sauron’s will, not only makes sense with Tolkien’s lore, but kicks out the events of Season 3: Sauron waging war on the Elves go get the Three for himself (Lindon), and Sauron forging the One to bind all the rings of power to his will.

[sadistic-kiss]

Use Me (Kinktober Fic)

Succubus Reader x Various JJK Men

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Six.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

During the slight hesitation people were considering that it wouldn’t happen, almost laughing at the idea as if they didn’t want to see it.

You wouldn’t go that far.

They whispered tauntingly. As if this were all up to you and not the three men whose minds were turning as rapidly as their growing cocks.

Would she degrade herself like that?

Little did the audience know, that was exactly what you wanted. You would have done it in front of the whole world. You didn’t give one ounce of a fuck. No one gets shamed for eating a slice of pizza, this was the same. You were feasting, but instead of pizza, you were eating their curse energy. Draining them of their power so that you may fuel your bones.

You knew this was far from what they planned tonight. They always tried to hold off on how much they gave you at one given time. You think deep down they may fear that one day you would take that power and turn it on them. They were cautious and you didn’t fault them but the same could be said for them. You were weak right now, at their mercy. A lowly succubus begging for a spec of attention. They could squash you if they wanted but they didn’t and you don’t think they ever would.

You both shared a mutual agreement. You were practically enemies that used each other. A simple business contract built on trust and a sick fetish.

You could see their hesitation but also the smell of arousal.

They liked the idea of using you in front of these people.

You may have unearthed a deep-rooted desire that none of them were ready for. You weren’t surprised, they were attention-hungry whores.

Gojo flicked his head as they moved to the others who occupied the lounge.

Getou swatted them like flies, “Excuse me but we are having a private matter, you all need to leave.”

The group of superheroes began to giggle as the boys ushered out the extras and closed off the space with rolling doors that clicked when secured. The music was still able to be heard by the speakers that sat up in the corners.

Your supernatural ears allow you to hear the whispers between Sukuna, Getou, and Gojo as they walk back to you.

Gojo started it, “We all can’t give in to her she’ll be way too strong.”

Sukuna nodded as if the answer was clear, “I know that’s why she’ll suck my dick. Pet come here.”

“What why you? Slut you are sucking my dick.”

“Why don’t you both sit this one out? Don’t go to them come here, darling.”

They were all three glowering at each other and you as they beckoned you to them.

You inwardly rolled your eyes as your guest started laughing while calling out,

“Why not all three?”

“Yeah treat her like a proper whore!”

Wow, you didn’t even need to tap in. These people were psychotic.

You could still see a sliver of hesitation from them. You use your power to focus on the speakers, changing the festive tune into something more dark and seductive.

That seemed to please the others as they got excited.

“Maybe it’s them that’s scared.”

“I heard they were packing maybe it was lies.”

“Shut the hell up.” Sukuna growled as he grabbed for his cock pulling it out. The crowd gasped in shock at how well-endowed Sukuna truly was. “Come suck my dick bitch.” He yelled in irritation.

Gojo and Getou looked pissed. You held in your smile as you crawled to the three of them. They were just too easy.

For theatrics, you behaved shyly, looking at everyone before timidly taking the large cock presented to you. You kissed him appreciatively before sucking his tip between your lips. You let out a deep groan, tongue blessed by precum.

Sukuna’s eyes fluttered as he rested his hand on your head, “Take it how I like it…” he hissed in pleasure while rocking until he was in your throat. He was never one for patience, and lucky for him he could fuck your mouth just how he liked.

Rough and brutal.

There was just one thing that you had to do, to really get him going. The sadist loved tears. So you created a lot for him, sobbing as if you were in pain. Staring up at him as if begging for mercy. You tried to hide how absolutely good it truly felt. Finally being fed.

“Wow-“

“He’s so…”

“Look at her take that cock you can see it in her throat-“

The others watched in awe, but their words seemed to piss Gojo off. He wanted to be the center of attention.

You were pulled away, from Sukuna. Saliva trying to connect you back.

“What the fuck dude!?” Sukuna growled as Gojo slapped you in the mouth with his cock, making you moan as you flick your tongue out.

“You had enough.” Gojo hissed at him finally sliding you on his dick instead.

“I was about to cum-“ Sukuna went to grab you but Getou slapped his hand away.

“We can all give a little.” Getou spat on his tip while wrapping your hand around it. “It’s only fair Ryoumen.”

Sukuna was gritting his teeth while he stared at you drooling on Satoru’s cock. His balls were ready to be fucking unleashed in your damn stomach. Who the hell do they think they were? He didn’t care about sharing- they should have waited!

“Don’t -Ngh- be an ass wipe Sukuna.” Gojo grunted low so only he (and you) could hear.

You noticed what they were doing. Trying to give you little crumbs? Ha! Not if you have a say in this.

“Damn baby, you are taking me so good. I bet you’re wet right now huh?” He boasted like the performer he was. He just might like the crowd more than Sukuna.

“Come now don’t forget about me sweetheart.” Getou added as he poked his cock to your cheek.

Okay, they both might like this the most.

You switched between the both of them making them groan. Using your hands and your lips to make them feel good. You could see Sukuna coming down from his lust even though he was pissed. Logic seemed to be seeping back into his brain. However, you were greedy. You didn’t want them to think they were going to escape you.

Now to use some of the power you’ve gained.

You tethered your mind with the young fool who wanted to touch you earlier. Feeding him the desire to pull your panties down so he could show the crowd how much you were enjoying this.

(Sacrifices have to be made)

The puppet gulped as he pushed himself forward and onto the ground. Before his hand could even reach under your skirt Sukuna grabbed his wrist.

“The fuck did we say?”

“Ah!” The man cried in pain as his wrist began to shatter. “S-sorry! I just wanted to see if she was wet! Please!”

‘Show them.’ You pushed the words in Sukuna’s mind as they blended with his own thoughts. With the man’s hand still within his grasp, he reached with his left so he could lift your skirt. You released a light moan, wiggling your as they watched your essence leak past your leather panties and clung to your thighs.

“Damn, just from a blow job?”

“That’s crazy.”

Gojo grinned, “Told you. Our pet is quite the trained cocksleeve.”

Getou pulled out of your mouth as he asked you, “Isn’t that right? You love this don’t you?”

“Yes~please ~only your cocks can please mmph!” You could barely get the rest out before you were stuffed again.

You kept Getou and Gojo entertained, enticing the people to bring out their cameras so they could record and take pictures. (Although they will only find a black screen when they try to replay it.) The two men before you were like pornstars smiling for the camera, pushing their sweaty hair out of their faces as their eyes twinkled with mirth. Costumes pushed down to show off their sculpted abs.

