#that even comes close to this temperament

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Thirty-Nine: By The Six

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

There are six deities that most, if not all, of Olera worships. ‘The Six’ watch over the world and everyone on it. But, their responsibilities did not start with the life that litters the world.

In the beginning, it was much simpler than that. 

Four deities ruled the elements.

Osren controls the winds that blow through the trees, kicking up leaves and spores to spread wildlife all throughout the lands. Sailors sing his praise and always carve his sigil into the hulls of their boats for his good graces.

The calmest of the gods, he comes and goes, just as the wind does. His soft spoken nature often leaves him in the middle of arguments he wants no part of. 

Davita, the water goddess, is often seen to his right. Her sigil is oftentimes carved directly next to the wind deity’s as well. The two of them are attached at the hip in every legend and fable. Even in ancient drawings, you will always see Osren and Davita standing side by side. 

It wasn’t a romantic relationship as far as the Olera-dwellers are aware. But, it was not strange to see them depicted as such in pieces of art and stories. 

Mostly everyone saw The Six as siblings. But, there are always outliers. 

Besides, Davita was too busy with her own duties to be romantically involved with anyone, especially another deity. She controlled the land’s natural waters– the sea, rivers, ponds, lakes, streams, all of them fell under her control.

Her temperament was almost as even as Osren’s, but there are stories of her losing her calm demeanor to souls who have done her wrong. 

The only deity she loses her temper with is Ralios, the god who rules over fire.

They have your typical fire versus water relationship, but at the same time they’re just as close as a brother and sister would be. They loudly pray for each other’s downfall while also silently wishing the other nothing but good fortune.

Because they both know they would be nothing without the other.

Ralios has the exact personality you would expect; he’s loud, explosive, snarky, and is the quickest to anger out of every one of the deities. Sometimes in old legends, it appears as though he disagrees with others just for the sake of being different and difficult. 

That behavior went unchecked for a while as all four of these deities created the world we know: Addran.

Akthar is the deity who rules over the entirety of terra. Everything natural and alive falls under his umbrella. He always takes on a more fatherly role with all of the other deities. Some like to depict him as a tired uncle who is sick and tired of wrangling his nieces and nephews. 

Most other legends like to portray Akthar somewhat like the older brother whose parents left him in charge until they get back. In some moments he knows what he’s doing, but in most, it’s all an act and he’s winging every single decision he makes.

With the help of his siblings, Akthar created Addran for them all to play with.

For a while, Addran simply existed as a space for the four siblings to play in like a sandbox. Osren could experiment with wind speed, Davita could let her water flow where it wanted, and even Ralios had a grand time crafting volcanoes with his brother. 

They all loved crafting and creating new and interesting things to decorate their world.

The very first thing that Akthar created solely for himself was an Elf. A small, gentle, beautiful creature that loved the world just as much as Akthar did. And when that first Elf got lonely when Akthar wasn’t around, the terra deity made another Elf, and another, and another until the forests were full of them.

These beautiful, nature-connected beings in which Akthar could communicate with through the rocks and the trees were all over the world. The Elves thrived in areas that were more densely populated with plant life, it’s where they felt more connected to the deity that made them.

Akthar raised them to be herbivores, only eating the natural fruits and vegetables that were grown out of the soil that he personally fertilized and made rich with vitamins and minerals. He made sure that no Elf ever went hungry; they were always happy and healthy. 

The Elves worshiped Akthar in ways that he almost got a bit shy about. He did not want to be seen as a benevolent god to them, he simply wanted to be a provider, a teacher, a mentor. He wanted to teach the Elves everything he knew. 

And while Akthar was busy tending to his pets, Osren, Davita, and Ralios all watched with piqued curiosity. Their brother was having so much fun playing with these little creatures that ran barefoot through the forest. They watched him teach them which berries to eat and which to stay away from.

He taught them to stay away from poison ivy, but also that snow weed can be chewed up and used as a paste for wounds. 

And the siblings watched.

Eventually, curiosity can turn into jealousy.

Why can’t they have little pets in their lands? They want creatures of their own.

“ Fine then ”, Akthar said.

And as a true older brother would, he gave each deity their own little pets.

For Davita, he created the most diverse biome imaginable. He gave her so many different forms of creatures that thrived in water. Anything that he could stir up in his beautiful brain, he gave to his only sister. Some creatures were hostile, some were calm, others varied in between, but he gave her that gift.

For Osren, he did much the same. Akthar crafted animals that loved flying through the air just as much as him. He knew how much the wind god loved to feel that breeze on his face, so he wanted his little pets to have that same love for the sensation. He gave them all wings so that they may share the love of the air. 

It took a long time for Akthar to think of what he could create for Ralios, his most explosive little brother. He saw how much Ralios seemed to like watching the Elves, but he also knew that his little brother liked having a sense of responsibility. Ralios liked being placed on a pedestal of sorts.

So Akthar created Man– who, in many ways, were just like Elves. But they needed a lot more tending to, a lot more special attention. Man needed more coddling than Mer.

The day Ralios gave Men fire was the day Akthar saw his little brother’s face light up for the first time. The fire god craved the attention that Men gave to him.

He truly became their god in every way. He became everything to Man that Akthar did not want to be to Elves.

At first, Men had diets much like Elves did: fruits and vegetables. But, Men did not seem to crave the peace that a forest brought them like their sister race did; no, Men liked building their own homes and quite liked being by the water.

None of the four siblings thought anything of it until one day, one man ventured out to the water and caught a fish. He stayed still in the water until a fish swam by his feet and then he stabbed a sharpened rock attached to a stick through the creature. 

Now, there’s much debate in legends about if Ralios told the Man to do this in order to make Davita mad or not. Some scholars will say he absolutely did, while others will say he is blameless. It all depends on who you ask.

But, when that man brought that fish back to his campsite and roasted it over the very flame that Ralios taught him how to create, his mouth began to salivate. The smells that came from the fish were absolutely intoxicating and something you just couldn’t get from a fruit or vegetable.

The moment he took the first bite, Men were doomed.

Something happened to the magic that flowed through the entirety of Addran when Man tasted another form of life. After Man tasted life, their immortality was taken. 

Ralios watched that first man eat that fish, and another fish, and another, and another until his family and their descendants ate it too. Word spread throughout Mankind about how absolutely delicious fish was, how it made them stronger, healthier, and able to perform better in every aspect. 

They could lift heavier objects, they could work longer hours in the field, everything seemed to be better after they began eating fish. And if fish tasted this good, do other animals taste that good as well?

Do chickens taste as good? Pigs? Cows? They absolutely did.

But, slowly but surely, Men began to wither and wrinkle and age.

There is much debate on why this is. What makes animal life different from plant life? What damned them? If Akthar made them, how come he can’t just make Man immortal again. But, even gods can’t explain everything. 

The first Man died in front of Akthar and Ralios’ very eyes. And the two deities watched as his soul left his body and then… hovered. It was such a strange sight. The soul continued on with its daily activities; it went down to the water and walked along the beach, it went back to the home where it grew up, it floated around its children and grandchildren.

But none of the other Men acknowledged the soul, they could not see it. Only the siblings could. 

Pain and despair came off the soul after a while. What good is going through a world surrounded by life only to be ignored by all?

After some time, the next Man died and the entire process started again. More sadness and more despair came from them. Every single moment of it hit Ralios in the heart.

He begged his siblings for help. What could they do? What could they possibly do for these souls who are leaving Addran?

Well, if they could create one world, couldn’t they make another for these poor souls?

So, they did.

Utrium is where all Men hope to go when their souls leave their bodies. It is where their ancestors reside. It’s where all those precious souls go once their lives on Addran are over. 

The four siblings worked and worked to create this world. They wanted it to be something even better than Addran, they wanted it to be a safe haven for these tortured souls so that they can rest easy after their departure.

But then the question is raised afterwards: Do all souls deserve to go to Utrium?

The short answer is no.

Much debate went into this, the siblings argued about it for eons on end while souls continued to stray on Addran. From all their bickering and arguing, without realizing it, the four deities created another, harsher, more foul world for all the darker souls to go once they have left their bodies. 

Ytrium.

Most of Addran refers to Ytrium as The Void. Souls do not really reside in Ytrium. It’s not really a physical place. 

It’s seen as more of a bottomless pit of sorts. There’s no living or residence in the void. If your soul goes to Ytrium, you no longer exist. Your soul is consumed entirely and you are no more than a memory until the last person on Addran forgets you. 

It’s cruel and terrible and not at all what any of the siblings had in mind for their creations but it was no longer in their hands anymore. Once something is created, it cannot be destroyed, that is the nature of the universe they reside in. 

None of the siblings look upon The Void favorably. But at the same time, Utrium was too much for any of them to handle.

Also, who are they to decide what souls go to Utrium and what souls go to Ytrium? 

That’s when they decided that two more deities needed to be created. But these two deities need to be on the same page about everything. They can not argue, they need to always see eye to eye, different sides of the same coin.

Akthar turned to Osren, his calmest and most soft spoken brother, and he asked him to assist with this– and his brother happily complied.

One entity was created by taking a piece of Osren’s soul. And then Akthar split this entity in half, thus creating Uddos and Ytris. 

They are identical twins in every sense of the word. The two of them are perfect, they are always in agreement, and they always do their job. Neither of them ever complain about their respective jobs or cause a fuss.

Legends like to depict Ytris as evil, as an imposing deity who takes pride in sending souls into The Void, and the Uddos is a perfect angel-like creature who never raises his voice.

But that cannot be further from the truth.

They’re both even tempered, perfect, content deities who rule judgment over each and every soul on Addran. 

These are The Six. The Mighty Six. The Holy Six. The Great Six. 

There are six deities that watch over and protect their precious souls on Addran.

And every single one has abandoned you. 

------------------------------------------

A strong, iron grip on your hair yanks your head backwards out of the large vat of water it was shoved in. Immediately, you gasp for air, the water cascades down your face and into your eyes which you can’t wipe due to your hands being bound behind your back.

“Let us try this again.” Seungmin’s voice sounds so different. It’s cruel and sends a chill down your spine. It lacks all the warmth you’ve grown to love.

You’re too busy gasping for air to notice how his hand loosens in your hair. 

“You are one of Bang’s court members, yes?”

No answer comes from your mouth. When your lips part, coughs and sputters fill the air. Your knees hurt so bad from kneeling on the stone in front of the water basin. 

The brown, murky water that he keeps shoving you into was clean when he first started. All the filth that now floats within it came from your own body.

He roughly jerks your head to get your attention. “Yes?” he repeats in a gruff tone.

“Rot in the Void,” you spit out and you swear you can hear Seungmin curse under his breath before your head is shoved back into the water basin.

There’s only just enough time for you to suck in a gasp of air before you’re plunged back into the filth below you.

This is the fifth time your head is submerged and you’re already feeling your spirit begin to shatter. 

Both of your hands clench into fists as you’re held down. Every single time he plunges your head down into the water, Seungmin manages to rip you out right before your lungs start to burn.

He’s doing this on purpose, you know this. If this was a different torturer, you would be gagging and begging for mercy already. But, right now, in this strange, demented, cruel twist of fate, you’re not the only one being tortured while your head is underwater.

Again, when you’re yanked out of the basin, you take a huge gulp of air and then quickly exhale, the water from your lips spraying out into the cell.

“You are not holding her down long enough,” Allerick says from off to the side. His voice is moving behind you as he circles around your body.

“It is plenty long given how broken her body is,” Seungmin replies to him. You can hear the reluctance in his voice, it’s a tone that you know but Allerick does not.

“All you are doing is giving her the first bath she has had in weeks.”

“We do not want to kill her.”

“Obviously. But your method is not working, Skye. She still has too much fight in her.” Allerick’s voice comes up right behind you. The heat from both men’s bodies radiate down to your brittle bones. “I thought you were an expert.”

“I am,” Seungmin growls back.

“Your methods are not working.”

“Did you think she would crack within the first five minutes? She killed half your battalion herself.” 

Allerick scoffs. “As much as I would love a show. We need information, and we need it now.”

“I told you I will get it.”

“Then prove it. Break her.”

Seungmin’s hand twitches in your hair before it tightens more.”In due time, Allerick–”

“No. Now. I need information now. ” Allerick interrupts him with a loud command and Seungmin’s hand yanks your head back sharply.

A hiss pulls from your lips at the sting and before you can even think twice, you’re plunged back into the basin.

Why is he so pressed for information? What deadline has been created for Erbus that he desperately needs you to talk?

Time ticks by and eventually your lungs let out the air that they were able to suck in before you were shoved down. The bubbles come out of your mouth and nose and pop at the surface.

It’s about thirty seconds in when your lungs start to burn.

It’s ten seconds after that when you realize that he truly has to break you now. Panic starts to set in– a natural instinct to being drowned.

As if you weren’t already broken enough.

Every single one of your limbs start to go cold, the lack of oxygen quickly spreading through your body. Instincts kick in and your body attempts to sit up. Your feeble muscles begin to push against the binds around your wrists.

Seungmin’s hand twitches on your head. He wants to yank you up just as much as you, but he can’t . You can practically feel his desperation in the way he’s gripping your hair.

Your body convulses under his hold, your shoulders shaking and chest sputtering. Underneath you, your knees jerk so violently that one slams into the metal. You want to scream, you want to move, but his hold is so firm.

Mercy. Mercy! Mercy! 

Every single one of your muscles spasms violently as you fight your natural instincts to inhale water. But it’s to no avail, your mouth opens and you gulp down a mouthful of filthy water.

That’s when you’re yanked from the water.

The sludge you inhaled is immediately vomited back up into the bin. Tears stream down your face as you cough and vomit and try to breathe at the same time.

“I will ask you again,” Seungmin’s voice wavers at the end. His hand is shaking in your hair. “You are one of Bang’s court members, yes ?”

Once everything is vomited back up, you’re coughing and heaving. The only reason you haven’t collapsed forward is because the rogue is holding you up by your scalp.

You can’t even form words, so you simply nod, drool and saliva drip from your lips.

“There it is,” Allerick says under his breath.

“Now that was not so hard, was it?” Seungmin hisses. “Now, let us start here: as a court member, you have access to the battle plans, no?”

You stay silent, your eyes slowly opening and staring blankly in front of you.

“Maybe you did not hear me.” Seungmin shoves your head down towards the water, not plunging you in yet, but close enough where you can now smell the horrid stench coming out of the water basin.

Not only does it have the filth from outside your body, but also inside.

An involuntary whimper comes out of your chest as you try to recoil away from the water basin.

“If you really did not want to go back in, you will answer the questions, Y/N. Plain and simple.”

Your energy is fading, your eyes are unfocusing on their own. Even though you’ve been plunged into water, your mouth is incredibly dry. 

Opening your mouth, you say the only thing you have energy to say.

“Fuck you.”

Allerick scoffs. It’s the only thing you hear before you’re underwater again.

The fear grasps your heart much quicker than it did last time. You would think after experiencing it once, you would be less afraid, but no, your body begins to shake and convulse much quicker than last time. 

You’re held down even longer this time. When the water enters your lungs, it has a moment to really sit in there before Seungmin takes you out.

Again, you vomit and cough and sputter and heave everything out of your body.

It burns.

By the Six, it burns so fucking bad. 

When did you start sobbing? 

Wails leave your throat as you cry and heave forward over the basin.

Now you’re sure that Seugmin’s hand is shaking in your hair.

“E-Enough…! Please!” Hyunjin’s voice cries out from the corner. It almost sounds like he’s sobbing too. Really, you had forgotten he was in the cell with you.

“Shut it, dagger ear!” Allerick barks at him. “Unless you want to trade places, I suggest you shut your filthy fucking mouth.”

Your chest is still heaving when Allerick leans down close in your ear. “Answer. The questions. Y/N.” His voice sends a chill down your spine. It curdles your blood and feels like poison in your veins.

Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. You’re already drained. They’ve only been at this for an hour, at most. But you can feel every single ounce of life drained out of your soul.

“Be a good girl for us, little mouse, and tell us exactly what we need.” He talks to you softly now. You watch his entire face soften and change into what you remember it looking like. The look in his eye is what you used to see every day when you were a youngling.

All those days under the sun in the back of the Fighter’s Guild come to mind. The feeling of his larger hand tightly clasped over yours as he teaches you how to hold a sword. The meals you two used to eat together at the wooden picnic table. 

“Come on, little mouse, do it for me.”

Would it be so bad to just give up?

Is any of this really worth it? What’s the point of hanging on when they’re just going to kill you anyway? If they kill you, you won't ever have to see Chan’s disappointed face when they find out you caved.

“Tell us who your allies are, Y/N.”

You blink slowly at Allerick. He’s still looking at you like you’re a child.

When you were a little elfling. And he didn’t even know it. That’s when the thought hits you: what would he have done to you if he found out you were an elf? What sort of sick torture would he have enacted upon an innocent, little being?

The very thought boils your blood. It stokes the dying fire within your soul. It creates a small spike of energy that you intend to use. 

Gathering all the saliva in your mouth, you quickly spit it directly into his face. 

Allerick recoils back. His face quickly twists and morphs into one of pure hatred . It’s a face you’ve never, ever been looked upon with before. It makes your heart stop.

He stands up quickly, wiping your spit from his face. And in one instant, he slams his boot down on your ankle. 

A scream tears out of your throat as the bone is snapped in half.

Allericks’ hand grasps the back of your head, replacing Seungmin’s and he shoves you back into the water, your body still writhing in pain and screaming in agony.

You don’t have the place of mind to not inhale the water. It happens instantly and every single movement your muscles make from that moment on is completely involuntary.

Convulsions and spasms wrack your body as you inhale water. The burning sensations from before are nothing compared to now. It’s like your entire body is on fire, right down to your fingertips.

In the distance, you can hear voices screaming at each other. 

The spasms begin to slow down as your body finally gives up. The hand on your head remains firm, but eventually, you lose all fight against it and your body falls down completely in the water as your mind blanks out.

If you’re yanked out of the water, you don’t know it. 

------------------------------------------

The burning, searing pain in your ankle is the first thing you notice. The second is the whimpering and crying coming from somewhere else in the room.

“Really? You are not going to tell us either?” 

Your brain won’t work. It;s like you’re coming out of the world’s longest nap. 

The floor underneath your slumped over body is so cold. Your body is on it’s side; underneath your face it feels wet. And it smells absolutely horrible.

“I-I am not telling you anyth- AH! ”

The scream is preceded by a snap! The very sound sends a chill down your spine and brings you further out of your stupor.

A cough tears through your chest and after a second, vomit is choked up with it. Acting on it’s on, your body turns over and you gag up water, spitting it onto the floor.

No one in the room seems to pay any mind to you.

Tiny sobs and pleads come from the center of the room.

“We will stop when you tell us what we need to know. Now, tell us who your allies are.” Each work is punctuated by the sound of punches.

More cries fill the cell. Your heart twists. No response comes out, only sobs and begs for mercy. 

After a few seconds of silence, one of the two men sigh. “We are not getting anywhere, Skye.”

“They are stubborn corpses, I will give them that.”

Skye. Seungmin. Skye. Seungmin. Skye. Seungmin.

Allerick. He’s with Allerick. Gods, you’re so confused. Why does everything feel difficult? You’re in a jail cell. You’re being tortured. You were waterboarded. 

It sounds like Seungmin turns and looks at you. Your body has already collapsed back down in the pool of your own tears and vomit. Your chest is heaving up and down, breathing in air shakily.

“I need a break. The smell in here is making me want to vomit,” Allerick grumbles and his boots walk towards the cell door. “Lock them back up. We will have to try something different.”

“Fine,” Seungmin grumbles and waits until a door opens and closes before it sounds like he falls to his knees in the middle of the jail cell. A short sob leaves his lips that he quickly muffles with his hand.

You have to give him credit. You would not have been able to keep it together if you were in his position.

“Hyunjin.. Hyunjin..” he chokes out. There’s some more movement within the cell.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin response shakily. “Check— Check on her. I am alive. Please check on her.”

There’s shuffling in the room and suddenly you’re enveloped in warmth. A trembling body lifts you into their arms with equally as shaky hands. You have no control over your muscles, they just feel like dead weight on your body.

“Y/N,” Seungmin sobs out. “Open your eyes, mercenary, please. Please open your eyes.”

A coughing fit crawls up your throat. Seungmin acts quickly and turns you on your side just in time for you to vomit once more.

He grips you tightly, you can feel his body shaking as he sobs. “Oh, gods, I am so sorry, Y/N. I am so sorry. Six, please forgive me, Y/N, forgive me,” he rambles on and on with apologies. 

After your stomach and lungs are empty, he rolls you onto your back once more.

“Please, Y/N, open your eyes. Please, Six, please,” he begs with a hoarse voice. His fingers are gripping onto you so tightly, you’re sure it’ll leave bruises in your fragile, thin skin.

With strength you didn’t know you had, you crack your eyes open just enough to look up at Seungmin’s sobbing face. His eyes fly around your features, taking everything in. His hand comes up and cups your cheek.

Once you two make eye contact, he begins to cry even harder. “Y/N, please forgive me, please. I did not want this, I did not want to do this plan. It– It is only going to get worse. You have to start answering the questions, Y/N. Even if they are lies , you need to answer them!”

Gods, your ankle is positively throbbing.

“I should never have agreed to this, The Six know I am not strong enough for any more of this.”

His face should never look like this. He’s crying harder than you thought was possible for a man like him; someone who always has a knowing smirk on his face. No, no, it shouldn’t be like this. He should be teasing you.

Shakily, you bring your hand up and hold the one he has on your cheek.

Words won’t come out of your throat right now, but more is conveyed through this little grasp than anything you could possibly say right now.

Seungmin’s lip quivers and he rubs his thumb over your cheek, letting his built up tears from the day pour out and down his cheeks. 

There’s no other way anymore. 

He needs to do this. Hyunjin needs to do this. You need to do this. 

Right now, it’s the only way out.

“Just a few more days, Y/N, I promise. Hang in there, you need to hang in there. Live, Y/N, live. Please. You can do this. Live.”

[kedreeva]

My setup today at the reptile expo!

I will definitely say, the Sunday shows are not as good as the Saturday ones. We'll probably be skipping Sunday ones from now on. I did hand out a lot of business cards and brochures today, though, and made a good impression on a lot of people. I even had one person drag her family to my booth after she handled a mouse, and we were able to work out trading in the mice her niece bought from someone else for some of mine instead.

I KNOW we changed some minds today, because there were several people who made disgusted faces until I started talking and they meandered close enough to see someone holding a calm, sweet mouse. Absolutely LOVE hearing "I never knew a mouse could be like this." I had one pest-control guy stop by and explain that he kills mice for a living, but he wanted to hold a live one that was calm and he kept quietly saying to himself "it's so different/it's so nice." I had so many people ask me "how much do you handle them to get them this tame" and be surprised the answer is "I do not handle them, this temperament is bred into their DNA." I had a lady who just... broke, standing there with a mouse laying in her hands calm as could be, and she said very quietly "do little kids hold these?" Just mystified.

