#how did this become over 1000 words

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[utterlyotterlyx]

18 with Azriel because mans is taaaaall

Little Thing

Summary - Azriel loves finding any reason to hold you, his height restricted mate, in his arms, and isn't ashamed to admit it.

Warnings - absolutely none really, slight swearing, just Az fluff x 1000

"I've been breaking my back to kiss you."

"I'm not that fucking short."

The weight that occasionally pressed against the tips of his toes had become something he found endearing, because it meant that you were trying with all of your might to kiss him by using his feet as leverage to boost your own height.

Azriel was abnormally tall, his six foot seven to your five foot three was the source of copious amounts of teasing from your shared family, mostly from Cassian who always questioned aloud how Azriel fit inside of you, like it was all he thought about whenever he looked at the two of you.

"Would you like to watch since you're so intrigued about our sex life, Cass?"

"I, uh-," Cassian had stuttered that chill afternoon, the stars had blanketed across the sky, and you were stood in the centre of the lounge in your floor length skirt which only reached Azriel's knees, (he'd tried it on one day much to your delight); you were tapping your foot against the wooden floor, eyebrow arched and waiting for a real answer, "No."

Azriel had to give it to Cassian, and Rhys, and well anyone who questioned how Azriel, the brother with the largest wingspan, managed to fit inside of you. Cassian said often that his cock must rearrange your insides and he was surprised how you could walk around after your nights, mornings, and afternoons together, let alone go to work and live a normal life.

"Thought not. Shame, you could have learnt a thing or two for Nesta," Azriel chortled at your words and sent a wave of pride and adoration down the bond, a shower of affection that you lapped up.

"Ouch, y/n. That stung," Cassian fluttered his fingers over his heart and winced dramatically.

"Bite me," you flipped him off and headed back into the kitchen where the most incredible aromas floated from.

Once a month, you promised to cook a family dinner for them all, having negotiated your family away from the once a week they had begged for. It was as though they believed that you didn't have a life. The most decadent bakery in Velaris had your name plastered on the front of it in pale blue swirls, that was how you had met Azriel, after Feyre had dragged him into the store owned by the tiny fae female who made the best pastries she had ever tasted in her life.

The bond had snapped immediately for him when he saw you in your black apron dusted with flour, pink icing and white buttercream on your cheeks, hair strewn up but spilling over your forehead, boxing up a larger than you three tier cake without breaking a sweat.

The pastries you had made for him once you had decided to accept the bond, and the life that came with it, were almost as good as the passionate love he gave you that night.

Azriel loved everything about you, from the larger than life ferocity and sass you carried in your tiny body, to your equally ferocious loving heart; you were independent, talented, sweet, and kind, a ray of sunshine in his otherwise shadowed reality.

Though, there were two things that Azriel loved more than anything. The first was being able to find any excuse to lift you up in his hands, whether that be to help you reach the top shelf or fuck you against a wall; he wouldn't admit it easily, but he did purposefully hide things out of reach from you so that he had a reason to hold you in his large hands. The second thing he adored was how you would stand on his feet, on your tiptoes, to capture his lips on yours. It was such a sickly sweet part of you, but one that he wouldn't change for anything.

Hearing you strain, Azriel furrowed his brow, imagining you struggling to reach the second shelf of the cupboard in a home where furniture had been made for three huge Illyrians, not a tiny fae baker. Rounding the corner, he smirked at your form, he smirked at the way your skirt was hitched around your thighs as you clambered onto a nearby chair to hop onto the countertop.

Azriel sauntered over to you, laying his large hands on your hips and pressing his lips to the small of your back, grinning against your skin when you shuddered at the contact, "Need any help?" Azriel had moved the stool away from the edge of the counter, placing himself where it used to be.

Turning in his hands, you looked down on him with a wide smile, "No, I got it," you presented the bag of sugar to him and he took it from your fingers, placing it down for you, "Is this what it's like to be you? I can see so much up here."

Azriel chuckled, resting his chin on your stomach and peering up at you through his long lashes that always made you curse his Illyrian genes, "I guess so," he shrugged, locking his arms around your hips, enjoying the moment you had taken to run your fingernails over his scalp which drew a whine from his lips.

Taking his face in your hands, you leaned down and placed your lips to his, a tender embrace, one full of love and the faint taste of your vanilla lip balm that gave your lips the most incredible glossy finish, "How does it feel to kiss someone taller than you?"

Grinning, Azriel prodded, "Amazing actually. I've been breaking my back to kiss you."

You gasped, swatting his shoulder with the towel you had tucked into the back of your skirt, "I'm not that fucking short!"

His laugh boomed throughout the kitchen as you fiddled with the ends of your hair, "Okay, maybe I am just a little bit. Cassian's right, how do we have sex?" Azriel continued to laugh at your mumbling as he lifted you from the counter, placing you back on to the ground which felt so far away from where you were stood moments before.

Your mate bent down to peck your pouting bottom lip, pulling you into his body and stroking his fingers through your hair, "Who are we to question science? It works, that's good enough for me."

"It's definitely good enough for me."

"Oh I know. You told me as much last night - ow!" Azriel hissed as you dug your heel into his foot, frowning, he asked, "What was that for?"

Your cheeks flushed pink and you bashfully whispered, "I don't need Cassian to know what I tell you when we're doing that."

"You said it first."

"And?" There it was, the sass, the popped hip and arched brow, "Now move, I need to finish cooking and you're blocking my view."

Azriel smirked, "Oh my beautiful little thing, but I am the view."

A giggle floated through your lips, his favourite sound apart from when you were moaning his name beneath him, "You're lucky I love you," you fell into his open arms and pressed your lips to his clothed chest, to the exact place where your lips always met when you stood before him.

"I wouldn't change anything about you, you know that right?"

Humming in agreement, your hands wrapped around his back, "I know, Az," you pulled away, craning your neck toward the ceiling to look at him, "I'd change one thing about you though," his face dropped, "That you'd stop purposefully hiding things on the top shelf."

Azriel took a step back, "You know?!"

Scoffing, you turned, focusing back to the slowly simmering melting chocolate on the stove top, "Of course I know. I'm small, not dumb."

Azriel's warmth swarmed you, his huge arms nestled over your chest, and he rested his head atop your own, "All I can do is do it a little less. You know I like man-handling you. It makes me feel strong."

"Big Illyrian baby."

Authors Note

Just a little drabble on a Wednesday evening x

[ambrosiagoldfish]

hi! can i request headcanons of Adam x Male Angel! Reader who is sweet, kind and never curses? preferly sfw and nsfw but if u don't write smut for Male Reader, that's fine!

hope u have a Nice day <3

Adam x Kind Angel Reader HC’s

Warnings: General Adam TW’s, NSFW in latter half of post, He/Him pronouns with Male Genitalia. Slight Degradation/dirty talk. Fluff + Smut

Request Box: Open

Word Count: 820

A/n: thank you so much for the request! I had a lot of fun with this one! I did make it on the shorter side but that’s only because it’s quite difficult to make Headcanon’s 1000+ words without other characters but nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! Also I decided to make this little header thing for fics! I’ve seen a few others do it and the GIF’s I normally use are becoming a hassle to find. Let me know if you guys like it!

SFW

Oh boy, this relationship really is a match that could only be made in heaven. No one would have expected Adam to date a man who is the complete opposite of him. If anything, people expected someone like him or even Lute!! But you? They never could have predicted that.

But what can you do, opposites do attract.

You’re always being so kind to him, telling him he looks handsome, helping him with any and all work he might have to do, and on top of it you bring him gifts and trinkets! Not to mention all the delicious treats you get him that are almost as sweet as you.

And to be honest, this really messes with Adam, cause you’re literally so sweet and thoughtful but he doesn’t have anything to give you in return besides sex. At least that’s what he thinks but in reality he gives you so much more than he gives himself credit for.

He plays you songs on the guitar, takes you out to fancy restaurants, and over all treats you with love and affection than any other has. But even if none of that was true, you don’t do anything and everything for him because you want something in return. You love Adam completely unconditionally.

The no cursing thing is something that genuinely gets on his nerves. Cause like, he could never. This man has the mouth of a sailor and the delicacy of a bull in a china shop. Which is one of the traits you love about him, that he says what he wants. But also you’re just like “Sir, this is not what The Father intended-“

“Neither was putting my dick in another guys ass but look, I’m still here bitch!”

And it especially bugs Adam, if instead of cursing, you replace swears with other words. Like the other day you stubbed your toe when landing on ground and Adam had fully expected for you to do what he does, which is scream the loudest swear and be pissed off at everyone for 20 minutes. But instead….

“OW Fudging chocolate chip-“

“JUST SAY FUCK”

So, ever since that day, Adam has sworn to one day take your ‘cursing virginity’, at least that’s what he calls it. And he try’s so hard to do so, which is a slight bit of trouble cause he doesn’t want to like, be a complete douche to you.

So until he figures out a way to get you to curse, he’s pretty stumped at the moment. But still, he absolutely adores you.

NSFW

Oh Boy x2

Everything I said previously still stands if not double the amount. This man wants to do the👏Most👏Unholiest👏Things👏To👏You👏

Loves to see your kind and sweet personality slowly crumble because of his cock.

‘Who knew you could be such a slut?’

He loves that your personality carries over during sex, you give him everything you’ve got and then some. You want to do your best for him after all.

Speaking of which, if you worship him in any way that man is cumming IMMEDIATELY. He really just wants to feel like he’s above everyone else, and Surprise surprise, he has a praise and you being the, oh so thoughtful person you are, you make sure to completely indulge that aspect of him.

You babble so much about how good his cock feels hitting your prostate over and over again. How well he’s making you feel like like the Good Boy he is. It really gets it him going.

Remember how I said he’s trying to make you lose your ‘Cursing Virginity’? Yeah well, this is how. He is SO determined to get you to spill out just one swear while he goes to town on you. Is it the most holy thing he should do? No. But how could he not fuck your brains out till you break your own moral code?

He tries so hard too. He has yet to get you there but he has come close. When he had you in a mating press, legs over his shoulders, your ankle’s lightly hitting the base of his wings with each thrust.. You couldn’t stop begging for him to cum inside you as you came for the Xth time in a row.

“Please Adam! P-Please! Fu~“ you cut yourself off with a hand to your mouth.

Adam looked at you with his signature grin, his hips not stopping their movements to pump himself in and out of you. “Was you about to say something babe?”

You held your hand against your mouth shaking your head ‘no’ clearly trying to make it seem like you weren’t about to drop the f bomb.

“Mhm, right~ let’s see if I can pry some other ‘naughty’ fuxkin’ words out of ya!” He laughs a wicked laugh as he switches the position so that he’s somehow even more atop of you. Leaving you a completely, moaning, helpless mess for him to dominate >:)

[drunkenlionwrites]

A tale of tails

That's just me being bummed out by Dan Heng's model not having tail like Bailu does. Why is my boy devoid of tail? That's not fair. Warnings: afab reader, monsterfucking (duh), smut and fluff, bad puns, pwp, this is basically 1000 words of you getting off by riding Dan Heng's tail.

You’ve been sitting in your lover’s room for some time already. Well…the archive room, to be exact, though you never have minded that. It made you feel calm and relaxed. The interior of it being just as ascetic and restrained as Dan Heng. You loved everything about it: the dark wooden panels on the walls, the number of paper books and records he possessed. It reminded you of art deco style, though it looked and felt much cozier. The effect was made by the fact that the two walls were angled, making the room resemble a rustic attic.

Both of you were relaxing in his makeshift bed, sitting shoulder to shoulder, backs pressed to the wall, your head leaning on him, as he has been reading you the book of your choosing. It’s the first time you’ve felt at peace, Dan Heng with the rest of the crew returning from Xianzhou Luofu. That’s not pointing out the fact, that Dan Heng returned with some additions in form of horns, pointy ears and a tail, as well as the knowledge that he is not a human, but a Vidyadhara, which caused a temporary rift between you since Dan Heng once again wanted to ponder over everything and take some time to himself.

You’ve been completely absorbed in the moment, just enjoying the feeling of closeness, Dan Heng’s calming narration slowly lulling you to sleep, until you’ve felt something warm and scaly sliding up your thigh, enveloping it. Your eyes immediately darting to your legs, only to find Dan Heng’s tail curling around your right thigh, the side of it almost touching your core. He seemed to not be paying any kind of attention to that, continuing reading, then looking at you with a slight frown of his brows since you’ve become clearly distracted with something. “Should I stop reading, seems like you’re tired of listening anyway. Would you like simply to go to bed?” Dan Heng calmly asked, looking at you and noticing your slight unease. “Did something happen? Did you think of something not quite pleasant?” “No…it’s just…um…your tail…” you mumbled, being a bit flustered, feeling the strong muscle of his tail enveloping your leg and touching your pussy in passing. “Oh, my apologies. I haven’t yet gotten accustomed to it. You…hate it?” He looked at you with a seemingly calm face, yet you’ve noticed bits of hesitation and worry in his voice, which made your heart sink. “No! No, you know that I love you? That means all the parts of you. Both your body and your soul. And now…your immortality and what it entails. No pun intended” you replied softly. “To be honest…I rather…like it? More parts of you that I can touch, or maybe…um…you can touch me with?” you’ve felt antsy just straight up admitting it to him, feeling your panties getting wet at the thought, but hey, honest and straightforward communication on your part usually helped resolve any bumps in your relationship.

