#that works for now! oh no ill need a title for this all at some point!

[astranite]

What would your oc’s carry in their bags/have on them in everyday life?

This is changed a bit from the original school bags to while adventuring/going through Plot, as this fits with being general enough to work with my mediaeval-ish fantasy setting and story, while still in the spirit of it. Heres the original: https://www.tumblr.com/rainydaywhump/751678125911490560/thanks-for-the-tag-tagging-if-you-havent-already

Thanks for the tag @rainydaywhump! I've put this in its own post since it got long and this was from a while ago.

I have recently become incredibly unhinged about my ocs, or as I like to call them limited edition little guys (gender neutral) from my brain, that I’ve never mentioned anywhere before. So here! @silverstarfics behold.

Edvin

A bound notebook journal for their notes on magic research, ideas and all their stray thoughts. It’s practically falling apart these days, with loose extra pages shoved in everywhere and a cover made from a scrap piece of leather the only thing holding it together and protecting it. Edvin’s writing in it is getting progressively tinier and more difficult to decipher (their handwriting started off as bad enough as is) because they are worried about running out of space. They use charcoal pencils to write with as a bottle of ink would be too likely to get smashed in their pack.

Their cloak. Though they are near constantly wearing it, so mostly its technically not in their bag: 

Edvin has this cloak that they take with them everywhere and wear near constantly. its deep blue-purple of a night sky with stars on it. it started off as very obviously a mages cloak, a sign of authority and with a bit of mystique that strengthens that impression, clean and bright as it was fairly new and only worn by Edvin inside libraries, castles and the magic university district of the city. it was just a pretty normal, everyday thing for Edvin as a mage, but over time and adventures and hardship it becomes more and more of a comfort item. 

It’s confidence, when Edvin wears it to look more imposing and properly mage like and because the familiarity of it helps them stand up tall as they pretend they still know what they are doing. its comfort when they are ever so far from home and from the life they used to have and the person they were that they cant ever return to. As all gets further and further away the cloak is still with them.

Over the years, it becomes more and more worn, the fabric fading, holes and tears patched and sewn together and stains that wont come out such as from when Edvin bled all over it. they've put it together again, needle and thread in hand and clinging to it, because its the only thing holding Edvin together too.

At one point they took all the still conspicuous silver white stars off of the outside and resewed them on the inside, back into constellations, because it was too obvious and dangerous and a plain drab blueish cloak is easier to hide, but they couldn't bring themself to give them up.

It’s safety and it keeps off the cold when they are sickest from magic overuse, ever so lonely and feeling awful, lying curled up until they are hidden by it. with the hood pulled up, no one can see whether edvin is shivering or trembling from tears.

They do their best to keep high calorie and easy to eat food on them because using magic burns through energy like nothing else and it’s hard to eat when they are exhausted and have no appetite. It’s often something sweet if they can get it, carefully wrapped up like its precious, plus salty stuff because they need that and it keeps well.

Edvin keeps fairly light on with armour and weaponry as their magic is their most used defence but they have some. 

When they were a mage and a scholar before everything happened, they were definitely the person to carry around half of the giant library’s books in a bag that was straining at the seams. They had piles of research notes and ready access to paper and ink and never had to worry about it. Edvin had their cloak, but it was a largely unremarkable every day object to them. They loved the stars but they didn't really think about it much. It was near new with only a few tiny ink stains.

Val

Sewing and repairs kit, versatile enough to be applied to the tack for the horses, armour and weapons, clothing or what ever else is falling apart on the road this time. He made the extra leather cover for Edvin’s notebook for them.

Heavier duty armour and weapons as they still have it from when they were in training to become a knight and were allowed to keep it even when due to injuries that didn’t pan out. Val fights best from horseback so that is kept in mind. Despite being generally brash, loud and angry at the world, he takes patient, careful care of his gear because he knows how important it is to fighting well and surviving.

The rest of what he carries is mostly soldiers kit as that’s where he ended up for years as that was really the only place he could put his skills to use, fighting for whatever cause he was ordered to no matter that what he cares about most is defending and helping those who cannot fight themselves. He also has most of the gear needed to take care of the horses.

Matilda

She would definitely be the type to go out with whatever is in her pockets and nothing else if she could get away with it. She totally would wear her keys on a carabiner in a modern au.

Her weapons and armour are important to her as they are what allow her to fight, to walk into battle and be a powerful force in her own right. But she regularly gets frustrated by the upkeep needed to keep things in good condition and to prevent problems becoming serious before its unavoidable. While Edvin mentors her in magic, Val is most often the one who sits down at the end of the day with her to get across that you can’t run and fight without stopping all the time because the slower parts have just as much bearing on the battle as being right in the thick of it.

She doesn’t want to be weighed down by objects of her past, so doesn’t tend to hang onto things. She tells herself she doesn't need that comfort and only who she is now matters. When she left to join the fight, she left anything she didn’t strictly need in the moment behind to try to cut anything that tied her to that ordinary life and forge a path ahead as her own person.

Otherwise, all of them have packs, camping gear and general stuff needed out on campaign.

*Addendum because of course I have more to say. They all have some medical/first aid supplies, though Val has the most kit prepared, for people and the horses both. Matilda's healing magic skills are rough and ready but she might pull you back together through sheer stubbornness. Edvin's are far better technique-wise but that doesn't help if they are needing it because they've burnt out their energy reserves from magic.

All of them tend to pick up and carry around things to fidget with, from beaded bracelets made for it, a smooth stone found on the road or a small item to toss from hand to hand. Yes there is definite neurodivergency!

Tagging @idontknowreallywhy and @squiddokiddo as I know you have ocs plus anyone else who wants to talk about their limited edition little guys, I'd love to hear about them!

[reallyromealone]

Title: fated

Chapter: two

Fandom: JJK

Characters: Gojo, Geto, unimportant ocs

Fic type: series

Pairings: Gojo x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, Omega male reader, angst

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Gojo had been staying with (name) for a week at this point, (name) going about his day of without any care and honestly ignoring him half the time.

Gojo was still his... Gojo self.

(Name) Was watching his dramas on the couch as he made little plush toys for the neighborhood children, Gojo had gone out to do whatever... Frankly (name) didn't care and if Gojo didn't have the power to blast off the hinges of his door, he would have changed the locks.

Gojo had Geto send him a copy of (name)s information, everything about the Omega, hobbies and interests though Gojo ignored those as they seemed to be generic Omega things to make the thorn bush that was (name) seem more delicate.

(Name) Was interesting though from the other things Geto gathered for him, and something deeply interesting.

He wasnt blood related to the (lastname) clan...

He was a descendant of a notable figure.

Sakuna.

That would explain his defiant nature.

And then came his abilities...

Jesus fuck.

At that moment, Gojo knew why they were destined to be together.

If given proper training, (name) would be an unstoppable force and it made sense on why he was the diamond of his clan as Gojo was the gift of the heavens of his clan.

Their offspring would be a monster of power.

(Name) Was asleep when Gojo came back, the tv playing a drama as the Omega slept on the couch, curled up and cozy as a few crochet plushies scattered around him. Gojo felt the urge to protect but... He didn't feel love, he was always told that when you met your soulmate you would feel endless love but he just felt... Calm.

Like he did with Geto.

Carefully he lifted (name) and brought him to his bed, tucking him in.

He would learn to love (name) as his omega and (name) as his alpha...

"Work?" Gojo asked confused and (name) nodded with a yawn "of course, what do you think I sit on my ass all day?" Yup he could definitely see how he was descendants to Sakuna now, the white haired man chuckling at his omegas attitude, he definitely wasn't some weak Omega.

Gojo knew he would have to leave soon, he had work to do after all.

But he would be back, he had to come back for his mate after all.

They both had roles to play.

Gojo noticed that (name) always read slower, more intensely "oh.... They didn't see a purpose of having me learn too much, better a pretty Omega than one who could make their alpha look inferior" Gojo with his new knowledge of (name) knew that wasn't the full truth, they kept (name) dumb so that he couldn't be a threat like Gojo was.

"I have to go back to Tokyo tomorrow..." Gojo started and (name) looked up from his dinner "hm? Finally gave up?" He asked calmly and Gojo snorted "I don't give up, I just have to take care of stuff" he said simply and (name) rolled his eyes "it would be easier if you came with"

"Absolutely not" (name) didn't even hesitate to shoot that down, as he glared at Gojo "don't feel like you need to rush back" (name) said with a bland tone as he sipped his drink "ill be sure to come back as soon as possible " Gojo fired back as blue locked with (color) and the two glared at one another.

It took a month and a half till Gojo returned "what is this? You moving into the village or something?" (Name) Asked at all the bags and boxes that sat on his engawa "nah, Geto told me courting gifts are important" Gojo said and (name) looked a mix of annoyed and disgusted "you don't need to do that"

"But I want to"

(Name) Wanted to slap him, the audacity of this man.

Alphas were really shameless.

(Name) Barely glanced at the pile of gifts in his livingroom as Gojo made himself comfortable "so ya miss me while I was gone?"

"No" (name) said simply as he sipped his drink, already feeling a headache form in the front of his skull at the other "the house smells sweeter, you get a new air freshener or something " Gojo tried making small talk and (name) wasn't too interested "no that's just post heat smell, sticks on the walls for a while" this made Gojo freeze "your heat?" When was this?!

"Yeah, it ended the other day" (name) said like it was just talk about the weather, deciding to work on his crossword puzzle that was sitting on the corner of the table "why didn't you call me?" Gojo asked incredulously and (name) glanced up and glared "why would I call you?"

"Because I'm your alpha!"

"But you aren't" (name) argued and Gojo seethed, his Infinity getting a bit stronger and (name) was pushed back a bit, a slight look of fear on his face was enough to snap him out of it and a guilty look on his face "shit, I'm sorry" he was already fucking up even more and it hadn't even been an hour! (Name) Letting distressed pharamones slip out as he whispered "you make no attempts to be my alpha, ignore me for years and then you come into my life and make demands and claims... Then you use your strength the intimidate me... You are no different than the ones I grew up around" (name)a words were like a hot knife as he curled into himself.

(Name) Went about his day as if Gojo didn't exist, the Alpha having the decency of getting a room at the local inn though it was obvious Gojo didn't exactly want to do so but after the stunt he just pulled it was the smartest choice.

Though that didn't stop him from being excessive and clingy.

"Maybe we could go on a date tonight, what is there in this town anyways?" Gojo followed (name) around at work and the Omega was deeply embarrassed as people stared and whispered "can you not bother me while I'm at work?"

"I just wanna see what my omega is up to"

"Not your omega"

"Not yet"

"(Name)?" A voice called as Gojo was a bit annoyed that (name)s attention left him to some beta man who was the embodiment of the annoying boy next door trope "oh kei, is school out already?" (Name) Checked his watch and it was already 5pm, the store would be closed soon "yeah, gave the kids some fun in the sun before school let out... It's a nice day and all" he joked as Gojo dead stared him from behind (name) who paid no mind "that's great! It's too good of day to waste truly"

"Whose this?" Kei asked and looked at Gojo with a stupid smile that made the white haired man feel the urge to turn him into a fine mist.

There was barely any cursed energy in him, both Gojo and (name) combined had enough cursed energy to keep japan lit for a generation! He was weak, the lowest level scum cursed spirit could take him down!

"He's a creep who won't leave me alone" (name) said blandly and Gojo scoffed "Gojo Satoru, his fiance"

"Not my fiance"

"Not with that attitude" Gojo fired back and the school teacher looked between them confused before smiling "well it's nice to meet you Gojo! I'm Sato Kei!" He was inconsequential to Gojo, offering his hand to him but if he was to get closer to (name) he would need to get close to his friends.

"Pleasure to meet you" (name) huffed as they interacted but decided to take the time to return to his shift and shake the tick that was Gojo off him.

Gojo should had known it wouldn't be complete smooth sailing while he was here...

"It's always schools.." he whispered as he adjusted his eye cover and walked to the building where a cursed spirit resided, he just hoped he could finish the job fast.

Gojo didn't have a lot of empathy to those weaker to him, he didn't care about them.

But he did care about his omega, even if he didn't get why he did.

And telling (name) that his beta friend was dead... He never wanted to see (name) cry like that again.

[jyoongim]

I'm sorry to add to your likely ever growing list of requests but may I pitch an idea:

Alastor absolutely head over heals for a married reader, but since his mama raised him right he'd never make a real move. He's sure he can show you he's sooo much better anyway, and you'd leave your husband for him eventually.

BUT then his rut hits and the chivalry goes out the window no matter how hard he tries to stay sane and he just NEEDS reader right NOW, wedding ring be damned.

Title: UNWILLINGLY YOURS❤️‍🔥

Part 2!

warning: Reader is married! Non-con sex (I DIDNT EVEN KNOW I COULD WRITE THIS????) possessive, jealous, obsessive behaviors, one-sided pining, breeding kink/impregnantion, Al is a homewrecker!!!, husband is a sweet bean!, rough sex, creampie, marriage guilt

Let me know if I’m missing something!!

———————————————————————

You were a constant face in Cannibal Town. You often helped Rosie at her Emporium, helping her sell her goodies, have a good chat, and help those who come to see the female Overlord.

You could often be found in an apron splattered in blood with a sharp grin on your face.

Alastor found you adoring. He thought you were the sweetest thing that ever graced Hell.

So imagine the way his shadow simmered when he saw a wedding ring shining on your finger…

The Overlord’s eyes narrowed when he saw your husband would come in, greeting Rosie and before the sinner could locate you, you were chirping happily as you jumped into his arms, dragging the man to taste what you had been cooking.

He knew it wasn’t right.

To lust after a taken woman.

But seven hells were you beautiful.

You considered Alastor a friend. You were oblivious to his flirting and often thought he was just teasing.

He was a well-mannered demon and the two of you had a lot in common.

He deemed himself the better man.

Your husband was average. Alastor couldnt understand why you married him.

You needed someone strong and powerful. 

Someone who would worship the ground you walked on.

Someone who would worship you like you deserved.

You deserved to be spoiled, having things at your disposal at just a glance.

Alastor could give you all of those things if you just said the word.

If you would just leave your husband…..the world could be yours.

But all the gifts, flowers, and dates didnt seem to get through your head.

You kindly reminded the deer that you were married and you adored your spouse, but you gave him your appreciation in his efforts.