I've learned now to say that they won't jump or bite because they are bred for show and have to be able to sit in a judge's hand without jumping or biting, and for some reason the judge part of this just clicks the info for people? Like I always say no they won't jump or bite, but they don't always believe me... but I say a judge has to be able to hold it? Every single person was like "oh" and just relaxed about it. Suddenly it's just like: Ah, Yes, this is a Professional Mouse.

Someone from my old job showed up, and didn't recognize me, though I recognized them. When I mentioned it, they said they'd left, too, they only "lasted" two months. I said I was there twelve years and they were like HOW and it's like my dude (neutral), I entered a fugue state in 2010 and quit the job 12 years later I guess. They ended up taking 2 mice home.

At any rate, I had fun as always. We have another one Saturday, so I'm hoping to sell the few that didn't sell today, and to bring a few more that weren't quiiiiite ready to go today. I wish the tricolors would get their act together and start breeding better, because I would LOVE to offer more of those. The siamese are working on it, which is great because those ALSO sell fast. But alas, I cannot make the mice go any faster than they want to go.

[eupheme]

— tooth and nail

alpha!logan x mutant!f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dub-con (logan goes into a rut), a/b/o-lite elements (logan-only - ruts/knots/mates), breeding kink, mutual pining, two jealous dummies, size kink, fighting as foreplay, return of The Claws (claw-play?), outercourse, biting, marking, come play, rough PiV sex 

a/n: pure pwp. reader has druidic-based mutant powers (wild shape, strong connection to nature/animals, influence over vines/foliage) and is from Earth-10005.

Logan knows this feeling. He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

Should have told you no. Should have locked himself away like he always did. Instead, he’s stuck, unable to keep his mind from wandering while his sparring partner - sweat-dewed and squirming - is pinned beneath him. 

(Or - Logan’s rut begins at a most inopportune time)

Something wasn’t right.

It’s been settling under his skin for days now.  Tiny hooked claws, digging into flesh. A syrupy urge low in his guts, his mind not quite his own.

He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

The world he lives in now is different. There’s humans, mutants, aliens. But none like him, answering to something innate that defined him in a way that didn’t matter anymore.

It’s been a while. Almost forgot how it felt, after years of tamping down this part of him. Should have recognized sooner what it was. This rippling, simmering irritation just beneath his skin, so much stronger than usual. 

Should have locked himself away, when he realized his rut was returning.

In his years in his own Earth, the urge had lessened. Dulled by alcohol and grief. Managed by himself, in the few months this part of his nature did visit him.

But he hadn’t been able to tell you no. Hadn’t been able to resist, not when you smiled so prettily at him, practically begging him. 

And the thought of you leaving him behind at the X-Mansion, while you went off without him - to spar with Hank, instead - made him want to rip McCoy’s arms off. 

Desire swirls around him now, as he trades blows with you. Your arms snaking around his shoulders as you shoulder a well-placed hit, bringing you both down the floor.

Logan feels like a pup again, watching your breathless laugh. The clench of your thighs around his waist. The heady throb low in his guts, the pressure of his cock as it strains against his suit. 

His hips lift, separating him from you. Trying to form an excuse, while his brain is rocketing into overdrive.

Fighting back the urge to close that gap again. To peel down those tight leggings that drive him mad, bury his mouth against your pussy and make you scream. Fuck you full of him, until he’s dripping out of you for days. 

The though makes him growl, as he tries to concentrate.

Tough to fake an illness, or injury. You’d see right through him.

Or even worse, worry.

So all he had to do was finish out this session. 

Shouldn’t be too hard. 

If you can just avoid touching him… he might just make it through. 

You know you shouldn’t let yourself get distracted like this while sparring with Logan, but you can’t seem to help it.

Not when you’ve been nursing this thing inside you for months now. Something planted from another earth, settling low in your chest. Infesting like the vines that sprout from you, taking over until you’re fully ensnared.

You’ve tried to ignore it. Didn’t want to ruin a good thing between you. 

Out of everyone in the X-Mansion, you got along with Logan the best. Used to a solitary lifestyle after being raised among the druids, before you knew the truth to what you were, the mutant lineage that flowed through you.

It had paired well with his temperament. His anger and grouchy quips slipped from you like raindrops on a leaf. Something about spending time with you softening him at the edges - just a little bit.

He was still the hard man he used to be. Grizzled, with that scowl of his and the flecks of grey at his temples.

And despite your efforts - forgetting and moving on hadn’t been successful. Not at all. 

Because it’s impossible to ignore when he’s close, like this. Pressing your back to the mat, your wrist slammed against the padded floor. A knife skittering away, because even after all this time - even with his insisting - you were still reluctant to use it.

It sends your pulse racing. He’s so fucking strong - and you think that maybe, even if you had been an equal pair, that you’d still throw these matches. 

Let him win, if it gets him like this. Sweaty and pressed up against you as you struggle beneath him. A thigh jammed between yours to prevent you from slamming your heel into his calf.

You’ll think about this later. 

You always do after your sparring sessions. You hand slipping between your thighs in the shower after. Bitten-back moans as you play out more in your mind - the plunge of your fingers inside your aching cunt until you’re shuddering with the pulsing pleasure, slumping back against the cold tile. 

The fantasies always comes back to him. 

You think that maybe Logan wants it too. Have felt his gaze on you when he thinks no one is looking, but your senses have always been keen. Animal attraction, perhaps. Pheromones. Something about his smell, his touch, beckons you - though you don’t understand what it means. 

And it’s only now that you realize he’s gone still above you. Eyes blown wide, a sharp breath of air inhaled through clenched teeth. A low growl, caught in his throat. 

Holding himself back. You can see it - the way his muscles string tight. How his eyes dip, flicking over your face. Down to the part of your lips. The sweat that dews your chest. 

Close enough that you can inhale him - the smell of leather and cigar smoke blending with more - something inside you giving them a name. 

Want. Need. 

It gives you courage. 

You bridge the gap, for a just a moment. A shallow lift of your hips. Encouraging, the movement pushing your tits against his heaving chest. 

“Bad fucking idea, sweetheart.” He growls.

It’s rough, low. Ground-out as if to himself, a wounded sound slipping from his throat. 

His response has a mark forming between your eyebrows. A soft murmuring of his name.

Logan’s face dips, eyes closing as he inhales. Then, without warning, his knuckles cradle against your throat. 

Wrist flexing as two of his claws spear forward on either side of your neck. Punching through the training mats and sinking deep into the concrete beneath.

Pinning you completely under him, your hips dropping as your free hand wraps around his forearm. A tug of fear ripples through you, but he doesn’t budge.

“Logan,” You repeat, gasping, “What are you doing? What’s wrong?

This isn’t like the times you’ve sparred before. He’s never drawn his claws. You don’t heal like he does - you both know it. Never using more than a loose fist, an open palm in your sessions. 

He’s breathing heavy. Holding himself over you, his other hand still wrapped firmly around your wrist. 

“I’m gonna let you go.” It comes out ragged, through clenched teeth.

“And then I need you to leave, and lock me in after.” Only now does he look at you - his dark eyes burning, “You understand?”

His voice is so rough that it makes your skin prickle. Heat licking down your spine, stoking the embers that have settled low in your belly. 

“I don’t.” It comes out hushed.

How can you? It’s like a flip has been switched, in those few moments. Did you truly misread everything? 

His eyes haven’t left your face. There a peek of his tongue against his lips, the words coming slowly, “Don’t wanna do something you’re gonna regret.”

And for a moment, time stands still. An ache in your chest that’s so different than the one between your thighs. Finger unfurling, reaching.

Slipping up his arm, touching his cheek. He flinches, eyes fluttering shut as he holds his breath. 

“What could I regret with you?”

If it were anyone else, the question would be stupid. You should be running from the man that has you pinned to the ground, claws drawn. Another twitch and you could be dead - the middle unsheathing to pierce clean through your soft throat.

“Whatever it is, let me help you.” Your voice is gentle - coaxing -  and for a second, he leans into the touch. Palm pressing against heated skin, and you gasp, “You’re burning up, Logan.”

“You can’t help me with this.” He rasps with his eyes closed, voice strained. 

Your head shakes, “Let me try.”

A long pause lingers. The room filled with the uneven intake of breath. Logan’s words coming slowly, as his eyes open - dropping down to your throat. And then away, like he can’t bear to even look at you, “Does the word rut mean anything to you?”

It feels like something stirs again inside you. The flutter of wings, not unlike the feeling when you tap into your power. Like threads slipping your fingertips, connecting you down to the earth below. 

“Animals have ruts. Deer, elk, creatures like that.” A beat, as you begin to understand. Heat flaring in your cheeks at the implication, “But, not… not humans.”

He grunts, shifting.

It takes everything not to let your chin tip down, to look. 

“They do where I come from.” 

Pieces start to fall in place. His increased irritability around you lately. Territorial. Aggressive. 

Blending in to what you know, in your connection to nature. Those animalistic instincts that linger in your blood long after you’ve shed your beast form. 

Desire. Mating. An urge to breed. 

Oh, fuck. 

You squirm and he makes a warning sound without thinking - a rough rumble from his chest. His weight shifting on top of you, still hovering.

“How do you handle it?” 

His eyes flicker up to yours, then away again. Jaw working, a breath before he answers, “Take care of it myself. Or, I’d find someone to work through it with me.”

Even as you’re scrambling to make sense of it, you understand his insinuation. It stuns you into silence. You cannot allow that. The thought sends your heart crashing into your guts. 

Your chin tips up, defiantly.

“Let me help you.” 

Those dark eyes narrow as they snap to your face. Your words softening, as your thumb sweeps across his skin, the scruff of his cheek.

“I want to help you.”

Logan laughs, the sound ragged. Showing the points of his canines with the shake of his head. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice is smoky-low. Rough as it scrapes across your skin, leaving goosebumps, “You couldn’t take me.”

Your heart feels like it’s pounding in your throat. Heat licking down your spine, and surely he can feel it - the flutter beneath the press of his knuckles. 

“I can.” It comes out breathy. Insisting. 

His tongue brushes over his lips as they part. A tilt of his head as he lowers himself. His knee pressing against the meat of your thigh, nudging. Opening your legs up further. Spreading them wider. 

“I will ruin you.” 

It’s growled in your ear. Each word coming slowly, as he lets the hard curve of his cock grind against your core. His meaning unmistakable, his voice pitching down with a ragged groan. 

“I want you to ruin you. You understand?”

And, you do. It floods through you, sending your nerve endings alight. Imagining how he would handle you, take you. The space between your thighs throbs. 

His admission - the rasp of his words and the heavy nudge of him against you makes you do something very selfish. 

And very stupid. 

You’re just able to reach your thigh holster now, with this new angle. The quick fumble of your fingers to loosen the small dagger.

The metal side of his claw pressing into your skin as your head turns. Before he can move, a flick of your wrist sends it through the air.

Your aim is slightly off, but it does the job. Seating itself in the control box by the door, a sizzle as the wires are cut.

A metallic snick as the doors lock. The lights click off, plunging the room into darkness. The ground bathed only with the stripes of sun that stretch across the floor from the row of window along the wall.

Logan lets go of your wrist, but leaves you pinned. His fist curling in the strap of your tank, knuckles pressing against your throat as he yanks you forward.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Logan snarls, “You want me to use you?”

His words make you whimper. A soft little whine that has his hips dropping further. An unconscious rut against your core, leg muscles flexing as you clench around nothing. 

You meet his second thrust, your body curving against his. Head tipping back as the seam of your leggings nudge against your clit.

“Fuck.” It almost sounds awed now, his words soft and slow, “You do, don’t you?”

Letting his full weight drop, as your hands grip onto his shoulders for purchase. You had thought you were pinned before, but he had still been using his knees, his elbows. Hovering, in an attempt to keep control.

Now, you can feel all of him, as his body maps against yours. Pulling a rough groan as his hips flex, grinding himself slowly against your core. 

“Logan, please.”

He growls. Fingers unfurling from your shirt. Ghosting down your side to fit against the curve of your hip. Biting into flesh with a bruising force, as his face buried in the crook of your neck. A hot exhale against your skin, as he pants - finding a rocking rhythm, as his body curls around yours. 

You can feel the way his muscles tense with each needy snap of his hips. The way each breath pitches into a near-silent whine, as he seeks friction. 

It’s not enough, as much as he wishes it was.

“I need-” Logan rasps, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

The hand on your hip snakes between you. Roughly tugging on the belt of his suit, until the clasp opens. All while murmuring assurances, half to himself.

“I’ll let you go. Work through it myself-”

That need he speaks of rolls off him in waves. Facial hair scraping against your cheek. The brush of his lips against your throat, just above the cool press of his claws.

“Don’t stop.” It’s easy to answer. Easy to lean into what he offers you, all those sweet promises wrapped in steel. 

The groan he makes is filthy, “Give me your hand.”

Your fingers unlatch from the vice-like hold on his suit. A broad hand wrapping around your wrist, as he tugs you where he needs you. The tips brushing heated skin, making you gasp. 

“Make a fist,” He rasps, “Fuck, that’s it.”

Lining himself up, pushing his bared cock into the circled grip of your fingers. Using you like a cheap imitation of what he craves, as his desire leaks from him. Slicking up your fingers, with each roll of his hips. 

He’s heavy in your hand. You can feel how your fingers stretch - flexing, opening, with each forward thrust. Barely able to circle around, fingers splitting when you reach his base. 

You can’t help but move with him. Hips rocking up, to match his messy rhythm. The knuckle of your thumb pressing against your seam, nudging at where you ache for him.

“I can smell you, sweetheart,” Logan moans, his nose dragging along the curve of your jaw. Lips parting so he can test his teeth against a spot under your ear, the pressure making you shiver, “Your pussy’s leaking, thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, as you whine. Squeezing his cock a little more tightly, wishing it was filling you instead just your fingers. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He husks, “You think you can take it?”

You want anything he’ll give you. And anything is better than the way he’s teasing you. Palm slick with his desire, your own soaking through the soft fabric of your leggings.

“I want it. Want your cock,” You breathe, “Want to fuck me, please-”

There’s a final jerk of his hips against you, his voice gruff as his thighs shift.

“Stay still then, sweetheart.”

There’s the sharp rasp of adamantium against stone as they withdraw from the floor. His knuckles easing carefully from your throat as he leans back. Eyes dropping down, considering.

Barely a heartbeat before there’s the kiss of metal against skin, as the edge of a claw hooks under your shirt. Your breath held as it slips up, between your breasts. 

A tug, and the fabric is shredding. Fibers splitting until the drag of the sharp tips, from belly to throat. Baring you, the air in the open room chilling your heated skin as you gasp.

Nipples already pebbled as his mouth descends. A needy moan loosening when he kisses at the curve of your tits, his tongue flattening across a tight peak. 

Your arms wrap around him, their duty forgotten. Distracting you as his claws shift down. Your breath catches, but then there’s the sound of them sheathing - slipping back under his skin. 

His hands finding the slice he made in the waistband, making short work of the rest himself. Ripping your leggings open - dragging your thighs over his as he leans back on his knees. 

And looking down, it’s only now that you can fully see him. The familiar, worn yellow suit that shows off how broad he is. Zipper yanked down at the crotch, his cock pulled through with his impatience.

Eyes widening, when you realize there’s more to him than you though. Hanging heavy between his thighs, pretty and flushed. A thickened bulge sitting where your fingers had split - what you had mistaken for his base. 

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart,” Logan’s hand already wrapping around his shaft, dragging the tip across your cunt, “Don’t make me waste a drop, alright?”

Fingers tugging the gusset of your panties to the side. Letting the tip slap against your clit. It glides against you, slipping against your combined arousal. Seeing how you flutter as you clench, your own need spiking.

“Logan,” You beg, “Stop teasing, please-”

He makes a rough sound. Almost a laugh, if it didn’t sound so pained. 

“Just listen to you. Begging like you’re in heat,” He grunts, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need.”

The tip dips down, nudging at your entrance. Lining himself up, before his hips drive him forward. The sudden pressure chokes you - a bitten-back cry as your muscles string tight, thighs clamping down around his waist.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this.” He growls. Spearing into you an inch at time with a long, fluid motion. Fingers biting into your thigh, holding you open as your own scrabble against the mat - searching for something to hold onto.

“Tugging down those leggings. Fucking you into the floor.”

You can barely contain the whine. Brow furrowed, as he splits you open. Your pussy making room for him until the swollen ring at his base cradles your entrance. 

Only able to inhale a short breath before he’s moving. Hands catching your legs, slipping to the joints of your knees where they press into his ribs.

Pushing your thighs back towards your chest, opening you up further, as his cock drags along your walls. He feels deeper, bigger - groaning at the way you clench so tightly around him.

Better than any of those daydreams, as he leans into you. Chasing that animalistic urge inside to bury himself fully in you, ensuring that you’ll take every drop.

Your fingers bite into his wrists. The breath pushed from you with each thrust, feeling like he’s deep in your belly, as that swell stretches at your opening.

“Thought about it too,” You admit with a gasp, as that heat inside you burns, “Wanted you, like this.”

“Yeah? I bet you did.” He grunts, as his thighs snap against your ass. Leaning over you now, eyes fixed on yours. Close enough that you can see the glaze to them, lost in his need for release. 

Before his eyes drag down. Seeing where you’re stretched around him. Another shallow nudge, urging himself deeper. His thumb pressing at your entrance, before slipping back to hook around the swell.

“Good girl like you’d take my knot too, wouldn’t you?”

His knot. Your head shakes. He barely fits at is. You can feel every ridge as he ruts into you, every thick vein, “I don’t think- Logan, that won’t fit-”

The thumb shifts up. Pleasure burning through as he rolls the pad across you clit. His brow pulled in concentration, but there’s a flesh of white teeth.

“Sure it will, baby.” It’s slick, how he touches you. His cock grinding again and again against a spot that steals your breath, “You were made to take it. We’ll make it fit.”

It makes you moan. Your fingers sliding into his hair tugging at him. He comes willingly, a soft sound as his mouth dips to press against yours. Turning hungry as your lips part. Rubbing at you as his tongue strokes against yours, deepening the kiss. 

The pleasure licks in your veins, a molten feeling building in your core. 

A rough murmur against your lips, “Tell me you want it. I’ll make you feel good, sweetheart.”

You parrot it back to him without thinking, hips chasing the press of his thumb. 

“I want it,” You keen, “Your k-knot.”

Willing to do just about anything he asks if he keeps touching you like this. If he keeps rutting against the spot that makes your arousal leak around his cock, each drive of his hips loud and messy in the quiet room. 

He groans, the hand at your thigh pinching, sure to leave bruises tomorrow. The fingers at your clit slipping up to splay across your abdomen, his palm hot again your skin. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks - pressing down, almost as if he can feel himself buried inside you, “Fuck, you’d look so good filled with my pups.”

His rhythm going sloppy, as a hand slips up to palm at your breasts, “These pretty tits nice and round. Wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you, baby.”

Some of his words are new to you, but your body still reacts to his tone. The need, the longing. An intrinsic understanding of what he wants, even if it’s impossible with your implant. It still doesn’t stop your hand from slipping down to replace his.

Of pretending, with him. 

The circles practiced, leaving him to concentrate on his own end. Soft panting cries pulling from you as the pounding of his hips drags you closer. 

He’s close, as well. Those sharp thrusts growing shallow, messy. Letting go of your thighs, letting them wrap around his waist as he drives you into the padded mats. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing against your jaw. Tongue dipping out to drag against a spot on your neck that makes you go slack in his arms. 

“Should mate you,” He rasps. Teeth pinching down, where his tongue just was, “Bite you right here. Make you mine.”

The words tip you over the edge. A ragged gasp as your pussy clamps down around him, blood thundering in your ears. Nails catching on the panels of his suit as you cling to him, moans ripped from your throat as you pulse around him in time with your thudding heartbeat.

There’s no sharp bite of teeth. Just a muffled groan against your skin as he grasps at your hips. The sharp feeling of pressure increasing, as something thick works its way inside you. You keen as it stretches you, swelling so he can’t withdraw. 

Twin ragged moans, as you’re joined together. 

He comes with you squirming on his knot, his lips pressed against your throat. Sweet nothings murmured - “squeezing me so fucking tight, baby”, “gonna need you to take every drop, atta girl” - his cock throbbing as he spills inside you, pumping you full.

Still grinding into you. It draws your own orgasm out, with the way he’s rubbing against your walls, nothing left untouched. Overstimulation flickering at the corner of your mind, but you’re locked in place as he breeds you. 

Understanding what he meant by using you - you feel it now. Fucked out and boneless and it sends another gush of sticky need between your thighs. 

The sharp, panting breath starts to ebb. The ghost of his teeth becomes the nuzzle of his face, that strung-tight pull of his muscles turning liquid as he relaxes into your embrace. 

“Why were you so worried?”

It comes out hushed, in the now-silent room. You’re sore - will be, tomorrow. Pleasure-drunk certainly, but not quite as ruined as he promised. 

Almost to your disappointment. 

“That wasn’t too much.”

Logan laughs, the sound dripping with condescension. A flex of his hips, still knotted inside you. Cum leaking from your swollen pussy, smearing against your inner thighs.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He coos, “Ruts can last for days.”

His fingers drop, dragging through his spend. Finding your clit again, rubbing slick circles against the tight little bud. 

Intent on doing this one himself. 

“We’re only just getting started.”

[moodboard] // I had two ideas for his claws after the movie - this was the second one! This is my first time writing something like this, so keeping it a little light with the dynamics 💖 thanks for reading!

and speaking of - I have to link this amazing alpha!logan thot by the incredible @avocado-writing! please check it out! 💕

[envy-of-the-apple]

Monsoon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

10.1k wc

Synopsis: Four years after Toji Fushiguro died, Satoru decided to give his widow a visit

(Warnings: age difference (nothing underaged), dark content, AFAB reader, pregnancy kink, non con, overstimulation, piv sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, rough sex)

It was raining when Gojo Satoru entered your flat. 

Not particularly harshly, but more than enough for a scare. You weren't in the mood for visitors; the rain made you drowsy, and it was coincidentally your one day off. You wanted to lean against the window and watch the droplets fall against the pavement with a warm blanket. You did not want to exchange pleasantries with some kid. 

The only reason you didn't slam the door in his face was because he said your husband's name. 

It was why you were bringing tea to someone who clearly couldn't care less about it as he lounged on the sofa. You sat on the other end, staring at the scuffed coffee table. Out of anxiety, you play with the ring wrapped around your finger. 

"...He's dead?" 