You’ve noticed Dan Heng’s eyes widening a little at your confession, the tips of his ears and his cheeks dusted in peachy pink. “You mean that?” he asked, to which you nervously nodded. You expected him to drop the topic and go back to reading, or start a serious conversation once again on how he’s not a regular human, but what you wasn’t expecting was him moving closer to you, his hands tossing the book to the side and moving to your hip and thigh, gently stroking you, his lips lightly brushing your ear while he whispered “You sure?” which earned him your breathy “yes” and a small shudder of your body.

“Then, would you really enjoy me doing this?” he softly asked, while uncoiling his tail from your leg and moving him down straight to your pussy, prodding you and making you lift yourself up a bit, so it could slide under you. Now you were practically straddling it, with Dan Heng slowly straining his muscles, moving his tail back and forth against your clothed cunt. You mewled and rocked your hips against him a few times, breathing out “You told me…you didn’t know how to use it yet.” He chuckled a bit at that, enjoying your already disheveled state. “I told you I’m not accustomed to it yet. And now you’re helping me practice, my love.” He said in a sly voice, pressing his tail harder against you, his pace fastening. You could swear that the wetness and stickiness of your arousal leaked and stained his scales even through your panties, the fabric doing nothing to reduce the sensation of his tail steadily stoking you. “Shit…Dan Heng, I cannot take it for much longer” you exhaled, your hips rocking against him, your hands clutching the upper part of his tail to steady yourself, your movements more and more erratic with each moment, you’ve been on the verge of orgasm in mere moments due to the previously not experienced kind of stimulation and the realization of what you two have actually been doing. Damn, do I have a new kind of kink now? You managed to ask yourself before your mind has gotten completely devoid of coherent thoughts. “Then take as much as you can” Dan Heng chuckled, with mirth in his voice, which made you grind yourself harder against him, only taking you few more minutes to feel your face and ears getting completely hot before you completely lost all your senses in a powerful orgasm recking your body. Gaining your consciousness, you leaned back to the wall, hoisting yourself up for Dan Heng to remove his tail from under you, breath still heavy, senses still heightened and pussy still fluttering.

“Since when you became so blunt and forward?” you asked. Kissing your temple and bringing your head to rest back on his shoulder, Dan Heng replied “Guess somebody rubbed off on me. No pun intended.”

If you loved the work, please reblog!

[edlucavalden]

Im too exausted for proper(ish) essays, but im so crazy over this scene. i can't contain myself

TW for: S/A !!! (For the nature of the writing and well—the scene itself)

He's confused at first. he doesn't know what is going on. This slight pause isn't because he's scared or frozen but to assess the situation. After all It was kinda sudden.

All he doesn't like this feeling. he feels uncomfortable and that some sort of boundry has been breached. But he hasn't fully processed it yet.

And right before he fully comprehends and does something about it—

He suddenly becomes compliant?

It's like he forgot what he was gonna do—like He loses the motivation to enforce his boundaries.

he still feels uncomfortable. that doesn't change. But he isnt aware of that. Well, that makes sense... since he never really did fully process what was happening. It's like he lost the will to care about or process it.

This panel. Christ... Thistle finally builds up the power to say stop. It's weak—confused and disoriented. I dont think it's even directed to anything specifically. Its intentions are vague.

But god... and the lion's response? Reassurance. how he can't help it, he needs this to live, he's been waiting for so long—oh, and don't worry, I'll take care of you.

It's just so chilling after this.

Thistle's powerless, weak, and complaicent. It's out of character for thistle. This entire scene is. However It's still thistle. His behavior and actions are his own, and for me that's the terrifying part.

This wasn't... Forced? There's no fighting and thrashing— Its just a complete submission. he reacted yeah but he didn't resist. he didn't fight back even if he had the ability to (we know bc he has, for 1000 years in fact). The lion didn't directly force him either. It didn't violently force him to have its way. But it's still violating. And that's the thing; the assult wasnt violent, but passive.

Hi guys just to reiterate that I did NOT mean to say that sexual cohesion is not an act of force. this part is ment reiterate that it "wasn't forced" in the sterotypical way of resisting, i followed it up by saying that it is still violating despite that and i emhasized that idea in the parts after that,. This part (more so the entire work in general) is ment to emphasize the passive yet transgressive nature of cohesion. i SINCERELY apologize if that was the message that was interpreted from that part. I did not intend it to mean that way.

The demon has slowly but surely torn down thistle's sense of self so much it turned him into a completely different person. Like his identity was shattered and rebuilt to submit.

It starts small, building up the situation, taking away his desire to resist and enforce his boundaries, then it gives a rose tinted explanation of what is happening. Finally, it comforts and praises him. This is what gives thistle the illusion of choice, a passive way of getting him vulnerable.

You can see how it affected him vividly through this part. it's like he forgets what he was fighting for. He forgets his boundaries, his identity, the things he cares about, everything. It's being ripped away from him.

Thistle never stood a chance.

It wasn't his fault he submitted. It was the demon's for putting him in that state. His complaicency is due to the fact that he had no power for any other way.

it never mattered that thistle never fought back. Even if he did fight back or didn't, even if he succeeded or not—what then? it would never change the demon's nature. One who seeks consumption will always consume. In other words; it will always find a way.

I honestly dont think it was the demon's intention to harm thistle. It's selfish but not moralisticly evil (nothing ever is). It seeks fulfillment and not suffering. But its blind pursuit for satisfaction caused suffering, That's what makes it malicious. It doesn't matter if he intented or was aware of it or not. the demon benefited from something that could harm him and did it despite that. And that will never change.

[fairy-writes]

Hello!! I really like u and think ur really cool! Can I request an rivals to lovers with hoshina? Like you've been rivals ever since high school and noticed that you both become a part of the defense force at the same time and the rivalry grew stronger and then like you've heard the other officers talking bad things about him and then instantly defended him since you acknowledge him as someone who is strong and wouldn't let anyone bad mouth about him despite being rivals and then he heard it

once again i really really really love u and have this friend crush on u <33

ONE-SIDED CONFLICT

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8

Pairing(s): Hoshina Soshiro x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Rivals

Notes: Not my best work, but I don’t really know how to write Rivals to Lovers rip

I really hope you enjoy it, at least a little bit! Thanks for reading! <3

__________________________________________________________________________

Your rivalry with Hoshina Soshiro was more of a one-sided conflict. Well… that wasn’t explicitly true. He just got under your skin a lot more than you got under his. He always watched you with that shit-eating grin on his face, like he was watching something amusing. 

And that aggravated you. 

But… Nothing aggravated you more than people smack-talking him. 

“Can you believe it?” 

“I can’t!”

“Why would they bother letting someone with blades be a Vice-Captain?”

“I’ll bet you 1000 yen that he bribed his way to that position.”

You clench your hand around your coffee mug until it nearly cracks as you hear your fellow members of the Third Division talking about the newest Vice-Captain.

Hoshina Soshiro.

The very name gets your blood boiling and your heart racing. You were both blade users in the Defense Force. Perhaps some of the only ones. You were the only ones to primarily use blades. Sure, you could use guns and heavy artillery if the situation called for it. But there was something about slicing through kaiju flesh that gave you a certain thrill. 

It also didn’t help that you and Hoshina had some sort of ‘rivalry’ going on. It wasn’t outright declared, but seeing as you two came from different clans that specialized in kaiju slaying, the odds were pitted against you from the start. 

It was always, “Look at what Hoshina Soshiro accomplished!” and never, “Good job at rising through the ranks!” So perhaps that contributed to your upbringing and the need to take him down. But even so, you could acknowledge his skill and prowess with the katana and even more so with slaying kaiju. 

Which is why it made you so angry to see other people try to tear him down. 

Your coffee mug actually cracked when you flexed your fingers and started leaking said coffee all over the table. But you paid it no mind.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” You snap at your teammates, and they look at you dumbly. Almost like they can’t believe someone is standing up for Vice-Captain Hoshina. 

He was just that, your Vice-Captain. 

They should respect him. 

“I’m sorry?” One of your teammates asks incredulously, and you roll your eyes.

“He obviously earned that position. So you should respect that. He wouldn’t be our Vice-Captain if he wasn’t qualified!” 

“Perfectly said, Platoon Leader.” You flinch, duck your head out of reflex, and turn to see the man you had been talking about. 

Hoshina Soshiro is watching you with that same shit-eating grin he always has on his face. He studies you with a calm expression. As if he didn’t care about what others were saying. And maybe he didn’t. But you certainly did. 

Everyone turns back to their meals with quiet grumbles, but no one says what they had been saying to his face. He jerks his head to the side for you to follow him. So, you begrudgingly get up and follow after, leaving your cracked coffee mug and spill behind. 

You follow your new Vice-Captain down the hall until you reach his new office. He leaves the door cracked open to give you an escape. That was the peculiar thing about him. He always gave you an escape from whatever you were doing. Whether that was sparring with him or studying together, he always gave you an out. 

Hoshina claimed it was to preserve your dignity when he whooped your ass in whatever competition you competed in. But, more often than not, you didn’t need an out. 

Because most competitions ended in draws between the two of you. 

“Vice-Captain?” You ask, mildly confused when he comes to a stop before the large windows behind his desk that overlook the Third Division base. Captain Ashiro’s is a floor above his, but his office is still impressive in its own right. 

“Y’know, fightin’ with your fellow teammates isn’t the best idea.” He said, and you huffed,

“It was hardly a fight.” You grumble, and he turns, his eyebrow arched and a look on his face that screams, “Really?”.

“We both know that infamous temper of yours would’ve gotten you into more trouble than was worth.” He borderline teased, and you can feel your ears burn with embarrassment. 

He knew you well. That was one of the downsides of being rivals with him since high school. He knew all your tricks and tics just like you knew his. 

“If I may, Vice-Captain—”

“Soshiro.” He cuts you off, and you stare stupidly, almost not comprehending the words that just came out of his mouth. But you gather yourself and push on, 

“Fine, Soshiro. If I may, they shouldn’t be talking about you like that, regardless of how you feel. You’re pretty incredible with a blade, and they should respect that.” 

Hoshina—no, Soshiro—stares at you almost as stupidly as you felt, eyes cracked open slightly in shock. 

Then he begins to laugh. 

And laugh. 

And laugh. 

“I think that’s the nicest you’ve ever been to me!” He wheezes, wiping a tear from his eye as he composes himself and leans his hands on his desk. Your ears and face burn, and you very nearly accept defeat and make your escape when he approaches you from around his desk. 

He stops just before you, staring you in the eye with that same stupid grin on his face. 

“How about we meet outside work, and you can tell me how incredible I am?” He teases, and you just nod idiotically. Captain Ashiro knocks on his office door and enters, saying something about the reports she needed for the latest meeting. You are then dismissed. 

You stop outside his office and lean on the wall, cupping your burning cheeks. 

Did you just agree to a date?

[writella]

Daryl comes home midday and you allow him to distract you from your work and studying with kisses. (cw: daryl x afab!reader, just a little more than suggestive- 18+, mdni- but ends quickly, kisses and sweetness! wc: a little over 1000)

Palms slide on the bed, arms caging your backside as you read; and soon enough, without you even knowing he came through your door, Daryl is there— lips right by your head, whispering in a mixture soft and gruff, the word, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you reply, turning over to look up at him, not hesitating to let your favorite distraction invade all your thoughts. You take in his face in the sun’s high noon glow. From your view, the sun brightens his features, making strands of his brown hair a dark blonde, and his blue eyes become deep ocean wells even through the squint. But to him, the sun is shining down on you, creating an outline of an angel’s glow in the sky.

Well aren’t you two in love?

“Still at it?” He asks, taking note of the book and papers and packets surrounding you before kissing at your jaw and nuzzling into your neck. It was just supposed to be a greeting, obviously you were studying, but then he lingers there for a moment. It feels so nice here, with you, in this room— it’s peaceful; quiet and airy.

Your cottage was dark other than the sunlit window. It felt cooler than any other house in Alexandria. A nice change for his hot skin that had been out working since morning; and of course before that, he was gone for most of the week. Typical, but you’re both used to it. Him, always doing something, always helping. It’s just what happens when you’re the guy everyone goes to when they want it done right. Not to mention he did like to be needed— even if he never showed it— and he preferred the outside more than indoors. The outside did sometimes mean without you though, so any chance to remember exactly how the feeling of your touch felt, he took, like now. Even if he memorized every part of you, the feeling of the pads of your fingers against the hair and veins and scars of his arms and face, nothing was like the real thing. You felt the same, that’s why you instinctively parted your knees when you turned over to face him. How could he help how perfectly he fit in between? It was seamless.

Soon enough you were kissing. It’s soft, but the undertones of fire hearts wanting more were there and fastly growing. Daryl comes closer, elbows placed above your shoulder, your thighs closing in his waist. You grind upwards, and he downwards. He puts a hand on your cheek, your jaw. You touch his own. He kisses you, slips his tongue into your mouth, taking the lead. The small mmms come out then. Everything is perfect, this feeling is so right. Even if he’s sweating. Even if you hate when he dirties the sheets with his muddy, forest worn clothes. When it’s Daryl, it’s hard not to give in. The next moment is always unknown.

You touch the shorter part of his hair at the front, his bangs— he hates when you call them that— and then your fingers slide through the rest, twirling down to the end of his strands. The sweat and humidity from outside has made patterns in them. Your kisses become pecks until you let go. Looking at him tenderly you say, “I like when your hair gets wavy like this.”

He moved his face to the side, your palm meeting his jaw. He nuzzles until you reach his nose, he kissed your hand, then kissed your shoulders, breathing in the tops of your arm, you feel the air, it’s warm; it tickles lightly. “You smell nice,” he finally responds. A compliment as a thank you to yours. Never can take one, can he? He just focuses on you. Right now: your scent. He can’t describe what it is, something that he can only define as pretty; the color pink; flowery— you.

