#& ‘hard to separate’ doesn’t mean ‘they don’t exist’

[sugarplumfairy777]

🧁⊹ ࣪ ˖🍦₊˚⊹♡🍰#iamgodduh

I Am God. It’s time to wake up and realize who you really are. You are God. There’s no more pretending, no more looking outside yourself for answers. You hold the power, you create your reality, and nothing, not a single thing can stand in your way once you fully embrace this truth. The universe doesn’t control you, it responds to you. You are the one who sets the tone. You are the force that shapes the world around you. Stop giving away your power. You are not a victim of your circumstances. You are not waiting for permission from anyone, or some higher being, or a series of events. You are it. You have always been the one in charge. Every desire you have, every dream you want to chase—those things are already yours. They exist because you decided they would. And the moment you choose to own that power, everything shifts. Manifestation isn’t some mystical, out-of-reach thing. It’s you remembering that you have the ability to pull anything into existence. Want something? It’s already done. The moment you believe that, the moment you stop doubting your own divinity, the world around you has no choice but to reflect it. You are the creator, the architect, the god of your own universe. When you own that, everything starts to move in your favor. It’s time to stop questioning. Stop waiting for signs. You are the sign. You are the one who creates. You are the one who bends reality. The universe doesn’t work on its own schedule, it moves when you move. It shifts when you make the decision that you’ve had enough of waiting for things to happen. It’s time to create what you want. Right now. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Now. You are powerful beyond measure. Your mind is the tool that shapes everything. Your energy is the force that calls in everything you’ve ever wanted. And let me tell you something: no one, and I mean NO ONE, can take that from you. You are the divine in human form. There is no higher power. There is only you; god.

Pure consciousness is your natural state. It’s not something you have to work toward or search for. It’s not some far-off destination you’re trying to reach. It’s already inside of you, your god. It’s who you are, right here, right now. The moment you stop identifying with the noise of the world, the distractions, and the endless chatter in your mind, you begin to realize the power that resides within you. Pure consciousness is the space where you are everything and nothing at once. It’s where you drop all the layers that you’ve built around yourself your fears, your doubts, your limiting beliefs and you realize you are the observer of all things. You are the creator, the energy, the force behind every single moment. Inducing pure consciousness isn’t a hard task, but it requires trust. You have to trust in the fact that you are already whole. That you are already powerful. That you don’t need to “do” anything to be worthy of what you want. You don’t need to beg for life to give you what you deserve. You already are the life you want. The more you realize that, the more everything around you begins to reflect it. Your thoughts become clear, your desires become obvious, and your reality shifts effortlessly into alignment with who you truly are. In pure consciousness, there is no need to chase. There is no need for constant action or striving. It’s not about forcing things to happen; it’s about realizing that everything you want is already happening. Your power is in your awareness. The more you become conscious of the fact that you are the creator of your reality, the more everything begins to flow. You align with your desires simply by knowing you are them. Pure consciousness is where you transcend the idea of separation. There is no “outside world” when you’re in it. There’s only you, the infinite, boundless energy that flows through all things. You stop feeling like you’re chasing something because you already are everything you want. You don’t need to force anything. You don’t need to try to become something more. You already are that power. You are the energy that creates worlds. Your mind is the tool that shapes your reality. When you are in pure consciousness, you are in complete alignment with the universe, and everything you desire is already on its way to you. This is not some abstract idea. This is the truth of who you are. Own it. Realize that you are the one who creates. The universe is simply a reflection of your consciousness. There is no higher power outside of you, there is only you. You are the force that shapes reality. When you embody this truth, everything becomes possible. Nothing is out of reach because you are the one reaching. Stop waiting for things to fall into place. Stop looking for external signs. You are the sign. You are the creator of your world. You are infinite. You are everything. You are home. You are “I am”.

[princessaffirms]

“can i manifest ___?” YES, and here’s why 💐✨

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

hi angels! ₊˚⊹♡ this is, without a doubt, one of the most frequently asked questions in my inbox right now. and the answer is always the same: YES. you can manifest whatever you want, because it’s literally UNIVERSAL LAW (law of assumption). let’s dive a bit deeper!

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🤍✨ you can manifest ANYTHING you desire. there are NO LIMITS.

the universe doesn’t separate “easy” from “hard,” or “realistic” from “unrealistic.”

that’s an assumption thing. that’s a limiting belief thing.

manifesting isn’t about whether something is “possible” or “difficult”. it’s about what you ASSUME to be NORMAL and possible for you.

so whether it’s:

love

money

a new face

fame

success

clear skin

shifting to a different reality

etc…

the answer is always: YES. YOU CAN MANIFEST IT!!

if you can assume it into existence in your 4D (inner world/reality/mind), it can reflect in your 3d (physical reality).

so basically: if you can IMAGINE it, you can EXPERIENCE it

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🤍✨ the only question that matters is:

are you still defending your limiting beliefs? are you still checking for evidence in the 3D? because YOU are the OPERANT power.

and your assumptions? they’re EVERYTHING. because that’s all that truly exists.

your 3D is just a reflection — a mirror of your 4D. when you shift realities (because manifestation is just shifting to/CHOOSING the reality where you have your desire), you’re not forcing anything. you’re simply PROJECTING your 4D (your inner world, your assumptions, your chosen identity) into the 3D.

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🤍✨ but WHY exactly is there no limit?

because the only true “limit” is the one you’ve assumed into existence.

if you assume it’s not possible, it won’t be. not because it can’t be, but because you said so.

your 4D = your consciousness, awareness, self-concept, assumptions, beliefs, identity. and whatever is held there as truth, MUST echo out into the 3D. it’s inevitable. IT’S LAW.

and here’s the best part: your 4D is LIMITLESS. it’s your soul’s sandbox!!

it exists on a spiritual plane that can’t be measured, timed, or constrained by 3D laws.

science can study the projection (the 3D echo), but not the source. and YOU are the source. your soul, your consciousness, your awareness, your “I AM” is what shapes and shifts realities.

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🤍✨ so if you’re trying to “SEE it to BELIEVE it,” FLIP it:

you must ASSUME it to SEE it.

because your 4D creates, and your 3D follows. it has no choice but to reflect YOU. give yourself the evidence internally, and it’ll reflect externally. every. single. time. you don’t necessarily have to be super euphoric every single time you affirm, you just have to PERSIST relentlessly in those affirmations.

because with repetition and persistence, your affirmations BECOME assumptions. and when i say repetition, i don’t necessarily mean think about your affirmations 24/7. but when you do think of your desire, choose to fill your mind with your affirmations instead of “what ifs”.

consistently CHOOSE your desired reality. release the old story and stop identifying with a reality/timeline that you don’t want. every thought is a decision. a choice. it’s the root of everything. every action starts with a thought: conscious or unconscious. so you ALWAYS have a choice. are you going to reaffirm the old story, or step into your desired reality? 🫶 the power is in YOUR hands. all you have to do is CHOOSE it.

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🔗✨ RELEVANT BLOGS I’VE WRITTEN THAT I SUGGEST CHECKING OUT:

⤷ shifting is EFFORTLESS — and you’ve been doing it all along 🪸✨

⤷ the REAL YOU is your SOUL — and that’s what SHIFTS realities 🌌✨

⤷ DON’T WAIT for external proof — CREATE the evidence. ⚡️✨

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

i hope this helped you realize your true power and limitless nature! as always, my inbox is open if you have any more questions or just want to chat! i respond much faster to asks than DMs 🤍

sending so much love and light <3

[altruistichellhound]

Beastars Boyfriend Head cannons!

I’ll be doing a separate post for the shishigumi. Let me know if you want anyone added to this.

I made this as non specific and gender neutral as I could. I wanted everyone to read this and imagine themselves as whatever person/animal you see yourself as.

Legoshi

Legoshi cannot control his tail around you. Smile at him? furious wagging. Laugh in the sweetest of ways? furious wagging. Kiss him? He’s taken off like a helicopter with how fast his tail is going.

Absolutely loves being close to you! Cannot get enough of your scent, breathes it in more than the air around him.

Territorial of you, anyone looks at you and he’s pissed. Not that you can tell, or anyone else really. Isn’t outright jealous/confrontational unless you are out right disrespected. Absolutely not afraid of getting in fights for you.

When Legoshi is comfortable he will go on and on about his interests. He is so incredibly smart, especially when it comes to bugs. At this point you’re pretty much an entomologists.

Teaches you about the way of the sea and some of the seas language. (You’ll probably be pronouncing it wrong the same as him..)

At the beginning of your relationship he found it hard to communicate his feelings, now he fully able to express his wants and needs. It works very well for the both of you as he is an incredible listener.

Very oblivious…

Loves taking you on dates, especially private ones like picnics and star gazing.

You>Anything else

Louie

If you don’t come from a deer family of high value you’ll be his secret.

He might not show it with words but lord does this man love you.

Endless, and I really mean endless gifts. You offhandedly mention something you like? Oh what’s this, he bought it for you! He’s out and he sees something that reminds him of you, bought it. “Oh that’s cute!” Boom he bought it.

Secretly likes it when you give him massages. Poor man is so stressed out he needs that extra care. He wants a quiet life with you. One where he can be the beastar but come home to your little cozy home where it’s soft and quiet.

Knows you guys simply cannot exist together but pretends like it’s not reality…

Openly jealous, “I don’t like him”. Tells you when he thinks someone has bad intentions. Tries his best to protect you but sometimes it’s slightly misguided.

Acts like he needs to be the dominant one in the relationship but really likes it when you take control.

A balance of all out luxury dinners and simple little cafes you two like to frequent.

If it comes to it he would give up everything, including his relationship with his father; for you.

Gohin

Works out in front of you totally not on purpose. Flexes his muscles when you just happen to be looking at him.

Gohin is such a tease! Doesn’t matter what it is he’ll make fun of you for it. If you don’t like it he’ll tell you it was just a joke but he takes it very seriously and makes sure not to tease you like that again.

Tries his best to keep you away from his work. If you want to help he will tell you no until you persist so much he caves. While he loves you he cares about your safety more, so much training. He will run you until you colapse; he would never forgive himself if something happened to you.

Tea after training/work. He enjoys making you two a drink then sitting and talking about your day between sips.

Even if it doesn’t feel like it I promise you he listens. If he is busy or stressed he will respond with simple, hmm and mhms. However, he heard everyone word and won’t forget what you’ve told him.

At first he’s an awkward kisser, but he’s a quick learner and you’ve never had a better kisser in your life.

You remain the light of his life.

Bill

Childish. Not necessarily a bad thing but sometimes you want to beat him with a stick.

PDA to the max, you’re his and he’s yours. Why shouldn’t the people know? Hold his hand and steal quick kisses please.

Not the best at planning things but he’ll try his best. His goal is to make you happy and have something that will last.

Doesn’t really think about a serious future that much. Not that he doesn’t want to be with you, just that he hasn’t planned ahead enough to really put thought into marriage and a possible family.

This man makes you late to almost everything. Unless it’s the club, he is not on time.

You basically aren’t ever not laughing. He loves to see you smile and squirm around while you laugh so hard your stomach starts to hurt. Surprisingly his jokes are actually funny and land quite well.

All his friends know you very well, all he does is brag about how amazing and hot you are.

Jack

The sweetest man to have ever existed.

Had a crush on you for thee longest time before he either got the courage to talk to you or you finally went up to him.

Wants you to be happy, in his mind he can never do enough for you. He doesn’t want you to be happy, he needs it. If you are sad or angry he tries his darnedest to make cheer you up in a way that suits you the best. Listening, taking you out, leaving you alone, really whatever you need he will give.

Snores. Not loud though, sweet little snores and huffs throughout the night. At this point you can’t sleep without hearing him.

Always smells weirdly good. Like it’s unnatural how he always smells the same and it’s never bad. He could sprint three miles and still smell insanely good. When asked about it he just shrugs.

Constantly blushing! He can’t help it around you, doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together.

Collot

You trim his bangs. He lets you but in all honestly doesn’t trust you after you cut them way too short last time. He won’t tell you that though.

Suspiciously calm, makes him a good listener but sometimes it’s frustrating when he doesn’t get mad with you.