It's a question, but you already know the answer. Gojo doesn't even bother to reply, humming, taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid. You still stare at the coffee table. It's slightly crooked. One of the legs was broken. Toji promised he'd fix it. 

That was four years ago. You hadn't seen him since. 

You should have expected this. You knew the kind of man Toji was even before he stuck that flimsy ring on your finger. The kinds of people he hung out with. The suspicious amounts of money he would shower you with. There would have never been a happy end for the two of you. 

You can still feel your throat close up, bile rise from your belly. You can't do anything but watch the old table you never threw out because he promised he'd come back and fix it. 

The only reason you close your eyes, sucked in a tight breath, was because you still had a guest over. One that clearly wouldn't care about your crocodile tears. 

You've never seen someone his age so apathetic before. That temperament was associated with the people of your generation. The people who've already been in the workforce, who carried stress on their backs and hips. You can't see his eyes, but the slouch in his posture is indicative enough. Maybe all kids his age were like this. Uncaring, indifferent, subtly disrespectful. 

Because he was a kid. It didn't matter how tall he was, how much bigger than you he was. A single look was all you needed to know that this boy was at least a decade younger than you. Unkept white hair, sunglasses despite the weather, a cocky smile, a voice oozing with misplaced confidence.

You don't acknowledge it; it's clear he didn't come here just to tell you your husband is dead. 

"How old's your kid? Eight?" Gojo tilts his head. "You gotta' know what that means, right?" 

You do. Even if you weren't steeped into the world your husband willfully left, you know enough. You know how important your son is. 

It's why you stop Gojo before he can make his offer. You've already heard this before, a week ago when men with Zenin as their last names knocked on your door. 

"Thank you for your concern," you tell him as calmly and respectfully as you can. For the first time, the man straightens up, as if your answer wasn't what he expected. You can sense he isn't used to being told no. 

 You keep your smile neutral, pleasant, final. 

"But we're fine as we are."

Moments later, when he's about to leave, you offer an umbrella, insistent on him taking it. It was raining after all. He takes it with him without any protest. 

You don't notice that, despite the downpour, he was perfectly dry when he stepped into your home.

☔︎︎

Megumi was always special. 

Every mother thinks that for their child. You're no exception. As soon as he was born, tiny in your arms, swaddled in blankets, something shifted within you. You'd always wanted children, but the concrete feeling of your child in your arms when he's so vulnerable. You'd never felt anything more right. 

To you, Megumi was always special. But when Megumi turned 5, he became special to the entire world. 

Toji was never tight-lipped about the world he came from. Shamans, sorcerers, shikigami, curses. You weren't an expert, but you certainly knew more than the average person. He'd often tell you things, when he was drunk, pulling you against his bare chest, underneath cheap blankets. You always heard the bitterness in his voice. That world had rejected him. It would reject anyone who wasn't special enough. Special people were rare. 

It's why you were convinced Megumi would never have to deal with any of that. His father wasn't a sorcerer, neither were you. He'd live a normal life and would only be special to you. 

"It's on your other shoulder." 

You switched hands, reaching over to tug on your sleeve. Like always, you couldn't feel anything. There was no weight on your skin, nothing tangible that you could grab and toss. There was just this small feeling of dread. A small ache in your bones. 

He waves a tiny hand. Instantly, the feeling of dread is gone. The ache lifts and you roll your shoulders. 

"Thank you," you tell him with a strained, but grateful smile. He nods, turning back to his food. 

"You're getting more, now," he simply says. 

"Haha, sorry," you reply instinctively because even though he's eight, you feel like you've burdened him. 

"It's okay," he mutters, quiet as always. His gaze flicks back up at you, before glancing back down. He takes a second to gnaw on his lip. 

"Are...are you okay?" 

You're being so obvious even your own son could see it. 

Your smile feels more forced as you placate him with the usual lie of 'Mommy's just tired, long day at work'. He doesn't buy it, but he doesn't say anything back. He's so much like his father in these moments. Truthfully, you didn't think Megumi got a single thing from you. His black hair is Toji's, his blue eyes are Toji's, his pale skin is Toji's, and even his forever-present scowl is your late husband's. You supposed that should have been the first sign: Megumi would be anything but normal. 

You hadn't told him about the visits. You're his parent, you had justified to yourself. He's a child. He doesn't need to know about the visits. Especially, considering you decided for him. Megumi would be raised out of the jujutsu world, away from curses, and sorcerers. 

You can't have your son taken away from you like his father was.

('Special Grade', Gojo had told you. A powerful cursed spirit. You hadn't gotten closure until you let him in. No body was ever recovered.)

You can't let your son end up like that. 

But was this the right life for him? You watch as Megumi's gaze trails up, like he's tracing the movement of a fly or something bigger that you would never see. 

You can't relate to Megumi. You don't have cursed energy. You can't see the things he can. As much as you loved him, you'd never be able to understand what he is. None of his classmates can. None of his teachers. It sounds lonely. Isolating. 

Only a handful of people that could ever give Megumi that connection exist. And they're willing to accept him with open arms. 

He had been an older man, flanked by another. They eyed your home with relative disgust; you, with mild derision. It'd been their words that echo in your head today. How much happier Megumi would be surrounded by his own kind. How the clan would welcome him and teach him to hone his technique. 

They were words that would sate the parent of a lonely boy, but you couldn't help but remember the disregard in his voice. Their words made Megumi sound like a tool, instead of a child. 

The offer of payment for your son was enough to turn them away. 

Was Gojo Satoru any better? From your brief encounter, you couldn't tell. There was always a smile on his lips whenever he talked about Megumi's future and Jujutsu Tech. The lilt of his voice felt fake, artificial. But at least he didn't ask to outright buy your son. 

When Megumi's tucked into bed, you pace around the living room. You glance at the slip of paper he'd left behind. The scrawl of numbers in neat handwriting. The thing he slipped into your unsuspecting hand. You've had a glass of wine before, maybe that's why your hands are a little more steady when you punch in the numbers. 

He picks up after the second ring. It oddly feels like he was waiting for your call. 

"Can jujutsu sorcerers live normal lives?"

There's a laugh on the other end. Light. Amused. 

"No," his response is cold, even when his tone isn't, "Even if they leave the jujutsu world, they will never have normal lives." 

The answer you were afraid of, but you weren't surprised. Special people rarely live normal lives. You knew what this meant: trying to protect Megumi from his father's fate would be pointless. No matter how far you run, no matter how far you take him, it will never be enough. 

"Does it really matter, then?" you ask, "who Megumi goes with." 

"In that sense, no, not really," his voice crackles back, "But I think you've already made your decision." 

You had days ago. You were just wasting time, picking up the phone only to drop it just as quickly. As much as you'd wanted to keep your son away from the jujutsu world, you knew, even before they knocked on your door, it was a failed endeavor. Megumi was special. Megumi was too special for you to hide. He shone too brightly. 

The Zenin clan would extinguish that. You knew it. Toji knew it too. It's why he took on your name. 

It's silent again. You bite your lip. You've been doing that a lot lately. 

"Gojo, may I ask a favor?" He gives a hum. 

"Please, don't tell him about Toji." 

There's a beat of silence. The line clicks. 

Two days later, Megumi meets the strongest sorcerer of the modern era. 

☔︎

There was always something clinical about Megumi's and Gojo's relationship. 

You wouldn't call them father-son, let alone brotherly. It was strictly student and teacher. From the start, it was clear Megumi wasn't impressed with the sorcerer. His scowl would somehow get deeper whenever the young man was around. 

Gojo didn't seem all that impressed either. He wasn't as blatant, but you could sense that it was a chore for him, rather than anything else. You don't think you can blame him. He's barely twenty. He should be doing other things. Living his youth, and continuing his education. 

Gojo grew up too fast. You can see it in his face. He's never not smiling, but it's never truly sincere. It's not clinical either. It looks exhausted. You wonder-if he wasn't wearing those glasses all the time-if you'd see dark circles. 

He's too young to be running around this much. He's too young to carry the entire world of jujutsu sorcery on his back. He's too young to be an educator. A mentor. 

Yet he is. Yet he does. All with a smile on his face. 

You're less intense nowadays to him. When Megumi comes home, clearly a bit more roughed up than when he left, you criticize Gojo less harshly. When you make lunch for Megumi, you ask if he'd like anything as well. Gojo has a bigger sweet tooth than your eight-year-old son does. You never nag him for it. 

The change doesn't fully happen until that fateful conversation. It's an offhanded remark he makes about him not being there to train Megumi for a few weeks because of a mission. 

"A curse?" you ask, as if they aren't all around you. 

Gojo grins because you've discovered he likes talking. "Reports are coming down from Sendai. The running bet currently is special grade." 

You frown. "Oh. Well, be careful." 

He freezes at that. You think he's staring at you, but you're not too sure. His glasses give away nothing. Your fingers dance with nerves. Had you said something wrong?

"What?" 

You tilt your head. "Oh! Uh, 'be careful'. Stay safe." You end your sentence awkwardly. 

Eventually, Gojo recovers. "Yeah. Well, obviously." He smiles. 

You watch him leave, keeping your eye on him until he disappears into the sleek black car. 

It doesn't occur to you until much later that Gojo probably hasn't had someone worry about him before. 

☔︎︎

Whenever Megumi's training continues much later in the evenings, you go to the Gojo estate to pick him up yourself. 

It's a grand house. Practically a mansion. You've never felt so embarrassed about your humble apartment until you saw the lavishness Satoru lived in. A part of you is now even more impressed by Megumi's stubbornness. Children are the first to fall for the affluent. 

It's big, but you've never quite gotten over how empty it looks. Every time you visit, there's always just Satoru. You haven't seen his mom, his dad, any siblings. It looks like a family home, but he's the only one who's ever there. 

He's never mentioned any family. You wonder what happened to them. Where they are now. 

Somedays, you arrive a bit earlier than needed. During that time, you tend to stroll through the gardens. They're so beautiful. Large and expansive. They're empty, however, just like that grand house. No flowers. Not even weeds. It's just a bunch of dirt and stones, plainly stacked on top of each other. It disappoints you a bit. The grounds had so much potential. 

"Whatcha' got for me this time?" You jump, whirling around. Satoru is right behind you, a teasing grin on his face. 

You give him a disapproving look, though it lacks any real heat. "I told you to stop doing that." 

"Doing what?" Though he may be twenty, he acts like he's younger than your son. Speaking of your child:

"Where's Megumi?" You prod, glancing behind Satoru, as though your grumpy child would pop up behind him. No such thing happens. Satoru's incriminating smile grows wider. 

"Homework," he cryptically replies, "also, he didn't want to disturb us adults having our grown-up conversations." 

"Of course he did," is all you say, but you acquiesce regardless, digging through your bag. 

You've always been taught to bring something when visiting another person's home. You found it rude not to, despite how casual Satoru acts around you. You discovered he liked sweets the most, so you have tried your best to satisfy his sweet tooth. He seems happy with whatever you give him. One thing you like about Satoru is how he cherishes all the gifts he's received from you without any complaint. You spotted the umbrella you'd given him all those weeks ago, sitting right by the door. He'd never given it back. You'd never asked for it. 

You try to ignore the feeling that the only reason he gets excited about your gifts is that it's rare for him to receive anything at all. Satoru doesn't need to be pitied. 

It's nothing too big, just a bag of saltwater taffy from an Americanized store. He's already ripping the package open, pulling one out of the wrapper to stick it in his mouth. 

You blink when he extends his hand, another piece of candy between his fingers. 

"Say 'ah'!" 

"Oh no, I'm fine. They're for you—" Satoru interrupts you by popping the piece right in your mouth. Your lips instinctively close. 

"Oh." You say after you taste the sweet. "Peppermint." 

He laughs, taking another one out for himself. You follow him through the abandoned gardens. 

"So, how's Megumi's-"

"Nuh-uh," Satoru immediately stops you, "enough about work. Let's talk about something else!" 

You roll your eyes, but your smile is too affectionate. You ask him about his latest trip overseas. He tells you about the country he visited, the curse he exorcised, practically giddy from excitement. Conversation starts there before moving onto other things, small talk, your job. 

"It's a shame the gardens are so empty," you say when the conversation reaches a lull. 

He stares at the bare patches of dirt with you. "When I was younger, the gardeners would take care of 'em for us. Flowers would bloom every spring." 

You feel him recoil. Satoru does that sometimes. Say something too intimate, hissing when it's too late to take them back. For his sake, you don't comment on it. 

"It must have looked beautiful." Is all you respond. Understanding, but closed enough to give him relief. 

You stand there in silence for a couple of seconds. In the dirt, you can see a tiny ant carrying a grain of sand. 

"Roleplay time!" Satoru suddenly exclaims. You whirl your head to look at him. "Imagine you become the great Gojo Satoru." You stifle a laugh at that. His grin only gets wider. "What kind of flowers would you choose?" 

Toji always thought bouquets were stupid. 'There's no point' he'd always say 'the weeds will just die anyway, why you somethin' like that?'. But sometimes, he'd bring home these tiny, golden flowers. Simple. Pretty. He'd tuck it behind your ear, grinning at his work. You'd kiss him in return. 

"Marigolds," you say at last. 

Satoru only hums in response. A few seconds later, he's leading you out of the garden, rambling about how expensive sushi was overseas. 

A few days later, you see men with barrels of soil, combing through the garden. 

A week after, tiny golden flowers start poking through the dirt. Simple. Pretty. 

☔︎︎

You had that same dream again. The day Toji left. 

It's rare to have these dreams. They wouldn't leave you alone the first year he'd disappeared. Back when you thought he'd gotten bored of you and your son, like he'd finally decided he was sick of the family life. 

They come back sporadically, nowadays. You can't sleep after you have them, so you often find yourself curled up in the living room, looking at the window. It was raining. Heavy droplets thud on the glass. The violence seems desperate somehow. Like the weather is begging to be let in, to snuggle underneath the warm blankets too. 

On nights like this, it's a habit to stare at the tiny golden band on your finger. You slip it off, holding it in your palm. It's nothing extravagant—tiny with a simple design—but it's the last thing you have of him. Toji was never that sentimental. 

It's not really a dream. Dreams are more whimsical, cloudy. You can remember everything, down to the outfit he'd been wearing, the fly that had been buzzing around your door. It was like you were there all over again, begging him not to go. 

"You promised you'd stop." 

"This is different," Toji said and you flinched when he tucks away his gun. You thought he'd gotten rid of it. 

"The money?" You're pressing, "we have enough money, you-" 

"This isn't about fuckin' cash," his voice cuts through you, sharper than any blade he carried. 

"It's somethin' else. Somethin' you wouldn't understand. It goes beyond money." 

Your gaze lowers, curling your fists on the table. You can't understand, not when he refuses to tell you. Not when he barely explains why he's going back to his old ways in the first place. 

Sensing he's upset you, Toji sighs. You can hear him place something down on the dining table, metallic and clanky. Calloused, rough fingers brush your cheek, your jaw, coaxing you to look at him. You don't, forcing him to lean forward, giving a chaste kiss on your cheek. His lips are rough, cracked, but overwhelmingly gentle on your skin. 

"I love you," Toji mutters into your skin. 

You don't respond. You wish you had, you wish you'd gotten over your pride and told him because maybe then he'd still be here with you. He's giving another sigh, tucking your hair into place before he's leaving. He closes the door behind him. 

That day, you told yourself you wouldn't forgive him. Whenever he came back, you'd tell him you were done. You'd take Megumi and you'd leave. 

Now, you think you would have forgiven him. Eventually. It would have taken a while, a lot more than measly flowers and apologies. But, if he had come back, you would have let him back into your heart.

"Couldn't sleep?" you ask. 

Megumi blinks his eyes. It's past his bedtime, but you aren't going to nag him for it. You place the cup of steaming tea down on the coffee table, clicking your tongue when it wobbles. Right, four years later and you still hadn't fixed it,

"The rain was too loud." He gives. 

Wordlessly, you invite him into the cocoon you'd nestled yourself into. The sofa sinks under his weight as he settles next to you, leaning against your side. You tuck the warm blanket around his tiny body. He's still small enough to fully wrap your arm around him, bringing him even closer. You take advantage of it. You don't know how much time you have until he's too big to cuddle with anymore. 

His breaths are even and slow. He's a boy of few words, but even you think he's asleep until he's mumbling something into your ear. 

"I hate him." 

You give a confused hum, leaning down, resting your head on top of his. The coffee table looks even more uneven at this angle. It burns to even look at, these days.

"He makes you cry, even when he's not around anymore." 

You laugh at that. It's a quiet huff. When you glance down, you think you spot a faint smile on the boy's lips. He’s so much like his fathers, in the little things. You don’t think you will ever tell Megumi that. You don’t think he’ll take that observation well.

"I wasn't crying.” You tell him. “I was just thinking.”

He doesn't give a response after that. A few minutes later when you look down again, his eyes are closed, and he's drooling against your shoulder. You laugh again before gently gathering your son in your arms and settling him down to bed. 

The next day, you notice the monstrous amount of duct tape wrapped around the leg of the coffee table. When you ask Megumi about it, he just shrugs, his ears twinging a bright red. 

You throw the coffee table away. It's replaced by a new one the following week. 

☔︎︎

Satoru didn't like talking about Toji. 

You only tried prying once or twice. He was tight-lipped about it. Not quite cold, but he'd shut the conversation down quickly, more than eager to talk about something else. You missed it the first few times, but it became clear that Satoru disdained even the mention of your late husband. You can't tell if it's whether Satoru admired Toji enough that the mere mention of his name sends him into grief, or if it's something a lot more complicated. 

Now that you think of it, you barely even knew the relationship Gojo had with Toji. Had they been close? Was he just an acquaintance? Satoru had always been so cryptic about it. 

Toji hadn't. 

"He's called the strongest man?" you ask, amusement twinged in your voice, "I thought he was 12." 

"They don't care about age when giving titles," Toji replied.

You were leaning onto his shoulder, watching your son sleep in his crib. Only three months old and he had this permanent frown on his face, as if he was already sick of the world. 'He already acts like you' you once told your husband. He'd scoffed, but he didn't disagree. 

"That's a little funny," you find yourself saying. "What, can he lift a car? Does he benchpress 200?" 

Toji doesn't find the image of a child casually lifting 150lb weights as funny. He only grunts, drawing you closer. 

"I met him once," he says after a beat of silence, "back when he was barely older than a toddler." 

"Hm?" you prodded, still mesmerized by a sleeping Megumi, "what'd you think?" 

"Power," Toji responds, "more power than I'd ever have." 

You tear your gaze away from your son, glancing at your husband. Toji's eyes were looking somewhere, farther than you could see. It's the envy in his voice that you can't help but keep. A mere child already has everything Toji could ever want. Strength, a name, honor. 

You should have realized then that Toji would never belong to you. Not truly. His heart, whether or not he swore up and down otherwise, would always belong to the Jujujtsu world. It's a tragedy. Someplace that he always longed for acceptance, will never truly see him. Even when he died for it. 

Satoru will probably never answer your questions about Toji, but perhaps you could get close. 

"Why did you do it?" 

It was after dinner. Satoru had dropped your son off, and you had practically dragged the white-haired man inside with you, sitting him down on the dining table. He'd complained, but you know he secretly liked being coddled. He didn't deny the second helpings, nor the thirds. Sometimes you wondered if he was a man or a black hole. 

Megumi had already gone to bed, and you supposed he had enough of Satoru for one day. It left you and him in the kitchen, putting away the dishes. Rather, you put away the dishes, and Satoru watched. Not that you minded. It was nice to have company. 

"Hm?" He was typing away at his phone, blearily turning back to look at you. You couldn't get why he didn't just go home if he was so uninterested. 

"Why did you interfere when the Zenin came?" You repeat your question, putting the last of the plates in the dishwasher. 

Looking back, things could have gone much differently for you. For your son. You didn't realize how much power the Zenin clan had back then. Had Satoru not stepped in, had you kept rejecting them, you honestly wonder what sorts of drastic measures men like them would take for the sake of power. 

"Are you upset?" He asks, tilting his head. 

"Of course not." You smile. You were grateful for Satoru, you always have been. He's helped your family out in more ways than you could imagine. After all he's helped Megumi with, there was nothing Satoru could do to get you mad at him, hate him, not truly. 

"I was just wondering. It's not like you had an obligation to." 

You close the dishwasher with a soft click. The machine starts with a soft hum. He doesn't reply, not for a long while, when you look up, you see him staring back at you. His sunglasses were off, folded, tucked under his collar. 

"Clans are bullshit." You're surprised by the venom in his voice. There's a cinch in his jaw. You wonder how many years his hatred has been festering like this. 

"The entire Jujujstu world is, honestly. But clans are the worst of all. The hierarchy. Traditions. All dogshit. They'd gobble the kid and spit him back out. I-I didn't want him-" He stops with a hiss, like he'd said too much.

This time, you don't let him run away. 

"...you didn't want him to end up like you." You finish. 

It clicks, fits together like a jigsaw piece. The Gojo name had ruined Satoru, turned him into something he was too young to be. The name forced him to grow up faster, stronger. The name forced him to be isolated, lonely.

That conversation with Toji curls up inside of you. Back then, you'd only empathized with Toji's pain, but what about Satoru's pain? What about the amount of expectations that had been piled on top of a 12-year-old boy? What about the responsibilities he's forced to carry, each weight growing heavier and heavier but he can't break because he is Gojo? 

Satoru stands before you, but you can easily picture him as Megumi. Tiny, small Megumi who didn't speak much but whose heart was bigger than anyone you knew. He could end up like Satoru. Standing at the top of the mountain. All powerful. All alone. 

You don't want Megumi to be alone. 

You don't want Satoru to be alone. 

"Satoru." You step forward. "Could...could I give you a hug?" 

He doesn't respond. You step closer. No barrier. 

When you wrap your arms around him, you think you can feel him tremble. It takes a moment for him to catch up, for his arms to drape across your back. You clutch onto him tighter, silently promising not to let go until he does. 

He doesn't, not for a long while. 

☔︎︎

Satoru had a mission on his twenty-second birthday. So, you celebrate five days after he turns twenty-two. 

"Again," you say for the nth time, "If-if you have other plans, or anything else, I don't have to stay-" 

"Will you stop it, already," Satoru interrupts, "You're gonna make me depressed. I already told you, I got no other plans." 

 "Well," you frown, "if you change your mind, and you'd rather spend time with your friends..." 

"What other friends? You're the only one I got." 

You frown at that. He smiles, barely lingering on his loneliness. He does that a lot lately, brush it off. Perhaps it's become easier to. Perhaps it's because you're here now. 

The sun had already set on the Gojo estate. The stars were already out. Typically, you would have been antsy staying too late over, especially when Megumi was still home, but your son was a few cities over. He was training with another sorcerer, his new mentor stating that your son wouldn't be back for a couple more days. 

