#I love love love pen pals

[unknownmads]

CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI

CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)

☆☆☆

thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.

Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).

Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.

Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website

Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.

Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.

Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.

~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~

Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.

~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~

he wanted to be nonchalant.

Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called

“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”

Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.

Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.

Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

[stoneshipper]

imagine your f/o...

... writing you a love letter! they'd put careful care and consideration into every aspect of it - from the stationary to the pen they use to write to you. maybe their handwriting is naturally neat, or perhaps they write with such quick passion that it's harder to decipher. in any case, their letter is filling with nothing but compassionate words that they hope to use to brighten your day and make your heart feel warm ❦︎

dividers made for me by kynibyou! 🍂 prosh¡p dni.

[bansurii]

Pen Pals

pair: sukuna x afab!reader

content: smut, stalking, threats, slight violence, dubious consent i think ?, profanity, choking, an impossible angle, sukuna is a serial killer but we never touch fully on that, reader is scared a lot, and idk what more is needed but just be careful proceeding MDNI thank you!

line dividers @cafekitsune

“So, what if your charming pen pal turns out to look like Quasimodo?”

“I have his picture! Besides, it’s not like we’ll ever actually meet. He’s serving life.”

Your friend gaped at you, her eyes widening in disbelief. 

The conversation had begun with your usual letter-writing ritual. What had once been a simple hobby had evolved into an infatuation with a man labeled as one of the world's most dangerous criminals. Despite his reputation, his letters had been nothing but kind, making your heart flutter with each new page. His picture revealed a ruggedly handsome man, his body adorned with tattoos that hinted at a dangerous past.

You had told your friend about him almost a year ago. Predictably, she responded with trepidation, urging you to choose a less notorious correspondent. 

“He’s still a person,” you’d argue. “Even the most hated need love too. And what harm could he do if he never knows where I live, let alone what I look like?”

However, his latest request had unsettled you both. He wanted a picture of you, something to remember you by during lonely times. Your friend was livid when you mentioned it.

“You cannot send him a picture! What if he has friends on the outside? I refuse to become a target because of your bad decisions!”

You laughed it off, continuing to write a diplomatic yet affectionate refusal. Your friend, exasperated, finally sighed in defeat.

“Well, enjoy writing to the serial killer. I’m staying at my boyfriend’s place for a while. If he gets out and comes after you, call the police first, then me.”

You reassured her with a laugh, promising to be cautious. She hugged you tightly before leaving. Neither of you noticed the grey car parked across the street, its presence having become so familiar it was easily ignored.

The following evening, a knock at your door startled you. Expecting your friend, you were puzzled to find no one there. Just a box. 

With a mix of excitement and dread, you approached the door. The box bore a note in handwriting you recognized instantly:

*Such a beautiful home. I thought you would enjoy a little gift from the other side…*

Your anxiety surged. You scanned the empty, unnaturally quiet street before retreating inside. The flickering streetlight across from your home seemed dimmer than usual, casting eerie shadows. A rustle in the bushes sent you scurrying back inside, locking the doors and setting the alarm with trembling hands.

The box sat ominously on your coffee table. Despite your curiosity, fear kept you from opening it. Instead, you holed up in your room, hoping sleep would come despite the dread gnawing at you.

In the dead of night, you jolted awake to the sound of metal scraping against metal. Someone was inside your home. 

Determined not to fall into the typical horror trope of investigating, you stayed put. But then you heard it—footsteps, slow and deliberate, ascending the carpeted stairs.

Panic gripped you. Clutching the bat you kept in your closet, you listened as the intruder approached. The door across the hall creaked open, and you steeled yourself for the worst. But then you recognized the sounds—muffled giggles and a familiar voice.

Relief washed over you. Your friend had returned, and apparently brought her boyfriend. You set the bat down, heart still racing, and fell back into bed, the adrenaline finally giving way to exhaustion.

In the morning, you would face the box and the mysteries it held. For now, you allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of your bed, hoping that sleep would bring a respite from the turmoil of the past few days.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your bedroom. Despite the terror of the previous night, you felt a strange sense of calm as you padded downstairs. The box still sat on the coffee table, its presence a reminder of the eerie note and the mystery it held.