So like a gentleman, Alastor backed down. If you truly loved your husband than who was he to mess up a happy home?

But that desire to have you all to himself never went away.

You suited Alastor.

Your manners,personality, interests…

You were his perfect standard.

But you were already someone else’s.

But Alastor could wait…

————————————————————————

“Rosie I haven’t seen Alastor around, he hasn’t fall ill has he?” You asked the tall woman worriedly.

Rosie waved a dismissive hand “Oh he’s fine dear. he always goes into hiding every now and again. Probably just busy at that hotel of his”

You tugged your lips, the treat you had been making was one of the red demon’s favorite.

Maybe you should go and check on him?

After all…He was your friend.

”Im gonna take him some treats. I just want to check up on him.”

You knocked on the double doors of the hotel and waited.

You knocked again.

You heard some shuffling and then the door opened.

”What are you doing this way darlin?” 

You smiled softly seeing Alastor, holding up the goodies

”Hadn’t seen you in a while and was just worried that’s all. I was making these and know how much you love em”

The overlord let you in and you took in the hotel lobby.

It certainly had character.

You noticed Alastor hadn’t moved from the door and instead was staring at you. You tilted your head “You look like you wanna eat me Al” You wiggled your tail at him, smirking playfully

“But I doubt ill taste as good as these goodies I worked so hard on”

That seemed to snap him out of it as he cleared his throat, he escorted you to the radio tower.

Alastor was losing it.

His rut had came sooner than he anticipated and he has locked himself away until he had control over himself.

All he could think about was you.

And how you would look covered in his cum.

Covered? No that would be a waste…but if you were filled that was a different story.

Everyone had went out on some activity Charlie had planned so Alastor was holding the fort.

He had been stroking his cock, fisting the raging organ until it was pulsing and leaking. He had been thinking of you, the object of his affections and desires.

On your knees and begging to suck him.

He could feel an orgasm readying to erupt when a knock at the door interrupted his fantasy.

He growled and stomped to the front door when a familiar scent caught his nose.

You.

You were here.

Making sure he was okay.

You had been worried about him and even made him a snack.

Oh what a sweet thing you were.

If only you were his wife.

Alastor let you in, eyes raking over your figure as you looked around the hotel.

Eyes settling on the sway of your hips, before he heard your voice breakthrough the fog of desire.

”You look like you wanna eat me” you giggled.

 You were being playful. 

He knew that. 

But when you wiggled your backside, flickering your tail that set him off.

He was on you faster than you could blink, hands settling on your plush hips. His lips skimmed your ear “You would be even sweeter than these treats you’ve made.”

You shivered, trying to shrug him off “You’re just saying that”

Alastor chuckled as he nuzzled you, teeth nipping at your shoulder

”Oh I’d never lie about you darlin”

Your cheeks flushed and you went to move away from him when he pressed his hips against yours.

”A-Al?”

He growled against your ear, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him.

”You dont understand the effect you have on me my dear. It is taking everything in me to not have my way with you” 

You tried to jerk away from him, but he held fast, a soft frown showing on your face.

”Alastor… t-this i-is inappropriate Im..you know I’m married”

The second the word slipped from your lips Alastor let out a feral growl, twirling you around to face him.

His eyes were black and pupils narrowed as he bared his teeth at you.

”That is irrelevant to me dear. You think I care of your bond to that pathetic excuse of a man?”

You went to hiss at him. 

Bared your fangs and defended your marriage.

But Alastor found your anger to be his tipping point as he slammed his lips onto yours, catching you off guard.

Your eyes widened and you gasped subconsciously, making the red demon lean into you, swallowing the soft protests and whines you let out.

”A-Alastor..N-No I can’t…” you pulled away pushing against him, but the male didnt let you get away.

He sought after your lips, wanting to have his tongue down your throat. Sweet poisoned words spilled from his lips as he pressed you into his chest. 

“You’ll have to indulge me my dear. Youve been plaguing my mind for a while now and while I despise your husband, I respected you to give you space…”

A large hand wrapped around your neck, tightening. He tilted his head at you “However…you have approached me while I’m in season and reason have been slipping.”

In season? Your head was reeling. The fuck was he talking about… Oh!

Alastor had deer features… he…he was…

”What will your dear husband think when I send you back to him filled with my cum?” Alastor purred snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, taking a step back, but he followed you.

You were pressed into a wall before you melted into the wall and found your back on a soft surface.

Alastor was on top of you, claws digging in your clothing; a rip met your ears and the cool air had you covering yourself.

“Alastor!” You yelped. The red demon grabbed at your hands, revealing your bare body to him.

Skin smooth like butter and free of marks. Your ample breasts were full and round, rising and falling with your rapid breathing.

His large hands kneaded the mounds, pinching and tweaking the soft peaks. His eyes roamed your soft stomach that was littered in stretch marks and slightly rounded, filtering into wide hips.

Satan you would look lovely carry his spawns.

“Al please! Let me go. I-Ill forget all about this incident and we can just pretend it never happened.” You placed your hands over his to slowly move them off your chest, he didnt protest.

 You knew Alastor. 

He wouldnt hurt you

His brain was just all twisted from hormones, he'll gain some sense.

Your breath caught when he pressed his nose against your heat.

Your thighs vibrated as a purr radiated through his chest.

”Such a sweet cunt” he mused, inhaling your scent.

“A-Al dont…i-I’m…I’m pregnant” you pleaded, trying to close your legs around his head and softly pushing him away from your intimate region.

Alastor stiffened at your words.

His eyes snapped to yours and then to your stomach.

Anger boiled inside him.

Pregnant? How dare someone-

“I-I wont tell my husband. We can just pretend this didnt happen. Just stop now and ill go” you tried to reason with the demon.

His eyes narrowed as a vicious growl ripped through his throat

Your husband…that’s right you weren’t his. You were married.

But he could fix that problem.

Alastor’s cock twitched at the thought.

”Oooh my dear that’s alright” he grinned up at you as he teased your slit. He lowered his head back between your legs

”Afterall…I would love to see you carrying my fawns”

Your eyes widened and before you could question him, Alastor sucked your clit into his mouth.

A ragged cry tore from your lips as the red demon lapped at your cunt. ”A-Al-lastor!”

Alastor swallowed the nectar that began to flow. 

You tasted better than he imagined.

Sweeter than honey.

He groaned as he pushed his tongue into your velvet walls, twirling and swirling to lap every drop your cunt produced.

You were trying to wiggle your hips away from him, but Alastor held your hips steady, nipping at your clit in warning.

Oh your husband had no idea of the treasure he had Alastor thought flicking your clit with his tongue. 

Such a perfect cunt.

Your soft groans of protests were music to his ears.

Suck. Lick. Flick. Repeat

Alastor tortured your poor puffy clit until your hips shuddered and rolling against his tongue. He moaned latching onto your cunt as you cried out, your nectar exploding into his mouth.

You panted as your heart thumped in your chest, feeling your body buzz as you floated.You took a deep breath maybe this was enough. Maybe he would let you go home.

You felt his kiss around your inner thighs and lick one final stripe up your slit, before moving his head from between your thighs.

Hes satisfied now…go-good…now to-

A heavy weight slapped against your thigh making you tense as you looked up at Alastor with horror in your eyes.

Tears welled in your eyes as a sob bubbled in your throat “N-no…no no no no no no!” Alastor’s hands cupped your cheeks as he tried to comfort your pleas, using his knees to widen your thighs.

”Its okay darling” he licked your wet cheek “You were such a good girl for me such a good girl” you felt him pepper your face in soft kisses. You pushed at his broad chest, hands pushing at anything you could shove, you shook your head in denial as he trapped you underneath him “Im pregnant! Y-You can’t! Please dont” You sobbed.

Alastor hissed, that jealous feeling rearing  “yeesss pregnant your husband must be so happy” you gasped as he pushed both your thighs to your chest, keeping them spread to expose your cunt and no pressure on your soft bump.

His cock stroked your cunt, angry red tip leaking as he rubbed against you.

“Your husband dont deserve you. You should be with a man who is feared and respected. Will worship you and the ground you walk…” He purred when his mushroom tip caught your clit

“Who can bring you to the peak of pleasure easily” 

Using his weight to hold your legs, he wiped the tears that streaked down your face, before slipping a hand between you.

“Al…N-no! AH!” The cry didnt even fully leave your lips when Alastor slotted his lips on yours as his hips slammed against yours, cock breaching your gummy walls, stretching.

Alastor’s antlers grew when he felt your cunt squeeze around him, he pulled his hips back and pushed back in, groaning into your mouth when your walls gave way to him.

He chuckled against your lips.

Oh you were divine…

No way was he letting you go…

————————————————————————

“Oh that’s my good girl yeeesss I knew you’ll be good for me”

Alastor rasped as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, hips ramming into yours.

You couldnt even acknowledge his praise as he fucked you.

You felt numb.

dirty.

You had broken your wedding vows to your husband.

”You take my cock so well, knew you would. Such a sweet cunt.”

Alastor fucked your pussy like it was his.

Your body covered in love bites, sweat, and cum.

so much cum.

Alastor had emptied rope after rope of creamy cum inside you, filling you up til it pooled under your ass.

“You’ll look so pretty carrying my spawns doll. You take my cum well…fuck! Baby that’s right milk this cock take my cum take it fuck!”

Your back arched and a soft mewl left your lips.

He let out a low hiss as he slotted his hips against yours, cock twitching as your cunt fluttered and clenched around him, releasing another load of cum inside your womb.

Your thighs shook as he thrusted against you softly.

Alastor whispered sweet praises and affections against your skin.

”you take me so well”

”sweet cunt and its all mine”

He pulled out of you with a wet pop and yours flopped, a steady stream of cream dripping from your abused hole.

He licked from your neck to your hair, purring 

”that’s my girl”

Your body finally had enough and your vision went dark.

—————————————————————————————

“Honey you had me so worried! Thanks for bringing her home Alastor” your husband said appreciatively to the red demon, who smiled at the man. Your husband kissed your cheek as you walked through the door, he looked you over “Why dont you head to bed hmmm? You seem tired”

Alastor smiled wickedly “Yes do get your rest dear. Wouldnt want to faint again”

Your husband thanked the Overlord for bringing you home and as you turned to head upstairs, you heard him say to your husband

”Congratulations to you both by the way. Shell make a fine mother” you paused slightly before heading continuing up the stairs. Your husband laughed and thanked him again.

But before the door closed, Alastor watched as your husband ran behind you, you offered him a small smile that didnt meet your lips. As the man pulled you into a kiss, not seeing the tear that ran down your cheek. Your husband tried to palm your ass, but you quickly grabbed his hand.

His eyes followed the two of you going upstairs.

Alastor smirked watching a stream of cum run down your leg.

Yes congratulations indeed.

——————————————————————————

Part 2 is linked and posted!

[bitchinbarzal]

take care of my baby | S Reid

summary: when maeve goes missing spencer gets help from his ex, the mother of his daughter and she puts her life on the line for his girlfriend.

-

Spencer had told Ruby about Maeve. He had told her Maeve was a friend while he read out her letters, some Maeve had even written specifically to Ruby.

You were happy they were happy, no ill feelings towards your ex and his new girlfriend. Your babygirl was happy and that’s all that mattered to you.

Ruby would come home from a weekend with Spencer, telling you about Maeve and the phone call. That it was a secret and nobody could know except you guys.

You knew the team weren’t aware Spencer was dating again until he stood before you all, begging you to help find Maeve.

You all worked tirelessly, trying to figure out who Maeve was and who was after her.

It was you who figured out what Diane wanted, piecing together her lax use of Spencer’s doctor title without being pretold and then her slip of your daughter’s name.

You were sat at the round table when you off handedly mentioned “Yeah Spence is always talking about Ruby in interviews, that Diane girl was asking about her earlier”

Spencer frowned, eyebrows knitted together while he looked at you “She mentioned Ruby?”

“Yeah, she was asking-“

“I never said anything about Ruby”

You shrugged “Maybe I mentioned her and forgot, she asked me about my husband and I was talking about you being my ex and-“

You cut yourself off, thinking back to your conversation with Diane earlier in the day. Her pushing to know about your relationship with Spencer, more information on Ruby.

“Oh my god” you gasped “It’s her, she’s the unsub!”

In the warehouse you and Spencer stood both pointing a gun at Diane who held hers against Maeve’s temple.

You watched Maeve tremble in her hold, Spencer equally as frightened as he watched on.

You tried to talk her down, Diane was insane and there was no talking her off this cliff.

“Your parents died when you were young, Diane” you started, hands up and placing your gun on the ground. She pointed her weapon at you, hand shaking as she cried.

“We” your finger referenced between you and Spencer “We have a daughter, Diane you don’t want to take away her parents, the people who love her. Maeve is one of those people”

Maeve softened at that, having grown fond of the girl over their correspondence.

Diane’s gun moved between all three of you. She was becoming erratic.

“How about a trade?” You said, earning a crazed look from Spencer.

“Me for her” you suggested, hands up to show you weren’t a threat.

Diane hissed “You’d do that for her?”

You let out a shaky breath “Yes”

The her in question wasn’t necessarily Maeve. You didn’t know her. It was Ruby, it was your daughter having a happy dad, a happy family.

She shook her head. You watched on as she held her gun to her own temple, in line to hit Maeve on exit.

“Wait!” Spencer screamed, trying to grab your wrist as you pounced forward to push Maeve out the way.

You were laying on the floor, Spencer hovered above you before you realised what had happened. The burning sensation in your chest settling in.

Spencer desperately tried to put pressure on your chest, Maeve now joining him as he screamed for help.

Your eyes filled with tears as you smiled softly “Spence, stop”

He shook his head “No, No! You can’t die, you can’t- Ruby needs her mom. C’mon don’t do this!”

You reached up and grasped Maeve’s hand weakly “Take care of my baby”

She shook her head too “No, no! You’ll take care of her Y/N, you can’t, you shouldn’t have done that!”

You coughed, blood coating your lips “Promise me”

She sighed, tears dropping on your face “I promise, I promise - somebody help!”

The last thing they heard you say before your eyes closed was “Tell Ruby I love her”

The two of them sat by you, both in shock. When the rest of the team entered the room they stopped, all just as shocked.