Wait, now that you think of it. 

"Satoru," you say, your voice heavy with disapproval, "Did you send Megumi off purely because it was your birthday?”

He grins wider, showing off his pearly whites. "No idea what you’re talking about." 

You frown harder. He clicks his tongue in distaste.

"It's not like the kid would wanna come celebrate anyway, and now you can focus on me! Two birds one stone." He flops on the couch.

"Satoru." 

"Cake! Cake! Cake! Cake!" Satoru chants, as if that'll distract you. 

Unfortunately, it does. You roll your eyes, but you lean down, pulling out the pastry out of the bag. It's nothing special, and you do not consider yourself an expert in baking. It certainly isn't fancy, but you were still a little proud. Simple, a small chocolate cake, perfect for two.

Satoru stares. 

"I know it isn't much-" 

"I love it," he says and you can't tell if he's joking or not, "I'm gonna make it a family heirloom." 

You laugh at that. It shakes your shoulders. 

"I don't think cakes are built to last that long. How about you just eat it, instead." 

"Much better plan," Satoru responds, grabbing a fork, eager to dig in. 

He yelps when you slap his hand away as you give him a stern look. You touched his skin. You try not to linger at that, at the fact that he let you touch him. 

"Not now," you say, but you still smile, "you need to blow out the candles first." 

He huffs but doesn't protest when you stick two candles into the soft frosting. It takes a while to work the old lighter; you have to shoo him away when he tries to snatch it from you. You force Satoru to sit there for at least a minute as you sing the dreadful happy birthday song. He doesn't seem to mind, a mean grin growing on his face, letting you finish up the lyrics. 

Toji was mortified every time you managed to stick a birthday hat onto him, dragging him to the living room for his cake. He'd hold his infant son in his arms, his frown even less amused. Even then, he never interrupted the stupid tradition you put him through. He'd sit through the entire ceremony, Megumi asleep on his chest. A scowl would twitch on his lips whenever you managed to smear a dab of frosting on his nose.

You clap when Satoru blows out the candles. 

"What did you wish for?" You ask minutes later, swallowing down a bite of frosting. He was already on his third piece. You know you should tell him to slow down but you don't think it will do much. 

"If I tell you, it won't come true," Satoru responds, his tone light.

"That's a myth," you point out, "but keep your secrets if you must." 

You set your plate down when Satoru speaks the next time. 

"I wished for us to do this again." 

His voice is shallow, echoing throughout the empty house. You look at him, his white hair, his pink lips, his blue eyes. Everything that encompasses Gojo Satoru is focused entirely on you.

"That next year, we'll celebrate the exact same way." 

He sounded so small, as though he were younger than 22. Perhaps, a part of him was. A gentle smile spreads on your face. 

"Of course we will," you assure, before your voice gets teasing, "the next year, the year after that, and the next year until you get sick of me." You laugh. He doesn't laugh back. It's silent again, the kind of quiet that's full and meaningful. Distantly, you hear a clock ticking somewhere. It's a nice night. Peaceful. God, you were so tired from all the stressing you did for the cake. Satoru wanted to watch a movie after the cake cutting, but you wonder if he'll forgive you if you fell asleep during the film. You were exhausted. 

That's why it takes you a second to register his lips are on yours. 

The kiss is soft, and patient. His mouth moves slowly against yours. You can taste the chocolate. It takes a second to understand what Satoru was doing that he wasn't Toji before your hands are moving, reaching up to his shoulders, keeping him there as you shy away, breaking the kiss. You two stay like that for a few more moments, still touching. You can hear your breath, feel your heartbeat. A little while later, he moves closer, intent on following your mouth, before your brain kicks in and you're shutting him down, standing up. 

Satoru blinks up at you, the realization of rejection sinking into his eyes before you stumble over yourself to apologize because, dear god, you should have seen this coming. 

"I'm so sorry, Satoru," your voice is coming out in clumps, "I never meant to... I always thought...I'm a decade older than you." 

The ocean eyes crystalize, turning into cold tanzanite. You're too muddled with guilt and self-hatred to notice. Of course, Satoru would take things the wrong way. Of course, he'd misunderstand. You always thought he was wise for his age, but he's still in his early twenties. You should have been better and made your boundaries known. God, you were so stupid. 

"So?" he asks, but his voice lacks the usual snark. "Who cares how old you are?" 

You resist the urge to say something accidentally condescending. 'You'll understand when you're older' stings in the back of your tongue, and you wonder if it's fair to say considering how you acted when you were younger than Satoru­­-- when Toji was an older man who found you amusing enough for dinner and a warm bed. 

It's different now. You were older, wiser. Toji had been a mistake. A mistake you miss every day. 

"Of course, you don't," you say, and despite it all, a laugh fumbles out your throat. Shaky, delirious. "Again, I'm so sorry. It's entirely my fault-I-I should have communicated things better."  

"Why does any of that matter?." It's his turn to stand up, and it makes everything so much worse because Satoru's taller than you. "It doesn't, not to me. I lo-" 

"Stop."

It's not a yell, but it's the harshest tone you've ever used on him. Still, it's enough for his breath to falter, to give you a moment of reprieve because the only other person who said that to you and meant it died six years ago. You touch the cold metal of your ring. You twist it around your finger. When Satoru's eyes gaze down, following your movements, you force yourself to stop self-soothing. 

The ticking of the clock starts back up again. You want to smash it. 

"I should go."

You already know it's a bad idea. You shouldn't leave Satoru alone. You should stay, sort things out, mend his heart, but you're human. You want to run, sort yourself out first. You want to take the cowards' way out. Satoru doesn't stop you. You can't bear to look at him, not when it's so much to even be here. Your mind is already being thrown into disarray and you're barely remembering to grab your purse. 

Your hands rest on the door when you pause. You don't bother turning around. You know he's already looking at you. 

"Happy birthday, Satoru." 

For some reason, you cry the entire ride home. 

☔︎︎

Surprisingly, it's Megumi who asks about it. 

It'd been a week since you'd last spoken to Satoru. Communication stills, and stops completely. It goes both ways, he doesn't randomly pop by anymore, scaring the daylights out of you. You no longer buy strange-sounding sweets because you know you won't be seeing him later. One week ago, Satoru was there. The next, he wasn't. 

"Has he said sorry yet?" 

You jolt up, staring at your son. Megumi is still glowering at the vegetables you'd put on his plate. At this point, you know he doesn't hate the food. He just always looks like that. 

"What?" 

"He obviously did something to you." He mutters. "Did he at least say sorry?" 

No matter how uninterested your son always portrayed himself as, he was very observant. Of course, he would. As much as you loved Megumi, you wish he'd be just 10 percent less attentive. 

You force yourself to laugh anyway. "Satoru didn't do anything." You assure. "What makes you say that?" 

"The idiot's been sulking all week," Megumi responds, "everyone's been wondering what's up with him." 

You give him a disapproving look, but you doubt it did anything. Instead, you glance down, mindlessly poking at your plate. 

"Don't call him that," you say softly.

Megumi only shrugs. Despite everything, you still have this strange urge to defend Satoru, if only to save your own dignity of fighting with someone 10 years younger than you.

"Nothing happened. It-it was a misunderstanding, that's all." You hope your smile doesn't look uncertain. He's only ten, but he's already so perceptive. You don't think it's enough to convince him. Your smile drops. You roll your shoulders. 

Another thing you should have seen coming. Of course, Megumi would notice. Despite how annoyed Megumi acts around him, there's still a sort of bond between the two boys. A connection between two sorcerers, something you will never have with your son. You were wrong about your initial assessment about their relationship. They were much closer than you thought. Satoru cared about Megumi, as did Megumi about Satoru. Your souring relationship with Satoru might break that. . 

Your actions have consequences. To everyone, not just yourself. 

"I'll talk to him soon about it, I promise." As if to placate him further, you reach over, patting his hair. He frowns deeper but doesn't make a move to shove you off. 

To your chagrin, soon comes later that evening. Satoru breaks the ice first with a single text. 

you free tomorrow

It's nothing like him. No emoticons. No exclamation marks. You say yes, regardless. The next evening, you step out of the taxi, thanking the driver before stepping onto the Gojo property. 

It was raining, barely a drizzle, not enough to make you want to bring an umbrella. Still, the air was chilly, just enough so that you clutched the coat covering your body tighter. You carefully avoid the puddles adorning the sidewalk. 

You agreed to come here, but it's hard to keep that in mind as you climb the patio steps. You stand in front of the door for an entire minute, counting each second, before you knock. 

"Finally! Took you long enough." 

It's hard to look at him. Already, your gaze threatens to waver. You force yourself not to wrap your arms around your sides. For once, you're glad he wears those sunglasses of his. 

Satoru, on the other hand, barely looks affected by the encounter. He's dressed well, in a white collared shirt and black pants. He smiles cheerily, widening the door so you can step inside. You thank him when he wordlessly mentions for your coat. 

Your eyes catch the living room, along with the coffee table. There'd been a half-eaten birthday cake the last time you'd been here. Now the table is completely clean. You wonder what Satoru had done with it. You hoped he threw it away because the thought of him sitting there, alone, finishing the pastry filled you with so much guilt you could almost feel sick. 

"Did you see the weather just an hour ago?" He asks offhandedly, "thought the rain would smash through my windows, from how loud it was." 

"Oh?" You ask genuinely because you honestly hadn't noticed anything regarding the weather. You'd been stressing about the reunion, mind too preoccupied to care about the skies. 

"'hope the violets survived. I just planted 'em yesterday." He glances out the window as though he could see through the sheets of rain. You hum, already feeling out of place. The silence is only accompanied by the rain lightly patting on the windows. 

"You still love him." When you don't answer right away, Satoru turns back. "That Zenin guy. You love him." 

It catches you so off guard that you can't help but tell the truth. You nod once. 

He's still smiling, but the air feels off somehow. Like you're passing unmarked territory. It's a silly thought, and you brush it off immediately. Despite how strained your relationship is currently, Satoru isn't dangerous. He never will be. 

"Yeah," he responds, "I just don't get why, y'know?" 

You try to smile, but it's like pulling teeth. "I-I don't see how-" 

"It just doesn't make sense. You and him, I mean. You two are so different." 

You couldn't argue with that. Toji and you were on opposite ends. He was from a world that you would never be able to reach, let alone touch. You were a regular woman. He was a man who fought curses on a regular basis. A man who died from it. 

Satoru's laughing; it takes you a moment to realize you might have said some of that out loud. 

"Right. Fuck I keep forgetting that's what I told you." Satoru leans against the counter. "A special grade killed Zenin." 

"I mean, technically, I didn't lie, right? A special grade did kill him. A special grade sorcerer." 

Your brain stops. You can only stare. Satoru reaches up, taking off his glasses, folding them before neatly placing them on the counter. His eyes were always so breathtaking; now they look empty. Soulness. 

You laugh. It sounds delirious. "But-but you said you were one of the only special grade sorcerers around." 

"Yeah." Satoru nods along. 

"Satoru...you're not making any sense..." 

"Really?" Satoru tilts his head. "What part of 'I killed your husband' is confusing for you?" 

He continues at your silence. "I mean, it wasn't like it wasn't for a good reason. The guy shot a junior high girl for cash. Knowing him, he's probably done worse. If you're asking me, I did a good thing by killing him--oh." Satoru pauses at your expression: horrified, broken.

He's smiling. You think that's the worst part. It's the same smile he's always worn. Playful and mischievous. 

"C'mon, you seriously didn't know what he was up to. I can't tell whether you're that stupid or if he was that good at hiding it." 

You should have denied it. You should have said Toji would never do the heinous act Satoru just accused him off, but can you? Could you honestly say that? You knew Toji was in bad shit. You'd always known that. He told you about the gambling, the drugs, the money. After he married you, he promised he walked away from that life, he was walking away with you. One last job, he'd said. Just one last job and he was done forever. 

Something that goes beyond money, Toji had said, something you would never understand. 

You can hardly breathe, sinking against the wall behind you as you collapse onto the floor. Your hands are pressed against your mouth, muffling your sobs as your eyes are filled with tears. Every interaction you've ever had with Toji is flitting through your mind. You can feel the bile in your stomach, threatening to leave your lips, splatter across the floor. 

Your husband was a murderer. 

Your husband was a monster. 

His fingers are cold as he firmly pushes your hands away from your face. You glance up. Satoru stares right back. His smile is gone, replaced by a frown. He squats before you, idly tracing his pointer figure around your cheeks, catching your falling tears. 

"He took everything from me, y'know," he says, quiet, low enough that the rain almost drowns his voice, "in just a day, my entire life changed. Someone died. A person I thought would be by my side my entire life disappeared." 

"But, I gotta' thank him. Without his help, I wouldn't have become stronger, and I wouldn't have you." 

You suck in a breath at that, but Satoru isn't paying attention. His hand traces down to your neck, feeling the skin. 

"I like to think that he gave me you as an apology of sorts. It's nice to think of it that way, right?" 

You look at him, absolutely horrified at how casual he was being. 

Your husband was a monster. 

And he’d left you with another one. 

Immediately, you slap his hands away. 

"Stop." You say, a weak hiss, "don't-don't touch me. Never ever touch me-" 

"Yeah," he interrupts, ignoring your wavering voice, "I didn't think you would jump into my arms after what I said, either. But, hey, a guy can dream, right?" 

What? And before you can think, he's pressing his lips against yours. 

It's not like his first kiss. Before, when it was soft and sweet and he barely pushed, like he was savoring you. This kiss was harsh. Filled with teeth and lust and endless greed. You can taste the inexperience, and the thought that this might be the second time Satoru’s ever kissed someone fills your head. The fight is almost pathetic as you sink into his hold, helpless to do anything but wilt until he's had enough of his fill. You push against his chest, but he only leaves on his terms.

You're both panting, but you're more frazzled. His lips are blushing pink, and there's a string of saliva that stretches before snapping apart. You can feel the way his hands are positioned on your hips. Disgust and self-hatred wells up within you.

"I meant what I said that day: I love you." You squeeze your eyes at his confession. "I mean, what's there not to love? You're sweet; you're hot."

His hands play with the hem of your shirt. You stiffen as you try to claw them off of you, but it doesn't help. You don't want to look, but you just can't help yourself. It's morbid curiosity. Looking at a car crash. Your eyes open and you stare at Satoru. 

"But I think the thing I love about you the most is that you'll never hate me." 

Two glowing blue eyes stare back at you. He looks ethereal like this. Even when he's kneeling, he's still taller than you. He's always been above you. Not just in height, you're slowly starting to realize. 

You always thought Satoru hated his last name. You always thought he blamed his lineage for his loneliness, his isolation. He grew up too fast, forced to become something for the sake of others. It's why you tried so hard to treat him like an equal, as though he were another human. 

When he leans in to kiss you again, you finally understand that Gojo never wanted to part from his last name. Why would he? It was always a part of him. It was your fault for trying to humanize and connect with him. You fought for years to see him as an equal that you neglected to ask if he even wanted to be on the same plane as you. 

Perhaps, once he did. Back when candlelight illuminated his face. When chocolate was the only thing you could taste.

"You can't hate me." He smiles against your lips. "You feel too sorry for me." 

"No matter what I do to you, you'll never hate me." 

You start crying again. Satoru hushes you, wiping away your tears in a way that suggests he's not used to being soft and delicate. Yet, he's trying to be. Soon, his gentleness fades, and his impatience seeps in again. It's all too easy for Satoru to haul you to your feet. He was the strongest, after all. You struggle anyway because you're human and your heart is filled with foolish hope. He laughs at your meager attempts to push him away, and you feel that this is all a game for him. Maybe it always was. 

"Satoru-Satoru," you're begging as he pulls you through his empty house, "you don't have to do this. Please just-" 

"See? You still aren't getting it." Satoru sighs, like he's disappointed before he's tossing you in a room. You flail against the bed, your chest pressed against the cushions before he's flipping you onto your back. It's worse when he's hovering over you, both hands on either side of your head, caging you in. 

"I'm not doing anything I don't want to do. I never have." 

You expect Satoru to kiss you again, that disgusting display where he rips you apart with his teeth, consuming you whole. Instead his pretty blue eyes flit to your clenched hand. He snatches up your wrist, easily unfurling your hand.

You react too late, only reaching up to stop him when he’s done pulling the ring off your finger. Satoru barely gives it an unimpressed look before he’s tossing it aside. You can only stare in the direction of it, watching as the last thing you had of him drops into the darkness. There’s two metallic clinks before it’s rolling to a stop. And then, you hear nothing.

He lets out a breath, like he’s relieved, dipping his head into the crook of your neck.

“I was so sick of looking at that.” He mumbles into your skin, giving it a playful nip. “Parading that thing around in front of another man like that. It’s kinda’ rude, y'know?”

You give another sob when his hands dig underneath your shirt. He presses on the softness of your belly, burying his face deeper into your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Fuck, you smell so good.” He groans into your neck. You can feel something press against your thigh.

You know what he was planning on doing, he made it clear ever since he dug himself into your skin with fangs. But the evidence. The hands twitching up your shirt, groping and feeling. The bulge grinding against your thigh

You can’t fight him, you stopped trying. Instead, you clench your fists again, letting the last of your tears drip down your face, praying and praying that what Satoru said wasn’t true.

Satoru isn’t nice to your clothes. You don’t know why you thought he ever would be. When he’s done with feeling and not looking, he pushes your shirt up, letting it catch just over the swell of your chest. He’s pushing your bra down, leaning down to trace your skin with his hot, wet tongue.

You jolt at the contact. It’d been so long since you’ve last been touched. He’s barely done anything and yet you’re already so sensitive. Something between a gasp and a moan is pulled out of your lips when Satoru swirls his tongue around your nipple, before he takes it fully in his mouth.

He’s tasting you, savoring you in a way you’d only seen him do for his cherished candy. He’s messy with it too, drool and spit spilling onto your skin, making you feel even colder than you already were.

Satoru has never stopped with just one candy, has he? He’s greedy, popping another and another in his mouth until the bag is all empty. It’s his natural essence to take until there’s nothing left. That’s why his hand trails down to your skirt, pushing it down before you can even decipher what he wants next from you.

You gasp when his hand presses against your panties, pushing them between your folds. The fabric lightly brushes against your clit, not enough for you to have any kind of relief. Still, a tingle jolts up your back.

“You’re soaked!” Satoru’s exclaiming. His voice comes out in the form of a laugh, light and innocent. It hurts to hear him sound like that. You have no more tears to cry again.

You want to tell him that it wasn’t you, that you don’t want him, that it’s just your body, but you doubt he cares about any of that. He pushes your panties down, letting them sit against your thighs before he’s pushing a finger deep into your wet pussy.

You can’t stop the noises this time. It’s more of a yelp than a moan, but Satoru takes it in stride as he continues to finger fuck you. When he digs a second finger into your hole, there’s a wet squelch of a sound. You have to turn away, but you can feel his smile against your skin. Victorious.

His other hands comes, pushing in between your breasts to keep you on the bed as he plants butterfly kisses down your ribs, your stomach, your hips, all the way down until he’s practically on his knees.

You were right to assume his inexperience. He’s sloppy, spreading his saliva and your wetness all over your pussy. There’s no rhythm, no clear pattern as he’s trying everything at once--swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit before licking his way into your hole.

And yet, it’s working. Your battered cunt responds to his enthusiasm, and your walls squeeze his fingers.

You can’t stop your noises. You don’t think he’s trying to stop his. His voice is muffled by your pussy, but he’s moaning and groaning so loudly. You think he’s saying something, but you can hear anything over the wet sounds of your cunt, the throbbing between your ears.

Your orgasm was inevitable, but you’re still surprised when it hits. Ramming into you like a train. Your back arches, and your thighs are involuntarily squeezing Satoru’s head. Keeping him there.

There’s a hum of satisfaction coming from him, but he doesn’t pull away. He folds your thighs, pushing them up into your chest so he can get more access to your pussy, sucking even harder on your clit. You were so far out of it that you can barely remember that this isn’t for you. It’s all for him. Satoru is greedy. It’s his natural essence to take and take until you’re nothing more than an empty bag, once filled with something sweet.

He doesn’t stop until you’ve come around his fingers and tongue a second time, when your cries are on the brink of overstimulation. When Satoru finally pulls away, the bottom half of his face is shiny. He keeps his eyes on you, messily wiping the remnants of you off his face before his leaning forward to kiss you, letting you taste yourself.

Unlike you, he doesn’t bother undressing himself. He’s unraveling his belt from his waist, pushing his pants down enough that he’s able to untuck his cock from his briefs. He’s already hard, giving his dick two cursory pumps before he’s settling his on either side of your body, keeping you there.

He’s big. Big enough that you worry he might actually succeed in breaking you. A semblance of rebellion, motivated by fear than anything else, stirs inside you. You push yourself up, elbows pressing against the mattress before he’s ending it.

There’s a grin, a flash of teeth, before he’s roughly pushing you down again.

“Satoru-“You start, you beg.

“Shut it,” he says, his smile too dangerous to be friendly, “if it isn’t begging me to fuck you, then I don’t wanna hear it.”

As though he’s taking the sight in himself, he hovers over you. The light from the window gently caresses his face in an angel kiss. His white hair is almost like halo, swathing him in an innocent shade of beauty.

When Satoru sinks his cock deep inside of you, you wonder if he’s defiling you or himself.

Just like before, he doesn’t bother letting you acclimate. He doesn’t wait, he doesn’t hold off. You can’t expect him too. Your pussy is squeezing him, edging him on. How could you expect him to not take it as a challenge and fuck you the way he’s dying to?

It’s exactly what he does as he bullies his cock deep inside your walls again and again. He whimpers, high and pitchy before he’s leaning down to bite and lick at your neck, your chest, leaving your skin with marks and bruises that will last for days.

Satoru loses his sharpness the more he’s inside of you. You cry when he leans down, circling his thumb across your clit.

“So good,” he’s mumbling into your sweaty skin, like a mantra, “so good so good. You’re so good. I love you I love you I love you-“

It’s torture to hear him say that over and over again and a part of you tries to force yourself to think of someone else to give you comfort. Scarred lips. Thick black hair.

You can’t.

Satoru has taken away everything, even your dreams.

There’s another gasp before he’s harshly gripping on your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are blown open, wide and manic.

“Say my name,” he’s begging but his grip is too tight to be anything but an order, “I-I need you to-fuck-say my name.”

“Sa-Satoru.” He lurches at that, almost collapsing into your chest.

“Again.”

“Satoru,” and then you say it again and again and again because your brain’s too muddled to do anything but listen to him.

His thumb is moving faster and faster on you clit, his thrusts are getting sloppier.