Taking a deep breath, you sat on the couch and gingerly lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of luxurious velvet, was an object that took your breath away. It was a stunningly crafted necklace, the centerpiece a large, gleaming sapphire surrounded by intricate filigree work in white gold. The piece was elegant, expensive, and utterly out of place for something sent from a prison.

You lifted it gently, the gem catching the light and casting tiny rainbows across the room. For a moment, the sheer beauty of the necklace overshadowed your fear. How could something so exquisite come from a man behind bars?

Elated but wary, you turned the necklace over in your hands, inspecting every detail. It was flawless, and the craftsmanship was impeccable. This was no ordinary gift. 

Your mind raced. How did he manage to send something so extravagant? More importantly, how did he know your address? You felt a shiver run down your spine as you recalled your friend's words: *“What if he has friends on the outside?”*

The realization hit you hard. He must have outside help. Someone capable of acquiring such a piece and delivering it to your doorstep. Your elation was quickly replaced by a deep sense of unease. 

How long had he known where you lived? You thought back to the grey car that had been parked across the street. Was it connected? Had you been watched?

You set the necklace back in the box, hands trembling. The beauty of the gift now seemed tainted by the sinister implications. Your friend's warnings echoed in your mind: *“I am not going to die because of your bad decisions!”* You couldn’t ignore the danger any longer.

Reaching for your phone, you dialed your friend’s number. She answered on the third ring, her voice groggy with sleep.

“Hey, it’s me. You were right. We need to talk.”

Later that day, your friend arrived, her face a mix of concern and frustration. You showed her the necklace, and she gasped.

“This is... gorgeous. But it’s also terrifying. How did he send this?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “And I don’t know how he found my address.”

She paced the room, glancing nervously out the window. “We need to call the police. This is beyond creepy.”

You nodded, knowing she was right. The thrill of your pen pal had turned into something dangerous, something that required more than just caution. As you picked up the phone to dial the authorities, you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you, the sense of being watched. The beautiful necklace now felt like a heavy weight, a symbol of the peril you had unwittingly invited into your life.

As you waited for the police to arrive, you couldn’t help but wonder about the man who had written such kind letters. Was he truly as dangerous as they said, or was there more to the story? Either way, you knew you couldn’t continue the correspondence. The price of your curiosity had become too high, and your safety was worth far more than any thrill or beautiful gift.

A few weeks had passed, and your friend continued to stay with her boyfriend, feeling guilty for leaving you alone but too scared to return. She called you every day, ensuring you were unharmed and feeling as well as could be expected. The police had stationed an officer outside your house during those weeks, but with no further incidents, they eventually recalled the officer. They advised you to call if anything came up, assuring you they would do their best to keep you safe. You had downplayed the threat, omitting any mention of your pen pal. Had they known the full extent, they might have placed you under witness protection.

Unfortunately, the eerie calm was shattered today.

The grey car had returned, and this time, you could make out the driver. He bore a stark resemblance to the picture you had seen of your pen pal, the world’s most dangerous criminal, now sitting outside your home, watching and waiting. But for what? What did he plan to do once you were alone?

You couldn't call out from work again, needing to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Steeling yourself, you put on your best intimidating face and walked to your car, though you felt more like a deer caught in headlights. Ignoring the piercing, watchful eyes of the man was harder than you imagined, but you managed to get into your car and drive away.

You knew it was foolish to drive to work, thinking he might follow you, but if he knew your address, he likely knew where you worked. At least at work, you'd be surrounded by people and security personnel. If he tried anything—which you doubted he would in such a public setting—there would be help nearby.

The day dragged on, dread gnawing at you. Your focus was shattered, and your supervisor almost reprimanded you until they realized how shaken you were. They backed off, giving you space to regain your composure. HR knew something was seriously wrong but couldn’t disclose details to anyone else, offering you a temporary reprieve.

But this day was particularly harrowing, and you barely made it through. As the workday ended, you practically sprinted to your car, seeking the relative safety it offered while there were still people around.

Home was a different story.

You entered, not realizing the door had been unlocked until you were already in the living room. Shock, dread, and fear flooded you as you saw him there, seated on your sofa.

He was casually examining a picture of you with your friend, family, and your old pet. He looked content, as if he belonged there, as if he were truly at home.

Panic surged. You wondered what he could do to you in such close quarters. Thick walls muted sounds from neighboring homes; no one would hear you in time. You felt paralyzed, unsure of what to do if he made a move.