Speaking of anger he hasn’t really gotten mad with you. Maybe a few spats here and there but he has never once raised his voice at you.

Worst sleeper in the world! Moved, kicks, loud sleeper, talks. How did he kick you in the face? You don’t know and neither does he. Scares the crap out of you, “He’s coming.” You proceed to violently shake him until he wakes up and reassures you back to sleep.

Really likes playing video games with you or just doing things quietly next to each other.

Riz

Tries his very best to control himself around you after what happened. Really doesn’t matter to him what species you are he’s constantly afraid of hurting you. Cannot let go of you even if he’s afraid.

You on the other hand aren’t afraid of him. He told you what happened and you understood him. He would never hurt you, or so you think.

Protective as hell. Does not matter who it is no one will ever get to you.

Practically worships you. Would kiss the ground you walk on if he could. Lives to serve you, you want something it’s already been done.

Constant cuddles, he always wants to be the big spoon unless he’s sad. Being around you makes him feel powerful knowing in that moment you are untouchable. When you hold him he feels vulnerable, he hasn’t decided if he’s okay with that feeling yet but he knows that it feels good to be the one being protected for once.

Really likes cooking with you and for you.

Pina

Best way to describe him is annoying, but in the best way possible.

Can, and will, talk your ears off. Constantly yapping about something and expects you to listen. He’s offended if you ask him to give you even a second of silence.

Really loves it when you touch his horns.

Best lashes in the room, better than you and he will constantly brag about this. He tells you he’s joking (he’s not).

He’s just a little bit of a freak, “Eat me.” Doesn’t matter if you’re a carnivore or not. “What the hell Pina?” You can’t tell if he’s being serious…

He knows absolutely everything about you. Some things you didn’t even know about yourself! Not only does he know you but he knows everyone else. Tells you all the best gossip and keeps you up to date with rumors even if you don’t care.

Definitely needs someone to keep up with him.

Melon

Crazy but that’s okay!

Would kill someone if you asked him to. Neighbor pissed you off? Gone. Boss is being a dick? Gone. You tend to abuse this fact.

Okay he does not know how to express his love for you. He’s not even sure if what he’s feeling his love. He knows he oddly doesn’t want to hurt you but is that love? Who knows he’s just going with it.

This relationship is pretty much the definition of playing with fire.

You get to see such a different side to him, quiet and maybe even a little soft. Sad maybe? Is it an act? You don’t know but you’ve decided it’s okay not knowing you. Even when you have that nagging feeling that you should care.

Potentially likes you so much because you are very similar to him.

Won’t ever tell you or anyone this but he likes it when you hold him. He also enjoys that you aren’t afraid of his fangs. Will bite you if you let him.

Would both love and hate you even more if you were a hybrid.

Gosha

Biggest softy with you. Would do absolutely anything for you, to him, you are nothing less than the universe.

Thinks you are the most wonderful thing to have ever graced this world. He loves to show you it too. Random gifts, always brings you fresh flowers before your last ones die.

Evening walks are the best with him. As the sun turns the clouds orange and pink he’ll tell you about his adventures as a youth and his previous dreams of becoming the beastar.

The best support you’ll ever have. He whole heartedly believes that you can do anything you set your heart to. Encouraging your passions and making sure whatever you need to meet your goals is there for you to use.

You’ve never felt so safe than right by his side, and rightfully so. No one would even think to mess with you with him around.

Everyone knows you too are together, he’s made sure of that the way he runs around bragging about you.

Yahya

Tries his best to keep you and work separate. This is not only for your safety for also for him. He never expected or wanted a relationship because of his goals but when he saw you he just couldn’t let you go.

Manages balancing you and protecting the world pretty well. Though, he is in fact just a man like everyone else.

Missed dinners often which turns into arguments which ends in mutual apologies and making up.

He is so tired. Needs you to rub his shoulders and lightly scratch his back.

Can’t really sleep but if you tell him stories or hum softly while playing with his mane he knocks right out.

Keeps you out of the public eye because he knows that if he didn’t you’d have a target on your back. Constant security watching you from afar.

Makes sure to provide a good life for you first and foremost, but also is very focused on changing the world. It is a relationship based on understanding on both ends. Compromises have been made.

You are the closest thing to his heart and constantly on his mind.

[hameesstuff]

"The Space Between Us"

Pairing: husband! jaehyun x wife! reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage | Enemies to Lovers | Smut | Angst | Fluff

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, emotional themes

Word Count : ~3.2k

___________________________________________

A Ring, A Lie, A War Between Us

If silence could kill, the penthouse would be a graveyard.

Jeong Jaehyun sat across from you at the long marble table, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, eyes fixed on his phone. Not on you. Never on you.

Not unless he was annoyed.

You poked at your untouched dinner, the clink of silverware the only sound between you.

“I’ll be in Milan next week,” he said, still not looking up.

“And?”

“It’s in our schedule.”

You finally glanced at him. “That’s the first thing you’ve said to me all day.”

He shrugged. “We’re not friends. Just husband and wife, remember?”

Right. Husband and wife.

You were still getting used to that word.

Married. Arranged. Bound by contract and family reputation and the quiet understanding that love would never be part of it.

You both signed the prenup like soldiers signing a war treaty—neutral terms, clean exits, no questions. You even agreed to separate bedrooms. And for the last seven months, it worked.

If avoidance was an art, Jaehyun was a master.

So you retaliated the only way you knew how: coldness.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when you caught glimpses of the man he used to be—the charming, careful boy you’d met once at a gala before this mess began. Before this version of him showed up with sharp words and colder silences.

You used to wonder what changed him.

Now you just tried not to care.

The turning point came on a Thursday.

You were out late—rarely, because Jaehyun hated “unplanned appearances,” as he called them. But this time, you needed space. Wine. Noise. Maybe even a little danger. Anything but the sterile, suffocating walls of your marriage.

He didn’t ask where you were going.

So you didn’t tell him.

You ended up at a rooftop lounge, laughing over a second drink with someone from a design firm. Not a date. Not really. Just a man who looked at you like you were interesting. Like he wanted to know what made you laugh, not what made you tolerable.

It felt good to be seen.

Until it didn’t.

Until you felt a shadow pass behind you, and then—

“Y/N,” came that low, unmistakable voice. Calm. Controlled.

You turned—and there he was.

Jaehyun. In black. No tie. Hands in his pockets. Rage barely disguised in his eyes.

Your companion stood to greet him, but Jaehyun didn’t even look at him.

“Outside. Now.”

You raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

His jaw clenched. “You heard me.”

“I’m not one of your interns, Jaehyun.”

“No,” he said coolly. “You’re my wife.”

You followed him out of sheer curiosity. And okay—maybe a little because something about that look in his eyes made your pulse stutter.

He stopped at the empty corridor beside the terrace, turning to face you.

“What the hell was that?”

You crossed your arms. “A conversation. With a man who doesn’t pretend I don’t exist.”

His nostrils flared. “You’re wearing our ring.”

“Barely,” you scoffed. “You treat this marriage like a business transaction. So why do you care who I talk to?”

He stepped forward, slow. Dangerous. “Because you’re mine.”

You froze.

The words hit hard. Deep. Like a live wire between your ribs.

He seemed startled too. But he didn’t back away.

“And I hate the way he was looking at you,” he added, voice rough. “Like he could touch what’s mine.”

You stared at him, breath caught.

"You don’t get to claim me now,” you said, breath trembling.

Jaehyun stared at you like he wasn’t hearing what he expected.

“Maybe I should’ve from the beginning.”

The silence stretched between you—sharp, breathless. Then he stepped closer, eyes unreadable.

“I’ve done everything to keep this clean,” he said, voice low. “Uncomplicated. Distant.”

“And it worked,” you snapped. “We’re perfect strangers. Congratulations.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I didn’t want this!” you shouted. “I didn’t want to be invisible to my own husband!”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t reply.

You turned to leave—but his hand shot out, catching your wrist.

“Don’t walk away.”

You glared at him. “Why? So you can go back to ignoring me tomorrow?”

His hand loosened, but his voice dropped—rough, desperate.

“I saw him touching you,” he said. “Laughing with you. Like you were his.”

“And why does that bother you?” you whispered.

He didn’t answer.

So you pushed. “You hate me, remember?”

“I don’t hate you,” he said. “I hate that I want you and don’t know how to have you.”

The world fell silent.

You didn’t know who kissed who first. It didn’t matter. One second you were glaring, and the next—your mouths collided, all teeth and tongue and months of resentment crashing like waves.

His hands were in your hair. Yours clutched his coat like you’d fall without it. When his mouth dragged down your throat, biting, you gasped.

“We’re in public—”

“Car. Now.”

___________________________________________

You didn’t speak on the ride home. Not with words.

But his hand stayed on your thigh the entire time, fingertips grazing just enough to make your breath hitch. You reached down and dragged his hand higher—just to see him lose his composure.

The second the front door shut, he had you against it.

“You drive me insane,” he growled.

You laughed, breathless. “You deserve it.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time—possessive. The kind that made your knees buckle.

Clothes peeled away in pieces. You shoved his shirt over his head. He spun you toward the wall, grinding his hips against your bare backside, groaning into your neck.

“You’ve been mine this whole time,” he murmured, “and I’ve been so fucking stupid.”

“Then show me,” you whispered.

He did.

He carried you to the bedroom—his, not yours. Laid you out on the bed like a promise.

“I’ve wanted this since the day we signed that contract,” he admitted, hovering over you, eyes dark.

You blinked up at him. “Then why did you hate me?”

“I didn’t,” he said. “I hated that I wanted you when I didn’t think you wanted me back.”

Your breath caught.

Then he kissed you like he meant it. This time, slower. A hand on your cheek. One sliding down to cup your thigh, lifting it over his hip as he pressed into you.

The stretch of him was perfect. Deep. You moaned into his mouth, clinging to him.

He moved slowly at first, eyes locked to yours.

“I want to hear you,” he said. “All of it. Every sound you make when it’s me.”

You gave him everything.

Every gasp, every cry, every broken syllable of his name as he thrust deeper, harder. You writhed beneath him, legs trembling, nails dragging down his back.

“I should’ve claimed you sooner,” he panted. “I should’ve never pretended not to want you.”

When you came, it was with his name in your mouth and his hands holding you like you’d fall apart.

He followed right after, collapsing onto you with a guttural moan and shuddering breath.

___________________________________________

You expected him to leave after.

You expected the silence again. The cold.

But he didn’t move.

Instead, Jaehyun stayed curled against you, arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your shoulder like he couldn’t get close enough.

“I never thought I deserved you,” he said quietly. “Not when I came into this with a closed heart.”

You turned to face him. “Why?”

“Because I was angry,” he confessed. “At the world. At my parents. At myself for letting them use us like pawns.”

“But I’m not them.”

“I know that now.”

You hesitated. Then pressed a soft kiss to his temple.

“I never hated you,” you said. “I just hated how lonely it felt to love you.”

His eyes widened.

“You… love me?”

“I didn’t want to,” you admitted. “But I couldn’t help it.”

He pulled you into his chest, arms tightening.

“I’ll make it right,” he promised. “Starting now.”

EPILOGUE:

Two months later, your shared bedroom was no longer just his.

There were flowers on the windowsill. Two toothbrushes. Your favorite tea in the kitchen cabinet—because he’d memorized the brand.

You woke up to him every morning, arms tangled, warmth shared. He no longer traveled without telling you. He sent photos, videos, little messages that made you laugh even on hard days.

And some nights, when the world went quiet, Jaehyun would pull you close and whisper:

“I still remember the first night I saw you smile for someone else. It wrecked me.”

You’d kiss him gently.

“And now?” you’d ask.

He’d smile, soft and rare. “Now I make sure you never have to smile for someone else again.”

