#divider by cafe kitsune

[thateldribitch]

To Be Tender

Yandere Floyd/Reader; Yandere Jade/Reader. Briefly mentioned Yandere Azul/Reader.

Word Count: 2114

Kind of part of a series, could be read as standalone though. Here's part one!

CW: Possessive behavior, kidnapping, yandere behavior, the tweels being grabby and creepy (but not sexual.) The ocean. Conditioning and manipulation. We're getting psychological this time bitches.

“Darling….” A warm breath makes your eyes flutter in the false dawn. The magical lights begin to tick past the faint blue of the night cycle to an early morning gray. The faux stars dim. The projected moon clicks off. A groan trickles past your lips… petering off into a whine as his limbs untwine from yours. Cold. You curl into a ball, soaking up the warmth draining from the bed. A hand strokes through your hair, tenderly. Warm lips press to your forehead. “...business trip… evening…. Back before you know it….”

Words drift in and out of your barely thawed consciousness. Too cold to go to sleep; too sleepy to fully wake. A quiet chuckle escapes Azul’s lips, as he swaddles you in a sinfully soft blanket. It’s weighted…. And that too-light feeling fades with a sigh of comfort. Sinking… back into sleep…. Hours later… the bulbs in the walls begin to burnish to a sunshine-gold… your eyes flutter open. 

You scream into your goddamn pillow.

Even the fabric smells like him. The blanket is worse, though. Gods, whenever he leaves like this he swaddles you in soft blankets, weighted and covered in his cologne. The texture feels all too similar to his skin, the plush softness of his caecilian body…. It should disquiet you. It used to. And yet you’ve been Pavlov’d into relaxing beneath the false warmth and weight and scent….. Spitefully, you kick the blanket off of you and curl into a ball.

It’s worse when you remember he only gives you the blankets when he’s not in bed with you. Because why would you need anything but his body to keep you comfortable? You’re just glad he stopped using his body as the bedding. You have something akin to a mattress now. It’s. An upgrade. Sort of…. More nest-like than anything you’re used to, but it’s… comfortable, at least. But it’s still too cold without a blanket. Or Azul. Pinching your lips, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to eke out a few more minutes of very uncomfortable sleep. It’s more irritable half-awareness, though; meditative, almost.

The lights eventually warm to something akin to mid-morning light. It stirs you like clockwork. Gritting your teeth, you sigh and stumble up and out of bed. You clumsily swim into the kitchen with groggy little kicks. There’s a lovingly prepared plate waiting for you. A thick slab of meat perfumes the water with a mouth-watering marinade. It takes you a moment to realize it’s an orca’s flank. With its contrasting skin delicately flayed and its teeth artfully scattered around the plate’s edge, the cut glistens on a bed of sea-greens. 

It’s fresh. And warm. Domestic, with the intimidating hint of showing off—look what I can kill for you. Look at how strong I am, how capable. But not only that, but it’s purposefully seasoned to your tastes. For a moment… you just stare at it. It’s conditioning. You know it’s conditioning. Bile rises into your throat. Hunger falls to a distant memory. Instead, desperation rises. A need. A need to get out, you need to get out before his calculated attempts at Stockholm syndrome really start to work. 

You smack the plate off the counter, breathing heavily. The meat sinks. The greens float and scatter. It’s not enough. It’s not enough. The exit is clear. An open cave, a crack in the trench wall. This is your prison. But why would he need a locked door or bars to keep you where he wants you. The intimidation of the exit is so effective in the first place. The abyss stretches out before you—a yawning, frigid maw beyond the temptingly enchanted light and heat of Azul’s cavern. But your heart beats restlessly. It’s a constant tempo of your need for freedom.

It takes many start-stops; many failed attempts of trying to gain the courage to brave the darkness again. Even more so to move through it. Because the trench just consumes. Life, light, everything. Even though you must not be more than a few feet out—is it only a few feet? It feels like miles. Like a current dragged you down further and you just couldn’t feel it because it’s so damn cold. You’re numb. Okay. Okay, no, calm down. Calm down. There’s not a living thing in these icy depths, nothing beyond what Azul lets into the trench. It’s as if even the most fearsome predators quake at the idea of entering such dangerous, dark waters. It’s. Fine.

Move.

You’ll never get used to swimming through pure ink. It’s directionless. No up, no down—just black. The only sound is the bubble of your breath and the pound of your heart. But the darkness swallows that too. It’s not alive. But it feels like it. A weight, a presence, a monster. Where’s the cavern? Fuck. Fuck, you went out too far, where’s the ledge, you usually use the cavern’s edge to guide yourself up. Fuck…. It’s so cold. Dark, so dark, so cold. Up. Down? Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck—

“My oh my,” a voice sings out in the dark, “Another escape attempt so soon?”

You turn towards it. From the opposite direction, a body crashes into you, sharp teeth sinking pointedly into the back of your neck. It doesn’t hurt. More like. Scruffing a kitten, really. Just with sharper teeth. Instinctively, you fall limp, gasping for breath. Floyd coos as he releases his toothy grip. He rubs his cheek against the back of your neck. He’s warm. Unfortunately warm. Wrapping around you like a living blanket, all velvet skin and soft hair. Floyd can be unfortunately gentle when he wants to be. A content few clicks escape him as he feels you curl into his warmth, nosing closer to him as the chill is burned from your skin. Another shiver—this time, in self-disgust. You hate that this is comforting. You hate that you can breathe easier at the sight of Jade’s golden eye bobbing in the dark. 

“And oh so injured. Dear, you mustn’t push yourself like this…. Not when you’re hurt,” Jade lets out a put-upon sigh. Something’s running over your bandages. Pain blooms. Panic bursts like a firework, brief and bright, until your mind registers that it’s Jade’s fingers skimming over your injured ankle. 

“Fuck you, Jade,” you hiss.

“If you’d like,” he responds with a small smile that barely shows the points of his teeth. They glitter in the glow of his brother’s gaze, like some monstrously illuminated, razor-sharp smirk. You glance away, glaring off into the darkness. He chuckles softly. “Come along. Let’s get you warm.”

He says that like you have a damn choice…. There’s no such thing as personal space with these two. Floyd’s iron grip constricts you to the point that you wheeze out a breath. Jade’s so damn close that you can feel him twining like a protective ribbon around you and his brother. The one benefit you’ll give to this is that it’s warming you up pretty quickly. Though, you do try and flinch away as Jade rubs at your icy fingers. Sure, it gets feeling back into them, but…. 

“Hey. Close your eyes, Toadfishie,” Floyd rubs his cheek against your head, mussing up your hair. You didn’t even realize your eyes were open…. “You’ve been in the dark for a minute. Don’t wanna hurt’cha.”

Begrudgingly, you squeeze them shut… even if it goes against your every instinct. Why would a prey animal want to close their eyes around a predator, after all? A shiver claws its way up your spine as the familiar heat of the cavern spills over you. A relieved breath puffs out of your lips, as you melt against the twins. You can’t… help it. The gentle fussing feels so tender. Fingers skim over your ankles. 

Maybe you’re a little delirious. Maybe you just… need the comfort, need that tense feeling squeezing your heart to just ease. Just a little. But then Floyd licks at the bite mark he left on your neck—and your whole body goes stiff as a board. Struggling, you squirm out of his arms and right into Jade’s. He clucks his tongue, tucking you tightly against him as he cleans the faintly bleeding tooth marks. 

“...Easy now, Pearl,” he murmurs, voice far softer than usual. “...I just don’t want this to get infected.”

“You don’t have to lick me to do that,” you point out, almost bonking your head against his chin. One of his arms cages you against his chest; the other holds your head, gentle but firm. Completely immobilized, all you can do is spit curses and kick your feet a bit. You feel his smirk against your neck. 

“It’s faster,” he chuckles. His thumb swipes gently over your cheek, just barely skimming the corner of your lips. You learned a long while ago not to bite them…. But it is tempting. Not that your useless teeth could have punctured their skin anyway. 

They like pointing things like that out…. Because their ‘courtship’ has a lot less to do with bribery and conditioning, and more with showing off. Look how strong they are, how capable. They like… proving themselves? They catch increasingly deadly meals. Orcas, giant squids, sharks—proving they can provide for their mate and young, they told you once. That they can protect you. It makes you shiver. At least Azul doesn’t admit things like that with a big, toothy grin. The honesty is… almost refreshing. It’s not a song and dance of subtle manipulations and calculated softness. But it’s still—

“Jaaaaaaaaade, Toadfishie spilled their food,” Floyd pouts, poking at the floating pieces of your meal. 

“Have you eaten at all this morning?” Jade murmurs, eyes narrowing. In concern? Frustration? It’s so hard to tell sometimes. Their features are so alien. What you do know is that they all hate it when you don’t eat. Sharply, you inhale as you feel him trying to get you to subtly look him in the eye. You glance at him, glance away. Anywhere but that damn golden eye. “Pearl—” 

“No, I didn’t, okay?” You writhe in his grip, uncomfortably screwing your eyes to the wall. “I-I—” You start, then abort the sentence. They don’t deserve an explanation. Trusting them with your fears, even if they can guess at them, makes your skin crawl. You’re not going to tell them anything more than what they demand to know.

“...What would you like to eat?” Jade murmurs, after a moment. You open your mouth, shut it. They won’t get you surface food. You’ve asked before. They don’t let you have anything that reminds you of the surface…. Except for clothes, but even those are more in the style of merfolk nobles. All clinging clothes that can’t get caught in the current; fancy embellishments over scales or skin. 

“Mmmm,” Floyd’s displeased hum, bordering on a growl, is your only warning before he snatches you out of Jade’s arms. It knocks the wind out of you. Even more so as he starts swimming back to the entrance of the cavern. “Let’s go to the surface.”