He shifted his position, dropping one leg and crossing the other, all the while holding your gaze. He took in your presence, the real you, not just the image he had studied. You were no longer a picture, but flesh and blood, standing before him.

“Nice to meet you, [Your Name].”

You had never told him your real name, only an alias. Somehow, he had discovered your true identity, just as he had found your address.

“I hope you don’t mind my intrusion. I couldn’t resist, especially after a month of silence from you. I noticed you called the police. I'm quite impressed that you managed to keep my presence in your life a secret.”

You trembled, tears starting to well in your eyes and trickle down your face.

“Ah, don’t cry. I’m not here to harm you. What I have in mind will be much more pleasurable. For both of us.”

His words chilled you to the core. The beauty of the necklace, the allure of his letters, all seemed like a distant dream compared to the present reality. You stood frozen, unable to move or speak, as he smiled at you, his intentions shrouded in menace and mystery.

“I-I…” 

The tears began to slow, your breath evening out as a semblance of calm started to return. He watched you closely, giving you a moment to dry your face and find the words that had eluded you. 

But silence persisted. Your thoughts were in disarray, still grappling with the reality of his sudden presence. He seemed to sense your inner turmoil, knowing you needed time to process the situation. As he approached, his imposing figure loomed over you, each step bringing him closer.

Realizing his intent, you instinctively retreated, but his long strides easily closed the distance. Your back met the cold, unyielding wall, trapping you. You wished you could tear it down, burrow into an indestructible sanctuary, and escape the nightmare your life had become. 

His proximity was overwhelming, a blend of menace and fascination, as you stood frozen, unable to tear your gaze from his. The intensity of the moment hung heavy in the air, a storm of emotions threatening to consume you both.

He continued to close the distance, his presence suffocating yet electrifying. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he drew nearer, until he was mere inches away. He raised his arms, placing his hands on the wall on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. The scent of him, a mix of cologne and something distinctly male, enveloped you.

"Is this what you like?" he asked, his voice a low, tantalizing murmur. His eyes bored into yours, searching for a reaction.

Your breath hitched, the proximity overwhelming your senses. The thrill of fear and an unexpected surge of excitement coursed through you, leaving you dizzy and unable to respond.

"Tell me," he continued, leaning in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Is this what you've been waiting for?"

The intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his breath, and the sheer force of his presence made it hard to think, let alone speak. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, your mind a chaotic mix of fear, confusion, and a strange, unwelcome attraction. His dominance was intoxicating, leaving you both terrified and inexplicably drawn to him.

His hands remained on the wall, trapping you, as his eyes continued to hold yours captive. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with unspoken tension. In that moment, you realized you were at his mercy, and the realization sent a shiver down your spine.

The intensity in his gaze didn't waver as he spoke again, his voice a silken whisper. "Why don't you show me around? I'd like to see more of your home."

Your heart pounded as you nodded, feeling compelled to comply. Slowly, he dropped his hands from the wall, giving you a semblance of freedom, though his presence still dominated the space. He gestured for you to lead the way.

With trembling steps, you walked towards the staircase, feeling his eyes on you, a constant reminder of the danger and allure he embodied. The transition from the living room to the upper floor was surreal, the normalcy of your home tainted by his dark presence. Each step up the stairs felt like a journey deeper into an inescapable labyrinth.

You reached the top of the stairs and paused, glancing back at him. His expression was unreadable, but a faint, almost predatory smile played at his lips. You hesitated for a moment before pushing open the door to your bedroom.

"This is my room," you said softly, stepping inside.

He followed, his tall frame filling the doorway before he moved to the center of the room. He looked around, taking in every detail. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt exposed and vulnerable.

"Show me more," he instructed, his voice firm yet oddly gentle.

You led him to the adjoining bathroom, your hands trembling as you opened the door. The bathroom was small but neat, the shower glistening under the overhead light. He inspected it briefly, then turned back to you, his eyes locking onto yours.

"This will do nicely," he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of something more.

Your mind raced, the reality of the situation pressing down on you. "What do you want from me?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "For now, just your cooperation. Tonight is just the beginning. After the night's activities, I might need a place to clean up."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. The ambiguity of "activities" left your mind reeling with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. You found yourself nodding, unable to do anything else.