Anytime one was about to cum they would push you off so you could work on the other.

Oh yes, they were very much loving this.

It wouldn’t be hard to get them to cum. But again, you were here for a three-course meal.

Being the multitasker that you are- you continued to tease Sukuna with the poor man.

“Come on man, I’ll give you anything if you let me fuck her.”

“This is mine.” Sukuna stated while dragging your panties down. “This ass is mine-“ *Slap*! “-and this pussy is mine.” *slap* you moaned from his hand popping your ass and cunt.

The boy let out a groan, “Oh my god- her pussy looks so good…” he whined.

Sukuna chuckled, “It is, but you will never know.” He swirled two fingers around your lower lips, and then inserted them in. He sucked in a breath as you arched against his fingers, squeezing him tightly. An image was flashed in his mind. Instead of his fingers inside you, it was his dick. He choked out a tight moan, his cock twitching with need. With a need for that image to be real. He knew you were taunting him, drawing him in so he could give you what you want. Using this baboon to play with his more selfishly wicked side. He shouldn’t give in, it was a very very bad idea-

Then an image pushed more urgently in his head, but this time it was of the little bastard fucking you- that pissed him off. Making him ditch all efforts to hold himself back.

Fuck it.

He moved without another thought, replacing his fingers with his cock.

Your lips popped open as you screamed in pleasure.

Gojo looked shocked, “Sukuna you dirtbag!”

Sukuna gave him the finger as he fucked you with wild abandonment, “Don’t cum then dick head-mm- Because I sure am.” His nails dug into you, making sure you, nor anyone else could stop him from his high. Sukuna growled as he looked toward the jealous man who wanted a piece of you. “This is mine- my pussy my pet, you got it?”

The man nodded dumbly-

“SAY IT! ALL OF YOU OR I WILL KILL YOU!” He snatched out his very real knife and pressed it against the boy’s neck as he cried out-

“SHES YOURS SHES YOURS!”

Sukuna was going off on his tyrant high. Laughing maniacally.

Perfect.

Now for the others-

Gojo gasped in shock as you grabbed his cock, pulling him deep into your throat, your long tongue coiling tightly around him.

He hissed trying to not cum, ‘Shit shit shit-‘

Getou grabbed him trying to pull him away from your lips but you had a hold of him.

“Gah-“

“Satoru don’t-“

Your throat and pussy began to tighten, buzzing with warmth. Blue and red eyes rolled back- And then they were both cumming at the same time.

Getou’s eyes widen, watching your tattoo curl around your limbs and face, your eyes glowing and then your wings burst out in a puff of red dust. Everyone gasped in shock but then the dust coated them and their eyes drifted closed. They will forget everything they saw tonight.

Gojo and Sukuna went limp and fell from you, collapsing right next to each other with blurry eyes.

“Stupid…fucking…stupid…ass…” Gojo croaked.

“F-fuck…you…” Sukuna retorted as best as he could.

You swiped your lips and hummed delightfully, sucking your finger as you stared at your next meal.

Getou looked upon you in slight fear. His friends were so damn dumb. “You had enough pet.” He growled lightly while tucking himself away.

You pouted while fluttering your wings, “Suguru… you don’t want to feed me?” Your eyes then darkened as did the room your voice echoing in his mind like a siren, “I know you want to.”

Fuck! Getou turned and ran for the door. Your sadistically sweet laughter drowned out any other noise. Within a flash, he was tackled onto his back, sliding a few paces away before he realized what happened.

You were on top of him with your wings spread, your tongue licked up his chest as you danced upon him. He panted, the trail of your tongue tingled, sparking every part of his fiber. It then coiled around his cock pulling it out.

He moaned gripping the carpet underneath him as he tried to ground himself for your seductive tongue.

You hummed pulling your tongue back into your mouth, twirling your hand around his length, “May I ride you? Please?” You questioned sweetly, rubbing his tip around your lower lips.

Getou’s hands twitched as he bit his lip harshly.

Gojo and Sukuna tried to speak from their spot,

“D-don’t-“

“F-fight it-“

Getou growled inwardly- ASSHOLES! EASY FOR THEM TO SAY WHEN THEY WERE THE ONES THAT GAVE YOU ALL THIS ENERGY!

You blinked at him, “Suguru~ but I’m so wet~ don’t you want to feel?”

“You’ve had-had enough pet-“

Stubborn.

Your wings fluttered as the room changed. Instead of the frat boy house you were in front of the elders, smack dead in the middle of them all.

Suguru let out a chuckle hearing them gasp in horror. Ah one of his deepest darkest desires? How could he hold back now. He reached up to grab your hips so he could pull you onto his cock.

“Fucking ride me then slut.”

“Mm~!”

Both of you moaned as the restraint was broken. You moved like wild animals, drowning in greedy pleasure.

It was all so damn delicious.

Suguru enjoyed the voyeurism and the biggest fuck you while fucking you image you played for him was perfect.

He didn’t last long, especially with the earlier foreplay. With one last thrust, he slammed you down and let out a loud grunt.

“Hmmm~.” You shivered feeling him coat your insides with his essence. Slowly but surely his grip loosened and then he collapsed while panting heavily.

After your euphoria ended you stood with a big smile.

“Ah~” you looked around feeling much more alive. You step over all of the bodies lying around, fixing your appearance as you walk out. “Thank you for the meal boys!”

They let out a light groan as you nearly skipped out excitedly.

It was time for you to go hunting.

You were still hungry after all.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter seven.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

(coming soon)

[raayllum]

Allegorical Rayllum in "Dreamer's Nightmare"

Really thought I'd walk out of Dreamer's Nightmare thinking more about the broyals + Harrow, or an Ezran centric meta (and there may be ones to follow) but this was something that stuck out to me on my first two read throughs and was a truly unexpected part of the graphic novel so...

This is exactly what it says on the tin, and full spoilers for all of Dreamer's Nightmare.

Let's go

Crumbs

The biggest crumb(s) we get are arguably Callum 1) recognizing the mural as belonging to an elven temple, and 2) this panel below that definitely made me chuckle.

I also, accordingly, lost my mind over the elf-toy from 1x04 being a gift given to Ezran / the boys by the end of the comic, which seems to be modelled both after the Moonshadow elf featured in the story, and of actual canon Rayla per 1x04 itself, down to the girl having a similar hair style, markings, and being a sword wielder. (This also informs our basis for the next section.)

However, the definitely meatier stuff has to do with the Dream Warden (DW) creature, its history, and Ezran's interactions with it, so that's where we'll be focusing, and subsequently big spoilers for the graphic novel. Last chance to get out if you hadn't read it yet!