His offer startles you, as you jerk your head to him in shock. It must surprise Jade too, because he immediately swims in front of his impulsive twin. “Floyd—”

“Jade, c’mon, they’re not eating. And they had a back-to-back escape attempt! Toadfishie needs to stretch a bit, they’re too cooped up. Bored!” He flails one arm out, the motion moving the water in a slight stream of bubbles. “Lookit their Toadfishie pout!” He squeezes your cheeks, then pushes his face against yours to ‘pout’ with you. 

“...We can’t just take them to the surface without telling Azul.”

“Then let’s get them surface food and bring it back—”

“I really do not think—” 

“He’s gonna be more mad if we can’t get ‘em to eat!”

“Mad is a strong word.”

“It’s fuckin’ accurate though!”

“He would be disappointed.”

“Disappointedly mad.”

“At us, perhaps.”

“...Yeahhhh, I can’t see him gettin’ mad at Toadfishie.”

“I still don’t think—”

“...Please?” Timidly, you glance up at them, then down. The two fall silent. Their golden eyes fall like heavy weights upon your quivering lips. Your tears are nigh invisible in the water, but one of them thumbs at your cheek regardless. The tiniest sniff escapes you, but it falls to small sobs. “I won’t try to run, I-I just— please.”

“...Alright, Pearl,” Jade softens. His forehead bumps against yours, hairlines brushing tenderly. A small hum rises in his chest, vibrates through your body. Almost soothes you. 

“Just please don’t cry, ’fishie,” Floyd murmurs, almost frantically nuzzling at your neck. 

…

…

…

It’s nothing but a hollow comfort.

Okay because I know some of y'all might question the nickname, Floyd calls you Toadfishie because: Reader is “slow” (compared to them anyway); likes to bite; and the sour look they give him reminds him of toadfish. Sounds unflattering but he thinks it’s cute lol.

Thanks for the kind tags and comments guys :D It really encouraged me to write this next piece!

[riiwrites]

bsd characters reacting to you being sick

SUMMARY : oh no! it seems you’ve fallen ill :( but how will your lover ever react?!

GENRE : texts/smau, fluff

A/N : hi my beauties!! its been a while since i last posted an actual piece of work, but im here to provide you with some content including some text content! i hope you all enjoy and i hope im not too rusty when it comes to this as its my first one!! if you want to be added to my text messages taglist please say so under this post, enjoy!

special thanks to @chloiyoomi for introducing me to the app!! go check her out she’s awesome :) 🩷

INCLUDES : atsushi, dazai, chuuya, akutagawa, yosano

masterlist | main page | daily click

✿ riiwrites 2024 ; please please please don’t plagiarise or repost any of my works on any other platforms! especially without crediting!

[leon4nyx]

Where My Affections Lie

CrownPrince!RE4R!Leon x AFAB!Maid!Reader

word count - 2.6k

tags - MDNI, not proofread, slight angst, p in v, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), fingering (f!receiving), soft dom/sub undertones, creampie, missionary, begging, aftercare, generally vanilla sex

the crown prince, Leon, grapples with his princely duty to marry the princess of the neighboring kingdom in order to secure a political alliance with both lands, even if his heart belongs to another− you.

Leon enters your quarters, shutting the door and sliding the lock in place behind him. He looks crestfallen and defeated, his dejected face worrying you. He takes your work-hardened hands in his smooth ones, pressing kisses and nuzzling his face into the warmth of your palm as he looks up at you with tear-glossed eyes. He sets aside the linens you were folding, recently picked from the clothesline first thing in the afternoon. Unlike your princely lover who could indulge in personal interests and other idle hobbies, nearly all your days in serving his family are spent busying yourself with chores and domestic duties; up until he had come inside to seek comfort in your presence, you were occupied with folding newly dried sheets before sending it upwards to their personal housekeepers.

“What’s the matter?” you gently ask him, cupping his teary face nearer to yours.

“The king and queen,” his voice nearly cracks. “My parents, they will marry me off to the princess of the neighbouring kingdom in a month. I am due to meet her at the end of this week and shall be gone for two nights.”

The breath never makes it past your lips, lodging itself in your throat to form an uncomfortable lump that accompanies the sunken feeling in your chest and the tears that begin to blur your vision.

“It is purely for the interest of politics, for the economic well-being of our kingdom,” Leon continues though he sounds far from pleased. “Father has cut ties with the trade of our previous ally, much to my contempt. No matter what I say and how much I beg, nothing will change their minds. A ship is on its way to deliver the message now.”

The king’s speak is the law and you know that there is no denying his wishes unless you wish to lose your head. If Leon, the crown prince, couldn’t get him to retract his statement, what more can a lowly maid do? You set aside the ache of your own heart, putting Leon’s emotions first in this gutting moment in both your lives.

“Leon, it’s all going to be fine. I’m sure she is rich and beautiful,” you point out with a feigned smile.

“That is nothing if I cannot have you,” he responds. “I care not for material riches when you are far more wealthy in the love you spoil me with. She is not you so I could care less about her. She will never be you.”

“The kingdom needs you, Leon. We are all relying on you for our prosperity,” you quietly say. “It’s best you follow the king, this is for the good of your people.”

Leon shakes his head, his blond fringe swaying along with the motion. He dips his head, eyes downcast to his bare ring finger.

“I don’t wish to stop loving you, my dove.” He confesses in a voice so broken.

“But you’ll hurt her,” you retort. “She is your wife, my future queen, and I am but an ignoble servant. She will bear your children so you must love her, as fiercely or more than you have loved me.”

He shakes and cries into the crook of your neck, saline tears leaving dark circles on the fabric of your garments as his arms hold you close to himself.

“It’ll be fine, Leon. I forgive you and I always will,” you whisper as you pat the soft hair at the back of his head. “It must be done.”

You had more words to say but it dies down at the base of your throat, the lump growing more uncomfortable as tears of your own descend as you both share your griefs in the tragedy of your circumstances.

After a delicate silence spent tearfully, Leon pulls back and stares into your eyes with fervour as if he is committing every blemish and groove of your face to memory.

“Fuck it,” he whipsers beneath his breath.

Light and careful hands cup your cheeks as if your face is made of glass, drawing your face near until your lips connect. The kiss is gentle and careful at first, no more than the tender smacking of lips and stifled noises accompanied by low smacks but the passion and desperation grows tenfold; his hands find themselves groping and grabbing, warm tongues coming to meet in the middle to engage in a passionate tango amidst hot puffs of breaths. Leon breaks away and plants damp kisses on the side of your lips, trailing it down your neck and making its way into your collarbones. His fingers fumble around behind you, fervidly undoing the laces of your clothing.

“Take these off,” he damn near growls. “Rip it, just rip it.”

You reach behind you to try and undo it swiftly but your lover has gone impatient, the sound of fabric ripping reaching your ears as your back is exposed to the air as he shoves the remainder of the torn clothing down, exposing your breasts.

“Leon!” You yelp in surprise.

“Need you,” he breathes in between clumsy pecks to your lips. “Need you now.”

He backs you into your bed, gently setting you down before climbing on top of your pinning you down with his enveloping weight. His kisses are bold and sloppy, desperate for more of you as teeth clack and grunts increase in volume. Your hands untangle themselves from his locks, gliding down the ripples of his muscled back and down to his trousers as you try to shove it down. Taking your hint, he rises up for a moment and undoes the button before shucking it down along with his underwear. His cock springs out, slapping into his abdomen right underneath his navel; his tip is flushed and glossy, covered in a thin layer of his arousal. Veins deliciously adorn the shaft like vines, the sight before you making you all the more hot and bothered. You sit up as Leon lies down, back resting against the headboard as you bend to eye-level with his erection.

“Please,” he begs. “Just…– ah, fuck.”

You interrupt his begging in the most heavenly way possible with your lips wrapped around his tip, gently giving cautious sucks before you take more of him into your mouth and start bobbing your head up and down. Spit dribbles from the corner of your mouth and glides down his girth, making Leon painfully harder if it was even possible.

“F-Faster,” he chokes out as his hips twitch. “Faster… yeah, jus’ like that.”

You pull away for a moment to catch your breath, a thin string of spit connecting you to his cock. You wrap your warm hands around him and form a tunnel, gliding it up and down his length at a pleasurable pace while you look at him through lidded eyes.

“F-Fuck,” he whimpers as his back bows from time to time. “Ah, ple–please, please. F-Fuck, faster!”

Shlicks resonate through the room, growing in speed as you pick up the pace with your hands. His face tightens and his balls flex, signaling that he’s right over the edge when you pull your hand away for a moment before replacing it with the wetness of your mouth again.

“Faster, faster–ngh–faster!” He chants in a whiny tone as his hands cup the back of your head as he urges you on. “Mine, y-you’re… hngh… mine! A-And I’m yours– all yours, p-please!”

He shoves your head down a little rougher, catching you off-guard as warm spurts of his cum shoots deep inside your mouth. Throaty whines and moans accompany his bliss, throat exposed as his head is thrown back in a white-hot ecstasy. He releases his hands from your head, letting you pull away as you take a breath. He’s still hard, angry cock pointing to the sky as it kicks in desire for more of you.

“Get on your back for me,” he pants in a low register. Sitting up, he crawls over you to lay down. “Let me return the favor, like a good lover does.”

You lift your hips up for him as he unbuttons your lower garments and slides it off of your legs before haphazardly tossing it to the floor as he focuses on his desire right between your legs. The sunlight filtering in through the window illuminates your soaked pussy, bathing it in a tantalizing glow.

“She’s crying for me and I haven’t even touched her yet,” he thickly chuckles to himself as he parts your soaked folds with his thumb, earning a weak mewl from you.