"Good girl," he murmured, his hand lingering on your cheek. "Now, let's make the most of our evening together."

His touch was both reassuring and sinister, a stark reminder of the control he wielded over you. “Take this off…”

You were shocked, appalled even, at such a request from a man you barely knew, despite the intimacy of his letters, the truths he shared, his truth. 

You hesitated, glancing up at him with a mix of trepidation and a spark of rebellion. 

He smirked slightly, as if he had anticipated your resistance. His hand reached out, but you scurried backward, clutching onto what felt like the last vestiges of your dignity. 

He wasn’t taking no for an answer, not from someone who had shown him such genuine kindness, such unguarded affection for the first time in decades.

It dawned on you just how monumental a mistake that kindness had been.

As you stood there, frozen in your shock, he moved swiftly. In an instant, he had closed the distance between you, his strong hands seizing your blouse. The fabric bunched under his grip, the force of his hold sending a jolt through you.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his voice a velvet threat. “You and I both know this was inevitable.”

His words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the palpable tension that seemed to throb between you. His touch, firm and unyielding, ignited a tumult of emotions within you—fear, defiance, and a disturbing undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite name.

“You think you can just come into my life and—” your voice faltered, the defiance wavering under the weight of his gaze.

“I don’t think, I know,” he interrupted, his tone commanding and confident. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. “You invited me in with every letter, every secret you shared. This connection we have—it’s real. And now, it’s time to face it.”

Your breath hitched as he pulled you closer, the proximity making your heart race. The air between you crackled with an undeniable energy, a mix of danger and an inexplicable pull that left you both terrified and entranced.

“You’ve got me all wrong,” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice.

“No,” he replied, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the reality of your situation crashing over you. The walls of your sanctuary seemed to close in, the room shrinking as his presence dominated. You were caught in his web, and the more you struggled, the more entangled you became.

With a final, firm tug, he brought you even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s see how this night unfolds,” he murmured, a promise and a threat woven into his words.

In that moment, you realized there was no escape. You were his, for better or worse, and the night was just beginning.

His deft hands worked quickly, yet with a surprising gentleness, as he pulled at your blouse. He was careful, mindful of not tearing buttons or threads, his touch respectful in its slow haste to undress you. Each movement seemed deliberate, as if he were savoring the unveiling of your skin, as if he knew the value of each delicate inch.

Once your clothing lay discarded, you stood before him in just your bralette and panties, exposed yet somehow still veiled in mystery. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the sight of a woman—a vision of beauty that left him breathless. He drank in every curve, every line, every delicate feature, his gaze lingering on each detail as if committing them to memory.

He had seen countless women in his lifetime, but none had captivated him quite like you. There was something about you, something ineffable and intoxicating, that drew him in, leaving him hungry for more.

In that moment, as you stood there before him, vulnerable yet unyielding, he realized just how much he craved you. And he knew, with a certainty that bordered on obsession, that he would stop at nothing to possess you completely.

You knew that begging would likely be futile, so you chose silence instead, allowing your gaze to wander anywhere but at him and what he was doing. But he seemed to revel in being watched, his ego swelling as he unveiled each layer of your clothing.

His touch was insistent as his index finger and thumb grasped your chin, forcing your gaze to remain solely on him. You felt a surge of defiance rise within you, but it was quickly quelled by the intensity of his gaze.

With practiced ease, he removed your bra, followed by your panties. The air between you crackled with tension as he exposed you completely, and you couldn't help but feel exposed and vulnerable under his scrutiny.

A low groan escaped him, barely audible but unmistakable. It was a sound of longing, of desire unleashed after years of confinement. You realized then just how long it had been since he had seen a living, breathing woman, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You stood there, naked and exposed, feeling his eyes on you like a physical touch. There was something primal in the way he looked at you, as though he were seeing you for the first time, drinking in every curve and contour of your body.

You tried to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was difficult under his relentless gaze. You felt stripped bare, not just of your clothing but of your defenses, your vulnerabilities laid bare before him.

As he stepped closer, the heat of his body enveloping you, you knew that there was no turning back. The night stretched out before you, a vast unknown filled with equal parts fear and fascination. And as he reached out to pull you closer, you couldn't help but wonder what other surprises lay in store.