Identity and Loss

So there's a few things we learn about DW and their little mortal friend.

Long ago, a Dream Warden, still new to the world, befriended a mortal child. This violated the traditions of its kind, but the Dream Warden was young. Each night, it flew to the silver shores of sleep and each night found its friend there, wide-eyed and waiting. And beneath the watchful stars, they could adventure together through the child's dreaming world. But one night, sleep blossomed into dream, the Warden found itself alone. The child did not appear that night, nor any night that followed. The Dream Warden searched dream after dream for its friend. Sorrow became fear came anger, and soon the Warden left nothing but nightmares to flower in its wake.

This happens, of course, because the child has grown up and left their old dreaming behind, and the relationship between youth and dreams vs adulthood (actual and perceived) is something the comic is likewise interested in. Callum wants to be grow up so he can help, but as Harrow says, "Part of being grown-up is looking out for others," and there are many moments Callum acts far more like the 9-11 year old child that he is here than an adult, even if he is definitely more mature by the novel's close than he was at the beginning (and so on and so forth into S1 / beyond).

It is these two things — the abandonment of dreams (a life with Callum) to taking up an 'adult' task (assassinating Viren) in the name of "looking out for others" (Callum, the world) — that leads to Rayla leaving in Through the Moon. This is due to having fallen out of favour the idea that she's "stronger together" (BH) with anyone and missing the memo the boys receive/believe from Harrow—and their mother's actions—that they are "safest together".

So we have a Moon creature (seemingly) befriending an elven (mortal) child, even though doing so goes against the traditions of its kind. Then one day the Moon elf disappears in the action / guise of growing up, leaving the DW despondent, angry, and alone. Saddened, fearful, and furious they leave behind nightmares. [Sidenote: I do love the consistent metaphor of blossoming to flowering, it's nice.] Eventually, they fall into a deep depression and slumber.

This is a pretty close beat-for-beat of Esmeray as well, down to being left behind by a creature connected to the Moon arcanum who specifically "mysteriously dies"/leaves and subsequently causing an icy, snowy storm that shrouds the heavens (hides the starlight) until a return and/or reconciliation.

When she disappeared, she left you all alone. In pain. The storm isn't your rage. It's your grief. Your loneliness. On moonless nights, you miss her the most.

All of this is, however, mostly subtext, even if Callum and Esmeray match up in S6 and S4 in more than one instance, so I thought going through Dreamer's Nightmare that Callum's evident parallels to DW, and even Rayla to the moon child, that it would likewise remain subtext. Imagine my surprise when it wasn't.

Ezran

I've talked about Ezran and Rayla and their parallels before, decently extensively. Despite having different personality presentations, they have very similar cores. Both are less inclined towards violence in spite of Ezran having access to power and in spite of Rayla's upbringing, both have received prejudiced consequences for things they couldn't control (the assassin hit out on Ezran due to his father's crimes / Rayla being Ghosted partially because of her parents' as well as being seen as a monster), and these things contribute to them questioning perceived monstrosity more than, say, Callum, would.

We see this even reflected in Dreamer's Nightmare, where Callum despairs and in a desire to protect him and Ez, defaults to, "If I can't fight it, what can I do?" versus Ezran stating, "I can't fight you, and even if I could, I don't want to."

And while I have other thoughts on Callum and the 'monster' motif / label that you can read here, what I want to reaffirm here is the way through Ezran's connection with the Dream Warden, we also highlight his understanding of Callum both in the graphic novel and while Rayla was away / in the early days of her return.

Callum as a character has always been a character with a tenuous grasp on his own identity, especially in arc 1. He states in 2x04 that "when I got magic, I finally felt like myself" in trying to explain "how I've lost that. I'm just trying to find my way back". I think we can draw a point of comparison between Callum losing magic and not feeling like himself and Callum losing his mother and not feeling like himself, both in the immediate aftermath and repeatedly on the anniversary of her death. We also see elements Ezran mentions of Callum not feeling like himself (not drawing, his anger) that come out in S4 / 4x01 and 4x02, notably while Rayla was gone. It's only after she returns and they've begun to reconcile that we see Callum draw again (5x02) for example and indeed be more relaxed (somewhat) with his temper.

Through these periods, though, Ezran has been his cornerstone. Callum was lost in grief with Sarai, but finds his way back to Ezran; Ezran guides him out of the tower in 1x03 and into the quest to Xadia; Ezran is there even when Rayla is not, and Ezran encourages him to open up, recognizing there just as he does with the Dream Warden:

But it's easy to lose ourselves if we don't let others in. And I don't think you want to be angry and alone forever.

So Ezran through his assertions and understanding of both his brother in the comic's present, as well as the Dream Warden, takes everything that was previously subtext for Callum in the graphic novel as a character in the context of how he responds to loss (specifically Sarai and Rayla's loss), and makes it text:

DW lost their Moon arcanum connected best friend and fell into a furious sorrow, and that sorrow being disturbed is what brings the angered splintering back in full force. Dreamer's Nightmare ends, of course, with the creature being pacified and presumably going to bond with more new children, rather than just being shut away forever. Since Rayla isn't fully gone, and since she comes back, his tale of moon-friend-disappearing related woe ends differently with the full reconciliation, but the period of processing the grief and anger to "to hope and maybe forgive and love again" (4x03) remains the same.

This bodes well for theories regarding his love for Rayla and despair/desperation over losing her being what turns Callum into a 'monster' in S7, by which I mean Callum believing himself to become a monster through helping Aaravos / dark magic corruption, and believing himself to be something worth killing (4x07, 6x03) should those things transpire. But as Ezran says, all it takes is one (or two) people seeing you through the periods of anger, sadness, or splintered corruption to bring you back to your whole self again. Given the basis for Dreamer's Nightmare, I'm extremely hopeful that both Ezran and Rayla will have their roles to play in bringing Callum back to himself, just as Ezran's bonds with Callum and with Rayla will undeniably play a part in bringing Ezran back to himself, too.

With all this in mind, let's talk about the doll.

The Elf Toy

So the elf doll haunts me, nor is this new, by any means. I posted a bit about it when Dreamer's Nightmare had just come out, but I've had my eye on this thing since I first noticed the game motif some time after S3 aired. While it's since expanded to include Aaravos and his pawns (and dark magic) more directly in arc 2, said game motif in arc 1 mostly referred to the Key of Aaravos, with the motif and key itself being properly introduced in 1x04: "This is the game room, cube should be in there" / "It's a toy. A piece from a children's game."

A game motif oriented episode that then, therefore, likewise introduces a toy Rayla stand in, and one that Dreamer's Nightmare, purposefully being released before S7 for evident reasons for both brothers at least, harkens back to directly.