That night they watched Spencer and Maeve meet Ruby in the round table room, her expression ecstatic to finally meet Maeve in person. Then they watched through the glass as Spencer kneeled down in front of his daughter explaining something to her, her face fell before she began sobbing and kicking him.

Maeve stood off to the side, upset and confused. Confused why you’d done that for her and upset for your daughter, your daughter who now didn’t have a mom because of her.

[thatlotuscookie]

👋👋i wanted to request for dabi, when he has a crush on the member of the league (reader) but it's uncomfortable for him so he decided to just be the biggest dick he can be to her. and one day he snaps at her even though failed mission wasn't her fault. and above all she felt so bad physically this day, she was so sick. and her fever or whatever she has is making her feel so bad. and next day she doesn't even appear in league's hideout. and she doesn't appear in next few hours either and when dabi looks for her it turns out she's got a serious sickness when she feels like dying, she can't breathe, she's anxious, her vision gets blurry and all that shit. PLEASE MAKE THIS ONE LONG BECAUSE I'M BORED AND YOU'RE A GREAT WRITER❤️🥺and end it with some hugs, kisses or whatever you feel like ending it with, just fluff

✧･ﾟ: a/n : thank you to the lovely anon that requested this one! its funny cause right now i have the worst headache ever, but im trying to send these reqs <3

✧ Title: ✧ Behind the Walls ✧ ✧ Characters: Dabi x Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: After a rough mission, Dabi’s constant criticism has you questioning your worth within the League. When a migraine and fever take you down, Dabi finds himself reluctantly stepping in, his unexpected gentleness hinting at feelings he’s tried to hide for so long. ✧ Content Warnings: Emotional Hurt, Illness/Injury Care, Soft Dabi Moments, Mild Swearing, Vulnerability, Dabi being a dickhead xd ✧ WC: 2162 words // 12k chars

Dabi had a way of turning even the smallest inconvenience into a reason to snap at you. Every time you entered the room, his glare would follow, sharp and dissecting, as if he were daring you to give him a reason to unleash whatever was brewing under his skin. You tried to shrug it off, reminding yourself that he was harsh with everyone—but with you, it felt personal. The jabs cut deeper, lingered longer, especially when you’d worked hard to contribute to the League.

After a particularly challenging mission that had taken a chaotic turn, you returned to the hideout, feeling utterly drained. You’d kept pace with everyone else, even stayed back to hold off a security team that had almost blown the entire operation, but despite your best efforts, the mission hadn’t gone as planned. It wasn’t even your fault—none of it was, in fact. Still, the weight of everyone’s fatigue hung in the air as you walked in, trying to blend into the background and head straight to your quarters for some much-needed rest.

But Dabi wasn’t about to let you off so easily.

“Hey,” his voice cut across the room, dripping with irritation. “Nice job holding us back out there.” He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms as he leveled you with a stare, his words slicing through the quiet like a knife. “Not like it was important or anything.”

You stopped, feeling the familiar knot form in your stomach as his words washed over you. You knew you hadn’t done anything wrong; in fact, you’d practically saved the mission. But it was like he was looking for any excuse to tear you down, and today, he’d found his opportunity.

“It wasn’t my fault,” you managed, your voice softer than you intended. The dull throb in your head, which had started as a manageable ache, was intensifying, and each syllable felt like it rattled inside your skull. You wanted to keep your composure, to stay calm and collected, but the exhaustion weighed heavily on you, amplifying every ache and pain.

“Oh, so now you’re making excuses?” he sneered, his voice raising just enough to make the others in the room glance your way. “Funny, that’s what people say when they know they messed up.”

You could feel your face heat up, a mix of frustration and hurt swirling together as his words hit home. The pounding in your head became unbearable, the pain radiating behind your eyes as you struggled to keep yourself from lashing back. It was already humiliating enough; you didn’t need to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to you.

“It’s not an excuse,” you said, trying to keep your tone steady, but your voice wavered despite your efforts. “I stayed back to cover everyone, and you know it.”

Dabi scoffed, rolling his eyes as if your words were nothing but empty air. “Sure, whatever you say, hero. Maybe next time, do us all a favor and stay out of the way if you’re not up for it.”

That was the last straw. You turned away, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over as you left the room, your vision blurring not just from exhaustion but from the sting of his cutting words. The tension in your head exploded into a full-on migraine, each heartbeat sending a sharp pulse of pain through your temples as you stumbled back to your quarters.

Curling up on the bed, you couldn’t hold back the silent tears that finally escaped. You felt feverish, your body heavy and weighed down as you lay there, the ache in your head growing worse with each passing moment. Dabi’s voice echoed in your mind, the harshness in his words replaying in a loop that made it impossible to find any comfort in the quiet of your room.

You lost track of time as you lay curled up in your bed, cocooned in your blankets. The world outside felt distant and muted, the sounds of the hideout fading away as your headache intensified. The pounding in your skull grew sharper, almost rhythmic, and a wave of nausea rolled through you, leaving you breathless. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, hoping to block out the chill that seemed to seep into your bones.

As the hours passed, you drifted in and out of sleep, the comfort of unconsciousness momentarily easing the pain before it came crashing back. Each time you stirred, you felt the remnants of your fever—your skin hot and clammy, the bed beneath you soaking up your discomfort. You had no idea how long it had been since you last left your room, but eventually, the noise of the League’s activities began to fade into a more oppressive silence. You’d missed dinner, and the absence of the usual bustling energy in the hideout felt eerily wrong.

But it was when you heard footsteps approaching your door that a cold shiver of anxiety shot through you. You didn’t want to see anyone, especially not Dabi. You didn’t want to face him again, especially after everything that had transpired. But when the footsteps stopped, a knock broke through the quiet.

“Hey, you in there?” Dabi’s voice cut through the stillness, low and slightly muffled. There was a pause before he continued, “You gonna just hide in here all night?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing desperately that you could disappear. “I’m fine,” you managed to call out, but even to your own ears, you sounded weak.

“Yeah, you don’t sound fine,” he shot back, the irritation in his tone mixed with something else that you couldn’t quite place. “Open the door.”

Against your better judgment, you found yourself pushing off the blankets, each movement sending waves of nausea crashing against you. You tried to take a steadying breath, but the tightness in your chest made it difficult, leaving you feeling more anxious than ever. With a reluctant sigh, you got up and opened the door just a crack, barely able to look him in the eye.

Dabi stood there, his arms crossed, the annoyance on his face quickly morphing into a frown as he assessed you. His eyes widened slightly, the harsh lines of his expression softening as he took in your flushed cheeks and the way you swayed slightly on your feet.

“You look like shit,” he muttered, the bluntness of his words a strange juxtaposition to the concern creeping into his voice.

“I feel worse,” you admitted, letting the door open wider as you leaned against the frame for support. “What do you want?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m coming in.” Without waiting for a response, he pushed the door open further and stepped inside, his presence filling the room. You felt a mix of annoyance and vulnerability, not sure how to process the sudden shift in his demeanor.

He scanned the room, his eyes landing on the disheveled sheets and the empty space beside you. “You’ve been in bed all day. Why didn’t you come out? Everyone’s worried about you.”

His voice held a note of genuine concern that caught you off guard. You swallowed hard, fighting back the lump forming in your throat. “I didn’t want to deal with anyone,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Especially you.”

“Yeah, well, too bad.” He moved closer, his gaze never leaving your face as he reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead. “You’re burning up. What the hell is wrong with you?”

You flinched at the sudden contact, but his touch was surprisingly gentle. “I think I have a fever,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just need to rest.”

“Rest isn’t going to help if you’re sick.” Dabi sighed, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I know I’ve been a dick, but—”

“Yeah, you have,” you cut in, your voice sharper than you intended. “I didn’t deserve that today, Dabi.”

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I know,” he finally said, his tone softer now. “I’m… sorry. I don’t know how to deal with this, okay? I don’t do feelings.”

His admission hung heavy in the air, and you felt the tension between you begin to ease slightly. “You could’ve just talked to me instead of being an asshole,” you replied, a little more gently this time.

Dabi nodded, the irritation on his face replaced with a somber expression. “I get it. I messed up. But right now, you need help.”

Before you could respond, he stepped back and grabbed the blanket, folding it over his arm. “Get back in bed.” It was an order, but it felt more like concern, and you found yourself obeying, fatigue washing over you as you settled back under the covers.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his weight shifting the mattress slightly, and you felt a mixture of comfort and unease at his proximity. You watched him, his expression thoughtful as he looked at you, seemingly wrestling with his emotions.

“Just—just stay still for a second, okay?” He reached out again, his hand finding your forehead once more, his fingers cool against your skin. “You’re burning up. I can’t believe you let yourself get this bad.”

“Like I had a choice,” you muttered, your voice tinged with frustration. “I thought I could tough it out.”

“Clearly that didn’t work,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, but it quickly faded. “You need to take it easy. I’ll get you some water or something.”

Before you could respond, he stood up, moving toward the small kitchenette in the corner of your room. You watched him rummage through the cabinets, grabbing a glass and filling it with water from the sink. The sight of him, so focused and intent, made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with your illness.

When he returned, he handed you the glass with an unexpected gentleness, his expression softening as you took a sip. “Drink,” he insisted, watching you carefully. “You need to stay hydrated.”

You nodded, the cool water soothing your dry throat as you gulped it down. As you set the glass aside, you caught a glimpse of the concern etched on his features, something almost tender that made your stomach flip.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice quieter now as you met his gaze.

Dabi shrugged, his usual bravado faltering for just a moment. “Whatever. I just don’t want you to die on me. You’re too useful to the League for that.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, a little incredulous, but it felt good. “You really know how to charm a person, Dabi.”

“Yeah, I’m a real charmer,” he replied, rolling his eyes. But the corners of his mouth twitched upward, betraying the faintest hint of a smile.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the tension easing as you allowed the moment to settle. Despite the heaviness in your chest and the throbbing in your head, you felt a warmth creeping in, a connection blooming in the quiet space between you.

“What did I do to make you mad today?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence. “Was it something I said?”

He shifted slightly, the laughter fading from his eyes as he contemplated your question. “It’s not about you. It’s—” He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. “It’s me. I just don’t want anyone to see that I care. I thought being a dick would keep you away, but it only pushed you closer.”

“Why do you care so much?” you probed, trying to understand the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him.

Dabi met your gaze, and for a brief moment, vulnerability flickered behind his usually guarded eyes. “Because you matter. And I don’t want to lose you.”

His honesty hung in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless. You hadn’t expected such a revelation, especially from someone who had built their walls so high. “Dabi—”

Before you could finish, he reached out, taking your hand in his, his grip surprisingly gentle. “I know I’m not the best at this, but just—just let me be here for you. I want to help, even if I don’t know how.”

Your heart raced, warmth blooming in your chest as his fingers intertwined with yours. “I’d like that,” you admitted, the sincerity of your words breaking through the fatigue that clung to you.

“Good,” he said, a smirk creeping back onto his face. “Now, let’s get you better. I’m not done with you yet.”

As you leaned back against the pillows, a sense of calm washed over you. Dabi might not have been perfect, but in that moment, he was there for you, a presence that grounded you as the ache in your head gradually faded, replaced by the warmth of his closeness and the promise of something more.

[umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken]

Neslin AU idea -> A ballad of beasts

AU where Tamlin, unwilling to deal with his brothers' power struggle for the High Lord title after their father's death goes FUCK NO, and legs it for the mortal realm.

He eventually finds refuge in a little, faraway village called Carterhaugh. But even though he's fae, he has no idea how shit works in the mortal realm, and he needs a safe place to stay.

BUT, he can't just saunter into the place and be like 'please will you let me into your house and give me a safe place to stay??'

That goes against all the fae rules, sanctuary must be given freely of a mortal's own choice and mind, no asking allowed.

SO

He transforms himself into a cat and wanders around until he comes across Nesta; the prickliest woman of the village, who couldn't give less of a shit about other people, but who is instantly besotted by the bedraggled and clearly malnourished cat that's mewling pathetically at her village bookshop door.

<><><>

"Oh, you poor thing," she cooed, gathering up the golden cat into her arms and scratching it under the chin.

It purred happily, and she immediately made for her small cottage at the edge of town.

"You must be hungry, don't fret little one, I'll look after you."

<><><>

She takes him home and gives cat-lin a bath and feeds him, and everything, but Tam starts feeling guilty so he poofs back into his fae male form and Nesta rightfully freaks out, screaming at him to get out of her house but eventually she listens to his story

High Lord powers -> WILL be killed by brothers

Nesta's still kinda eh,

So Tam just PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE's and Nesta is eventually just like 'jesus fucking hell, fine, but i'm gonna make you do unpaid labour in the bookshop if you're gonna stay.'

So that's how life is for a while, they grow closer, and eventually Nesta tells him her story.

Years and years ago, her sisters were out playing in the woods near their home, and she was tasked by her mother with looking after them. But then as she was watching them, a thick wreath of shadow just... gathered them up and disappeared them from sight. They were never seen again, and Nesta's mother had hated her for it until her death, and Nesta has spent every day since then hating herself for it.

<><><>

"I- I tried," her throat bobbed, eyes going distant and hazy.

"I tried to go back for them, I took my winter cloak and walked to the wall to bring them back home."

A tear slid down her cheek, "I failed."

<><><>

Tamlin immediately goes sHaDowS? kidnapping? that fukcing bastard Rhysand -> Shit, I'm pretty sure I know where your sisters are -> cue trip across the faery world to find Feyre + Elain

SO, they finally trek to the wall, trek across the courts, end up in Night, and Tamlin + Rhysand confront each other (bitter ex lovers energy, obv)

<><><>

EXTRA BACKGROUND

Tamlin's father dies of illness or smth and his two older brothers fight to the death for the High Lord title, cept the winner almost forgot about Tamlin until the magic fails to go to him and he's like 'fuck', forgot to kill the other one, so he goes after Tamlin. BUT he makes the fatal mistake of asking Amarantha for help, and she's like, oh, you're trying to kill my beloved??! UNO reverse, fucker.

DEAD.

So now she's taken over the Spring Court and still trying to find Tamlin to make him her 'mate' and become High Lord/ Lady of Spring

BUT fae magic can't be sensed in the mortal realm, so she's just kind of been wasting time being a shitty ruler.

