#i like exploring the aftermath of the whole thing

[thatguyisdrowning]

thoughts on arcane season 2

spoilers below

season 2 was definitely giving "trying to wrap up an insanely large cast of characters stories in only 9 episodes" and none of them were really given the care they deserved. it all happened so fast that it was a little confusing at first.

the entire isha thing feels so manufactured. she just appears, "fixes" jinx, then dies/is implied to have died but we don't actually know for certain because we never see her death. and then there's the entire lack of any proper mention of her in act 3. where did she come from? where did she go? where did she come from cotton eye joe? why did warwick survive but not isha if he was the one to actually get shot?

jinx also seemed to mellow out far too quickly, i think if we had a third season and it was spread out more it would feel more authentic. i was expecting her to lose it again in the aftermath of isha's death but she didn't. yes, grief to the point of not caring about herself anymore and just wanting to get vi (the only person she has left) to safety makes sense however it doesn't match up with anything we've seen from jinx in the past. if she'd had a longer time getting to be happy with her family of 4 and healing herself it'd make more sense but she didn't. i think a downward spiral before some sort of realization that she doesn't want to be like this anymore/doesn't want to harm other children like isha/something along those lines would have been more conducive to a well rounded story and conclusion when it comes to the isha/jinx relationship. but for this to happen, we needed more time.

the way jinx's character was written, the way her story played out, it would have made sense for her to take her own life and been a satisfying conclusion. however, because i know she didn't actually die i'm pleased she didn't commit suicide because i like her, her character, her champion, and her story and i want to be able to see more of it all in future projects from riot. and for that to happen the "death" needed to be a little uncertain. the "oh no the metal beam is breaking, guess i better sacrifice myself to save my sister" trope is very overused and hard to do well because of that, but i did like the way they implied jinx was still alive at the end.

jayce and viktor's story was confusing and rushed, while also being the main focal point and the most fleshed out story of the whole show. if viktor knew he and jayce were meant to be together in every timeline, why was he trying to fuck shit up? again, if we had more time in the form of a third season or perhaps longer episodes in season 2, we would have seen their story explored in more depth and had a greater understanding of it.

vi's character was watered down by the inclusion of a single line: "i am the dirt under your nails, cupcake." as something said in passing it wouldn't have held as much weight, but this was one of the last things she said on screen. it essentially boils her character down to nothing but a supporting character for caitlyn when the entire series began and ended with vi and jinx's relationship.

"are you still in this fight, violet?" what fight? against jinx? no, caitlyn seems to have forgiven her and as far as we know vi still thinks she's dead. against noxus? no, mel's in charge (but is she? we see swain make an appearance...) against the undercity? no, they've made peace and sevika is on the council. against singed? no, he's saved his daughter so will live happily ever after now, right? against jayce and viktor? no, they had some weird story conclusion and also died in the astral realm, killing their earthly bodies but realistically they could have survived. i don't want them to have survived, but they could have. all i can think is either she was referring to their relationship OR to their future as enforcers which would make sense in the league lore.

the death of 4 major characters (not including heimer or jinx i'm 100% sure they arent dead) and what it means for the lore and their champions is just??? brushed over??? their champions almost definitely won't be removed but a tiny part of me wishes they would be for continuity and lore reasons.

i wish we were given more insight into what noxus is like now after ambessa's death. mel is seen to be ruling now but in the league lore, swain is the ruler of noxus. it's common knowledge that arcane lore is replacing league lore where necessary/sometimes where it isn't necessary, so it wouldn't make sense but would be easily passed off if we just didn't see any mention of swain, but we do see him (or to be specific, one of his ravens). while i wish we were given some clarity here, i think it was a smart move to not explicity reveal who swain is because to those who know it all but confirms the villian for the next netflix series set in runeterra, but it also leaves the venue open for the story to take an entirely different path, because arcane only fans won't know who he is, and for the league fans it can somehow be passed off as an irrelevant appearance in arcane.

some other points i don't have fully fleshed out thoughts/opinions on:

i would've liked to have seen more of felicia's story

i don't think jayvik should've kissed, the forehead touch was just as, if not more meaningful

the story of singed's daughter wasn't explored as much as it should have been, especially considering it's a huge part of why shimmer was ever created and of the pre-existing league lore

while there are parts of the story i found unsatisfying, i'm totally in love with all of the characters and the artistry. while almost all of the female leads fit perfectly into specific overused tropes, they turned those tropes on their head and executed them well. the women in arcane are attractive but they all have agency. ekko is the best side character ever written. they wrote the "morally grey" characters really well. it's plain to see the writers spent so much time and energy on creating these perfect characters. the artists knocked it out of the park, arcane is the most visually appealing animated show i've ever seen. arcane is a masterpiece in so many ways and i look forward to seeing what's to come :)

if you've read this far, first of all go outside (kidding of course), and second, let me know your thoughts and if you agree/disagree. if you have any theories on what's to come next, let me know!

[july-19th-club]

house md wildest show on earth. a main character outright assassinates a known dictator, a moment that would be the very beginning or the mid-series crisis in any other show - an act which creates a power vacuum in a foreign nation already filled with child soldiers and genocide, and it's literally only brought up again throughout the season because that guy's wife divorces him over it. and occasionally to explore his relationship with who he is as a person and a catholic after having deliberately taken a life for what he calculates as the greater good, but mostly it's about his divorce

[lemongogo]

[poppyseed799]

I feel like life series fanon jimmy is kind of mischaracterized and there’s an easy way to make sure you’re doing it right: he has a lot of unearned confidence

[kurthorton-moving]

this isnt an au ive talked ab on the dash much its mostly been written on discord but i am thinking heavily about the au where kurt spends his entire teenage years kidnapped and finally escapes a little while after he turned eighteen and the way he has to adjust to the shift in his life from being hostage and conditioned into the lifestyle he lived vs freedom and rediscovering the world and more importantly rediscovering himself

[shaisuki]

📌 day twenty-one: sex pollen + nanami kento

with every step, the world seems to spin more around him.

he needs to have the treatment of whatever he was feeling. the weather wasn't hot that day as the weather forecast had predicted but why was his clothes feels warmer around him and why does his heart beat seems to run a mile and sweat trickling down his forehead.

the mark behind his palm, just above the knuckles is a splotchy tint of pink similar to a stain of spilled wine. extending to his arm that is hidden by his shirt, his silver watch glinting in the light. there's also the unmistakable heat pooling in his stomach. one that he's familiar with. it was beginning to bother him at this point.

“nanami?” a voice called out to him and it was an angel's voice he must be hearing. it could be and it belongs to you.

why you must appear at this time. looking so regal and ethereal and looking like you're a sculpture of a greek artist that had come to life. the light from the sunny weather outside glares at you and it place you on the spot with the light acting like halo above your head. you must be angel and before he can control his actions. he crashes his lips into yours.

groping whatever skin he can touch and reach. reveling in the softness and squishiness of your flesh that feels like clay for him to mold and smooth against his touch.

he was tainted with lust that he didn't think of the aftermath and what's little of self control went to you. you were a little bit shocked at what just happened and nanami was already apologizing. his cheeks flushed like he had been drinking.

“i'm sorry. i didn't i was thinking.” he says but his words are contradiction to his actions. he was still glued to you. hands roaming all over your supple body. “i just need you.” it was the influence of the curse that was talking but it was real. part of it was coming from him. the whole thing.

the heady scent of your perfume mixing with your won sends him teetering over the edge and all he wants is to bite you and taste you on his tongue.

the blonde got you trapped in his grip. “i'm sorry. i promise i'll make it up to you.” he says in between groans and he's already lifting you up. spreading your legs to place himself between them. you have no choice in this but to take what he's about to give.

despite the neediness growing in his pants. arousal evident with the painful bulge. he made sure to kiss you. savor the open mouthed kisses that leaves you gasping and mewling for him. “fucking beautiful.” he curses under his breath. tugging down at your pants and revealing the mound of your fat cunt.

it only took him a quick zip of his pants and it's pooling in his knees. pulling down his boxers. his cock springing free. leaking with beads of cum. awaiting for the relief that was supposed to ease it.

“just bare with me.” he whispers. pulling you into a kiss. repeatedly tapping the tip of his cock to your clothed panties before pushing them aside to accommodate his length that is being painful as the minute goes by. a groan escaped his lips. the strands of blonde hair sticking in sweat to his forehead.

“ssh.” he shushes you as he slowly puts his hardened length to your awaiting heat. “you're so good around me baby.” rubbing soft circles to your soft thighs to distract you from the pain of his cock intruding your cunt.

he kissed your round cheeks again and again and then to your lips before delving his tongue past beyond your lip and then his tongue is exploring whatever part he can touch before sucking your tongue. leaving you drooling and lewdly moaning at his ministrations.

he grinds his pelvis against hers. his cock rubbing all over her sweet spot and that made his cock throb and pulse. he's not going to last and with a groan. his lips still attached to your mouth he cummed. spilling his seed and painting your walls white with his spent. a pleasurable relief sending shivers up his spine.

it was only temporary, the effects of the curse that hit him hasn't fully gone down and added by the addicting taste of you and your body being made for him. he won't be calming any time soon.

by the time that you both are covered in each other's arousal you were still both fucking each other's brain out and nanami made sure after this, he will pamper you. spoil you after this.

[pomefioredove]

Hello and good day 🕊️

How will the vice dormheads react seeing reader overblot and finding out they kept the pain all to themselves until they couldn't take it anymore?

Pls I'm so desperate for overblot!reader content and angst❤️❤️ tanks

RARE VICE HOUSEWARDENS REQUEST 🔥🔥🔥I LOVE ANGST!!!! not adding ruggie this time because I'm lazy sorry everyone

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ overblot!reader

type of post: headcanons characters: trey, jade, jamil, rook, lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, established relationship for the Angst

there are a lot of things Jamil is feeling right now. fear, a little frustration, too. but he's mostly just ashamed that he never saw the signs. his favorite person in the whole world, the only shoulder he had to lean on, is overblotting, and he has no idea why. you were so supportive through the aftermath of his own overblot, he never thought to... it's his own selfishness and pride slapping him in the face, and it stings

but he'd rather feel guilt than grief. overblotting is painful, exhausting, and emotionally scarring, and he knows it. he's going to get you out of this, even if you hate him for it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

this makes the second time someone close to Rook has been led to overblot, and the second time he didn't see it coming. a tragedy in two parts. and his guilt would have killed him, if it weren't the only thing keeping him alive now. he has to survive this for you. he can feel miserable about it after you're safe and sound at his side again. he won't even consider the other possibility; you have so much more to explore together

it just can't be over yet

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Lilia has followed grief for his entire life. now, at his age, when he's finally settled down, and the world is quiet for once, this happens. he can't tell if he had simply missed the signs, or ignored them, and each answer is equally distressing. despite what he's said about life and loss, he was never ready to confront the reality of losing you, especially so... soon. so, reality confronted him instead

he can't let it end like this. not again

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Trey blames himself. how could he not? all this time, he's been trying to stay out of the way, to keep the peace. if he had been by your side, if he had defended you, if he had made a better effort, maybe you wouldn't be in this place now

his unique magic isn't particularly strong, and his magic pool isn't very deep, but he'll walk right into the center of the storm if he has to. it's about time he started rocking the boat

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul's overblot was tragic, but Jade knew it was coming. it was entertaining, anyway. but this...

never in his life could he imagine something making him so uncomfortable. it makes him queasy, almost seasick, which is a strange thing for a man of the sea to feel. he wishes he could just talk to you, but it's too late for that now. when this is over, you can have a long chat over tea

he just needs you to hold on for a little while longer

[ennn]

An incredibly thoughtful and intelligent interview with Kathryn Hahn! Here's a bunch of my highlights under the cut - this interview was definitely done after episode 6.

Shout-out to @isagrimorie and @the-ominous-owl for finding this first

Happy to see someone complimenting Hahn on how well she's embodying the character right down to her fingertips. The interviewer asked the thing I've been dying to know: how it was like working with her movement coach Jennifer White.

Turns out she didn't work with her much for AAA, since Agatha doesn't have her powers, but she worked closely with her for WV where White would propose specific movements for the different spells she had to do, giving her options.

Hahn lets it slip at around 6:11 that Agatha gets her powers back at the very end. Which yeah if you've been watching trailers seems kinda obvious but there you go.