“Gonna-gonna fill you up,” An alarm of panic ring as he’s blabbering, words stilted and strained, “I gotta’—I just gotta’, can’t think of ‘nothing else—fuck fuck.” He adjusts your legs, folding your body in half so he can push that much deeper inside of you.

He smiles again. Wild. Unhinged. The monsoon that is Gojo Satoru. If you won’t wash away with him, then he is more than happy to drown you in his rain.

“Fuck,” he curses again, his voice a mix of a laugh and a groan, “think the kid would like a younger sibling?”

You can barely process his words. You don’t think Satoru could process his either. His orgasm triggers your own, and you’re both tipping over the edge together. His cum fills your pulsing cunt, searing your insides with white heat.

Satoru collapses on top of you, pressing you into the mattress of expensive sheets. You two stay like that, just the sounds of your harsh breathing fills the room. Satoru gives a shaky kiss on your lips, just as sweet and chaste as the first time.

He stays there for another minute, before he’s pushing himself up again. You can’t understand what he’s doing until you realize he’s still hard inside of you.

“Satoru—” it’s a plea, your voice overwrought with exhaustion, “Don’t—"

“One more, ‘kay?” he slurs, pushing his cock as deep as it could get inside of you, “Just—Just one more.”

You wake up hours later. It's pitch-black, the lights are gone. Distantly, you can feel Satoru's hand curled around your waist. He'd fallen asleep with his head buried in your neck. You can feel his rhythmic breathing against your skin. Outside, the rain beats on the windows, and thunder rattles in the sky. 

You wait for it—the anger, the hatred—for yourself to hate Gojo Satoru. 

He was right. Nothing came. 

[whensecretsrise]

The monster adoption fair was like nothing you could imagine. It was massive. Feeling as though it stretched on forever. Creatures ranged from mundane to outlandish. Rows upon rows of were-creatures- be it wolves or cats, naga or foxes or great feathered birds and more- all nestled safely within their kennels. A sign directed the way to where the centaurs, minotaurs, and satyrs were kept. You barely gave it a glance before turning down the next row. Tanks held merfolk and sirens, some muzzled for safety, and a number of amphibian and reptilian creatures. One tank in particular seemed impossibly large. The water in it so dark you weren't sure what could be inside. That was until a great suckered tentacle brushed along the glass.

Your heart kicked against your chest at the sight of it. Half primal fear, but the other half. Well, there wasn't any use dwelling on it. There was no way you could imagine what caring for something that large would take.

You wander deeper, giddiness welling inside you. The background checks you had to pass, the rounds and rounds of interviews you had to go through to prove that you would be a responsible owner. All of that and more was worth it to be allowed entry into the fair.

There was a temperature change in the next room you entered. Everything was warm enough that you were already starting to sweat before taking even a dozen steps inside. Demons, incubi, succubi, and plenty more beyond that all stared out at you through their glassed enclosures. The glass was thick enough that you couldn't hear their words, but the way they moved, so languid and sensual, had a blush rising to your cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat. The temperature slowly lowered as you approached the far end of the room. The creatures in those enclosures were more insectoid. Joints that seemed to bend the wrong way, appendages stranger than any you'd seen before. You couldn't help but pause to watch their twitching movements and how they traversed the structures in their enclosures. Beyond those lay more familiar creatures. Giant bees. Wasps with their wings beating so fast you were sure you could hear their buzz. Moths that had left a fine coat of powder from their wings on the glass. After a moment of awe you move on.

The temperature in the next room was considerably lower. A much welcomed respite from the heat. More tanks and enclosures filled this room. Your heart began to speed for you had made it to the room you had come for. Slimes of all sizes and colors pressed against their glass. There were plenty of humanoid slimes with big, soft eyes and coy smiles, but that wasn't what you wanted. You brushed past the larger tanks with barely more than a second glance. A smaller companion was what you were seeking. Something that wouldn't take up too much space, but was easy to cuddle with if you wanted.

You carefully inspected a number of tanks. Some of the slimes gave off a faint glow while others shimmered under the lights. There were even some that seemed to change from one color to another as they moved. Each one had a small description plate in front of it detailing habits, temperament, enrichment suggestions, and more besides. The wiggling masses within regarded you with varying levels of interest.

One, however, immediately perked up when you approached it. It was a beautiful pearl white that sparkled with golds and pinks. It swarmed against its glass, pressing itself as close to you as it could manage. Tentatively you placed a gentle hand against the glass. Doing so wasn't allowed, but you couldn't help the way it was drawn to you. A trickle of warmth passed through the glass and a wave of calm washed over you. This was it. The one you would take home had claimed you for its own.

You quickly scribbled down your guest number on the provided card, and took a copy of the creature's location card. The slime remind pressed against the glass as if watching you work. It was only when you began to walk away did it shrink back down to the bottom of its container.

It took a while to locate a staff member among the vast network of rooms and the other visitors of the fair.

"I would like to adopt this creature please," you said as you handed over the slime's identification card.

The worker scanned the card before giving you a sympathetic look. "Are you sure about this? This particular slime has been bounced back to us at least three times. It's very temperamental."

You recall the wave of calm you had felt when you were only separated from it by the glass beneath your hand. "I'm certain."

"Have you ever had a slime before?"

"No," you admitted, "I've never had the money to adopt one. I've been saving for years though, and I'm certain this is the slime I want."

"You might want to start with an easier one first. You being brand new to this and all. I can almost guarantee that this one will still be around if you decide to go looking later."

You shake your head. "I appreciate the advice, but I'm set on this one," you say firmly.

"Suit yourself," the worker shrugs. "Not like the poor thing isn't used to coming back here."

"I'm going to take great care of it. I've got my apartment set up and everything."

"Alrighty then. You can go ahead and head up front to pay. I'll have your slime brought up by the time you finish." The identification card is handed back to you.

As promised, there was a small, travel sized tank waiting for you after you'd paid and gone through the mandatory speech on slime care. You already knew most of it after years of research, but it did remind you of a few things you seemed to have forgotten.

You carried your new creature out to your car and buckled the tank safely in the front seat.

"Alright little slime, it's me and you now. I'm going to make sure you have a good new life. I'm not going to give up on you like the others." You pat the top of the tank and feel a vibration and a soft noise from the other side of the glass, almost as if the creature was purring.

Back home you carried the case over to the tank you had prepared for it and sat it inside. Only then did you open the travel container so that the slime had a chance to safely explore and get used to its new surroundings. You secured the tank lid and went off to put away the pamphlets that the adoption fair had given you.

When you returned the slime had moved into the big tank. It pressed itself against the glass as though it could sense you.

"Hey there, it looks like you're getting used to your new place. I hope that it’s big enough for you. It'll be a while before I can afford something bigger, but even then I'm not sure it would fit."

The slime vibrated again.

You smile and open the tank to remove the travel container. The slime oozed off of the glass and to the bottom of its tank. You stick your hand back down, fingers brushing affectionately against it. Another purr came from it. This time, the first time you've actually touched it, had it suckling at your fingers. Calmness washed over you again. Your fingertips began to tingle.

"Hey now, what are you doing?" You pull away with a laugh.

The slime follows you up, but releases you once your hand is nearly out of its tank. It sinks back down into a puddle and crawls to a corner as if sulking.

With another laugh you reach both hands down toward it. "Alright, if you're going to be mad about it, I guess I can let you out for a bit. We'll both have a chance to properly meet each other."

It surged upward into your hands. It oozed over the edges of your hands, but retained its overall shape. You carried it over to the couch.

The creature puddled into your lap. Bare seconds had passed before it was sending tendrils out to explore you. It wrapped itself up your arms. Retreated and slid along your neck. It caressed your lips and coated your stomach.

No residue was left in its wake. You had expected needing a full shower after taking it out of its tank, but perhaps not. Calmness had stolen through you, stronger now that the two of you were touching. The soft, lapping movements over your skin lulled you. Before you knew it you were stretching out across the couch, mind hazy with calm. Time passed and your eyes dropped closed. Your slime exploring you had faded into the back of your consciousness.

When it slipped beneath your clothes you barely noticed. Not even when it explored lower, seeking out the warmth between your thighs. By then your body was pliant and wanting. A wanting that stole over you on paws so soft that you couldn't remember not that want. Something secret, just for you. The slime drizzled like honey into your center. So slow and fluid you didn’t register the feeling. No, you existed in a state of such hazy serenity that it was only when the slime began to purr that you clicked back to reality.

The purr sent a jolt through you. A vibration that had your hands clenching into fists on pure instinct. Now you could properly feel the ebb and glide of it within you. Your hazed mind began to clear with your racing heart. Heat bloomed in your cheeks. Seemingly of their own accord, your hips began to rock. The slime began to spread. It filled you in ways it hadn’t before. A moan escapes your mouth. You arch your back, trying desperately to grind on thin air.

The slime moves inside you as if thrusting. Hitting you deep and slow. Even through your first orgasm it doesn't stop. It sent another wave of haze inducing calm washing over you. Keeping you right on the edge. Making sure you felt every millimeter of it. A tendril of slime draws out of you. It spreads to cover your center. The feeling of it sucking at you pulls another orgasm from your pliant body.

It wrings orgasm after orgasm out of you. The state of bliss and arousal is never disrupted for long. It ebbs and flows from orgasm to orgasm until, finally, the slime pulls away. It climbs up your sweat slicked skin to nestle against your chest, purring contentedly.

"Little slime," you whisper, "you and I are going to get along very well."

HAVE YOUR AGE LISTED OR CATCH A BLOCK

[reikiajakoiranruohoja]

One thing that eternally baffles me with people calling dog sports abusive, is how the offered alternative assumes that a dog is happiest when it is not doing anything.

Putting aside PETA and its anti-pet stance, most critique I have seen comes from people saying the dogs are forced to perform for humans and therefore its exploiting them.

But even a cursory understanding of dog breeds tells you this mentality is not only flawed but also ignorant of the needs of the animal.

For one, you cannot force a dog to do things most dog sports require. If a greyhound doesn't want to run, it won't. If a husky doesn't want to pull a sled, it won't. Have you ever seen a dog in a situation it doesn't like? Most of us have to drag our dogs to the vet and then try our best to mitigate the dog's displeasure towards the vet.

A dog who wants to do something like running or fetching will do it regardless of your opinion. That is why most of dog training is directing this want so the dog isn't destroying things or hurting people.

The breed or breed mix also affects things. If you get a chihuahua, the experience with that dog is completely different from a border collie or a husky. Heck, even closely related breeds like German shepherds and Belgian malinois are vastly different in their temperament and mentality. There is this call for ignorance and naivete in posts decrying dog sports, where breed doesn't exist and any kind of activity outside the home is harmful to the dog. Admitting that dogs have been bred for jobs is to admit that human contact is not always negative for animals and that is a bridge too far for many of these people. It also means that jobs such as ratting, hunting, protection and such are blissfully ignored or assumed to be forced by humans. This means that when a pampered terrier does maul the family guinea pig, the owner gets blamed for abusing the animals. Posts that tell you dog sports are evil are not made with the dogs in mind, they are made solely for an ideology that benefits humans who do not have to live with the animal in question and so can sit on their constructed high horse.

[fishnapple]

FUTURE SPOUSE - Channelled message: What they love about you

(can also apply to long-term committed partner)

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

1. Citrine

Loving you and being loved by you is like registering for a foreign language course, a never-ending one. At first, I was perplexed by your emotional distance, I could see it, your emotions, but I couldn't reach it. It felt like a wall was between us. I suppose my emotional expression felt foreign to you, too. Our language didn't match. But we persisted. We learnt and we've found some success.

You will find my neediness less annoying, and I will find your distance less scary. We've learnt to appreciate each other's endearing traits more, to admire rather than criticise each other.

I get to feel your care in such an intimate way. It's subtle, modest but warm, and it makes my heart squealed. It's like a perfume scent that lingers close to your skin. Sometimes you would forget that it is there, but you could still feel its effect on you, subconsciously, it makes you feel at ease, relaxed, like an invisible embrace. You always know me so well, inside out, even the smallest reaction wouldn't escape your eyes. You make me feel so appreciated, and I want to give you my unwavering devotion. We are, in a sense, the only existence in each other's eyes. (We still care for other people in our life, but no one understands us like us, no one sees us like us)

We don't show our love for each other in such an extravagant and boisterous way. We want to go about our life together quietly, to protect our nest. We are more alike in the way we function in this world than you think. Both your detachment and my attachment stemmed from a sense of solitude in life. The difference is, you want to embrace it, I want to run away from it. And when we are together, we enjoy our solitude together.

We get to feel life together in such a pure and beautiful way. I had never paid enough attention to little beauties surrounding me until I met you. Life takes on many more colours than before. It's vibrant, it's blinding, and it's moving.

Note: You guys could have some difficulties in the beginning due to differences in your way of expressing love. They are more attached and needy while you are more detached and distance. I don't think they are generally the needy and clingy type. They could just appear that way to you. But, gradually, you will learn to understand and adjust to each other. And that will be immensely rewarding. They will come to appreciate your more detached temperament, it shows hidden strength and also shows that you don't just overreact to situations, you will face adversities with calmness.

They love your quiet devotion and how you care for them in such a subtle and observant way. They feel seen and understood by you.

They will want to enjoy the quiet life that you share with each other. The type that goes under the radar, very private, not many will be able to intrude upon.

They also love how being with you makes them notice more beauty in life, to pay more attention to details. They learnt to enjoy smaller things, to find joys in ordinary days with you.

2. Red jasper

If you were a detective, a secret agent, or a spy, I think you would be very successful. Or are you one? Your silent moves would kill me every time. I didn't know that I could be attracted to something so dangerous. Why? The anticipation, the dread, it builds and builds in me, until suddenly, I find myself floating in the middle of dark water. I love it and I'm scared of it. The food you gave me, I'd never know if they were poisonous, if they had some kind of spell cast on them. Anyway, It filled my stomach, and it filled my heart. Full and contented. That's how I feel when I'm with you, minus the dread and the fear.

You don't say much, but your stare is enough, more than enough, it's intimidating, you know? Don't you know that people are scared of that? Or you've already known and you're enjoying it?

Whenever I look at you, I can't resist the urge to play detective myself. To deduct your thoughts and plans from those minuscule expressions on your face, your reactions. I want to observe them, to study them, so that, next time, you can't spring your surprises on me. Haha, fat chance, I will fail most of the times though. It's frustrating but also fascinating, especially when I see your surprising tactics worked on other people. A sense of sympathy, perhaps. Where do you get all those outlandish ideas from? Is there a recipe for the ideas generator with a 'totally explosive and secretive' tag on it in your mind? Do you have a production team working overtime behind the screen for you? Give me a hint.

You do whatever you want, sometimes you even moved away, change your address without telling me, knocking at my door in the middle of the night to tell me some irrelevant stories then walked away, telling me to go to the beach in the middle of winter. It's maddening, and it's addicting. I just want to grab a hold of you. I know it's impossible, but I always want to try.

Note: Are you someone who is on the quiet side but like to do whatever you want? Maybe you aren't, but they will view you that way. Your silence means unpredictability for them. They can't read you. And when they can't read someone, they perceive that person to be dangerous, they can't predict the other person's next move. But they love that feeling of uncertainty with you. It's scary but exhilarating, I think they have a liking for extreme sport and scary movies, anything that hints at a hidden, darker side.

They like your cooking, whatever you cook, even if it looks weird or unidentifiable, made from strange ingredients, it gives them a sense of uneasiness but also satisfaction.

They find you to be intimidating and inexpressive. They also like that other people are intimidated by you, is that a sense of camaraderie? A secret fan club. Your mysterious existence intrigues them. They want to probe into your mind to understand your inner working, with not much success, and that will even drive them more into it. It arouses them in every sense. They want to catch hold of that elusiveness, that uniqueness that you have. Be careful that it could translate to some possessive and obsessive behaviours from their part.

3. Amazonite

If you look closely at everything in nature, you will find that balance is everywhere, the equilibrium of randomness and order, of opposition and unification. And I find that balance in you too, because you are a part of nature, we all are, I find me in you and I find you in me.

You are the everlasting flame that burns. I got close and got a burn mark for touching you. But it's the mark that I would proudly display. Not to show off my bravery but to show off our closeness. You touched the softest part of me, the body hiding behind a tough shell. It hurts. It feels scary. It feels naked, but I wouldn't choose the other way.

How can someone so fierce and powerful like you can also be so tender and soft? softness could kill, strength could soothe.

I saw you walking on a strange road that not many dared to walk, but you seem so calm, so at peace, it made me curious, it made me envious and it also made me yearn to be with you. To walk with you, even if you don't need a companion. Are you chasing the moon, a faraway dream, a total darkness? Whatever destination you are heading to, I want to be there with you, for you, because I know my happiness also lies there as well. Your steadfastness gave me utmost trust and security, something that I didn't know I needed that much.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm seeing multiple people in front of me, but it's just you. I see a playful child, I see a wise wizard, I see a naughty trickster, I see a serious teacher. Somehow, they all act in union, a harmonious whole. It's ever fascinating. I could go to you for the soundest advice, then have banters that go nowhere and everywhere. I could go to you for the sweetest smile then having the rawest touch. What can I not find in you?

Note: This person practically loves everything about you. The love and the hurt that you can give them.

They find you to be their perfect counterpart, someone that they want to walk with, the one that can lead them to their happiness. They find happiness in their journey with you, no matter the destination.

They love how multifaceted you are. You seem to embody lots of different and contradicting traits, but it worked for you. You can harmonise them well into a fascinating being that they can't get enough of.

This person probably loves someone who can teach them, widen their mind, make them face their deepest part, but also be gentle about it. They love someone that know where they are going, someone who is very sure of their self, even if the path they tread doesn't mesh well with other people, I see the image of a stream (conventional ideals) feeding/pouring fear on a fish, but the fish just swims pass them. They find this steadfastness (their word) give them the courage to also go their own path and put their trust in you completely.

I think the way you act is pretty gentle, soft, and loving towards them, but it can also trigger them, touch them deeply, they can perceive a liveliness to you, as in someone who is brimming with life.

4. Labradorite

Hmm, the people seeing you be all smiley and warm probably won't be able to guess the wild animal that you've put on a tight leash behind closed doors.

Not with me, I will see it and I will love it. I love how you present yourself in such a soft, sweet way, then act all passionately when you are with me. Can it be called deception? I don't think so. It's just that you have such admirable self-control, you know when to hold and when to release, you don't just show your wild side to anyone. They have to earn your trust. I feel like the only guest in a private show. It boosted my ego, I will be honest. It makes me excited every time I get to meet you. Like a kid going to amusement park to watch firework.

You know how to play with words. Make it more flirty than necessary, but also make it into a soothing balm for the most agonising pain. I will tell you every time, to write a book, and I will be your most avid reader.

Being with you is me deciding to be brave, to embrace changes. You will bring changes into my life. Not intentionally. You just are. I found my life getting flipped upside down, being shaken, wrung out all the unnecessary grimes that had tenaciously clung on. I know that after they'd gone, you would fill me with real life. It felt like a dream before. Now I'm wide awake, lying on the shore, empty and liberated.

How can you give so much? Is there an infinite bank of fire inside you? Falling for you is like falling into the rabbit hole. It leads me into a strange land, expanding then contracting, being too big, being too small. Then, you will shine a light through a tiny hole on the sky for me to find you. I always know how to find you. The fire in me longs to be one with your fire.

Note: This person have so much passion for you. It's not just lust in a physical sense. It's more like your fire ignites their life fire and make it burn wildly. They can feel a passionate energy from you, it's generous and giving, like a sun. It's a life force that attracts every living being. I think that life for this person before meeting you had been quite dull. You make them feel alive. And to be alive is to be aroused, much like a seed sleeping underneath the earth, one day, sprouted out and kept growing.

They love how you're able to control yourself. They sense that you have a more wild side, an animalistic side to you that you just don't show to anyone unless they are deserving. They love how you present yourself beautifully and can also act passionately and assertively. You know when to be flirty, when to be serious, when to be soothing. You're probably have a talent with words too. They love your way of communicating, it's fun and creative.

[batterygarden]

can you help me, sensei?

contents: alpha! satoru gojo x omega! gn & afab reader. taboo dynamics (you used to be jujutsu tech student, he was/is a mentor figure), age gap, a/b/o, p in v sex with knotting and heat, manhandling (he’s strong), mult orgasms, gojo is bigger than u, barely there exhibitionism bc his house keepers are home, pet names, 1.8 k words

a/n: my contribution for @lorelune ‘s spring fever collab! ^_^ thanks for hosting <3 <3 <3

18+, minors dni please

Satoru’s sitting in his home office answering emails when you knock on his door, flooding the room with a certain tell-tale sugary fragrance the moment you step inside. Satoru sighs. You’ve only been staying with him two short days. This is what he gets for helping an ex-student in need, ignoring Nanami’s warnings about ‘sharing a space with an omega’.

“Hey bunny,” Satoru speaks slowly, eventually halting his typing when he looks up at you. “Something wrong?” (He knows what’s wrong. He knows that you know he knows. He’s buying himself time to reckon with it.)

“Uhm yes actually—” he feels a prick of guilt for asking. You’ll struggle to say it. “---I, uh, made a mistake.”

You inch your way closer, skittish but needy. Like he’s a stranger with food in his palms. Maybe that’s a generous comparison—Gojo can’t possibly come off that inviting. Maybe it’s as if he’s some murderous beast sleeping in a field of berries, and you’re starving. He needs to work on his analogies.

He scoots his chair away from his desk when you make your way around it, turning to face you with spread legs, inviting you in because he can’t help but want to. Your smell is so strong his mouth is watering.

“You’re in heat,��� he says matter-of-factly. You flinch from your halted distance of a yard away.

“I need help.”

“Thought you were on suppressants.”

“I am! I mean—I thought I was! I’m starting to—ngh,” He watches you rub your thighs together. “---think they were expired or something.”

“‘s that so…” Gojo thumbs at the edge of his blindfold, prolonging the inevitable. This is a bother.

You nod frantically, your expression pained. Desperate and pleading like maybe you really are starving.

Gojo is mad, somewhere. He should be, at least. Any logic is forgotten with the clean air he breathed before your dramatic entrance, though.

This is Satoru Gojo’s first time feeling the true pull of his instincts. They rid him of his renowned self control—a lifetime of careful barriers and walls and techniques, wiped away by his cock and your fucking pheromones. It should be laughable.

But the instincts rob him of humor, too.

“Does it hurt?” His voice is soft without trying—he’s genuinely concerned. You’re helpless, his insides are screaming—he needs to do something.

Your eyes turn glassy when you nod, and Satoru has to grapple with the way it feels like the world will end if they spill over. Or worse, maybe he’d get even hornier.

He shushes you, pulling you into his lap carefully, like your limbs are held together with school glue, gently tugging till you straddle him.

“You poor thing. So needy huh?”

Your answering pout makes his cock twitch.