Like I think I can speak for all of us when I say I never thought we'd see the damn thing again. It's in 1x04 primarily to just emphasize how humans (namely Amaya) have always seen elves as scary monsters, it looks like Rayla to drive that subsequent point home, and yes it's a toy in an episode with the series' core Game Motif being centred for the first time, but that doesn't mean it's automatically connected. I'd like it to be, I think it'd be fun and very on brand for TDP's style of writing if it was.

That's said, let's go over it from various angles, starting with order of events:

Kid has elf toy, is buried under rubble

Callum and Ez pull them out and usher the kid to safety

The boys / Ezran resolve the conflict and defeat the 'monster,' with Ezran realizing it's not a monster, and instead relating it to Callum explicitly

The boys receive the elf toy as a gift

The most direct reasoning here, then, goes twofold:

Placing the toy here adds depth to Ezran thinking back in 1x04 about what makes something/someone a monster, which is the subject of the conversation at hand, and how it was incorrect

It is here in DM because we're revisiting the Banther Lodge next season, and there's going to be an emphasis on seeing people (others towards Callum; Ezran towards Runaan) not as monsters / reminding Ezran of his love for Rayla. We may see the toy, probably not, but that could be the thread

Therefore, that is where I think I'd leave it in terms of being a toy with a deeper purpose... if not for the fact it's referred to as a Gift. I've talked about the gift motif here in TDP and how arc 2 makes it much more of an emphasis, largely in regards to magic and magical sources of power:

However, where it's most notable in the 'gifts' Aaravos gives: his pawns are not just his pawns, but often tethered to him through magical objects. Claudia's current pawn intro has the Sun staff, which was given from Aaravos to Viren to her; Callum has the cube, a similarly ancient relic passed down through generations; "Lay it down? But it was a gift," Ziard says, the Staff clutched in his hand, and Viren later cites it explicitly a toy: "You had a lifetime to play with your toys, but now you hide them all away or destroy them."

To the point that throughout the various gifts given (the moon opal pendant, Rayla's goodbye letter, the sun orb from the Sun, the trio's gifts of sacrifice to Rex Igneous, Janai's sword and Miyana delivering the sun seed, and more I'm sure) the only things referred to as / that are both gifts and toys are the Key of Aaravos and the Relic Staff.

And, now thanks to Dreamer's Nightmare, the Elf (Rayla) doll.

Obviously this doesn't mean the elf doll is an ancient relic, or powerful, or even important, I think. Not on a literal level. But the final pages do tease it's a bringer of misfortune, which Rayla absolutely is (or is supposed to) when she lands on the boys' doorstep 6-5 years later. She's assumed to be a bringer of misfortune at said Banther Lodge where both the toy and cube are found, which is why she's taken captive.

What characters thus far receive things in the graphic novels, too, comes into play later. Claudia's map to the unicorn she acquired in The Puzzle House seemingly fulfilled its purpose pre-series with her tracking one down already, only to have another purpose in mind as of 7x01.

It's not beyond the realm of possibility to me, therefore, with all this in mind:

The doll was included as a throwback to 1x04

It will have importance

This importance will possibly relate to Rayla

If the motif of it being a gift and a toy is relevant, than the objects on par with it are the Relic staff and Key of Aaravos

Something something "Rayla's life is a fair exchange for the Key of Aaravos" because we all know what we're doing here by now

In summary: you lost your Moonshadow elf best friend and that caused you to become a monster / nightmare ("we had to fight our own people, it was a nightmare") and Dreamer's Nightmare just expected me to feel totally normal even before interweaving the gift motif into the game/toy motif with the damn Rayla stand in doll from 1x04 of all episodes. Yeah.

And that's really all I got for this one, but I hoped you enjoyed the allegorical thread break down and the game motif theorizing!

[moonchild701]

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Red Night

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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: You go searching for the hot vampire you saw and you get exactly what you want

Pairing: Vampire!Dabi/ Human Fem Reader

Content Warning: Enthusiastic Consent, Fear Play, Chasing, Blood, Blood Kink, Choking, Biting, Fingering, Rough Sex, Public Sex, Sex in the Woods, Clothed Sex, Mind Break (kinda??),

Word Count: 3.6k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: Happy Halloween! Final part of my Halloween posts! The entire idea for these are technically because of @candycandy00 , so this is mostly thanks and dedicated to you candy! 💕💕

My Masterlist

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The first time you saw him, you were...intrigued.

Dark scars contrasting pale skin like a mosaic, gleaming silver staples holding him together, pure white hair, shining like a halo. Yet the most prominent thing about him were his eyes.

Piercing blue, almost glowing. You've never quite seen anything like it. It was breathtaking. It was unnatural. It was beautiful.

And when he met your gaze, there was something...off...about him.

Maybe it was the way he seemed to catalogue everything about you in a single glance, maybe it was the gleam in his eyes as he looked at you, head tilted. Maybe it was the way he smirked; like he found a new toy.

No, not a toy. Prey.

Whatever it was, an uneasiness settled in your stomach.

He's not human. You know of them of course, the vampires that go bump in the night, though this is the first time you've been knowingly in the pressence of one.

You walked away with the feel of his eyes on your back and something dangerous settling in beside the unease within you.

*****

You thought that would be the last time you saw him.

You were wrong.

He was everywhere.

Like a shadow, he followed you; watching you, stalking you, hunting you, haunting you.

You would see him out of the corner of your eye, though when you looked, he was gone.

The feeling of being watched became a constant for you; fear a familiar friend.

And yet, after having grown accustomed to him, to that fear, you can't help the thrill that goes through you when you see him; the adrenaline rush in your veins whenever you feel his eyes on you, but you can't see him. The feeling of being hunted should be terrifying, and it is. Yet it's also so very exhilarating.

You know you're playing with fire, but you can't help it.

You wonder how it would all end.

You wonder when he would lose his patience.

*****

It happens when you decide to take a late night walk. Above you, the full moon glows with a tint of eerie red. A Blood moon, fitting for this night.

You know he's there, you caught a glimpse of white within the darkness, you can feel his eyes on you, and a shiver goes through you at what you plan to do.

You know this is where he frequents, practically his playground; it's why you're here. You crave to know him, to touch him, feel him; to have his hands on your body, his lips on your skin, his fangs in your neck.

And even through all of that, when he jumps down from the darkness of the trees above you, landing directly in front of you, the moment your eyes lock on his hypnotising azure gaze, on the vicious glee held within when you shriek in surprise, your instincts all immediately scream at you to run; because you are but a small prey in the presence of a predator.

You're running before you even process what you're doing, just following your instincts.

Running, running, running, your heart pounding, pounding, pounding.