“Touch me, Leon. “ You admit in a hushed tone. “Please.”

“I’m going to need you to be a little louder for me, my queen,” he breathes against your inner thigh as he noses your sensitive clit.

“Leon,” you drawl. “Please! Please, just touch me.” Your cheeks burn with embarrassment at hearing yourself beg but you’re given no chance to bask in it before he dives in and plunges his tongue. “Leon!”

He positions your legs to rest against his shoulders, his arm encircled over your hips to gently rub soothing circles against your skin as he laps and licks like a mad hound. He looks up at you, the throb in his weeping cock aching even more powerful as your cries of his name reverbs throughout the room with no regard for who could hear.

“Good girl,” he purred as he plunged his right index into your eager hole and used his left thumb to stroke your pudgy clit. “Good fucking girl.”

“H-Harder,” you breathed as your velvety walls clamped around his finger. “L-Leon…”

“Gotta give my girl what she wants,” your lover breathes as he withdraws his finger to add another one and plunge it inside again. “You hear yourself, love? How she’s so needy for my cock?”

“Fuck!” You curse, writhing due to the overwhelming pleasure that runs through your body. “Ah! T-there, Leon– there, don’t s-stop!”

Your moans increase in volume and pitch, growing more feral and raw with the need to chase after that high as he relentlessly rubs that gummy spot you love.

“That’s it,” you hear him say. “Don’t be quiet, have to let everyone know who I love. Let the princess know, yeah?”

You feel empty again, only for his mouth to engulf your wet sex. Your mouth parted to make way for a primal groan, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel that knot in your abdomen tense up for an incoming release.

“Louder baby,” Leon says with a smug smirk. “Let them know how good I treat you– ugh!”

He groans as his eyes shut as you tug on his face forcefully, shoving your pussy into his face as your body shakes with the shockwave of pleasure that crashed over you.

“Leon!” you breathe as you keep his head in place between your legs. “Leon!”

You chant his name over and over again like a prayer, screaming in pleasure as you feel his tongue kitten lick your clit. Your body relaxes, your fingers releasing its vice grip on his hair as your legs fall apart and free his head.

“Are you still with me?” Leon asks as he presses gentle kisses to your cheeks.

“Yes,” you pant as you direct his lips to yours. You hum with the taste of your slick, still not satisfied with being devoured alive alone. “Wan’ more, dove.”

“Good,” he darkly chuckles. “You want me now?”

You nod feverishly, coating his erection in your slick and his spit as you grind despite your overstimulation.

“Fuck,” he hisses as he lines himself up. “Tell me you want me, please, love. Tell me you want me so bad.”

Your hands gently push his hips down to yourself, easing his hot cockhead into you. “I… want you so bad, Leon. So fucking bad.”

“T-That’s it,” he encourages you as he pushes himself in slowly. Despite having made love with him more than twice, his cock still stretched you out like you’ve never taken him before. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

He stills to let you adjust to being stuffed to the brim, occasionally huffing grunts when he feels your walls pulse and constrict around his sensitive cock. Once you give him the go-ahead to move, he moves his head to watch your face scrunch in pleasure as he begins to rock his cock in and out of your soaked pussy.

“I love your whines,” he chuckles. “Fuck, what a slut for me– only me. You’re mine,” he rasped.

“Yours!” You choke out as you drag your nails down his back, certain that it will leave red streaks that would certainly sting later on. “Yours, L-Leon!”

The grind of his recently-trimmed pelvis provided a delicious friction as he drove himself deeper into you, the bed creaking with each thrust.

“L-Love… you!” Leon keened, punctuating his words with harsh slaps. “So fucking much!”

Leon is temporarily taken aback by your hands moving to both sides of his sweat-soaked cheeks as you drew it nearer to yourself and captured his lips in a hungry exchange of passionate-fueled smacks as he delivered more thrusts of growing intensity. He felt his heart drop at the fact that he will need to consummate his marriage with the princess he will soon marry, a dark cloud coming back to trouble his mind, but the feeling of your teeth and tongue on his neck brought him back to the present so he pushed those negative feelings away for now, focusing on how snug your pussy envelopes his cock and how pretty the marks you’ve left on his neck and collar bones are. He does the same, moving your face to the side to paint your neck in reds, purples, and light indents of his teeth on the flesh.

“I’m g-going to cum,” Leon whines against your ear. “F-Fuck! This sweet pussy’s m-made just f’me.”

“Leon!” You exclaim as you cling onto him even more as if he’d be ripped away. “L-Leon, I-I’m going t’cum!”

He knocks the breath away from your lungs, back arched and chest pressed against him as your finger nails embed crescents into his shoulder blades. You weakly gush some more of your juices around his length, velvety pussy rippling around his cock.

With a throaty whine of your name, he holds you close against him as he delivers the last thrust before he shoots his warm spend inside you. He only puts a halt to his shallow thrusts when you tell him to stop as the pleasure is now bordering on discomfort. Ever the caring boyfriend he is, even in times of steaming passion, he looks after your wellbeing. He pushes hair away from your eyes, gently rubbing your cheeks as he adoringly whispers your name while he tends to you first.

“Does anything hurt?” He asks. “Did I cause you any pain?”

You laugh, tucking a long strand of sweat-dampened hair behind his ears. “No, my love. You made me feel happy today, like you always have. Stay with me for a little longer, Leon. I wish to rest with you,” you softly ask of him as you lift your covers to your chest.

“What about cleaning yourself up?” He asks.

“That can wait. I need you now,” you respond. “I meant it when I screamed that I needed you, Leon. I said it with my heart.”

His heart pinches in his chest, unfortunately brought back to the grim reality of his situation but that can wait so for now, he lifts the covers over both your bodies and stretches his arm to let you rest on it, stroking your hair until you fall asleep with no plans to leave despite what awaits him.

NOTE - hi guys!! i decided to try my hand at writing smut so if this isn't the best smut you've ever read, i'd like to apologize because this is my first time!! though it was certainly full of me giggling mid-writing coz i found my situation lowkey funny, i actually had fun but i don't think i'll be writing lots of smut :) i decided to post this to check out the flexibility of my writing skills so this is pretty experimental. i won't be super active in here because my main is @leonw4nter :) i also decided to start a ko-fi [still fixing some things up] in case anyone wants to drop a tip but please, please, please do not think that i'm forcing you to give me some money-- it's just there as a grander form of showing appreciation but likes and reblogs get me going already :) anyway, that's it and thank you for reading this <3 let me know what you guys think in the comments, i'd love to hear your thoughts <3

[electricscreaming]

Project Moon OC Ask Game

a total of 60 questions: 15 general questions, 15 project moon verse centered, 15 centered on nuggets from lobotomy corporation & library of ruina, and 15 centered on sinner ocs. many of them were sourced and adapted from the limbus oc server!

General

🏠 — What is the place they call home?

🌅 — What are they most proud of?

🌃 — What do they wish they could forget about?

🩸 — Do they have any scars? What do they think of them?

🖋️ — Are there any recurring motifs in their story?

🙏 — If they were a deity, what would be their domain?

👻 — What situations do they most fear happening? How realistic are these fears?

🕸️ — Do they have any triggers or phobias? Which ones?

💀 — What secrets are they trying to hide? How successful are they in this?

🚪 — Is there something they don't wish to admit to themselves? What is it?

🔭 — What job did they dream about having as a kid? Did they reach that goal? Why or why not?

🪀 — What were they like as a kid?

🧷 — What type of clothes do they prefer the most? Do they wear it often?

🍲 — What would they bring to a potluck?

📚 — Are they inspired by any preexisting works?

General Project Moon

💾 — What faction are they affiliated with? If not pre-existing, what's its specialization?

👾 — Do they love the city they live in?

🏚️ — Do they prefer the Nests or the Backstreets?

🗺️ — If they could choose, in what District would they live?

💭 —If they could change only one thing about the City, what would it be?

🗄️ — What Association(s) would they (or do they) affiliate with? What about Fingers?

🤖 — If they have no prosthetics, what kind of prosthetics would they get? If they do have prosthetics, what are their thoughts about them?

🍎 — What would their Distortion look like?

🌈 — What would be their title if they were a Color Fixer?

⚖️ — Do they believe in the "that is that, and this is this" way of thinking? What led them to believe it or not?

🌧️ — What would their worst possible end be like?

☀️ — What would their happiest end be like?

🚨 — What Abnormalities would they most resonate with? Whether they relate to them, share themes, or simply match each other!

🏔️ — Do they have any particular thoughts about the Outskirts?

🧳 — Do they have any items that would persist with them in every universe?

Lobotomy Corporation & Library of Ruina

🚏 — What was their life like before getting hired? How did they get into the Corporation?

👔 — What floor do they work in? Did they work on any others before?

🔮 — What role(s) did they play at their facility?

📀 — What is their relationship with their Sephirot/Patron Librarian like?

📈 — What's their relationship with the rest of their team like?

🐦‍⬛ — What do they think of Angela? Do they know her personally?

📋 — Would they attend Hod's consultations? What would they talk about?

🪢— What type of Work they do best in; what do they specialize in when fighting?

✍️ — For Librarians, what do they think about turning people into books?

🎭 — Do they have any EGO gifts or battle symbols? Which ones?

🪶 — What Abnormality(ies) did they work the most with? Do they have a favorite? What about least favorite?

🧬 — What would their reaction be to discovering how Abnormalities are made?

💥 — What are they like when panicking?

🌱 — What was, or would be their reaction to the execution of the Seed of Light?

⏳ — If they could go back in time with this knowledge, would they still join the corporation?

Sinner OCs

💼 — Why did they accept to join the company, or seek it out in the first place?

🪞 — What are their opinions on their Identities and Mirror technology in general?