___________________________________________

Feedback is welcome :)

[what-even-is-thiss]

It’s weird being a “smart kid” and people bully you for being smart but also teachers and adults praise you for being smart so you like make being smart your entire personality to separate you out from the other kids even if they do bully you quite badly for it but then you grow up and learn that being “smart” doesn’t exist and also doesn’t mean much in the real world and you start spiraling especially as you go into college and everything is hard it’s so hard everyone around you seems to be doing so well you feel so stupid and then one day after graduation you’re lying down on the floor of your dad’s living room unemployed and wondering if you’re not smart what are you then and you don’t quite know because all of that reading never really got you anywhere in the end because you’re right back in your dad’s living room still having feelings about how people bullied you for reading adult level history books when you were ten years old

[celaenaeiln]

Small scenario ask:

A kid version of Robin!Dick gets teleported into the present day of the DCU, in particular during one of those times that Batfamily are split up and at each other’s throats with only Tim(my) and Alfred sort of trying to keep the peace.

They don’t know he’s present until he jumps in from out of nowhere to help the Batfamily take on a Scarecrow attack.

How would they react to this tiny version of Dick and his more chipper and lively attitude especially once he starts asking Batman if these other guys around them are their allies or something?

OMG I AM SO EXCITEEDD!!

THE FUNNY THING IS IVE ACTUALLY BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS TOPIC SEPARATELY IN MY HEAD!!

Not this exact scenario but just like how much Dick has changed over the years.

This is SUCH a good fanfic idea!!!

Okay so Dick would jumps into the future where the whole family is fighting and all of a sudden, a brightly colored boy just "POP"'s into the dark batcave.

Everyone at that point had been growling and snarling and screaming at each other over ethics and morals and course of action for a case that devolved into tearing at family lines and loyalties.

The tensions are high and no one is on anyone's side because as united as the batfamily is, they are just as divided.

They're seconds from coming to blows when - pop (goes the weasel. lol jk) - a 3 foot 2'' boy in the most canary yellow cape, scarlet vest, and emerald green scaled shorts blinks into existence.

The batfamily immediately goes for their weapons at the sound and most barely refrain from throwing them at the sight of a boy but some weapons slip out people's hands too fast for them stop.

They watch with their hearts in their throats and move as one to prevent it, their minds barely registering the sight in front of them, the only thought in their heads is - STOP! As if mere words could halt assailing weapons hurtling at breakneck speeds towards the child.

They've barely started moving when the small child - he couldn't have been taller than Batman's hip at the height he was - suddenly bounced on his right foot and used the moment to twirl horizontally in the air. The brilliant yellow cape swirled around his body as he turned, almost acting like a cocoon. The batarang sailed underneath their twirling body while two knives sliced the air harmlessly above him, all three weapons embedding themselves soundlessly into the cave walls behind him.

The batfamily makes an aborted move forward, halting in their tracks as the imminent danger passed and the walking traffic light of a child uses their split-second of decision to stop to take the time to gracefully land on his toes before flipping far out of reach. His back arched back into a perfect elegant little backflips which absolutely should not be possible or done so smoothly for a boy as young as he, but the kid manages anyway to land perched on a railing from the upper batcave level, looking down at them from his spot.

Duke glanced around to see if the rest of them had seen the same thing he did. Clearly not because Bruce, Tim, and Alfred looked like they'd seen a ghost. Jason and Damian looked grudgingly impressed. Steph looked openly impressed.

"So, we’ve got surprise visitors, huh? Gee, swell! You folks friends of B? Wait a sec-that can’t be right. B doesn’t have any friends except for me!" The kid chirped - and Duke swore, honest to god, chirped - with a cheeky grin, hands on his hips like he'd just cracked the world's funniest joke.

Duke just stood there, mouth slightly open, like his soul had momentarily left his body. The kid’s mask squinted as if narrowing his eyes at Bruce.

Duke blinked hard. Am I hallucinating? Did I eat bad takeout? He thought.

Bruce, meanwhile, stood frozen, looking like he was wondering where in his life he went wrong.

“Gee whiz, mister, I don’t mean to jump to conclusions or nothin’, but it’s kinda bad manners to go borrowin’ somebody else’s clothes without asking first!” He gave Bruce an exaggerated once-over, the grin on his face making it clear he wasn’t intimidated in the least. “I mean, that cape looks swell and all, but it isn't exactly screaming ‘your size,’ ya know?”

He tilted his head and piped up, “A friend of Catwoman’s?” His voice was light, full of curiosity and mischief.

Jason suddenly snorted. "A friend of Catwoman's, alright."

Cass gently smiled. Duke suspected she had known from the beginning who he was and thus had not moved a muscle during the chaos. Duke couldn’t shake the feeling it wasn’t because of uncertainty. Nope, Cass had known. She always knew.

He sighed internally. Why was he always the last to catch on to these Batfamily mysteries? On the other hand, maybe he should be grateful. He was still wiping off the remaining sludge off his suit from the last batfamily mayhap.

"Dick?" Bruce’s voice was raw, breaking apart as if it couldn’t decide whether to hope or mourn. It was the sound of disbelief and desperate longing, the kind of ache you didn’t just hear—you felt it. Duke’s chest tightened, a lump forming in his throat. He couldn’t imagine what it must mean to Bruce, but the pain was so thick it was almost unbearable.

"Who are you, mister?" Dick - holy fuck that was Dick. Wait- Duke whipped his head around. Where was their Dick?!

Tim was looking a little peaky in Duke's opinion and that was saying something since the other guy always looked pale.

Bruce raised a shaking hand to his cowl, dragging it down the back of his head almost looking like he wanted to do anything but. "Bruce. It's me, Bruce."

"I know you're a guy who looks like Bruce, but you're not my Bruce."

If his kids' previous deaths hadn't killed Bruce, then that one single sentence did, Duke thought, watching the man.

He saw a flicker of something break inside Bruce. The hardened mask Bruce wore cracked, revealing the raw, vulnerable man beneath. It was like hearing the one thing he feared most—that he wasn’t enough for them—and the way it pierced him was brutal. The light left Bruce's eyes for a moment, and Duke could almost feel the weight of that rejection.

It probably hurts to hear it from an 8 year old version of a person that adored you. Duke realized sadly. He wasn't there for Dick's childhood with the man - none of them were - but he was sure it wasn't called the Golden Ages by everyone for show by all those who had known them then.

"Wait, Alfred?" Dick asked, boring holes into the elderly butler.

So, he recognizes the same Alfred but not Bruce? Duke fought back a hysterical laugh. That's gotta sting. Sorry, man. Duke sent a silent prayer to the man who looked like he didn't know if he was going to start sobbing or glaring daggers.

Alfred cleared his throat, rather wetly in Duke's opinion. "Yes, son." He said and smiled warmly.

The boy gave a hoot of laughter that sent the bats in a flurry as he threw himself off the railing. Steph and Jason scrambled to catch him but mini-Dick (Duke was still half-panicking over where big-Dick went. Big-Dick. Haha) hopped onto Jason's shoulder used Stephanie's back as a personalized springboard and landed happily in Alfred's arms.

He hugged the man's neck like it was a plush toy and Alfred tightly held the boy with one arm under his thighs and the other around his waist.

Duke noted with no small amount of surprise that Dick perceptively didn't point of Alfred's suspiciously wet eyes and near-silent sniffling. It was damn loud for the cave though.

"Hey, did you whip up some cookies? I gotta say, that casserole’s a real knock-out, and your filet mignon? Spot on! Say, after we chow down, how about a rousing game of badminton? I’m on fire today! Let’s shake a leg, have some fun, and see who’s got the best swing!"

"Of course, Master Dick." Alfred said and the two continued conversing as Alfred carried the boy up the stairs of the batcave.

"Say, did you get to the next chapter of Lady in the Lake? I gotta tell ya, there's something fishy goin' on there, like a real gumshoe mystery. I can smell a twist coming a mile away, like a crook with a bad alibi! Whaddya think? There’s more to this dame than meets the eye, I betcha!"

Dick's voice faded as the rest of them dumbfoundedly realized they needed to follow after the two of them. Except for Cass, of course, who was already tugging a stiff Stephanie along.

Duke couldn’t help notice Tim. The guy was practically glowing in the corner like he was about to faint, his face flush with excitement. Duke knew all about Tim’s obsession with Grayson—Steph had spilled enough gossip to fill a novel. Tim had ranted about Dick for years, quoting everything from his acrobatics to his smile. But now, seeing the younger version of Grayson in front of him? Tim was this close to passing out. His eyes were practically sparkles. If there were stars in the Batcave, they were all shining in Tim’s eyes.

“Tim, dude, you alright?” Duke teased, but Tim couldn’t even form words. He just gave a thumbs-up so exaggerated it might as well have come with a marching band soundtrack.

Duke couldn’t shake the feeling that Damian was acting a little… off. The usually fierce, unflappable kid was clearly trying to maintain his tough exterior, but Duke could see the subtle signs. The way Damian’s eyes flicked over to Dick with just a hint of nervousness, his stance rigid, like he was bracing for something, but not quite sure what.

"Is it just me, or is Dick an absurdly happy kid?" Duke suddenly spoke, thinking about Dick's demeanor. The older Dick Grayson was so strict and while he joked, there wasn't a free-hearted levity in him that his child version carried.

The kid had been practically shining, bouncing around the Batcave as if it were his personal playground. This was the same kid who had grown into the stoic, responsible, and sometimes brooding Nightwing. The difference was like night and day. Duke could see the weight of the years had changed him, and as he watched this boy, full of energy and warmth, he realized just how much had been lost. This wasn't the Dick they all knew. This was a Dick that had never seen the kind of pain that had hardened him into the man they looked up to.

It was a version of Dick they would never witness - laughing so freely, so full of life - one that was locked away in Bruce's heart, his memories paying tribute to their god-like figure he'd embellished of their brother.

It was a homage Bruce had unknowingly clung to and fed into, and a part of Duke wondered how much of this Dick, too, had buried inside himself.

Duke felt an ache in his bones, realizing just how much was buried under the weight of Dick’s current life. The boy before him was a ghost of the past that no one would ever get back.

Jason groaned. "One depressing revelation at a time, Duke." He stomped his way up the stairs followed by near swooning Tim, and an anxious Damian.

Bruce hadn't moved an inch. It was as if the air around him had thickened, suffocating both of them with tension. Bruce, usually so composed, was now locked in a frozen tableau of silent agony. His face was unreadable, but his eyes - Duke could see them - betrayed a terrible storm. Guilt, loss, and a deep, unspoken grief. The kind of grief that didn’t make noise but settled in your bones and dragged you under.

But Duke was The Signal. He was the Light, that's what his emblem meant. While Bruce was drowning in his own anguish, Duke could not afford to drown with him. So he patted the man on the back and followed his brothers up the stairs, readying himself for more horrifying realizations about the loss of innocence and joy from their favorite brother.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

of humans and soulmates [TEASER]

a/n: we all knew i was gonna tease it lets be honest (• ε •) -not proofread, there be spelling errors/inconsistencies ahead-

teaser w.count - 900+ words [current full w.count: 14k] genre: dragon emperor!zhongli, human servant!y/n, royal au, soulmate/dragon mate au, different kingdoms, angst, slow burn but also kinda not really?, hidden identities original teaser announcement

“Li!” You call out, jogging up to his side. The stranger who isn’t a stranger turns, and you assume he smiles at you. You can’t tell. You can’t see him.

Coming to stand at his front his hand moves to brush against your cheek. He does this offer so he can ‘see’ what expression you're making. Today he runs his knuckles down the apple of your cheek and can feel you smile. 

“Good evening, my dear.” 

This is Li. Your soulmate. The soulmate you can’t even see. That’s how it works- at least for you both. 

You were born with a mark on your back. Golden lines that never touch and form the shape of a diamond imprinted on your left shoulder blade. It was because of this mark you were never loved by your father or your half-sister. 

Abandoned to be a mere servant of the palace as a maid and nothing more. You’ve never once acted the part of your kingdom’s first born princess; in fact, they don’t even know you exist. Sometimes, it feels like the only good thing you got out of being unrecognized is the fact you were allowed to carry your mother’s maiden name and not the royal families. 

According to the rest of peoples in your kingdom, the first princess was still born and the mother mourned so deeply she took her own life. Thus the king remarried two years later and had a child with the late second-queen. 

Sometimes you wish you were accepted despite your ‘flaw’, yearning for familiar love. It never lingers because if you had been brought up any other way than this one, you wouldn’t be where you are now. You could have treated Li like a stranger you loathed. You don’t. You love this man whose face you have never seen. 