The night air is crisp and cool against your face as you run. Your shoes hit the soft earth with the snap of twigs and crunch of leaves, branches snagging on your dress, tearing at the soft material and scraping your legs.

"I can smell you~" he rasps, his sultry voice sounding both distant and like he's directly next to you, all you see in the corner of your eye is that burning blue, before it disappears just as quickly.

"Run, little mouse," he coos, sounding like it's coming from behind you, making you turn your head back. But nothing is there.

"When I catch you, you're mine." His voice seems to come from multiple directions in the dark, and dread and excitement swirl deep in your gut, thighs burning as you run.

The thrill of the chase just adds to your excitement, knowing that the creature hunting you will inevitably catch you. And when he does, you will be at his mercy; his to do with as he wishes, his to use, his to claim, his to consume, body and soul.

The sudden silence blanketing your surroundings only amplify the heated fear, and all you can hear is your racing heartbeat, rushing blood, and the rustling of leaves.

The cold wind blows past you as he dances around you, playing with his prey as he darts around you, reaching out to brush surprisingly warm fingers along your skin, just to make you yelp.

The way he's so obviously playing with you somehow both makes you want to snarl and cry, and makes heat stir in your gut. It doesn't help that you catch a glimpse of a wide, feral grin whenever he's close enough to see it.

And then you stop seeing him.

You stop to catch your breath, every gulp of air dragging through your lungs, and you glance around wildly.

Having the vampire right on your heels is nerve-wracking enough, but the moments where he vanishes entirely are far worse.

Suddenly, you hear the rustling of leaves off to your side, and you automatically lash out, only for a scarred hand to grab your arm and press you into the rough surface of the trunk of a tree, a choked scream crawling up your throat.

Really, you should've known better than to try outrunning him.

You jerk and thrash automatically, the instinct to keep fighting and escape still present, but the vampire just keeps you pinned firmly against the tree, and only seeming amused at your squirming.

You force yourself to calm down, because not only will you acting like prey make this more dangerous than it already is, but this is exactly what you want! What you crave.

As you relax, a heated hand wraps around your throat, holding you in place, but not squeezing, and you're finally able to take in his appearance properly, and God, the sight of him with wild hair and an utterly unrestrained expression, grin so wide it looks like it hurts, as he drags his tongue over his teeth, the sharp points of his fangs glinting in the moonlight, is...Well, to put it simply, your underwear is drenched in your slick.

And this close, you realize that the pupils of his eyes are thin slits, like those of a cat's, and they're locked on you.

Chuckling darkly, he purrs, "Caught you, Sweetheart." His voice is a soot tinted velvet abyss, and you feel your knees buckle, but he keeps you where you are.

You pant, gasping for breath, as his thumb caresses the pulse point on your throat, the touch deceptively light and feathery.

He grabs your hip with his other hand, pulling you towards him; the heat radiating off him is almost suffocating as he towers over you, trapping you against the tree. "Now what's a pretty thing like you doing all the way out here, hm?" He tilts his head as his eyes rove over you like he's trying to figure out a puzzle.

You thought a vampire's skin would be ice cold, but he's practically a walking furnace; the feel of him disorienting you to the point of not answering.

Not that he seems to notice much.

A warm, wet tongue licks a stripe up your neck and your breath hitches at the sensation and slight sting of a scratch you didn't know was there, most likely from a branch.

The neckline of your dress is invitingly low, your neck and collarbones bare, and his hand on your throat slides to cup the side, tilting your head to lean in closer; slowly closing the distance inch by ruinous inch, until you could feel his breath against your skin, before burying his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder, nosing at the soft flesh there, inhaling deeply. "Fuck, you smell good.", he rumbles, his breath hot on your skin, his lips scorching where they brush, and you tremble in his hold, goosebumps raising in their wake.

"Oh?" His grip tightens on your hip and throat momentarily. "You want this, don't you?" His voice is a deep, amused purr, and you can feel him grinning against you.

"N-no, I—" you stutter, stupidly deciding to follow your first instinct at the shameful accusation; deny and lie through your teeth.

"Don't lie to me, Sweetheart. I can taste it." He presses his thumb to your racing pulse, licking over the small wound again. "Your blood at least knows how to be honest." he chuckles, taunting and mean.

You swallow thickly around the moan crawling up your throat, threatening to release.

"Well?" He murmurs, tapping his thumb against the hidden vein.

"Yes." You breathe, spilling your filthy truth and wicked desires.

He let's out a satisfied hum at your honesty and murmurs, "What's your name, sweet thing?", nipping at the sensitive skin.

You answer honestly, breathily, and he rewards you with a chaste kiss to your neck. "Touya.", he introduces himself in turn, and you think to yourself that it suits him.

"Mm, I want to taste you. Properly.", his thumb slides up to tip your chin up further, directing your eyes to meet his. "May I?"

You know he doesn't truly mean it, the question. It's merely an illusion of power, of consent, because really, what vampire asks their prey if they can eat?

He's simply humoring you, mocking you really, already knowing your answer but wanting to hear it.

Wanting to hear you so easily comply, willingly surrendering yourself, your dignity, to a creature of the night, a man you don't even know; laughably offering your very life force to an immortal.

He wants to hear the pathetic want of a mortal foolish enough to feel that way.

And yet.

"Please.", you sigh, sagging against him, a plea and a prayer as you bare your throat to him.

He breathes out a laugh. "Let's hope you don't regret it, hm?" His voice is a dark purr, a dangerous threat and a sweet promise, as he wastes no time in sinking his fangs into the soft skin of your neck.

You gasp when the sharp, stinging pain sets your shoulder and neck aflame as he pierces your flesh, marking you in a way no one ever has; your own teeth sinking into your bottom lip to contain your cries as a new heat washes through you, your hand moving up to tangle in his snowy hair, holding him to you.

His eyes roll back in ecstasy at the taste of your warm blood, his tongue laving against your skin as he sucks on your neck, feasting on it, and your grip tightens, tugging at the pale strands.

A low growl rumbles through his chest as he drinks from you, pulling you in impossibly closer, crowding you up agaisnt the tree, sliding his leg between your thighs, pressing up into your core. You absentmindedly grind down against him pathetically, panting; his hand on your hip sliding up to squeeze at your breast.

Already you're dripping as you grind your hips against his front, and moan when you can feel that he's hard for you.

He pulls away from your neck, seemingly reluctantly, his lips lingering on your skin momentarily.

His eyes are wild as he looks at you, pupils blown wide; grin broad and bloody, a single drop of blood trickling down the corner of his lips, and you think he's hauntingly beautiful.