You smile as softly and sweetly as the smell he describes in his head and kiss his lips again, quickly, a peck, then another, kiss, kiss, kiss until your lips mold again. Your tongue enters his mouth this time, sliding against the top and you twist your head, but he overpowers, he can’t help it. Daryl really likes kissing. It’s more than he ever thought he would before he started to love you. There is something about the innocence that comforts him. You can make it passionate, sexual, but you can always bring it back to innocence and puppy love and being like teenagers; things he never got to experience with the purity of it all. It’s nice. A way to show his affection through action; wordless romanticism. He adored it. He thought you deserved it.

Your hands reach for his hair once more, you play with it. Your fingers lace through the nape to the split ends you couldn’t even tell were there. He likes it, it feels soothing. Your other hand is on his neck and you feel the vibrations of his gruff humming. Even if you’re under him, you’re able to make him feel good. You sigh happily and start to roll upward on him again, he’s making you feel good too and you need him. You kiss him quick, returning to the open mouth pecks: kiss, kiss, kiss, and then you linger- two pairs of parted lips locking in on a final moment, it feels enchanted, but then he withdraws.

Your eyes become wide as you look up at him. What will he do next? You want him back.

“Gotta finish your work, sunshine.”

Wait! But— you knew he was right… you were procrastinating, but really you let him, he started it, it’s his fault! So, really? Now? No more? Not even just a little?

Afraid not.

He kisses your shoulder, smelling that pretty flower pinkness one more time. “I’ll be back when you finish.”

You reply with a voice of sad reluctance, “…okay,” you sigh.

You knew better though, working in daylight was for the best. Who else was going to teach these Alexandria kids unless you committed yourself to learning how. “Promise?”

His eyes examine the blooming of your lips. “Y’know I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Usually he’d keep it there, but he did miss you, and he sure did take note of how needy you were getting. He gives in to the pretty pink flower pout. “Promise.”

And with that, his finger slowly moves down your clothed mound until it finds your clit, one press in as he kisses your lips once more and all the heat from below pools. You feel it hotly. It was the quickest touch, as quick as he retracted it, and then he left.

Oh… guess it’s time to finish that reading, you suppose.

[silovsmenot]

You Can't Win Alone | Artūrs Šilovs

SUMMARY: After the EDM/VAN game seven, Artūrs is struggling with his emotions and needs a hug. WARNINGS: Just the depression we're all currently feeling, lots of fluff. PAIRING: Artūrs Šilov & reader. NOTES: I'm sad and got carried away, although it definitely could've been longer. And it's 1000% not edited, I may make edits a little later but this is fuelled by my depression. Under the circumstances, my submission box is reopened for any NHL one-shot/imagine requests... and expect more. WORD COUNT: 1209

You watched every shot with bated breath — hands gripping the sleeves of the crimson jersey. You and Artūrs had only recently become public with everything going on. You'd been together some months, but you knew well, Arty was a private person and these weeks had been a whirlwind since his call up.

There was no playoff jacket for you like the other wives and girlfriends but that didn’t matter, you had his bronze medal jersey. And you wore it with pride.

You held tight upon the sleeves with every shot that he faced in that first period, but he beat every one. You were beaming with pride as they returned to the ice for the second period, watching his masked face rise to try and find you in the crowd, but even in that crimson he’d struggle.

And as the shots started firing at him again, your confidence wavered. Not in him, never in him – but the team around him looked rattled. They weren’t playing like themselves, like the whole rink knew they could.

You exchanged a look of concern with a few of the other ladies, the wives and girlfriends who had immediately taken you in and made you feel welcome. Their faces were etched with equal concern, which hardly put your thoughts to ease.

It happens just as you turned back to the ice. The slapshot from the point with men in front, and your eyes tightly screwed as the quiet cheer of Edmonton fans rippled through the arena, the sighs of Vancouver fans. He couldn’t see you, but with a short breath, you looked back with a tender whisper.

‘You’ve got this, Art.’ 

You watched as his confidence returned with every save. The smile of your own confidence returning as you told yourself it was only one goal. But there was the ring of the post, the arms of Edmonton players thrown up in celebration and the murmurs once more. The team in blue looked more deflated than ever.

But there were flickers of hope, you clung to every one. Your hands hidden beneath the crimson sleeves as you held hands in front of your mouth, silently pleading for a goal for the home team. Just one goal to shift the momentum, but an open back-door on a penalty kill would put the score to 3-0 and you watched Artūrs head dropping that little bit . . . and it hurt to see.

Natalie Miller gave your hand arm a little squeeze, some confidence as the buzzer for the second period blew and all breathed a breath of relief. Surely, the third – they’d come out with confidence and snatch this thing. You hoped so desperately, everyone in that arena and watching on screens did.

And as the team skated out for the third, there looked to be a difference. A fire had been lit and they woke up. They’d come back from this before, they could do it again.

Garland shot and the arena erupted. You were pulled into arms and shouted in relief, cheering till your mouth was dry. This was it – they could do it. And then there was two, Hronek with a slapshot and nobody was in their seats. They were within one, and you could see how it lifted Art’s shoulders.

But as the clock ticked closer and closer to zero, no shots able to find the back of the net, the end was in sight. The buzzer finally sounded on a desperation shot from centre ice, and the Canucks dream of round 3 was over.

You could see the disappointment in Arty from your seat. You didn’t need to see his face clearly to know that he felt the loss, that he’d blame himself for it, at least to some degree. And as hands shook, your heart was breaking to see him so deflated. To see them all so deflated.

It felt like a long walk to the Canucks area beneath the seating, where you’d wait for him with the other wives and girlfriends. Embraces exchanged and plans being made for the summer months – nobody knew yet who would still be there next season, but that was the life of the hockey partner.

You waited in the crowd, sharing a small smile and nod of encouragement to each player who emerged from the changing room and into the arms of his partner. You waited and waited till all had emerged except for your boyfriend and Clarkie … You were just glad that Artūrs was not alone in there.

But even Clarkie would poke his head out eventually, a hand beckoning you inside with a look of concern. You did not hesitate, nor did you need to speak as you entered. As you entered, your eyes couldn’t miss the only remaining body. Still wearing his pads with hands clasped in front of him – his face was red, the ice pack on his head had melted to a bag of cold water, and his eyes were full, you couldn’t tell if he’d been crying or had been fighting the urge ever since … it didn’t matter, it broke you to see him like this.

With a shallow breath, you crossed the room in a rush. Dropping everything you had in your arms, you crouched before him with tender hands intertwining with his. It took him a moment to look at you, meeting your eyes with a sorrowful look like you’d never seen from him. You knew that this would never be easy, but difficult was an understate as you looked at him.

“Talk to me, Art.” You finally whispered after moments of silence, giving his hands a soft squeeze before they were raised to your lips. A soft kiss upon his knuckles, never breaking from his solemn gaze.

“I should’ve done better, we could’ve won.”

Arty whispered, his gaze faltered to look upon your tangled hands. His teeth biting upon his lips in an attempt to stifle any emotion from breaking through his ice-cold demeanour … but you could see right through it.

“Art, you can’t win a game on your own. You kept them in it tonight, just as you did every other night ... the guys just struggled to find the net –” You sighed. Pulling a single hand free, it came to place upon his stubbled cheek where you’d guide his eyes back to you. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Silence crept back in as he simply stared at you, your gaze watching as he battled every emotion that sought to break free. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was feeling, but you were here to remind him that he was never alone.

“Lets get you out of that gear and get you home.” 

Silence broken again, you waited for his nod of agreement before digits began to undo the various buckles and ties of his leg pads. Pulling them free, he leaned forward to pull you into him. It wasn’t a comfortable embrace as you knelt, reaching up with arms around him, but you would stay there for as long as he needed you.

“I love you, and I am so proud of you.” You finally whispered, planting kisses wherever you could without breaking the embrace.

“I love you too, y/n.”

[readychilledwine]

Beauty in Pain Pt 2

Summary - Losing your wings may have been the best thing to ever happen to you

Warnings- mentions of trauma, mentions of therapy, blood, normal happy marriage discussions

A/N - I kept this short and sweet (1000 words) as a kind of like closure moment for those of us who wanted and needed it. ❤️ Also part 2 of the Death of Peace of Mind is still going up tonight. I just didn't want to give you all whiplash since that Eris is so different from drabble Eris 😂

You would never get used to waking up on your back. It was never possible before the incident. You had always slept on your stomach, Azriel's large wing over the top of your smaller ones, your hands and possibly a leg touching. 

Since losing your wings 6 months ago, though, sleeping has changed significantly. It happened one night on a whim, Azriel laying between your legs on his tummy while you played with his hair. Between the warmth and weight of his body on yours, you had fallen asleep after he had. It had become almost nightly now, you falling asleep on your back, basking in the comfort his body weight brought you. 

Azriel shifted above you, sensing you were awake through the bond, and snuggled in tighter. "5 more minutes," sleep laced his deep voice, causing it to be slightly graveled. "Then kisses."

"What if I want kisses now?" Azriel seemed to instantly perk up at the question, his eyes suddenly wide and alert. 

He moved so he was directly above you, a scarred finger coming to trace your cheekbones. "Then who would I be to deny such a beautiful female her morning kisses?" Before he could act on the request, your bedroom door slammed open and a body dived into your bed, shaking it slightly. 

Azriel glared towards your older brother, "What, Cassian?"

You felt Cassian wiggle a hand between you two, finding your waist and pulling you over to him. "You're late for training, she is late for her meeting with Madja." 

Meeting was a polite way to put what you did once a week with the elderly healer. Once a week, you two sat with tea and talked. Sometimes it was about life, sometimes it was about what happened. Sometimes you just listened to her speak about healing, an unexpected career change you recently began going through. 

Azriel buried his head into your shoulder, sighing deeply before getting up and grabbing clothing to change into. Cassian held you close, softly kissing your temple as he dug his body into your bed. "Sorry, Sissy. He's been late the past 5 days."

You didn't have the heart to tell Cassian why. Azriel was ready to settle down to start a family. He wanted late mornings in your bed, and early nights turned in before the sun had fully set. He wanted to know you were safe, no longer a target, and that he'd be with you at all times instead of away for weeks. Azriel was ready to start a family. Cassian had, now the proud dad of a newborn girl. Rhysand had the proud father of a tiny Illyrian male. Azriel was ready for the same joy they had, and you were ready for it, too. 

"Maybe he needs a vacation," you replied. Cassian shrugged. "Or maybe he needed those morning kisses you interrupted."

You two heard Azriel yell in confirmation from the bathroom, and both chuckled. "Madja is waiting for you. I know you don't like these sessions, but they have been good for you."

You stared at him, blinking slowly. "I can't really get out of bed with you here."

"Why?"

"She's naked," Azriel appeared, wearing his training leathers. "Let's go, Cass." Cassian's face flushed before he got out of the bed. "I'll tell her you're on your way." Azriel leaned down, kissing you gently. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Rhys and Madja sat downstairs. They were sipping tea and whispering softly regarding your progress. "She's wonderful with children especially," the old healer said as she added another spoon of sugar into the tea. "They love her and respond to her very well."

Rhysand shifted. "That does not surprise me. Nyx and Emmy both love her. How is she mentally." 

"I'm okay," you moved into the room and sat in the third chair. "No nightmares for the past 3 months." Rhys nodded, reaching for your hand. "Azriel and I talked about starting a family."

They both immediately straightened up, Madja's eyes beginning to sparkle in excitement. "That is a big step, y/n. How do you feel about that?"

You smiled. "We've both always wanted kids. It's just the natural progression at this point. I do not have to work, we technically own the cabin we'd move to outright, we are financially secure."

"But are you ready?" Rhys asked softly. "There's a 100% chance of wings, if it's a girl-"

"She would be loved regardless of what happened to me and protected by her father." You looked firmly at Rhys. "We want this. I want this."

He nodded, rested his forehead against your hand. "Then I want it for both of you as well. Nyx has loved being a big cousin."

Madja trailed back. "Do you not want to work, y/n?" 

You shook your head. "I do until I am pregnant. Once I have a babe, though, I would like to enjoy a stay at home mother role." 

Madja nodded, her smile still firm on her face. "I believe you are healthy enough to have a child. You have my approval as your healer."

Rhys looked towards the door to the training area and sighed. "Cassian is bleeding. They're on their way in." 

Azriel walked in seconds later, a sly smile on his face as he supported Cassian. "Idiot zigged when he should have zagged. Flew straight into a kick." Cassian huffed out a laugh as you moved to allow him to take your spot and went to Azriel's side. 

His arm wrapped around your waist, "You are happy."

You kissed his cheek, smiling as you rested your head on his shoulder. "Happiest I've been in a while."

Azriel leaned into you, whispering into your ear. "Did she approve?" You nodded, feeling his grin grow. "And Rhys?" You nodded again. "Then we should start trying. Now."

"Now?" You looked at him, eyes wide.