The way your soulmarks work is simple yet complicated. You both can meet in dreams just like this. The first time you both met was when you were 15 and to stay you were beyond spooked is an understatement. You actually woke yourself up by screaming in pure shock. He snickered at you the second time you met in a dream. 

Li is simply a shadowed figure to your eyes. You appear the same to him, a simple shadow in the shape of a human. Neither one of you will know what the other looks like until you see one another. It’s almost cruel, since you’ll probably be trapped inside this castle until you're old and grey and when you finally die, you’ll be lucky to be buried in the cemetery. You may never know what he looks like or ever get to meet him. It's tragic. 

That doesn’t mean you know nothing about your soulmate. You know plenty. 

For starters, his name isn’t actually Li, but that’s what he’s asked you to call him. He says he can’t say his name for reasons that are hard to explain. You understand though. He’s tall with long hair he usually ties low at the back of his head during the day. 

He isn’t a human, but a dragon (when he told you that, you begged to touch his ears since you’ve heard they’re pointed- he let you). However the horns you can make out the silhouette of that separate, branch off, and stretch above him you leave alone. 

He prefers drinking tea over liquor and he prefers it black- but he does fancy a particular wine that’s often made in his homeland. His kingdom has two names- one is pronounced in dragonic tongue and the other is much easier for humans to articulate. You still haven’t learned what is it though since he doesn’t often speak of home. 

He can’t stand seafood. 

Apparently he’s actually over 500 hundred years old- and when he first got his mark that matched yours- it was on the day you spooked yourself awake for the first time at 15 years old. It’s been many years since then. 

You’ve traced his face with your fingers before, hoping to get a mental feel for how he appears. His features are defined and he feels handsome, but unfortunately for you- you still couldn’t create a whole image of him in your head. You don’t know if it’s arrogance, but he also claims that others say he is pleasing to look at. You choose to believe him. 

Li loves the smell of flowers. Where he lives in the kingdom of dragons- with that dragonic name you have quite the struggle pronouncing since the language is tough on the tongue- there’s a special flower that grows spontaneously on cliffsides. The plant that blooms in three, purple stalks is called violetgrass and while every flower has its own uniqueness and beauty, he tends to favor the blue bell blooms that hang downwards. 

He was kind and patient with you. Li often speaks freely and listens attentively. Despite claiming to have a short temper some days, he’s never once lost it. He claims your presence has a calming effect on him, and should the day ever come when he raises his voice towards you, you are free to put him in his place. You can’t imagine either happening. 

While you are soulmates, Li has also taken time before to explain that additionally on his end, you are considered his dragonic mate despite remaining human. He speaks of you as if you hold his very soul in your palms and it always makes you warm. 

“You’re a bit late to fall asleep tonight,” he points out. Taking your hand in his, he helps ease you onto the ground and let your legs dangle over the edge of the cliffside. He joins you once you’ve settled, never letting himself become comfortable first.

a/n pt.2: if the whole soulmate thing doesn't make sense, i swear to god i'll try and explain it later when the m.draft is finished hngghhh. it makes sense in my heaD OKAy

[professional-rat-eater]

I do like the concept of Daniel attempting to point out Armand’s extensive trauma from Marius’s treatment because I do think as someone who spent his career cataloging the horrors the world has to offer and has no issue calling things out for exactly what they are, he’d not be able to entertain the bullshit Armand says to justify it. That just feels in character for the man we’ve gotten to know.

However, I do not think it would help. In fact, I think it’s important that it doesn’t.

I think Daniel would learn the hard way, likely through a number of ugly, ugly arguments, that Armand is much too deep in this trauma for merely pointing out the obvious to actually be helpful. It’s cathartic to read fics where Armand gets to heal but often I think it happens far too quickly. He has demonstrated already that he knows what happened to him wasn’t all okay, though to what degree he knows this we haven’t heard in detail as of yet.

What we do know is that it has been sitting in his mind for hundreds of years, undisturbed, blending in with all his other trauma, silently shaping who he is and informing his decisions. That’s perhaps the most difficult part. Most human beings with intense traumas spend their entire lives unpacking it. Imagine if you had centuries between you and what happened to you.

Daniel is the first person Armand has met who both has a modern worldview where abuse is simply labelled abuse and is actually invested in him enough to notice and point it out.

What I do hope and believe could happen, though I doubt we’d see it because these bitches are messy and we’d need fifty more books/seasons to cover it, is that Daniel is able to help Armand, not as someone who is there to save him and ‘fix’ him, but as his companion and someone who loves him as people are supposed to be loved. He can only help him as much as an outside person who was not a witness can, so the majority of the work still lies on Armand and that means Armand has to want to do it. It’s slow, and painful and they fight about it all the time, but they don’t give up.

It’s important that it’s because Daniel loves him, not because it’s his job to change him. When you love someone you don’t want them to suffer, and he spent his mortal life piecing people’s stories together. He helped Louis make sense of his past and demonstrated that it wasn’t out of some ruthless desire to be the one to get the story. He grew to care about Louis. And this is Armand. He’s in love with him, so the investment is even deeper.

When I say it takes a long time, I mean longer than any average human would have, especially since for a very long time, Venice actually was the only bright spot in Armand’s existence. I think I’d look back on it fondly too, and now he has to contend with completely recontextualising it. But look at what the first five hundred years of life turned Armand into. Where could he be in the next five hundred? They have so much time to figure it out.

I don’t even need to see it, it’s just a comforting thought to believe that it could happen.

(And it goes without saying this is a mutual thing. Armand could help Daniel grow in ways we cannot even conceive, but that in itself is an entirely separate post.)

[inkykeiji]

anonymous said: i just wanna sit down on sukuna’s massive thigh. is that so much to ask?? character: ryomen sukuna notes: anon, i want to ride sukuna’s massive thigh so so so badly!!!!! and so of course i had to write something!!! warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, size difference, thigh riding, implied cureless!au, fem!reader, humiliation and degradation, toxic relationship, bit of noncon overstim right at the end words: 1.8k

It’s custom practice, at this point, that Sukuna places you on his lap whenever he’s engaging in an activity that requires sitting; when he’s working in his office, when he’s in a meeting (because his precious little baby is always with him, no matter what time or place or occasion), when he’s reading, when he’s lounging, when he’s eating. 

It isn’t always in the same position; sometimes you’ll rest against him, your back pressed flush to his chest, one thick arm wound around your waist for stability; sometimes you’ll straddle his massive thigh, your face buried in his neck, lips painting strokes of saliva across his collarbone in messy little pecks, lashes leaving gentle butterfly kisses against his shoulder.

But irregardless of the situation and your posture throughout, if he’s sitting, you are there with him.

It is also customary that you behave while you’re in Daddy’s lap—no fidgeting or squirming, no whining or whispering, no complaints of boredom at all, and no getting down until he releases you. 

So it’s not a shock, exactly, that a low, dark chuckle rumbles beneath his ribs the moment your hips begin to rock—barely anything more than shallow ruts, something that might’ve been mistaken for an innocent restlessness, had he not known better.

But he knows you much too well.

“I thought Daddy had a rule against wiggling, sweetheart.” 

“Can’t help it, Daddy, swear I can’t.”

“Is that so?” he hums, flexing the muscles of his hard, defined thigh between your legs, snorting a little when you gasp. “And why is that?”

“M’horny, Daddy,” you whimper, nuzzling your cheek against the column of his throat. “Don’t wanna bother you, Daddy.” 

“Oh? And what makes you think this isn’t bothersome?” 

It’s not—you know it’s not.

Because as well as your Daddy knows you, you know him, too. 

His four simple rules don’t exist because he can’t concentrate when you’re on his lap—he most definitely can. If there’s one thing you’ve come to learn about Sukuna in the short but intense time you’ve been his, it’s that he retains an exceptional amount of control over himself—body, mind, and soul—and it’s a fact he takes immense pride in. 

Because, sure, Sukuna may live for the pursuit of pleasure, a hedonist in the purest sense, but that doesn’t mean he can’t control himself, his self-discipline and restraint sharper and stronger than a tungsten needle when he wants it to be. 

His four simple rules are all about power. 

Doesn’t mean they’re going to stop you, though.

Your hips are still shifting, cunt pressed flush to his thigh with only a thin layer of lace separating it from his pants, slit sliding along his firm, strong muscles in slow, hard strokes.

“Are you sure one pitiful little orgasm from pathetically humping my thigh is worth it?” 

No, you’re not. One measly clitoral orgasm probably isn’t worth the hefty punishment that’s going to follow, but you’re too sleepy, too needy, to care. 

An indistinct little noise vibrates at the back of your throat, head moving in ambiguous motions, rubbing thick cords of drool across his shoulder, leaving tiny webs shimmering on cashmere.

Your hips roll with more purpose, falling into a steady rhythm of rocking—back and forth, back and forth, smearing your cunt along the sleek muscle between your legs.

It already feels so good, using his thigh to stroke your clit in repetitive motions, the cotton twill of his trousers providing just enough resistance to make the friction delicious, a dull, dense heat flooding the pit of your stomach.

“God, look at you,” he scoffs, a peculiar mix of disgust and devotion saturating his voice. “Trying to fuck my thigh like you’re some sort of animal.”

Exhaling a snort, he jiggles his thigh in accentuation, sneering a little at the choked moan you try so hard to snuff out, pleasure clawing at your tongue.

“I guess it doesn’t make much of a difference to a desperate little slut, does it? My sick little girl will take whatever she can get, won’t she?” 

Your head nods lethargically, smearing your own saliva over your chin.

“Aren’t you embarrassed to be acting like this? So eager, so ardent.”

“Jus’wan’ you, Daddy,” you slur out. 

Because it’s true; you just want him, in any way you can have him. 

Maybe you really are just a dirty, desperate little slut. Maybe it doesn’t matter either way.

“You know, I can feel your slick soaking through my pants,” Sukuna says, lips against the curve of your ear, dark, low voice reverberating against the cartilage—little tremors that snuggle into your flesh, skittering down your spine in a shiver. “It’s fucking disgusting, how wet you are from this.”

It is, he’s right, an obscene amount of arousal already staining his leg—far too much to be decent, to be normal, don’t you think, baby?—the copious amounts of slick making the grind along his strong muscles effortless, lace molded to your drenched folds and soiled all the way through, leaving a large gleaming patch on the material of his trousers, fabrics gliding together easily, aiding in your motions as your humping gains speed.

“Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how fucking lewd your cunt is?” 

You do, of course you do, vulgar squelching echoing out among the home office with every buck of your hips, sopping clothes sloshing together, procuring a sick sort of gurgling.

It’s so humiliating, salacious sounds complemented perfectly by his silky laughter, but you can’t stop, movements accelerating to hard, quick gyrations of your hips as you lose the friction of his pants, now too slippery to be anything other than teasing.

His derisive remarks, coated in icing sugar, do nothing to tame the blaze in the pit of your tummy, his voice like kerosene, flames flaring with every word that drips from his mouth.

“You’re so easy, aren’t you? Easy to please, easy to pleasure, all you need is something nice and firm to rub your cunt on, huh?” 

“Feels good, Daddy,” you mumble against his neck with another clumsy nod, words weighted with spit. “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah, I can tell, baby,” he snorts. “Look at how fucking sloppy you are!” 

Leaning back a little in his office chair, he looks down at where you’re conjoined, a soft whine slipping from your lips at the loss of his chest. A thick layer of sheen coats his thigh, turning the charcoal shimmery in the beams of sunset streaming through the windows. His tongue clicks against his teeth in a disapproving tut, as if it’s such a shame that you’ve ruined his trousers so terribly. 

It really is, though, sticky substance having accumulated on his pant leg so much that it’s merely collecting atop the material now, unable to soak any further. You whine again, yearning to bury your scorching face, pricks of humiliation stinging your cheeks.

“I should make you lick it up, honestly,” he muses to himself, humming a little at the prospect. “Such naughty little girls should be made to clean up the messes they make, don’t you agree?” 

Aside from the light notes of beguile infusing his voice, he sounds normal—calm and unaffected—and you’d think him to be, too, if you couldn’t feel his massive cock, hard and straining against expensive slacks, brushing against your thigh with each of circle of your hips. 