I love how Hahn naturally slips in and out of character in her answers to these questions – she's clearly spent so much time and easily gets into that headspace. It also shows how good these questions are in exploring the character.

Yes, Agatha's whole trauma with her mom did of course make it difficult for her to trust other witches or anybody. "Centuries of survival mechanisms, she just makes a joke."

Interesting: Not only does Rio understand and see parts of Agatha she doesn't want others to see, Agatha "sees things in [Rio] that she's trying to conceal."

Hahn describes their very long and complicated history as one that is "filled with love and respect and hate", with Hahn saying that Rio has really been the only one whose energy has felt equal to Agatha, "someone to spar with and be shocked by".

Agatha's default mask / shell is to be mean. That's always an available option.

Agatha surprises herself with the empathy she's finding for this coven the more time she spends with them, because it is a coven of outcasts. It's new and weird and unexpected for her.

Hahn aligning with Schaeffer's interpretation that Agatha has limited control over her siphoning power: "It's like something takes over and she just absorbs people's power... When she find herself doing it, it's like she can't help it. She just takes."

Hilarious based on Hahn's reaction that she never unpacked the episode 5 aftermath scenes consciously until now. "Oh Agatha." Yep she is a real mess when you actually look at her lol.

Happy that Hahn's perspective is aligning with my meta of how complicated Agatha's relationship with Billy is: It's "an echo of something", Agatha's happy and proud that he's dropped the ruse and is embracing his witch identity, and that he's capable of murder. And she remembers the little kid she babysat.

You can tell how much Hahn cares for and is protective of the character when she talks about how vulnerable Agatha was under the spell and how she was brought low.

Hahn did say "foreplay" when responding to the question about the Episode 1 physical fight, and Rio and Agatha going at each other despite not being able to kill each other.

"I think it's a testament to how strong their bond is that it could reach through a spell and find each other there. And she was really responsible – and Teen – for getting me out of the spell."

"So it felt familiar, like we've done this again, a million times over the years. And it always kinda ends like that. 'Not this time!' but you know what I mean? We keep it going."

[w4ndal0ver]

The Art of Submission (3)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

chapter summary: You go to dinner at Wanda's apartment and you have a tension filled conversation about your wants and limits, and she lays down her rules for you.

whole summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: continuing the insane amount of sexual tension, mentions of: edging, orgasm denial, bondage, wax play, temperature play, chastity, gagging, clothing control, praise, degradation, threesomes, role reversal, safewords, time control.

note: So this is the third instalment and I managed to bulk this chapter out, so finally everything begins in the next instalment. enjoy <3

The Art of Submission - Chapter 3

You sit alone in your apartment, the stillness of the room doing nothing to settle the arousal inside of you. The aftereffects of your time with Wanda cling to you like a second skin, every touch she left on your body burning like a golden tattoo, haunting the most sensitive parts of you. It’s impossible to focus on anything else, but her presence is everywhere. You hadn’t even dared go to your kitchen after the scene that played out in there the previous night. 

The memory of her fingers brushing your skin, the weight of her eyes on you, plays over and over in your mind. The way she took control so effortlessly, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Yet, the thing eating you up inside was how quickly you surrendered to it, willingly offering yourself up with barely a second thought. It was like she made your body respond before your mind had a chance to catch up. 

You replay the moment continuously in your mind. The memory of her eyes, those captivating depths of emotion etched in your thoughts. You can almost see her now, the smile against her lips and the way her hair cascades in waves, framing her face perfectly. 

You try to shake it off, to distract yourself, but your thoughts keep looping back to those moments. You’re caught in the aftermath of her power over you and you can’t escape it. You don’t want to. Your phone sits beside you on the bed, a looming presence in the silence, as heavy as the tension in the air. You’re waiting. There’s a knot of dread in your stomach yet beneath it lingers an electric current of anticipation. You’re torn between desperately wanting to hear from her, and dreading what she might say. What more she could demand of you. 

Time drags on, but every second feels stretched, each one heavier than the last. You glance at your phone again, chewing your lip, fingers brushing over the screen as though you could summon a message from her. Then, at last, it buzzes. The screen lights up and there it is, a text from Wanda. 

You were even easier to break than I imagined, maybe I should take it easier on you next time.

 Dinner tonight, my place, 8pm.

W x 

Your breath hitches at the message, even her teasing over text could make your arousal pool between your legs and you felt so insanely vulnerable, a feeling that was driving you up the walls. You looked at the message again, but your eyes darted to the time. 6:30pm. Now your heart was racing, she’d barely given you any notice and you had no idea what to wear or how to prepare for this. 

You dart to your wardrobe, sifting through your options, fingers brushing over soft fabrics and cool textures, each piece pulling you in different directions. Part of you craves something casual, comfortable enough to ease the tension bubbling beneath your skin. However, another part yearns for something subtly alluring, a way to communicate your excitement. 

Your gaze lands on a sleek, short black dress hanging elegantly in the corner of the closet. It’s simple yet enticing, with its deep neckline and fitted silhouette that hugs your curves just right. The thought of slipping it on sends a thrill through you, the way it would accentuate your figure and showcase the confidence you’d failed to convey before. 

As you take the dress from the hanger, laying it out on your bed you recall the lingerie you recently bought. The image of the intricate patterns crafted from a soft and delicate scarlet lace dancing across your body sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You wonder if Wanda would appreciate the effort, if she’d see through the fabric. Would she smile that knowing smirk, her eyes sparkling with approval? 

The clock ticks steadily, each second a reminder of the approaching dinner. You can feel your nerves creeping up, coiling tighter around your neck. You rush to the mirror, brushing your hair away from your face, analysing every inch of your reflection. You change into both the lingerie and the dress, taking a deep breath to try and calm the fluttering in your stomach. 

As you step back, fully dressed and finally feeling the allure of the ensemble. The black dress hugs your body perfectly, the lace edging of your lingerie peeking through. You bundle your hair into a bun, pulling a few strands and purposefully messing the tight grip of the hairband so you look slightly unravelled already. You thread the silver hooped earrings through your lobes, matching it with a small pendant necklace, a small heart that sat against your chest. Finally, you add a touch of red lipstick to complete the look, imagining the insides of Wanda’s thighs painted in red kisses. 

With one more final look, you shake your head trying to get out of it before heading towards the door and crossing the hall. You approach her apartment door, your pulse beating loudly inside your head. With a deep breath, you knock on the door, the sound echoing softly in the dimly lit hallway. The moment stretches out, each second laden with expectation, until the door swings open, revealing Wanda with a radiant smile, quickly turning into a flushed and unexpected look. You looked completely different to how you’d been caught out last night, and finally you gained the satisfaction you’d been longing for. 

As you step into Wanda’s apartment, she takes a moment to assess your outfit, her eyes lingering appreciatively over your figure. A slow, sultry smile spreads across her lips and you notice the way her eyes familiarly darken. 

“Wow.” She breathes, leaning casually against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest. You feel your cheeks redden at the arch of her eyebrow and the way her bottom lip catches itself between her teeth. She was wearing a white silk blouse that gleams softly under the warm light, the fabric draping elegantly over her form. The buttons are casually undone, teasingly revealing a hint of her cleavage, drawing your gaze and setting your pulse racing. Her fitted black trousers hug her curves perfectly, accentuating the shape of her hips and the subtle arch of her ass which you couldn’t help but glance at as she walks past you. 

As Wanda welcomes you, her presence adds an extra layer of warmth to the space. The combination of her vibrant red hair and the sleek, modern furnishings creates an enticing contrast that draws you in further, making you feel both at home and a little breathless. The entire apartment radiates a sense of luxury and comfort, an ideal backdrop for the evening that lies ahead.

“You look incredible.” You say as Wanda grabs a bottle of wine from the rack on her kitchen counter, she turns her head over her shoulder, her eyes dropping from your lips all the way down to your ankles before reaching back up to meet your stare. 

“You want to be careful princess; I could get used to you dressing up like this.” The lust behind her voice wasn’t even disguised by flirtation anymore. “Come on pretty girl, I’ve made you dinner.” She leads you to the dining table, perfectly laid by Wanda, a few candles scattered atop the surface, plates of spaghetti bolognese already plated up and placed opposite each other. 

She follows you around the table, pulling out the chair for you before you reach to do it yourself. The soft clink of the plates only sound for a moment, the food smells incredible, but you mind it elsewhere. If you thought you were distracted before, now with Wanda sitting opposite you, there was no way you were going to be able to get through this dinner. 

Wanda takes a sip of wine, her eyes casually tracing over your face as she sets the glass down. “You seem distracted,” she says, her tone light but the smirk playing at her lips tells you she already knows why. Taking a bite of her food, Wanda doesn’t break eye contact, the intensity making it impossible for you to focus on your meal. She chews slowly, deliberately. “You’re still thinking about it.” she states, “How you crumbled so easily.” 

Her words hit you with the same impact as the moment itself and it’s like you’re right back there, on edge, waiting for her permission. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing coherent comes out at first. Wanda chuckles, a slow, indulgent sound, “I knew you would be,” She adds, eyes never leaving yours. 

You fidget slightly in your seat, feeling the flush rise in your cheeks. It’s like she can read your mind. You finally manage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, about you.” 

Wanda’s smirk widens, her eyes darkening with satisfaction. She leans back in her chair, her posture relaced, but you can feel the control she has over the room, over you. “I thought so,” She murmurs, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. “It’s written all over your face.” 

After a long, purposeful sip of her wine, Wanda finally sets the glass down and rests her hands on the table, her fingers lightly drumming against the wood. Her expression softens, but the intensity in her gaze remains. “I’ve done this before,” she admits, her tone shifting to something quieter, more serious. “But this isn’t just about me. This is going to be about what you want, your needs, your desires, and your limits.”

She lets the words hang between you for a moment, letting you absorb their weight. “I need to know what you want from this, what you’re ready to give, and what you can’t. Because if we’re going to do this... I need your full trust.”

You swallow hard, her words wrapping around you like a promise. There’s a steadiness in her voice that makes your pulse quicken—Wanda knows exactly what she’s doing, but she’s asking for your consent, your trust. You feel your heart race as you nod, realising just how much you want to give that trust to her.

Wanda leans forward slightly, her eyes locked with yours. “It’s important you understand that, no matter how far we go, you can always stop. That’s where the safeword comes in. And I’ll ask you to use the traffic light system,” she explains and even with the seriousness of the conversation you couldn’t help but feel how wet you were becoming. Her authoritative pose, the command in her voice, and you were her muse, she wanted to do this with you. 

Her gaze doesn’t waver as she continues. “So, tell me,” she says, her voice soft but unyielding, “what do you want, tonight? What’s your limit? What’s that one thing you want to explore?”

Your hands tremble slightly as you take a deep breath. You’ve thought about this moment for hours, but saying it out loud is different. You hesitate for a heartbeat too long, and Wanda’s eyes narrow slightly, a warning glint in them. “No holding back,” she murmurs, her voice dipping low. “Tell me what you want. All of it.”

The weight of the moment presses on you, but her calm gaze feels like a lifeline. You swallow nervously before nodding. “I want to explore everything,” you admit, voice low, but clear.

Wanda’s lips quirk up in a teasing smile. “Everything?” Her tone is soft, but there’s a sharpness beneath it. “Be specific for me.” She leans forward slightly, one elbow resting on the table, her chin perched on her hand, her eyes locked with yours.

You take a breath and dive in, feeling the heat in your cheeks. “Edging, I want to explore orgasm denial,” you say, each word feeling bolder than the last.

Wanda’s smile deepens. “Good,” she murmurs, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass as her eyes darken slightly. “There’s nothing quite like having that power—to make you beg for it, only to hold you just on the edge, desperate.” She tilts her head, the teasing tone back in her voice. “You think you can handle being denied?”

You shift in your seat, the tension rising. “I... I want to try.”

Wanda’s gaze sharpens, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “I’ll enjoy testing your limits on that one.”

You take another deep breath. “Impact play,” you continue, barely believing you’re saying this out loud, but something about the way Wanda watches encourages you to continue. “Spanking, hair pulling, physical stimulation.”

Wanda’s eyes flash, and she bites her bottom lip slightly. She straightens up, her voice carrying an undercurrent of heat. “You like the idea of me making you feel it? Leaving a mark?” Her eyes flicker with excitement. “I’ll make sure you feel every moment of it. But it’ll be on my terms, at my pace.”