✏️ — How do they write their observation logs? Do they have any notable quirks in their writing?

⛓️ — How does their base EGO manifest? What does the room in it look like?

⚔️ — What's their weapon's name? Why did you choose it?

🛡️ — What's their base EGO's name? Why did you choose it?

🎨 — Do they have a signature color? What's its name and why was it picked?

📱 — Do they have a signature emoji? Which one, and why was it picked?

🌀 — Do they have a logo? What's it like and what does it mean?

⚓ — What would be their season EGO?

💪 — What kind of role their IDs end up having most often? (Tanking, debuffing...)

🌐 — What aspects of their story are consistent across every Mirror World?

🩹 — After their Canto, are they doing better or worse?

🚌 — Are they in the Bus branch or in another one? What are their thoughts on it, and do they wish they worked elsewhere?

👥 — Who are their most and least favorites out of the canon Sinners?

[forest-hashira]

'Til Death Do Us Part

hi everyone! this is my (first) entry for @kentopedia's "Love Through the Ages" collab/event! this is a retelling of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, but with Gojo/Reader. if you want to know the full vibes for this, i listened to Moon Song and I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers on repeat while writing this.

read on ao3 here | wc: ~3.3k | cw: gn reader, satoru is a musician, major character death (reader), hurt no comfort, unhappy ending

Falling in love with you was easy. In fact, it was probably the easiest thing Satoru had ever done in his life; even easier than picking up the lyre as soon as he was strong enough to hold it; even easier than the singing lessons he’d outgrown the need for when he was still just a young boy; easier than charming every young woman he ever came across, leaving a long string of broken hearts in his wake.

But not you.

With you, he’d taken his time, had actually gotten to know you until it felt like he’d known you all his life; he knew your favorite season, what times you liked to take walks in the fields outside of town, even your favorite place to watch the sunset. He also knew that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Falling in love with you was easy, and even after you’d fallen in love with him, too, asking you to marry him felt terrifying. But you said yes, and all that terror had melted into elation. 

There was hardly any time at all between your engagement and your wedding, both of you eager to belong to each other forever, so in love it was almost painful. Though the wedding itself was small – and barely a month after Satoru proposed – it was the most joyful day in both of your lives. Being surrounded by the laughter of your loved ones, everyone dancing and enjoying good food and dancing had made you feel lighter than air, even long after the sun had set; for once, you weren’t even sad that you had missed watching it from your favorite spot.

Falling in love with you was easy. Loving you was easier. Losing you was the most painful thing Satoru had ever experienced.

It was only days after your wedding, after you had promised to be at one another’s side until the end, in the very field where you’d first told him you loved him, where you’d shared your first kiss. 

You had cried out from a sharp pain in your ankle, and when both of you looked to see what it was, you watched a large snake disappear into the flowers. In a panic, Satoru had ripped the fabric of his tunic, wrapping it tightly around the wound, silently, desperately praying that the poison would move slow enough for him to get you back to the town, where he could only hope someone would know how to cure snake bites. He couldn’t lose you, not like this, not so soon after he’d made you his.

When he’d gone to carry you – to pick you up and rush back to town with you in his arms – he had seen your skin was already an unnaturally pale, ashen color, a sheen of sweat over your whole body.

“No,” he’d whispered, shaking his head, as if that would magically give him more time to save you. “No, no no no.”

You’d only smiled at him, though your eyes were already starting to go a little unfocused. “It’s too late, my love.” Your hands had tangled in the front of his tunic, the soft blue fabric crumpling so easily between your fingers. “But this isn’t such a bad place to die, is it? I’m with you, and the flowers are blooming, and the sun is shining.” With every word, you’d had to lean more and more of your weight into him, your legs losing strength by the second.

“Let’s just sit together for a moment, my love, and enjoy the breeze. I don’t want to be scared when I go.”

The words had nearly shattered Satoru, but he had nodded, easing both of you down to lay amongst the flowers, cradling you close to himself the whole time. He’d stared down at you without blinking, unwilling to miss a single heartbeat of the time he had left with you; the fact that you had looked up at him, too, was both a blessing and a curse.

“Don’t go,” he’d pleaded, throat tight with the tears he was fighting back. “I don’t want you to go. I love you.”

“I know,” you’d whispered back. “I don’t want to go, either. I love you, Satoru, and I wish we had more time, but we don’t.”

“It’s not fair.”

“No,” you’d agreed, a bittersweet smile on your lips. “It’s not fair. But neither is life. And I’m happy to have spent as much of mine with you as I got to.”

Words had failed him then, and he’d leaned down to press one last kiss to your lips, knowing deep down that this would be his last chance. And he had been right; you’d managed to return his kiss for a moment, before going completely still in his arms.

Satoru had stayed in that field with you and wept for hours after the warmth left your body, only forcing himself to stand and take both of you back to town when it began to grow dark and a chill drifted in on the breeze you had been so eager to feel in your last moments.

And so, he had carried you home, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying, but his face otherwise blank, too numb to feel even grief at that moment. No one that saw him had tried to stop him, the sight of the typically lively musician so hollow, so quiet, had left everyone shaken.

The days after your death all blurred together; the only one that stuck out significantly from the others was the day of your funeral, because it was the only time he’d cleaned himself up and left the house, and even that was because Satoru knew he was expected to be there, the grieving husband to round out the picture of a Perfect Funeral. It had made him sick, and he’d excused himself as quickly as possible. 

He spent much of his time crying, or staring at the wall, or ceiling, replaying that last afternoon with you, obsessing over how he could have done things differently, how he could have saved you, even if he knew logically it was pointless; what was done could not be undone, especially not death. 

…Could it?

Once Satoru had the thought, he could not bring himself to abandon it, so he began instead to meticulously detail his plan. 

The days were already growing colder, which meant that Lady Persephone had returned to her husband’s realm of the Underworld; perhaps he would be able to use that to his advantage. 

Satoru had a purpose again, something to get him out of bed and moving; he had a goal to achieve, and no earthly force would stop him. He spent days polishing and tuning his instruments, and days longer composing and perfecting a song to play for the King and Queen of the Underworld; if he was going to convince the keepers of the dead to release one of their charges, everything needed to be perfect.

He was vaguely aware that a couple people – Suguru and Shoko, perhaps? Anything outside of his task was fuzzy at best – came to check on him occasionally, just as they had before he had manically begun to prepare to do the impossible. If they tried to talk him out of it, he can’t remember; even if they had tried, it wouldn’t have worked. His sole focus was on getting you back, and nothing would stand in his way.

By the time Satoru felt he had done everything he could to prepare for his journey, almost two weeks had passed since you’d died in his arms.

Your husband dressed warmly, both because he was unsure what to expect in the Underworld and because having your scarf wrapped around his neck gave him confidence that his plan would work; how could it not, when wearing the scarf wreathed him in your scent, as if you were already back with him again?

The sun was barely up when Satoru left your home, his lyre wrapped carefully in muslin and tucked into his bag. He knew the entrance to the Underworld was close enough to walk, but he didn’t know how long it would take him to get there, and he didn’t want to waste any time at all. Though he had left so early in the morning, there were still a few townspeople that saw him, asked him where he was going, but he ignored them all; conversation would only delay his journey, and he wouldn’t have that.

The musician made good time, all things considered, reaching the entrance to the Underworld about an hour past midday. He paused for a moment, took a deep breath to steel himself, then stepped forwards into the darkness.

He had no torch to light his way, but the path beneath his feet seemed to glow on its own, as if guiding him along; as if the Lord and Lady were expecting and didn’t want to be kept waiting because the foolish mortal lost his way. So, seeing no other option, he followed the soft, almost foggy glow as it led him deeper and deeper into the earth and – hopefully – to the throne room of Hades and Persephone. 

Time didn’t quite feel the same below the surface – it felt thicker, somehow, and heavier, catching on his clothes and sticking to his skin like honey – which meant he had no idea how long he’d been walking. The only thing that kept him from panicking was the faintest scent of pomegranates, coming from the same direction the path seemed to lead.

Eventually, Satoru did reach the throne room, though he couldn’t have recalled what it looked like later if his life depended on it. For as much as he looked around, the whole room could have been made of diamonds and liquid gold could have rained from the ceiling; none of that mattered to him, because it had nothing to do with you. His gaze went straight to the couple in their thrones, and he fought to keep his nerves under control; now was not the moment to get stage fright for the first time in his life. 

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing so low he felt the way his hair shifted to cooperate with gravity, the dusty purple of his undercut no longer hidden beneath the pale strands of his frosty hair, so white it practically glowed in the dusk of the throne room. 

“What brings you to my realm, mortal?” Hades asked, his expression impassive, though his eyes simmered with something dangerous. 

“I have come to play you a song,” Satoru answered simply, standing from his bow and removing his lyre from his bag, unwrapping the fabric from around it with great care. He adjusted his hold on the instrument until it sat nestled in his arms in the best position for him to play, then lifted his gaze back to the gods. “If it pleases my Lord and her Ladyship, of course.”

This was the one catch in his plan: if he was denied permission to play, he had no chance of returning home with you at his side.

“Oh, please?” Persephone turned to face her husband, a pleading expression on her face. “Let him play, my love. We never have mortal visitors, much less artists, and I want to hear what he’s prepared for us!”

The King of the Dead hesitated for a few moments, staring at his wife, but Satoru caught the way his smoldering eyes softened, the way the hard lines of his mouth eased, and the musician knew he would be allowed to play.

“My wife wishes to hear you play,” the god said, turning back to the man before him. “I hope you don’t disappoint her with your skills.”