It twitches a little with every gentle graze of your body, but Sukuna does nothing to pursue it, nothing to satisfy it or solve the problem, too focused on you to care.

Your arms wind around his neck, bringing him back to you with a discontented little mewl, and he laughs again, going willingly. 

Always so needy. 

You’re really riding his thigh now, vigorous enough that the wheels of his office chair shift against the hardwood, Sukuna planting his feet more resolutely, keeping you both in place, muscles pulled taut with the motion.

Damp little moans seep into the skin of his neck as your hips work, each one pushed from your throat on an airy little gasp, and he can tell that you’re close.

Because that’s so easy, too—you’re so fucking obvious with it, with the way your thighs keep tensing around him, almost as if they’re trying to readjust their grip; squeeze him tighter, hump him harder, siphon his thigh up further, urgently chasing that building high.

That heavy heat is amassing in the pit of your stomach, sinking into your gut as it grows with every swivel of your hips, hotter and hotter, higher and higher until it feels smothering, sweltering, engulfing you from the inside out and weeping through your pores, ragged little pants of his title exhaled from parted lips. 

“You’re such a perverted little girl,” he murmurs in your ear, voice deep and decadent, tinged with just a hint of amusement. “What would everyone think if they knew how sordid that pretty little mind of yours really is? All of your university professors who praised you so much, all of your esteemed colleagues at work, how would they feel to know of your true nature?” 

“They’d be disgusted,” you sigh out, almost dreamily. 

A chuckle rumbles behind his ribs, rubbing his jaw line along your temple in a possessive caress. 

“Yeah, they would. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’re so sick.” 

“Only for you, Daddy, always for you, Daddy.”

“That’s right,” he purrs, hands finally finding their rightful place on your hips, so massive the tips of his thumbs overlay your ribs. “Now be a good dirty girl for Daddy and make a mess all over his thigh, sweetheart.” 

And that’s all the permission you need, really. 

Oh, it’s so cute, the way your cunt clenches against his sculpted muscles, the way he feels your hole flutter eagerly around nothing as wet, sticky warmth floods his thigh, the way your clit throbs in time with it, pressed tightly to his leg.

You’re whimpering out his name, skin clammy and glittering with sweat, tiny dewdrops beaded along your temples catching in the waning sun rays as you snuggle into his jaw, pliant and languid.

But Daddy isn’t done with you just yet.

The hands on your waist flex, blunt nails carving deep crescents into the flesh—latched onto you, firm and stable, using his grip as leverage to force your hips to keep moving, even as they start to jerk.

A hiss is spit through the gaps of your teeth, sharp and sudden, whole body recoiling from the involuntary overstimulation. Shudders ripple through your flesh in vicious bouts as Sukuna aggressively rubs your sensitive cunt along his leg, pressing his thigh upward and grinding strong, defined muscle into your aching clit. 

“Daddy!” you wail, clinging to him despite the agony, fingers twisting knots in his immaculately pressed dress shirt. “St—ah!—S’too much, it hurts!” 

“Oh, poor baby,” Sukuna pouts, oozing condescension. “You didn’t really think Daddy would just allow you misbehave in such a manner and get off without some sort of punishment, did you?” 

No, you didn’t; of course you didn’t, but—

“Quite stupid, my pretty girl is,” he shakes his head with a chuckle, spikes of ice prickling your spine. “You wanted to ride Daddy’s thigh, so you are going to ride Daddy’s thigh, over and over and over again until your cute lil cunt has been rubbed raw, until Daddy decides it’s enough.” 

[saixria]

The ICHBW live stream animatic is hitting me hard hours after the fact I’m not a crier but I’m actually tearing up. Now I can fully articulate what I love about Athena’s part. Athena’s character came together so well I love it and I think the visuals combined with a day more of thinking + discussing with friends really helped me better understand everything. Those last 90 seconds of ICHBW was the BEST PART OF THE ENTIRE SHOW. Ridiculously long Athena character analysis under the cut which quickly devolves into thematic discussion lmao

First of all, the expressions they have on the animatic makes it abundantly clear that ody and Athena weren’t separated. HER SMILE!! HER LIGHTNING SCAR!! ODYSSEUS’ EXPRESSION SOFTENED TO A SMILE AFTER GETTING OUT OF QUICK THOUGHT!! Odysseus definitely pieced together what she did for her right then, there’s no other reason for Jorge to show Athena showing Odysseus that scar otherwise. It’s like they immediately slid back into place like puzzles pieces even after 10 years. They’ve been changed in completely opposite ways. Odysseus the mortal has been turned to be less human, more ruthless, while Athena the immortal goddess has been turned to be more human, more empathetic. The latter partially because of Odysseus. Tbh Athena ever showing her face to Odysseus after My Goodbye and saying “I can’t help but feel like I’ve led you astray” is as close to an apology as it’s gonna get LMAO. The unresolved WOTM melody in the end is actually because their story together hasn’t ended, it’s because Odysseus doesn’t have to be her warrior of the mind anymore.

I once said that open arms is more than mercy, but treating the world kindly to lead to kinder souls down the road, to change the world for the better, and it holds true even more now. Odysseus is too tired for this. He’s just a man, he knows a better world is possible but he can no longer be a part of it. He can’t witness the better world in his short mortal lifetime, he just wants his happy ending with his wife. He doesn’t want to be Athena’s warrior of the mind anymore, and that’s ok. And yet, and yet he knows it is possible. He needs it to be possible, and he needs Athena to make it possible. Athena accepts it with a soft “very well”. That doesn’t mean they won’t ever see each other again, just that they no longer have that obligation of mentor-student, they’re just two old friends. They can rebuild their relationship slowly but surely with what they have.

Telemachus is the Warrior of the Mind now (AHHHHHH HIS ATHENA CAPE AND HELMET I LOVE HIS UPGRADE). From here, Telemachus and Athena are gonna truly fulfill Athena’s mission of “making a greater tomorrow” except it isn’t to turn the world more logical and ruthless like she once thought, but to make the world more empathetic and kind — she’s finally found what she was fighting for. Perhaps this is why the WOTM melody in God Games ended with Legendary — Telemachus is the new warrior of the mind. Odysseus fought for a world where his son can be safe and grow up kind and he succeeded in that. Far from war, Telemachus grew up able to afford kindness and empathy while also retaining the ability to be ruthless in face of obstacles — and now he can use this to change the world to Athena’s new ideal — where people held each other with more empathy — as Athena’s new Warrior of the Mind.

Athena’s verse existing is a sign of her reconciliation with Odysseus (in character might I add! I don’t think they’re the type to express their affection so easily, they know each other so we’ll that they just know), so instead her verse is there to expand on the show’s theme as I will be talking about next.

I absolutely adore the depth Athena’s ICHBW verse adds to the thesis of the show. I’ve always thought of epic as mostly being about how it was best to strive for a balance between ruthlessness and open arms, but circumstances only allowed Odysseus to become ruthless which was tragic, while different circumstances allowed Telemachus to be both. But it’s not just that. Sure it’s good to have a balance between the two ideaologies but what if we could make a world where ruthlessness wasn’t needed at all? What if we could be unconditionally kind and be treated with kindness in return instead of taken advantage of or hurt? Where, when given the choice between open arms and ruthlessness, people would choose open arms? It wasn’t possible for these characters, but it could happen someday in the future. If Athena and Telemachus can work towards that future so can we. So should we, considering we’re in a much better place compared to them. A friend of mine said this was a call to action to us in the present and I just. Have not been able to stop thinking about it.

Athena has always thought in “maybes” about her purpose. from WOTM to My Goodbye we’ll be fine to ICHBW. “Maybe one day…” -> “One day you’ll…” -> “maybe if I…” -> “what if…” it’s like she’s representing the future, the “greater tomorrow” of what could be, because as Odysseus said, she’s immortal and she will live to see it and change it. Circe saga has something similar — “Maybe showing one act of kindness leads to kinder souls down the road”, “maybe one day the world will need a puppeteer no more, or maybe one day the world will need a puppeteer more”. The connection of these hypotheticals “maybe one day” with a future world that could possibly be changed for the better by spreading kindness and open arms extends from Athena’s songs to There are Other Ways, one of the only times in the musical where, when Circe could choose between ruthlessness and mercy, she chose to show mercy and help them in hopes of spreading kindness to the world and making the world a slightly better place — aka a scenario that showed how unconditional kindness, “open arms”, could work, for kindness isn’t the inability to be cruel but choosing kindness even when you have the choice not to be. “Kindness is brave”, like Polites said.

Because of her immortality, Athena is the character who’s most connected to “time” in the musical with her time-related abilities like “time dive”, making people think quicker, having a domain essentially outside of time and space… She doesn’t just have a connection with the future but also the past. As someone who lives forever, she is the one who can connect the past, learning from past mistakes, to change the future: “To fall is to learn one way”.

Speaking of her connection to time, You can almost see that at one point Athena was the narrator of the story (see cut songs: full speed ahead demo and Ismarus) like Hamilton’s Burr: simultaneously an observer and a participant of the story. In the animatic of ICHBW she’s overseeing everything happening from her hour glass, wondering out loud from a meta perspective about the themes of the show, hypotheticals of what a different story, a different world could have looked like, and bringing everything to a close. It really feels like Athena is who’s gonna “live and tell their story” as per Hamilton, as always has been the case from burrthena narration days of Old Epic. She’s not just the bridge between the past and future but also between the story and the audience, by bringing up these themes on a meta level to directly tell the audience to make the world a kinder place, because we have the choice, unlike Odysseus who can only choose to accept his actions and move forward. Because she lives forever she can carry on their memories forever. She can keep telling their story over and over again to remind herself and others to change the world by showing empathy and open arms, and she will keep telling this story to us until ruthlessness is no longer needed in the world. The world where this is possible is not theirs but OURS. It is WE who have the chance to choose between ruthlessness and open arms and the show is telling us that, when we have this choice and aren’t forced to be ruthless, to always choose kindness and empathy. Like Circe, like Telemachus. So that we may impart some kindness unto the world and make it a better place.

“Maybe one day we’ll reach them and we’ll make a greater tomorrow then they’ll see I know we’ll change the world cuz we are the warriors of the mind!” — yes, they have reached us. We are all also warriors of the mind, doing our part to change the world for the better, to be kinder.

To me, one part of Athena’s character that’s never clicked for me was her motivation in WOTM. “Make a greater tomorrow” “we’ll change the world” why? How? What’s the point of including this in her song when it’s never come back up again? Now with the ICHBW verse, everything is tied up with a beautiful ribbon. She has always wanted to change the world for the better, and now she’s finally found out how — to spread empathy and Open Arms — and it’s inspired by the desire to help her friends, to prevent what happened to Odysseus from happening again, honoring him, just as how Odysseus tried to embrace Open Arms to honor his dead friends’ memories.

All in all, I’ve grown to genuinely really really like Athena’s verse in ICHBW. It’s so short but so effective at conveying so much. I hope that made sense bc it’s more a compilation of thoughts I had rather than a structured essay. Perhaps one day I will restructure this into a proper essay but not today for after all I’m- *gets shot

[sugarplumfairy777]

𓂃⋆.˚ ۫ ꣑ৎ a short n’ sweet guide on how to induce the void state ft. hachi

—————————————————————————

meet hachi a young girl who one day stumbles on how to induce pure consciousness. this is her journey:

day 1:

hachi spends her first day scrolling through some of her favorite bloggers posts; a little bit after she scrolls through “#void state” and “#pure consciousness” after a few minutes she comes across a post that reminds her of her power and how she can induce the void state like literally R I G H T N O W now hachi is ready and excited to induce pure consciousness, so she lays down and goes through a flow of instructions and BOOM she is now and her most natural and pure form, which some know as pure consciousness, the void state, I am state, or whatever you wanna call it. now if you thought the following while reading hachi’s journey, you do not understand what it means to be god.

-if you thought that hachi’s journey sounds too fake or too unrealistic because she induced her purest form on the first day of finding out about it, you do not understand.