"You taste divine." He breathes, and the tone is all dark pleasure, the low rumble in his chest a quiet constant, looking at you as though he's just found something precious; his hands roaming your frame reverently as he takes you in, licking up the stray blood from his lips.

A warm hand trails under and up your dress, and you gasp when he cups your clothed cunt.

"This is what you wanted, hm?" tilting his head, his eyes going to the wound he left on your neck, sluggishly bleeding. "Tsk, tsk, naughty little thing. Your blood doesn't lie, Angel.", he coos, rubbing slow circles into your clothed clit with his thumb, and you let out a shuddering moan. "And neither does your greedy body."

Hot shame rushes through you at your dirty desires being laid bare, at being claimed and devoured by this dark creature, and wanting it; enjoying it.

Nothing about this is okay.

And.

Yet.

Your needy whimper and glossy, pleading eyes looking up at him so prettily is all the answer he needs, and he smiles, sharp and vicious, and he leans in to let you taste it; taste his bloodstained lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. And like a fool, you kiss back, licking into his mouth; the coppery taste of your blood on his tongue adding to your primal desire.

He tears your panties off of you, the fabric falling apart easily with a loud rip, before immediately dipping two fingers into your sopping hole, curling them.

Your lips part on a gasping moan, eyes wide as you look at him, at that wolfish smile and gleaming fangs.

Your legs tremble as he spreads his fingers, scissoring you open, stretching you out for him. "Oh fuck~" you whine, nails digging into his forearm and bicep as you shamelessly grind down against him.

"More, more, Touya, please more." You babble, pleading and hoping he knows what you mean, because you can feel your orgasm nearing, but this isn't how you want to cum.

He just grins at you, because he knows, but feeling either merciful or impatient, or perhaps both, he pulls his fingers out with a squelch, quickly undoing his belt and pants, before lifting you, spreading your legs for him; the easy show of strength just making you burn that bit hotter, pussy throbbing.

"I've been waiting far too long for this." Touya sighs softly, the leaking tip of his cock teasing your wet folds, rubbing against your sensitive clit. "Don't worry, Princess, I'll give you exactly what you want."

He pushes in slowly, but completely, and your mind is gone, moaning long and low at the perfect stretch, trembling with how full you are all at once, as he splits you open on his cock, carving out a space within you just for him.

Tears roll down your cheek and he just licks it right up with a smile as he grinds into you, making you adjust to his size, before slowly pulling back.

"Mm, you feel as good as you taste." He punctuates his point with a deep thrust that drags a choked moan out of your throat as you take every inch of his cock.

Cerulean eyes lock on yours as Touya's mouth opens with a snarl to reveal gleaming fangs.

It's all the warning you get before his fangs puncture your skin once more, flooding your senses with that heady mix of pain and ecstasy.

You arch into Touya's touch as best you can without ripping your own throat open. "Fuuuck~" you whine, high and breathy, nails dragging down his arms for something to ground you, feet kicking out involuntarily as you clench around him. All at once, it's too much, too fast, but you might actually cry if he tries to stop. Your skin feels like it's on fire, your very blood lava; body and senses overwhelmed in the best way.

A growl rumbles in Touya's chest, almost a purr, as he drinks his fill, groaning low in his throat as his tongue presses against where his fangs have pierced skin and you almost sob at the pleasure-pain before clenching down rhythmically on his hot length, trying to coax him into fucking you; the only thing holding you back from bouncing yourself on the vampire's cock, the fangs in your throat.

"Touya~!", you whimper, squirming in the vampire's strong hold and shuddering when his cock drags against your walls, fucking you slow and deep.

Soon enough, Touya has you shaking and sobbing out sweet, little tortured sounds, and he laps them up too.

Noticing the sounds getting weaker, he pulls back, healing the wound with a lick, peppering bruising, open mouthed kisses down your neck, to your shoulder, before immediately biting down there as he snaps his hips forward, slamming his cock into you, so he can watch you throw your head back in pleasure as he grinds in deep.

"Oh, fuck—" , you sob, clawing at his back. "Move. Please, please, fuck me—"

His eyes widen as he removes his fangs and seals to wound, looking at you in a mix of curiosity and wonder.

Should prey be this receptive?

Though, he doesn't really care. All he knows is that he can't get enough of the sight of you, debauched and pretty, speared on his cock, begging to be fucked stupid.

He grins, sharp and bloody.

"Fuck, such a good girl for me, aren't you?" He coos, fucking into you steadily, pace gradually speeding up, rumbling as you moan and cry out.

"Mm, good. So good. So so good. Fuck yes, yes, yes—ahn—feels so good, Touya. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," you babble and chant, almost slurring, and neither of you know if it's from blood loss or just lust, but fuck you never want it to end. "Use me, drain me, kill me, I don't care, just fuck me, please~"

Touya lets out a surprised laugh at that, looking at you in bewildered awe, idly wondering if he overdid it, or if you're just that much of a little freak, and he feels some of his control slip, hitting your sweet spot perfectly.

You let out a sobbing moan as you try to meet his thrusts, but you asked to be used, so with the speed and strength of the vampire, you're soon left a drooling and twitching mess as you're used as nothing more than a fuck toy.

Touya's plan was to spoil you, take it nice and easy on his new little human, but you turned out to be such an adorable slut.

You asked, so sweetly to be used. How could he say no?

So, used you were.

"I'll use you all you want, but I won't kill you. I won't break my pretty new toy, Dolly, I'm keeping you.", he growls, and you feel like you're going to be branded with the heat of his bruising grip on your ass where he holds you spread for him as he fucks brutally into you like the beast he is, plunging into the deepest parts of you; your clothed breasts bouncing with every thrust, the filthy sounds of your sloppy hole filling the night air.

And like the fucking freak you are, you giggle, even as you pant for an ounce of breath, even as tears stream down your cheeks from feeling so fucking good.

Your pleasure builds and builds, and you're so close.

Touya feels it in your twitching insides, groaning. "You gonna cum for me, baby? Such a good slut for me, gonna cum from a monster's cock, huh?", his thrusts, still at that ruthless pace, are becoming uneven as he pounds into you.

You just nod desperately, and cock-dumb, your voice hoarse, panting and moaning like a whore, you beg, "Mhm, want your cum. Fill me up please, please, please—", as your hole greedily clenches around him rhythmically, like you're trying to milk it out of him.

"Fuck, cum for me, Angel. I’ll fill you up, mark you as mine." He growls, low and animalistic, all hot pleasure and possession.

Your orgasm is intense as it crashes over you, to the point that you don't even know where it ends. Your eyes roll back, vision turning white, as you gush around him.