Your cheek pressed into the cold, quartz floor of your bathroom, every nerve ending alive with sensation. You could feel the weight of him behind you, his eyes drinking in the sight of your rear pressing against his hips. His blazer, shirt, and pants had been discarded, leaving him in just his boxers. Despite the fabric that still separated your bodies, you felt everything from him—his warmth, his strength, his desire.

He had positioned you in a neat arch, your body stretched taut, every muscle straining against the confines of your own submission. His command was clear: remain still, hold that position until he was ready to take you further.

You obeyed, every fiber of your being thrumming with anticipation and fear. The cold floor beneath you was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from him, and the sensation only heightened your awareness of every touch, every breath that brushed against your skin.

Time seemed to stand still as you waited, your body poised on the precipice of something unknown. You could hear the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat, a counterpoint to the electric tension that hung heavy in the air.

And then, without warning, his hands were on you, tracing the contours of your body with a touch that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers were skilled, mapping every curve and dip with a precision that left you breathless.

You felt him shift behind you, his body moving with a fluid grace that belied the strength coiled beneath his skin. You were afraid of the movement, wanting to look behind you to see what exactly he was doing. And when you felt the tip of him nearing your heat, you redacted the beautiful arch he helped you to create for him and tried to squirm away.

Before you knew it, he had your hair twisted in his hand, pressing your head painfully further against the floor, his breath fanning over your ear. “Move again… and I will crack your skull over this floor and with this treasure I’ll summon something worse than death for you.”

And then, with a suddenness that stole your breath away, he entered you, filling you completely with a single, powerful thrust.

The sensation was overwhelming, a flood of pleasure and pain that threatened to consume you. You bit back a gasp, your body trembling with the effort to remain still as he took you further, deeper into the abyss of his desire. He was much too large to enjoy, your stretched muscles struggling to comprehend the intrusion.

And as he moved within you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of oblivion, you realized that there was no turning back. You were his, body and soul, caught in the grip of a passion that threatened to consume you both. And in that moment, as he claimed you as his own, you surrendered to the darkness that beckoned, knowing that there was no escape from the depths of his desire.

By the time he was finished, you had orgasmed nearly six times. The final was barely an orgasm, he had edged you and slapped your ass. Breathy laughs finding your ears and somehow you felt yourself able to share his laughter. Your cunt clenched against his twitching length, a feeling he relished in.

Just when you thought he was finished, he pushed your legs apart as far as they would go, nearly into a split, pressing himself further into you, impossibly deeper. Your eyes bulged, hips tightened and your cunt contracted against his deep-seated length once more, your cervix contracting and relaxing in slow bouts against his tip. He lifted your hips, allowing him a new arch, fresh angle, and an even deeper reach. 

You wanted to sob, to beg him to stop, but you also wanted to see what he would do in this position. 

He reached one hand in front, taking your neck into his possession and he pulled back just enough to keep you stationary and choke you slightly at the same time, the angle would do the rest. 

And slowly, he pulled back, allowing just the tip to remain before he thrusts intensely inside of you, pressing against the spot he knew would drive you insane. 

And you cursed him, screaming out all sorts of obscenities and lewd things as he continued to abuse the same spot. His girth squeezed in and out of you with much effort, the tightened feel of your cunt in this position was the one thing that kept him grounded, eyes drawn into a focus on your connected bodies. 

He had cum so many times and this position had him dangerously close to blowing his load again, but he held back just enough. He wanted to cum with you again.

Increasing his speed, he pushed and pulled inside your pussy, watching as it sucked him and pushed him out simultaneously. 

“S’kunaaaa… Fuuuccckkk! Pl-please!”

He knew what you were begging for, screaming out his name for. And he was so close to giving it to you. He had to give you what you wanted since you had been so obedient for him all night. He was nearing his end, bringing his free hand down to your clit and rubbing dangerous circles and odd shapes into it, nearly ritualistic in his methods and just he groaned his approval, you squirted. Full-body quakes erupting, your eyes rolling back into your head. Anyone watching the scene would have thought you were having a seizure. 

But Sukuna knew. And you knew.

It was simply nirvana.

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

imagining a modern au with cam, pal, and dulcie where palamedes is like yes this is my wife dulcinea and then camilla walks into the room and plops down like hip-to-hip on the couch between them and pal just leans his head against her shoulder without thinking about it and dulcie starts playing with her hair. at least one of them is already halfway into her lap. and the person very reasonably asks something along the lines of "oh, are you guys poly?" and the three of them are like. no of course not why do you ask.