"Now," he confirmed before pulling you up the stairs, the two of you laughing with each step. 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Honestly, I'm thinking about what if sukuna's s/o(in his og era and when he's still human) died and they vowed that they meet again in another life and they will love him again

MANY many many many years later, itadori become sukuna's vessel and sukuna met his dead s/o who's reincarnated. They have exact voice, face, attitude and everything. The only thing that changed is their last name and THEY HAVE WEDDING RING AND THEY'RE MARRED TO SATORU

And worst of all, sukuna is still inlove with his s/o and LIVID

Jsdijscusncjsnfjdnfieixjeifndfjjeks😭😭😭😭

When I tell you I had to run home and write this IMMEDIATELY I mean it. What a absolutely amazing idea for a fic, there you go! Please let me know what you think<3

PS: I changed it up just the tiniest bit because it fitted better in the story I had in mind, hope you still like it though

Promises you can't keep

Pairing: former!reader x Sukuna; reader x husband!Gojo Word Count: 2,5k Synopsis: When Sukuna realizes that you did not only break your oath to wait until he returns back to you but married Gojo Satoru after 1000 years of him waiting for you, he goes insane. Warnings: pretty rough language, heavy hurt on Sukuna's side

„Ryomen“, you breathe out, whole body shivering in nothing but grief.

A thick veil of rain and teardrops pours down on the lifeless body of your lover without any mercy. How did this happen? Who on earth would be able to defeat the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of all times?  You always thought that this would last forever, that nobody is able to take this blessing away from you. But there he lays, covered entirely in his own blood while you clearly feel that his strength is leaving him with every passing second.

“You need to look at me, (y/n).”

He had so many enemies, countless people who wanted to defeat him. But no one could ever hold a candle to him – no one until now.

“(y/n). Look at me”, he gasps again urgently.

His hand gently caresses your cheek, a grin plastered on his face. You want to bury yourself against his body, close your eyes and pretend that none of this is actually happening, that your lover isn’t dying in front of you. But you know that look on his face all too well – the stare of death. After all, you took enough lives with your own hands to know how this feels.

“You have to promise me something.”

“I’ll promise you everything”, you cry out, holding onto his hand for dear life while the pounding rain seems to soak through your bones.

This is all too much to bear. You want nothing more than stabbing yourself and lie beside him, waiting for death to finally wash over you. But you know he wouldn’t allow that, that he has other plans.

“I taught you how to use cursed technique, use it. And when you do, we’ll meet again, you hear? No matter in which live, I will find you. Promise me that you’ll wait for me.”

“Of course I will. O-of curse I will wait for you”, you mutter.

“This isn’t enough. I need more assurance. Show me that you mean it”, he demands.

Without thinking twice, you use your powers to cut a gaping wound into your very own forearm, running blood mixing with the rain in an instant.

“I swear I will find you in another life and that I’ll love you until that! I insist by my blood, by a blood oath!”

He smiles while you can sense that life slowly begins to leave his weak frame.

“That’s what I wanted to hear…Don’t break your promise, (y/n)”, he mutters, lids so heavy that he’s barely able to keep his eyes open.

“I would never do that”, you reply, determination filling you gaze.

You will do what he told you. You’ll turn yourself into a cursed spirit and live on until you finally meet again.

Until you are finally able to hold Ryomen Sukuna in your arms again.

“Fuck”, you mumble to yourself, scratching your head while you desperately fight against the pictures of Sukuna that occupy your mind.

Even after more than 1000 years, it seems like this man put a spell on you, haunting you even in your dreams. Well, given the fact that your husband just found out one of Sukuna’s fingers disappeared, the wave of your past seems to catch up with you faster than you thought.

Your phone buzzes violently on your nightstand, making you sign in frustration. Who the hell is this? What could be important enough to contact you when you definitely have more urgent problems at the moment?

“I’m busy sleeping”, you mumble into your phone.

“Gojo-san, you need to come here immediately…I found the cursed object”, Megumi’s unusual bothered voice explains briefly.

“Where’s Satoru? I thought he’s around that area too”, you mutter.

“He’s buying sweets at the moment. Can you please just come here? I wouldn’t call you if it’s not urgent.”

You know that Megumi’s right, that he’d never call you if not necessary. But why on earth is your husband out there buying sweets when this is actually his mission?

“Sure. Give me 5 minutes.”

To be honest, it doesn’t really sit right with you to get in contact with Sukuna again, even if it’s only one of his fingers. But he has to be naïve if he thinks you waited for him, right? After all, he was gone for more than 1000 years, swallowed by earth without any sign. When Satoru Gojo came into your world a few years ago, he showed you what life really is about and even accepted the fact that you are half curse half human, protecting you from the elders with every beat of his heart. Yes, you love this man with all your heart. So much that you gave up the idea of getting back together with Sukuna and started a new life with your now husband.

None of this matters, though. Sukuna is sealed, forever trapped in 20 of his fingers. Even if he’s not over you, he won’t have a chance to confront you anyway.

With a swift motion, you get into your car and drive to the location Megumi has sent you earlier. Everything will work out just fine, like always

______________________________________________________________

“Sorry for keeping you waiting Megumi-chan, got stuck in traffic. Oh, who’s your friend?”, you question while eyeing the pink-haired boy in front of you up and down.

“And why on earth is he half naked?”

Meanwhile, Sukuna laughs to himself inside Yuji hysterically. Finally. Finally he found another vessel. Finally he’s able to search for you again. Oh, how much he missed to hold you in his arms, to hear your sweet voice. How have you been? Did you wait for him like you promised? Of course you did. After all, you told him over and over how much you lo-

“Something really bad happened, Gojo-san”, the black-haired boy that caught Sukuna’s attention earlier speaks out while scratching his head.

Sukuna needs to take a closer look. Who is this woman? She surely is attractive, looking almost like…

“Come on Megumi-chan, stop being so shy and call me (y/n) already.”

You. His heart drops, gaze hungrily soaking up your striking sight. Oh, you didn’t change at all, looking exactly like he remembers you with your wry grin and delicious curves. He waited for this exact moment more than a thousand years.

Finally.

Finally he’ll be able to hold you in his arms again, to rule the world with you by his side like the both of you always imagined. Can this day get any better?

“I prefer Gojo-san, though. After all you’re married to Gojo-sensei.”

…

What was that? Married? And that name…He heard it before. It belongs to the current strongest jujutsu sorcerer.

His stomach turns. This can’t be true, it has to be a misunderstanding. Back then, you made it very clear that you’ll wait for him no matter what happens, he showed you how to reincarnate yourself, he is the one responsible for you still walking on this earth.

You…You wouldn’t betray him like that, right?

“Anyway. What is so bad that you had to call me? And where’s the cursed object?”

“I ate it”, Yuji explains briefly.

Time stands still as you can only stare in disbelief at the boy in front of you, too stunned to speak. Fuck, this is bad. This is very very bad. Not only because that poor teen will probably die, but because it means that he’s reincarnated. Sukuna is back walking on this earth, free to do whatever he pleases. And you know well enough that this could be the end of everything.

“He ate it?”, you repeat with low voice.

Your heart seems to stop beating, your usual so confident smile fades away in the wind.

“Yup”, both boys confirm your worst nightmares.

You need to take a step back, to get a hold on yourself while your finger plays with your wedding ring. This is bad, this means trouble, this is the worst thing that could have possibly happen.

“Gojo-san, are you okay?”, Megumi asks, voice filled with concern.

It’s like you’ve forgot how to breathe, your lungs refusing their service. The eyes of that boy, that orbs that are filled with nothing but innocence and kindness. If you look close enough, you can tell that he’s inside him.

“Get that moron here right now”, you hiss, turning around to face Megumi so fast that your head begins to spins.

Fuck, what are you supposed to do? There are exactly two options:

1. Ryomen forgot about you anyway and will continue his cruel plans

2. He does in fact remember your promise very well and still has feelings for you.

While option one is pretty bad already, you are almost certain that option two is equal to the end of the world. Ryomen is fucking cold-hearted, sadistic and selfish. The only time he ever opened up in his entire life was for you. Oh, you just knew how to make him soft, how to make a thoughtful lover out of a man that wanted to burn the entire world down.

“Long time no see, (y/n).”

You feel like fainting, mouth dry like the desert. It’s his voice. And god, it sounds as horrible and unpromising as 1000 years ago.

“You look younger than I expected”, you comment dryly while turning around.

The worst thing you could do right now is showing him your weakness. You know this man all too well to be aware of the fact that he’ll use everything against you he can grasp.

“And you look like a cheating whore.”

His voice makes the blood freeze in your veins in an instant. He isn’t just mad. No, he’s absolutely furious.

“Ouch, that are some rough words to say.”

Before you have time to even comprehend what’s happening, he grabs your wrists and forces you to look at him, tight grip making your skin burst.

When you look into his eyes, you can see nothing but hatred and disgust in them – a mixture that makes your guts turn.

“Is this a wedding ring on your finger, (y/n)?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“You were gone for over 1000 years. How long did you expect me to wait for you?”

Your voice isn’t more than a fade whisper, completely swallowed by the threatening way he stands in front of you.

“You swore. You fucking swore.”

“I moved on. I found a man who truly loves me and I love him with all my heart, without any fear or pursuit of power. He accepts me the way I am, he fights for me-“

“And I didn’t do that?”, he yells so hostile that you flinch.

“He showed me that I don’t have to subjugate people. The jujutsu sorcerers at Jujutsu High accept me the way I am, I would even say they like me. And admiration is so much better than submission. I changed my view of the world and this view doesn’t match your fucked up one at all.”

Sukuna can’t believe it. All these fucking years, he waited for you patiently. You were the only thing that occupied his mind, the empire you could have built together. Are you really giving that up because of a random man that put a ring on your finger? Are you giving this life of luxury and nonchalance up for some brats? This doesn’t sound like you at all.

“The (y/n) I knew gave nothing about all of these things”, he spits atyou.

“The (y/n) you knew died a long time ago”, you reply.

He hates the way his heart burns in agony because of your words and how he feels like falling apart. He is the king of curses, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of all times. You should be happy that he chose you to stay by his side, to support him while he reaches his goals. Why on earth do you choose a miserable life like this over him?

It doesn’t matter.

“Then you are my enemy and I’ll kill you.”

“Here I am everybody! Look what I’ve bought!”

There has probably never been a moment in your life when you were so happy to hear the voice of your husband.

“That boy eat the finger, Satoru”, you explain briefly without breaking eye contact with your former lover.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So you’re Sukuna, huh?”, Gojo mutters besides you.

Something inside Sukuna snaps. Instinctively, he lunges himself at Gojo, over and over trying to punch into his pretty face. Is this really the man you chose over him, the man you decided to marry despite the promise you’ve made?

“You have something that belongs me”, Sukuna states, pure hatred dripping from his voice.

“I know you want my woman back because she had a thing with you a thousand years ago. But I need to disappoint you: she’s mine now”, Gojo replies with a cheeky grin.

All the countless nights you spent together, the humans you killed on each other’s side, the empire the two of you built back then in your era. And this is your replacement? He can’t help but feel…

Grief. Fuck, even if he’d never admit it out loudly, you were the only thing besides his powers that Sukuna really valued, maybe even loved. He shouldn’t care about things like this, about your new lover. But he’s absolutely livid, the thought of this man touching the body that belongs to him making him see nothing but red.

Over and over, he tries to beat Gojo Satoru, to show him that he is not to be trifled with. But even though that annoying brat acts as his vessel now, there are still 19 parts of him missing. To beat this man, he’ll definitely need more than one part of his soul.

“C’mon, get back on track boy, don’t let this old fart take over your body”, Satoru speaks to Yuji.

Slowly but surely, Sukuna feels the control slipping through his fingers. No, he isn’t done yet, he has to kill the man that proclaimed you, he has to force you to stay with him at any cost. He waited to damn long for this moment, he can’t lose control now-

“Man, that is really annoying”, Yuji speaks out with his usual voice.

You can tell immediately that he’s gone, almost falling backwards in relief. That was a damn close call. If Satoru wouldn’t have made it one time, who knows what would have happened.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”, Satoru asks softly, hand placed on your back in order to support your trembling body.

“Yeah. Just a little surprised to see my ex after 1000 years I guess”, you breathe out.

All Sukuna is able to do is sit down and watch as this fucker wraps his arms around you and places a small kiss on your forehead, asking you over and over if you’re okay and what happened.

This is unacceptable. You are his and his alone. He will not allow another man to touch you, let alone marry you.

He leans back in his chair and lets himself close his eyes for a brief moment. No, Sukuna won’t allow you to be happy. Even if it’s the last thing he’ll do, he’ll kill Satoru Gojo as soon as an opportunity presents itself.

“I’m coming for you, (y/n).”

[cinnbar-bun]

The Chain I

Relationship: Johnny Joestar x GN!Reader, minor Diego Brando x GN!Reader

Prompt: "Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies / Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light."

Summary: You've known each other for so long, ever since you were kids. But after he's become so unrecognizable, you have to wonder if being chained to him is worth it anymore.

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~3.5k

Notes: Childhood friends to haters to lovers later, no spoilers for part 7, BUT mentions of death/spoilers of Johnny's backstory. Slight love triangle for this chapter, Johnny being a major douche, angry fight at the end, minor swearing. This chapter takes place pre-part 7.

Taglist (message me or fill out the form in the pinned to be added!): @gingernut1314 @adeadcreator @starr-l1ghtt

Read on my AO3 here!

A/n: I got nothing to say besties I love causing Johnny pain!!!!

“Nicholas, Johnny, remember that I have a guest coming over today. Can I ask that both of you remain on your best behavior?” George said sternly, a subtle warning that if the two acted up, there would be consequences to pay for it. The two boys agreed, back straight as they awaited the ‘guest’.

George exhaled and uncrossed his arms. “You two will not need to be in the study when they come by. My friend has a young child, around your age, Johnny. I expect that you two will treat them properly.” 

George didn’t wait for a response, walking away to prepare himself. Nicholas and Johnny glanced at each other, wide, eager smiles on their face as they thought about who they’d see. 