“Need an alpha to fill you up?” He says it so soft, it’s like a lulluby.

He doesn’t expect your quiet temperament to reply, but you do. “Yes, please, alpha—sensei, I really need it.”

That’s all he can take before he’s rubbing his face into your neck, inhaling and licking at the sweetness there before he bites, leaving a permanent mark, relishing in your whines while a warm hand slots between your legs.

And just like that, you’re being mated with Satoru Gojo. A teacher from school that taught the other students in your grade while you were busy healing with shoko. The strongest man alive, your sponsor who agreed to house you briefly between moves, an enigma more than a man (and one you don’t even truly know, at that). Just sitting on his lap like this is far more intimate than the two of you have ever come infinitesimally close to being—exchanging small talk and a few mentor-related words of advice was the prior extent of the relationship. There were pet names, sure—but you’ve come to find those were on par for Gojo Sensei’s personality.

Now he’s got teeth in the skin of your throat while his fingers trace right through the center of you, only a thin layer of shorts in the way. You buck automatically, openly desperate, whining when that isn’t enough.

“you poor baby—“ sensei hums, his lips against your pulse. His tone is patronizing, but it soothes you regardless. “It’ll be okay. Gonna make you feel better.”

He speaks against your jaw now, dotting kisses wherever he moves while the sorry excuse for shorts you wear are pulled to the side, your panties with them, so he can really trace you.

Though they aren’t what you truly need, Gojo’s big fingers sate your ache in a way you couldn’t yourself—your body seems to mellow at the touch of an alpha, like it knows you’ll be taken care of now that he’s here.

Instincts less frantic, your sighed please alpha comes slow and heavy as he pushes two fingers inside of you, almost testingly. It’s slow—bordering agonizing—but you wouldn’t put it past gojo sensei to mess with you, even at a time like this.

Your slick floods his fingers at that small action, a whine and a buck of your hips accompanying, and satoru lets out an amused sigh.

You’re preparing to beg for him, plead to stop the teasing, but then… you’re on his cock before you can take another breath.

The relief is unparalleled. One minute he was dipping fingers into your entrance, slow and deceptively gentle before the next he was spreading your juices over his freed cock, pulling you onto him like he’d done it a million times. You suppose the familiarity is from those very instincts that brought you here—your chest practically sings now that they’re sated.

And so do you—you can’t control the cry you let out when he finally stretches you, feeling every ridge and vein of his heavy cock deep inside your tummy just where you’ve been needing him.

“That’s it, little lovie. You’re okay—hah!”

You’ve never heard sensei gasp the way he does when you roll your hips over his. It’s a strained, weak sound—the kind you’ve never known alphas to make.

He digs wide hands into the squish of your waist. “You’re tight.” His voice speaks directly into your ear as he tucks you into his chest then, scooting back into his trusty (thankfully armless) rolling chair so he can plant his feet and sink you down even closer. He makes light work of guiding your hips, the strength of the strongest shining through as he manhandles you up and down his length like you’re a doll.

And you feel like you’ve got the autonomy of one in his hands—his cock inside your tummy seems to hollow out your thoughts while your legs turn weak beneath you. Your arms remain to cling though, wrapping tight around sensei’s shoulders through your first release on his cock. The warm waves of it shock your system, and you cry out for your alpha when it hits you before he captures your lips in his.

Kissing satoru gojo is different from all your past experiences kissing. This one is so gooey and sweet it’s gross—the spearmint taste of his mouth reminding you just who it is you’re mating with. You flash back to Gojo dropping by to bug your sensei during your apprenticeship—dwelling on the way he’d talk to you like some silly kid. He’d always invade your personal space to tease you for no reason but to see you flustered, not that he needed to—you’d fluster easy just from his handsome alpha proximity, the minty smell of his breath.

It’s gross that such a mature mentor figure’s got you clamping hard on his cock now, tongue deep in your mouth to dull the sound of your whines.

But the disgusting nature of it all has you cumming in buckets—squelching on your sensei’s girth with every pump he guides you through.

You’re barely collecting your senses and drifting back to earth with Satoru pulls you off him, chuckling at the delayed clinging you react with. Of course you’re not strong enough to hold your body to his when he’s rearranging you—as much as you try—you have no choice but to get stripped and molded over Gojo’s fancy mahogany desk how he wants.

You’re still disoriented when he enters you again from behind, shoving himself deep deep deep till you’re so full you feel like choking from the stuffed feeling. It’s almost overstimulating when you just came so intensely, but the feel of your alpha splitting you still pleases your inner omega. More than that, you’re delighted.

“A-ahh! A-alpha—“

You can barely get out a word through his heavy thrusting, merciless and rhythmic.

“What is it, sweetheart? ‘S it feel good?”

Gojo digs thumbs beneath your shirt while he speaks, his anchoring grip around your sides surely leaving bruises. Not that you even notice how tight it’s become—all you have the sense for is his cock.

“Yes alpha! Th-thank you!,”

Gojo fucks you through orgasm after orgasm like that, till every pound against your flesh is wet and sticky.

It’s loud too, and, if you were in your right mind, you might worry about the fact that Gojo’s house keepers haven’t even left for the night yet.

You’ve lost track of your orgasms by the time sensei’s pace begins to show, his massive knot catching in your tight folds till he’s stuck deep inside you, while rope after rope of warm cum pumps you full. You finally feel that fever of yours beginning to fade once you’re flooded like that, coming out of your craze only to be met with exhaustion.

Of course you aren’t really done, sensei’s still connected to you with his knot, you can feel its delicious thickness where your body craved it most when you move your hips to go limp on sensei’s desk. You can feel the flood of his hot cum still streaming into you.

Satoru is panting for the first time in your memory, rubbing the soft skin of your hips while he recuperates before murmuring your name.

Then, “still breathin’, bunny?”

You make a little noise, nodding your head with immense effort, letting your eyes droop.

Only to open again when satoru lifts you with an arm beneath your chest, pulling you back till you’re both seated in his office chair. This way you’re still connected with you on his lap, cum still spurting into your womb.

He fishes your shorts from the ground, then, only to mop up your mess on his table, though truthfully most of it was still on each of your thighs.

At least with his table cleared he can move his desktop closer and finish those mission reports he had left—the solo ones he couldn’t pawn off.

You’re in a half conscious state around Gojo’s cock, breathing somewhat evened out with closed eyes, so gojo leans you carefully against his chest, with an arm on either side so he can type. Sure, the stuff on his computer was technically confidential, but you likely wouldn’t be alert for a while. And even if you were, did the whole classified document rule even apply to you anymore? It’s not like anyone could ask him to keep a secret from you, not now—not when you’re mated.

[just-some-user-hunny]

More Cannibal thoughts...

~ Cannibal is an ancient creature, yet he is far from brittle. He may ache and groan when he rises from slumber, but the way he carries his tremendous weight with those powerful wings that envelope the sky you could barely tell.

He's old, but not tired.

He's as full with fire as the day he hatched alone in his nest. With the temperament of a wild ferocious dog who's tail does not wag, hes full of pride. How can he not be? He has outlived many dragons. He survived the doom. He was here before the targarian blood came and imprisoned the remaining dragons to impairment.

He's survived off the blood and flesh and bone of his own kin, there is no softness to him. The countless tales of wannabe dragon tamers who have found their deaths awaiting in his stomach, or the nest of bones he resides in are far from fiction. He's untouchable, something he prides and revels in.

But then you came along...

~ Considering he's such a large dragon and refuses to wear a saddle, you'll probably have to pull a Daenarys targarian and ride bareback. A large part of this however is also a reflection of your bond. You keep him free of reigns and confining straps, and he keeps you safe and out of harms way whenever you ride with him. It displays the strength of your mutual trust, and how he isn't a tool to you. You are so close, scales to skin, that you are almost one. It may be terrifying to your family, but you'll never be safer. He has a thick spine of large pointy spikes and scales to hang onto. I also like to imagine that you somehow find a way to create some 'handles' that are tied to a few of his spikes for you to hang onto. It's not as constricting as reigns, and it's about the only thing he'll endure. For you, he supposes he can cope.

. He's a territorial dragon, and is such a grump about it. If another dragon even appears on your line of sight, he's all growls and bared teeth- letting this other dragon know you are off limits. He may even disappear like a disgruntled cat if he picks up a scent belonging to another dragon on you. (This does not stop Syrax from snuggling her snout into your hair, or Ceraxes from huffing his dragon breath all over you like a panting dog).

He'll press his scarred nuzzle to your hair, huffing and sniffing loudly like a dog- before the inevitable deep displeased rumble thunders from his throat. It never fails to make you laugh, such a giant dragon huffing gently over such a small human and then having a strop. You'll pat tenderly against black scales and exposed teeth to appease him- which usually works. As long as you sing his praises in the sky later. The chip in his scaly armour is you, after all.

~ He won't be confined to the dragon Pitts, he'll let you learn right away. Besides- it'd be too tempting not to grab a snack or two if he were to somehow squeeze his behemoth size into the little stone dungeons. He'll probably have to be kept on an entirely separate island near DragonStone, and even then he'll come and go. Do not fret though, he'll never dream of leaving you for long. He also has this way of telling when you're in trouble, and he'll come barreling back through the skies back to you- no matter the weather. You're his, after all. His human. No-one gets to hurt you under his claim and watch.

~ speaking about being under his watch, oh boy are you. There's never a moment in his presence where his eyes are off you. Since he probably bonded himself to you when you were young, he cannot help but see you as a fragile little child in his eyes. If his gaze isn't glued to you like a hovering parent, then he always somehow knows if you're in trouble or not. The bond between you two can be the only reasonable explanation. And there's nothing he adores more than seeing humans tremble and fall still like rigid corpses at the sight of him. Either it be his dark form encompassing the sky like a storm, his shadow forming a dreadful shape above their heads- a promise of dragonfire burning in his throat. Or perhaps his black scaly body descending from a rocky hillside, traversing down with his behemoth claws that piece rock. His eyes never off them as he slinks closer like a snake. A predator. You swear you can see him smirk when he does this, ever so the sadistic show off.

~ you'll find the word that leaves your lips the most often, is 'be calm'. Because oh, this dragon is the most aggressive of them all. He knows no chill, he wants problems. Always.

Either it be a soft mumbled word to soothe his hostile growls towards your father, or a firm yet calm demand before he decides to torch a group of knights who are only there to escort you somewhere, then best believe you'll have your work cut out for you keeping this monster at peace. You are quite literally the only thing keeping him at bay from devouring the guards and dragons around you.

~ I'll also touch upon the effect that riders have upon the relationships of dragons, because it's so beautifully complex. We all saw how Ceraxes sang at the sight of Syrax in season 1, so it's no surprise that the bonds between riders have an effect on the feelings amongst dragons.

So safe to say, Cannibal and Ceraxes are the most at each other's throats (figuratively... At least for now). They growl at each other, Ceraxes slinking his lithe neck back like a coiling serpent, hissing, as your Cannibal glowers and thunder rumbles in his throat. It's a game of who can hold back the most. So far, they're both winning. For now.

[gaypiece]

Trafalgar Law + going down on you for the first time

☁︎ it’s 2am and i have earworms for law giving head 🫣 this is my first smut so i apologize in advance if it’s bad

☁︎ pairing: Law x afab!reader

☁︎ word count: 2.3k im sorry

☁︎ cw: 18+ mdni, shy reader, oral (fem receiving), surprisingly experienced law, law is a cocky teasing bastard, afab!reader, gender not specified but contains use of slightly gendered pet names, no plot, all smut

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The topic of experience had never come up between the two of you. You were shy, but still had been with a few people before. You thought from Law’s temperament of being cold and distant that he might be a virgin, but you also knew how sex-crazed boys tended to be during puberty. You wondered occasionally if he had messed around at that age, or ever, but were too shy to inquire about it. Needless to say, you weren’t sure what to expect when your relationship with Law turned physical.

It was a quiet, uneventful day. You laid with Law in his bed that night, holding each other, enjoying each other’s company. It began with playful kisses along his collarbones, your fingers lightly tracing the lines of ink on his shoulders and chest, exposed by the wife beater he wore. He hummed in appreciation before lifting your chin to kiss you fully on the mouth. It was a gentle kiss, the tip of his tongue lightly tracing your bottom lip as his hands navigated familiar territory, trailing over your waist and hips. He seemed to grow hungrier, biting at your lips, squeezing at your already bare thighs, until he had you beneath him. Your legs wrapped around him as he ground into you, both of you letting out breathy sighs. His mouth found your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat before nipping at the tender skin beneath the edge of your jaw, making you gasp softly. You and Law had made out before, but this time was so much more intense, and you could feel how hard he was, pressing against you.

Still, it took you by surprise when he murmured against your jaw between kisses, “Can I touch you?”

Immediately, you turned bashful. “Do you. . . want. . . to?”

Law loosed a breathy chuckle, the warm air tickling your neck. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to.” His hand squeezed your hip.

”Y-yeah, you can.” Your voice shook with your nerves. “After, I can take care of you if you w-“

He cut you off with a kiss, his tongue greedily invading your mouth, causing you to whimper. He pulled back to murmur, “Don’t worry about me, doll,” placing another kiss against your jaw. He then brought his lips right to your ear, close enough that they brushed against it as he breathed, “Right now, I’d love nothing more than to eat that pretty pussy until you’re cumming on my face.” The feeling of his breath on your neck, on your ear, gave you goosebumps, your already flushed face burning hotter at his filthy words. It was then that you realized that Law knew exactly what he was doing.

Your body reacted instinctively. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your legs tightening around his waist at the thought of his head being between them. He responded by grinding into you again, his teeth tugging at your earlobe. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you.

His mouth returned to yours, somehow even more eager. Cold hands slipped beneath your shirt, trailing over your curves, lightly gripping at your soft skin. One hand slipped beneath you, fingers gently following the line of your spine. His other hand roamed higher, until it cupped your breast. Long fingers massaged the supple flesh for a moment before finding the sensitive bud of your nipple, pinching and tugging teasingly.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be irked with his teasing. You relished every touch he gave you, becoming putty in his hands, just as he intended. Still, your hands wandered over him, just as greedily as his. You gave a slight tug at the shirt that still clung to his chest. He hummed against your lips, understanding what you wanted.

He sat up, kneeling between your legs. You watched in fascination as he removed the tank top, revealing the toned planes of his abdomen. The black ink across his chest was stark against his tan skin. As your eyes wandered further upward, you noticed the sexy, cocky smirk that he gave you as you admired his body. His raven hair was disheveled from your hands running through the thick locks. He mimicked the motion now, golden eyes admiring you back as the matching ink of his fingers combed through the mop. The action mussed his hair even more, and you were taken aback by how breathtakingly gorgeous the man above you was.

”Like what you see?” he teased.

You couldn’t deny it, nor did you feel bold enough to tease back. All you could do was give him a sheepish nod, teeth digging into your lip.

”Me, too.” It was true. He enjoyed seeing you this way, cheeks flushed, lips puffy, pupils blown wide with lust. He had never seen anything more beautiful.

He leaned down to kiss you again, now slow and deep. His hands went to your sides, continuing to ease your shirt upward. The kiss broke momentarily as he pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but your panties. You felt the shyness return, being so exposed to him. You didn’t give him a chance to look, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to you for another eager kiss the moment your shirt left his hands.

The feeling of your bare chests touching sent a thrill through you, and your grip on him tightened. Fingers twisted into the hair at the back of Law’s head, you gave a gentle tug. You didn’t expect the low groan that spilled from his mouth to yours. Hearing that, you decided that you were definitely going to return his favor, even if it wasn’t tonight.

His mouth returned to your neck, biting at sensitive muscle and making you gasp. Your gasp turned into a whimper as his tongue eased over the bite. Slowly, he made his way down your neck, trailing kisses in his wake, along with the occasional nip. You couldn’t help but get lost in the feeling of him, admiring the way his lips and breath felt against your skin, the scrape of his teeth, the slight tickle of his goatee. This was bliss.

Law took his time making his way down your body. He seemed to be enjoying you as much as you did him, muttering sweet praises in between kisses. “So pretty. . . so perfect. . .” You were a desperate, whimpering mess by the time his lips found your lower abdomen. He bit down harshly just below your belly button, making you cry out, and surely leaving a mark. He pulled back momentarily to admire his work. When his eyes flicked up to your face, you didn’t miss the smugness in them as he pressed a soothing kiss to the sore spot left by his teeth. His gaze didn’t leave yours as he traveled even lower to mouth over your panties.

You didn’t expect your hips to buck up at the sudden contact. Law, however, simply chuckled at your reaction, “So needy.” By this point, you had had just about enough of his teasing. You threw your arms over your face, letting out a distressed groan.

”Hey, don’t hide from me,” he chided. He reached up to uncover your face, and you yielded, allowing him to move your arms. The smug smile he wore widened as he looked at you. “Are you pouting?”

You hadn’t realized you were. “No,” you denied, abashed. Your pout deepened, along with the flush on your cheeks as you turned away from him.

”You are,” he grinned. He repositioned himself so that your faces were level once more. He placed his hand under your chin, turning your face to look at him. You glowered. “You’re so fuckin’ cute,” he chuckled, capturing your mouth with his before you could argue. As he kissed you, he sucked softly on your pouted bottom lip, immediately making you melt. He always knew the right buttons to push in order to get you exactly where he wanted you. His lips parted from yours just a fraction so he could murmur, “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” Before you could respond, he was kissing you again. You hummed a “yes” against his lips, though it came out sounding like a whimper. “Good,” he praised, giving you another swift peck before reverting his attention to your lower half.

Law didn’t waste another second before removing your panties, leaving you fully exposed. He kissed along your inner thighs, still teasing just a little. You tensed in anticipation when his fingers carefully parted your labia.

His tongue licked a slow line, starting at your entrance, all the way to your clit. There, his tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves before closing his mouth over it with a tender suck.

”Ohh. Fuck,” you breathed, gripping at the sheets.

You whimpered as he hummed against you, sending vibrations through your core. “Delicious,” he mumbled, kissing your clit.

He continued this slow process of gentle licking and sucking, making you whimper and moan. You could swear that his mouth was magical, working over you so well. Combined with the sensation of his goatee brushing against you and his breath between your legs, you were in absolute heaven. Even better, you could tell that Law was enjoying this almost as much as you were. He put so much care into every little gesture, even in the way he gripped your hips and thighs. As you thought about it, the idea of Law enjoying you, enjoying pleasing you, it sent fire through your veins. Your hand found its way into his hair, making him hum against you once more.

Again, your hips bucked of their own accord, and his grip on them tightened. “Stay still for me, princess.”

You bit back a whine, clutching at the sheets and Law’s hair as he continued to slide his tongue over your clit. “I’m close,” you whimpered. One of his hands left your hip, and you didn’t have time to process what that meant before you felt two of his long fingers enter you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He timed the pace of his fingers to match that of his mouth, and it was almost enough to push you to your release. You stayed on the brink until he gave a slightly rougher suck to your clit, partnered with his fingers curling inside you. That was what finally made stars explode behind your eyes.

”Law!” you cried out. “I’m cumming. . .!”

He groaned into you, though you more felt it than heard it, struggling to control your own volume. He kept the same pace as he worked you through your orgasm, but continued even as you came down from the high. Both of your hands were now buried in his hair, weakly clutching at him. His hand that remained on your hip gave you a rub and a squeeze before reaching around your leg to brace his forearm across both of your hips. You didn’t understand why until his mouth and fingers quickened in pace. Sensitive in the afterglow of your orgasm, you couldn’t control the sounds that escaped you, nor the way your body squirmed and writhed with pleasure. His tongue now flicked over your clit repeatedly, relentlessly. His fingers were now knuckle deep in you, curled to continuously stroke that sensitive spot deep within you. He continued in this manner, persisting until another wave of pure bliss washed over you.

”Fuck, Law!” you nearly screamed. “Oh, gods.”

He slowed as he worked you through this orgasm, easing you down from the high. When he finally parted from you, a shiver ran through your body as you tried to catch your breath. You looked at him through lidded eyes. He gazed back with a smug smile, seeming to enjoy the blissed-out look on your face. Eyes locked on yours, he lifted his hand, still glistening with your arousal, and brought it to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean.

”Gods, you’re sexy,” you breathed. You reached a weak hand out to him. “C’mere.” He obeyed, moving to hover over you as he had before. You cupped his cheek, pulling him in for a sweet kiss. “You’re amazing,” you muttered against his lips. You could taste yourself on him. It was so erotic that, if you hadn’t been so spent, you probably would have taken care of him in return anyway. You told him as much, making him chuckle.

”I told you not to worry about me,” he chided, adding, “I did only intend to get you off the one time, but hearing you moan my name like that. . .” He shook his head. “I just had to hear it again.” The flush that had just started to fade returned as you turned away from him. “Oh, don’t be shy now,” he teased, grabbing your chin. “You were making such pretty noises for me.” He brought his lips right to your ear again. “Makes me wonder how pretty you sound while you’re being fucked.”

You grew more flustered with each word he spoke, your face turning redder. “Okay, time for bed!” you announced, pushing him off of you so you could find your clothes. He let out a low chuckle, allowing you to move him to the side. As you put your clothes back on, Law left the room, returning moments later with his face clean, glass of water in hand. He offered it to you, and you took it gratefully, your mouth dry from all of the heavy breathing you just experienced. He took the cup back once you drained it, setting it aside to guide you back to bed. You were so thoroughly worn out that it took only moments for you to fall asleep.

pt 2

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hi! I really enjoy your one piece writings, they have given me so much comfort when I don't feel okay 😭

Can I please get a Mihawk (I'm completely in love w this man aah) imagine where his wife is a sensitive person who gets sad when someone is rude to them but they feel insecure couse they think it's stupid

Thank youuuuuu ❤️🥺

First of all, I'm honoured that I can provide a source of comfort to you. I'm glad my work has made you feel better in your time of need.

Second of all: oh yessss bestie this hits the spot. It also reminds me of a wonderful scene in The Gentlemen (10/10, highly recommend) [it also hits close to home because I am a sensitive person]

The thing about strong people is that they make others want to be just as strong, which isn't always easy if even possible. You've always known you're a little 'softer' than most people but only after marrying Mihawk did you find the difference in temperament bothersome. Instead of considering your sensitivity a fact of nature, you've begun to find it a flaw, something that you should change about yourself.

You've never admitted it to yourself but the truth is plain and simple - you think it's embarrassing. That Mihawk will find your sensitivity embarrassing. Maybe if you had been up-front about it with your husband, you'd learn that he adores your soft heart. If he felt forthcoming enough, perhaps you'd even hear that you're the source of warmth and light in his life. Hence he calls you his 'sun'.