ALSO

Turns out Rhysand has only been taking young girls from the mortal realm to keep Amarantha happy-> she sacrifices them for her magic rituals, or if she likes them enough, keeps them as serving girls/ maids, and she'd originally wanted RHYSAND'S SISTER as her companion, so he was doing it for family. doesn't make it any better, but yeah

<><><>

"But if however, I were to present you to her... I am sure her appetites would be satiated for quite some time." Rhysand's eyes glittered and Nesta's stomach roiled at the implication. Beside her, Tamlin only listened with a stony silence.

Don't. she begged. Don't you fucking dare leave me.

<><><>

Rhysand brings them both before Amarantha, who is instantly threatened by/ jealous of Nesta x Tamlin

So she proposes a bargain.

<><><>

"Is your love true, I wonder?" Amarantha's wicked fangs leered down at her.

Nesta fought to keep her voice even. "It is."

"Would you love him if he were a mere man?"

"I would."

"Would you love him if he had nothing?"

"I would."

"Ah, but would you love him if he were a beast?"

She turned to him then. To Tamlin. To the man that she had grown to love so purely and wholly. It was to him that she spoke her next words.

"Man or beast, I would love him with all my heart. Thorns and all."

<><><>

Thus begins the trial of beasts.

A blood red ribbon is used to bind Nesta and Tamlin by their wrists.

Amarantha uses Tamlin's shapeshifting powers against him and forces him to shift into beasts of all kind without any control over his body.

If Nesta can maintain her hold on him throughout his beastly transformations and endure the claws/ fangs/ gashes/ bites without cutting the ribbon, Amarantha will let them all go (Nesta, Tamlin, Feyre and Elain)

Nesta, being the bamf she is, completes the challenge.

Amarantha, pissed as hell thinking that Nesta wouldn't be able to do it, but unable to break her bargain without repercussions, has no choice but to let them go.

the end

or is it???

AMARANTHA LETS THEM GO, BUT NOWHERE DID SHE SAY SHE WOULDNT ATTACK THEM AFTERWARDS, SO THAT'S WHAT SHE DOES

she goes for Nesta, and THAT'S when Tamlin's High Lord power finally snaps into place, because it was dormant the entire time he was in the mortal realm and he goes full beast mode on Amarantha and murks her once and for all.

[mothiir]

sorry to be that rehash that droid de suggondeez plotline (I REFUSE TO CORRECTLY SPELL FRENCH) with big e stealing a wife but could we pretttty ppLEAAAASE get some more mothiir? i am obsessed with the eldritch inhuman but human behaviour you write him with. it makes me want to chew on him while simultaneously wanting to beat him with a brick out of hatred. i have so many ideas. but ill take anything you offer up fr ill live off the scraps like a feral dog, its just that the the whole david and goliath vibe is TASTYYYY. please dignify my complete insanity for just an intsy winsy second because all i can imagine is how utterly FUCKED the stolenwife!reader's pov is. you try fight back a little too much? oh haha, ur so cute, but keep biting or scratching him and he'll sicc one of the custodes (or a few) to really try you out. let you be so overstimulated youre begging for something in you, and oh boy big e'll sooo do that dont worry. or maybe humble you by keeping you basically half bare like yeah not so cocky now LMFAO IM SO SORRY I NEVER GIVE PROMPTS SO BRAZENLY LIKE THIS BC IM A COWARD FULL OF SHAMEEE UR SO MUCH BRAVER THAN MEEE (thank you sm if you do or dont run with anything i spat out just then)

first of all, never apologise for requesting stuff and also i totally respect your disrespect of the French language. as an englishwoman i am contractually obligated to hate those frog-eating bastards (disclaimer: this is satire pls don’t cancel me). secondly i absolutely love your description of my interpretation of big e because it is also exactly how i feel about him. beat him with brick, pat hair, back to brick. I know i have moved away from that content but I still wave my emperor fucker flag and am always taking requests for him

i promise there will be actual coherent fic soon, but for now here is a bullet pointed list of the sort of things that guilliwife experiences (if there is one in particular you want a full fix of let me know):

the Emperor steals you, and does not think to tell Guilliman — why would he? He fucks you, enjoys it tremendously, then has to go and do some important Master of Mankind warp fuckery that means you spend about a fortnight in some random rooms with no one to talk to but the Custodes. And they barely talk! You never work out if they are bodyguards or prison guards, since you can’t imagine that you are important enough to warrant guarding, but you also don’t think that there is much effort needed to stop you escaping. Where would you even go?

It would be so much easier if he was always a selfish monster in bed — but he isn’t. Worse: he eats pussy exactly how you think a man with millennia of practice would. He likes bringing you to the very edge of orgasm and just stopping, pillowing his cheek on your stomach and watching as you whine and cry, partly with guilt and partly with sheer frustration. You end up begging him to fuck you, stumbling out every title you can think of — lord, emperor, sire, master — but his patience is limitless, and he can keep going for hours, until you’re completely insensible, promising every depraved thing if he will just stop teasing and put it in you

You belong to him. No one else is allowed to touch you — apart from valdor, one of his oldest friends and dearest allies. And captain Kytan. And a few other custodes. Sometimes at the same time. They’re extensions of his most absolutely not divine will — they can partake in the same luxuries he allows himself, otherwise what kind of a leader would he be? He likes seeing his best soldiers happy, especially when it’s because valdor is balls deep in your arse, while he enjoys the sweet warm stretch of your throat. You jostle and whimper between them, so full that you can barely breathe, and afterwards the emperor watches as valdor thumbs open your cheeks, just to watch your holes struggle to close up around the shape of his cock. Still, valdor can’t linger too long - there is already a line

He will cum inside you so much you swear your stomach bulges a little from it all. You have nightmares about popping like a balloon

eventually word reaches the Emperor that Guilliman is looking to speak to him as a matter of urgency — he is currently buried deep in your throat, enjoying the cute little gluck-gluck-gluck noises your gag reflex makes as you try to fit him all the way into your tight gullet. He does not ask you to stop this before answering the vox from a distraught Roboute, who is blathering about his fiancée going missing? The Emperor chuckles a little to himself, patting your hair — ah, having a woman to be wed and a woman in his bed, Roboute is far more like his father than first thought — wait. Ah. Singular woman. Singular. Shit.

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

Hiii! Can I request a Gojo x male reader smut? The reader is shy especially when it come to intimacy so I feel like Gojo would tease and tease him to no end. Can you choose the kinks please? (But I'm thinking more along the lines of Bdsm or a lap dance or something. )

I really love your writing and I am sorry if this request is bad. Enjoy your day♡

Thank you for enjoying my writing! I would be more than happy to fulfill your request!

I hope you also have a good day, patron~

Title: A Hands On Lesson

Characters: Gojo x m!reader

Contains: light BDSM, blindfolding, hand job, self restraint, praise

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

“I-If you’re gonna keep teasing me then at least teach me!”

The words came out suddenly, your face red with embarrassment as you buried it into a pillow. Gojo had been on your ass—playfully, he says—about your shyness that it finally sent you over the edge. You two were sitting on his large bed when it came up once again, but you had had enough. Snapping, however, only made you blurt out your true feelings, leaving Gojo to get a rush of ideas.

“Teach you, huh? Are you sure about that?”

You couldn’t face him, even if his gaze was hidden by his sunglasses.

“I need an answer~”

“I…N-No you’re just gonna keep teasing me…”

“Oh, listen. I tease you because I love you. I don’t mean anything ill behind it. You’re just fun to rile up~ I like seeing your face get all red~”

You were silent, unsure of how to approach this.

“Look, if you really want to expand upon things, you might want to be open to more experiences. I’m more than willing to teach you. But…I’ll need a ‘yes, sir.’~”

Your brows furrowed as you finally looked up some. “W-Why that?”

“Consent of course! Plus…I’ve always wanted to hear that handsome voice call me ‘sir.’~”

Still flushed as ever, you took a deep breath. You had really wanted this, but the idea was always scary. However, you trusted Gojo; he was your boyfriend after all.

You thought it over another moment, clutching the pillow before releasing another deep breath. “Y-Yes, sir.”

A grin grew on Gojo’s lips as he crawled over to you like a predator that found its food, but instead of you, he actually went for the nightstand, retrieving his eye mask from the drawer.

“W-Why did you grab that?” you asked.

“Well, it’s part of your lesson. That is, if you allow me.”

You weren’t sure what this had to do with anything, but you scooted closer, putting the pillow aside and waiting for his next move. Gojo put the mask over your eyes, bunching up the fabric in a way that concealed your vision. For a moment you though he was gonna put it on himself, not you.

“Wh-What’s this for?”

“Trust me. It’s all part of the lesson okay?”

And trust him you did, taking deep breaths to settle your nerves.

“Now, will you be a good boy for me, and put your hands behind your back?” You started to before he stopped you. “Ah, could I hear a proper answer~?”

You could tell he was teasing you again. You fought your nerves, mustering up what confidence you had, which wasn’t much. Your voice sounded meek. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Mm…we’ll work on it.”

With your hands behind your back, Gojo took action. He carefully unzipped your pants, his hand brushing your semi erect shaft.

“G-Gojo!”

He halted, watching as you trembled from that brief touch. Honestly he wasn’t sure how truly interested in this you were, so he came up with an idea.

“Hey, if you really, really don’t want to do this, just say…’pineapple’, okay?”

A safe word. Okay, that put your mind at ease a bit, because you weren’t even sure yourself what you wanted. At least you had a back up plan.

You nodded. “Y-Yeah. I gotcha. Um…g-go ahead then, just…d-don’t stare at it.”

“Don’t stare? What do you mean I can’t look at this gorgeous cock of yours~?” Gojo didn’t miss a beat getting back into it, working on revealing a partially hardened cock from its fabric confines. “I mean look at that~”

“G-Gojooooooo…” you whined softly, nails gently digging into your skin. His touch felt heightened thanks to the blindfold, and your trembling body was a clear sign of it.

“Good boy~ Very good boy~” He gently began to stroke your cock, anything soft nearly immediately hardening as you sighed out in slow, deep breaths. You didn’t know praise could feel so good. It felt nice hearing him call you a good boy.

“Wh-What else is…i-in this lesson?” you breathed, your hips rocking up to match his strokes.

“Hmm…Well first, good boys stay still…”

Though it wasn’t a command, you found yourself stilling in place, biting your cheek to help you focus.

“Oh? Well I wasn’t expecting that. You stilled yourself right away. I think that deserves a treat~”

You were about to ask what it was, but you stopped yourself, wanting to just see where this would lead. Knowing you had that safe word made this a little less scary, which left you open when Gojo’s hand picked up pace, causing you to actively moan out instead of whimper.

“There we go~ That’s my good boy~”

Every time he said it, you let out a whimper, enjoying the sensation the words gave you.

“G-Gojo…I-I…—a-ah~—I-It feels…g-good~”

Perhaps it was the blindfold, or maybe it was the trust you had for Gojo, but you didn’t feel as nervous. Sure it was still nerve wracking, or maybe your nerves were too wracked to notice, but the pace of his hand alone felt like bliss.

“G-Gojo…s-sir, I’m…I-I’m gonna…~”

“Go ahead~ I want to see that handsome face contort from this~”

You threw caution to the wind, your hands coming down to balance you on the bed, fingers clenching the bedding as you bucked up into his hand, panting deeply as your climax approached. You moaned for you boyfriend again and again, even as it pitched up, until you finally released over his hand with a broken moan, relaxing afterwards.

With a small smirk, Gojo raised his hand to his mouth, his tongue coming out to clean his hand while getting a taste of you with a soft groan.

“G-Gojo…” you breathed. “I…Th-That was…fun~”

You felt the bed shift, and the fabric lifted up from your eyes, Gojo’s face smiling smugly at you.

“Ready for lesson number two~?”

[fernsnailz]

HI . GET ON THE DISSECTION TABLE. taking your brain RIGHT NOW OH MY GODDDDD. OH MY god ,,, everything in the zine,,,,,

obviously the quality of your work, the art itself is so good ,,,, but OUGHHGGGGHGH i need to bang my head into a wall until im unconscious . like the title itself, starting off . woe mama we are in for a fucked up roboty treat . your comps . your writing . in the most respectful and awestuck tone possible . i need to kill you

my favorite i think is how you draw gemerl ,, all the robots you nail their expressiveness but oughh ,, him in particular makes me kick my feet . 'you are everything i fear becoming' makes me actually tear the fucking floorboards up the themes of autonomy ,,,,,, ,,, and how you storytell through your comic panels,,, the 'what a fool you are to think the doctor is gone' panel set makes me drink 2 Monsters and eat glass

THE . THE IMPOSSIBLE GOAL COMIC RAGHHHHHH. FAV FAV FAV . geninely shaking and trembling looking at it like jesus thats so fucked up ,,, your mind . your writing is so everything !! i would love to get any insight for how you workshop it because it is consistently breathtaking it sticks with me so heavily,,, one time i accidentally stole a line of dialogue word for word from your Never turn back zine comic and had to change it dfhjd,,,,, (wow this line is so cool ! ...a little toooo cool. squint.) but yeah god the last comic wow,, your panel compositions are banger after banger you are so good at consistently writing evocative stuff,,, tragic, rlly funny, hopeful, its so inspirational

thank u so much for putting together such a cool zine, would love to have it physically one day !

GOD. THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS EDIT IS KILLING ME. this is such a rewarding ask to get, i'm so glad you picked up on these things!!

my writing work shopping style is. hm. a bit all over the place. i have a lot of thoughts about it i'll put under a cut if you're interested. there's a lot of little things i've picked up that help me out so so much that i would really love to share!

ok FIRST i should note that it took me so goddamn long to write this thing. like i had the very very VERY first concepts for metal sonic good future like. a year ago. the first scrawlings are literally in a notebook right after some thumbnails i was using for dance in fire and i was editing dialogue up until two days ago. i'm ill

BUT!!! there are a few things i like to keep in mind when i write/edit that have really helped me!