[crazy-ache]

Dear Lucien, Dear Elain: An Epistolary Fic (Chapters 12 & 13 - FINAL Update)

Title: Dear Lucien, Dear Elain: An Epistolary Fic (Chapter XII & XIII - Now Complete) Rating: M Summary:

“Perhaps you can speak them to me, if you so wish. I apologize if that is too forward, but I yearn to know you beyond simple pleasantries.

Yours truly,

Lucien

P.S. My lady, your secrets are always safe with me.”

Epistolary (adj., of a literary work) in the form of letters. After the winter solstice in ACOSF, Elain and Lucien exchange letters as a means to get to know each other away from prying eyes. This fic is a collection of those letters.

Author’s Note: This is the FINAL installment update for our collab (me + @zenkindoflove )! Please note this is TWO chapter updates, and it is also our last, final update. 😭 We just want to say THANK YOU to everyone who has followed along and supported us! You can also find out who was writing for who....

READ HERE ON AO3

Previously On DLDE....

Another development has occurred. Nesta and Cassian are mates, not that that has come to any surprise to us. They have decided to have an official mating ceremony, and it’s happening quickly. A little over two weeks from now. You should be receiving an invitation if it hasn’t already arrived. Do you think that Spring will be in enough order for you to come even if it’s just for a day? I am in need of a date. 

Tag List: @shardminds , @works-of-heart , @the-darkestminds , @emmers-bens123 , @lmadness , @sweetnslyth , @rarephloxes , @fox-in-flowers , @lectoradefics , @goldenmagnolias , @addicted-to-nothing , @popjunkie42 , @bakananya , @scrawlandspirits , @animezinglife , @fuckyeselucien , @lucienarcheron , @mr-agent-mulder , @teddyhoneybear , @goghwilde , @starsreminisce , @bibliophiliaxvignette , @dreamingthroughthenoise , @olenvasynyt , @acourtofthought , @lplusl , @shadybirdwombat , @wormees , @yaralulu , @my-inner-crisis , @julesofvolterra , @fieldofdaisiies

[dragonnarrative-writes]

I had a dream last night that I was pen pals with slasher Johnny while he was still locked up and now I'm depressed that he didn't really show up at my door unannounced despite never having given him my name or address and he ate Chipotle with me on my couch before fucking me within an inch of my sanity 😭

You know what's absolutely hilarious to me about the whole Slasher Handler universe? I'm not actually a Horror Girlie. Having dreams about slashers showing up at my house - with or without food - sounds like the most hilarious nightmare. Soap???? John "Soap" MacTavish???? That unhinged motherfucker???? In my house??????!? Have a drabble. CW: Kidnapping/reader is taken hostage, implied stalking/surveillance, disrespect to a puzzle, implied dub/non-con

The knock at the door should have been the mailman. He was nice, a bit more chatty than you really wanted, but you never complain. It’s nice to have a friendly face while you adjust to your new city. But the man standing on your porch hadn’t been James, the affable, middle aged mail carrier.

Your whole body had locked up as blue eyes you’ve only ever seen through a google search met yours. You'd stopped sending letters two years ago, but you were undeniably face to face with John “Soap” MacTavish. He had grinned like a devil as he held up a wicked looking knife and a brown paper bag. Chipotle.

“Brought yer favorite!”

That had been two hours ago. Now, arms and legs bound to a chair in your kitchen, you feel almost calm. Soap sits across from you, sorting the edge pieces of one of your new puzzles and chattering like you aren't gagged and unable to answer.

“And then,” he declares, pointing at you. “Nae more letters from my bonnie pen pal! Figured ah was bein’ punished, that maybe yer letters were bein’ returned to sender. Nae yer fault, nothin’ f’r it. But in the last letter you said you was movin’, an’ ah didnae get the new address. Too bad, that!”

He puts his chin in his hand and taps the table with an index finger as he contemplates the box of the puzzle. Something in him shifts. The silence, the way his eyes go intensely focused, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Ye ken why ah like puzzles? Because all the little fiddly pieces fit together,” he turns the box toward you. “So why in the fuck would anyone make one with pieces that stick out the sides like this?”