Her gaze lingers on you for a second, then, as if to emphasise her control, she casually reaches over and brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear, her fingers grazing your neck ever so lightly. The touch sends shivers through you.

“Bondage,” you say next, your voice softening. “I want to feel restrained.”

Wanda’s hand stills, her eyes locking onto yours. “I could tie you up, I have a lot of stuff I can use” she says, her voice dropping even lower, more deliberate. “Make you helpless. You won’t be able to move, won’t be able to stop me from doing whatever I want.” She leans forward, her voice a low purr. “How does that make you feel? Knowing you’ll have no control at all?”

Your pulse quickens as you nod, barely able to speak, and Wanda’s lips curl up in satisfaction, clearly enjoying your nervous excitement.

“Praise,” you continue, but your breath catches as you add, “and degradation.”

Wanda’s eyebrow arches, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before it’s quickly replaced by a pleased smirk. “Interesting,” she says, her voice laced with approval. “You want me to call you my good girl, shower you in praise for obeying me... but then you want me to turn around and tell you how desperate you are for it?” She leans closer, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous kind of delight. “I’ll give you both and you’ll love every second of it.”

Her words make your stomach flip with a mix of nerves and excitement, and you find yourself nodding again, almost breathless. You hesitate, but then add, “And breath play, I want to try that.”

Wanda’s smile falters for just a moment, replaced with a look of seriousness. She sits up straighter, her gaze sharp. “That’s a lot of trust you’re giving me,” she says, her voice more measured. “You know how dangerous that can be, right?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “I trust you.”

Her expression softens slightly, and she nods, her eyes never leaving yours. “Good girl, you’ll always be safe with me.”

You can feel your body trembling slightly as you push forward. “I want to try wax play, you know, temperature play.”

Wanda chuckles softly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “So you want me to drip hot wax on your skin... make you squirm beneath me as I play with the heat?” she asks, her voice low and teasing. “I can make sure you feel the contrast, the cold right after the burn.”

You shift in your seat, and finally admit, “I’m curious about chastity, and gagging.”

Wanda’s lips curve into a slow, satisfied smile. “Of course you are,” she says teasingly, her voice rich with approval. “I could make you wait, make you ache for days without any relief. And when you finally get it, you’ll be begging.” Her smile widens. “As for gagging... you’ll learn to communicate without words. But don’t worry, I'll understand exactly what you want.”

You nod, feeling your pulse quicken, the tension between you growing unbearable.

“And,” you add hesitantly, “what about involving other people?”

Wanda’s fingers tighten slightly around her wine glass, a flush creeping into her cheeks for the first time. Her eyes flicker with something unreadable, her smirk growing as her expression turns serious. “We’ll see,” she says, her voice softer now, her control wavering for just a moment. “We’ll talk about that when the time comes.”

You take a steadying breath, feeling the weight of the next words. “Role reversal,” you admit, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

Wanda’s smile falters for just a moment, surprise flickering in her eyes before she regains her composure. “You want to take control?” she muses, her voice low, almost considering. “Even just for a moment?” She pauses, her gaze sharpening. “I might allow it, if you earn it.”

Her reaction makes your heart race, a thrill running down your spine. Wanda is sitting completely back in her chair, her food resting on her chair, her arm crossed over her knee as she watches you spill everything that you wanted to do with her. She couldn’t deny how intrigued she was by your willingness to talk about everything, and be so vulnerable in her presence. 

“What about limits honey?” Wanda continues, knowing there can’t be much left that you hadn’t admitted you wanted to do. 

You look down, your heart racing. “I don’t really know my limits,” you confess quietly, “I just want to try everything. No blood, but everything else.”

For the first time, Wanda’s calm, teasing exterior falters. Her cheeks flush, and she squirms slightly in her seat, her fingers tightening around her glass. Her lips part as if to say something, but she pauses, taking a deep breath. “Everything?” she repeats, her voice lower, more breathless than before.

You nod, feeling a surge of confidence as you watch her try to maintain control.

Wanda’s eyes darken, and she leans in slightly, her voice soft but filled with promise. “I’ll make sure we explore everything... but remember,” she murmurs, her lips curving into a dangerous smile, “I decide when and how.”

Wanda leans back in her chair, her eyes locked on you, her tone steady but charged with authority. “First, let’s set some rules. For now, everything stays in this room.” She glances around the space, making the limits clear, her gaze landing back on you. “Whatever we explore, whatever we try, it stays between these walls. This is where you’re mine.”

You swallow, a nervous excitement building in your chest. “Just in here?” you ask softly, almost unsure, though something about the confinement feels safe.

Wanda nods, leaning forward slightly, the intensity in her eyes unwavering. “Yes. Just in here. I want to see how you handle things before we take it any further. Think of this room as our world. Here, I’m in control, and you” her lips quirk up into a teasing smile “you’ll follow my lead.”

Your pulse quickens at her words, and you can’t help but shift slightly in your seat. Wanda doesn’t miss it, her eyes narrowing with amusement as she continues.

“I’ll set a few ground rules.” Her voice is firm, and the weight of what she’s about to say lingers in the air. “First, you don’t touch yourself without my permission. You don’t come unless I say so. Understood?”

Your breath catches. The idea sends a shiver through you, and you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Understood.”

Wanda tilts her head, her gaze softening just slightly. “Good girl. You’ll ask for permission every time, and if you don’t, there will be consequences.” She pauses, her expression growing even more serious. “Do you understand the power I’m giving you here? You have control, too. If something is too much, you say ‘yellow’ or ‘red.’ I want you to be honest with me, always.”

“I will,” you murmur, feeling both nervous and reassured by the clear boundaries.

Wanda’s expression softens just slightly, her eyes narrowing as she explains, “There will be no hesitation or questioning when I give you a command,” She continues, her voice firm, “When I tell you to do something, you obey. No second guessing.” 

Your breath hitches as you take it all in, Wanda watches you closely, her fingers drumming softly on the table, waiting for you to confirm. 

“I understand,” You say, your voice soft but steady. 

Wanda has a playful glint in her eye. “When you’re here, I decide what you wear or if you wear anything at all. Sometimes you’ll be completely exposed to me, other times I might want to keep you dressed for my pleasure. But it’s never up to you. Understood?”

The thought sends a thrill through you, and you agree softly, “Yes.”

Wanda’s smile turns darker. “Time is mine to control. I’ll decide when we’re done, not you. You won’t be allowed to leave until I say so. Whether you’re pleading for more or begging me to stop, the final decision is mine.”

You feel a knot tighten in your stomach, the mixture of anticipation and submission making your skin prickle. “Okay.”

“And finally,” Wanda leans back in her chair, her eyes smouldering as she watches your every move, “you’re not allowed to touch me unless I allow it. You want to touch me? You ask first, and only if I give you permission do you get to. There will be no crossing boundaries I haven’t set.”

She watches you carefully, waiting for the weight of her words to sink in. The idea of not being allowed to touch her unless she says so makes your heart race.

You swallow, feeling a flush creep over your skin as you whisper, “I understand.”

Wanda watches you for a moment, satisfied with your responses. “Do you think you can handle all of that?” she asks, her tone teasing but with a dangerous edge.

You meet her gaze, the air between you crackling with unspoken energy. “Yes.”

Wanda’s smile deepens, and she leans back, clearly enjoying how easily you’re falling into place. “Good. Then we’ll see just how well you follow those rules, won’t we?” At this point, the carefully made dinner had been completely disregarded. Both of you having a handful of mouthfuls between you, your wine basically untouched. You needed her and she wanted you, there was no way you were going to continue eating after that conversation. 

Wanda leans back in her chair, her eyes flickering over you like she’s considering her next move. The soft glow of the lamps casts long shadows over her face, making her look both dangerous and mesmerising. “Come here,” she says, the command laced with promise. The air in the room feels thicker, like it’s holding a collective breath. You stand, and your legs feel unsteady, but you obey, moving toward her.

Wanda doesn’t touch you yet. She just looks up at you, her lips curling into that knowing smile. “You’re going to wait,” she murmurs, her voice like silk wrapping around your nerves. “You don’t get what you want right away. Not here.”

Wanda's eyes never leave you as she sits perfectly still, just watching you. The silence between you is deafening, but it speaks volumes. Her gaze drops down, flicking over your body as though she's calculating every inch. It makes your skin feel hypersensitive, like she’s already touching you without laying a hand on you yet.

“Strip,” she says, the word so calm yet utterly commanding. Your heart pounds at the simple instruction, and your fingers fumble as you reach to unzip your dress, but you can’t quite reach the zip. You turn your back and Wanda takes the zip between her fingers, slowly unzipping the length of the dress, revealing more of the scarlet laced lingerie that you picked for this moment. As you turn back to face her before pulling the lengths of the dress down, she leans further back in her chair, sucking her tongue against her teeth as you reveal your figure tied in lace. 

“You’re learning, already,” she says, almost purring. “This is gorgeous, all for me hm?” You nod, instead of being the same levels of shy that you thought you’d be, you found confidence in your willing submission to the redhead. “What do you want to explore first, let’s start as easy as you want to.”

You hesitate, feeling a rush of nervous energy at the thought of saying it out loud. Wanda catches it immediately, her eyebrow lifting. “Don’t hesitate,” she says, her voice sharper now. “If you want me to give you what you crave, you’re going to have to ask for it. Say it.”

Your breath quickens, and you meet her eyes, knowing there’s no way out but forward. "I want you to make me wait," you say with an unexpected amount of confidence. 

Wanda’s smirk deepens, her approval radiating from her. “Good. You’re finally starting to listen. But not just that.” She stands now, slow and deliberate, stepping toward you, close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from her body.

She’s not touching you yet, but it’s like she doesn’t need to. She leans in close, her lips brushing your ear as she speaks, “You don’t get to come unless I give you permission. I’m going to take you to the edge, and you’re going to beg for it. If you do it right, maybe I’ll let you have it.”

Wanda’s fingertips graze your shoulder, and the lightest contact sends a shiver racing down your spine. She moves behind you, slowly circling like a predator, her touch just skimming your skin, enough to make your breath catch but not enough to satisfy the ache building inside of you.

“You’re already shaking,” Wanda whispers, her breath warm against the back of your neck. “And I haven’t even started.”

Your pulse races, heat spreading through you like wildfire as she steps back in front of you, her eyes dark and commanding. Wanda steps back, her eyes glittering with satisfaction. “On your knees,” she orders, and you drop immediately, your heart pounding in anticipation. She stands over you, looking down, clearly in complete control.

“You’re going to be good for me,” she murmurs, her voice firm but laced with a dangerous softness. “And remember, you only come when I say you can.”

Your breath hitches as you nod, your skin burning under her intense gaze. She smirks, the power in her stare making you feel like you’re already completely hers. “Good,” she says. “Now, let’s see how well you really listen.”

[alexwilltellyouthings]

Payneland/DBDA fanfic recs

I'm celebrating 200 fics (yes I keep count, I'm a nerd) and over a million words read in these 3 months of dbd 🎉🎉🎉

SO here are a few of my all time favorites (trying not to mention too many of the already very known ones):

Joi de Vivre, by olympus_mons

my very first fave, explores Edwin's longing so so well. And the ending, bittersweet and so loving, uGH I LOVE THEM

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wanted to be something (you couldn't put down), by Ink_stained_quills

also one of the firsts, so very well written and great feelings realization with a bit of misunderstanding to make it sweet

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Of a youth who loves me, by Aliquis

ok yes this series is pretty famous but I can't just not mention it. it's so sweet and tender and aAAAAAAAaaa. just go read it. just go.