When the ‘guests’ finally arrived, Johnny momentarily forgot his manners, ignoring the man and instead glancing for the child George talked about. When his blue eyes landed on yours, something within him stirred, as if he was magnetized to you. 

He ran to you, grabbing your hands in his, and gave a toothy grin. “I’m Johnny! What’s your name?” 

Johnny could never explain why he was so drawn to you. You, likewise, never stood a chance against a fate when it came to Johnny. You two were practically attached at the hip, almost never seen without the other. 

Johnny (but mostly Nicholas) was the one who taught you how to secretly ride a horse whenever you visited the estate. You taught Johnny different plants he should avoid and what was edible after he had a mishap with poison ivy. Johnny liked getting lost in the forest with you. You liked staying up at night and pointing out different constellations with him from your book. 

“That’s a shooting star!” Johnny yelled, shooting upright and pressing his finger against the glass window. 

“What? Really?” You squinted. 

“Yeah, but you missed it, slowpoke,” he rolled his eyes as he flicked your forehead. 

“I’m not slow…” 

“And yet you’re always last when it comes to racing,” Johnny smugly pronounced. “What are we at? 1000 - 0?” 

“Ugh, you’re a jerk,” you huffed. “Now, you saw a shooting star. You gotta make a wish.” 

“Oh, right,” he said as he turned around to the face the night sky. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and clasped his hands together. “Okay, did it. I wished we’d be friends forever.” 

“Johnny!” You shouted. “You can’t tell me that, now it won’t come true!” 

“Don’t tell me you believe that old thing,” he snorted. “Come on, you know it’s not true.” 

“But what if it is? Now we might not be friends.” 

Johnny glanced back at you and sighed before he took his seat back on his bed next to you. “Nah. I know we will be friends forever. Even my dad thinks you’re part of the family now.”

“But how do we really know?” You asked anxiously. Johnny tapped his chin and shrugged. 

“Guess we don’t. But I’m not gonna believe a dumb superstition. We’re a team, right?” He insisted, putting his pinkie out to you. You felt yourself ease up at his confidence and wrapped your pinkie around his. 

“Yeah, a team.” He smiled proudly at your words. 

He had no reason in his mind to think of anything else. The four years you two had known each other had to have solidified your bond for life. His luck may have been strange, but you were a constant in his life. That wasn’t changing anytime soon.

You both should have known it was the beginning of end. At the age of 9, you and Johnny stood by Nicholas’s coffin. Johnny had clung to you, sobbing that it was all his fault, that he was the reason Nicholas died. If only he had just drowned Danny like George asked, if only he just listened, then Nicholas would still be there. 

He was fundamentally changed by Nicholas’s death. Why wouldn’t he be? That was his dear brother. You had grown to see Nicholas as an older brother as well, the type of good-natured sibling who made sure you and Johnny were happy. But Johnny was not Nicholas. 

You knew that. Johnny knew that. Most of all, George knew that. 

But Johnny kept continuing to go back on his horse, insisting he was fine, demanding you stop asking how he was. He was good. He would race. He would make George proud. He would honor Nicholas through his racing.

Johnny devoted so much time to racing, as if his life depended on it. Perhaps it did, in his mind, but you were still there, watching. You would read quietly by the small bench as Johnny lectured his horse for not jumping as high over the hurdle today. You would do your schoolwork while Johnny timed himself again and again, practicing lap after lap. Sometimes, Diego Brando would come to you and start a conversation with you. 

Johnny wouldn’t pay attention, too busy fixing the reins of his horse to care. And you, who really didn’t have much else besides him, hated seeing your best friend so hurt. So you would wait, as usual. 

“Do you think I’ll be able to make my dad proud?” Johnny mulls one evening as you both drink on the hill you two frequented as kids.

“I think you will,” you begin. “I think he’s proud of you now.” 

“That’s a damn lie and you know it.” 

You pursed your lips and took another sip. “I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah. So am I.” 

It only seemed to get worse from there. Johnny would make time for you infrequently, still trying to keep up the idea of you being his ‘best friend’ to those around him. You didn’t know which you’d rather deal with at this point; his total silence towards you while hordes of girls and celebrities flocked to him, or his half-hearted attempt at clinging to the friendship you two had. Both killed you inside, and despite knowing deep down that you should cut your losses, you still stuck around. 

You stuck around when he asked for you to cover for him while he was out drinking with some friends. You stuck around when he made you do the group project by yourself because some rich governor wanted to meet him later. You stuck around when he didn’t say a word as a ‘friend’ of his made fun of you for being so clingy towards Johnny like a lost puppy. 

You knew you shouldn’t have stuck around for that. You knew you deserved better. 

But that stupid, stupid part of you that yearned for Johnny to just treat you like he did before always won out over logic. That ridiculous voice inside you said that being hurt by Johnny was better than no Johnny at all. Because Johnny was your best friend, your first friend. 

Johnny was a lot of your firsts, in fact. He was not only your first friend, but the one who first taught you to ride a horse, the one you first slept over with, the one you did your first trip with, and your first kiss when you two tried to copy what you saw a couple do as kids. Scarily enough, he was not only those things, but he was also your first love. You stupidly fell in love with your childhood best friend. Like a damn cliche, you fell for him, never recognizing that the warmth you felt for him went just beyond friends. 

But it was too late to even confess this, as he had already was on his third girlfriend of the month, never sparing you a glance beyond a ‘thanks’ for doing his work. You would be foolish enough to try, but naive you that wished for everything under the sun for just a chance with Johnny still stayed. Maybe one day he’d wake up and recognize the people that encircled him after his race didn’t care. Maybe one day he’d notice that you were still there, cheering him on for his races, even as he came in second almost every time. Maybe, maybe, maybe, that foolish wish he made under the star would come true and you’d stay friends forever. 

Like always, you sat on the bench by the training grounds of the estate, reading for the upcoming test you would have soon, that Johnny would likely want you to summarize for him and his buddies. You heard footsteps approaching, but didn’t stop reading. 

“Johnny, what do you-” 

“Me? Johnny? Please. I thought you’d know better than that by now to compare me to him,” a smug voice reproached you. You looked up in confusion before noticing the cocky stature of none other than Diego Brando. 

“Oh… Diego. Do you want me to leave?” You asked, beginning to pack up your things. Diego only ever made casual conversation with you after all these years, so you had no clue why he was walking up to you so suddenly. 

“Hm, no. I just couldn’t help but notice that Joestar boy left you alone again.” 

You rolled your eyes as Diego taunted you. “If that’s all you came here to tell me, you can leave. I don’t need to hear that from you.” 

“So sensitive. You’re beginning to resemble a cornered dog.” 

“Diego, enough. Seriously. Just leave me alone if you have nothing nice to say,” you glared. 

“If that’s what you wish. I was going to offer you a chance to go for a ride with me, but if I am so horrible that you don’t even wish to talk to me, then I’ll be on my merry way. Goodbye, maybe that Joestar will throw you a bone one day,” Diego sneered as he turned around and waved his hand. 

“Huh? Wait!” You shot up and followed after him. “Why are you offering that to me?” 

“Must I explain it to you?” “I would like you to.” 

“Hah. No,” he deadpanned. “And look at you, already following after me. It seems you can’t help but listen to those more powerful than you.” 

“I’m not doing it because-” 

“I don’t really care,” Diego replied, throwing on the saddle for his horse and fitting it properly. “Would you like to come, or not?” 

Johnny despised Diego more than anything. He’d be furious if he knew you were even talking to him. Diego sensed your hesitation, sighing dramatically and extending his hand to you. “If you want to go waiting around like a lost sheep for that boy, by all means, go ahead. I’m offering you a horseback ride, not a marriage proposal.” 

Within an instant, you threw your reservations away and gripped his hand, letting him help you onto the saddle. He was right. Johnny was busy elsewhere and this was just a simple ride around the estate. Why should you care what Johnny thought now? 

Diego snorted in amusement as your brows furrowed, but didn’t make another comment, instead, snapping the reins of the horse against it, causing the horse to begin galloping. 

For the first time in a while, you had an enjoyable evening. You simply basked in the wind as Diego expertly maneuvered the horse around. It didn’t take much before you two began talking to each other, pleasantly surprised by how Diego was talking to you when Johnny was not around. It was like seeing a whole new side to the genius jockey that he rarely ever showed before. 

Soon, though, he took the horse back to the stable and promptly helped you off. You were about to collect your bearings and go when he spoke once more to you as he was rummaging through a box of supplies for tending to his horse. 

“You should really stand up for yourself for once.” 

“Huh?” 

“You heard me. Are you really going to let that boy trample you all over every day? Come on. It’s pathetic to witness. Even I felt bad seeing you like that,” he replied in an even tone. While his words were harsh, it lacked his usual mocking tone. 

“I don’t need your pity, Diego,” you stiffened, knowing he had a point. 

“I know you don’t need it. What you really need is a spine. Too bad all the money in the world can’t afford you that,” he commented. “Oh well. It’s not my place. But if you get tired of being that boy’s little mule, you can come to me. I’d be happy to have you as a cheerleader for me.” 

He looked you in the eyes this time. Instead of a haughty, egotistical smirk, it was a frank smile. You were taken aback by his casual friendliness and nodded. 

“Thank you. And thank you again for the ride. I needed it.” 

“Hmph. Don’t go around telling others that, though. Lord knows I don’t need more tabloids on my ass over this.” 

“I won’t. It’ll be our secret,” you said as you began to walk back to your original spot at the bench with a more relaxed stance. For once, there wasn’t a heavy pit in your stomach that threatened to consume you, but a gentle warmth that slowly blossomed there. 

That warmth didn’t last long when a few days after, Johnny and Diego were set to compete in another race. Of course you were going, that was always a given, and like always, Johnny gave you a ticket to let you in. Even if he was never around much, he left you the tickets in your bag, almost as if it was just expected of you. Perhaps it was, at this rate. You’ve been doing this for almost five years now. 

You sat in the bleachers next to a few other familiar faces- mostly the elite who came to socialize or discuss some business and gamble, or younger people who came to try and entice the racers into giving them more attention. You were to offer moral support and comfort Johnny when he’d get frustrated for being silver. 

It was a while before Johnny was set to race, but when he did, the crowd whispered in hushed tones if he would finally surpass Diego today. Some had bet on him, while others kept to their trusty pick of Diego. The gunshot went off, and the horses sprinted. It was close. So, so close. Johnny was more determined than ever to win this race, and it showed in the near sliver of space between him and Diego. 

Come on, Johnny, come on!

You held your breath, but as it was for so long, close was not close enough. Diego had won, but only by a measly half a second. Your heart dropped as Johnny grimaced and hurried his horse back to the stable. Silver was not good enough. Silver would never make George look at him. Not while Diego was winning race after race, surrounded in heaps of gold. 

You stood up to go meet with Johnny, hurriedly wanting to comfort him and offer more words of encouragement that would probably amount to nothing. Because nothing was enough, not until he won. Just as you were in the stables and looking for Johnny, someone clearing their throat beside you caught your attention. You turned around and saw Diego, that smug look on his face again as he held a gold trophy. 

“Not even a congratulations?” He joked. 

“Oh, sorry. Congrats, Diego. You did wonderful out there, today,” you complimented him. Even if Johnny was your friend, Diego was clearly a special prodigy at horseriding. It was no wonder he was called the ‘genius jockey’ all throughout America and Europe. You were about to continue when he grabbed your wrist. 

“That eager to see Joestar? I’m sure he can wait. I wanted to ask you something,” Diego began. 

“Hm? Go ahead.” 

“They’re organizing a party for my win soon. Tomorrow night, actually. I’m allowed one guest. Perhaps you’re interested in ditching Joestar for the evening and coming with me?” You gasped and felt your face heat up. 

“Diego, I-” 

“Are you kidding me?!” A voice yelled. You jumped at the tone but knew instantly who it was. Diego snorted and placed a hand on his hips. 

“Well now. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something, Joestar?” Diego snapped. 

“Back the hell off, Brando, I don’t wanna deal with your shit right now,” Johnny venomously spouted. He stomped over and stood between you and Diego. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Huh?” 

“What? Johnny, what are you talking about?” You replied, confused at why he was suddenly aiming his vitriol at you. 

“You know damn well what I’m talking about! I invited you here, and now you’re planning trysts with this asshole?” 

“I didn’t even-” 

“What kind of friend are you?! You know how much I hate him! Why are you going to see him behind my back?” 

Your blood began boiling at all these accusations. You clenched your fists and jaw, trying to control yourself. “I didn’t do anything behind your back. Diego just asked me a question.” 

“Please, Diego never justs ‘asks’ questions. And don’t lie to me. I saw what you two did the other day!” 

“So what? It was just a little ride! It’s not like we did anything!” 

“So you admit you’ve been seeing him!” Johnny pointed a finger at you. Diego made his presence known again and stepped closer. 

“What, jealous, Joestar? That your ‘best friend’ finally opened their eyes and prefers me over your lousy company?” 

“Yeah, right. I don’t give a crap about you, Brando!” Diego didn’t respond, instead spitting at the floor near Johnny’s decaying shoes. 

“You talk big for second place. A second-rate jockey like you should know better than to try and insult me after that piss-poor performance you gave today.” 

“You damn-” Johnny nearly launched at Diego before you held him back. “What the hell? Let go of me!” 

“Johnny, seriously? You can’t go attacking people!” You lectured. 

“Why the hell are you defending him? Huh? You like him that much?” 