He gives you a significant look, so you make a muffled noise behind the gag and shrug.

“Bonnie as anything,” he says, apropos of nothing, reaching out to take your chin in one strong hand. “Used to think about fuckin’ you all over that house of yours. Especially that old leather couch.” His grin turns predatory at the way you jolt, heart in your throat. “Oh, hen, the dreams ah’ve had of your old place. Used to jerk off to a picture of that laundry basket. Cute pair of black knickers right on top. O’ course, we’d’ve had to lock the cat out. Much as ah love an audience, ‘e don’t need to see his mam that way.”

You never mentioned a cat, or your furniture, or anything like that in your letters. Certainly, you never sent photos. The terror that had clenched around your heart while he bullied his way into the house and forced you into your kitchen comes roaring back.

Please, you try to say around the gag. What do you want?

“Ah’m only in town for a couple more days,” he says, carelessly dumping all of the pieces he’d separated back into the box again. He stands, one hand going to his belt as he gives you an exaggerated wink. “Hate to rush, but we’ve got to christen your new place. An’ if ah’m not back tomorrow, the Ghost will come lookin’.”

[parvuls]

I know I keep dropping random au ideas everywhere like a trail of breadcrumbs, but listen, I just had this thought:

bitty is a single dad to a six-year-old kid. and this kid is, uh, bitty's kid? and therefore has big brown eyes and an adorable little nose and also killer adhd. it was honestly a constant battle to get them to work on their writing/reading skills through first grade.

but that summer the kid goes to summer camp for the first time, and comes back smiley and sun-burnt and telling bitty all about mr. z, who is apparently now one of their favorite people and also somehow got bitty's kid to sit down and read at camp. possibly by using magic, because bitty has certainly tried bribe before (to no avail).

so when bitty's kid begs him for help writing letters to mr. z over the school year... well. it's in bitty's best parenting interest to say yes, isn't it?

[aurorangen]

The new roommate was Chansung, another one of Noah's bros, who's also studying history like Renee! The trio went out to get some fresh air after unpacking and Renee received a call. "Hello?" she answered not knowing who it was, but she was quickly distracted by a dog who came to greet her. The owner came after with her phone in her hand, the name Renee as the caller ID. At that moment Renee knew who it was, it was V (by @tulipsimss), "V is that you?" she said.

[mikaikaika]

One thing I also wanted to discuss was how Tubbo used this shot in his starting soon(ish) screen and how the lightning change on this shot (prob unintentionally) held a much more deeper meaning.

It started with all the light focused on Tubbo while Fred stays in the shadows much similar to how Fred was initially under the shadows of the Federation and how they did not know much about the working sof the human world. Then Tubbo came out of nowhere, - like a flashbang - bright light into their life with his talking at 20 words/minute and being the nicest person more than Fred had ever witnessed. Fred didn't even realize how gingerly Tubbo somehow slithered his way into their life making their days brighter and providing them a better insight into what it's like being human by making them feel a whole myriad of emotions.

Then the lighting changes as the day rolls on and all the light starts moving towards Fred. Just the juxtaposition of sunlight reflecting onto Fred possibly indicating how they are the one going towards the light now. Meanwhile, Tubbo is sat in the shade much like how he is left behind in darkness of grief and loneliness now that he has lost Fred. Much time has passed and now both of them are changed people but the tragedy of the circumstances have rendered them unable to exist under the same light. This also pays a nod to how their infatuation was an astute example of forbidden love on the island given how both of them belonged to opposed factions (for the lack of a better word) - one to the federation and one to the islanders.

And then eventually all the light goes away indicating how once Fred was taken away both of them lost the person that was proving to be the light of their lives. Tubbo was enforced into a situation where he either had to accept that Fred is gone forever or latch onto a bit of what could be false hope that Fred is alive and embark on a mission to look for them. Meanwhile, Fred had been convinced by Quackity that the person they cared most about hates them now due to the lies that had been spread about them. As a result, both of them continued to live in darkness never being able to find out what the original truth was.

And lastly we finally fade to Tubbo sitting all by himself in darkness indicating how he has now accepted the reality of the situation and hence accepted the fact that Fred is never coming back. Also it is so bittersweet how he is surrounded by amaranths - a flower that is important to him with regards to Fred and which symbolises death and longevity - how Fred is gone but they will stay forever in Tubbo's memories and also by yellow Daffodils which symbolise rebirth, new beginnings, hope, joy, and good luck - all of the things Tubbo has now encountered with Sunny and is choosing to focus on right now albeit at the cost of dampening his real emotions.