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job officially jobbed, by vernesatlas

e-rated, so it's +18 only! canon divergent and really just the right fic to follow up the handjob comment. as simple as that. I needed it deep in my bones and it's so fucking hot

---

The Most Tender Place In My Heart, by coloursflyaway

also famous, although not as much as some of the others by the same author, but this is the best one in my opinion. the way edwin is open about his feelings here, the memories painting the whole picture, the way you can see charles working things out, it's so beautiful

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dulcet tones of broken bones, by gremlininthemachine

this one HURTS. it's a lot of angst, let me tell you that. it feels very true to Edwin's character. mind the tags if there's anything you feel is too much for you. I cried several times. it was amazing. the ending is hopeful, but not entirely conclusive, as there might be a sequel coming on. ALSO it's not really payneland centric, but anyway it was maybe the most emotional any fic has made me in a long time

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the ghost of the past that you live in, by ObsessedWithFandom

EXPLORING CHARLES' BISEXUALITY YESSSS I wanted something like this so much! really liked how it was played out, how each experience puzzled itself into his identity. the OCs are great. really lovely all around

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Who? You mean your teammate in the Codependency World Cup?, by RoseGanymede95

this is also a series and I still haven't read the unfinished ones, but the first two are amazing. those are case fics through and through, pre-canon, and I just LOVE their dynamic even if not explicitly romantic, and also the cases themselves and how Charles acts and UGH EVERYTHING, really highly recommend these

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Nothing Left to Hide, by RoseGanymede95

listen this person is incredible what can I say. this is a very needed unpacking of hell's aftermath, mostly about how Charles is doing after seeing what he saw. it's a big hurt/comfort on this one. big on both. ugh so good

Well there's that. I hope you enjoy these as much as I did!

[ectoimp]

Ya know what I find interesting. There are almost no "Lewis lives/is resurrected" fics. Fics where he doesnt die, just swap him dying for someone else dying.

If you go to the "lewis lives" tag on ao3 there are 11 works. All except 2 are actually precave, lewis hasnt died yet or the kind where someone else died instead.

and there are 2 resurrection fics and of those one still involves someone else dying (arthur killing himself specifically)

And yeah, Lewis' death is the inciting incident to the series, but I certainly dont think there are no stories to tell there. I think there could be very interesting character drama there. Especially when you dont have the amnesia thing to make it so no one has to deal with the aftermath

With no ghost induced amnesia, Vivi has to deal with the fact that being the leader, Arthur getting hurt was on her. Lewis getting hurt/almost getting hurt is on her. They went cave exploring with no safety gear. In street clothes (chucks for hiking in a wet cave??). They didnt even have a flashlight. And its seems that no one knew they were going into this cave (since it seems like Lewis' corpse is still there) So they broke every basic rule of caving safety https://www.fs.usda.gov/visit/know-before-you-go/cave-safety

Like even if you dont blame her, I think she would blame herself. And its another thing I dont think I saw explored much. I'd see it get mentioned but usually it would immediately get brushed aside, usually by one of the boys.

But with how unsafe there were being....Lewis could have just died from slipping. No possession required. (obviously the doylist reason is because it would be a pain to design whole new outfits for one scene that was added last minute. They would look super cute in little themed caving outfits tho.)

This started out with just me thinking about "Lewis lives" But now its more about how I kinda want more Vivi angst......

Imagine if Lewis knew Arthur was possessed. If Arthur hadnt been clear he didnt want to go in the cave. Imagine if Lewis blamed Vivi.

[strawberrystepmom]

the one

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

word count: 10k

about: in the aftermath of incredible loss and pain and nearly losing satoru himself, a week long road trip on one of the most famous routes in the world solidifies what you've already known to be true about gojo - he is the one for you & you for him.

contents: nsfw - mdni. established relationship (reader and gojo are engaged), story told through vignettes, major spoilers for ch 220 and beyond although the story is not canon compliant (gojo dies and is revived), major character deaths and discussion of them, descriptions of anxiety, panic attacks, and dealing with trauma, discussions about marriage and engagement, mentions of blood and injury.

gojo has an identity crisis, reader is a teacher and is appointed interim principal of the Tokyo campus, lots of flowery descriptions of nature and of my beloved california (i am not a california girl but i have longed my whole life 2 be one), gojo is referred to as husband, sweetheart, and baby, reader is referred to as wife, angel, pretty, and baby, reader has breasts, small smut scene with sensual and romantic unprotected piv sex, mutual body worship, vaginal fingering, creampie.

notes: if you have made it to this point and still want to read, thank you. this is a love letter spritzed with parfums de marly delina sent directly to gojo satoru from me and i'm very proud of this work.

he's so important to me and i think exploring him when he can't hide behind the veneer of being strong anymore is one of the most worthwhile uses of my time since ever. i hope that you enjoy ♡

wavy divider thanks to @/cafekitsune!!!!

One week.

One measly, little week - 168 hours or seven unique opportunities to see the sun rise and set - is all you’re asking to be granted while promising all but your limbs and hypothetical first born child to the acting principal of both the Kyoto and Tokyo campuses following the deaths of both Yaga and Gakuganji.

Utahime’s arms are folded over her chest and her mouth is set in a firm line while taking everything that has happened over the last month into consideration. Do you guys even have time for a break of any kind? 

Time, as you and her have both learned since that fateful night in Shibuya, becomes more difficult to quantify when you feel it’s slipping away. Every day since October 31st has felt like something each of you have had to earn rather than been given by sheer act of existence. It has been a fight since the moment each of you stepped foot into the railway station and now that it’s over, things feel so undefined. 

What comes next now that the immediate evil is gone? There will always be another threat of danger that appears as soon as one is eliminated and all that’s left of the sorcery community learned the hard way that sometimes that evil proves difficult without the man who has worked tirelessly to keep all of you safe around.

“Please. He needs this so badly and I know if I don’t force him to stop, he won’t.”

Your plea causes her gaze to shift from downward to your face and Utahime’s distaste for the man in question all but disappears when she looks over the concerned furrow of your brow and the dark circles under your eyes. She watched Gojo being whisked away to return to the Tokyo campus, the place where the two of you are sitting and having this discussion, ripped to all but bits but still throwing his thumb up to confirm he’s okay to everyone’s mixed annoyance and amusement. 

Contemplating every aspect of the situation for a moment, she comes to the conclusion that this week is something both of you need and there’s no viable way for her to tell you no. Not when you look so desperate, hands shaking and eyes sunken. 

Despite the mess you will be leaving behind, building debris and rubble the mere surface of the ripples caused in your small community and wider society by Satoru’s defeat of Kenjaku and Sukuna both within days of each other, she feels there’s no other option but to reluctantly give in.

“Okay.”

The tone of her voice is so tentative you’re expecting a but as her very next word but she shuts her mouth with finality written across her face. Grateful, you bow your head and blink back tears but she walks toward you and grabs one of your hands. She squeezes it gently, reminding herself to avoid the spots you broke it in 7 weeks ago and you find the sudden change in her demeanor concerning. 

Did she change her mind? Is he going to have to go from half dead on a cold metal table right back into the swing of things? 

“When you get back, be ready because you’re in charge here.”

The news comes as a shock and she can tell, your eyes widening and hollowing further. Bile rises in your throat and you swallow, blinking additional tears back, ashamed that your weakness is what represents the strongest individuals you’ve ever met and not just the one who your heart belongs to.

Iori doesn’t stick around for long to watch you come to terms with your new position, simply squeezing your hand and patting it with the back of her other one, before dropping it to slink off to her students that stand on the opposite side of the lounge everyone is occupying. 

Shutting your eyes tightly, you use the time to balance yourself and remember that you can deal with the upcoming challenges when you return. What’s most important is the here and now and there are a few things you’re currently sure of. 

First, Satoru is alive and breathing despite the terror you experienced when he was not. Second, you have at least one week to contemplate your own future and in true procrastinator form, you will wait until the last minute to even begin processing the weight of the responsibilities that have been placed on your shoulders. 

“He’s asking for you.”

Shoko’s approach is stealthy and you don’t notice her until she’s pulling a glove off beside you, the snap of the latex making you forget the tidy little list you were creating in your head. She doesn’t look any more morose than usual and you take it as a good sign, awkwardly nodding and keeping your head pointed toward the ground to avoid prying eyes. 

It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know about the two of you but there’s no plausible deniability anymore. No coy smiles and playing it off like it’s no big deal, not when there’s an engagement ring nestled safely in its box on your nightstand at home and when he’s asking for you as soon as he wakes up.

The room is eerily silent as you shuffle out of it beside one of your oldest friends and this is where she finally drapes an arm around your shoulder, stopping you and crowding you off to the side of the hallway. 

“He doesn’t look like himself right now,” she warns and you nod. You expected it, his energy depleted by the time both battles were won, but you still swallow thickly and struggle to get the lump in your throat down. Once she’s certain you are okay, she nods and keeps her arm around your shoulder until you reach the metal door to her domain that separates you and the love of your life.

“I’m going to give you two some privacy but if you need me you know where I’ll be.”

You’re sure she’s grateful for the reprieve, catching sight of her puffy eyes as she turns to walk away. You stop her and she smiles wordlessly, friends for long enough that the two of you know what the other is thinking. 

Thank you, I know, I’m glad he’s okay too.

Pushing the door open you hear an exaggerated groan and a watery giggle bubbles out of you. He just can’t help himself, one arm wrapped securely and safely and the other still oozing through its bandages. His torso is exposed and you can see the blow that killed him firsthand, an unnaturally precise cut across his lower abdomen. 

This is the sight that chokes you up and he chuckles weakly, unable to lift his head more than a few inches. He does look different, covered in scrapes and cuts and blood of uncertain origin, but he’s still himself. Those dimples still stick out against his pale skin when he smiles weakly at you and despite its pinkish hue, his white hair sticks up on end like it always does.

“No crying, baby.”

Sniffling, you look toward the cold tiles below and he tuts from the operating table. Holding his cleanly wrapped arm up he curls a finger toward himself to beckon you over.

“C‘mere.”

Slowly, you do. Each footstep feels as though you’re walking across cracking ice and it makes you cautious, scared that you’ve deluded yourself into believing that he’s here and he’s fine and things are going to be okay and in the midst of the angst, suddenly you remember - he is. 

He’s in front of you and breathing and you can’t stop the tears from falling when you reach the edge of the table, reaching to cup his face in your palms like you always do. 

“Don’t ever do that to me again.”

Another weak chuckle and he wraps his hand around one of your wrists, delicately holding it with his thumb and index finger. 

“Didn’t you say that about the prison realm too?”

Nodding and sniffling, you smile and he smiles back. It’s warm and inviting and all you can think about is how you feared you’d never see it again; that he’d become another loss forcing you to grow colder and colder until the inevitability of becoming a husk like the other sorcerers in your life would come true. 

“Yeah, I guess I did. Maybe I need some new material.”

A chuckle that turns into a wince makes you coo and his half smile instantly turns smug, one corner of his mouth upturned into a smirk. 

“I have always been the funny one, haven’t I?”

Scoffing, you don’t playfully swat at him like you always do and he misses it. The gentle swipe of your fingers across his pec or shoulder or arm to let him know he has entertained you is something he will not take for granted from this day forward. His chest tightens and his loose grip around your wrist tightens.

It hasn’t registered quite yet that he almost never saw you again twice. That realization will come painfully when he’s struggling to sleep some night, wrapping himself around your body to be certain you will never leave his side, as all of his realizations about his own mortality do. 

Until then he’ll embrace the reality in front of him.

“I’m so happy to see you,” he whispers and you see a shadow of sadness cross his face, smirk drooping into a frown. Your palms on his skin leech warmth into his tired bones and he shifts his head to lean into one of your hands, eyes fluttering shut and staying that way until he musters enough humility to say what he wants to say to you the most.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s still the coward's way out but he’s simply too tired and weakened to go into the specifics of everything he’s sorry for. Is strength even worth it if you still managed to save so few people you care about? The weight of the world remains on his shoulders and you carefully lean over him, pressing your cheek to his and shifting your hands from his face to his shoulders. 

“Oh sweetheart,” it’s a nickname you rarely use for him and it makes his heart leap to hear it even when your voice cracks. “You have nothing to apologize for. Never to me.”

He wishes he agreed with you. 

“Well, I am and nothing like this will ever happen again.”

The unspoken truth between both of you is that he said the same thing when he was released from the prison realm weeks ago and yet, this happened.

“You can’t control everything, Satoru.” You lift your cheek from his and glance down at him to see his eyes half open. “Nothing that has happened is your fault.”

Something else he wishes he could agree with. He gives you a small smile and you lean to kiss his cheek, shutting your eyes tightly to keep from breaking into absolute hysterics. You’ve been teetering on the edge for days but you know this is not the time for your usual dramatics, it’s time to hold it together for him like he has done for you so many times.

“But we can and should talk about this more on our trip.”

His half open eyes shoot open and he looks at you with uncertainty etched in all of his pretty features. 

“Trip?”