- if you feel bad now that your journey is longer than hachi’s you do not understand, it doesn’t matter if it’s been two weeks since you’ve been on your journey or if it’s been 4+ years it does not matter at all.

-if you thought of ANY limitations or had any doubt or thoughts of how you can still fail or even uttered “b-b-but that doesn’t make sense, that’s not pos—” yeah, uhm I’ll stop you there before you accidentally make a fool of yourself.

what are you talking about, “impossible” “unrealistic” “too hard” nothing is any of those words for you; a god. like seriously stop making my point fly across your head, YOU ARE GOD. period.

now for the curious people who are wondering, “what did hachi do to induce the void state so fast????”:

step 1: recognize your truth

𓂃⋆ the first step is realizing the most important truth: you are god. you are not a body, not a mind, not tied to any rules or limits. you are pure consciousness—infinite, powerful, limitless. there is no separation between you and the universe because you are the universe. everything flows from you. the void state isn’t something outside of you—it’s within you, always has been.

step 2: it’s already yours

𓂃⋆ the void isn’t something you need to “enter.” there’s no effort, no struggle. it’s instant. you are already there because you are it. time doesn’t exist in the void; it dissolves the moment you recognize your infinite nature. don’t overthink it. you don’t have to do anything special. the void is your natural state—limitless potential, pure being. just by knowing this, you’re already connected to it.

step 3: let go of limitations

𓂃⋆ close your eyes if you want, but know it’s not even necessary. all limits, all beliefs, all stories are illusions. they don’t define you. in this moment, drop everything that tells you who you are “supposed to be.” you are beyond all of that. realize the simplicity of it: there’s no need to fight or overcome anything. just let it go. you’re already infinite.

step 4: feel the stillness

𓂃⋆ once you let go of everything, there’s only stillness. this stillness is you. it’s not the absence of movement—it’s the presence of infinite potential. in this space, there’s no need to question, doubt, or analyze. you don’t need to “try” to reach the void, because you’re already embodying it. the moment you stop chasing it, you realize you were already there.

step 5: exist as pure consciousness

𓂃⋆ in the void, you are pure consciousness, untouched by the world, unshaped by time or space. you are everything and nothing at once. feel this—you are the creator of all, and yet, you are perfectly still. this state is simple, yet profound. you don’t have to do anything to maintain it. just be aware of your own infinite nature.

that’s it. the void state is effortless because you are it. there’s no process, no waiting, only instant realization that you are god, and everything is within your power. hachi did nothing but know her powerful and boom— she manifested her dream closet, her dream body, her dream boyfriend and her dream life in general. if she & so many others can—then so can you 🩷 it’s nothing that deep :p

note: the steps are not required duh anything and everything you do whilst holding the intention of inducing the void state is correct and guaranteed you are god so stop doubting. https://www.tumblr.com/sugarplumfairy777/772229618617991168/failure-doubt-limitations

[kendrysaneela]

“She’s like you. Or you’re like her? I don’t know”

That’s such an interesting line cause it’s true! While the outies and innies have different personalities and different wants and needs they each exist within each other. When Helly is Helly Helena is within her subconscious,when Dylan is Dylan outie Dylan is in his subconscious,when Mark S is Mark Scout Mark S is there in his subconscious. They’re all there. And they’re all influencing each other Irving being the most straightforward version of this what with him seeing the globs of paint sometimes because his outie always paints the same painting over and over.

They each exist within each other’s subconscious. And you can see some of the outies bleeding into the innies as they start to experience similar stuff the outies have experienced! Or vice versa! I think it goes to show what do memories do how do memories shape a person how much of you is your is subconscious and how much is your conscious memory. Like Mark starts out super peppy and happy and helpful and then as he starts to experience more and grief and slowly starts becoming more similar to outie Mark in the way he handles his grief. But that also makes me wonder. Before Mark Scout experienced all that grief was he similar to Mark S? I bet he was. Or he at least had the potential to be.

And then Irving, his outie is clearly a character that needs meaning and is devoted to a cause. And at first innie Irving finds meaning and finds a cause in like helping to spread the message of Kier and doing his work and following the rules and it’s not until he finds meaning outside of work and finds something new to fight for that he starts to become more similar to who outie Irving seems to be. Someone who is more paranoid and more rebellious. Not to mention both of them enjoying art and both of them painting/drawing the same piece of art over and over again. (Albeit for different reasons)

Then there’s Dylan G who’s outie is kinda insecure because he’s been batted down by life a lot seemingly but he does still clearly love his family he’s just depressed unfortunately and has low self esteem from having a lot of unsuccessful adventures in life clearly. But he does seem to be trying outside and his wife still loves him a lot. Dylan inside starts out confident and convinced his outie is super successful and a body builder and has a bunch of girls on the outside. Then he finds out who he really is outside and then unfortunately. Starts to have some losses inside….and his self confidence starts to fall, and then he learns he has a family and able to be convinced to separate himself from his friends because he cares so much about his family. (I think this will transfer back to him caring a lot about his innie family again) .

Helena starts to turn into Helly. And Helly shows some evidence of taking on some of Helena’s behavior and Helena’s mannerisms. With Helly the longer Helly exists the further she digs her feet into her rebellion. And the more Helena learns about Helly the more she turns into her. Helena is a woman who has no autonomy who makes none of her own decisions and clearly her whole life has just gone along with what she’s been forced to do without making much of a fuss because that’s what she was raised to do and I assume because the punishments for stepping out of line in the Eagan cult are severe. She has also never experienced love. And I think she’s probably resigned herself to this life. But then she sees Helly. And Helly doesn’t know she’s an Eagan. Helly doesn’t have all the cult programming Helena has, they can’t control Helly with threat of what her father will think or do. So Helly rebels and Helly rebels HARD. And Helly’s first instinct being to rebel is probably because Helena has been trapped her whole life so when Helly woke up on that table locked in that room her subconscious went “WE’RE TRAPPED WE’RE TRAPPED ESCAPE” and Helly didn’t have any of Helena’s fears or knowledge of who she is or what’s happening so she doesn’t repress that rebellion or fear like Helena does so she continues to outwardly rebel.

More than Helena probably ever has or at least has in a while. And she receives love for it from her coworkers. She receives love and she receives friendship and Helena sees all this. She sees this woman this other version of her who’s not weighed down by her name or the expectations put upon it and she sees her become who she’s always wanted to be so she starts to try to become that person. And when she’s pretending to be Helly, she flirts with Mark and she makes Irving little snow seals and she makes fun of her family’s lore and she’s free and she’s taking in love.

I think even with Helena no longer being able to pretend to be Helly, Helena will start to either consciously or unconsciously become Helly outside. I think it’s also why she’s watching Mark at the end of the episode. She’s basically in the middle of an identity crisis right now and she’s probably wondering if outie Mark is the key. What outie Mark is like if he’s anything like innie Mark.

I also think Helly and Helena hating each other is a good illustration of Helena’s hatred toward herself. I think she hates herself because she doesn’t have the courage to be like Helly and to rebel like Helly and to fight for her autonomy like Helly.

And they all do this because they are their innies. Their innies are their outies and their outies are their innies they are each other just if they had different life experiences.

[beelinx]

the moment i knew

synopsis: between all the stress of volleyball and final exams, your boyfriend kenma happened to forget a very important day - your birthday. warnings: kenma might be a bit of a bad bf </3 angst w/ (somewhat) of a happy ending. NOT PROOFREAD ! 3.1k words fem!reader

based on this rec <3

it was no secret kenma gets tired easily – everyone can see it, really. he has always had a hard time keeping up with his overly energetic teammates, often opting to miss practice to relax and play videogames.

there were days when kenma was just so exhausted he forgot stuff and even neglected his studies.

well, he couldn’t really do that last one much lately.

final exams were tiring not only for him, but for all the students attending nekoma – and you definitely weren’t an exception.

you spent most of your days studying the hardest you could so as to get good grades and be finally able to relax. at least you had something to look forward to, though.

your birthday landing near finals season wasn’t exactly the nicest thing ever, especially considering most of your friends would be too busy. therefore, you opted for no party; just spending the day chilling with the people closest to you was enough.

as your boyfriend, kenma was one of the first people to be told of your plans for the day. you’d been forcing him to study with you, the idea of him failing because he preferred to play video games rather than studying bothered you immensely. 

“i’ve been thinking.” you’d said during one of your breaks, a half-opened bag of chips in your hand.

“about what?” he mumbled in reply, his focus separated between the game he was currently playing and your current conversation.

“well, i know that with finals and all, everyone’s been super busy.” kenma hummed in agreement. you ate a handful of chips before continuing speaking. “and since my birthday falls in between all this madness, i think i’ll just not do anything.”

he grumbled in reply, so you continued, “maybe just you and some of my best friends can come over, and we can watch a movie or something.” you nodded, already set on your idea. “we can eat tons of snacks, too. i want popcorn – and i can get the chips you like.”

kenma nodded absentmindedly, eyes currently trained on his game system. his focus on you was slowly slipping away.

noticing his detached spirit, you quickly added, “you don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to though! i know you feel kinda awkward around my friends, but they like you. i promise!”

he hummed once again in reply and stood up slowly, giving you a quick kiss on your cheek – and that basically seemed to mark the end of the conversation. you’d mentioned the party again in later conversations, all in which he seemed to grow more comfortable with the idea.

around three weeks later, it was finally your birthday.

both your friends and your classmates at school had all congratulated you, some giving you gifts. your best friend even brought out a cake and sang you happy birthday, along with your other closest friends, during break. it was nice, receiving so much love from everyone; but something was wrong.

you hadn’t seen kenma all day.

you looked for him everywhere – all his classes, your lunch spots, and everywhere else. you even asked kuroo about it, but he told you he didn’t know, and that it was likely he just overslept and stayed home.

okay, no matter. just because he didn’t come to school doesn’t mean he forgot you existed or anything… right?

you texted him, of course. he replied to you quickly – he always does. he explained he was just feeling tired and that you shouldn’t worry, but that’s not what you were really concerned about.

throughout that whole conversation, never once did he wish you a happy birthday. it made you feel horrible. him forgetting your birthday broke your heart. i mean, it’s not like he didn’t know when he was. you told him. and, sure, maybe he was just so tired with exams that he forgot. but, your friends hadn’t. hell, even kuroo hadn’t – he wished you a happy birthday when you walked up to him earlier.

so, why did he forget?

your thoughts started becoming too much for you. the feeling that the person you considered most important to you currently forgetting such an important moment for you felt soul-crushing. suddenly, you felt tears start to pool in your eyes. you tried to blink them away – and when that didn’t work and the tears started to spill, you wiped them off your face as quickly as you could and rushed to the ladies room.

you rushed with your head down, trying to avoid anyone in the halls seeing your red face. once you got to the bathroom, you locked yourself inside a stall and started sobbing as quietly as you could.

you were suddenly startled by a soft knock on the door of the stall you were sitting in. “...are you okay?” said a soft, questioning voice – one belonging to your best friend. of course, she’d noticed you breaking down. seems like nothing can get past her.

you sniffled and wiped your nose with toilet paper before speaking. “yeah.”

“i don’t believe that.”

slowly, you stood up and unlocked the door of the stall, walking out to meet her. she looked startled upon seeing your red cheeks and puffy eyes, but her features quickly softened into that of concern and sympathy.

“c’mere,” she said, pulling you in for a big hug. then, she grabbed you by the arm and guided you to the sinks, where she ushered you to wash your face. meanwhile, she quickly sent a text on her phone, right before returning her full attention to you.

she gave you a few seconds of silence, waiting for you to comfortable to speak.

“he forgot my birthday,” you whimpered, tears still running down your cheeks.

“who?” she asked. “kenma?”

you nodded in reply, and you swear smoke was basically coming out of her ears. “oh that jackass,” she hissed. “i’ll kill him next time i see him, i swear. what an idiot. how could he forget your birthday? you’ve talked about it time and time again! seriously, i swear that guy better switch schools before i catch his bum ass and-”

before she could finish her threat, the door busted open, revealing your other two friends – yuki and hana. their faces looked red, too, and their clothes seemed disheveled. either they just sprinted all the way here, or they were up to some interesting activities.

your best friend turned around, face seething with anger, and quickly filled them in on the situation. almost immediately, they had all flocked around you, uttering many words of comfort and just as many insults on kenma’s name.