The vampire lets out a near feral snarl at the way your cunt clamps down on him, and his fangs bury in your shoulder once more as he cums, thick ropes of cum painting your insides. He drinks in the way you moan as he fucks you through your orgasms, filling you up; the mess between your legs splattering every time he pumps into you, the white of it obscene in the dark of night.

He finally slows down to a grind, lapping at the bite carefully so it can heal, before looking you over and finding you barely conscious.

Coming down from your high, your breathing is laboured and you can't see straight, eyes lidded and hazy, yet you still have an adorably stupid grin on your lips.

He tilts your chin, luminous eyes piercing through you as he pants. "You're mine now. You understand that, yes?" His gaze remains trained on yours as his tongue darts out to lick up the few drops of blood that remain on his lips. The icy fire burning in Touya's eyes threatens to consume you whole, your body trembling under his touch as you nod and let out a breathy, fucked out little, "Uh huh", because it's all you can manage at the moment, your cunt pulsing around him.

"You will be a good pet and not let any other human lay their filthy hands on you, hm?" He rumbles, grinding into you, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"I'm yours." You moan, high and breathy, slurring. You want nothing more than to be owned, body and soul, by this man.

"That's my girl." With blood smeared on his lips, he grins, fangs glinting in the moonlight as he pulls out, letting you feel the mess that spills down your thighs and the delicious ache pulsing through you from being so thoroughly used.

You decided to play with fire, and Touya is more than happy to brand you as his.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

[hugsandchaos]

Y’all think if the Links knew about what Danny does, they’d gain more respect for him? Not saying they don’t already, by the way!

Danny’s… “hero life”, I guess you could say, isn’t exactly like theirs. Instead of some big goal and a big adventure that sent him all across the country, he puts up with ghost fights and ghost hunters on the daily, and on top of schoolwork and keeping his identity a secret from almost everyone around him at that. Yes, he’s technically gone on a few big adventures like when he fought Pariah Dark and Dan, but he doesn’t consider them as big of a deal compared to what the Links went through.

That doesn’t mean he’s completely ignoring his troubles and putting himself down, though. He has to hide what he is from his own parents out of fear that they’d stop loving him, and his own government essentially says he has no rights and should be hunted down and experimented on. To make matters worse, that’s just because of his ghost half. Could you imagine how badly hunters and scientists would want him in their grasp if word got out he was still technically part human? Skulker is a great example of this!

Danny is constantly being attacked on both sides; humans and ghosts, and even his own parents have been actively hunting his ghost half more than most other ghosts! Talk about emotional damage!

He protects his town, the very town that seems to hate him, because he feels guilty that his own death caused the portal to open up and let other ghosts through. No matter how many times they shoot him or paint him as the bad guy, he still helps because he can’t ignore a call for help. And this has been going on for over a year.

I really want to hear what others have to say regarding what the Links would think once they know all of this!! So badly!!

[peaches2217]

I had lunch with my pastor today. I literally don’t think it could’ve gone any better. I’m… still in total disbelief, honestly.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so heard by a religious leader in my life.

Over an hour and a half, we nibbled on scones and coffee and talked theology and spirituality and general morality. I ended up telling her everything: my traumatic experiences growing up in church, being outed by the pastor and then cast out, meeting my girlfriend and coming to grips with my gender identity and wrestling with the God I was raised to believe in vs. the God I’ve come to believe in.

She cried. She dismantled all the homo/transphobia I’ve experienced with scripture and historical knowledge and context of said scripture. She shared her own experiences — turns out we were both raised Pentecostal, so she’s intimately familiar with the sort of ideology I’ve been fed my whole life. She decried the breach of trust I experienced with my pastor as both spiritual and humanitarian betrayal. She gave me a rundown of the recent history of the United Methodist church: it split when the church ruled last year to legitimize queer identities and marriages, and the church I’ve joined is one of the churches that didn’t join the split and decided to practice full inclusion.

She asked if the name I go by is my deadname and if I wanted her to call me anything else. I told her no, my birth name is unisex, so I’m still happy with it! But I do wanna change my middle name to Elijah. She said it was fitting; Elijah grappled with depression and fear yet chose to place his faith in God through all of it. I admitted that I hadn’t really thought of it that way. She encouraged me to go back and read his story again.

Before we left, she asked if she could pray with me. She opened by addressing me as “she” in that prayer… and then stopped and asked what pronouns I wanted to go by. I said “He, if that’s alright.” The remainder of the prayer, I was “he” and “him” and “his”. It was made clear to me, in no uncertain terms, that I was welcomed into her church exactly as I am.

I thanked her again for not turning me away, and she started crying again, just clasping my hands and telling me she was glad I found this church. I told her I was equally glad.

[eskir]

false god - aventurine x reader

your love makes him feel as if he's been raised up to a pedestal the idea that it could crumble underneath him is truly frightening

when you look at him, with admiration and fever like a devotee to an aeon, he is reminded that he is mortal. he is undoubtedly mortal because aeons don't fall for their followers. he knows that he is mortal because of the fear that raises its head whenever he confronts the fact that he is attached to you.

it didn't start this way, with you looking at him with hidden yet so noticeable love for him. the first conversation between you two was nothing but a business formality, something between two partners who wouldn't talk again after a project. after all, the IPC was a large organization.

so for the first couple of days it was cold business talk. but, over the weeks, he managed to grow on you with his almost lazy smirk and extravagant tendencies. eventually you two could talk as if you were really friends, as if aventurine didn't treat 'friends' like transactions and things that would inevitably fall apart.

and one day, when you had opened up, you smiled and pointed at his eyes. aventurine moved away from your finger, ducking to the side, not expecting that sudden gesture, and your next words made him pause.

"honestly, when i first saw you all i could think about was how beautiful your eyes are."

it was genuine. you were being as truthful. and it wasn't out of a necessity to be cordial as business partners nor as a benefit for you; instead, those words were just a simple thought that you decided, on a whim, to reveal.

but he quickly shook off the shock that you could be so open to a mere business partner. he donned the smirk and pushed your hand away from his face. you were too close.

"are they still beautiful in your eyes? or, hm... am i beautiful in your eyes?"

aventurine brings your hand closer to his lips as he leans forward. there was that casual smirk, but when you looked into his eyes... it was an analytical gaze, yet it was also asking to know exactly how much he is worth in your eyes. you couldn't tell where this came from, but you could certainly guess.

it was out of a need to have a worth, to be in control and knowledgeable of all the pieces.

so you pulled away with a laugh, playing off this entire encounter as a joke. you ignored the emptiness in his eyes as you bid him good night. it would do no good to call him beautiful. after all, would he even take it seriously?

and then the project ended, cordially, without anything else.

so then how did the two of you get here, with you looking at him with such adoration?

your kisses are soft, and yet with each of them a deep sense of fear arises in his chest, taking his heart captive. he wants to lean into you and hold you close, but how could he when he is greeted with the memory of his past?

he longs to be emotionally distant enough from you so that he could give into the temptation of your touch: you'd be close enough, but far enough away so that he could control his emotions. he longs to be the only one in your eyes, but would you even stay when he isn't willing to open up in that way yet?

so keep him close then, with his hand wrapped around your waist and the other in your hair. he'll press chaste kisses, not out of politeness, but out of fear. if he gets too close, what'll happen?

what he doesn't see, and what you can see, is that he looks at you with the same desperate kind of love. you're both candles, chasing the flame that is the other's embrace.