GET OTHER PEOPLE TO READ YOUR STUFF. ESSENTIAL STEP. i get stuck in holes with my work a lot and having beta readers and other eyes on this thing made it like a million times better

sometimes you have to kill your baby. there will be certain lines or moments that you ADORE that simply don't fit into the larger piece, and you gotta just cut it out to make it better sometimes. but usually this gives birth to an even cooler and more epic baby. or sometimes your killed baby is also resurrected later to be used in a different scene. does this make any sense

figuring out what emotion you want a scene to make people feel is very important - with this in mind, i also pay really close attention to how my writing or scene concepts make me feel physically. i think this is the thing that has helped me most with work shopping anything i want to be evocative. does a line make me tense my jaw? make my teeth vibrate? make my chest tight? do i suddenly feel the blood in my hands? if it makes me feel something within my body, i try to draw on that physical sensation when forming the rest of the scene.

ok this last one is. stupid. as i was wrapping up this thing i went through a final edit phase i'd call "Garten of Banban Vision." Garten of Banban is an indie horror game that has uhhh kinda mid dialogue. a lot of it focuses on exposition, and any emotion in it feels a bit hollow. with this in mind, i read through everything one last time and imagined like all of the lines were from a Garten of Banban game and spoken in the character's monotone voices. if the line felt like it could fit a little too well in the Garten of Banban world, i considered editing it. but if i started thinking "oh shit this is pretty good for a Garten of Banban game" i knew it was fine. do you understand what i was alluding to when i said my writing process is a bit all over the place

in conclusion. writing hard

[ur-dad-satan]

WHB brainrot/opinions/shitpost

Hey, how y'all doing?? Will this reach fellow whb stans? I hope so! Have some drabble in the form of bullet points so it's somewhat readable. For now, we're family fucking friendly (ish) <3

FIRST OFF, let me say these kings are FIIIIIINNNEEEEEEE as fuck! Why they so pretty?!!?

Gah damn, why is Mammon so HUGE?? I mean this shit in every way!! That mf is not only tall (201 cm/~6'6"), but the buffest fucking character I've seen in these kinds of games?? And his presence is massive too??

The fact that all of the kings are mentally ill and kinky is honestly iconic as fuck and the representation I didn't know I needed??

Also why does the wiki have their SIZES (except Asmodeus)?? I didn't need to know that, but also I did, you get me?

Like I just did Mammon's "devil's energy" story thing and MC was over here talking about "if he puts that thing in me, I'll break" or whatever then finding out what we were working with made it make so much more sense.

Mam is 27.5 cm (~10.5 in) and he's not even the biggest?! Like how the fuck am I supposed to survive Lucifer who's 30 cm (~11.8 in) ????

And excuse my Fr*nch, but WHY THE EVERLOVING FUCK DIDN'T THEY LET MAMMON MOAN DURING THE DEVIL'S ENERGY STORY?!!?

Maybe I'm just a slut for men sounding completely helpless and pathetic, but of the 6 or so that I've done, Leraye's was the best voice acting and Mammon's had the best dialogue.

Speaking of, I don't know if anyone else feels this way, but Paimon's devil's energy story was my least favorite. It just wasn't it for me

I also LOVE Ppyong! If anything EVER happens to him, I will kill everyone around and then myself if I'm not completely restrained

And then I'd still go ballistic after I'm set free

Let's run it back to the kings, now

The fact that Mammon calls Beelzebub "Bell" is SO FUCKING CUTE to me and I love him for that

Why is that actually adorable and why is Mammon so fucking precious like he's so sweet and adorable I want him for real

... I need him to model every last pair that he owns

For science of course

I'm folding. Immediately. Because this man is like over a foot taller than me, there would be butterflies in my stomach and a tear rolling down my leg

And I just KNOW his hands are like bigger than my entire head and the smile on his face!!! Oh my god??

What do I think I want?? Baby I NEED YOU!!

Also the fact that "You" was one of the answer options was so funny to me. At least the devs know their fans

That wasn't the only thing that was big if you know what I mean

Like... do y'all think he'd summon a giant gold fist for a picnic date??

Do y'all think he's a romantic? I wholeheartedly think he is especially since he liked when when we were possessive talking about he's ours (real)

Real. I'm not even mad

I mean, I know it's fat, but you get what you give so do be surprised when I grab back

Also, I love me a man who can multitask. He's killing angels and grabbing our ass, like PLEASE

The way he didn't even have to look to take that fucker's head off and just kept talking to us like it didn't even happen is fucking hot at fuck!

I'm not gonna beat around the bush!! The story section AND the devil's energy thing had me blushing, giggling, kicking my feet because oh my god?? Like I want him in real life?? (I know I already said that, but I mean it)

The way I was actually excited when I saw that this was gonna me Mammon and not Belial (sorry, but I didn't really care about him in that way)

And like LOOK AT HIS FACE!!

Like the blush, the sweat- it's enough it make me forget that the MC is a skinny white girl with purple hair that looks nothing like me (I don't actually care what she looks like and I chose the girl MC on purpose anygay)

And the title? Baby I was claiming you as "my man my man my man" since I first laid eyes on your big ass

I'd still claim you as mine if you were broke because look at YOUUUU

You're about to start something the game won't let me finish

Don't... don't give me hope like this

This is one of the only men who can get away with this shit

Actually, there's plenty of fictional men who could get away with calling me this

There's like four real life men who can do this and get a positive reaction from me and they're all way older than me and will never meet me...

Baby you better BELIEVE I'm gonna hold you to that

I'm so for real too.

Like the way he's like "yeah, we can fuck anytime"?? Bet

Like if you leave me in a room with this man for more than five minutes, at least one of us is gonna come out panting and/or limping

And honey, 'want' is and understatement. I NEED it. Partially because I'll literally die without it, but still

Done.

You don't have to do anything but give me a smile

Like I already want you, sir you don't have to win shit

I wouldn't mind if you tried, but that's just for your own amusement then

That's my line-

Without being graphic, because that's not what this post is for, that scene was fucking hot

It's not my favorite of them all, but it's definitely up there

But baby you better BELIEVE I'm about to take you

Like when I'm done with him, he'll "be there" as he said he wasn't

If that game had let me keep going... I won't say what I'd do, but we'd both need an ice pack, a hot shower, and a four hour nap afterward

Okay, that's enough. I'm gonna be blabbering about this game so much more. (Can you tell who's my favorite?)

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Now I’m Covered In You [Chapter 1: Afternoon Light]

Series summary: Aemond is a prince of England. You are married to his brother. The Wars of the Roses are about to begin, and you have failed to fulfill your one crucial responsibility: to give the Greens a line of legitimate heirs. Will you survive the demands of your family back in Navarre, the schemes of the Duke of Hightower, the scandals of your dissolute husband, the growing animosity of Daemon Targaryen…and your own realization of a forbidden love?

Series title is a lyric from: Ivy by Taylor Swift.

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+), dubious consent, miscarriage, pregnancy, childbirth, violence, warfare, murder, alcoholism, sexism, infidelity, illness, death, only vaguely historically accurate, lots of horses!

Word count: 3.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

A/N: Not me pulling a Tom Brady by announcing my retirement only to immediately un-announce it. 😂😂 I regret to inform you that I am apparently incapable of not writing fanfiction. I had no ideas for a grand total of 1 week before this story showed up and possessed me entirely against my will...and then I fell in love with it. I’m still working on my book, but I had to get this out of my system too. I hope you enjoy it. 💜 I’ll tag some of my past readers, but I WILL NOT TAG YOU AGAIN unless you ask me to! 🥰

@elsolario @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl @charenlie @thewew @eddies-bat-tattoos @minttea07 @joliettes @trifoliumviridi @flowerpotmage​ @thewitch-lives​ @tempt-ress​ @padfooteyes​ @teenagecriminalmastermind​ @chelsey01​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @heliosscribbles​ @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @tillyt04​ @cicaspair418​ @fan-goddess

He’s thrusting into you, but you’re miles away: a speck of an island in the Mediterranean Sea, the glimmer of an unnamed star.

His rhythm is clumsy but never rough. He smells like wine and sandalwood, lavender and bleak perspiration. You moan when he expects you to. Your body moves with his, compliant, complicit. You roll your hips and tug at his white-blond hair, corollaries of ecstasy you wish you felt. You’ve learned to feign pleasure convincingly. Aegon will stop if he thinks you’re not enjoying yourself, and you need this to be over. What do you want me to do to you? he’ll ask, cerulean eyes drunk and muddy, words slurred, body repositioning. Do you like it this way? How about this? You can’t bear his curious consideration, his invasive hands. You don’t really like it any way. You’ve grown to accept that. You’ve had time to get used to the idea.

The air is sharp with the mineral ether of sex. Spots on the sheet beneath you are wet, clinging, cold. When Aegon kisses you—sloppily, carelessly—your lips and tongue follow his, willing him to finish, your eyes squeezed shut as he gropes your face with ungainly fingers. And at last, it’s done: he shudders, groans, flops down beside you on the mattress.

“Well done, wife,” Aegon pants. He gives your disheveled hair one absentminded stroke and then gazes up at the canopy, cloth embroidered with green roses and spiraling gold dragons. He yawns, his eyes dipping closed. The rise and fall of his bare, glistening chest is slowing.

“Aegon?”

“Hm?” He is inconvenienced; he is already half-asleep.

You roll onto your side, turning towards him. Aegon feels the mattress shift. Reluctantly, he rouses himself, sighs, swallows the rest of the wine in the cup he left perched on the nightstand. “I’m so sorry,” you say softly.

“About what?” He peers at you, groggy and half-listening, stray beads of red wine like blood on his chin. “Oh, yes. That.”

That. What he means is three miscarriages in one year, all early, all excruciating beyond words, all destructive to both the body and the soul. “You have no idea how hard I’m trying.”

“Don’t worry yourself, wife,” he says, yawning again. He always calls you that—wife—with a vague, impersonal fondness. Aegon doesn’t know anything about you. He doesn’t seem interested in remedying that. He doesn’t see it as something to be remedied at all. He attempts to set his empty cup back on the nightstand and doesn’t notice when it tumbles off and clanks against the floor. He burrows beneath the blankets like a hedgehog. “We’ll get it right eventually.”

Eventually, you think with horror, as you are left alone in the candlelight; Aegon plummets into sleep and is silent except for his snoring. How long will I have to do this?

Twelve months of marriage and you are no closer to fulfilling your purpose here. You are told what to eat, when to sleep with your husband, how to lie still afterwards so his seed can take hold, which saints to pray to. You are offered tender-voiced morsels of advice until they feel more like palms cracking across your face than gifts. Every second of your existence is consumed by the desperate need for Aegon’s heir, for the Greens’ future. And each time you lose a pregnancy, the clock starts over again.