“well… maybe he’s actually planning a secret surprise party?” hana suggested, trying to get you to cheer up, it seemed.

you shook your head. “no, kenma doesn’t like surprises,” you said. “also – i’ve told him before that i wouldn’t like having a surprise party. and he knows today’s plans since i invited him.”

your best friend scoffed, “if he’s willing to forget your birthday then he’s likely to forget tons of other stuff. anniversaries, holidays, picking up your kids for school…” she trailed off, but her point had been made clear. “you should end it now that you know exactly what kind of partner he is, honestly.”

you bit your lip and scrunched your eyebrows in thought. she made a good point, and you knew there was a high chance she was right. but, kenma hasn’t forgotten any of your other anniversaries. in fact, he’s celebrated them all monthly, without missing any of them. you were close to being one year together with him, and during that time he’s been nothing but considerate of you. it seemed he always knew exactly how you were feeling, and what you needed. he doted on you constantly – complimenting your appearance, buying you gifts with all his money, and even trying his hardest to step out of his comfort zone and show more physical affection. despite how heartbroken you felt right now, it still didn’t feel right to break up with him over this.

“i know what you’re thinking,” your best friend said, taking notice of the look in your eyes. she always seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. “‘oh but he’s so nice! he’s never done anything wrong!’” she mocked your voice in a way that almost made you laugh despite the current situation. “but i’m telling you, that’s how it starts.”

“maybe,” you replied, “but i still want to talk to him.”

she sighed dramatically, “alright then, whatever you want.” she paused for a minute, clearly hesitating. “i’m just looking out for you, ‘kay? i do hope this is just a stupid mistake that will never happen again on his part. i really do want things to work out for you; i wouldn’t want you to get your heart broken – especially since i know how much he means to you”

you smiled softly and hugged her again. yuki and hana went on their way, not before wishing you good luck with your talk with kenma. your best friend lingered for a little longer, offering to walk to your next class after the lunch break, which you agreed to.

after school had ended, you said goodbye to your friends once again before heading out. you weren’t going to your house this time. well, you were going sometime, since your party plans with your friends were still on. but given that kenma had forgotten your birthday, you assumed he had likely forgotten about the party, too. therefore, going to his house served two purposes: to remind him of said party, and to have a really serious talk with him.

the walk over to kenma’s house somewhat relaxed you, the familiarity of the trees and buildings bringing a sense of comfort to your stressed-out mind. it was a road you had followed many times before, mostly with kenma, though. a sudden wave of sadness washed over you at the abrupt thought that, if this conversation didn’t go well, it would be the last time you walked through this path to visit his house. the thought made you feel sick to your stomach, the previous sense of comfort banishing almost instantaneously.

suddenly, you found yourself standing at his front door. given the lack of noises and lights, you figured his parents weren’t currently home – they were at work, probably. just as well, it might make this even less awkward for you if his parents weren’t here. because, if things went south and they heard that… yeah, you don’t think you’d ever be able to get over it.

your hesitated before knocking softly at his door. you waited for a few seconds, the sound of your heart thumping erratically in your chest being the only noise your ears could pick up. your heart only stopped once he had opened a door. just for a second though, because then it was back to beating at record speed.

kenma looked nice – he always did, in your opinion. despite his messy hair and wrinkled clothes that suggested he’d spent all day laying down, probably playing a bunch of video games, you thought he looked really good. handsome, even. the corners of your lips almost quirked up at the memory of your friends making fun of you the day you confessed to them your huge crush on him.

“oh.” kenma was clearly startled, not expecting you to be the person knocking at his door. “hey, y/n,” he finally said, smiling softly at the sight of you. it was sweet, but you weren’t here for that. you were here for serious matters.

“can we talk?”

he was taken aback by your sudden tone. it was rare for you to act this way, usually the second he’d opened the door you would have jumped in his arms and started rambling on and on. so, obviously, given your change in attitude, he knew this was going to be a serious talk.

kenma nodded and opened the door more, allowing you to enter. you walked up to his room, the house all too familiar. his bedroom smelled like him – well, obviously it did. a video game was left paused on his desktop, the music coming from it stopping abruptly as he saved his progress and closed the game. he sat down next to you on the bed and stared deeply into your eyes. neither of you said anything; it seemed that he wanted you to take the initiative.

“do you know what today is?” you asked him. maybe you still had a sliver of hope he was just waiting to tell you in person. maybe hana was right and he was throwing a surprise party. maybe.

he paused before speaking cautiously, “last week of finals?”

you scrunched your eyebrows and looked down, “check the date, kenma.”

following your orders, he turned on his phone and checked today’s date. his eyes scanned over his phone for a bit, clearly trying to piece together what you were trying to hint at. it wasn’t your anniversary, not yet. he couldn’t remember any special holidays taking place today. maybe it was another one of those dumb trends based on songs. no, you would’ve told him about that. you would’ve…

wait.

kenma’s head snapped towards yours, eyes wide. “it’s your birthday.” he stated. it wasn’t a question, he knew it was. he didn’t know how he forgot, but now he felt awful – especially after noticing your reaction to his words.

“yeah.” you replied simply, your voice raspy.

he stayed quiet for a second, trying to figure out what to say or what to do. his eyes seemed trouble, no doubt he’s mind was off calculating again.

finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

 “i’m… sorry.”

…

“that’s it?” you said, astonished. “is that all you have to say after forgetting my birthday?”

“i don’t know what else i can say,” kenma responded, “i really am sorry. i’ll make it up to you, i-”

“how exactly do you plan to make it up to me, kenma?” you asked him, trying your hardest to keep your voice level and the tears from making an embarrassing return.

“i don’t know yet but,” he took a deep breath, “i will make it up to you, i promise.”

you scoffed and looked away, “so what? am i supposed to take your word for it?”

he swallowed before speaking softly again, “yeah.”

you took in a breath and closed your eyes. “alright then. i’ll see you around,” you said plainly, right before heading over to the door.

“wait!” kenma exclaimed, grabbing your arm before you could get away. he softened his grip once he’d realized he might hurt you. you felt his fingers caress your arm softly, an action he always did to comfort you. “i know you’re upset, it’s my fault. i was tired and i was stupid, but i…” he took a deep breath, “i’m sorry, okay? i’ll do anything it takes for you to forgive me.”

hearing kenma so desperate was a rare sight. his eyes looked red, as if he was close to actually starting crying. it wasn’t common for him to show so much emotion. so, in your heart, you knew he meant every word he said. kenma was never the type to lie for his own gain. but… still.

you wanted to forgive him, you really did. still – it didn’t feel right to forgive him so easily, your best friend’s words ringing in your ear. however, it also didn’t feel right to not forgive him. so, you made up your mind on what you’d do.

you kept your gaze averted to the ground, knowing deep down that if you looked at him you’d immediately give in.

“kenma,” you started, “i understand you didn’t mean it, but it still hurt my feelings. so i… well, i’m not breaking up with you.” he seemed to relax more at your words. “but i’m also not forgiving you this easily. you need to make it up to me, and then i guess we’ll see where it goes, ‘kay?”

he nodded, “do you still want me to go to your house?”

you bit your lip, unsure on what to say. “my friends might be a bit… hostile towards you, and it may be better if i had more time to think. so… it might be better if you don’t, actually.” he once again nodded, understanding your point.

“we should do something – tomorrow, maybe. i don’t know,” you continued, “you can think about how you’ll make it up to me during that time, if you want.”

“okay,” he said softly, watching as you walked away, not making an effort to stop you this time. he lowered his gaze and stared intently at his hands. you didn’t forgive him, but you also did? he wasn’t sure what to do to fully make it up to you, but he’d have to try his hardest now. he imagined kuroo would make a comment about how down bad he’d become that he’d actually put so much effort into something that wasn’t a video game.

“kenma?”

his head snapped up at the sound of your sweet voice. you were standing just out of his doorway, looking awkwardly at him.

you hesitated, debating whether or not you should tell him that he does have a chance, that you really wanted to forgive him. but if you did then maybe he wouldn’t try, so…

“nevermind,” you shook your head, “good luck on your game. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

his eyes followed you as you scurried away. he only relaxed once he heard the sound of the front door slamming.

you might have backed down whatever it was you were going to say, but the fact that you lingered for a longer while made him feel as if he did have a shot. for a second he’d worried you would never forgive him. that you – kind, sweet, and understanding you – had finally had enough with him and would leave him all alone.

knowing he had a chance motivated him to try his hardest, already planning what he’d say, what he’d give you, and what else he could do. he kept kicking himself over how your birthday managed to slip his mind. it was such a stupid mistake, and he’d make sure it’d never happen again. that’s not what you deserve. kuroo would, without a doubt, call him an idiot, too. 

it didn’t matter, he deserved that.

and you, you deserve the best of the best – which he’ll try his hardest to give you. 

even if it takes him years, he’ll never stop trying to make it up to you.

because you’re you, and you’re way too good for him.

he has a lot of work to do for tomorrow, huh?

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐎 (𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄) ❞

c/w: spoilers for 261, angst, possible happy ending? i'm so sorry lmao.

Body and soul — many in jujutsu had spent millennia contemplating the connection between these two — were they two separate entities co-existing, or were they always one, until they parted in death? And even if they were to part — does the soul still linger? 

You didn’t know — and you didn’t care. 

“What do you mean you don’t care what happens to your body?” Satoru wiped the blood from his hands, before brushing past you to wash it in the sink, diluted scarlet swirling down the drain just as your stomach had upon hearing what he said. 

You only knew that your heart belonged to one man. And he would take it with him with his death. Even as he left his body behind. But your heart wasn’t your concern, no, his body was. 

“Sweetheart—“ 

“No, don’t,” you already know what he’s going to say — a quick witted joke that you have no faith in him, empty reassurance that he’ll win — anything but an answer to your question, “I don’t know how people call you uncaring, the only person you don’t care for is yourself,” 

The Strongest. The Six Eyes User. The Gojo Clan Leader. Anything — anything but calling him who he is — Satoru Gojo. 

He’s shaking his head. “I’m not going to lose, so it’s a pointless—“ 

“Satoru,” and you grit your teeth, wondering if your words were a curse themselves, and that you dare not utter them, but you do anyway, “you don’t know that. Not for sure,” your words are a whisper, one you think wouldn’t be heard and manifested by a higher power — because you know that jujutsu is too cruel not to. 

“What is a dead body? I’ll be gone,” his back still faces you, wiping his hands off, and you’re shaking your head, “the body and soul—“ 

“They are one, in far too many ways—“ your eyes burn with tears as you hear his sigh, “so Geto’s body deserves a burial, but yours doesn’t?” 

You stab at a nerve — it’s a low blow, but one you had to deal, if only to get through that damned infinity of his — the wall he had kept up, even with you. Close, but never close enough. 

“Don’t—“ he cuts you off, gentle but hard, sword hitting shield, sparks fly as the metal meets, “it’s different—“ 

“How?” 

“I gave my consent, for one,” he says, his hands leaning against sink, head hanging, “and my body isn’t being used for a cheap trick,” and the bitterness still lingers on his tongue, and you know the moment flashes before his eyes, again and again — if he hadn’t hesitated, if he hadn’t let the past hold him, if he didn’t been such a fool—  “they need me—“ 

You need him. 

“I know, I know they need you,” you swallow the bile rising in your throat, but you spit acid all the same, “but do they have to take your dead body too?” 

And he finally turns, skies softening when they see the drops slipping down your cheeks, and his steps echo in the silence of the bunker, hollow just as this conversation was, “Y’know I have to,” 

“I know that, I know Yuta is making the right choice, it’s for the good of everyone,” except you, except us, “but it doesn’t make it any less difficult,” 

And his arms wind their way around you, pressing you against him, his fingers winding through your hair, “I’m going to come back to you,” hands sliding down your sides, “I always will,” 

“It’s not just this,” your fingers cup his cheek, his face leaning into your touch, “you’re not alone, Toru. I’m here.” 