[mayordea]

though you'll never die, you've found that all eyes are staring at your hands

[liedownquisition]

Today I am once again and eternally haunted by the connections my brain makes between:

“Over all the millennia, only you have ever loved me, Thor. Only you have ever looked at me with affection in place of condescension. Why, then, am I killing you, and not the others? Because you stopped.” ~Loki #4, Robert Rodi

And

"Bruce, I forgive you for not saving me. But why? Why on God's Earth is HE still alive? Ignoring what he's done in the past. Blindly, stupidly, disregarding the entire graveyards he's filled, the thousands who have suffered, the friends he's crippled. You know, I thought… I thought I'd be the last person you'd ever let him hurt. If it had been you he beat to a bloody pulp, if he had taken you from this world, I would've done nothing but search the planet for this pathetic pile of evil death-worshiping garbage and sent him off to Hell. … I'm not talking about killing Penguin, or Scarecrow, or Dent. I'm talking about him. Just him. And doing it because… because he took me away from you." ~Batman#650/UtH#13 Judd Winnick

.

[plutosschild]

I’ve been so busy prepping for Halloween that I forgot to do a Halloween drawing so I’ll do one and post it another time but here’s a doodle I did of @sugarlesswriting ‘s fic ‘Clementine’ instead of paying attention to my lecturer x

[wormjuiceblog]

glad tubbo is taking a break tomorrow i need to decompress from whatever the hell happened during todays stream like just. wha t!! so much, holy moly

the moment q!tubbo found out q!pierre kidnapped fred was fucking gold, him typing in mc chat got me laughing so hard holy shit. still curious if anything will come out of morning crew knowing before him

kept asking chat if it was going well 💀 feeling that second hand embarrassment real hard (mostly during the first video he played im sorry) tho i think overall the "date" went fine? right. lol. idk! it was cute. i enjoyed them talking about music and what hobbies were!

AND THE BOOK WITH THE SONG LYRICS FROM THE SONG TUBBO SUGGESTED AAHHH!! THAT WAS SO SO CUTE

fit and philza crashing the date was just perfect too, asdhkfgj "guys this is not going well" "he's doing work" PLEASEE

the little talk they had at the end about q!pierre was the sweetest ☺️ q!tubbo just genuinely showing how much he cares for fred and his safety and being scared for him when he can't be around to protect him just awww.. can't wait to see where this goes. like can they go on that picnic date they were talking about in the first letters before this inevitably ends in tragedy?? hahah

[starsshiningabyss]

Some art for Fouling Point by @toriistorii! this fic is very fun and you should go read it.

[wolfsbanesparks]

Okie okie okie

I had a horrible time in physics class so I wanted your opinion on this possible one shot idea I had dancing in my head during class

What if Billy Batson was pen pals with Damian Wayne? Like if whatever school in Gothom Damian is going to made his class become pen pals with less fortunate foster kids, and Damian got paired up with Billy. It starts out as simple as you guess, but then the petty and Sassy nature of these two come out and the two of them are full on fighting through letters. Like that one family guy gag where Peter spits in a letter to his pen pal. That dynamic between them, and they haven't even met in person yet.

Little Damian having his first rivalry with someone not as Robin but as Damian, and low-key wanting to fight this kid in Fawcett.

Bruce: I don't like Fawcett City (talking about Captain Marvel)

Damian: Me either (talking about Billy Batson)

This sounds like an amazing idea!

And it's such a fun way to get them interacting with each other and letting loose some of their emotions. Damian would probably act like he was above this whole pen pal thing but he'd be eagerly awaiting each letter to see if he was successful in riling Billy up.

And Billy is just always ready to just rip into this rich kid from Gotham. He makes it his mission to knock him down a peg.

They would be so invested.

Also I love that Bruce and Damian are bonding over disliking Billy, even if they don't know its the same person

If you ever decide to write this idea I will be so hyped to read it!

[landwriter]

hi mutuals hypothetically if i got myself a lovely fountain pen and some lovely ink and some lovely paper could i send you poems and letters and amateur little drawings of local plants