With another, smaller bow, Satoru began to play, and soon thereafter began to sing. He sang about you: all the ways you loved him, and all the ways he loved you in return. He sang of his life before he met you: how he had played around, led people along and broken their hearts with his carelessness, simply because he was bored. He sang of your lives after you’d met: how you had brightened his mornings and sweetened his days and warmed his nights; how you had planned a future together you had never gotten to see. The harmonies from his lyre blended with the melodies of his voice, painting the image of you so vividly Satoru swore he could see your shape in front of him again.

It wasn’t until he finished his song that he realized he could see you there in front of him, though your form wavered around the edges, like you were a little less than solid. But you were there, and you were smiling, and he felt like falling to his knees and crawling to you right then and there; the only thing that stopped him was realizing that both Hades and Persephone were openly weeping.

He, Gojo Satoru, had brought gods to tears with his music, and with his love for you.

Emboldened by seeing your face again, Satoru spoke. “Please,” he begged, his voice eggshell-thin, cracking under the stress of his request. “Please don’t make me return home without my love. I cannot bear to make the journey alone again.”

At first he received only silence in response, and though he was not a patient man by nature, he forced himself to wait until he was spoken to, not wanting to risk upsetting the gods before him.

“Once a soul has entered the Underworld, it cannot be allowed to leave again,” Hades responded once he had composed himself, which felt like years after Satoru had made his plea. “I am very sorry.”

The musician felt his heart sink at the denial, and he began to consider begging to be allowed to stay, instead, if he couldn’t bring you back with him.

“Oh, please, my love,” Persephone cried, messily wiping the tears from her eyes as she gazed at her husband. “You let me go home again when my mother begged for my return. Why can’t you grant him this same mercy?”

“Because order must be maintained,” the Lord of the Underworld answered. “Rules must be followed, you know this. Your own return home has its own rules, after all.”

“Then give me rules I must abide by. I swear I will follow them as faithfully as possible.” Though he knew interrupting a conversation between gods could be dangerous, Satoru simply could not stop the words from tumbling from his lips.

“Please.” The goddess’s voice was petal-soft, a warm, hopefully breeze cutting through the chill of the Underworld. 

The silence was heavy, crushing the air out of every part of the room, suffocating the musician where he stood. Despite the pain, Satoru only had eyes for you, your warm gaze giving him the strength to push through, to wait for Hades’s answer before completely giving up hope.

“If I let you both return to the surface world,” the god’s voice, though low and rough, rang out clear. “You must follow one rule.”

“Only one?” It seemed too good to be true.

“It is a difficult one.”

“Anything,” Satoru rushed out. “I’ll do anything.”

“You will lead the two of you out of the Underworld, but until you both are on the surface again, out of my domain, you are not to turn around. I promise you will not be alone, that you will return with your love, but you must not turn around before you leave this place. If you turn around, you will have to leave here alone, and you will never be allowed to return until your own death.”

“If I’m not allowed to turn around, are we at least allowed to speak to each other?”

“Yes, you can converse on the journey. Now, take your lover and go. Once you leave the throne room you must keep your back turned at all times until you reach the surface.”

Bowing deeply, Satoru thanked the god profusely for several moments, then straightened and stepped forward, reaching out and taking your hands, helping you from where you sat on the floor of the throne room.

“Let’s go home,” you said, smiling so sweetly at him it made his teeth ache. He nodded eagerly in agreement, taking just a moment longer to take in your features before guiding you to the entrance of the throne room.

“Are you ready?” he asks, turning to you one last time as the two of you stand in the threshold. “I’m not sure how long the journey back is, and if you grow tired we can’t stop.”

“I’m ready when you are,” was your answer, giving his hand a light squeeze to show you meant the words. 

Satoru nodded back, once again pausing to admire your face, your smile, everything about you, before turning away, still holding your hand as he stepped out of the throne room and began the trek back to the surface, back home.

He was silent for a bit at first, feeling your hand in his enough to assure him you were there, but eventually both his nerves and his natural chattiness got the better of him. He said almost every thought that came to his mind, though he tried to make sure to ask as many questions as possible, eager to hear your answers, your sweet voice a soothing balm to his raw and frayed nerves. 

The journey felt shorter this time around, though whether that was because he was retracing his footsteps, or some other strange property of time in the Underworld, Satoru couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t going to complain about it, either, because not turning to look at you was proving much more difficult than he had thought when he was first given the rule.

When he finally saw the entrance to the surface, sunlight still visible on the horizon, a beaming grin broke out across his face. “We’re nearly there,” he told you. “See? We’ve nearly made it.” Unable to help himself, he picked up his pace, still pulling you along behind him. 

He didn’t notice your hand slipping from his own as he closed the last few paces to the entrance.

His joy was palpable as he practically leapt through the gates, back onto the surface, into the grass that waited for him as the sun began to set behind him.

“We did it!” Satoru cheered, spinning around to look at you. “Oh, my love, it feels so good to have you—” The sight of your sad smile had his gaze dropping to your feet.

You hadn’t yet crossed over the threshold.

And he had turned around and looked at you.

“No,” he begged, racing towards you, desperate for at least one last kiss, one last embrace, even if he could not keep you with him. “Please, my love, I’m so sorry.”

Before he could reach out and touch you, though, your shape had already begun to waver, rippling like the surface of a pool disturbed by the wind. You only shook your head, your smile never leaving your lips. “It’s okay,” you assured him. “I love you. I’ll see you again someday. Live well for me, okay?”

“I-I’ll try,” he choked out, tears thick in his voice even before they spilled from his eyes, though there was no stopping them as your form wavered more, then faded fully from sight.

He fell to his knees and wept, loud, heaving sobs, gripping handfuls of grass as he pressed his forehead to the ground, forced to mourn you a second time.

ok so this was baby's first sad ending/hurt no comfort so pls don't come for me if it was bad i'm so sorry idk how to do this i don't like sad endings but this is my favorite myth i couldn't bring myself to change the ending

tagging: @kentopedia @kentohours @mitsuristoleme

[roseberryrabbit]

Memento Mori | Memento Vivere.

"𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮𝐬."

❝​🇨​​🇦​​🇳​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​ ​🇫​​🇪​​🇪​​🇱​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇬​​🇭​​🇹​ ​🇮​​🇳​​🇸​​🇮​​🇩​​🇪​? / ​🇨​​🇦​​🇳​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​ ​🇫​​🇪​​🇪​​🇱​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇫​​🇮​​🇷​​🇪​?❝

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ʙʏ: @cafekitsune made this light study into something to commemorate the 4th year deathiversary of Unus Annus [REDACTED]

i remember watching the stream to the very last second and omg the amount of tears i shed was plentiful lol i think i did pretty okay as a first time for studying something like this, especially in monochrome colors! (side note: why did listening to the chromakopia albuma ESPECIALLY st. chroma help sm what.)

heres what i used for reference for the drawing and help with light studies if anyone else would also like to do so!!

PHOTO ABOVE IS NOT MINE if anyone knows who the original creator/poster of the photo above belongs to, please let me know so i can properly credit them! thank you!! <3

something silly <3 (literally i love how serious a lot of fanart for them can be but then this is just actually them in a nutshell in their vids)

[storiesandstars]

Year of the OTP April Prompt: (Seemingly) Unrequited Love

Read on AO3 | Feat: Mina and Malakai

Malakai's POV:

Kai stared unblinkingly at his younger brother Alexei "Ace" Volkov before turning his disbelieving glare in his business partner's direction. Nate McMahon had never been able to mask his emotions and it seemed he wasn't looking to start today. The bastard immediately turned around, shoulders shaking, as huffs of laughter escaped.

"She hasn't liked me like that since high school you oblivious idiot. How are you running a security company when you can't even see this? She's in love with you. Nate, you asshole, quit giggling and explain this to my brother. He won't listen to me, but he'll listen to you."

Ace's grey eyes, a shade or two lighter than Kai's own eyes, were sparking bright with his vehemence. He truly believed that Minako was in love with Kai. Truly believed it. He only got this angry when Kai didn't take him seriously. But Kai knew better than to hope…or did he?

"Anyway, look," Ace huffed, waving a hand dismissively in Kai's direction. "I'm here because the Three Lights are going to need security teams for the next leg of their tour on this continent. You two need to get the particulars sorted out for that. Kakyuu's going to sign the contract and send it to me tomorrow."

Nate spun around at hearing the news about the Three Lights.

"Loop me in on that conversation. I've got a few questions I want to make sure we have clear answers for this go round. I didn't like that we had that one close call thanks to the choices of their team."

"Roger that," Ace saluted. "Anyway, I've got dinner with the man that Mina set me up with tonight. She thinks he might be a keeper. We can only hope."

Kai grunted in response.

"Hnn. As long as he's better to you than that woman you were with before. You wanna give me a name?"

Ace pursed his lips and shook his head, his eyes softening as he looked at his older brother.

"I can be trusted to find my own happiness big brother. I'll let you know if I need help. But if you really wanted to know, you could ask Mina directly."

Kai's eyes narrowed. Nate came over to clap Ace on the back and steer him out of Kai's office.

"Well, have a good night and have fun Ace-y. Let him court you before that first kiss but if you must put out, don't forget to wrap it up," he sing-songed ignoring Ace's embarrassed squawks as he saw him out of the office.

He spun around and smiled that infamous cheshire cat grin and Kai very nearly gulped. Very nearly.

"You about done here for today? Let's go get some dinner. The boys are heading to the pub now," Nate explained, rubbing his hands with glee. "As my wife and the love of your life always say, talk to me girlie."

Minako's POV:

Mina stared down resignedly at the man she was very much in love with. The man who was currently drunk out of his mind and passed out on her couch. This after having politely taken off his shoes by the door, hanging his suit jacket in her closet and neatly folding his suit pants and shirt to gently place them on her coffee table. Mina bit her lip wondering at how many boxes this ticked towards being able to label him a psychopath, but perhaps that was a question better left for daylight.