“You’re here, huh?” he murmurs, more to himself than you, “if I die, you have my full permission to kick my ass,” 

“And I will be,” you kiss him, fingers sliding to the nape of his neck, brushing against his undercut, “I don’t care about the strongest,” your lips brush soft kisses against your cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead, before finally finding his lips, “I only care about Satoru Gojo, I just need you, only you,”

He presses his forehead to yours, nose brushing his, “You have me,” but you didn’t know for how long, how long you could touch his cheek like this and not feel cold rigid skin underneath your fingertips, how long you could kiss his lips and have him kiss back, and how long it would be until you could hold his hand again, “and you have my heart,” and he gives a small chuckle, “maybe not the part everyone wants—“ 

“It’s the one I want,” you cut him off with a soft kiss, “I want all of you, every inch, but your heart? That already is mine,” your head pressed against his chest, feeling the muscle contract underneath, as if it would reassure you that it would keep doing that. 

But it didn’t. 

“I’ll stay,” Shoko furrows her brow, “he would want me to,” Satoru Gojo’s body laid on a slab of cold metal,  cold as his skin was now — and cold as your heart was now, without the warmth of his love to dwell in. Ugly stitches marred his stomach, right where Sukuna had sliced through him — you watched it, you couldn’t look away, and you watched the smile on his lips until it fell slack. 

Just like the rest of him. 

“He would understand why you couldn’t—“ 

“It really did upset him that you didn’t object,” and Shoko’s mouth opens and closes, her eyes shutting, “but I know that’s only because you had faith he would win,” and you add, “and he knew that too — he was just pouting, what he does best,” and your fingers trace over his lips — Shoko had done a good job cleaning the blood from his face, “did best,” and Shoko frowns again. 

“You don’t—“ 

“I’m his wife,” you say, “for better or worse, it’s my duty to stay with him, it’s the least he deserves,” your fingers skin over his forehead, before pressing a sweet kiss to the rigid skin, knowing that the smooth skin would be overwritten with jagged stitches — the thread pulled from the fabric of your own life that laid before you, leaving you in pieces, “because he may be a monster, but all of us are the real devils — for letting him bear it alone,” and you shake your head, a tear slipping down your cheek, “I won’t make that mistake again,” 

You miss who you you used to be without this weight around your neck, desd bodies piled on top of your back, back broken under the grief, and yet you still walked on. Because you know it’s what he would have wanted, as his ghost whispers in your ear. 

Body and soul — if it was one, you wondered if he could feel your touch, sense your presence, and hear your words. And you hoped he could — but you know he was listening somewhere either way, so you whispered the only words you meant with your entire heart and soul—

“I love you," you murmur, before turning away — you don't see the way his fingers twitch for you.

Those words were still a curse all the same.

[hy6erion]

Hi🤍🤍

Could you do a desire doue nsfw alphabet?🤍

🤍🤍

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 - 𝐃𝐞́𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞́ 𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐞́

𝐃𝐞́𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞́ 𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐞́ 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⇢ 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 (𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢), 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜/ 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞/ 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

A – Aftercare

Désiré isn’t just sweet after sex—he’s devoted. Once he’s wrung every last bit of pleasure from you, he pulls you close, kisses your temple, and murmurs praise while massaging your thighs. A warm towel. Water. A hoodie slipped over your bare skin. He makes sure you’re not just satisfied, but cherished.

B – Body Part

He’s obsessed with your hips. His hands always settle there, whether he’s gripping them to keep you still while he pounds into you from behind, or tracing circles over them lazily after. He says they were made for him—to hold, to worship, to rut against.

C – Cum

Désiré is possessive. He loves to finish inside you, slow and deep, watching the way your body clenches around him as you both ride the wave together. He murmurs, “That’s mine,” every time he sees it leaking out.

D – Dirty Talk

Filthy doesn’t even begin to cover it. He talks you through every second—“You like that, don’t you? Look at you, dripping for me.” He loves when you get shy about it, especially because he knows how wrecked you get when he gets mean with it.

E – Experience

He might surprise you. He’s young, yes, but he learns fast—and he’s naturally gifted. Confident without being cocky. Attentive. Bold. He gets off on learning what makes you fall apart, and once he finds your weak spots, he abuses them.

F – Favorite Position

Bent over with your face buried in the pillows, your ass high in the air, and his hands locked around your waist. The sound of skin slapping, the wet heat of your moans—he loses himself in it every time. But he also loves missionary, just so he can watch your face when he makes you come.

G – Guilty Pleasure

Filming it. Just for the two of you. He props the phone up, fucks you slow and deep while whispering, “Wanna watch this later? Wanna see how good you look taking me?” And later, he does. Usually with you sitting in his lap, your body already aching for round two.

H – Hair

Trimmed and clean, but not bare. He doesn’t care much about grooming—he’s focused on how you feel, not aesthetics. But he loves when you run your hands through his curls while you’re going down on him.

I – Intimacy

He doesn’t separate rough from romantic. Désiré knows how to be gentle, but even when he’s being filthy, it’s because he’s obsessed with you. Kissing your shoulders between thrusts. Telling you how good you feel. Pressing his forehead to yours as you both unravel.

J – Jack-Off

He does it often, especially when he’s on the road and can’t have you. And he always thinks about you—specifically the way you moan his name when you’re close, or the way you tremble when he fingers you just right. Bonus: he loves sending you voice notes of it.

K – Kinks

Praise & Degradation: He’ll ruin you with “Good girl. Just like that.” And then whisper “My filthy little slut” five seconds later.

Marking: Hickeys. Handprints. Bite marks. He wants you covered.

Control: Not full dom/sub, but he likes holding you down, pinning your wrists, telling you when to come.

L – Location

The backseat of his car after late-night matches. He’s still sweaty, adrenaline pumping—and he ravages you. The windows fog up, your clothes half-off, and he moans into your mouth like he’s starving for you.

M – Motivation

He gets hard just watching you exist. You in one of his oversized tees? Instant problem. Biting your lip while you text? His hands are already on your thighs. You riding him slow while whispering his name? He’s feral.

N – No

Nothing involving pain, fear, or humiliation that crosses into disrespect. He wants to be filthy with you—not cruel. And he’s serious about checking in if something doesn’t feel right.

O – Oral (Receiving)

He loves it. Deep, messy, and eye contact? He groans so loud it echoes. But he’s not a “lean back and relax” type—he’ll hold your hair, whisper filthy encouragement, and finish with a shudder while praising how good your throat feels.

P – Pace

Désiré likes to build it up. Starts slow and sensual, just to make you beg. But once you’re whining his name and gripping the sheets, he snaps his hips harder, rougher, relentless. He keeps going until your voice breaks.

Q – Quickies

He lives for them. In the locker room shower. A hidden hallway at a party. Pressing you up against a wall and grinding into you while whispering, “Five minutes. You can be good for me that long, yeah?”

R – Risk

He’s not reckless, but he loves the thrill. Hands under the table at dinner with friends. Fingering you in a dressing room. Whispering what he’s going to do to you later, just to see you blush and squirm.

S – Stamina

The man has endurance. One round is never enough. He’ll eat you out until you’re shaking, fuck you slow for round one, rough for round two—and if you can still walk, he’ll make it his mission to fix that.

T – Toys

He’s into them—especially ones he can use on you. Remote-controlled panties when you’re out in public. Vibrators during foreplay. He gets off on control and watching you come undone for him.

U – Unfair

He teases ruthlessly. Kisses down your stomach only to pull away. Fingers you until you’re about to break—then stops. He loves hearing you whine for it. But he always rewards your patience. Hard.

V – Volume

He’s vocal. Deep groans, breathy curses in French, and your name in a broken gasp. He wants you to hear how good you make him feel. Sometimes he even talks you through it—“So tight… fuck, you were made for me.”

W – Wild Card

Sometimes, after a game, when he’s still on a high, he’ll grab you without a word, drags u into the empty locker room and absolutely wrecks you. Up against the wall. Clothes half-torn. He fucks you like a man possessed and leaves your body buzzing for days.

X – X-Ray

He’s big. Thick and long enough to make your breath catch when he pushes in. The curve hits deep. You feel full in the best way—especially when he grinds his hips and tells you how well you take him.

Y – Yearning

He’s not just horny—he’s addicted to you. The way he looks at you after a few days apart? Eyes dark, hands restless, voice low—“I need you. Now.” It’s never just sex with Désiré. It’s hunger.

Z – Zzz

Afterward, he wraps around you like a blanket. Hand on your stomach, face buried in your neck, still warm inside you. He falls asleep like that, totally spent, whispering, “You’re everything.”

[deardaichi]

009. slowly, softly, surely — sakusa kiyoomi

wc: 0.7k cw: gn!reader. sakusa kiyoomi falls in love slowly but surely. i love him a/n: i love this man. i tried to do the request justice. i hope you enjoy <3 requested by @trafalgar-mine

first touch

he doesn’t like crowds. doesn’t like when people bump into him. doesn’t like when classmates lean too close just to ask for notes. but when you tug at the sleeve of his uniform to hand him a pen he dropped—he doesn’t flinch. he notices that. later, he thinks about the moment longer than he means to. not because it meant something. not yet. but because it didn’t bother him at all.

shared umbrellas

it rains hard one afternoon. you don’t have an umbrella. sakusa does. he sees you waiting near the school gates, backpack hunched forward to block the wind. he hesitates. then walks up beside you and holds out his umbrella. "come on," he says simply. you end up walking half a step behind him, trying not to laugh when the wind flips the umbrella inside out. you fail. he exhales through his nose. not annoyed. just...quieter. he walks home a little damp. he doesn’t mind it.

first text

graduation week is messy. everyone’s swapping notes and uniforms and promises they won’t keep. sakusa sends you a photo of a bacteria cartoon he drew on the back of his notes. you reply instantly: three crying emojis. then: "i’m posting this." he stares at the screen, thumb hovering. "fine. just cite your source." he doesn’t know why it sticks with him. but it does.

college check-in

you don’t talk for a week after moving to separate universities. then:  you: "you’re still alive?" kiyoomi: “barely. You?” you: "barely :(" he saves the message. no reason. just does.

little routines

you don’t see each other often. just here and there — a random gathering when mutual friends are back in town, a chance encounter during holidays. eventually, it becomes habit to text when you’re both home. nothing heavy. just “coffee?” or “wanna walk?” one evening, it’s colder than expected. you forgot a jacket. he notices. he shrugs off his hoodie and hands it to you. “i’ll get it back eventually,” he says. you wear it the rest of the week.

matchday

you text him before his first big pro match: "no pressure, but everyone’s watching you 🌚" he doesn’t respond. he never does, on game days. but he checks it more than once. he reads it on the bench, right before stepping onto the court.

quiet dinners

it’s a small restaurant — clean, quiet, tucked between a pharmacy and a bookshop. you picked it by accident. he doesn’t complain. you’re sitting across from each other in a booth, reading from the same laminated menu. you hum under your breath — off-key, distracted — while writing your order with a pen. He pretends to care about the nutritional breakdown on the back. you split a curry dish that you chose. it’s a little too spicy, and the rice is slightly overcooked. “how is it?” you ask. “it’s fine,” he says. it’s not. but he still finishes his half. he doesn’t seem to mind that your knee brushes his under the table.

sick days

he hates being sick. hates the feeling of weakness. hates people seeing him like that. but you knock anyway. he opens the door. your hand is cold against his skin. he doesn’t pull away. "you’re burning up." he lies down. you sit with him until he falls asleep. you don’t fuss. you just stay. you exist quietly beside him. he dreams lightly. something warm. something with your voice in it.

the moment

he gets home late. the city’s wet. his shoulders ache. he pushes the door open and there you are. you were over again — invited last night for dinner, but the movie you chose ran late and it got too late to send you home. you’re curled up on the couch. his hoodie. his favorite blanket. a half-finished cup of tea on the table. you’re asleep. he stands there, watching. breath caught somewhere in his chest. he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t wake you. just sits on the edge of the couch, beside your knees, and rests his hand against your ankle. he thinks: this is what home is. he knows. even if he doesn’t say it yet. he’s already yours.

taglist (open. ask to be added <3): @tangerinelovr @oligbia @megapteraurelia

© everything here is written with care — please don’t repost, copy, or alter my work without permission.