Currently, he’s in no condition to go anywhere except for hopefully home with you tonight, but a few more hours with Shoko and his cursed energy slowly returning should be enough to get the process of healing going but he knows you know that and wonders what your angle is. 

“Road trip. Very little impact, all we have to do is fly to California and don’t worry, I’ll drive the whole time.”

He smiles and chuckles, reaching to capture your hand in his own and lift your palm to his mouth. Kissing you gently, he sits up a little more now that he’s feeling stronger and you lean on the side of the table.

“How long?”

“I had to practically beg for it but we both have a whole week off. The road trip will be 5 days and we’ll have two days to travel there and back.”

Summarizing the trip aloud makes it feel real despite you having done no work to make it so, eager to see him and how he’s doing before making any solid plans, but you can tell that he’s interested based solely by the look on his face. Still, you worry it’s too soon and too much after everything that has happened.

“Do you want to? We can always hold off and do it another time if you don’t feel up to it.”

He shakes his head and kisses your palm again, molding your fingers to the curve of his face so that he can be held by you for just a little while. Your touch may not heal him physically but it fills the gaps in his soul, the little pieces he has been torn into since October 31st, and he needs it more than he needs another session of energy granted to him from Shoko right now.

“I want to go as soon as we can. Especially if I get to look pretty in the passenger seat the entire time.”

It’s so beautiful to have him come back to you a bit at a time and your heart swells until you’re afraid it’ll burst when you look down at him. His eyes are shut again and his cheek fits perfectly in your palm, just as it always does. 

He lived and now he gets to have a week by your side with no responsibilities. If he weren’t so comforted by your presence right now, certain you are real and tangible and holding him to the best of your ability in his current condition, he would believe that he’s still dead.

“I should let Shoko get back to work,” you say finally and he whines. A little bit more of him comes back with each passing moment and emotion swells again, your eyes burning when they start to well up. 

“I love you,” he whispers and you lean down to kiss him for real, your soft lips hungrily pressing against his dry and split ones for the first time since he left you and came back. It’s familiar and it sends you over the edge, tears breeching your closed eyes and dripping onto his cheek. He laughs, although it’s a bit hollow, and you back your face away from his.

“I told you no crying.”

You laugh and lean in to steal another kiss, his arm wrapping around your body and cupping your hip. The kiss grows in intensity, although it’s more a lazy exploration of each other’s mouths more than it is an earnest makeout session, and his hand slides from your hip to your ass just as the metal door screeches open.

“Save that for when I send him home with you tonight.”

Heels clack across the tile floor and you peel yourself away from Satoru, who keeps his hand firmly cupping your ass, turning your head to see Shoko snapping on a pair of gloves and walking toward her patient. You shoot her a grateful smile and she nods her head, letting you lean in for one more kiss before reluctantly parting.

“Man I love her,” you hear him mutter to Shoko who laughs and shakes her head as you’re leaving. 

“Yeah, I know. You never shut up about it even when you’re half dead.”

DAY 1 - SAN FRANCISCO, CA

Your flight landed three hours ago, 9 hours passing far more quickly than you expected. Satoru held your hand the entire flight and you let him have the window seat, watching clouds obscure the light dancing over his face every time he'd shift his gaze toward the sky outside. Looking at him never gets old, even with a baseball cap pulled over his face to obscure his injuries despite how much they’ve improved since days ago. 

Disembarking and entering the airport felt like going through the motions and you realized while grabbing your luggage that it has felt like that all day. It feels like just going through the motions despite everything and your excitement for the next several days and guilt gnaws at you because of it. Shouldn’t you be living every day, minute, second as joyfully as possible given Satoru is alive and with you? Why do you still feel so bad?

The feeling remains a mystery while the two of you gradually make your way out of the airport and into the cool city lying outside, your rental car already picked up and the keys jingling in your hand as you unlock the door to load everything up. Gojo takes the duties over for you and you smile at him gratefully, heading to the driver’s seat to get settled in.

“You alright?”

He has asked you many times today how you’re doing and your answer has been a polite nod and a smile each time, maybe a muttered “yeah I’m alright” if he’s lucky, but he can tell something is bothering you. Chalking it up to travel anxiety, he slides into the passenger seat and finally takes his hat off, chucking it aside. You watch his wispy hair fall over his face, the dark bruise on his cheekbone finally looking lighter than it did when you left Tokyo this morning and you genuinely smile for the first time all day.

“Hello handsome.”

Satoru chuckles and you laugh along with him, eyes crinkling at the corners. You aren’t sure if it’s exhausted delirium making you feel better but you allow yourself to feel at ease for the first time in weeks, settling into your seat and starting the engine of the mid size SUV that will be your chariot for the next several days.

“Do you wanna go straight to the hotel or did you want to stop somewhere first?”

He hums, thinking, and his stomach growls which gives him his answer.

“Let’s stop and get something to eat.”

You nod, tipping your head toward his phone.

“Your pick. Find a place and I’ll get us there.”

Picking the device up, he smiles at the sight of your face next to his on the screen, matching grins as big as your faces. Hopefully there will be opportunities for more photos just like that one on this trip despite how worn both of you feel right now. 

Even smiling sounds exhausting at this point but he musters one for you, opening the app with a little map as its logo, searching for restaurants near the airport. He wrinkles his nose at the list of chain restaurants and settles on a deli that looks easy to get in and out of, disinterested in a sit down meal. 

He turns the phone in your direction.

“Sounds good?”

You hum affirmatively and press on the screen, a digital voice through the speaker giving you turn by turn directions. You’ve visited San Francisco before and so has he, just not together, and the two of you smile contentedly watching the city roll by and you’ve arrived before you know it, parking on the sidewalk outside of the entrance. He grabs the cap he dropped onto the floorboards and slips it over his head, the bill covering his bruised eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you don’t notice he’s glancing at you until you turn to look at him and his brow is furrowed in concern. You are wound as tightly as he’s ever seen you and he worries this entire trip and the pressure of it is stressing you out more than you already are, the opposite of the desired effect. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, angel?”

Nodding, you plaster on a quick smile and reach for the door handle. 

“I think I’m just tired. I can’t remember the last time I slept well.”

He understands not to push any further despite lingering concern and he opens his door, stepping out into the cool evening and sighing contentedly, stretching his long limbs out. Still a little stiff from his injuries, he waits on the sidewalk for you to round the car and join him and wiggles his arms and hands. 

“You look so cute when you do that,” you mutter with a smile. For a moment, his concern quiets down but your face falls so quickly it comes straight back. Coming to his side, you clutch his hand as if it’s an anchor keeping you sane and nod in the direction of the door. “After you, baby.”

Gladly, he pulls you along with him and the bell over the door dings. It’s a small space and while not packed wall to wall, it’s more crowded than you expected on a weekday evening and you take it in stride, the overhead lighting making your eyes burn after a day spent in mostly darkness. Satoru leans down and kisses the top of your head, inspecting the menu hanging from the ceiling, keeping his mouth pressed against your hair and humming. It’s comforting and you appreciate the gesture, he knows you well enough to be able to tell when you’re struggling, but you can’t focus on what’s happening with the pit in your stomach growing wider by the second.

This room full of people has no idea what either of you have just been through. The weeks of hell, watching the man you love so much you’re afraid it will be your downfall, die in front of you and return like Lazarus himself, your best friend’s death. 

Your hands start to shake and your mouth runs dry.

They have no idea your fiancé just killed the body of a man he loved dearly for the second time or that children he assisted raising both lost their lives in the process. These strangers will never know or understand what happened, their lives continuing as carelessly and freely as they always have, and a lump develops in your throat remembering the responsibilities waiting for you when you return home. 

Your life has changed forever and the world keeps turning, a notion that is suffocating.

It has been years since your last panic attack but you recognize the feeling immediately. The room shrinks and you laugh nervously, balling your fists. Satoru recognizes something is wrong and tries to grab your attention, quietly mouthing words you can’t make out. Shaking your head and blinking, you laugh again and he uses his grip on your hand to gently guide you toward the door. He keeps his steps short and soft to make sure you stay with him until the two of you are able to find a way to slip outside. 

Bending at the knees slightly to come face level with you, he cups your face with your free hand and knits his brows together. If you can't remember the last time you had a panic attack neither can he and he wracks his tired brain to figure out how to make this better. You aren’t asking him to, just for his support, but he has failed to keep you safe and happy so many times he can’t bear to let you fall victim to your own mind while he stands and breathes beside you.

“Come on, let’s get in the car.”

Nodding, you can’t fight the tears anymore and they start to flow freely, dripping down your face and onto the sidewalk below as you let go of his hand long enough to skulk to the driver’s seat of the SUV. Opening the door and sliding in, the door has barely shut by the time you sob aloud, gasping for air and lifting your shaking hands to your face. 

Satoru grasps your wrists with one of his hands and pulls your hands down from your cheeks gently, using his other hand to position your head until you’re facing him. Seeing you like this utterly rends him, his own throat tightening watching you struggle to breathe. Without thinking, he does what he would do for his students in this situation.

“Can you breathe for me?”

Despite how sobs make your shoulders shake, you nod and try to inhale deeply through your nose. It still doesn’t feel like enough air but you panic less once it reaches your lungs, exhaling through your mouth.

“Oh, baby.” He hates that this is the only thing he can think of to say. There has and never will be a point where he’s better at words of comfort than you are and it intimidates him how his blindspots only come to light when people need him the most. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

Without thinking, you blurt out the news you wanted to tell him after you returned home. 

“They’re making me principal.”

His eyes widen and he starts to grin but it dims as soon as he sees more tears fall down your face, your sniffling filling the car.

“They picked the best person for the job,” he comforts and you shake your head, refusing to believe that it’s true.

“They picked the easiest scapegoat. They’re going to kill me just like they did Yaga.”

The people who killed Yaga have been permanently removed from their positions by two of your students, their deaths coming just before Satoru’s battle with Sukuna began, but you still worry about what comes next. The clans now hold all of the power and if they’re angry enough over what occurred, you’re the person who will be on the hook to deal with it all.

“No one is going to do that, I would never let them.”

You sniffle and look away, brows furrowed while tears drip into your lap.

“What if it isn’t your choice, Satoru?”

A dark thought consumes the usually easy going man, his stomach turning. Has your faith in him wavered? Do you think he wouldn’t cut down anyone who dared try to hurt or upset you? 

“Look at me?”

You do, just as you do any time he asks, and he sighs defeatedly. Now your hackles are raised because you’re worried about him, sniffling and reaching across the car for him. You clutch onto his t-shirt and he lets you, the fabric spilling between your fingers.

“I will never let anything bad happen to you ever again.” You’ve never seen him look so serious, no trace of humor to be found anywhere. No glimmer in his tired blue eyes, no upturned lip to reveal a dimple. You know he needs this confirmation and you nod, sniffling and pulling him closer to you with his shirt.

“Do you trust me?” You nod but it isn’t enough, his gaze still hardened. “I need you to say it.”

Swallowing to try and wet your dry mouth, you nod again and sniffle.

“I trust you with everything and I always will.” Another sniffle but you feel more normal, your breaths still coming quicker than usual but slowly steadying with each moment that passes. Keeping his shirt in your balled fists, you sigh and shake your head. “This isn’t about not trusting you, it’s about being afraid of what comes next.”

Now he understands. 

Your faith in him is unshakeable, something you have told him more times than you can count and meant every single one, but the future itself is terrifying. Nobody knows what is coming next, least of all you.

“I know but just like you always tell me, things will work out how they’re supposed to and if they don’t, I will kill anyone who is mean to you.”

Finally, this draws a watery laugh from you and he softens, posture slackening. His stomach growls again and you whine, upset that your own antics prevented him from doing what you two came here to do in the first place - eat.

“I’m sorry about this,” you mumble and he leans over the console to kiss your forehead. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’d rather get room service anyway.”

Sniffling again, you untangle your hands from his shirt and turn toward the wheel, positioning yourself to start driving again.

“Wanna go to the hotel then?”

He nods with a soft smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“Do you want me to drive?”

You shake your head, face looking far less distraught than it did a few minutes ago, and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Will you really kill anyone who is mean to me?”

He hums exaggeratedly to accompany an animated nod.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he squeezes your shoulder with his arm.

“I’m a nice guy, what can I say?”