How long can I do this before it breaks me, kills me, drives me mad?

~~~~~~~~~~

When a northern pike glides through cool rippling currents, yellow perch and bluegills scatter; and that’s exactly what the courtiers do to you. It’s a bit like living inside a glass bowl: people press their palms to the arched walls and stare like you’re a captive animal—a leopard or an elephant or a white bear from the Arctic—but they don’t speak to you. None of them know what to say. There are whispers flying, women in gowns and men in tunics gossiping about how last night was the first time the prince returned to your bed since your most recent miscarriage. The tentative speculation can begin again, glances at your waistline and delicate inquiries about your health. Bets are placed on whether you will at last produce an heir this time: boy, girl, white-haired or not, early, late, alive, dead. The clock has been reset.

You do not allow anyone to see your pain, your desperation. You have no true friends here. You are allied with the Greens, yes, but that does not mean they are your friends. The Duke of Hightower, chief advisor to the king, was insistent that you bring none of your ladies with you from your homeland; and so the women who attend you are English, polite but not particularly devoted, dutiful but not reliably discreet. He wanted no weak links, no chess pieces that he could not entirely control, no loyalties that ran deeper than his ambitions for Alicent and her children. Now, the Duke of Hightower is fiercely disappointed with you. He’s losing his ability to hide it.

As you traverse the Great Hall of Westminster Palace—an island, a lone cloud roaming across a clear sky—Prince Daemon, smirking and wolflike, stalks into your path.

“Hello there, Navarre,” he says, circling with one hand on the hilt of his sword, his strange deep-set eyes flicking all over you. He likes to call you this, a reminder of where you came from, of why Aegon married you: for an alliance, for advantages in the inevitable civil war when King Viserys dies, for heirs intrinsically linked with the Continent. You were one piece of a far grander design. Helaena was married off to Castile, you were brought west from Navarre, and thus the Greens gained supporters in the Iberian Peninsula. Helaena has given birth to one healthy son so far, and by all accounts has found great happiness in her new life across the Bay of Biscay. Daemon never tires of drawing attention to the fact that you have yet to fulfill your half of the bargain.

You bow your head swiftly, without conviction. “Prince Daemon.”

“My, that’s quite an extravagant gown. What have you got hidden under it? Your father’s famed archers, perhaps? Gold coins and steel daggers? I know what Prince Aegon would want under his skirts.” Daemon grins. “Lady Joanna Montford. Or is it Mountford? You must forgive me, I’m always mixing up the details.”

“I’ll defer to your better judgment, you have far more experience with whores than I do.”

He offers you a single rose, dyed black. “I regret that I did not have the opportunity to properly express my condolences after your most recent loss. It’s become difficult to keep up with them, they’ve grown so numerous. I’m sure you understand.”

You take the rose; untrimmed thorns bite into the defenseless flesh of your fingertips, but you don’t let it show on your face. “Only one from you? Your wife sent me a dozen.” They were red, the color of Navarre’s flag; though the resemblance to blood did not escape you.

“Yes, it’s true, her heart remains rather tender, much to my chagrin.”

“And yours remains nonexistent.” You pluck onyx petals from the rose one by one and toss them to the floor. Courtiers watch this, chattering spiritedly.

Daemon is still grinning. He has won. It never matters what you say, what you do; until you give Aegon a son, in every interaction Daemon walks away the victor. “I hope you enjoy the rest of this glorious July afternoon. And I hope you enjoy your evening as well. And the evening after that, and the evening after that…” He prowls closer, his voice dropping low and sinister. “And all those countless, blundering, long evenings you’ll spend under your mortifying drunk of a husband.”

You rip away from him—not his hands, no, even Daemon would not deign to touch you in front of an audience, but from his suffocating antipathy—and continue on your way to the royal stables, courtiers dispersing in your wake like startled doves. The cobblestones of the palace gardens are weather-beaten and craggy as you sail over them, warm summer wind in your hair, the hem of your gown dragging. Herbs and spices grow high and vivid green: angelica for digestion, feverfew for headaches, St. John’s wort for melancholy, betony to ward off evil spirits, chamomile to bring sleep, rosemary to quell nightmares, pennyroyal to induce a woman’s monthly blood. You have the opposite problem. All you seem to be able to do is bleed.

Inside the royal stables, the world is reduced to hushed subtleties: hooves thudding against straw, nickers and huffs, the swishing of tails, cascading sunlight dotted with whirling planets of dust. You drift by each of the stalls, inhaling the scent of horses and mid-summer. King Viserys promised you an Andalusian, brought by ship all the way from your homeland, for each child born to you and Aegon; alas, none of the animals housed here are yours yet. There’s Sunfyre, an Akhal-Teke, small-boned and shimmering gold. There’s Caraxes, a temperamental blood bay Arabian, and Syrax, a Marwari, cremello with blue eyes and delicate ears that curl in towards each other. Tessarion is a dappled blue-grey Percheron, young but gaining height and brute force each day. Jacaerys and Lucerys have Marwaris like their mother, Baela and Rhaena own volatile Arabians like their father. Joffrey is still riding a slow, potbellied pony; little Aegon III, Viserys II, and Visenya cannot ride at all yet. Every time you blink, it seems, the Blacks have added another child to their ranks, another inheritor to carry their claim forward. Your stomach sinks beneath your skin and scarlet ropes of muscle, a basket full of rocks.

You stop at the last stall, twice the size of any of the others. Vhagar towers over you. She is an English Great Horse, and the largest one that anyone can remember knowing of; her coat is a dark, lustrous brown, her massive hooves feathered, her muzzle sloped and velvety when you lay your palm against it. She lets you do this, as she always does; more than that, you think, she welcomes it.

You remove the letter from your bodice, your true purpose for coming here. You want to read it where you can be alone, where there are no prying eyes to report back to King Viserys, Queen Alicent, the Duke of Hightower, Aegon, Daemon, Rhaenyra the Crown Princess. You must keep your composure, your dignity. It’s all you have left.

You unfold the letter, your gaze skimming across your mother’s words, the slopes and summits of her letters heartbreakingly familiar, her fears loud through the ink-and-parchment silence. You expected this, and yet the weight of it stacks up in your ribcage like the splintered wreckage of a ship.

Think, my love, the Queen of Navarre writes. Think of everything you do, see, say, and feel. There is something that is poisoning the children inside of you. Do not trouble yourself with court gossip or bitter rivalries. You cannot serve your husband’s family—your family, now—if your attention is divided and your heart heavy with doubts. Shut yourself away from all things impassioned. Commit yourself to prayer and needlework. Purify yourself, dear daughter, prepare yourself in body and soul. God answers the cries of those who have won his favor.

You crumple the letter in your fists and then rip it to pieces, not out of wrath but so that nobody else might read it. The fragments flutter away like autumn leaves. You cannot resent your mother for her cushioned reprimands. She means well, but she cannot hope to understand; she bore ten children, eight of whom lived past the cradle, with no exceptional difficulty. Your father has taken mistresses on occasion, but not until years into his marriage, and regardless of his dalliances your mother remains his confidant, his greatest desire, his heart. Your life is nothing like hers. Your future has become something you didn’t know existed. You feel as if you have stumbled into a mirror, a duplicate world where everything is the same but the wrong way around. Where is your own satisfaction? Where is your soulmate?

There are footsteps, and you spin to see Prince Aemond standing in the doorway. He immediately turns to leave, and this is unsurprising; he never speaks to you, rarely looks at you, glides out of rooms as you come into them. You had once hoped to befriend him before his aversion to the notion became clear. He is palpably disinterested in you. But this afternoon as warm golden sunlight spills down on him, for reasons you cannot fathom, he hesitates; and now he’s waited too long, it would be rude for him to flee so obviously from you. Slowly, Aemond walks into the stable. He is so much like Daemon, though lighter: not in color but in gravity, his steps quieter, his hands graceful and precise. You’ve never seen him without his eyepatch. The Blacks call the cause of his maiming a sparring accident, the Greens call it an ambush, King Viserys doesn’t call it anything; perhaps he has forgotten it completely.

You expect Aemond to demand to know what you’re doing here, to scold you for jeopardizing your health with unnecessary excursions. “I’m so sorry for what you’re going through,” he says instead, his voice whisper-soft like pattering spring rain, like a leaf of lamb’s ear threaded between your fingers. “I hope my brother has been…kind about it.”

“He’s very kind. He doesn’t mention it at all.” Not once has anybody said those three words to you: I’m so sorry. They lift a million pounds from your shoulders, an eon of stones from your belly. “In fact, no one speaks of it with me. They speak in my direction, they tell me what to do differently, they assign blame…but no one has any interest in what I have to say back. No one asks me what it feels like to…to…”

It shocks you, knuckles to the gut: your breath hitches, your lips tremble, you swallow down tears like poison. It’s humiliating, this display of helplessness, this shattering of regal poise. You shield your face with both hands so Aemond cannot watch you war with yourself. And surely he is repulsed by you, this prince who has been mutilated and unavenged and overlooked since childhood. You have never known anyone as self-possessed as Aemond Targaryen. He endures all of life’s trials without emotion, without weakness. He must be appalled that you cannot do the same.

Yet when you are at last confident that you will not weep in front of him, you lower your hands to see that Aemond has silently obliterated the space between you. He is close enough to touch, his palm pressed to Vhagar’s monstrous neck. He’s looking at the horse, but he is listening to you. “She likes you,” he says gently. “She doesn’t like anyone.”

You’ve never been in such proximity to Aemond before. He’s taller than you remember; his eye is watchful and intent, a paler shade of blue than Aegon’s, more clear, a river rather than a sea riotous with storms. When you inhale, you taste pieces of him: leather, musk, the smoke of a blacksmith’s forge. There’s an abrupt weakness in your knees and ankles that you pretend not to notice. “Most of my friends have hooves these days.”

“I never see you go out riding.”

“I’m not allowed to.”

For an instant, his brow knits with confusion, and then he remembers. Horseback riding is thought to be calamitous for pregnancy, and your chances are slim enough already. “But that’s something that you once enjoyed, back in Navarre?” You flinch when you hear the name of your homeland, a reflex, Daemon’s taunts ringing in your skull like church bells. Everyone knows that’s what he calls you. “Forgive me, perhaps that word has painful connotations now.”

“It doesn’t sound so bad when you say it.” And that’s true: it’s not a dagger but a murmur, a musing, a dream. “Yes, I used to love riding horses. And dancing, attending hunting expeditions, reading poetry, plucking olives from the trees…my brothers and I would even knock swords together sometimes in the courtyard.” You smile wistfully, then lose it like a gull feather on waves. “And now I don’t do anything.”

“What brings you happiness here in England?”

“Nothing,” you reply, meeting his gaze for the first time. He studies you, his eye blue like the mid-summer afternoon sky, searching. And suddenly, you’ve never felt more interesting, you’ve never felt such raw hunger to unearth everything you’re built of. You skate your palm down Vhagar’s face and confess quietly, shakily: “I always thought I would teach my children to ride horses.”

“You will someday,” Aemond insists.

“When you’re little, five or ten years old, you dream about growing up and all the miraculous things you’ll be. And then you finally become an adult and you meet the rest of your life and…and…” You don’t like it. “It’s so different from what you imagined.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees, soft and mournful.

“But I’ve interrupted you,” you say. “You came here to take Vhagar riding, I’m sure, and now you’re caught in my little web of nostalgia and self-pity. Please, accept my apology, and don’t let me delay you any further.”

“I was planning to go riding,” Aemond admits. He’s wearing a black leather messenger bag, you notice for the first time. He pulls at the strap that hangs from his right shoulder self-consciously. You have never seen Aemond betray any sign of self-consciousness before this moment. In many ways, you have never seen him at all. He asks you pointedly: “What if I took Vhagar out walking you accompanied me?”

“I told you. I can’t.”

“Not riding,” Aemond says. “Just walking. We’ll lead her down to the edge of the forest, let her stretch her legs a bit and eat some of the fallen apples. You’re allowed to walk, aren’t you?”

“I suppose so.” You stare at him, perplexed. You almost ask why he would offer to do such a thing, why he would feel inspired to raise your spirits. But you don’t want him to change his mind. You point to his messenger bag. “What do you have in there?”

“Parchment. Quills. A bottle of ink.”

“What do you write? Battle plans? Letters to marriageable foreign noblewomen?”

“Poems,” Aemond confesses in a whisper you can barely hear, not looking at you.

“Could I read some of your poems?”

“No,” he says immediately, startled.

“Never mind. It was wrong of me to ask.”

He doesn’t reply; he just fetches Vhagar’s halter from the hook on the stable wall, black leather studded with sapphires the size of ladybugs. She allows Aemond to place it on her without any resistance. He attaches the lead chain—heavy silver links—but he doesn’t need it. Vhagar follows him out of the stables, her colossal hooves drumming like distant thunder, her jet black mane whipping in the wind. Aemond matches his pace with yours as the three of you cross the emerald green field that separates Westminster Palace from the tree line of the forest.

After strolling for a while—Vhagar chomping on apples, you stepping gingerly over felled branches and gnarled roots—you and Aemond sit beneath a sprawling cedar that blots out the sun, its limbs like the wings of a dragon. He recounts myths and legends of England, things that Aegon has not thought to share with you once in the past twelve months, weeks of which you spent in bed bleeding out his would-be children: King Arthur and Beowulf, Robin Hood and the Rollright Stones, Saint George the guardian of the royal family. And as Aemond speaks, at some point you stop hearing him and start seeing him, everything that brought him here, everything that will happen next.

Once upon a time, King Viserys named his daughter Rhaenyra his successor. She was his only surviving offspring, the last vestige of his cherished wife Aemma, dead in fruitless childbirth and cold in her tomb in Windsor Castle. The king then promptly remarried and fathered four more Targaryens, closer to afterthoughts than assets in his eyes: Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, Daeron. Rhaenyra is still the king’s favorite, and is much loved in Northern England, where her mother hailed from. She has the support of Scotland as well. Her marriage to their Crown Prince Laenor Velaryon was meant to consolidate the two nations under one ruling family, one flag. To reinforce this alliance, her uncle Daemon wed Laenor’s sister Laena. But then Laena died, and Laenor did too, and all those tragic pieces fell together for Rhaenyra to get what she evidently wanted all along: Daemon in wedlock, in her confidence, in her bed. Her sons with Laenor will soon marry his daughters with Laena, and each new white-haired child she produces with her uncle gives the Blacks one more dynastic pawn to play in the game of thrones.

The merchants of Southern England—the Duke of Hightower foremost among them—are aghast at the thought of Rhaenyra’s ascension. No woman has ever successfully ruled England, and she is sure to be malevolently influenced by her uncle-husband. The Pope will not sanction their incestuous union, nor those of their children, though this does not daunt the Blacks. They will make a new order here in the British Isles; they will not play by the Continent’s rules. In reply, the kingdoms of Western Europe—to varying degrees of zealousness—support the Greens and the coronation of Aegon II upon his father’s death. King Viserys is in fine health now, but that could change at a moment’s notice: with a fall from a horse, with veins darkened by infection, with a vial of poison, with a resurgence of Plague. When the king is dead, Aegon must have every possible advantage to offer England, including a clear line of succession. This was supposed to be your role. This has become your greatest failure. Yet here under a hundred-year-old cedar tree outside Westminster Palace, Aemond makes you forget that for a while.

Hours later, you are back in your bedchamber when your husband arrives to fuck you. That’s a crude word for it, but that’s exactly what it is: something he does to you, not with you. You gulp down a cup of your apple cider, the drink you like best here in England, not as thick and bitter as ale, not a poor imposter of the Continent’s red wine. It is bright, sweet, sometimes vaguely minty. It makes you think of spring and summer, of rebirth. It fills you with the undying ambition to bear fruit of your own.