“It’s not about liking, Johnny, it’s just-” 

“Just what? Think you can suddenly do better than me? You ain’t that special!” Johnny screamed at the top of his lungs. Time froze as you saw Johnny’s eyes widen in horror at what he just told. Even Diego was taken aback for a moment before you let go of Johnny and swiftly smacked him across the face. 

“Screw you! You’re horrible!” You trembled, the years of anger and humiliation now getting to you. Johnny held his cheek with his hand as you unleashed everything you felt inside. “How can you tell me I’m a bad friend when you never acted like a friend in years?! How can you get mad at me when I wait around for you, when I embarrass myself daily thinking one day you’ll treat me like an actual person and not a damn dog?!” 

“I didn’t mean to-” 

“I don’t wanna hear it from you, Johnny! I should’ve done this earlier! I should’ve stopped hanging around and wishing for you to grow up! Because you never will! You’re an even bigger asshole than anyone else I’ve ever met! All you do is think you’re hot shit, when really, you’re just an insecure little brat!” 

Johnny’s face furrowed as his ego felt more bruised than before. “Really? If you think I’m such an asshole, then why don’t you just go?” 

“I will! I don’t wanna see you ever again!” 

“Oh yeah? See if you’ll get anywhere without me being the one to prop your name up! See if you’ll be anyone if I didn’t give you some attention!” 

“I hate you, Johnny! I wish we never even met!” Your voice echoed in the stables. Johnny’s hands shook in anger as he gripped the second place trophy tight. You were breathing raggedly, but all Johnny could see was Diego smirking at him, as if taunting him. Rubbing it in his face that he caused this, that your frustration was all his doing. 

In a fit of rage and guilt, Johnny flung the trophy at Diego, only barely missing the English jockey. He didn’t bother to stay in the stables any longer, instead walking away from you for good. 

“Yeah, well, have fun with him then. Go suck up to him as much as you can, because when I win, I’m not gonna let you come back,” Johnny bitterly stated, ripping off the gold pin you got him so many years ago as a good luck charm and tossing it to the dirt. 

“I’d never want you back anyways,” you spat, solidifying ten years of friendship coming to an end, never to be seen as anything more than a bad memory.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 2 - Doctor

@jegulus-microfic July 2, Word count 1000

Regulus had always dreamed about being a doctor. His parents had mostly approved. They would have preferred he’d chosen to be a solicitor or an accountant, but they decided that doctor was also a respectable profession as long as he went into the correct area. Such as plastics, where all the money was. They had a friend who ran the plastics department at St Thomas’s in London and they arranged for him to train under him once Regulus finished medical school. 

But Regulus had other plans. He secretly sent out feelers to other hospitals and got offered a job in York. It was the one that he’d secretly hoped for. Sirius had moved up to York after he’d fled their family home. He’d gone to university there and fallen in love with the kindest man Regulus had ever met. Of course, his parents didn’t know that he knew any of this. 

He’d had all his correspondence sent to Sirius’s house and he’d go out on daily walks to phone his brother on a separate phone Sirius had sent him and paid for so they could talk without their parents finding out. 

Graduation day came. He was top of his class and a highly sought-after new doctor. He had his picture taken, said goodbye to his classmates and made a run for it. He left his parents complaining about the pitiful excuse for food that had been laid out for them and ran to Sirius’s waiting car. 

“Hey, Reggie!” Sirius’s smile was full of love and Regulus couldn’t help himself. He flung himself across the gear stick and hugged his brother as tightly as he could. “I’ve missed you too,” Sirius spoke quietly into his ear. 

They rushed back to his parent’s house and hurriedly carted the few boxes of his belongings down the three flights of stairs and out to Sirius’s car. Soon they were on the M1 and on their way north. 

He hadn’t just left his parents with no idea where he’d gone. He’d told them he had found another job and was sorry he left like he did, but he had no interest in learning how to pull back wrinkly old skin, so people could kid themselves that they looked younger than they were. He thanked them for everything they’d done for him and hoped that they would still want him in their lives. 

Remus was waiting for them at the front door. He flung his arms open and gave Regulus a firm, warm hug. 

“I’m so glad you made it, Reggie,” He said as he ruffled Regulus’s hair. They’d become good friends over the years since he and Sirius had met, even before they’d started dating. Sirius would drunk dial him and Regulus would spend most of the night chatting with Remus while Sirius did keg stands and made a show of himself. 

“Can we take you on a tour tomorrow? You can get to know the city before you start your first shift.” Sirius asked over dinner. Sirius had braved the locals to go to the chippy round the corner. It was excellent, the best fish and chips he’d ever had. 

Regulus went to sleep that night, finally feeling free for the first time in his life. He took Sirius up on his offer to see the small city. They ate breakfast and hopped on a bus into the city centre. Sirius took him to see the giant cathedral towering over the other buildings. Then through the Shambles, an ancient medieval street. The narrow street was jam-packed with shops and shoppers. The top levels of the buildings overhanging the street below. They took a walk along the bar walls that wrapped around the entire city, protecting it from enemy armies. Sirius took him on a river cruise down the Ouse and then into the Dungeons to learn about Dick Turpin. 

“Stand and deliver, your money or your life!” Sirius had yelled at him as he jabbed him in the back with a fake sword he’d gotten from the gift shop. 

“Turpin would have used pistols, not a sword,” Regulus pointed out. Sirius shrugged and poked him again. They walked down by the river to get home. His feet hurt but it had been worth it. The city was beautiful and he’d spent more time with his brother than he had for years. Tomorrow he’d start at the hospital and he needed to be wide awake to be on his game. 

Sirius dropped him off at the door, kissed his cheek and handed him a packed lunch. 

“Look at our boy Remus, all grown up and off to be a doctor.” Sirius pretended to wipe a tear from his eyes. 

“There, there dear. He’s a big boy now, we have to let him go,” Remus made his voice deep but struggled by the end, as he couldn’t help laughing. 

“Yeah, yeah, love you too. C'ya later.” He blew them a kiss anyway and walked through the doors. 

The resident in charge of them was the most handsome man Regulus had ever seen. He had to take a few deep breaths to calm his speeding heart. He felt suddenly very warm and could feel himself beginning to sweat. 

“Dr Black?” Dr James Potter looked up from his list. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Sirius Black would you?” 

“Yes, he’s my brother, Dr Potter,” Regulus replied in as even a voice as he could. 

“He’s one of my best friends, I’ll be sure to let him know how you’re getting on,” Dr Potter winked at him. Regulus felt lightheaded. Oh, great, now he not only fancied his mentor but the guy just happened to be Sirius’s friend. He should have known better than to move in with his brother. Well, he was going to prove he deserved to be here. 

Dr Potter looked at him, his eyes glimmering with something.

“Well, this is going to be fun,” James grinned widely before they began the morning rounds. 

[fredwkong]

1000: Banana

As the clock strikes midnight, Eric grabs the banana card, letting the other two cards drop. As they fall, they dissolve into dust, creating a small pile of ashes on the floor. Meanwhile, the banana card starts to glow in Eric’s hand. It becomes searing hot, and Eric shields his eyes, cursing. Then, in a flash, it too vanishes.

Blinking his eyes against the afterimages, Eric looks around his room. The box of cards has sealed itself once more. Nothing else seems out of the ordinary, though Eric finds himself feeling a bit warm. He rubs his fingers where they were scorched by the card. They’re still tingling.

Eric drifts through his nighttime routine, washing his face and brushing his teeth in a daze. Could it all have been a trick? No, it’s far too convincing. Eric looks at his pale, scared face in the cracked mirror. “Magic is real,” he tells himself, his voice shaking.

Getting into bed, Eric is sure he’ll be tossing and turning all night, but sudden exhaustion takes him, and he drifts off without any trouble at all.

The next morning, Eric wakes up feeling horny. It’s not such an unusual feeling for him, as a normal 18-year-old boy, but Eric finds himself palming himself through his loose boxers with unusual intensity. His dick seems especially needy for attention.

Needy. The word bounces around in Eric’s head as he strokes himself to full hardness. Yeah, he’s got a needy cock. It’s not just that he has a normal libido, his cock has needs. It needs his hand on it. It needs to thrust, rut, and cum. Eric rolls over onto his belly and starts thrusting into his hand. In seconds, he cums with a groan, leaving a few drops of pearly semen on his sheets. He’s always had pretty light loads.

It’s a pretty uneventful Sunday. It’s warm, so Eric reasons he may as well not get dressed. He sits around in his dorm, playing some video games. He needs to go grocery shopping, but he figures that he can just go tomorrow. After last night, he needs a break.

Throughout the day, Eric feels a slowly growing awareness of his dick. Usually, it’s not much of a problem for him. He’s never been the kind of guy who has to masturbate more than a few times a week. He’s never even managed to get close enough to someone to know if he’s more of a top or a bottom. Sex has simply not been much of a concern when he isn’t even out to anyone.

But suddenly, his dick is grabbing his attention. It just seems to… rub against him, somehow. The fabric of his boxers is stimulating it. How strange.

At the next save point, Eric sticks his hand into his undies. He probably just has to adjust himself. As soon as he touches himself, he groans, loud. His cock feels so good. But he really wants to beat this next boss. He tucks his hardening cock down into the leg of his boxers and withdraws his hand with one last lingering touch of the head. As he does, he feels a slick wetness on his fingers. Did he cum again? No, the liquid is clear.

On impulse, Eric sniffs his hand. The smell is rich, tangy, a little bit bitter. Back in his sex ed, he remembers reading about precum. He’s never produced enough to notice before.

Except for his strangely insistent dick, Eric’s evening goes pretty normally. He finishes up his game and gets ready for bed. As he lies down, he can’t resist fishing his cock out. He rolls over onto his belly and thrusts into his hand once again. There’s a strange smoothness to the motion of his hand up and down his length now, like he has some extra skin. Eric’s about to pull himself up and look when his orgasm suddenly hits him. Without even getting up to wipe off his sheets, Eric falls asleep on top of the dribble of slick cum.

Monday morning is much the same as Sunday. Eric cums into his hand, rutting against his sheets. This time, he puts a pillow down under him. Somehow, this needy cock of his isn’t satisfied. It wants something more. He can’t ignore it as he showers and gets dressed. Even tucked into his jeans as he walks around the grocery store, Eric can’t stop paying attention to his cock. Every time he passes a man, it jumps, sometimes making him moan quietly.

On Tuesday, Eric has a summer class. His cock is so insistent in the morning that he cums twice before walking out the door, each less satisfying than the last. His whole class, Eric rocks forward and back, feeling the occasional drip of precum leak into his boxers as he stimulates himself with his skinny thighs. By the end of class, he’s absorbed nothing, but his boxers have absorbed so much they feel slick as he walks.

Eric resists jerking off as soon as he’s back in his room. He knows it won’t be satisfying anyway. He rips off his jeans and boxers. “What do you want?” he asks his dick.

The head is slick and shiny with precum. It seems to be gathering up under the flap of skin that’s loosened from just below the frenulum. Do guys just grow back their foreskins? As his cock bounces in time with his thundering heart, Eric looks down and suddenly has the mental image of his needy cock jackhammering a thick ass, or facefucking some guy’s throat.

Even as he imagines it, Eric feels the orgasm building. Just the thought of its needs being met has his cock about to blow. “N-no,” Eric gasps, attempting to dispel the images, but then his mind fills with the image of having one boy sucking his cockhead while another mouths at his balls. With an uncontrollable moan, Eric shoots a jet of cum out onto the floor, his knees buckling as his cock continues to unload.

On Wednesday morning, Eric wakes up with a tacky pool of mixed precum and cum on his slender belly, dripping onto the sheets on either side. He must have cum at least twice in his sleep, but his cock is still hard, the foreskin pulled back from the shiny purple head, a steady stream of precum leaking down his shaft.

Eric stares down at his cock, then looks towards the box of cards, still sitting innocently on his desk. “I can’t do this,” he tells the box flatly. “I can’t fucking do this. What am I supposed to do? Get a personality transplant?”

His fingers, where he touched the banana card, tingle for an instant.

As he wipes up the gooey puddle from his belly and groin, Eric has a sudden thought. What would be so bad about just… enjoying this? Most guys would be happy to suddenly have a leaky uncut cock with a need to fuck. He should just enjoy it while it lasts.

“Fucking weird,” he mutters to himself, rolling his eyes and pulling on a pair of boxers.

It’s a few days early, but Eric’s soaked through all his underwear and has to do laundry. He sits in the laundry room, resolved to go through the lecture he couldn't pay attention to yesterday. As the boxers tumble in the sudsy water, the precum stains refuse to come out, sinking deeper into the fabric. By the end of the spin cycle, Eric’s clothes have begun to transform, the colours lightening and legs shortening on all of his baggy, body-hiding clothes.

Distracted by his lecture and the growing sensation of his cock swinging around in his boxers half-hard, Eric doesn’t notice as he transfers the load over to the dryer. As the clothes tumble, the changes become more apparent. The baked-in precum lets off a funky stench, making Eric’s head spin as all of his boxers transform into briefs, his pants into shorts. The sleeves slice neatly off all his T-shirts and vanish.

“Are these my clothes?” Eric mutters to himself as he unloads the dryer. He gives one of the briefs a sniff, filling his nose with the scent of his own pre. “Damn, yeah,” he chuckles, pulling out the rest. He can’t help but think that he should be kinda disgusted by that, right? But no, it’s actually pretty hot that his pre and cum are so powerful they can’t be washed out.