DAY 3 - MONTEREY, CA TO BIG SUR, CA

The California coastline glimmers beneath the sun and although you’re driving, you keep sneaking glances toward the edge of the highway, eyes widening every time something beautiful comes into view. You may as well keep them wide open, constantly amazed by the world surrounding you even as it breezes past while you drive.

Day 2 went off without a hitch for the most part, no panic attacks or the like occurring, but you noticed this morning that Satoru seemed quiet. His usual exuberance has been missing from your conversations, instead dimmed down into something that feels like an imitation of the man. You understand this is part of the process of coming to terms with everything that happens but you feel guilty, as if your outburst is keeping him from feeling comfortable enough to be himself.

It could also have nothing to do with you but it’s easier to blame yourself than it is to think about anything else that could possibly be bothering him, your tendency to fall on your sword even worse when it comes to him. The devotion he gives you is returned in full, your natural instinct always to keep him happy and away from anything that could hurt him as unfair as it can be to do so. 

You can’t protect anyone from sorrow, it comes as naturally as the waves wash up on the shore below you, all you can do is witness it unfold and hope it doesn’t become a tsunami.

The two of you have been driving in comfortable silence for miles, occasionally oohing aloud at the cliff sides, but it has become less comfortable now that you’re thinking about how it has been like this all day. You try to think of something to talk about but come up short, focusing on the road, and he captures your attention when he speaks.

“I saw them, you know. When I died.”

You raise your eyebrows but don’t look at him, keeping your focus on the road.

“Did you?”

Satoru nods and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, carelessly sticking his hand out of the small crack in the unrolled window. It isn’t big enough to let the chilly winter air through but it’s just wide enough for him to feel the wind at 40 mph with his Infinity off. 

“Yup, they asked me about you. How you’re doing.”

He doesn’t have to say who he saw but you know, gut churning. It’s unlikely that Kento would ask, given you were one of the last people he saw before meeting his fate but Yu and - as painful as it is to even recall his name sometimes - Suguru would. 

“What’d you tell them?”

“The truth.”

Raising a brow, you focus on the road ahead of you and drum your fingertips idly against the sides of the steering wheel hoping he’ll elaborate on what the truth actually is. The silence sits heavier than you’d like it to and you open your mouth to end it but he beats you to the punch, head tipped back against the seat he’s sitting in. 

“Told them about us and that we’re going to get married.” You smile and he watches your cheek curve, mirroring it with one of his own that fades quickly while he continues speaking. “Told them you’re probably doing pretty badly because I failed to keep you safe. That you have been dead already.”

Shooting him a glance out of the corner of your eye, it’s hard to convey exactly how his words affect you while navigating a vehicle down an elevated single lane highway. 

Sometimes he forgets what it’s like to exist vulnerably. You’ve always been the wall between himself and the world, the place where he has allowed himself to soften and take down all airs, but now he wonders what it would be like if he extended that beyond just you. Other friends, what remains of his family, his students. He could never fully give himself to anyone the way he has to you but it’s something to consider while he spreads his fingers and lets the wind blow through them.

Does he deserve any of this?

He didn’t keep you safe. He didn’t keep Megumi or Tsumiki or Nobara safe. He failed, yet here he sits by your side, cold air chilling the tips of his fingers. In an instant, he feels nothing, turning his Infinity on wordlessly and keeping his gaze locked on the trees rushing by his window while you consider what to say to help him right now. 

“It has never been your responsibility to keep me safe, Satoru.”

He chuckles humorlessly and swallows so thickly you can hear it even with the sound of air entering the car through the cracked window. 

“For my entire life, my only purpose has been to keep people safe. If I can’t do that, what can I do?”

Glancing at the road, you spot the shoulder and decide to pull off to the side, parking and turning on your lights. Satoru has been wordless and still for longer than you’ve ever seen him and your heart breaks imagining how he must feel right now. 

The weight of the world is a heavy burden to carry and he has done it since before he could form full sentences, a fact you forget because he wears the responsibility as though it’s a cloak he can shrug off at any time, but you know that he takes it far more seriously inwardly. His life has been wrapped up in grooming him to be not simply a protector, but the protector, the gatekeeper of the insular society the two of you are a part of.

“Look at me?”

You ask just as he asked you to do two days ago and he does, the quarter turn of his head giving you an actual view of his face for the first time all day. He looks better than he did yesterday, scratches and bruises healing far faster than they would otherwise as he restores his energy. His eyes meet yours for a minute and you catch the shimmer that means his Infinity is turned on and you look away from him to compose yourself. 

His carefully crafted facade has shattered at his feet - he’ll always be The Strongest but his weakness was exposed in the form of bleeding out, severed through the middle, on a battlefield. What is he supposed to do now? 

Your eyes turn toward him once again and you sigh though it holds nothing but concern and you unbuckle your seatbelt to shift your body until you’re facing him, knees pressed against the center console. He half smiles and chuckles to himself seeing you move and get comfortable but it dies as quickly as it came, his head still pressed to the headrest while looking directly at you.

All you can do is help him pick up the pieces and figure out who he wants to be now that he has the ability to choose. 

“You know I don’t love you because you’re strong, right?”

He shrugs.

“I’m sure it probably helps.”

“No, Satoru. I love you because you make me laugh and cry and get angry sometimes. You let me be myself and never ask that I be anyone different even though I’m sure it would make your life easier if I were less stubborn and set in my ways.”

Getting choked up, you stop yourself and his eyes stop shimmering, Infinity off. He reaches across the center console and holds your hand, smoothing his thumb over the back of it and feeling the puckered wounds that are becoming eerily smooth scars. Swallowing, you blink and will yourself to keep it together until you get through what you have to say.

“I love you because you are courageous and that has nothing to do with your abilities, that’s who you are in your heart. You care so much despite how little you try to show it and your devotion goes deeper than the ocean and you are loyal and…”

Trailing off, searching for the words to sum up how you feel about him, he squeezes his hand and you see a peek of him in the soft smile on his face. Tipping his head to the side, he widens his eyes.

“You forgot handsome.”

Despite being near tears, you laugh and he feels warmer just listening to it and witnessing the grin he loves so much spreading across your face.

“You are the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on, even when you’re a little scraped up, don’t worry about that.”

Despite how difficult you have been to understand throughout various points in your decade long relationship with the man, he knows everything you’re saying is true or else you would not say it. You are too honest at times even if it’s sugarcoated to keep from hurting feelings but he knows you give him the most vulnerable form of yourself just as he does for you. 

He scrunches his nose and turns toward you, unbuckling so he can shift his body to face you. 

“Those sound like vows. Have you been practicing?”

Shrugging, you play his question off with a wry smile because he caught you. You still feel teary but blinking keeps any from coming and you idly play with his fingers and allow yourself to indulge in romance despite the heaviness still lingering between the two of you.

“Not necessarily practicing, just trying to figure out how to put how I feel about you into words because I don’t think the words I need exist.”

An arched brow is his response and you roll your eyes, tilting your chin toward the ground to hide your smile. He doesn’t want to coax anything additional out of you but the relief he feels knowing you still want to marry him despite everything that has happened is almost as comforting as the first breath he took waking back up after being healed enough to keep going by Shoko and Yuuta. 

He would be doing you both a disservice if he let you off the hook completely, though.

“So you still want to marry me?”

You scoff, lifting your head to look at him with a raised brow that mirrors the one he just gave you.

“Please. I’d marry you right now if you wanted.”

“Then do it.”

Opening your mouth to speak, you stop when the words won’t come, and he fills in the blanks for you.

“Let’s get married right now.”

“Satoru, we are in a car pulled off to the side of the road on one of the most famous highways in America.”

“So?”

At least his mood seems to have improved, the mischievous glimmer back in his eyes as he looks at where your hand and his take turns smoothing over each other. The two of you are always so sync even if you don’t realize it, seeking one another out like air, and you inhale sharply to keep from getting emotional once again.

“Okay. How do you wanna do it?”

He grins, shrugging.

“I guess we just say it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you shoot at him despite the smile on your face and he leans across the center console to kiss you. It amazes you just how many different types of kisses this man can give you in the span of a few minutes, going from silly to sweet to sincere to sexy, but you’re grateful to be on the receiving end of each one. Your lips mold to his perfectly, no longer split and cracked the way they were a few days ago, and he pulls back from you with raised brows and meets your eyes.

“And you’re my wife.”

For as unceremonious as the event of apparently becoming his wife has been, you feel a rush of heat to your face when he says the word in reference to you and the way his gemstone eyes are gazing into yours tells you that he means it. You are his wife and as far as you’re concerned, just saying it is enough, you can worry about the rest later.

“Does that make you my husband?”

Smiling, he tips his head and leans forward to press his forehead against yours.

“I sure hope so.”

And so it begins, the rest of your trip as makeshift newlyweds, your heart pounding at the realization that this means forever. This is the commitment to one another you’ve both been anticipating and scared to make, you spent years running from him because you knew this was the only outcome, but with noses touching and two sets of eyes blinking at one another it has never been more apparent that you two were meant for this, for each other.

DAY 6 - MALIBU, CA - POINT DUME LOOKOUT

The final day of the trip has passed by at lightning speed, your flight leaving from LAX first thing in the morning. It feels correct that you’re spending your last few hours on some of the most beautiful soil on earth watching the sunset over the horizon in Malibu despite the cool air of the January day. The ocean glimmers and you can’t help but gasp in awe at what you see, feeling like a proverbial goddess staring at the open land below you.

“This is beautiful,” you mutter and Gojo joins your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He has a blanket and spare jacket tucked under the other, something to keep you both warm after the sun fully sets and the air grows colder.

“Almost as pretty as you.”

Rolling your eyes, you swat at his chest and suddenly every piece falls back into place. The past five days have been exactly what he needed to find himself, to return to who he is and who he wants to be, and it thrills him to think for even a moment that he may someday feel completely normal again. It won’t undo the things that have happened but it will help him make sense of them.

“Ouch,” he mutters playfully and you laugh, pulling the blanket out of the crook of his elbow and placing it on the ground below with a flourish and a shake of your hands. You instantly sink to the ground below, crossing your legs and sitting back with your hands bracing you. Satoru follows suit with an easy smile, sunglasses covering his eyes despite his facial injuries now being mostly gone. 

Sighing, you tip your head upward and let the sunlight warm it. 

Things are going to be okay, you tell yourself with an earnestness you couldn’t muster a week ago. This is exactly what you needed.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, contentedly watching seabirds drift by in the distance, but you sit up and turn to face Gojo, smiling wistfully watching the sunset on his features.

“You wanna know what I’ve been thinking about lately?”

He hums at your question, nodding emphatically.

“Of course.”

Turning your face back toward the sunset, you recall a moment you have been thinking about since the moment it happened, the night he called you his soulmate. It was in the thick of an emotional evening after a long day, the two of you indulging in some pillow talk before falling asleep. It was so easy for him to say, as if he never assumed anything else could be true. 

“Years ago you told me you’ve always known it was going to be us and I brushed it off as you running your mouth,” Satoru fakes offense at your words but you smile wistfully, shaking your head and looking down toward your crossed thighs, the sun suddenly becoming too bright to keep gazing at. “But it’s not a coincidence it has ended up being us two, is it?”

You feel guilty for leaving out Shoko and Utahime and the other friends and students you have met along the way but he knows better than anyone what you mean. He smiles back and captures your hand in his, your palms pressed together while watching the sunset over the Pacific Ocean, cold winter waves lapping at the jagged rocks below the cliff you sit on. 

“Add clairvoyance to my list of skills because I called it, didn’t I?” Humor mixed with unwavering honesty, one of the things you love the most about Satoru, peeks through his every word and you feel so full of love it’s hard to do anything but finally stare at him, eyes squinting thanks to the last bright remnants of daylight. “Even back when you thought I was nothing but a pest with freakishly long arms I knew it had to be you.”

Giggling, you think back to those days that were a practical lifetime ago. Time seemed like it was endless, stretching on and on forever in sundrenched days lounging in the courtyard grass at school, and you assumed you had endless amounts of it. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, it’s all the same when you know you have theoretically at least six more decades to live. 

You were reckless with your feelings and even more so with those of others back then, the man next to you a frequent recipient of annoyed eye rolls and scoffs. He knows he deserved them all even if he gives you a hard time about them now, his boyish determination to impress you gradually buffing away your edges until none remained. 