She weighed whether it would be better to call one of his boys to get him home so he could wake up comfortably and without embarrassment. But then she paused, narrowing her eyes, wondering just why she should need to bend over backwards to save his face.

She should let him wake up uncomfortable and embarrassed. Let him explain why he was knocking on her door calling her wife and telling her he'd come home to stay. She grinned to herself thinking of the morning, placing a bottle of water and some aspirin within reach.

Mina quickly grabbed an extra comforter from her linen closet and laid it over him, making sure his entire (large) body was covered before heading to bed herself. Once in bed and safely out of earshot, she wished him sweet dreams, kicking her feet a little at the thrill of having him under her roof for the night.

In her living room, unbeknownst to Mina, Kai smiled softly in his sleep.

Friends, friends, guess what? What if I, a madwoman, finish this challenge before the end of 2024?? [Cue Selena's "Dreaming of You]

[nanamiscocksleeve]

🎁DM/inbox to join! Collab deets can be found here!

🎁Status: CLOSED. Fics being written.

🎁Deadlines: November 25th to join, December 25th to submit

🎄Fic Requests (matched and closed!):

Love and Deepspace

1. @hesperisms Christmas themed, soft Sylus smut 2. @who-mentioned-rhys-larsen - secret santa: @nanamiscocksleeve - Fic: It's The Thought That Counts - Summary: When you receive an unexpected present from Xavier, you realize his intentions are anything but holy. 3. @laddelulu30 -secret santa: @reilemon -Fic: Surrender -Summary: Sylus and Zayne show you that you can't get away with lying. 4. @missaengg -secrent santa: @who-mentioned-rhys-larsen -Fic: A White Christmas -Summary: Rafayel hopes you'll say yes when he asks you an important question on Christmas morning. 5. @reilemon Zayne. Fluff, crack, suggestive themes. Reader gets a little too drunk and makes a fool of themselves in a bar requring Zayne to haul them out of there. Struggles back to the apartment, helps reader change then removes their makeup, does their skincare routine, etc. Morning after, reader is hungover but Zayne has prepaed breakfast. Can be Christmas themed. 6. @nanamiscocksleeve - secret santa: @missaengg - Fic: A Magical First Christmas - Summary: Zayne arranges for a sweet and intimate Christmas getaway just for you.

Jujutsu Kaisen

1. @sassypossum Romantic and a little fluff for Hiromi, some gentle smut 2. @mysteria157 Nanami holiday fluff, optional smut (must be intimate and loving if included) 3. @heian-era-housewife fluffy or funny True Form Sukuna. Smut optional. Bonus points for holiday themed. 4. @lazyjellyfish300 Shiu Kong and Christmas dinner that turns fluffy and romantic or soft steamy smut, or both! whichever direction the writer wants to take.

all dividers by @/ cafe kitsune

[haruu-luv]

𝙱𝚂𝙳 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

(aus mixed)

dividers by cafe kitsune

𝙰𝙳𝙰 (@asktheada)

Yukichi Fukuzawa: @thedickpeoplewagewarsfor @fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency

Ranpo Edogawa: @askranpo @fem-ranpo @ultradeduction @protectingidiots @ramuneranpo

Osamu Dazai: @never-gets-sick @doublesuicidelover @theonlyrealdazaiosamus-blog @catzai-osameow @royalbandages @the-biggest-odasaku-man-fan @suicidol-dz @corrupted-bandages @dazai-asks @femzaimybeloved @bandagesandblood @drowninginbeauty @disgracedprodigy @thesourceofsin @sweet-belladonna @osamudazaiisawoman @diamondzai @swimminginyokohamasrivers @kitsune-dazai @suizai

Atsushi Nakajima: @moonovermountain @beast-beneath-the-moon @weretigeratsu @panthera-tigristigris @chazukemylove @chazukelover5105 @atsushima

Akiko Yosano: @thou-shaltnot-die @dreaming-of-butterflies

Tanizaki Junichiro: @junichiros-light-snow @tanizakisiblings

Doppo Kunikida: @thematchlesspoet @manofhisideals @notamathematician

Kenji Miyazawa: @cows12345 @be-not-defeated-by-the-rain @undefeated-by-the-storm

Izumi Kyouka: @kyoukacat @flower-in-the-darkness @crepes-is-life @bunnykyoka

Katai Tayama: @sleepyykatai

[sitkowski]

got me so tethered (nicholas x cam [ofc] for baddestomens)

a prompt request for the lovely @baddestomens! comes from the inexperienced smut prompts, with "i never thought you could make such sweet noises." - "Me either…" and "Do that again".

cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ praise kink, overstimulation, oral sex (f receiving), facesitting,discussions of anal fingering (m receiving), pegging, a smidgen of size queen nicholas hello. title comes from "roommates" by the home team. set in the same universe as just crash!

divider by @cafe-kitsune.

word count: 2k

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The last hour of work has been dragging by, and Cam contemplates just making a run for it. They’re down to the last few regulars lingering at the bar, nursing the same drinks, and she leans against the counter, blinking up at the clock. All she has to do is make it through the rest of her shift and then she’s home free for the weekend. Nicholas has a few weeks off tour, and she’s been enjoying having him home.

It’s been a year, to the day, since Cam flew out to Wyoming to reconnect with him. To say that it’s been perfect would probably be a cliche, but she’s never been happier. They make their schedules work together, ever so often she’ll spend time out on the road with the band. He’ll venture into the bar on some nights just to play pool with the guys and drive her crazy from across the room, simply by existing. Whenever he comes home, it’s to her and the cats and their apartment.

As if she summoned him, her phone chimes with a text notification. When Cam pulls her phone from her pocket, she finds a picture message waiting. She opens it, and immediately feels her heartbeat thudding in her ears. There’s nothing particularly wrong with the picture, except that she knows this picture of a simple black gift bag contains something special that she and Nicholas had been talking about for weeks.

 Cam takes a deep breath, before texting him back. She puts her phone away and tries to put it out of her mind, but it’s not easy. He knew exactly what he was doing when he sent her that, knowing that she wasn’t going to be able to leave work yet. She fully plans to make him pay for it. At the other end of the bar, someone calls her name and she takes the distraction gratefully.

It’s well after midnight by the time she lets herself in their apartment, but she knows that Nicholas is still up. She can hear the shower running as she shrugs out of her coat and kicks off her shoes, and her eyes immediately go to the bag sitting in the middle of their dining room table. Walking over to it, Cam opens it and peers inside, and even though she knows the plan she’s still a little surprised by its contents. She’d trusted him to pick out everything he wanted.

She doesn’t take anything out yet, instead she carries the bag into their bedroom and puts it on the bed. She thinks about going into the bathroom and joining him in the shower, but she lets him have that time to himself, especially since she told him in her text that he should get himself ready for her. Cam takes her time removing her makeup, changing into something more comfortable—one of Nicholas’ old t-shirts, well worn and soft.

Finally, she sits on the edge of the bed and opens the bag, reaching inside. The box she pulls out is heavy in her hands, and she runs her hands over it almost reverently. Lifting the lid, her eyes wide a little at the size of it. She knows they’d talked about ordering something custom to his size, and she’s obviously seen him more times than she can count, but holding it in her hands feels like something else entirely. Absently, she traces a finger up the length of it and she feels herself flushing bright red.

She’s still holding it in her hand when Nicholas comes out of the bathroom, a billow of steam following him as he knots a towel around his hips. He stops short when he sees her sitting there, obviously not knowing she was home yet. His eyes drift from her face to the box in her lap.

“Hi.” he says softly. “I see you found my present.”

Cam’s eyebrows raise and she laughs softly. “You mean your present for yourself. Is my baby a little size queen?”

It’s Nicholas’ turn to blush and he comes over, sitting down on the bed beside her. Droplets of water drip from the ends of his hair and onto her arm as he leans into her, his nose nudging against her cheek. “It’s for both of us, Camille.”

Letting out a breath, she nods. He did this while they were on tour, and she wants to tease him mercilessly about that, but she just finds the whole thing hot. Cam reaches into the bag again, pulling out the harness. It’s simple enough, and she holds it up with one finger, meeting his eyes again.

“Tell me what you want, Nicky.”

Nicholas doesn’t hesitate, “I want you to fuck me. With this.”

“You want me to fuck you with your cock, baby? I can do that. Whatever you want. Did you get yourself ready for me like I asked?”

He nods, tongue gliding along his bottom lip. Cam nods along with him, before setting everything aside. She likes the way he sits up a little straighter, the way he picks up on the shift in the atmosphere. They’ve always been so good at switching it up, reading each other. This is no different. She reaches out and winds a lock of his hair around her finger, giving it a little tug.

“How did you get yourself ready?”

It’s not as if this is something entirely new to them, she’s fingered him before while giving him head, they’ve played around with a few toys, but she’s never done this. Never fucked him. She loves the way the blush on his face spreads and he shifts around on the bed, the towel doing nothing to hide his growing arousal.

“With my fingers, like you told me to.”

She doesn’t need to imagine it, she’s seen it firsthand, the way he’s writhed on his own fingers, begging for something else and her promising to give it to him. She’s going to fulfill that promise now.

“Can I help you put it on?” he asks. Cam nods and stands up. She starts to take off the shirt she’s wearing but he shakes his head. “Leave it, I like seeing you in my clothes.”

She reaches beneath the shirt and takes off her panties, kicking them aside. Nicholas scoots forward on the bed, picking up the harness and the fake cock. It’s easy enough to fit together and put on her, and he adjusts the straps so they sit snugly on her hips. Her breath hitches at the weight of it, and not just in the physical sense. Nicholas is staring up at her in something close to awe, thumbs rubbing over her skin below the straps.