The rest of the day is similarly weird. Eric keeps having these weird thoughts, like he has two personalities in him. One is painfully shy and closeted, while the other is confident and a bit cocky. With every dribble of precum from his thick uncut cock, Eric can feel the shy personality being subsumed into this more confident man.

The next morning, Eric’s woken up by his last orgasm of the night, pumping several shots of cum right up onto his neck. God, he needs to figure out how to satiate this needy cock of his. Before he’s gotten out of bed, he’s already unloaded again, thrusting down into the towel he needs to keep on his bed all the time.

Instead of paying attention to his Thursday lecture, Eric downloads Grindr and uploads a selfie of his torso in bed this morning, covered in a layer of pearlescent cum. “Big shooter, in need of hole,” he writes as his bio. He doesn’t have any shame left, he needs to unload inside of a man. He can’t help but think that the cards heard his plea yesterday, and tore down some of his inhibitions.

Even so, that evening Eric finds himself unable to message back to any of the guys who message him. Every new hole pic or open mouth he receives makes him shrink deeper into his old shyness, even as his cock pisses precum at the sight of all these ready holes. Shuddering through his nth orgasm, he finally falls asleep.

By Friday morning, Eric is basically caught in a continuous, low-grade orgasm. His whole mind is suffused by need, and he snatches up his phone and messages the nearest person with “bottom” in their profile, probably someone in his dorm. “U up?”

The other guy responds immediately. “Damn, can I suck u?”

Eric groans as the thought sends a jet of cum out of his cock. He sends the guy his room number and opens his door at the knock a few minutes later.

The guy is cute, a little taller than Eric, tan with a cute little belly. “Holy shit,” he says, gaping at Eric’s continual leaking and the puddles of cum all over the floor.

“Get in here,” Eric growls, dragging the guy inside to slam the door shut. He shoves the guy down to his knees and rams his cock into his mouth.

It’s like a circuit closes. For the first time in two days, Eric can think as spurts of cum drain down the guy’s throat. He cums for what feels like minutes, until finally the need subsides and he pulls out, his cock softening at last.

The guy wipes at a trail of cum that leaked out of his mouth and licks it up. “So, hi, I’m Blair,” he says.

Suddenly, Eric is laughing. He can’t seem to stop. He drops to his knees in front of Blair and grins helplessly at him while continuing to laugh.

“Uh…”

“Sorry,” Eric says finally, getting himself back under control. “That was… That was my first time.”

“Damn.” Blair looks down at Eric’s soft cock, a bead of pre already forming at the tip of the foreskin. “Can I get be your second time too? Like, after lunchtime, maybe, because I think you filled me right up."

The two boys laugh together. “Uh, maybe. My cock is like, needy—“

Blair is cute and funny, and Eric finds him easy to talk to, even if their introduction was Eric unloading five men’s worth of cum into Blair’s belly. Eric finds himself feeling confident, even a little sexy, as they spend the day together. When they walk together to the dining hall for dinner, Eric finds his cock filled with a new need, and he lowers his shorts for a moment. A cock like his deserves to be seen, to show off the pre stain on his briefs.

Saturday, Eric feels almost normal. Blair gives him a real blowjob in the morning, though Eric ends up facefucking him a bit. His cock just needs to thrust. Then they play video games together between Blair draining Eric's balls until Blair heads back to his own room near midnight.

As he closes the door behind Blair, Eric remembers what happened last Saturday. He turns back to his desk to see the box of cards sitting open. Well, having a hyperactive dick hasn’t been so bad, now that he’s figured it out. He just has to solve whatever new problem these cards are gonna throw at him.

Eric draws his cards

On the first card is a drawing of a dog. It's one of the stereotypically aggressive breeds, a pit bull, standing in a defensive posture with its teeth bared. The wolf-like attitude and masculine lines of its body makes Eric think of cocky, 'manly' guys who always jump to their own defense and snap at anyone who looks at them funny.

On the second card, the art shows a cat. The cat is sitting with its back to the viewer, looking over one shoulder as if Eric isn't worth its time. Just like those independent, self-assured guys who float above everything in their lives, Eric realises. The cat looks like it marches to its own beat and doesn't bother with other people.

On the third card, there's a large, square-headed animal surrounded by smaller versions of itself. It's a capybara, Eric remembers. It looks so relaxed, chilling with its friends. Somehow, the art gives off a happy, carefree vibe. Sure, the capybara doesn't look like it spends much time thinking, but it clearly has a lot of friends and just chills all day.

Or vote here on strawpoll: https://strawpoll.com/e7ZJG4Nzdy3

See Eric's whole journey with the 1000 cards here.

Did your pick not win the vote? Send me an ask telling me what card Eric should have picked to see what could have happened.

[blehrbie-blog]

Neteyam x Reader story

Sooo, I haven't written anything in genuine years. But after watching Avatar:TWOW I've become hyperfixated and have been scrolling and refreshing the Neteyam x Reader tag basically since the movie came out. As a consequence I've had this idea in the back of my mind that I thought was very sweet and cute (something we all need after that movie) so I decided to sit down and give it a go and see what comes out of my brain. So here it is. I haven't properly edited it and it's pretty much a 1000 words of word vomit and a bunch of time skips but it made me happy to write so I'm sharing it.

Oh, BTW SPOILERS!! but also I don't stick to the event's of the movie so idk I'm just putting it out there in case someone hasn't watched the trailer.

So the idea is our girl meets Neteyam informally for the first time when they're 9. She gets cornered in the jungle by a Palulukan and Neteyam helps her run away from it. She had always known who he is being the firstborn son of the Toruk Makto. She remembers her mom telling her about the big ceremony the Tribe had when he was first born. Everyone knew him.

- You shouldn't go into Palulukan territory without being careful - he says, looking a bit unsure about her now that there's no imminent danger.

- I didn't know I was in its territory

 - Don't wander off too far on your own then.

___________________________

After this meeting, you get closer and become friends, which means as a consequence you occasionally hang out with the rest of Neteyam's family. However, as he gets older and his Dad starts preparing him to be a warrior and later on Lo'ak as well you don't have as much time to spend as you once did laughing and roaming around in the jungle exploring thick forests and shallow pools of water. It's not like you have nothing to do with your life, you do! You've been thinking of taking up lessons from the Tsahik, to see how you can use the spirit of Eywa and nature to help people who are hurting. It just so happens that the Tsahik is Neteyam's grandmother so you sometimes end up seeing him come back from a mission with his father and you share sweet smiles from across the camp.

When the tribe moves to the floating rocks, you are required by the Tsahik to help those injured from the journey and the ones getting used to the new terrain. So you're even more often in the same circles. As you're working one day about to go over to help Ninat with her sprained ankle, someone taps you on the shoulder

-You seem busy with work. - says Neteyam smiling sweetly at you

-Oh! Yes, I was just about to start. How's your training going?

You hadn't spoken in a while, just a quick wave or nod when crossing paths throughout the day. You hadn't noticed but he towers over you by a couple inches now. He nods towards his dad who's speaking with Neytiri at the edge of their tent.

-You know, just the usual responsibilities of carrying on the legacy. - His eyes gaze into you softly, like he's memorizing your face after not seeing it for long. He shakes it off and looks down - Have you got many tasks today?

-Not too much actually, just need to check up on Ninat and prepare some medicinal salves.

- I want to see you later – He looks back up into your eyes and smiles – Maybe we can go on one of our expeditions like before.

You chuckle – Sure, I'd love that.

With a final nod of approval, he stalks away to his parent's side.

When you meet later towards sunset he's waiting patiently with his Ikran by the vines connecting the Hallelujah Mountains to the Jungle below.

-We won't go too far out into the jungle so we have time to come back before sunrise. - He says as he connects his Queue with the Ikran and gazes at you expectantly – Hop on.

Can I trust that I'll come back alive from this flight? - you raise a skeptical eyebrow. He only went through his Iknimaya ritual not too long ago.

He reaches out a hand to help you up onto the animal – I don't think Eywa would forgive me if I wasted you on a simple flight.

You smile warmly into his shoulder as you hold tight onto him feeling the powerful animal shift under you as you fly out.

Roughly 10 years later

____________________________

When he comes back from the Mitkayina islands. He's taller and broader and his hair is much longer pulled into a loose braid around his Queue. You have a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you first see him. He's magnificent and commanding in his presence. The tribe has gathered all around to accept him and Jake back with a warm welcome. And even though you're hidden by your fellow Na'vi, his eyes immediately find you in the crowd and issue an eager and warm smile on his face.

As soon as he has settled the greetings with the current Olo'eyktan and the Tsahik, he finds you – walking to your sleeping pod. You would have gone to say hello and see him up close but, honestly, you were a bit intimidated. What you now knew was a childhood infatuation with him all those years ago still couldn't handle seeing him all of a sudden in all his... perfect glory. You were a little intimidated. But that doesn't stop him from reaching out for you. You see him jog over with a grin. He grabs you by the shoulders about to pull you into a hug but stops himself at the last moment. His eyes roam you over from head to toe and he looks up with glistening eyes -You've grown! - His tone sounds almost unbelieving

-That tends to happen as time passes, yes – you chuckle, hands coming up to hold onto his arms. His strong arms.

-I'm not too sure what I expected you to look like but you're... way beyond any expectation – He sounds so awe-struck as he's still taking you in, that you start to feel a little embarrassed.

-I can say the exact same thing – You say as you meet his gaze again. As you do his face softens and he brings you into his arms finally.

-I missed you, my friend.

Your hand caresses his hair gently – I missed you too.

You break apart and you decide to go for some late food with him abandoning your plans of sleep.

_______________________

Months later, when they have their first kiss. It's a slow thing. He will say something dry-humoured in his soft voice and she'll forget to laugh too busy staring at him, realizing how in love she is. And has been all these years. And when he notices that she hasn't replied he'll look at her and know immediately. That she's realized, at last. And he'll come to hold her like she's the most precious thing in his world. He'll thread his fingers through her hair bringing her face close to his. Forehead pressed to hers, patiently waiting for her to join him in the reality he has been living. Where they have loved each other for a while, longed and missed unbelievably because of it, and are finally able to bask in it. The warm smiles and looks, the casual closeness that not being apart allows. The things he has been dreaming of. He looks at her lips and back at her eyes, pulling back slightly to give her some space. Maybe she's not entirely understanding his feelings, maybe she's too caught up in her own to recognize his signs, he thinks, ready to give her all the time- When she grabs his neck and drags him back to her. - Neteyam... – her eyes are glossy like she's about to cry. So he caresses her cheeks gently and finally presses their lips sweetly together. And he can not compare it to any other feeling he has ever experienced. It's not like loving her, that's easy and at the same time overwhelming. It has brought him to the point that he is ready to lay down his life and all of his family's expectations to travel back to the tribe just to see her. To be reunited. But this feeling, this kiss is like knowing, that he won't be alone in his love and he can give her his all, his soul. They stay there, lost in the sweetness of being together like never before until the sun has long set and the moon has long risen.

_______________________

That is it! I do realise I keep skipping between tenses, I apologise if anyone finds it annoying and hope you enjoyed!

Edit: I thought it might be useful to put a link to part 2 down here so: Next

[gegengestalt]

131 useless or often forgotten facts in The Brothers Karamazov!

This 27 of April is the second anniversary of the day I finished this book for the first time. To do something special, I reread it over the last 20 days and as I did it, I compiled little things that are easy to forget in these 1000 pages filled with food for thought. Let's go!

1. Mitya fought in a duel, though it's most likely that nobody died in it.

2. Ivan's journalist pseudonym is "Eyewitness".

3. Alyosha, in his own words, came back to Skotoprigonyevsk to visit his mother's grave.

4. Fyodor Pavlovich owns several taverns in the district.

5. Grigory was the one who gave Sofia Ivanovna a proper gravestone.

6. Alyosha is one deduction away from becoming a communist.

7. The Brothers Karamazov begins in late August.

8. Kalganov is supposedly Alyosha's friend. This is never mentioned ever again.

9. Kalganov gave one coin to some beggars and told them to divide it among themselves.

10. There is a rumour that the previous elder beat people with sticks. This is false.

11. Alyosha is the only person in the monastery who knows that Rakitin is an atheist, and keeps his secret.

12. Four years ago, Pyotr Miusov divulged a fake story about a saint making out with his own decapitated head. Fyodor never forgot.

13. Madame Khokhlakov is only 33 years old. She has been a widow for 5 years, meaning Lise lost her father at age 9.

14. Zosima's serenity in front of the woman who confesses to a murder may foreshadow his later recollection of having a murder confessed to before.

15. Zosima likes to make jokes.

16. Lise and Alyosha last saw each other two years before.

17. Reminder that Grushenka met Mitya because Fyodor wanted her help to throw Mitya into a debtors' prison.

18. Kuzma Samsonov is the mayor of Skotoprigonyevsk.

19. Ivan rambled to Dmitri and Katerina about how he thinks Rakitin will be a failed journalist turned landlord.

20. Fyodor Pavlovich's house is filled with rats.

21. The Miusov family had their own private theatre.

22. Lizaveta Smerdyashchaya was a bit over 142cm/4'7 tall.

23. In 1842 there was a runaway convict called Karp commiting crimes in Skotoprigonyevsk.

24. Marya Kondratievna's mother is missing a leg.

25. Mitya ghosted a girl in real life.

26. Katerina's mother died when she was young.

27. Mitya had a fever for two weeks once because of a spider bite.

28.Mitya thought Grushenka was "nothing striking" the first time he saw her.