To the uninitiated, it may appear he tamed you, buffed and smoothed you into perfection equal to his own, but anyone who matters knows better. Satoru remade you, as being loved unconditionally does to anyone. He loved you when you were scowling and spitting and swiping, refusing his friendship and certainly his affections, and he loves you now with your palm pressed against his while you gently breathe in brisk ocean air wrapped in his coat.

“Thank you for never giving up on me.”

He pulls you closer, chin resting on top of your head as it always does. No response comes and you don’t need one, content to listen to the soft puffs of air leaving his nostrils that ruffle the top of your hair. Weeks ago, you weren’t certain you’d ever hear them again. Now though, the mix of the roaring waves and his breaths and his heartbeat pounding against your back catch you off guard and you start to cry, a tear trailing down your nose. 

“Don’t do that. No crying.”

Despite the tears, you laugh. It’s impossible to do anything but when he looks down at you with his head cocked, a little mocking pout on his lips. Leaning up, you kiss him gently and he hums into it, thumb reaching to swipe the stray tear off of your cheek. Leaning back from him, you sniffle.

“Just a little? You know how I am.”

He shakes his head. How can he ever deny you anything? You’re his life, his reason, his world. His one.

“Okay, a tear or two for my little crybaby but that’s it.”

Whatever tears were welling up dissipate quickly when you start laughing and it wows you how it seems like everything is truly back to normal. The two of you glancing at one another like lovesick teenagers, the same as you did ten years ago, the same as you will for the rest of your lives.

“You were right, you know. We are soulmates.” 

He grins.

“That’s not something I hear from you often but I’ll take it.”

DAY 7 - TOKYO, JP

The 9 hours back home felt far longer than the ones passing on the way there but after a blissful week and an easy flight, you are home and you are clean and you are comfortable in your own bed.

Spread across the mattress in nothing but a towel, you listen to Satoru hum from the adjoining bathroom while he brushes his teeth, running water mingling with a song that kept playing on the radio during your trip that has been stuck in his head for four days. Giggling, you wonder if he knows you can hear him or if he’s truly in his own little world.

“Turn the water off, it’s wasteful!”

You playfully shout into the bathroom and you hear the water cease but the humming continues. He’s well aware that you’re listening and it’s glorious to see even more of him come home - his happiness returning and stabilizing over the last few days. You worried at the beginning of your trip things would never be the same and they won’t, of course, the losses you’ve both suffered more than any one person should have to, but they will feel good again and already do.

Speaking of feeling good, your husband (who is very insistent that you call him this despite no legal documentation of your marriage existing) saunters into the room with a towel low slung on his hips and you can’t help but let your eyes roam over every part of him. His arms are no longer bruised and scuffed, back to their defined and pristine glory. The face you know every contour of is back to normal as well, nary a trace of anything happening in the first place, but curiously - he isn’t devoting any energy to heal the scars across his torso. Small silvery slashes and the big one where Sukuna split him into two remain visible.

Your mouth waters watching him dry the ends of his hair with a towel and it’s no longer satisfying to merely look, you need to feel; to touch every piece of him to ensure he’s still here despite having done it many times over the last several days. Every touch will be like this for the rest of your life, you think, making sure he’s whole and real and yours.

“Come here,” you nod and tilt your head, flipping from your back onto your stomach and swinging your legs in the air behind you. Gojo hums, raising his eyebrows and sliding onto the bed next to you, leaning onto his side and propping his head up with a hand.

“What can I do for you?”

You giggle almost girlishly, fluttering your lashes for no particular reason other than to let him know that he still has the ability to fluster you a decade together later. Tentatively, you reach toward him and trace your finger over the scar through the middle of his torso, the flesh smooth and pearlescent.

“Keeping that one?”

He shrugs, looking down to see your single finger become an entire palm pressed against his abdomen, your fingers tracing small paths across his abs and chest. The muscles beneath your hand tense with each touch and you pull yourself to your knees, crawling across the bed to kneel beside him.

“Maybe I’ll get rid of it eventually. I have the choice, you know?”

That he does and you nod, understanding. Your hand continues to travel over his chest, smoothing over each of his pecs and your core flutters excitedly when your hand travels from his upper torso to the lower portion, fingers sliding beneath the knot of his towel. 

He looks over your body, the way that your tits are pressed together and spilling over the towel secured over them, eyes trailing from your cleavage to your shoulder where a jagged and angry scar of your own sits. It’s from an attempt to dismember you in Shibuya, to cleave your arm straight from your shoulder, yet you don’t let the fact that it’s there bother you a bit. 

Satoru’s cock starts to harden under his towel merely looking at you and you smile watching it come to life beneath the cotton covering it, pushing him backward and flat onto his back so that you can straddle him. Discarding your towel, you drop it on the floor next to the bed and lean over him, chests pressed together while your knees rest on either side of his hips. 

“Hello there,” he teases and you laugh, leaning down to kiss him and bracing your forearms on either side of his head. There is no time wasted on gentle kisses, opting instead for the type that sear as you pant into his mouth and feel his bulge pressed against your bare cunt. You grind against him, the friction from the towel over his cock making you whimper, and one of his hands finds your hip to hold you steady while you make yourself feel good. 

“You like that, baby?”

Humming affirmatively to his question, you drag yourself across his covered length for only a moment more and choose instead to sit up, giving him a full view of all of you. This is a sight he has been blessed with more times than he could begin to count but every time it feels like a gift, your breasts swaying as you steady yourself. His hand slides from your hip to your waist and even higher, thumb and index finger pinching your nipple and making you tilt your head back and moan.

“To think I almost never saw this again,” he mutters to himself but you hear it, leaning forward enough that your face hovers above his. You kiss the side of his jaw and he groans, cock so hard the towel has shortened by several inches while it fights to sit against his stomach as gravity intends for it to.

Kissing further down his jaw and his neck, you rest your face in the crook of his neck for a moment and sigh dreamily. You're already soaked, ready to slip him inside of you at any moment.

“To think I never saw this again,” you repeat back to him and sit up, reaching behind you to unknot his towel and push it off of his hips, looking over your shoulder and groaning at his pretty pink tip resting against his belly, glossy with precum. You look down at him with a slight pout, leaning in to kiss him while running your hands over every inch of his body that you can.

“Look at you, Satoru. You’re so beautiful.”

He’s no stranger to your compliments but he flusters a bit anyway, chest turning pink as his face heats up. His white lashes flutter as he looks down at you, your mouth pressing kisses into his neck and warm chest. You scrape your teeth over his nipples and it makes him whine, bucking his hips and pressing his heavy cock against your pussy.

"Fuck baby," he mutters, hissing when you press your hips down against him, the wetness seeping from you coating your lips and his shaft in return, your hips gliding easily over him. Your mouth remains occupied, pressing kisses lower down his abdomen and over the scars he hasn't yet healed. It's your responsibility to remind him that every single piece of him is as lovable and stunning as ever and you take it seriously.

"I need you."

The rasp in his words makes you smile and you nod, ceasing your kissing and straightening your spine so that you can press your tits against his chest again. There is zero space between your bodies, just how you prefer it. He reaches for his cock and groans, wrapping his fingers around the base, abandoning it to brush his fingers over your wet cunt.

"All that for me," he marvels, two digits sinking into you with ease and you arch your back slightly, letting him spread you open while grinding your hips down against his pelvis, the direct contact of his body on your clit sending sparks through you.

"Just for you, handsome," you smirk against his neck and he crooks his fingers inside of you, brushing the spot he knows drives you wild. You moan and he pulls his fingers out of you, your cunt clenching in protest only for him to immediately replace them with the girth of his cock, your walls stretching to accommodate him.

"Feels so good," you whisper and he hums, hands coming to your hips to keep them steady while he thrusts upward into you slowly, sinking himself to the base methodically, shallow thrusts pulling him nearly out of you.

He's greedy though, undeniably addicted to the way you make him feel, and keeps enough of himself inside of you that you are unable to even begin to miss the way he feels. Your walls clench around him, keeping him secured inside and your hips grind lazily despite his grip on them.

The pleasure is mind numbing but you keep yourself alert, moaning softly while he throbs inside of you. More lazy thrusts met with slow and passionate grinding make you moan on unison, lips finding each other. Moaning into each others mouths, occasionally brushing tongues and kissing, you're overwhelmed with nothing but pure love knowing you have this to look forward to forever.

Forever sounds like a long time but you can't think of any better way to spend it than with your Satoru.

"You gonna cum baby?"

He asks and you nod, your walls gripping him tightly. His thrusts speed up, the sound of skin on skin filling your bedroom. The mind is a powerful tool and despite this being quite possibly the least active sex the two of you have ever had, you're so in love with him your body does what it does naturally and that's cum around his cock, clenching and pulsing to let him know how much all of you loves all of him.

"I love you," you babble against his mouth and he chuckles. "I know baby, I know."

Your hips still and you let him hold you in place, his back arched as he thrusts fully in and out of you, his own release slowly coming over him. His eyes flutter shut and he stays buried inside of you, ropes of his cum filling you and seeping out around the base of him, dripping down onto the towel below him.

You don't say a word, sinking into his chest while he softens inside of you. Talking feels unnecessary when your body itself says so much but the big mouth is back to normal so the blissful silence doesn't last for long.

"I love you too, by the way."

At least he's being sweet.

Giggling, you kiss him and wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, clinging to him while he moves from your mouth to press kisses into your hairline.

"So," he starts and you look up, hovering off of his chest enough to look him in his eyes. "When are we telling everyone that we're married?"

"Let's make it legal first, yeah?"

He pouts but it is replaced quickly with a wry smile and you sink back down to rest against him, cheek pressed into his collarbone. The news surely won't come as a surprise to anyone but you want to make sure it's set in stone before letting everyone know.

"Let's go first thing in the morning."

His eagerness makes you laugh but you acquiesce, knowing there's no excuse to wait. You spent enough time fighting off the inevitable that for once, you're glad to just sit back and enjoy the ride, especially when you're enjoying it by Satoru's side.

[curly-my-beloved]

Lowkey hate most of the Anya x reader fanfics (even though there so few) because they always make her weak and shy.

I kinda get it if it takes place after the Jimmy incident, that shit is traumatizing, especially if you’re in a relationship during it. (I would know)

But instead of really showing the horror of it all, the disgust, anger, fear, and the feeling you cheated on your significant other, even though you obviously didn’t, they kinda just make her meek and sad.

Not saying that you don’t feel sad during the aftermath of something so traumatic, you feel a whole bunch of mixed up feelings, but it just pisses me off that it isn’t really explored that much.

(Back to what I was originally saying)

But oh my god, does it make me upset when its supposed to be on earth, before the Jimmy stuff, and they still make her all timid and reserved.

Just because that’s how Jimmy sees her doesn’t mean that’s who she truly is.

From the little things we get to know when we’re out of Jimmy’s perspective (and the facts Wrong Organ gives us), that it’s very obvious she isn’t normally like this.

She’s determined, funny, knowledgeable, competitive, and empathetic, she is so much more than just a "victim" and the way Jimmy sees her.

ANYWAYS, I was bored and wanted to rant about this, I’m not actually that upset over the way people perceive Anya’s character, it’s more of just a random irk of mine that I dramatized. (´−｀)

I doubt any sane person would so through all the trouble analyzing a character from a random indie game like I did, probably something I should talk to my therapist about. *sigh*

-🦴🎀

preach, actually.

[ashen-char]

you like that? 🔞

ship: max fox (better things) x gender neutral reader

warnings: explicit smut, discussion/exploration of kink, exchange of power

summary: max doesn't like being treated too softly. so she tells you just how she wants it

word count: 1900+

notes: ok so i got asks abt max smut like this and this and clung to this idea of it being soft/fluffy. inspired by this ask about power bottom!max and this about bossy max. there's a lot of ideas in these i wanna explore more too!

"You're too sweet to me," Max says. Usually, she tells you this with a smile. The gentle treatment was nice. Different. From dating all the wrong guys that only wanted her for her body, being so obviously liked was a blessing.  But today she says it like she's noticing something.

"Yeah?" You sit up, hand holding hers as you lay on your futon together.

"Yeah."

Laying in the afterglow of a particularly satisfying session of making Max fall apart over and over with your mouth, you're still a bit hazy. 

How am I meant to help it, you think, when she's so adorable?

Lifting her hand up to your lips, you kiss it all over, from the back to the meat of her palm. Max laughs. She stretches her fingers when you reach them, enjoying your simple affection.