“Get the lube for me, baby.” she says softly and he moves back, tossing aside his towel as he goes.

Cam waits until he’s settled back against the pillows before she gets onto the bed with him. He makes a noise high in his throat as she crawls over to kneel between his thighs, and when she looks down, she sees the dildo alongside his own cock. She can’t help but roll her hips forward a little, rubbing against him, and even though she can’t feel it she knows that he can.

“Do that again.” he moans out, hands pulling desperately at her hips, trying to get her closer.

She rocks against him a few times, before leaning back and grabbing the bottle laying by his side. It’s a strange feeling, rubbing the lube over the fake cock and feeling nothing. But she still feels her skin prickle hotly just from the way Nicholas is watching her, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other wrapping around his cock and stroking it slowly. She nudges his legs further apart, eases a pillow beneath his hips, before leaning back over him to kiss him softly.

It’s a gradual process, him relaxing beneath her, practically melting into the mattress as she reaches down and guides the toy inside of him. Cam takes it so slow it’s probably considered some form of torture, but even though he said he prepped she doesn’t want to hurt him. She watches Nicholas’ face intently for any signs of discomfort, but all she sees is his eyes roll back as his head digs into the pillows beneath him, a strangled moan falling from his lips.

“Is this what it’s like for you? Every time?” he asks breathlessly, voice rising as she pushes all of the way inside until they’re flush together. “I don’t know if I should apologize or say thank you.”

“Not exactly like this, but something like it. Are you okay? Are you feeling good, Nicky?”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh, and she rubs her thumbs over his hips, wanting to give him a few moments to adjust. She can feel his thighs trembling on either side of her, sees the rapid rise and fall of his chest and when he fists his hand in the front of the shirt she’s still wearing to pull her over him to kiss her, she goes willingly.

Cam moves slowly at first, little twitches of her hips that make him squirm and gasp against her mouth. She pulls his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging, and he whines, trying to get her even closer as if that were possible, hands pawing at her hips and thighs.

“I never thought you could make such sweet noises.” she says, kissing his forehead before she slowly shuffles back to her knees.

Nicholas sighs, raking his hands through his hair and arching up into her. “Me either.”

Flicking her hair out of her face, Cam snaps her hips forward harder than before. He lets out a yelp and for a second, she thinks she’s hurt him. His nails dig into the skin of her thighs and she opens her mouth to tell him she’s sorry but he speaks before she can.

“Fucking do that again, Camille.”

She takes him at his word, putting as much strength as she can into each thrust. Nicholas slides a hand beneath her shirt, cupping one of her breasts and pinching her nipple, each helpless noise he lets out louder than the last. Cam leans down, licking the sweat from his collarbone and scrapes her teeth up his throat. She can feel his fist shifting against her stomach as he strokes himself.

It’s a surprise to both of them when he comes all over his hand and his stomach and the bottom of Cam’s shirt. He gasps for air and she moves back, rocking into him a few more times until he shakes his head and squirms a little more. She pulls out gently, and then he’s trying to pull her up, hands fumbling with the straps of her harness.

“Get this off, come on, come up here baby please…” she manages to wriggle out of everything and tosses it aside on the bed. She lets him pull her where he wants her, up until she’s straddling his face. Nicholas pulls more, insistent. “There we go, good girl, you were so fucking good to me. Let me return the favor.”

Cam doesn’t have time to do much more than grab onto the headboard before he’s yanking her down to his mouth, licking his way inside of her like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He leaves no space between them and she cries out, fisting a hand in his hair. When Nicholas wraps his lips around her clit and scrapes it with his teeth, she outright screams, slumping forward against the wall as she comes against his mouth. She tries to raise herself up, but he doesn’t stop, not until he’s pulled a second orgasm from her.

She’s finally able to collapse against his side, and she laughs shakily as she wipes tears from beneath her eyes. “You’re a fucking menace.”

He reaches down, hand wrapping around the side of her face to kiss her. “Happy anniversary.”

⇉ taglist:

@baddestomens @circle-with-me @deathblacksmoke @ladyveronikawrites

@malice-ov-mercy @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @collidewiththesavannah @thatchickwiththecamera

[demonprodigyy]

*small wave*

HIII!!!! chuuyas been spending a LOT more time on his phone recently and i wanted to see what my dog was up to on here!! slacking off is hard to do send me things to answer!!!

OOC: hey hey! its be again with a new blog, this is a 16 dazai blog!! dazai will use they/he and mod uses any prns!!

the other blogs i run are listed on @haruu-luv this will prob become a oblivious soukoku blog because when does it not

divider creds to cafe kitsune!!

[intriq]

Grief

batfam grief fic that i've been working on for far too long! is finally here! im back with the angst bois. i'd also like to apologize if this is insanely inaccurate/ooc of them bc lol its me

characters: Bruce, Dick, some of Tim

dividers thanks to cafe kitsune as always

There are five stages of grief. Bruce knows this. He’s dealt with them before.

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

Acceptance isn’t a stage Bruce has really gotten to yet. He doesn’t think so, at least. Not sure he ever will. He’s faced the anger and depression before, when his parents died. How he’d taken his anger out on the criminal underbelly of Gotham, using his anger to cleanse her streets of crime. Then spend hours in front of his parents grave, unable to think nor speak.

Now he has another grave to sit in front of, too. Jason’s grave. His second Robin, the one who he wants to make the last. He doesn’t want to doom another boy to death, not when he’d failed Jason.

Some days, Bruce can’t help but wander Crime Alley. Like he was hoping that someway, somehow, he’d run into that scrawny kid Jason had been back then. He’d give anything to see him trying to steal a tire off the Batmobile again. Anything. Hell, he wouldn’t even mind being hit with the tire-iron again.

He also sometimes wonder if Dick blames him just as much as he blames himself. If only he’d been a little faster. If only he could have been quicker, then he could’ve saved him. Saved his son.

Sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he can still see the explosion before him. The bright glowing hues, vibrant enough to leave specks of color behind his eyes for days to come. The sudden wash of heat, the ringing in his ears. Some days he can still hear and see the explosion that took his son from him, left him as a failure of a father and mentor.

He makes himself remember his failure by putting up a memorial of Jason in the Batcave. Curse him if he ever dared to forget his greatest failure; the failure to save his son.

The failure of not being able to protect him.

Dick could never blame Bruce. Bruce hadn’t been the one to set that bomb. Bruce hadn’t been the one to beat Jason senseless. But that didn’t mean he had the courage to go over and visit.

Not when Jason’s memorial, even his own grave would be there to taunt him. To give him a bitter reminder that his little wing was gone. He wishes he’d visited Gotham more often before Jason died, spent a little more time there. His way of grieving Jason’s death is quiet, with his emotions doing all the talking behind the doors of his apartment.

Dick is broken by the loss, but he is nowhere near as shattered as Bruce. Dick is used to working alone now. Bruce has to grow used to the quiet. How he can’t turn to ask his Robin a question to keep him on his toes and alert.

He also has to see how Alfred sometimes forgets to not set out an extra plate where Jason would sit to eat. Pot roast doesn’t taste quite as good as it used to; no matter how good of a cook Alfred is. It just makes him nauseated by the smell of it; and now it had been Jason’s favorite.

Criminals whisper and talk about how Joker seems to have broken Batman, with the way he wanders. The Gotham Gazette talks about how distanced and quiet billionaire Bruce Wayne seems. Citing testimonies from Wayne Enterprises employees of how he seems to look out the windows if his office; as if he were in a different place. In a trance.

Of course, Bruce doesn’t try to let this impact his work. He works more than he used to. Makes a record of locking up criminals and going through dizzying stacks of documents in mere hours.

Bruce busies himself. Drowns himself in work he knows that can be easily delegated to Lucius. Works himself until he’s dead tired, unable to keep his eyes open a moment longer. Even with the aide of caffeine, he still manages to fall asleep. Most nights his efforts are fruitful, and he doesn’t dream. That’s what he wants, to dream of nothing but a void. But that’s only most nights.

Other nights, Bruce dreams. He dreams vivid memories of that night. It’s an endless loop, though. Each time he thinks he gets close enough to save Jason, the warehouse explodes before him and he’s right back to where he started. Running, failing. Running and failing. Running, failing, repeat.

Over and over again. It’s the same ending each time; plays out the same each time. All until he finally wakes up and is freed by the waking world from the relentless cycle.

Bruce once dreamt that he succeeded; saved his son in time. Cradled his son’s broken body in his arms and told him he was sorry, holding him as gentle as he can so he doesn’t hurt him further. That time he’d even told his son, in that dream, that it’s okay to fail sometimes. He didn’t have to be the perfect Robin. That he didn’t need to be as great of a Robin as Dick was. That he was good enough in his own right, in his own way. Even apologizing for never saying it when he should’ve, promising to say it more often.

And then he woke up.

He woke up and remembered that he hadn’t saved his son. That he didn’t get to him in time. He’d been too late, just like his apologies were coming far too late.

When Tim first comes into the picture, taking the mantle as Robin via means of blackmail, he wasn’t expecting the void it had left for him to fill. Bruce always seemed careful around him, sometimes nearly calling him by a name that wasn’t his. Jason. It happened quite a bit the first few weeks, and Alfred had almost mistakenly had him sit where Jason used to.

Tim does his best to learn about Jason. Trying to find scraps of information throughout the manor, trying to piece together what he needed to figure out just how big the void he was filling was. And it’s hard to find much of anything, besides pictures. But he did learn more from the library, which had been neglected since his death. Alfred came in to clean it, of course. But it otherwise was devoid of people.

Tim learned about Jason through the books he’d read, reading his annotations. Noting how some books seemed more loved than the others. And what he deduced was simple.