You turn to Aegon, who is yanking off his white shirt with his back to you, his hair in disarray, his pores sweating out wine and indifference. He crawls into the bed on all fours, slapping himself lightly across the face, forcing himself to stay awake until the act is done.

And you think, for the very first time: I wonder what it would have been like to marry Aemond.

[tiredandwireds-blog]

@jennalistening i got u

Ok here's a list of all the best Dick and Damian(mostly with father/son dynamics) fics imo. Pls dont judge me.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40095006

The Stowaway (5099 words) by LittleLadybugs

Short sweet and fluffy! Damian sneaks a cat into the penthouse and struggles to keep it hidden. At least Dick always has his back!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32923282

Emergency Contact by DawnsEternalLight for grousemouse

Hilarious and cute! Damian gets attacked on a school trip and is just the way youd expect him to be lol. Dick freaks out ofc

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49322866

my shoulders are heavy already by a_alene

Ughhh its sooo goodddd! Damian and Dick sickfic cannot recommend enoughhh plsplspls read ittt

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36304804

a chance to celebrate by emavee

So cuteee! The batfam throws a party to celebrate Dick adopting Damian. Its such a cute story that gives insight into each characters feelings and its also fluffy as hell!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46392967

Father's Day (we were the best) by InkpotSprite

Damian decides to celebrate Dick on Mother's and Father's Day lol cute and absolutely hilarious!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40260231

I'll Carry You by BrickSheep

BrickSheep puts it best with the tag Comfort No Hurt. Its exactly as the title says dick carries damian and i get a rush of dopamine lol

https://archiveofourown.org/series/890946

I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus by pupeez4eva

Damian becomes convinced Santa is after Dick Bruce is confused and Jason is evil. So pretty par for the course lol. Tbh tho this fic had me laughing so hard my sides hurt an absolute beautiful nightmare to read

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51531457

The Ping-Pong Wars by fadesfanfic

Stephanie and Damian bonding! Dick being worried over Damian! And oh the shenanigans! Its beautiful and sweet and funny and iloveitsomuchhh

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28186434

Paint Cans and Sneaking Out by CarrionCarnival

Damian sneaks out to do some graffiti and tries not to get caught lol. Cute and fun. A whole new look for Damian that I loveee

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22544392

The R Stands for – by Cirth

A beautifully written look into Damian's adjustment to his new home. Honestly made me cry ngl but sometimes you need that

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52221118

Obsolete Tools and Tangible Miseries by Corybantic

Ok we def in angst territory now gang! Damian thinks hes nothong but a weapon and Dick helps convince him otherwise. Read at your own risk cause i was sobbinggg

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37052449

the city without stars in its skies by Alienu

Ok i literally just reread this one anddd. Ughhhh im dyingggg. Damian is sent to kill Officer Dick Grayson you see where this is goinggg its so gooddd plsreadplsreadplsread

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40538418

Home Is Where the Heart Is by LittleLadybugs

Ok ill admit this ones more batfam focused then just dick and dami but still. So good. Dick is adopted by Slade not Bruce and goes running to blüdhaven to hide from him. Sadly the Birds wont leave hime alone

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22395412

Not by Blood, Maybe by Heart by Ellegrine

Ok we back to fluff now lol. Damian loves his brothers even if he never says it. In this fic he shows it by protecting Dicks honor lol

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18296282

Still the Best by Cdelphiki

3 great fics all in one spot! Literally some of the best stuff ive ever read! Iloveitiloveitiloveit pls readdd

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10918887

Catch Me (All Records Indicate) by Engineerd

The evolution of the nickname lil D. Cute and so sweet. Short but such a comfort read

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29866386

This Too Shall Pass by DarthPeezy

Just oh. just so so goodddd. Another gorgeous look at Damian adjusting to his new life with the batfam tho this one is more plot directed and ohmygosh did that plot have me in a death grip

And finally my top 2 fav fics:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19718083

Throughout Infinity by flumen

Damian is sent to an alternate universe and meets young justice Dick and crew. Ok no summary i can do will do this fic justice just know i read this in one sitting and immediately felt my sense of priorities and my mind shift. No joke this changed me.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021464

3:16 by partingxshot

AAAHHHH

Ok now i can talk abt this. Im in the process of rereading this AGAIN bc i literally cannot be left alone. Ok quick summary: each chapter follows Dick and Damian adjusting to their new life as Batman and Robin. I feel like most everyone who is in love with the dynamic between Dick and Damian has read this fic but i cant leave it out bc its literally my fav fic EVER. i will never be normal abt this fic if you havent read it yet plspls do

[jyoongim]

~BLOOD & BLISS~

Human!Alastor x wife!Reader

Themes: 1930 based! Human!Alastor x wife!Reader, domestic life!fluff, smut, slow burn plot, devotion, slight manipulation, mention of children, pregnancy,  blood, murder, secrets 

————————————————————————

Chapter three chapter five

Chapter Four

“Oh darling look at you! And here I thought you wouldn’t give me grandchildren” your mother laughed as she hugged you.

Your mother had invited you and Alastor over since you had sent her a letter about some exciting news you wanted to share.

You didn’t know whether to take her comment as a compliment or insult.

”Why ain’t your husband with you? I know that man ain’t have you travel here all alone in your condition” she frowned displeased.

”Momma you know how busy Al is. He’s been trying to catch up on work so he can take time off for the baby” you pouted.

She sucked her teeth, before a smile dawned her face

”well that means we can go shopping! Have you decorated the nursery? Do you have a nursery? Oooh honey why don’t you come home when you have the baby? A newborn is a lot of work” she was ranting and you sighed, rubbing your heavy stomach.

”Momma im perfectly capable of taking care of my baby.  I’ve read all the books” your mother gave you a funny look

”books? Oh girl those books ain’t gonna help you. You need experience. Youre a first time mom, you have no instincts in raising a youngin ”

You pouted. You felt like a teenager being chastised.

You knew your mother meant well, but sometimes you had to stop her ‘good intentions’.

”Ill be fine. Alastor’s gonna be there and Im sure we can figure it out. Aint that what parenthood all about?”

She hummed “If you say, now lets head to town. I want my grandbaby to have the best!”

—————————————————————————-

You fanned yourself as you finally sat down. The summer heat was not kind to you as your mother had dragged you to every shop in town.

The two of you had finished up shopping and were now at a little restaurant. You smiled in thanks as the waiter sat a glass of cold water in front of you.

Your mother cooed as she looked over several items she had bought.

You think she was more excited than you and you were the pregnant one.

”Momma I think you overdid it. There’s no way the baby is gonna wear or use any of that” you mused, sipping the water.

She waved you off.

”so…how has Alastor handled the news?” She asked.

You blinked “he’s very excited. He says he don’t care about the gender, but he’s taken to thinking it’ll be a girl” you giggled.

”haha a girl? Oh no you’re definitely having a boy darling” she laughed.

You titled your head in confusion.

Your mother smirked “Your belly is big and low and you’re not even halfway through your term, that means you’re having a boy. ”

She continued “Most men want a boy on the first go. A scrappy boy is the jewel of every man’s pride”

You rubbed your stomach, smiling “Well it don’t matter im sure hell adore the baby no matter what”

She hummed and picked up the newspaper that was on the table.

The headline read ‘fifth body found in canal’

”Such a shame the authorities can’t find killer. Those poor souls. This is the fifth body that’s been found and practically in your backyard. You really need to careful dear” she said grimacing.

You weren’t too worried. All the victims were random, but they weren’t pregnant women. “I don’t think the killer is slaying harmless pregnant women momma”

She shrugged “Can never be too sure dear”

———————————————————————————

Alastor whistled as he cleaned the kitchen. Bright red water filled the sink as he wronged the sponge. You would have a fit if you saw the state of your kitchen and Alastor couldn’t have an upset wife.

You had went to visit your mother, thinking it was time to tell the woman that the two of you were expecting. You had wanted him to come along, but he thought it would be better if the two of you spent some time together.

So he took the time to go hunting. It had been a while since he had a good hunt and he had a taste for deer meat.

Once the kitchen was spotless, he discarded what he didn’t need into a bag. He headed down to the cellar with the rest of the trash.

He tied the bag and reached for the other one.

Hauling it back to the kitchen, he turned on the radio to listen to some tunes as he prepared to cook. You should have been coming home in a few hours and he was sure you would be hungry. It was rather hot today, so instead of slaving too much over the stove he opted for a simple stew.

He pulled the meat out of the bag and began to cut it.

He pulled a pot from the cabinet and filled it with  onions, carrots, and a little water were added into the pot as he cleaned the meat.

As the pot boiled, he plopped the meat in a pan to cook it down.

The kitchen filled with the smell of herbs and meat as he worked.

He added some seasoning to the meat and transferred the chopped meat to the pot.

He turned the heat low and let it simmer.

He nodded in satisfaction and took a look at himself. Disgusting

He was covered in blood. He sighed and went upstairs.

Light red swirled down the drain. Alastor rolled his neck, a soft pop was heard and he sighed in relief.

Once finished in the shower, he gathered the dirty clothes and headed out back in the yard.

He waved to the passing neighbors as thee fire crackled, a pleasant smile on his face.

Once the fire died down, he headed back inside to check on the stew.

He stirred it and turned it off.

He fixed a cold sweet tea and took a seat at the dining table.

His mind wandered to you. He wondered how you were fairing in this heat. He was sure you were ready to come home and relax. Your mother was a handful.

Your pregnancy was coming along nicely.

You had rounded out and now you sported a big belly. His cock twitched in his pants. He couldn’t believe how insatiable  he had become since you had become pregnant. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

You had transformed beautifully. You always seemed to be glowing, though you swore it was sweat. You had become incredibly sensitive, your mood swings putting you both through the ringer.

You had voiced your concern about your image as you had filled out nicely, gaining weight from the baby you now carried. You couldn’t fit any of your usual form fitting outfits, opting for loose dresses.

Alastor reassured you that you looked beautiful no matter what. He enjoyed a little meat being on your bones. 

You were softer and he loved every minute of it.

His eyes traveled to the pot, he wondered if you had ate. He really wanted to see how you would react to the meal he prepared. While you love his cooking, the baby was picking, which resulted in you being sick a lot.

The buzz from the hunt still rippled through him as his lips curled in a smile.

yeeesss how would his little wife enjoy the meal he prepared for her?

He made a mental note to take out the trash later but for now, he waited for you to return home as he opened a book about parenting. 

He should ask you what color you wanted the nursery….

——————————————————————————-

Your mouth watered as you came through the door “What did you cook Al it smells really good”

Your husband chuckled as he closed the book and walked over to you. You were trying to beeline it to the kitchen, but your husband wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips to yours. He grinned as your stomach created a space between the two of you, running an affectionate hand over the bump “Well hello to you too my dear. How was your mother? I see the two of you went shopping” His eyes took in the amount of bags you brought back.

You huffed “Yea Ma would have bought out the entire store if I let her, i tell you I think she’s more happy about a grandbaby than when we got married”

Alastor coaxed you to the couch, smiling as you sighed as he massaged your aching back. He pressed soft kisses to your exposed shoulders “I didn’t know if you had ate already, so I made a stew. Let’s hope the baby like it. I read that warm foods were better than the ice cream you’ve been sneakng” he snickered as you pouted.

”Just relax a bit and Ill make you a bowl”

You smiled at him “I want crackers too!” You called after him.

Alastor returned with a steaming bowl of stew. It smells so good and your stomach growled in hunger. “I tried a different meat but I hope you like it my dear”

You thanked him and rolled your eyes as he picked up the spoon and held it to your mouth. You blew on it softly before chomping on the spoon.

Your tongue tingled as you savored the flavor. 

The meat was softer than you were use to, maybe pork or a different beef?

Whatever it was it was good!

”Mmmhmm this is so good. The texture of the meat is a bit off but its really good Al” you complimented.

He beamed at you, pearly whites glistening at you. “Im happy you like it and you didn’t throw it up im proud baby”

You quickly finished the meal and showed him everything your mother bought for the new arrival.

Alastor smiled in content as you happily showed him the baby wares; clothing, toys,and other gadgets. Seeing you so excited filled him with an unexplainable feeling. His hand caressed your belly as you ranted.

”Did you know that there’s a killer on the loose?” Your sudden question brought his attention back. Your face was filled with worry.

Alastor tensed, but relaxed “We had gotten a few reports down at the studio but no real leads. Why do you ask dear?”

You placed your hand over his that was on your bulging belly. “I-Im just concerned. I mean we do have a child on the way and i dont really feel safe walking the streets in this vulnerable condition. My mother suggested we move into the summer house.” You looked down, Alastor kissed your forehead “Im sure well be fine. Besides it seems the killer has a little mortals. No woman has been harmed. So dont fret my dear” he assured you. 

You sighed, he was right.  There was no need to worry.

“I would never let a soul hurt you” he whispered against your forehead.

You hummed and started giggling as he nipped at your ear “Al!!!”

You tried to wiggled away, but your husband softly pushed you back on the couch, being mindful of your belly.

”Now why dont I show you that I am more than capable hmm?” He grinned down at you.

—————————————————————————————————-

@nightshadelm@th3-st4r-gur1@southern-bayou-beau@yourdoorisunlocked@alishii@nettaw@simphornies@jellibean2018@purplecatsandhearts@missgurlsstuff@alastor-simp@alastorsgirl48@dasimp777@hazelfoureyes@thewinchestah@catherine1206@peachedtvs@luzzbuzz@markster666@preciousbabypeter@dennsfz@nanami1chu@chewbrry@smoky000@karolinda007-blog@alastorsaries@altruisticalastor@evedenn@alastors666creampie@siiv3r@yunimimii@popamolly @okay-babe@catmunist@wonderlandangelsposts@certifiedcrybabyyy @theangeliclibrarian@ilikemyteawithmilk@boney-horse@blubugg13@zombiesnips-blog@rulesareshadesofgrey@doggone-devil@amurtan@yuzurixx

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shun the Light - Ch 22 - A Gift

Masterlist

Author's Notes: So I'm thinking this will be the end of this particular series. NOT the end of Dante and Matteo's story!! Think of it like one book in an ongoing series. Next time I post I'll start a new series with a new title and new chapters continuing where this one leaves off. Otherwise it would just trail on indefinitely because I don't really have a set END end in sight for them. I never do, I like to always leave room for more. But I do have ideas for contained story arcs that I can group into series.

Also, re: the title - at first Shun the Light was in reference to literal light - the sun for Dante, the moon for Matteo. But as the story developed it also meant them rejecting any possible happiness for themselves out of fear/grief/trauma. And I think they've reached a place where they're letting a little light in now, so I want the next phase of their journey to grow from that.

Content Warnings: werewolf whump, poisoned, illness, fever, stomach ache, dehydration, dizziness, exhaustion, biting, drinking blood, comfort, caretaking

----

Matteo sleeps soundly through the day, but when night falls he grows restless. Overheated, he kicks off all the blankets and removes everything but his boxers. Soon he's awake, writhing with discomfort on the empty bed.

Poison still lingers in his system. It wages war on his body, and it is only because of his inhuman nature that he doesn't succumb to it. The thing that got him into this mess is the very thing keeping him alive.

Half-delirious, he tries to call for help but his throat and mouth are so dry. He props himself up on one arm and reaches for the glass of water on the nightstand. Moving makes him dizzy. The room blurs and turns upside down and Matteo drops heavily back onto the mattress. He muffles a groan into his pillow.