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" you ask.

"It's not what I'm used to," Max says, giving a small sigh. "That's what's weird."

Searching for the truth in her big brown eyes, you can see how in conflict she is with herself. She likes it, you both know she does. Max enjoys your romantic gestures, swoons at the cheesy compliments and affection even if she swears she's too cool for it. Your girl is softer than she'd like to admit. But there is an honesty in what she's trying to share with you.

"Don't think that I don't appreciate the..." she pauses, trying to find the right words. "The softness. I do." Max affirms this with fixing your hair as it falls over your face, tucking a stray strand behind your ear. "I chose you."

"Sure," you say. Nodding, listening like always.

Max is an angry person. Passionate and rough around the edges, never pulling her punches. You take the time to think things through. You'd never want to hurt someone you love and yet Max thrives in these yelling matches, her whole family getting into fights and being closer in the aftermath. It wouldn't be far fetched to think that she'd like some of that in her romantic relationships too. That she'd feel uncomfortable if it was too easy. If she was the only one bringing that heat.

"I should mix it up sometimes? Be a little rougher?" you ask.

"Yeah. Yeah." She nods quickly, almost too quick, like the very thought of you using a little more force excites her. Then Max bites her lip. A flush goes over her cheeks, suddenly embarrassed with admitting that.

Before you can react, she turns from you, grabbing a pillow and hiding her face in it. "God, I sound so thirsty," Max groans, words muffled.

You chuckle. If anything, she sounds cute. She's ashamed but honestly that's a huge thing you like about her. Max always knows what she wants. "That's not a bad thing, come on," you say, taking the pillow away. "You can tell me anything. You know that."

She pouts up at you. It's like Max wants to melt your heart on purpose! Those full pink lips could get you to do anything. How dare she complain about how well you treat her when she's being so cute that you wouldn't dare do anything else? Leaning in, you kiss that pouty expression away.

"I'm being ridiculous," Max whines.

"No, you're not!" Another kiss, this time to just her bottom lip. When she juts it out like that, you feel the urge to bite it. "I wanna hear!"

"It's like you're not interested." Before you have the chance to refute that, Max puts up her hands. "I know that's stupid! But, like, when we're you know-" she makes some vague hand gestures. You think it's funny that she swears like a sailor but is embarrassed to say the word sex in front of you, even if you've literally been inside of her an hour ago.

"Uh huh," you say, encouraging Max to keep going as she hesitates.

"You're soft. And slow. Until I tell you to give it to me," a flush. Max immediately hates her choice of words. "Until I make you go faster. And it's nice sometimes. But sometimes I feel like I need you to touch me or I'll die. And the fact that you can go slow is like you don't feel the same? You don't need me the same?"

Ah. Probably not the time to kiss her then, even if she's so kissable when she's moody. You don't want Max to feel insecure. You two simply have different ways of showing that you want each other.

"Sure. I get that." You do like touching her, and you think Max already knows that so you don't bother saying it.

Max feels an urgency when it comes to your more physical moments, while you're all about affection even then. You like leading her through the pleasure, giving her more and more. And those preferences have clashed. When you slow things down, something in Max wants to snap at you. She has before, actually. It was hot.

"I just-" Max's jaw clenches. It's hard being so vulnerable. "I hate that I feel like I need to push you to see if you actually want me. I don't want to push you, but sometimes it's like you don't even care."

"Max." You sit up.

You hate that she's beating herself up over this when in reality, the times you've been most excited has been when Max has taken control of the reins. When she's told you to go harder, or faster, or to pull her hair. You hate that you haven't communicated that well and that your girlfriend was left wondering if she was bossy and made you do things.

"Hey, look at me," you say, tilting Max's head up with your finger under her chin. "I like it when you tell me what you want. It's so hot."

"Really?" she asks. There's a hope to her voice, an eagerness now that she knows she wasn't ever pushing you to do something.

Max melts into your touch like she can't help it. She thrives under your assurance and care. It's part of why you're so sweet to her. But sometimes, and now you know it for sure, even a girl as sensitive as Max needs some rough loving. You'll let her tell you when that is.

"You're so sweet that I felt bad asking you to do certain things," she admits. "Every time it'd hurt, I was loving it, but I couldn't say anything because you'd slow down if I told you."

She's right - if you had known that you were hurting her, you probably would've stopped things right in its tracks to check on her. "It's alright if you like that. What gets me off is when you're feeling good," you tell her. "And if that's something that gets you off, I wanna do it. I'd do it all the time."

The thought of hurting Max on purpose doesn't appeal to you, but pleasing her sure does. You could get into it if that's what she needs. And the few times she's asked you to rough her up - to give it to her harder, grip her hips tighter, spank her harder - you've actually liked it.

As you're thinking about that, what you'd be willing to do and not do, Max shifts. She tilts her head back so her throat is exposed, a silent invitation, a gesture of vulnerability. Asking you to get aggressive with her. That invitation breaks its silence when Max says, voice raspy now, "bite."

When she tells you what to do, the mood in the room instantly heats up. No longer are you two expressing your desires for future intimacy, because the intimacy is here and now.

Your hands go to her waist, eyes staying on hers. A quick nip to her exposed pulse point as you test if this is what she meant. You pull Max closer, a moment of hesitance as you silently ask if this is alright, if you're finally fulfilling what she's wanted all along.

"Harder," Max whispers. Her shiver and that breathier tone tell you all you need to know. She wants you to make a mark on her - something to remind herself that she is so so wanted. Of what she has with you - that it's real. "Bite harder."

Max pushes her body into yours when you go in for the next bite. Higher up, more to her throat. You adore the idea that she's letting herself go, finally asking for what she wants and knows that she can get it from you. The pleasure that she's clearly getting from you listening ignites a spark in you, confirming something you always knew.

"That's it, baby," she whispers, a little breathless. You can tell Max is getting wet - she's clenching her legs together to give herself some friction. "You know just what I want, right?" She runs a hand through your hair. "You just want me to tell you."

And you do. You bite your way along her throat, leaving red marks along her delectable flesh where her neck was pale, untouched. Anyone seeing Max would know that you did this. These are your teeth marks on her skin, it's your mouth that's making her shiver and moan. Her hand tightens on your hair, guiding you down now.

Lower, and lower still. You find yourself with your head between her legs, tongue lapping away at Max's most sensitive spots. She cries out demands and praise in equal measure. "Yes, there," one moment and "fuck, don't you dare fucking move," another.

There's no guesswork now, not when Max is being so vocal about her needs. When you've got her pretty little clit between your lips, she tells you to suck so you do. When you're licking along her slit, Max tells you to flatten your tongue so you do. When she's quivering, cumming, soaking your mouth and chin and you think your job's over, she tugs you back to her cunt.

"Tell me you love this," Max breathes out.

"I love this," comes out of your mouth so easily. Not one to give up, your jaw might be aching and your tongue tired, you'll stop when Max tells you to. "I love this pussy. You taste so good, Max."

Hungry. You eat it like you're starving and God does Max dish out commands like she's been power hungry for forever. Both of you seem to like it better like this. Max could tell you to do anything right now.

But you dare to give her one command of your own, as your fingers are shoved deep into her cunt and your tongue flicks against her clit. "Come for me."

She convulses. Your pretty girl melts into you one last time, panting and gripping to your hair for dear life. "Fuck, baby!" Max really is so adorable. When she breaks, her body wracking with ecstasy, it's like you're the one feeling it. 

"Kiss me, please," Max says, less of a command than a beg now.

You surge up from your spot between her legs, smashing your lips against hers. Max can taste herself, you know, and that makes it that much hotter. Her sweet tang is addicting. You'd fuck her with your tongue for eternity and say thank you to her for letting you. 

She bursts into giggles and you can't help but laugh along with her. "I think I could get used to this," Max says. "I should boss you around more often."

"Mm, I'd like that." You lick her wetness off your lips, excited for the next time already.

✦ pt 2 here! ✦

[luna-mad-talks]

Dear Ao3 Wakfu writers...

Please please please please rise up and write for these troupes:

• Yugo with his wings. Now that ss4 ep11 has brought us Yugo being so freely out with his wings I think we as a fandom can write so much shenanigans with them. Someone in the brotherhood giving him head massage and trying to navigate with the wings being sensitive/fluttering, nightlight, them betraying Yugo's emotions even more visibly than his hat ears, Yugo stimming and the wings flapping wildly or just people asking can they touch them and describe what the wings feel like as well as how Yugo feels about this interaction after years of hiding them aarryGGjiinuguercb

• Aftermath of Torture. Yeah okay you can not be telling me ss4 ep9 wasn't torture? Anyways Yugo be riding that war adrenaline but I'd like to think this affected him moreso than he'd thought and after things settled he has to have some long comfirting talks and hugs (and snuggles) to resolve his feelings. Hurt/Comfort

• Body dysmorphia! The transition of his small form to his much bigger one is violent as hell but I'd also like some fics exploring on him feeling trapped/uncomfort in his younger body and finally feeling okay after he grows up :D

• Wedding fics :D (That has "No Yugo you can not wear this to your own wedding I don't care if you made it out of your own wakfu")

• Feral aldult Yugo >:D

• Protective Yugo with Amalia now that they are King and Queen with a whole lot of aldult duties

• Yugo being a dork still (his older expressions are so cute !!!!???!!)

• The Eliatropes being eldritch because I'm a honest sucker for the unnerving entities troup

• Powerful Yugo and people's reactions to him

• Introspection on him and his Mom because wow she just up and left huh (I mean I partly understand,,, but still)

These don't need to be super groundbreaking or plotty or even 100% accurate to the series or anything long at all I just need more Wakfu fanfics please

[gossippool]

I've fallen hard for poolverine and I've read and loved your fic, do you have any fic recs you can share pretty please?

hi anon i do indeed!! i've been meaning to do a rec list eventually so thank u for asking. here are some fics out of the 14 i have bookmarked

twice upon an odyssey by lkst (E, 6k)

It would be tempting to say the propensity for physical violence in their relationship is gone, but nothing is created or destroyed, it would seem. While the urge to kill each other has faded it’s translated into tension between them hot and wet enough to grow orchids, and it’s taken the willpower of gods to keep them from fucking nasty about it. They're managing. The thing is, Wade doesn’t want to manage anymore. Wade drags Logan out on a little heist hoping to finally get him to make a move.

one of my favourites!! this is mostly smut but also some of the best characterisation of wade i've ever read and SO FUNNY. i giggled through the whole thing. sometimes humour in fics falls flat but not this time

deadpool/wolverine series by farmhandler (11k + 46k+)

i feel like recommending this series is a must tbh. only two fics in here so far and the second one is still updating but both are just. SO good. the first one is more wade-and-his-issues-centric and the second is more logan

tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow by signifier (E, 10k)

The one where Wade gets stuck in a time loop, and he's determined to get Logan out of it alive.

time loop fics are so hard to execute well and this was just perfect. typical emotional toll of being stuck in a time loop is taken on wade so there's Angst

movin' out (deadpool's song) by jenniferlawrencelover (E, 36k)

Wade wasn't fond of change. Both in the life sense as well as the coin sense. So they might have to move houses? Okay. Sure, his tummy hurt a little more than usual when he thought too hard about it, but he could move past that. Would move past that. Eventually. Probably. Most likely not. Probably not at all. Wade didn't do change.

GODDDD i love this fic. it is so gorgeously written i think i have some parts screenshotted which is how you know it's good. brilliant exploration of both wade and logan

where soul meets body by edgebug (E, 34k)

In which something very interesting happens underneath the Time Ripper, and Wade and Logan deal with the aftermath.

no idea how to explain this but their minds kind of get intertwined??? ish?? and it's so fucking good the writing is just impeccable. angst and smut galore

guess by handfulofteeth (E, 16k)

Logan stops talking. He’s mid-chide, tossing his soiled paper towel onto the counter and about to reach for another one when his eyes land on Wade. He’s got his pajamas halfway down his thighs, clearly trying to avoid sticking his fingers all over the gooey fabric, and whatever, that on its own isn’t a big deal...What is a big deal, a huge, massive fucking deal, is what Wade’s wearing underneath his pajamas. Panties.

now this may seem like it's mostly smut and you would be right. but it is goddamn good smut (with a dash of angst) and just such an alluring read. their other fics are also just as good