He could be Robin, but he could never be the same Robin neither Dick or Jason were. He could never completely fill the shattered void left by Jason’s violent death. And he hoped he never would.

Sometimes Tim can’t help but feel like he doesn’t belong. The way the memorial for Jason stands in the Batcave, almost like a hovering promise to tell Tim that he had no right to be here. What good had he done, forcing a man to take him on in the same role his dead son once held? What right did Tim have to sit in the mantle of Robin? What audacity?

Perhaps even now, Tim will wonder what right he had. What right to demand to be Bruce’s next Robin. Because he’ll never know, truly. He may think of himself as better than Jason, but is he truly?

tags: @brucewaynesspouse @fallingwaynes @mysticalemmi @slutforjasontodd @sylvemooniet @ceyla016 [<---hi there!]

i feel like im forgetting some people to tag lmao

[yourfriendlybi]

==> ALPHA'S BLOG INTRO

*Howdy, the names Alpha but I can go by Al, Wyvern or Chaos! I go by she/her and they/them pronouns but overall, I can go by any/all pronouns.

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-UnderTale Multiverse

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-Homestuck

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Credits:

Dividers: Saradika Graphics, Cafe Kitsune, Sister Lucifer

[yourfreakybi]

INTRODUCTION:

Heya, it's Wyvern, I use she/her and they/them pronouns, but any/all works just fine. I'm nineteen (19), so I can legally be allowed to run this type of blog!!

I mainly made this blog so I can reblog and say things that aren't meant to be seen by children or anyone who doesn't want to see it on my main blog!

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BOUNDARIES:

This is a strictly an 18+ blog, so if you are 17 and under, I beg you to leave this blog! Also having no age anywhere will get you a big old block.

Don't send me bullshit like incest, pedophilia, necrophilia, or zoophilia, in any context.

I prefer if you didn't call me "Alpha" on this blog

MORE INFORMATION: ദ്ദി（• ˕ •マ.ᐟ

[★] What is the point of this blog?

It's simply a self-indulgent type of blog, mainly for sexual stuff, but anything can be here, it's always a surprise!

Most things you see here isn't how I actually view these characters out of this setting lmao, unless it's about my OC's, even that's a sometimes.

[★] Main Tags:

#CW {blank}: Fill in the blank for what needs to be filtered

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[deathwishedx]

Welcome To My Silly Blog!

WARNING!!!: This blog contains NSFT.

content, I do however have sfw

sideblogs that I follow for sometimes!

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[storiesandstars]

Year of the OTP March Prompt: Acceptance

Read on AO3 | Feat: Mako-chan from Sil Mil: Tales of the Gods

“Y’say you’ve been summoned by the Lady? For what? To tame tha’ great beast we jus' barely managed to get into our paddock?” The grizzled driftsman rubbed his short, grey beard and looked over Lita quizzically. He turned to a boy who was standing beside him as if the teen would clear up his confusion. She could well imagine what he saw looking at her, standing there clad in her Amalthean travelling cloak.

Lita shrugged, holding up the envelope containing the request from the Lady Rhean herself. Granted, it was a request the Lady had put forth to Lita’s father but as he’d already been dispatched on caravan business, it was decided that Lita should fill the request. It wouldn’t do to disobey the caravan Matriarch's orders. Or to keep the Regent’s favourite cousin waiting, of course. Lita had no other choice but to accept, not that she would've gone with any other choice.

“Well,” she exhaled, “Not necessarily for your great beast. I gathered that the summons was for us to provide our knowledge on gryphons in general.”

The driftsman squinted at the envelope before turning to one of the several young men at his side, telling one of them to get someone from the estate to verify the envelope and request. A young man took off at a steady lope through the ranch, headed towards the sprawling mansion to the northeast. Lita eyed the six men, of varied ages, standing around her working at their various stations. Some of them stared boldly at her, their gazes ranging from curious to doubtful. Others merely turned back to what they were working on, unwilling to waste too much time on some strange girl.

She gave in to the urge to look around and gawk at one of the largest gryphon refuges across Jupiter. Excitement had been humming under her skin her entire journey here. Settled in the majestic Rhean Valley, and surrounded by the craggy, ancient Tinian mountains, this pioneering ranch served to rescue and rehabilitate endangered gryphons. It had been the first of its kind.

“Well, young lady, we’ll hafta wait until someone comes from the estate. Y’understand,” the old driftsman explained, his eyes already drifting away from Lita as his attention waned. There were likely many things he could be doing, could be completing if it weren’t for her taking up his time. She opened her mouth to say she was fine waiting right where she was, but he spoke up again before she could.

“What’d y’say your name was?”

Lita cleared her throat. “I actually hadn’t said my name. I’m Lita Shelan of Caravan Shelan.”

His dark grey eyes were now sharply assessing as they swung her way and he looked at her anew.

“A Shelan y’say? By Apollo’s bow, y’oughta be related to Zev Shelan then?” he boomed, his tone insistent.

She nodded and looked around at some of the wide eyed stares she was now receiving from those who’d heard her introduce herself.

“He’s, uh, he’s my father,” she admitted with a quiet pride. “I was sent in his stead.”

The old man huffed out a laugh that sounded more like a wheeze and he heartily clapped the young teen beside him on the back in amusement. Lita pitied the boy, who winced under the hefty hand.

“And what can I call you, sir?” Lita ventured when no name was offered in return.

By now, any of the driftsmen that hadn’t wandered off during their transaction were chuckling at the old man who took the ribbing in stride.

“Bah! Don’t y’dare call me sir. Y’can call me Bron.”

A piercing shriek sounded from where the wild gryphon was being kept in the massive domed paddock to her right. Her head swung in that direction, her eyes wide. The gryphon sounded furious with their captivity.

“That does not sound good,” she murmured, not looking away from the struggling gryphon. The domed paddock, the first of its kind that Lita had laid eyes on had to be a marvel of mercurian origin. Slender metal poles forming triangles provided structure to the massive spherical dome.

Bron walked up beside her, stopping at her side and gazing in the direction of the domed paddock.

"The dome-" she began.

“Aye. It's the latest joint venture between them Mercurians and the Uranians," Bron interjected.

The boy who seemed to be following Bron around came to stand by Lita on her other side. Curious, she glanced down at him, nodding in greeting. He looked to be in his early teens, perhaps slightly younger. He had similar colouring to Bron, perhaps they were related?

His eyes, a serious, dark grey, studied her for a moment. Looking her over with an equal curiosity, eying the pattern of her cloak until his eyes caught and stayed on her hair. Lita knew the deep auburn colour of her hair wasn’t usual, but it wasn’t exactly that rare. His slow, careful nod in return told her that she’d passed some kind of test she hadn't even known about.

"This dome doesn't have glass panes like the others that have been built in Ganymede and Io," he explained. "Each metal triangle creates an expandable energy field of-"

"Uranian energy," Bron cut in, sticking something in his mouth and beginning to chew. Loudly.

The boy continued on as if there hadn't been an interruption.

"We didn't want to risk hurting the gryphons we rescue with glass."

Lita blinked down at the top of his dark head and hummed with interest as he gazed back out towards the dome and the rescued gryphon. She hadn't expected all of that information from him.

“When did the gryphon arrive?” Lita inquired, unsure how much more they would want to share with a stranger.

“He was delivered to us three days ago,” the boy answered. “Brought in by Apollon rangers.”

Lita nodded. “Has it been like this the entire time?” she questioned further.

“Aye, that it has,” came Bron’s heavy answer.

The boy cleared his throat to gain her attention and she gave it to him, meeting his eyes.

“We think it could be a Thunder gryphon.”

Right then, that changed everything. Thunder gryphons were godtouched gryphons, the chosen steeds of the All-Father himself. Bron grunted in agreement before beginning his own interrogation.

“What d’you reckon? We’ve never encountered a Thunder gryphon before.” Bron held up his hand up as the boy opened his mouth. “Oh aye, we nearly had one sent our way years ago but the palace caught wind and since yer caravan was up that way, well, there was no more need for us to interfere.”

She’d been too young to accompany her father at the time, but she’d remembered what it had been like to watch him come home with a new title, Storm Rider.

“My father never spoke much to me about his experience with that Thunder gryphon,” she admitted truthfully. “All I’d be able to offer is my knowledge based on the care of regular gryphons.”

Bron hummed and rubbed at his beard after hearing her words.

“Well, perhaps direct observation might better inform your advice?”

All three of them turned around at the sound of a woman’s voice.

“Mom!”

“M’lady.”

The boy beelined for his mother, ducking out of the way reflexively when she reached out to ruffle his hair affectionately. This had to be Lady Rhean, cousin to the Regent of Jupiter. Lita bowed and straightened, getting a good look at a woman she’d admired for a long time.

The lady was smaller than she’d imagined. Lita herself was tall for a woman and this woman merely came up to her shoulder. Her eyes were a hazel-green, unlike her son's eyes but it was very clear where he'd gotten his dark head of hair from.

“You’re Zev’s daughter, aren’t you? I’ve not yet had the pleasure of meeting you. Your father has managed to keep you hidden all of these years!”

Lita smiled at her, a bit uncertainly, unable to ignore how keenly the lady was observing her.

“Yes, my Lady."

Lady Rhean hummed still taking her in with bright eyes. She appeared to come to some sort of decision internally, because she lifted her chin and began marching past Lita and Bron. Her son was quick to follow in her footsteps.

"Come along, little Shelan. Let's see about a Thunder gryphon."

Lita gulped nervously, but followed regardless, butterflies erupting in her stomach.

I'm going to finish this prompt challenge whenever the hell I end up finishing it. Mwahahha. Ugh, no, but what if they come out with a new prompt list next year? x_X