To say that Mihawk grew concerned when he heard your muffled sobs would be like not saying anything. A delicious euphemism at best. Anger and fear bubble inside his chest. There's a strange itch in his hands that eggs him to wreak havoc.

"Apple of my eye," his voice carries well through the rather empty room you're both staying at currently. "What is the meaning of this?"

Frantically wiping away your tears, you look over your shoulder to meet his gaze. Mihawk is leaning against the doorframe, blocking the entrance if you so wish to run away from this situation.

"Oh, it's nothing. Really, I'm alright. No need to worry," you half-heartedly attempt to reassure him.

The swordsman loudly exhales through his nose. He's your husband, worrying about you is his duty. In slow steps, Mihawk walks over to the edge of the bed where you're sitting. Pride and titles as if forgotten, he drops on one knee in front of you. One of his hands gently squeezes your knee.

Unsure what's the best way to go about these circumstances, you timidly meet his intense gaze. The passion in his yellow eyes makes you think of a maelstrom captured in a jar - something devastating held back by a miracle. He's already seething, just doesn't yet know who exactly to direct his violence at.

"Indulge me," he prompts you to confide in him. There's a rare sense of pleading in his tone.

So indulge him you do - you tell Mihawk all about the unpleasant encounter with a local tearaway. Your husband tries his best to control his expression as you recount the unambiguously offensive words, unwanted touches and threats of real violence coming from someone who was probably looking for a cowardly scapegoat to vent his anger. As you continue your story, tears just keep rolling down your cheeks, fear and humiliation finally finding their way out of your heart.

"I know I'm being stupid," you mumble as you clumsily wipe your face, "he was just rude and it's not like he actually hurt me but-"

Mihawk's touch makes you cut your sentence short. His hand, its skin rough and calloused, gently cups the side of your face. Your hot, salty tears disperse as his thumb slowly rubs them away. Something about the tenderness of his touch, of hands that have killed and maimed, is enough to make you feel like you're about to break in his arms. Even if you do, you know that when dawn breaks you will be whole again, put back together with the unending love Mihawk holds for you.

"You've always been too good, my sun," he tells you in a low voice. He could have said 'too soft' or 'too sensitive' but then his remark would come off as deceitful as it would suggest his dislike towards your nature. Nothing of that sort - Mihawk genuinely thinks you're a better person than most people walking this plane. And he'd rather succumb to torture than let anyone make you feel bad about that.

The man leans in and places his warm lips against your forehead. Without much effort, he lays you down on the bed and you let him. Even if you wanted to fight back, you're way too tired to do so.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed, caressing your face, neck, arms and back as he's waiting for you to fall asleep. The anticipation doesn't require much patience - Mihawk's tender touches lull you to peaceful slumber rather swiftly. When he's sure that you're asleep, he kisses your forehead again before cautiously leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

Perhaps he can't turn back the time and make the offending man choke on his words but he can ensure that the tearway won't hurt you ever again. Someone resting in peace so you can rest peacefully is a good bargain.

Mihawk knows exactly who he's looking for. He made a note of a certain characteristic trait you had mentioned - an earring with a single, red-coloured feather. It doesn't seem like a piece of jewellery that would be common anywhere.

It doesn't take much to find the tearaway. He makes his presence well-known as he stumbles out of a tavern, his legs almost giving away with each step.

So he assaults random women minding their business and then gets blackout drunk. It's pathetic enough to consider his death merciful.

Staying true to his name, the swordsman stalks his prey before lunging. Appearing as another patron of the inn, Mihawk follows the stranger around the corner towards barns, stables and pigstys. Fitting place for the likes of him, Dracule thinks to himself.

The man with the curious earring staggers his way towards a drinking trough. He's fumbling with his pants, desperately trying to pull them down to relieve himself but his fingers are not dextrious enough.

Mihawk picks up the pitchfork leaning against the barn wall. In one, swift motion he gores the tool through the back of the man's knee. A guttural scream tears through the night as he falls to the ground.

The swordsman grabs a fistful of the tearaway's hair. He forces the kneeling man to look up into his seething, yellow eyes.

"Do I owe you money?" The man is slurring his words. He squints his eyes, trying to focus his hazy vision on Mihawk and, possibly, recognize his creditor. "It's money, isn't it? Shit, just give me two days, man. I'll give it back with interest."

"I don't care about money."

Instantaneously, panic appears in the tearaway's eyes. Did he just find himself in the same position he's put hundreds of people in to cure his own boredom and need for grandiosity?

"Then what it is?!" he shouts, fear settling in his viscera. Dracule's calmness put together with the sheer hatred emanating from him makes for a deeply unsettling impression.

"You hurt my wife," comes the answer. The fist clenching the man's hair tightens its hold further, threatening to tear off his scalp. "My wife," Mihawk growls.

But before the tearaway can ask for clarification, his head is forced into the drinking trough. Surprised and scared, oxygen is escaping him fast. Soon, his throat and chest begin to clench and throb painfully. Dark spots dance across his vision, foreboding blindness.

Then, Mihawk pulls his head just above the surface. The man desperately gasps for air.

"If you believe in a god," the swordsman begins in a low voice shaking with anger and adrenaline, "I suggest you start praying. Fast."

The tearaway's head is forced underwater again but this time, Mihawk keeps it there until the ruffian's body stops trembling and shaking. After that, Dracule waits for a while longer - just for good measure.

You're woken up by the creaking of doors as they slowly open. Blinking sleep away from your eyes, you look over your shoulder only to experience a sort of deja vu: Mihawk is standing in the doorway. Before you can ask about his strange behaviour, your husband makes his way to you in long, quick strides. He kneels on the floor beside the bed.

Mihawk takes your hand in his. He takes something out of his pocket and places it in your palm. You recognize the red feather earring immediately. And is that... a piece of skin still attached to it? Gently, your husband closes your fist and lifts your hand to place a chaste kiss on your knuckles.

"The rat has paid for its sins," he whispers to you. Judging by the intense look in his eyes, you don't want to know the details of this story.

[pomefioredove]

sorry if you dont do platonic/kid reader posts but could you do headcannons of the dormleaders with a younger teen yuu (13-14) who had a bad homelife before and they see him as their older brother? like they come to his room crying and asking him to hold them? sorry if this doesnt make sence!! thank you and i love your work!! ^_^ <3

I very gladly do platonic and familial requests <3 I myself feel more platonic towards most of the characters ^_^

summary: housewardens adopting you as their younger sibling type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: platonic, yuu is gender neutral

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

believe it or not, Riddle is a pretty good brother

especially to someone from a home life similar to his

I suppose he recognizes it immediately; just sees pieces of himself in you

and I honestly believe he has a soft spot for younger people, even with his temperament

it's no secret that he favors you over everyone else

(even if he'd insist he treats everyone equally)

he lets you get away with things anyone else would be collared for

he pesters you about letting him help with your homework

you're invited to every Heartslabyul event

so on and so forth

and, much to everyone else's astonishment, he's always there for you to lean on

had bad day? failed an assignment? were being picked on? had a nightmare about your home?

well, that just can't do

he'll have you two freshly baked tarts and tea ready within minutes

and, of course, he'll gladly lend a hug if that's what you need

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫

it's no secret that Leona's home life isn't exactly dreamy, either

and his relationship with his brother isn't ideal

in fact, the very idea of having another sibling- especially a younger one- used to make him cringe

but... okay, he'll admit that you're alright

what? he's not heartless

and he just can't stand to see you struggling like a prey animal

so, sure, he'll take you under his wing

just until you get on your feet, that is! don't expect any special treatment from him just because he was feeling generous today

he's basically no help with anything practical

homework to do? not his thing

boy/girl trouble? don't you have any friends you could ask?

he'll give out advice when you need it, but Leona's got this idea that you need to figure things out for yourself, too

it's his strange way of... raising you?

(don't ask him why. he'll just get annoyed)

but if there's one thing he's really good at, it's providing that much-needed physical comfort

in his eyes, all he has to do is lie there

and he'll gladly give you a hug or a cuddle if it'll wipe that mopey look off your face

(don't listen to him; he really does worry sometimes)

𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨

his first reaction to you and your closeness is "what do you want?"

not in a rude way, mind you; when you first meet, he sees you as an excellent business opportunity

after all, you're leagues behind everyone else in school matters; and he has a helping hand to offer.

at a price, of course

and then, as time goes on and it becomes more and more obvious that you're not looking for anything but company... well...

sure, you're all alone here

sure, you remind him way too much of himself at a younger age

but why is that his problem? haven't you heard what everyone else says about him? he's shady! untrustworthy!

and... oh, sevens. he just can't bring himself to turn you away

what was once a business venture turns into a friendship

best friend/brother Azul is insanely overprotective

even though he doesn't show it, he's constantly worrying; are the other students nice to you? are they including you? is everyone treating you fairly?

will send Jade and Floyd to keep an eye on you when he's extra anxious

it takes some time for him to adjust to the idea of you being able to take care of yourself

but, still...

he makes it clear that on those days, the ones where you feel like running and hiding from the world, his door is open

you can come hide with him, instead

free of charge, of course

𝐊𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐥-𝐀𝐬𝐢𝐦

he adopts you immediately

literally just can't help himself; he sees you looking lost on your first day of classes and immediately takes you under his wing

Kalim already has a lot of younger siblings, he's used to this

anything you need, he's got it

hungry? he's already had snacks prepared

feeling homesick? he'll find you something to remind you of home

struggling with school? well... Jamil can help with that!

once word gets back to his family, they basically adopt you, too

no need to worry about having a home to go back to over breaks; his family has multiple!

he will never shut up about how great you are; literally introduces you to everyone as his younger sibling

treasures everything you give him and keeps it forever

and on your worst days, he's there for you then, too

as stated, Kalim has lots of younger siblings, he knows how it goes- and he makes a surprisingly good comforter

his hugs are always the best, too

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭

Vil already has a sort of motherly thing going on for him

he may be strict, but he's nurturing above all

and much like Kalim, he takes you under his care right away

you're still young, after all- and he knows you're not emotionally mature enough to handle all the chaos of NRC on your own

plus... well, he wants to leave an impression on you

after all, the sooner you start good habits, the likelier they'll stick

(he already has your skincare regimen ready)

it's the least he can do to help... you always seem very stressed, don't you? he wonders why that is

but he never pushes for answers, of course

he makes sure you're well acquainted with everyone from the dorm, too, so that everyone can keep an eye out for you

being Vil's favorite has its perks; soon, you're well-liked by anyone from Pomefiore

and friendly with most of them, too

(just don't let Epel influence you too much)

and Vil is always there; he makes plenty of time in his week just to speak to you

he wants to make sure you're adjusting well, after all

and any problems you have, he'll deal with personally

𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝

it's more likely that Ortho bonded with you and took you in first

after all, you're closer in age than anyone else at school

you may even share a few interests!

but, of course, Idia's initial reaction was No. "Ortho, you can't just pick up random kids off the side of the road,"

...so to speak.

but somehow, you keep ending up in his dorm room to hang out

he avoids you at first, but the longer you're around, the more accumulated he'll become

when it gets to the point where he's teaching you how to play all his favorite games, it's so over for him

he's fallen right into Ortho's trap

much like Azul, Idia is a liiiittle overprotective

he's had some less than ideal experiences with siblings, after all

so maybe he's a little bit of a helicopter mom

that is, constantly watching you because he's deathly worried something's going to happen to you

(it takes a lot of convincing from Ortho before he relaxes a little)

and, of course, his doors are always open

he'll even pause his game if you come in looking upset

he just can't focus when you're all sad like that, see? now come inside and tell him what's wrong before he starts overthinking and goes into anxiety mode

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚

Malleus has had enough experience with children. according to himself, anyway

he was somewhat of a brother to Silver, and holds Sebek in... a slightly similar regard

but somehow, you're completely different

for one; you're magicless, and thus can't defend yourself like everyone else can

for another; you come from a different world

and you seem very reluctant on sharing details about your past

which just confuses Malleus. are you worried he will judge you for not having any magical abilities? surely, you must trust him better than that?

it's really Lilia who's able to guess that you had a rough home life. just something about the way you conduct yourself- he's seen it before

he asks Malleus to be gentle with you, and not to pry too much

which he seems to accept

much like the aforementioned, he's a little overprotective

okay, a lot overprotective

he holds those he views as family very close to him, and you're no exception

you're invited to every Diasomnia event, Silver and Lilia pitch in on all your tutoring needs, and no one would dare mess with the beloved younger sibling of Malleus Draconia

although he still makes an effort to understand all of your emotional needs

he gladly accepts all hugs and cuddles, too

[diejager]

could you write something for stepdad alejandro and dbf rodolfo?🩵

Cw: stepcest, praising, worshipping reader, fluff, barbecue, cheating, tell me if I missed any. Note: I stuck with the “canon” age, meaning Rudy and Alejandro are in their late 30s or early 40s.

Mexican summers were always warm - warmer than what you were used to when you were living farther up - with it’s blazing sun and vivid fauna that seemed to glow under the heat and clear blue sky. Thankfully, the air wasn’t stale, neither dry nor humid, but a equal temperament with a soft breeze that cooled the sweat that clung to your skin. You hadn’t dared wear anything other than your bikini when you stood in the busy backyard barbecue your mom and your stepdad had decorated and filled to have guests and friends alike over in the mids of a beautiful July. Unlike many of the older women who covered up in a dress or loose pants out of traditionalist convenience, their children - a cousin or a friend, young adults who were as rambunctious as you - were unabashedly prancing around in thin-strapped bikinis and low trunks, all happy to take in the warmth on their bronze skin. 

Some people you knew, others you didn’t, Alejandro often invited his ragtag group he called Los Vaqueros to every barbecue if he could, his bright and joyous smile lifting the corners of his lips while he flipped the spiced beef kebab he left marinating yesterday. You couldn’t say you knew them very well, boisterous and proud people, but you were familiar with his right-hand man, sweet Rudolf who seemed to loved pampering you as much as he adored you. A man of softness and tender praises, the rough texture of his fingers carefully holding your hips, massaging the fatty rolls and whispering compliments, affectionate confession about how pretty and perfect you were.

“Muñequita, ” Rudy mumbled, pulling you towards him by your waist in open affection, letting others see how close he was to you, arm wrapped around your back and cheek pressed to yours, a smile lighting up his face with every flustering words he let slip down his tongue, “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, lashes fluttering from how close his lips were to yours, his minty and warm musk filling your sense as much as it drowned out all your thoughts, “Why?”

He chuckled at your flustered and glazed expression, your lips pulled in a small and adorable pout while you clung to him, leaning your weight into his side as if you attempted to stand closer and closer to him despite being wrapped up in him arms:

“Ale and I were thinking of taking you out. That new restaurant you mentioned? We managed to reserve a table.”

“What?!” You turned to stare at him, gaping admiringly, “I- How’d you even do that? I’ve tried so many times and they always seem to be booked!”

“Well, Ale pulled some fa-”

“Honey!” Your mother called out to you from her side of the garden, surrounded with friends near the food table, “Could you go down and get more beers?”

“Of course, Ma!” You clambered out of the pool, water dripping down your thighs while you patted yourself dry, “Sorry, Rudy, I’ll be right back.”

You caught him smiling at you before you slipped through the kitchen door, carefully stepping down the basement-turned-man-cave’s stairs to get the beers out of the fridge. Finding the right pack, your bent down to rummage through the back to reach it when you felt hands grasp your hips. You jolted, eyes wide as you peered over your shoulder-

Only to see Alejandro’s shit eating rain, wild and blazing, smirking down at you with his crotch pressed to your ass. You swallowed thickly, watching the corded muscles of his arm flex and his swimming trunks hanging low, a bit of trimmed hair peaking out to tease you. 

“Thought I’d come down and help.”

Your body burned under his lidded gaze, thick and heavy, weighing you down with a churning in your core,

“Seems like more than just help.”

He laughed, a low bellow that rocked you forward, his shoulders shook and eyes gleamed so brightly, but mischievously. He was like the sun, hot and boisterous, and Rudy the ocean, all embracing and calm.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[one-flower-one-sword]

There's a thing I've noticed that repeatedly crops up in the (English) fandom portrayal of hualian's relationship, where Xie Lian is shown as dismayed and put off by Hua Cheng's attitude towards other characters, oftentimes openly criticizing him and wanting him to "do better", to be more polite and/or to be more openly caring towards others. I found this at first perplexing and then increasingly upsetting, but I've debated for a long time if and how to post about it, because I don't want this to come across as a kind of call-out post or veiled personal attack.

So I hope people take this post as a genuine exploration of canon vs fanon hualian, and understand that I think it's something worth exploring because I feel that this particular fanon portrayal creates a problem in hualian's relationship that simply doesn't exist in canon - more than that even, it makes a problem out of one of the core strengths of their relationship.

I've mostly noticed this kind of portrayal pop up when it comes to the way Hua Cheng interacts with Mu Qing and Feng Xin, the Ghost City citizens, and Shi Qingxuan. I'll therefore focus on how Xie Lian reacts in these instances - since that's really the crux of the matter, that in fanon Xie Lian reacts negatively towards Hua Cheng in these instances - though I'll also use scenes with other characters when they become relevant.

This is when Hua Cheng, still in his San Lang disguise and knowing full well who "Fu Yao" and "Nan Feng" are, pointedly asks Xie Lian if they're his servants and throws a broom to Mu Qing to rile him up:

"Calm down. Calm down. I only have one broom -"

Before Xie Lian could finish his words, he was cut off by a burst of white energy that shot out from Fu Yao's hand as he bellowed, "Reveal yourself!!"

San Lang stayed where he was, arms still crossed in a relaxed posture, but he tilted his head just slightly as the beam of energy narrowly missed him and smashed one of the altar table's legs. The table collapsed with a loud crack and all the plates crashed onto the floor in a heap. Xie Lian rubbed his temple and thought this had to stop. With a wave of his hand, he released Ruoye and bound Nan Feng and Fu Yao's arms. Both men struggled but failed to break free.

"What are you doing?!" Nan Feng shouted. Xie Lian made a gesture for a time-out. "We'll talk outside. Outside." Then he waved his hand and Ruoye flew out, dragging the two in tow.

"I'll be right back," Xie Lian said to San Lang, then closed the door behind him.

Vol 1, page 216

Xie Lian does react exasperated and annoyed - but with Mu Qing and Feng Xin's attitude, not with Hua Cheng's. Keep in mind that he's already suspecting by this point that Hua Cheng is a Supreme, but he reprimands them for attacking "San Lang" just because they think he's odd:

"Nan Feng, that's where you're wrong. There are all kinds of people with various temperaments and mannerisms in the world; odd doesn't mean dangerous. [...]"

Vol 1, page 217

And impresses upon them repeatedly to be nice to "San Lang" and treat him well, then goes on to apologize to him for their rude behavior:

Nan Feng said in a low voice, "No. We still have to think of a way to test if he's a Supreme."

Xie Lian rubbed his forehead. "Go ahead and try, but don't go overboard. What if he really does turn out to be a runaway young noble? I get along pretty well with this kid, so be nice. Don't bully him."

The "don't bully him" made Nan Feng screw up his face, and Fu Yao's eyes rolled to the back of his head. Xie Lian nagged a bit more before reopening the door. San Lang was checking out the broken table leg, and Xie Lian cleared his throat to get his attention.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm alright," San Lang smiled. "Just checking to see if we can fix this table leg."

"Everything just now was a misunderstanding, please don't mind them," Xie Lian said warmly.

Vol 1, page 218

And it's not just that he defends "San Lang" from Mu Qing and Feng Xin's animosity and judgement - Xie Lian enjoys Hua Cheng's sharp wit and the way he wields it like a sword:

Fua Yao smiled without mirth. "This young master sure knows a lot."

San Lang smiled back. "It's nothing. You just don't know very much, that's all."

"..."

Xie Lian smiled in spite of himself, amused by San Lang’s sharp tongue.

Vol 1, page 221

This pattern continues throughout the entire novel so there are several other examples, but there's another scene I want to draw attention to. This is when they're at Mount Tonglu and Mu Qing is trying to mess with the statues despite being warned against it by Hua Cheng:

"I'm only trying to touch the stone now, not remove the veil. Why is Crimson Rain Sought Flower stopping me again?" Mu Qing questioned.

Hua Cheng shot him a fake-looking smile. "I'm preventing you from causing problems."

Xie Lian put himself between the two. "Stop, stop. It's not like we have to see which god is being worshipped here. We shouldn't stay here too long anyway, so let's just go. Don't forget that we still have a mission to accomplish."

Hua Cheng stared at Mu Qing's hand. "Since that's what gege wants, have him put his hand away and I'll let it go."

"Mu Qing, back off, all right?" Xie Lian said.

Mu Qing glared at him. "Are you nuts? Why shouldn't he back off first? What if I back off and he doesn't?"

Between a heavenly official and a ghost, Feng Xin naturally chose to stand on the side of the heavenly official. "At most, we'll accept both sides standing down at the same time."

Hua Cheng showed no signs of doing so. "You wish."

Seeing that neither side would give in, Xie Lian rested a hand on Mu Qing's arm. "Mu Qing, drop it," he urged gently. "You're the one who started this, so you should be the one to let it go. All right? Can you think of it as giving me some face? I swear that if you back off, San Lang will keep his promise."

Although Mu Qing was clearly reluctant, he held the stalemate for another moment, then slowly dropped his hand. They all returned to the road. Finally, the tension relaxed, and Xie Lian sighed in relief.

Vol 6, page 44-45

And then when Hua Cheng picks the path for them at the next fork in the road:

Feng Xin frowned. "How can you pick randomly? Let's not go blindly - we might tumble into another pit."

Hua Cheng smiled. "Even if we fall into a pit, I have ways to pull His Highness out. You can follow us if you'd like, or you can head off on your own if you'd prefer. To be honest, I'd rather not have to rescue you again."

"You-!"

That was just the way Hua Cheng spoke - even if he had a smile on his face and his words were perfectly polite, it always sounded fake. The faker his smile, the more his tone enraged people, so much that Feng Xin nooked an arrow on his bow.

Xie Lian knew that he wouldn't actually shoot. "Sorry about this, Feng Xin. But considering our current situation, it really makes no difference which way we go."

Hua Cheng laughed heartily. "Ooh, I'm scared. Looks like I'd better stay far away from you." He waggled his brows at Xie Lian and really did put some distance between them. Xie Lian knew he was just trying to leave the other two behind, and he smiled as he shook his head.

Vol 6, page 45-46

Several things can be gleaned from this. First of, this is happening before Xie Lian finds out who Hua Cheng really is and what the deal with the statues is. He doesn't know why Hua Cheng doesn't want them unveiled, but he still trusts his decision and his judgment over Mu Qing and Feng Xin's, and it's Mu Qing he asks to stand down, not Hua Cheng. Now you might be saying, well Mu Qing and Feng Xin were right about Hua Cheng being a Supreme Ghost King and they were right to be suspicious about the statues. But there's a second insight to be gained from this scene - Feng Xin doesn't side with Mu Qing because he thinks he's in the right, be sides with him because Mu Qing is a god and Hua Cheng is a ghost. Their animosity and constant suspicion towards Hua Cheng is based on what Hua Cheng is, based on prejudice. And Xie Lian knows this.