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

(adar pov) (kissing someone on saurons throne you say) (sfw but suggestive??)

You can smell Mairon everywhere in the great ruined tower of Eragion - he must have been living here for months. He's like metal on your tongue and down your throat. This place is layer after layer of forge and smithy, supplies, ores - for your former master, this must have been a heavenly kingdom to rule.

It's abandoned now. Your troops have made short work of the elves guarding it - you imagine this will make Mairon run back here as fast as he is able, when he stops being distracted by Lady Galadriel. If hte two of you stretch him thin enough, each armed with a piece of his crown, one of you will surely be able to strike him down.

There are no traps; there's not even a veil cast over this place. Just the increasing stink of smoke and ash both mortal and immortal, the same skin-clinging heat you'd feel in Mairon's forges back in Angband.

On the top floor is a locked door; your blackened knife breaks the lock easily. You open the door slowly in case of traps or a waiting enemy; none strikes.

The single spot of color in the room is an elf in green robes hunched over a desk, one hand on a machine you don't recognize. He was looking at the machine; now he's looking at you. His face and hair are streaked with forge-ash; his eyes are the only light in the room other than the candles.

"Who are you?" the elf asks, picking up a slender hammer better used on jewelry than on flesh. There's a long, golden chain attached to one wrist that clinks whenever he moves. "Did Annatar send you?"

"I do not know any Annatar. I am here seeking the one you elves call Sauron." You step forward; he steps back, hips against the desk. With the length of the chain, there's no way he can get around the table unless he crawls under it, and that will still give him little room to maneuver. You're glad you left your children to explore the rest of this place; this is exactly the right amount of fear for you to give a captive elf. "He was here. Where is he now?"

"Sauron? Sauron - what do you want him for?" the elf asks. He backs up until he's sitting on the table. You stand between his legs, palms open. "Are you one of his?"

You bark a laugh. "I have not been his for a thousand years. I have come to finish things with the Deceiver. I have little doubt he'd hate the theft of a prize he kept squirreled away so. If you wish for freedom, there are few others you can turn to."

"And few others I can trust. He weaves a veil over those in his power. How do I know you are not him? He has many names and wears many faces."

"Do you think he'd wear a face like this?" Your Mairon was always uncanny in his symmetry. You were not fair of form even before he made a ruin of your skin.

"He might, to fool me," the elf says. His eyes dart over you - the heavily repaired armor, the chainmail, the faded embroidery on your sleeves and neckline. "Though I suppose there are ways to test such things."

"I'd prefer you not stab me to check what my wounds do," you say dryly - if only because you bleed as black as Mairon does.

"That was not what I had in mind," the elf says; his hands curl on your shoulders as he pulls your face to his, mouth to mouth.

You respond on ancient instinct. His mouth is open against yours. You run your tongue across his mouth, tasting iron and copper; your hands settle on his hips to keep him steady as he lets you in, sating a hunger you do not let yourself indulge in often. He is blood-warm and his hands are eager on you, urging you to kiss deeper, plunder more from him.

His cheeks are flushed when the two of you finally break to breathe. He clings to you as you draw back an inch. "Satisfied?"

"Very," the elf says. "He does not kiss as gently as you do."

You cannot help but snicker at being called gentle; you are hardly that. It is that Mairon works his lovers to the bone. "I am no friend of elves, but the one called Sauron is a greater threat to both of us than we are to each other. Will you let me rescue you?"

"You may. I had thought I'd need to sever my thumb. Do you have any better ideas?"

"Yes," and you bring your black knife up and drive it into the cuff. It melts under the touch of a shard of Morgoth's crown, allowing you to pry the warped metal off the elf's wrist. "Are you satisfied?"

"Very," the elf says, rubbing his wrist. He takes a small bag from the table and tucks it into his robes, then gingerly clambers back onto the floor. You take his elbow to make the fall smoother. "Do I have the honor of knowing who my escort is?"

The dim light of the candles flashes over the steel in his eyes, the crooked smile, turns his hair rusty, and you remember where you've seen his features before. "I am Adar, one of the Moriandor who lead the Uruk legions of Angband against your kin, Nelyafinwe Feanorian and his brothers. Will that be a problem?"

"I've worked with plenty of people who wanted my family dead. At least you're up front about it," the elf says, and there's life returning to his eyes as you walk him to the stairs, crown shard in hand. "I am Celebrimbor Curufinwean, last of the House of Feanor and lord of this city."

"You are going to be just as much of a pain as your uncle was," you say fondly. "We shall battle for the fate of this land later. We have bigger fish to fry."

Including, you think as Celebrimbor takes your hand, the fact that you've stolen into Mairon's tower, Mairon's cellblock, and stolen the prisoner he must be using to control this city. Taken a taste of him in the very heart of the forges. You will take all this elf offers up so that when you face Mairon, he can smell just how much of what was his you have made your own.

BRIMBY!!!!!

Also fact that Adar ASKS for permission to rescue him... I DIED.

[berryblooo]

Scaramona (as in the Harbinger, Scaramouche, and Mona) will always be the blueprint for the bickering, the clash of beliefs and worldviews, but more and more I come to love and appreciate Wandermona.

As the Wanderer, he’s now had to confront his previously held notions, to challenge his sense of self and his place in the world. He is discovering who he can be in this second chance he’s been given.

Mona’s story is still just beginning. Like Scaramouche, she has a very defined sense of self—genius astrologist, set on surpassing her master. I believe that also like Scaramouche, she will be forced to confront her worldviews when they are thrown back in her face (“The stars, the sky… it’s all a gigantic hoax. A lie.”) and have to redefine herself with this new knowledge.

Where Scaramona was about bickering and clashing ideals, I see Wandermona has an opportunity for discovery, reflection, overcoming. Traveling Teyvat together is one of my favorite headcanons (it’s almost a motif for me at this point) for them, and it suits Wandermona even more than Scaramona.

Mona and the Wanderer, trekking across the seven nations, sleeping under the stars, stopping by every bookstore and library to read, arguing about academics and the nature of fate and self-determination.