29. Mitya was squatting in his neighbour's rented room.

30. Fyodor Pavlovich has a portrait of the former provincial governor in his house.

31. Fyodor Pavlovich goes to sleep at 3- 4AM, like Dostoyevsky himself.

32. Sofia Ivanovna was being courted by a rich man called Beliavsky while she was married.

33. Who was the woman coming from the alley that Mitya mistook for Grushenka? I still wonder.

34. A cheap glass jar was destroyed during Mitya's frenzied break- in.

35. Katerina sends two detailed reports a week to her surrogate mother figure who lives in Moscow.

36. Katerina has an aquarium.

37. Alyosha sleeps using his monk habit as a blanket.

38. Father Ferapont survives eating nothing more than 1,6kg of bread a week.

39. Ivan had told his father about his feelings for Katerina, for some reason.

40. When Alyosha kissed his father, he had the impression that Alyosha was thinking that it was their last conversation.

41. Madame Khokhlakova owns three houses as property.

42. Madame Khokhlakova and Katerina Ivanovna are supposedly great friends.

43. Ivan reads Schiller when nobody is looking.

44. One of Snegiryov's daughters, Varvara, is invested in feminism.

45. Captain Snegiryov's childhood friend is a lawyer.

46. Mitya spilled cognac over the table of the summerhouse.

47. Smerdyakov sings in falsetto.

48. Marya Kondratievna is the only one who ever calls Smerdyakov 'Pavel Fyodorovich'.

49. Ivan uses Smerdyakov as a messenger.

50. Dmitri and Katerina had been engaged for around six months.

51. Ivan's right shoulder looks lower than the left one when he walks.

52. Smerdyakov often moves the tip of his right foot from side to side when he stands (adorable).

53. Dmitri's favourite death threats are "pounding in a mortar" and "breaking legs".

54. Grigory suffers from paralysis three times a year.

55. The real name of 'Lyagavy' is Gorstkin.

56. Zosima's real name is "Zinovy".

57. There was actually another old German doctor before Herzenstube and he was named Eisenschmidt.

58. Zosima has known Brother Anfim for forty years.

59. The Bible is thrown once.

60. Madame Khokhlakova asked Rakitin to go to the funeral as her eye.

61. Alyosha was hiding behind the grave of starets Iov, who lived 105 years.

62. Zosima was harshly criticized for telling a monk hallucinating to take his meds if praying doesn't work.

63. Both Grushenka and Rakitin are children of deacons.

64. Samsonov is the only person that Grushenka seems to be completely and clearly sincere with.

65. Likewise, Samsonov only trusts her when it comes to counting money.

66. Samsonov has the entire first floor of his house for himself.

67. Mitya tells many of his secrets to his landlords, who are fond of him.

68. Alongside eggs and bread, Mitya grabbed and ate a piece of sausage that he "found".

69. Mitya and Perkhotin first met at the Metropolis tavern.

70. Mitya's dueling pistols are his "most prized possessions".

71. Madame Khokhlakova apparently borrows money from Miusov.

72. The brass pestle was 17 centimetres long.

73. Mitya spent exactly 300 rubles in food and alcohol in Mokroye, and it would have been 400 if Perkhotin didn't help.

74. Mitya gave a glass of champagne to a kid.

75. The owner of Plotnikov's shop is called Varvara Alexeievna.

76. Two thousand villagers live in Mokroye.

77. Trifon Borissovich makes his younger daughters clean up the messes of every guest of the inn.

78. Pan Wroblewski is 190cm / 6'2 tall.

79. Madame Khokhlakova gets a migraine whenever she has to talk to Mitya.

80. The ispravnik's elder granddaughter is called Olga, and the night of the murder was her birthday.

81. The prosecutor's wife seems very interested in sending for Mitya often, for reasons he doesn't know.

82. Mitya does not know that the epidermis is the outer layer of the skin.

83. Nikolay Parfenovich is the only person in the world who trusts Ippolit Kirillovich.

84. Mitya often dreams that a person that he fears is chasing him and searching for him.

85. Nikolay Parfenovich wears a smoky topaz ring on his middle finger.

86. Pan Wroblewski is a dentist without a license.

87. Kalganov had visited Grushenka once before, but she seemed to dislike him for some reason.

88. Kolya's father died when he was a little baby.

89. There was a plot going on in the background about the doctor's maid having a child out of wedlock.

90. Rakitin often talks with Kolya. Seems like the only person who takes his ideas seriously is a literal child.

91. Smerdyakov and Ilyusha met and talked to each other.

92. Alyosha rarely gets colds.

93. Katerina befriended Snegiryov's sick wife.

94. Kolya was taken to a judge for teaching a guy how to efficiently crack the neck of a goose.

95. Kolya is against women's rights.

96. Mitya and Grushenka spent five weeks secluded and away from each other after the arrest.

97. Grushenka went to see Grigory to try to convince him that the door wasn't open.

98. Rakitin made up in an article that Madame Khokhlakova offered Mitya 3k rubles to run away with her.

99. Madame Khokhlakova doesn't remember Rakitin's patronymic, and calls him "Ivanovich" instead of "Osipovich".

100. Madame Khokhlakova didn't know of the judicial system reform until two days before the trial.

101. Lise sent chocolates to Mitya in jail, even though there's no reference to them ever interacting before.

102. Alyosha has had the same dream about the devils that Lise has.

103. Alyosha is friends with the jail inspector, who often discusses the gospels with him.

104. Mitya spent two entire nights awake since he discovered ethics.

105. Ivan cleans his own room.

106. Smerdyakov shared a hospital room with an agonizing dropsy patient.

107. Mitya's letter had the bill on the other side.

108. Smerdyakov uses garters with his stockings.

109. There is an apple tree in Fyodor's garden.

110. One of Ivan's "most stupid" thoughts is being the fat wife of a merchant.

111. Ivan had a friend named Korovkin when he was 17, the one he told the story of the quadrillion kilometres to.

112. Ivan has another poem named Geological Cataclysm.

113. Alyosha was the first person the distraught Marya Kondratievna ran to.

114. Ivan is mistaken for "the eldest son" twice in the trial.

115. Grigory did not remember he was in 1866.

116. Rakitin knows "every detail" of the biography of Fyodor Pavlovich and all the Karamazovs.

117. Grushenka's surname, Svetlova, means "light".

118. Mitya once dropped 100 rubles while he was drunk.

119. Ivan saw not just the Devil, but people who had died while he walked in the street.

120. Ippolit Kirillovich died nine months after the trial, the first and last day he received applauses.

121. Marfa is dismissed as a suspect simply because they can't imagine her killing.

122. There is a partition wall in Mitya's lodgings.

123. Mitya mostly stopped staring at the floor during the prosecutor's speech whenever Grushenka was mentioned.

124. Fetyukovich bends forward in an unnerving manner when he speaks.

125. An 18 year old street vendor committed axe murder earlier that year.

126. The verdict was given past 1AM, making the trial last almost 16 hours.

127. Katerina kept the sick Ivan in her house knowing it could possibly be harmful to her reputation.

128. Rakitin tried to sneak in to see Mitya in the hospital twice.

129. Lise sent the flowers that adorn Ilyusha's coffin, and Katerina paid for the grave.

130. Snegiryov cries seeing his late son's little boots the same way one of the women at the monastery in the beginning of the book did.

131. At the end, Alyosha mentions "leaving the city for a long time" soon. Where to? We don't know.

If you read this far down, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing all of these down.

[shslbunnylover]

★★★𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩 𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 (12 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝘿𝙖𝙮 3: 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙛𝙛 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮)★★★

Character: Larissa Weems

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta (Message me to be a part of the taglist until I get a page set up!!)

Trigger warnings (DL, DI): Flirty behavior, alcohol consumption

Genre: Fluff

A/n: Third day is rolling right along with the lovely Larissa Weems! I had so much fun writing this!!

Word count: 1.6k

...

...

Covering your left ear in hopes of draining the noise around you from your hearing, you felt yourself becoming slightly more anxious about having said yes to the staff holiday party at Nevermore. You were well-liked by the students and the other staff. However, you still felt a sense of anxiety wash over you the moment you entered the room.

Looking down at your dress that fell just below your knees, you placed your hands over the other and made your way towards the drinks with a smile on your lips, waving your greeting to the familiar faces around you.

The air around you smelled of cinnamon and sugar cookies, making your body feel like it was melting its nervous shell and leaving only a comfortable and carefree interior. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you grabbed the ladle out of the eggnog, pouring the white liquid into your glass until it was full.

Bringing the glass to your lips, the liquid fell down your throat, causing the tips of your ears once chilled by the cold outside air to warm up.

"This is pretty good," You thought out loud, going to grab a sugar cookie from the large plate next to the bowl of eggnog.

"I'm glad you think so, I made it myself," A regal voice with a familiar British accent spoke, her words turning into a chuckle as you jumped in surprise.

"Ms. Weems!" You exclaimed, putting a hand over your chest as you took a breath in between a couple of laughs. "You scared me!"

"Please darling, call me Larissa, we've known each other for a few years now," Larissa smiled, walking closer to you.

You blushed softly, looking up at the taller woman.

"Yes Larissa," You replied meekly, feeling her dominant and powerful presence washing over you, her aura only increasing due to your feelings for the woman.

"Even when you call me by my first name, you find a way to make it formal. Don't you?" She chuckled, her laugh sounding soft and sweet as it always did, the sound of it had pushed you into a lovesick state.

You nodded, your eyes finding their way down to your feet, attempting to make yourself feel like a normal person for a moment.

"Look back up at me sweetling," Larissa commanded, wanting to see your face again.

You obliged almost immediately, your heart pounding at 1000 miles an hour at the blonde's overwhelming presence.

"T-The party is very nice," You tried to change the subject, hoping to calm down the raging blush on your face.

"It is, but I have a question for you, Y/n," The taller woman stated, taking a sip of her warm eggnog before placing it back on the table.

"Yes?" You asked, looking at her with curious eyes.

"Do I make you nervous?"

You froze, looking at her with a blush scattered across your cheeks and nose, you weren't sure what to say in reply.

You seemingly were silent for a couple minutes, as Larissa cupped your cheek to knock you out of your thoughts.

"Sweetling, are you alright? That question didn't make you uncomfortable did it darling?"

Her pet names were like music to your ears, but you weren't sure how to continue the melody, often ending it with stutters and blush.

"I... I don't know," You replied honestly, "I don't know what it is,"

"That's quite alright snowflake," Larissa nodded, turning her head to the other staff and then back to you. "I should leave you to the party," She smiled, walking away, and leaving you flustered.

You stood there, before a wave of confidence washed over you.

You grabbed her hand, placing your glass on the table to reach further.

"Wait-" You quickly stopped her, retracing your hand with a blush once her blue eyes went back to face you with surprise. "I wanted to give you the present I got you, would you like to see it?" You nervously asked, your mind thinking of any excuse to be near the blonde.

"Oh snowflake, you didn't have to get me anything just because we did a whole Secret Santa event, you know that," Larissa chuckled, "But I know whatever you got me is amazing," She continued, her lips forming into a smile as the two of you walked over to a little Christmas tree where you had put her gift.

You pulled up a small box that was perfectly prepared, the wrapping paper was a beautiful light blue and paired with a white snowflake gift tag that matched the tiny decals on the paper.

"Merry Christmas Larissa," You smiled, handing it to her as your eyes traveled their way up her body.

"Thank you Y/n," She smiled, taking the paper gently off of the box to reveal a small jewelry box.

"Go on! Open the box!" You encouraged her with a soft smile on your lips.

The blonde simply chuckled, quickly opening the velvet box to reveal a very luxurious set of opal dangle earrings.

"Y/n..." She trailed off, her eyes widening as her fingers grazed over the gemstones. "These are beautiful...!"

You beamed in reply, your hands clenching into fists out of your excitement.

"I got you the earrings in opal because it's your birthstone!"

Larissa looked at you with wonderment in her eyes.

"How did you know my birthday? I don't tell that to anyone," She asked, still amazed by how thoughtful you were.

"I asked around," You smirked, "Do you like them?"

"Like them? Darling, I love them! You didn't have to get me these!" The older woman replied, moving her vision from you to the earrings.

"I'd do anything for you," You said, your smirk forming into a more lovesick and warmth-filled smile.

The principal paused for a moment, matching your facial features as she took your hand in her own, shutting the box.

"Is that so? Then you would be willing to answer another question, right?"

You nodded.

"Yes, what is it?" You questioned her, tilting your head slightly to the side.

"If I kissed you, would you reciprocate?"

You froze for a minute, just like you had when she asked you a question before, but something about this moment didn't feel the same.

You pushed your touching hands together, fingers intertwining with each other as you pulled her in for a passionate kiss.

Her hand found its way to your cheek, pulling you further into her lips and her taste of sugar cookies and eggnog.

Pulling away from her to catch your breath, Larissa looked at you once again, her ruby red lips placing themselves on your cheek to leave a slight mark in their wake.

"I guess I have my answer then," She chuckled, watching you break out into a huge blush over what had just occurred.

"I didn't think this would ever happen- At a staff holiday party nonetheless-!" You covered your face with your hands, only for them to be pulled down by the woman in front of you.

"Well," Larissa replied, "Strange things happen during the holidays, don't they?"

"Yeah," You nodded, "I didn't think pretending to be your Secret Santa was the way I'd woo you over,"

Larissa's eyes widened slightly, before she broke out into a soft laughter, placing another soft kiss on your cheek.

"And I didn't think that a good girl like yourself could do such a naughty thing," She teased, her lips falling to yours once more.

...

If you enjoyed reading this, don't forget to like, reblog and comment! Thank you and you are loved <3

-Akira