Lastly, Xie Lian's reaction in the above quote is, again, to back Hua Cheng up and then be amused by the way Hua Cheng pushes back against Mu Qing and Feng Xin's antagonistic behavior.

This continues all the way up to the end of the novel:

The group of heavenly officials didn't look like they wanted to sit; they probably had only stopped by to congratulate him and quickly show their faces. After delivering their gifts, they left in a hurry.

Xie Lian turned to Mu Qing. "Why did they leave in such a rush?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Mu Qing said.

"Well, yeah."

"Then why don't you ask your dear San Lang?" Mu Qing spat crankily.

When Hua Cheng came back, the first one to know was Xie Lian. Second to know were the gods of the Upper Court, who hadn't even warmed their seats yet in the new Heavenly Capital. On the day of the Shangyuan festival, they had worked so hard to put together a Battle of the Lanterns...which was abruptly obliterated by Hua Cheng's casual wave of three thousand lanterns, the same move he'd pulled at the Mid-Autumn Banquet. In addition, the heavenly bell had been tolling nonstop ever since that night. The entire Upper Court echoed with its ceaseless reverberating gongs, as if it were reminding them that the Nightmare of the Heavens had returned!

And right now, the Nightmare stood before them; no normal heavenly official would dare approach. However, they still wanted to get in Xie Lian's good graces so they could beg Hua Cheng to show them some mercy in the future. After all, the gossip about the relationship between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian in the Upper Court was already fairly lurid with no need for exaggeration.

When he heard about this, Xie Lian recalled how Hua Cheng had demanded the Upper Court proclaim his heroism for an entire year. "Cheeky," he said with a laugh.

Vol 8, page 153

Again, Xie Lian is openly amused at the way Hua Cheng keeps the other gods on their toes and deliberately annoys them. Mu Qing complains about Hua Cheng's behavior and Xie Lian's reaction is that actually he thinks it's funny and cute. I could not find a single instance where Xie Lian takes Mu Qing and/or Feng Xin's side over Hua Cheng's, much less demands Hua Cheng treat them differently or apologize to them. It is consistently the other way around. (With good reason too, but if I get into that this already lengthy meta will get even longer and stray off topic).

The situation with Shi Qingxuan is similar. I've repeatedly seen people portray it as though Xie Lian should be angry with Hua Cheng over his involvement with He Xuan and demand he betray him and help Shi Qingxuan instead. But when whe look at canon:

"It's too late," Xie Lian muttered. He shut down the communication array and whirled around. "San Lang."

Hua Cheng seemed like he'd already anticipated his question. His hands were clasped behind his back as he gazed at him in solemn silence.

"Did the two of you reach some kind of agreement a long time ago?" Xie Lian asked. Hua Cheng didn't immediately respond. Just as he began to move his lips, Xie Lian quickly reassured him of his intent. "No, no, no, don't tell me! You don't have to answer. If you had a prior arrangement with someone, don't go back on your word on my account. I wouldn't want that. It's my fault for asking so suddenly; I didn't mean to put you in a difficult position."

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," Hua Cheng murmured.

Xie Lian shook his head. "Don't apologize. I should’ve thought of this before. That arrangement must have prevented you from interfering, and from directly telling me the truth."

Hua Cheng had tried to talk him out of it, but he hadn't interfered with Xie Lian's wishes. He accompanied and protected him the whole way, with an escape plan already prepared - except at every turn, something always came up that dragged Xie Lian deeper into the affair. "I should be thanking you," Xie Lian said.

Vol 4, page 215-216

The same way Hua Cheng respected Xie Lian's autonomy and choices, Xie Lian respects his. And not in a bitterly resigned way either - there is no evidence of Xie Lian feeling any kind of resentment towards or moral superiority over Hua Cheng for the latter's agreement with He Xuan. In fact, he apologizes once he realizes that he puts Hua Cheng in a difficult spot by asking about it and also thanks him for both letting Xie Lian make his own choices in this complicated situation and also making sure he wouldn't get hurt by involving himself. And this doesn't only happen once but two more times at least:

Was Shi Qingxuan dead? Did Black Water Demon Xuan reinforce his barrier? No matter the reason, he couldn't return to Shi Qingxuan's body. Even if he rushed to the South Sea that very moment, he'd almost certainly be too late.

Seeing how disconcerted Xie Lian was by this development, Hua Cheng said, "Your Highness, I'm sorry."

Xie Lian looked at him.

"But outsiders shouldn't interfere in this affair," Hua Cheng added.

Xie Lian waved dismissively. "...You don't need to apologize. Honestly, I wouldn't be able to do much even if I were there."

Vol 4, page 254

Hua Cheng flashed a brief smile. Then he said, "I thought gege would blame me."

Xie Lian shook his head. "San Lang doesn't need to overthink things. I really don't blame you. In fact, you were right about this whole thing. Outsiders really...can't possibly interfere."

Vol 4, page 260

Hua Cheng feared Xie Lian would blame him for his involvement but chose to do what he could to both respect Xie Lian's autonomy and protect him while going along with what Xie Lian chose to do. Xie Lian recognizes this and is grateful for it, and now that he knows how complicated the whole situation really is he also understands where Hua Cheng was coming from with cautioning Xie Lian against involving himself. It would make no sense for Xie Lian to be angry with Hua Cheng or even demand him to interfere because he understands that Hua Cheng's stance and his choices come from a place of wisdom and of respect and protectiveness in regards to Xie Lian himself.

He also defends Hua Cheng when Pei Ming demands Xie Lian leverage his relationship with Hua Cheng against the latter to make him assist in finding Shi Qingxuan because he knows how unfair that would be towards Hua Cheng, aside from the fact that it wouldn't be that simple anyway because of how complicated the situation is:

"Your Highness, why not talk to that Crimson Rain Sought Flower of yours, instead of waiting around while the Palace of Ling Wen drags their feet like an old ox pulling a broken cart?" Pei Ming asked. "Can't you have him ask that mad ghost Black Water where he's taken Qingxuan? He already took Water Master-xiong's head - what more does he want?"

Xie Lian shook his head. "General Pei, please don't assume such things are doable," he replied helplessly. "Does one Supreme Ghost King need to keep the other informed on whatever he wants to do?"

With that, Pei Ming didn't say anything more.

Vol 4, page 265

Lastly, there's Ghost City and the way Hua Cheng runs it and treats its citizens and his subordinates. I've often come across Xia Lian being portrayed as though he wants Hua Cheng to change things, for example the way he runs the Gambler's Den, based on how Xie Lian expressed concern over it when he visits it the first time. I've already touched on this in more depth in a different post so I won't go into great detail again here, but when we look at what Xie Lian thinks and says, it becomes clear what he's actually concerned about:

After some hesitation, Xie Lian spoke up again. "San Lang, it may be out of line for me, but I still have to say it. That Gambler's Den of yours is incredibly dangerous. Won't it blow up in your face one day?"

A place that allowed the betting of sons and daughters and people's lives, granting wishes for others' sudden death - it was dreadfully sinful. Never mind a little brawl; if one day the bets got out of hand, the Heavenly Realm wouldn't be able to stay on the sidelines.

Vol 2, page 107

Xie Lian's worry about the Den is motivated by his worry about Hua Cheng, about his fears that something might happen to him if the Heavens aka Jun Wu decide to actively interfere. Xie Lian knows that Hua Cheng is already on Jun Wu's radar in regards to the Ascending Fire Dragon spell having come from an area near Ghost City, and though he still trusts Jun Wu he knows firsthand how terrifying Jun Wu can be in a battle.

I've also sometimes seen Xie Lian portrayed as wanting Hua Cheng to change the way he speaks to Ghost City's inhabitants. However, this is what happens when Lan Chang sets fire to Paradise Manor as a diversion for stealing the fetus spirit and the citizens put out the fire:

They hurried back to Paradise Manor, and on the way, the main street was laden with smoke and jammed with little ghosts and monsters frantically running back and forth with buckets of water. When they saw Hua Cheng and Xie Lian approach, they all called out. "Chengzhu! Don'tcha worry yer ol' lordship, the fire ain't big, it's already out!"

Hua Cheng gave no reaction, but Xie Lian let out a breath of relief. "Thank goodness! Thank you, everyone, for your hard work," Xie Lian gently praised them.

The little ghosts hadn't expected any kind of gratitude at all - not to mention that the "thanks for your hard work" came from Chengzhu's friend! They became quite excited indeed.

"Not hard! It's nothin' major!"

"It's our duty!"

Only then did Xie Lian realize that this show of gratitude was rather inappropriate, as he wasn't the master of the establishment. However, since Hua Cheng didn't say anything, it probably wasn't too horrible that Xie Lian took initiative to do so. He briefly reprimanded himself mentally, then stopped worrying about it.

Vol 3, pages 334-335

Xie Lian doesn't praise and thank the ghosts because he thinks Hua Cheng should do it, he does it because that's simply in his nature. And then he worries about it being impolite because he's not chengzhu and feels it's not really his place. He deeply respects Hua Cheng's authority over his own territory and also understands that Hua Cheng simply isn't the kind of person to talk this way and that there's nothing wrong with it. It's also important to keep another thing in mind that I've mentioned in other metas, that Hua Cheng's care and sense of justice show through his actions, and that because he doesn't speak of them, we most of the time only learn of them through other characters:

Xie Lian said to Hua Cheng, "I will make a trip to the Upper Court this instant and report this case."

While Lan Chang protested, she knew she couldn't stop him. After snapping out of her shock, she suddenly knelt down and prostrated before Hua Cheng. "Chengzhu, thank you for your kindness and grace in sheltering me!"

Vol 3, page 347

I've seen something similar also crop up in regards to Yin Yu. I've already written an in-depth meta analyzing Hua Cheng and Yin Yu's relationship and how I feel it's often mischaracterized in fanon as Yin Yu being exploited by him when it's actually the Heavens who treated Yin Yu that way. So I'm not going to go over all of that again here, but I couldn't find a single instance in canon where Xie Lian ever expresses the need to praise Yin Yu on Hua Cheng’s behalf or anything of the sort. When Xie Lian meets him properly for the first time without his Waning Moon mask and sees Yin Yu work and take orders, this is his reaction:

Xie Lian noticed that Yin Yu had included him in the question, which confused him. "You don't need to ask me," he replied gently.

"It's all the same," Hua Cheng said. "What does gege think?"

Xie Lian thought it over. "Since we were almost out of the valley by the time the mountain spirits came crushing in, fifteen kilometers should be far enough. The air underground isn't sufficient; if we stay down here, we might get dizzy. Let's start digging upward."

"Yes, sir!" Yin Yu acknowledged. He instantly changed directions, digging upward at a slant and even erecting beautiful mud stairs as he went.

The man really is an outstanding assistant. Quick and efficient, and he speaks exactly as much as necessary, Xie Lian remarked to himself. Vol 5, page 236

Xie Lian is surprised to be included when Yin Yu asks for orders since he's Hua Cheng's assistant and Xie Lian again respects Hua Cheng's authority. He also remarks upon Yin Yu's efficiency and overall excellent manner as an assistant, but at no point in the future does he express concern or criticism that this isn't valued or praised enough by Hua Cheng.

So, to sum up: While in fanon, Xie Lian takes issue with Hua Cheng's attitude in general and in regards to these characters/situations in particular, in canon it's the complete opposite. He respects Hua Cheng as a person and a Ghost King, reprimands other characters when they mistreat him, and is amused instead of put off by his sharp wit and the way he keeps the other gods on their toes.

And again I want to stress that me pointing this out isn't meant in a "and that's why you shouldn't write x thing" kind of way or anything like that. I'm merely expressing dismay that I find these fanon portrayals to undermine the very core of what makes Xie Lian and Hua Cheng's relationship so healthy and loving: their mutual respect for each other's autonomy and choices, and the fact that they love each other for who they are, not who they think the other should be by any given standard. Hua Cheng puts it like this: "But only His Highness can decide what he wants to do. I will never oppose his decisions" (Vol 8, page 45) and as this analysis has hopefully shown, the same goes for Xie Lian.

Lastly, I think it's also important to remember what a big theme kindness plays in the novel, especially choosing kindness over prejudice. Hua Cheng falls for Xie Lian because Xie Lian chooses to treat him kindly instead of abusing him out of prejudice about his appearance, and then Xie Lian falls for him because Hua Cheng chooses to treat him kindly no matter what state Xie Lian is in. This should be kept in mind so we don't replace this genuine kindness with a superficial "being nice and polite" attitude and don't confuse genuine righteousness with "acting the way others think we should act."

[botanicalsword]

Indicators for “it’s impossible to ignore you ♡ ” • Astro placements

Harmonious aspect between Sun and Jupiter

Sun conjunct Jupiter + Jupiter in Sagittarius/ Pisces / Cancer

Chart Ruler in 10H + Harmonious aspect with personal planet

Personal planets in 2H / 4H / 10H

Venus in Libra, Asc in Libra w/o challenging aspects

Venus in Leo w/o challenging aspects

Harmonious aspect between Venus and Jupiter

Sun/ Moon / Venus / Jupiter in 11H + Harmonious aspect

11H Ruler in 1H / 4H/ 7H / 10H

11H ruled by a domiciled planet

Chart ruler in 11H / 2H

5H ruler in 11H

Harmonious aspect between Venus and Jupiter

Harmonious aspect between 2H and 5H and 11H (rulers / planets)

✧✧✧✧

Harmonious aspect between Sun and Jupiter - wisdom and compassion

They have a captivating aura that attracts people and ensures their safety. They remain calm, never losing their composure. Their wisdom and kindness secure respect and support from everyone, regardless of the location or situation.

they tend to handle difficulties actively. When faced with difficulties or troublesome situations, those with a positive outlook tend to actively work to find solutions. They don't face major issues often, but smaller problems help them improve.

Easy success can dampen motivation, while challenges fuel drive. Even conflicts can be beneficial. Handling minor frustrations early fosters resilience. A blend of support and issues prevents complacency and maintains goal pursuit.

✧

Sun conjunct Jupiter + Jupiter in Sagittarius/ Pisces / Cancer - they are defined by their cheerful outlook on life. With a harmonious astrological aspect boosting their mood, they tend to see the positive side in any situation. People enjoy their energy and smile easily in their presence. Their can-do attitude also helps opportunities come their way. Their natural luck maximizes when paired with practical wisdom about ups and downs.

✧

Chart Ruler in 10H + Harmonious aspect with personal planet - They are strong, can handle high pressures and challenges, and stay resilient in adversity.

✧

Personal planets in 2H / 4H / 10H - Coming from a wealthy family background, receiving strong support from their loving family circle.

Growing up with financial security provides a solid foundation for success. Their chill, can-do attitude lets their skills and talents to thrive in the work sphere. Recognized for contributions, opportunities come readily - good stuff just seems to find them.

With a little help and faith from the family, they keep their confidence sky high. No sweat, they can handle any bumps in the road.

✧

Venus in Libra, Asc in Libra w/o challenging aspects - elegance and nobility. their gentle temperament makes people feel very comfortable and intimate.

✧

Venus in Leo w/o challenging aspects -When everyone is watching, they stand amidst a vibrant light show, feeling incredibly classy. It's as if they have a unique filter making them look even better. The show is extraordinary, and all eyes are on them. The audience may express approval, jealousy, or admiration, but they accept it all. Because this is their stage, and they are the star of the show.

✧

Harmonious aspect between Venus and Jupiter - Their financial success and enjoyable experiences are like eye-catching flowers. They display their wealth and easily gather attention. It's not just about getting rich, but also about having an impact. They're charmers, kind of like how flowers pull in bees. Living like this, they stand out from the crowd, just like a blooming flower in a field of grass.

✧

Sun/ Moon / Venus / Jupiter in 11H + Harmonious aspect

11H Ruler in 1H / 4H/ 7H / 10H

11H ruled by a domiciled planet

Chart ruler in 11H / 2H

5H ruler in 11H

The 11th house is closely about forming friendships and spending time with your community. It primarily represents popularity and online traffic, both of which are crucial factors. As a social media influencer possess strong likability, their content will attract a larger audience, and they'll attract more views, leading to more clicks. Traffic is also a significant indicator of success in the realm of social media. All of this bodes well for them seeking exposure on their journey as social media creators.

✧

Harmonious aspect between Venus and Jupiter - Venus, as a symbol of aesthetics, grants us a unique perception and appreciation of beauty, enabling us to seek and create elements of beauty in our daily lives.

Jupiter, as a symbol of opportunities and expansion, provides us with the ability to seize opportunities and amplify our influence in the digital age. These abilities are not limited to the physical world; they extend into the digital realm, allowing us to share our creations and ideas with a wider audience through the power of the internet.

✧

Harmonious aspect between 2H and 5H and 11H (rulers / planets) - There will be a more direct relationship between wealth, traffic, and creativity. This means that wealth not only depends on our efforts but also on our ability to create compelling content and generate a significant amount of traffic. The value of such content will be more prominently recognized, and their wealth will more accurately reflect their creative abilities.

The more traffic and creativity they generate, the more wealth they will accumulate. The key is to invest effort in creating exceptional content that attracts a lot of viewers. The value of their content will be recognized appropriately, and the income they earn will accurately reflect their talent.

✧✧✧✧

>> Back to Masterlist ✧ Explicit Content

Quick Access to : ❥ Astro / Asteroid Indicators ❥ Synastry / Composite Chart Observations ❥ House Stellium Observations ❥ Astro basic info / Brief reads ❥ Asteroid database ❥ Personal studies ✧ spiritual journal

Exclusive access : Patreon

/ instagram : @le.sinex / @botanicalsword

[bitchimasnake-sss]

what do you think about a little bit of angst with op boys traveling in the time to the past (bcs a enemy fruit power or something) and they interactions with their s/o that is dead in the future? hehe just wondering

omg i love this so much. i suck at writing angst but ill try!! a/n: ill be posting three different fics for all three! (i'll add link at the end once the other two are up too!); not proofread! zoro's part sani's part

nine years ft. monkey d luffy!

luffy outstretched his arms, stifling a yawn. peering through blurry gaze, he tried to sit up. his head felt like it was going to split apart. the headache ravaged the back of his head and he tried to focus his gaze on the people in front of him.

"oi?" a young, sorta squeaky voice called out to him, "who are you?"

"who are you? and why do you look familiar?" another voice asked.

"let him atleast come to his senses." a young woman yelled at the two boys and luffy blinked twice as to take in the scene in front of him. her red hair shone under the sun, catching sunlight that reflected her fiery temperament.

"nami? is that you?" the older man's voice was gruff. he sat up and looked around as if observing the deck of the sunny for the first time.

the red-head was alarmed. with eyes widening, she asked, "is it actually you? luffy?"

"that's not me!!" the younger version quipped up, pouting when he stared at the older version, "i don't look like that."

"what do you mean? i think he's good-looking" another voice kissed the old captain's ears.

"yn?" the older version looked over to your voice.

"yn?" his eyes were frantic, as if taking all of as soon as he could. he sat up so fast, he almost could feel metal on his tongue, he could almost faint again.

but none of that mattered.

his fingers outstretched as if to feel your skin against his palm, as if to reassure himself that you were there.

"hey?" you seemed to chuckle awkwardly, backing off slightly at his sudden intrusion, "do i know you?"

there you were. there was his girl.

alive.

this wasn't one of those dreams that felt realer than life. you were there. so close, he could almost touch you and hold you and sob into you.

except you were nineteen again.

"hey, old man" zoro piped up, threatening the older man with a glare, "do we know you?"

"it's me" his throat was parched and it hurt to speak, "it's luffy."

"no, im luffy, you old man!!" the younger version piped up again, pouting even more now.

that interaction was three days ago and in the meantime, the crew and older version of their captain had both come to accept the strangeness of the situation. it was surreal, seeing his crew-mates young. to see them so full of dreams, their bodies barely beaten and bruised. it was surreal to see them so tiny, so inexperienced to what was about to come.

it was surreal to see you again.

you were nineteen. it would take two years before you and his younger version would get together. it would take seven more years till he asked you to marry him. it would take nine more years till he lost you.

but right now you were nineteen and when you smiled, the sun caught onto your skin, painting you in a golden shade. right now, you still snickered when you found something funny, the laugh sort of airy and hearty. right now, you still offered him a portion of your food as if you didn't want it. right now, the younger version of him didn't even know he loved you.

a part of him wanted to go yell at his younger version. hold him by the collar and threaten him to keep you safe. but all of that would be of no use.

the fates were cruel.

the deck was slightly chilly in the night air and you sat next to him. the aged captain didn't ignore the way you restlessly moved your legs. and he held back from putting his hand on your knee to calm you down.

"so..." you started and he knew that tone too well. you were gonna ask him something meekly, as in unsure if you wanna know the answer. you faced him, "what is future like? do you become the future king of pirates? is the crew together?"

"ah" luffy laughed, hiding this sting you sweet voice inflicted on him, "yes, the crew is still together. we even had some new members."

"really?" you beamed, "and me and you? are we still friends?"

"i-" he snuck in a breath and laughed again, hoping it would ease the pain in his voice, "ofcourse we are. we are the closest of friends. we will always be, till the end of time."

"no way! we're closer than you're with zoro?" your expression turned smug, "ha! i knew it. i am way way funnier than zoro."

luffy just nodded, finding an invisible rope round his throat as he looked at you. he was afraid as if one wrong word and he'd jinx everything, he'd be back in his solemn reality.

you spoke again, "i must say, did growing up make you less energetic? you're so quite luffy." then you corrected yourself, "ah, i mean like ofcourse growing up must make you less energet-"

"yn," luffy cut you off, "i love you"

your eyes widened comically, air stuck in your throat, "huh??"

"as a friend." he smiled at your confused figure, "i thought i should let you know while i was here."

"oh" a blush crept up your face, spreading till your ears, "i mean- i love you too- as a friend ofcourse!"

"i'm glad." luffy gave you a soft smile. his heart ached when you return back the smile with no hesitancy, "i'm glad i got to know you."

then you looked away from the older man and luffy knew it meant you were blushing even more furiously. then through a meek whisper you said, "you're being so sappy. stop it-"

"DINNER'S READY!" the young chef's voice boomed, snapping you two out of the conversation. the aged captain involuntarily jumped up at the name of dinner.

"glad to see you are the same about food still." he looked down at you, laughing. and he laughed with you.

he laughed because he knew in every timeline, he still had those nine years with you.

and he'd love you through them over and over again.