Please...

Matteo lifts his arm again and fumbles for the glass...only to knock it over. It shatters on the floor, spilling water everywhere. Shit. He groans again, rolling onto his back. His breathing is becoming erratic, his heart beating rapidly.

The sound brings Dante to his door. At first he taps politely and Matteo barely hears it. When Matteo doesn't respond, Dante cracks open the door.

"Matteo? Oh my god - what happened?"

The bed dips and Dante's hand settles on Matteo's heaving chest. Matteo tries to open his eyes to look at him but whenever he does the room spins. He tries to speak but is so parched he can only manage a hoarse whisper.

"D-don't feel good..."

Fingers brush his cheeks, wiping away tears. Then a cool hand is on his forehead. Matteo gasps; it's almost too cold, but he needs it so badly, he feels like he's boiling alive...

"Matteo? Matteo, look at me."

The words barely reach him through the haze of heat and pain. A sharp pang in his stomach makes him wail and claw at the sheets beneath him.

Suddenly Dante's presence is gone. Matteo whimpers and feels around for him but he isn't there.

"Don't leave," he pleads.

Hands hold his face and brush his sweaty hair from his forehead.

"Shh. It's okay. I'm getting more water. Can - can you look at me?"

Matteo forces his eyes open. Dante's face is so close he can see nothing else. His silver eyes start to glow.

"Breathe. Breathe deeply, slowly. That's it. Good. You're doing good."

A shudder runs through Matteo.

"Just breathe. That's all you need to do. I'll be right back."

Then he's gone again. Matteo's eyes flutter shut and he focuses on breathing in and out, in and out. His racing heart calms enough to pull him from the edge of a full blown panic attack.

Dante returns quickly with two glasses of water which he sets on the bedside table. He sits beside Matteo again and gets an arm around his shoulders to prop him up. Matteo tries to do some of the work but he can barely move without help. His limbs feel heavy and useless.

"You're burning up," Dante remarks as he manhandles Matteo into a sitting position. "Okay - drink."

He holds one of the glasses to Matteo's lips and cups the back of his neck to keep him steady. Matteo drinks slowly at first, then starts to chug the cool water down desperately.

When he's finished he has to take a moment to catch his breath. He lets his head droop onto Dante's shoulder, his hot forehead pressed against Dante's neck. He tries to form words, to thank him, but with his thirst solved now all his other pains come into sharp focus. The worst of them is his aching stomach - made all the worse by gnawing hunger. It's been over four days since his last meal.

"Ah - ow -"

"What? What hurts?"

"Stomach," Matteo mumbles. "Ngh!"

He starts gently rubbing his stomach to try to relieve some of the pain. Dante nudges his hand away and replaces it with his own, moving in light, slow circles.

Matteo clings to Dante's shirt, struggling to catch his breath. Suddenly he feels a pinch on his arm. Before he can put together what it is, he's out like a light.

-

Upon waking, Matteo feels heavy and weak...but no pain. It has been replaced with a pleasant numbness. His fever broke while he was out. A gentle breeze from the cracked window feels amazing on his clammy skin. It is nighttime again; he slept for almost twenty-four hours.

Something moves in his peripheral, startling him. Matteo tips his head to the side and opens his eyes.

As his vision clears Dante's form comes into focus. He's in an armchair with one leg crossed over the other, reading a book titled Common Poisonous Plants and Mushrooms of North America. In one hand he's holding a jar of blood. Every now and then he'll grimace and quickly take a sip from the jar.

Dante looks as healthy as ever, like no one ever laid a hand on him. His skin is smooth and almost human in coloration. His face is no longer gaunt nor his eyes hollow.

Matteo yawns and it draws Dante's attention away from his reading.

"Finally," Dante says, putting the book and drink aside. He sits at the edge of the bed. "I thought I might have put you into a coma."

Matteo lifts an arm and sees the fading puncture marks.

"You drank my blood."

"Yes. It was disgusting. I still can't get the taste out of my mouth." He feels Matteo's forehead. "But I think it helped."

"But won't you get sick?"

"So far I feel fine."

Even so, Matteo can't help feeling guilty.

"You didn't have to do that," he mumbles.

"I didn't know what else to do. You were in a lot of pain, looking it up would have taken too long."

"Well...I appreciate it." Matteo sighs. "I'm pathetic. First day back and you already have to be my nurse. I swear it's not usually this bad. The last few months have just been rough."

"Hm. Maybe I'm a curse," Dante says. His tone is light but there's an edge to it, like deep down he might really mean it.

Matteo nudges Dante's leg with his head. "No way. You somehow made it bearable. Usually I do this alone."

"That must be hard..." Dante traces over some of Matteo's scars. Matteo shivers and he pulls his hand away.

"No, wait - can you, um - "

Dante waits for him to finish. Matteo chews at his lip, embarrassed, wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

"Can you just..." He falters again. Instead of trying to talk, he takes Dante's hand and brings it to his cheek. "It feels nice."

"Oh." Dante looks surprised.

"You don't have to -"

"Scoot over."

Matteo does as he's asked and Dante sits on the bed beside him, leaning back against the headboard. Once he's settled Matteo leans his head against Dante's thigh and Dante cups his face with one hand.

"You're all sticky," he states bluntly. "I almost forgot about sweat."

"You don't sweat?"

"No. It's actually kind of a problem. I get overheated very easily."

"Huh. I never considered that. Guess I have a lot to learn about vampires."

Matteo falls silent, just thinking. Dante seems to understand that he needs the company, so he stays where he is. He picks up his book and continues reading, only removing his hand from Matteo's face to turn the page. Occasionally he'll even run fingers through Matteo's hair.

"Is this strange?" Matteo asks quietly after a while.

"Hm?" Dante lowers the book.

"Is it strange that this doesn't feel strange?"

"...what?"

"I just mean - we barely know each other. But I feel really comfortable right now. Does that make sense?"

"I think so."

Dante is quiet and Matteo hopes he didn't ruin what was such a nice moment, something he really really needed.

"Maybe it is strange," Dante replies. "But we're strange. I drank your blood before I even knew your name. Normal people don't meet that way."

Matteo lets out a relieved laugh. "Yeah, good point. Nothing about this is normal."

He looks up at Dante and sees something new and wonderful.

Dante is smiling.

It's not bright like the sun but bright like a candle. It is small but genuine, and it's just for him. Matteo is the first and only person to see him smile in almost fifty years. It feels like a gift.

Matteo closes his eyes and remains tucked against Dante's side. He hears the rustle of paper as Dante returns to his reading and his hand returns to Matteo's hair. Another gift.

I don't know how I'll ever thank you, Matteo thinks, far too content to break the silence.

But as long as I'm here I'm going to try.

[newstedz]

snowfall ☆ kirk hammett

okay so i'm relatively new to this but i just was so inspired by @mustainegf 's prompt that I just kept writing and writing and you get the idea. basic gist is that kirk calls you over to watch an old movie with him, its all fluff (timeframe is around 1987, post damage inc. tour.) also sorry for the incredibly generic title I literally cannot think of anything else

exhausted was an understatement.

you'd finally gotten a day off, and god was it needed. you barely had any energy to get out of bed to grab a snack, much less go outside. besides, it was freezing, and as much as you loved the idea of snow, it loses its charm when you're stuck waiting at the bus stop in the middle of a blizzard.  the day is yours, and ideally it would have been spent alone, tucked into bed. but then, you got a call. your stomach instantly dropped. you anticipated it'd be your boss, fabricating some asinine reason for you to appear at work today, even though nobody in their right mind would be out in the cold just to go to some shitty retail store. you pick up the phone with a groan. however, you're met with another familiar voice. one you weren't expecting, and suddenly, that dread in the pit of your stomach is replaced with butterflies.

"hey!" kirk beams from the other end of the phone. "sorry- did I wake you up?"

"no." you reply. granted, you weren't fully awake, but you didn't have the heart to make him think he may have been burdening you.

"oh.. okay!" he says, not seeming to need much convincing. "anyways, i just got this tape, you've gotta see this. it's some horror movie from like, the 50's or something. I got the tape  from this guy, he- I mean, that's not really important, I guess." he says, his enthusiasm dwindling as his voice grows more shy. "but I was wondering, I mean, i'd really like for you to come over and watch it with me. if you want." he offers sheepishly.

you can't help but smile. if it were anyone else, you'd consider making up some elaborate excuse about how you caught a stomach bug or fell ill after standing in the cold for too long. but you've known Kirk since you were kids, and you can't remember the last time you guys got to really hang out. between you working and his touring schedule, things just never seemed to work. it was something special to him, too. you knew how involved he was in tape trading, horror, and all that stuff you couldn't quite wrap your head around. but for him, you'd do it in a heartbeat. you gaze out the window. it's still snowing, but it had slowed to flurries. a thin layer of snow coats the grass and branches of the trees. you can't pass this up.

"sure."

"really? nice! so um. I'll see you." he exclaims, abruptly ending the call before you could even ask when he wanted you to be there. you sigh, getting up and heading for the shower.  one long bus ride later, you arrive at his door. as soon as you knock he rushes to the door, trying (and failing) to hide his excitement. "hey!" he grins, showing off his adorable, crooked smile. he steps aside allowing you to enter. "sorry its a mess in here. i just got back.." he murmurs. you cant help but laugh. "its whatever, man. i've seen worse from you." you reply, earning a chuckle from him. as soon as you two get settled, the snow gets heavy. very heavy. seems like you made it just in time. kirk seems to notice too. "looks like you're stuck with me."

_

the next hour is spent watching the movie, though it seems like it was only used as a catalyst for the two of you to play catch-up and for him to infodump trivia about the film. though you can't focus on the movie, at least not now. you're too focused on the way the light shines off his face and curls. the way he incessantly giggles when recalling a crazy road story. the snow is piling up outside, and it's only now that you realize he was trying to talk to you.

"hey, did you hear me?" he asks, tilting his head. he figured he was talking your ear off, though you really could listen to him all day.

"huh? i- no, you're good. i'm just.. cold." you attempt to wave it off unconvincingly, only leaving you to be met with more of his concerns. "are you okay? you were kinda just staring. are you bored? we can do something else, if you want." he murmurs as he gazes briefly at you, only to shift his focus to the TV screen. it could be the lighting, but you could've sworn you saw the lightest tinge of color come to his cheeks. 

"what about you?" you ask. the whole time you've been here, you've gotten the basic stuff, yeah. but it wasn't as personal as it used to be between the two of you. you used to stay up for hours talking about your worries, your goals. you were the first one he told about anything, and vice versa. but now it seemed like he was nervous just from being the same room with you. 

"what about me? i'm fine." he shrugs, now trying to shift the attention back to the movie.

"then why wont you look at me?" the question sorta just slips out. you didn't mean to pry, today was supposed to be lighthearted, but kirk's reaction seems to confirm your suspicions of there being something more, as he begins to stumble over his words. you place your hand gently over his. "you know you can talk to me, right?" as your eyes meet, his face goes red. "it's stupid." kirk murmurs again, though he knows he can't hide this from you anymore. "i feel like.. i'm running out of time. I mean- you're not always gonna be waiting around for me, and it's like whenever i'm gone, i.." he trails off, shifting his gaze away from you yet again. he takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I like you. like really like you, and I don't wanna drift off from you or mess anything up-" kirk rambles on, but you've heard enough. you laugh, suddenly scooting closer to him. all you give is an affectionate "shut up" before your lips meet. you move away to see his shocked expression, but he quickly swaps it for a huge, dorky grin as he pulls you in for another.

a few more shared kisses later, kirk pulls away, staring back at the window. he turns back to you. "y'know.. it's pretty nasty out there. maybe you should stay the night." he grins, not subtle in the slightest. you can't help but laugh and nod. suddenly, the room feels so much warmer.

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

why are you comparing you being depressed and suicidal to being trans that is messed up i mean ive followed you for a while and your nice but what is that

TRIGGER WARNING FOR SUICIDE AND DEPRESSION BECAUSE ANON BROUGHT IT UP READ CAREFULLY OR SCROLL AWAY

Let's take a look at what I actually said.

And it comes to neopronouns- you're basically saying that you aren't a person, or something to that effect, it depends on the person. So as for it making somone happy... I disagree with that because of what the Bible says. Jeremiah 17:9, The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it? Our feelings and emotions and flesh lie to us all the time. If you're a runner, you know that! Your body is screaming at you that this is the worst thing ever and you are going to die if you don't give up right now, but then a chase comes on and you're able to sprint at top speed for thirty seconds and go, 'Huh, I guess I was able to do that.' Our bodies and minds lie to us, all the time. That's a big thing about mental health too- there are some days that there is nothing I want to do more than pack up and leave my entire life behind without telling anyone and intentionally hurt them by this. And then once in a while there are worse days when suicidal ideation gets the better of me and I'm standing at the edge of a river not that far from my house and contemplating drowning myself. But I don't. Because my mind and body and feelings are deceptive. And I listen to God and what He says. Because what He says is always good, beautiful, and true. And far above me and anything about me. He is strong where I am weak. And I, in my flesh, apart from Him, am weak in everything. It's the same here. It's the same with every other sin. My feelings are weak and changeable, and my body and mind work together to decieve me into desiring things that are terrible for me. And same with every other person ever. So wanting to do something just because it feels good or makes you happy isn't a good reason for doing a lot of things. Just because being called eir/ehm would make you happy doesn't mean its a good reason. Just because getting drunk would make you happy doesn't mean its a good reason. Just because mastubating makes you happy doesn't mean its a good reason. And this comes to gay relationships too, or being trans, or no gender, or any of that. Just because it makes you feel good doesn't mean its a good reason.

The point I was making was that the heart is decietful above all things, and we can't trust it, or our feelings. A lot of the time if you 'feel' a certain way about something, it doesn't make it true. Literally could not have made it any clearer.

Also- I'm not depressed or suicidal. Those titles belong to actual victims of mental illness who are struggling and it is terrible. If I waved around my problems and claimed that they are just as bad and that my 'trauma' should be considered equal to theirs- that's totally wrong.

Years ago, I was in the beginning stages of depression. I had symptoms of depression. Ones that required help. But I did not have it 'bad enough' for it to be actually depression, and praise God for that. Inflating this to act like I'm worse off than I am as a cry for attention when I do not struggle with this anymore is wrong. I'm healed and a very happy person once more, because of His goodness.

Oh, and same with being suicidal. I have never been suicidal. There have been several specific points where I have struggled with suicidal ideation, and contemplating killing myself in that moment or that day or week- but as soon as I was reminded of the TRUTH in God, it left. And these points are very spotty and have lots of time between them. When you're suicidal, its something that sticks with you for an extended amount of time and is constantly plaguing you. There is a HUGE difference between having moments of suicidal ideation and actually being suicidal. You need different kinds of help. The thing about me maybe having a suicidal session for few hours once every few months to even a year, is it always comes from an event that has incredibly extreme emotions and because whatever happened trigged my way over-the-top-wants-to-kill-me-brain, which sent me down a spiral of the worst path possible.

But guess what? It's never worked. I'm still alive, aren't I? Praise God! Because I've never listened to my feelings. I've always waited until my mind could hear reason again and listened to God and His truth. And over time, its gotten easier and easier and quicker and quicker to wrestle my mind back into submission of the Father. Because I've gotten used to it and know how my mind works better, but also because I have gained new tools to help me. The last time I had a ideation moment (which, ironically, was like, a few days ago) it lasted less than an hour. Less than an hour of me thinking of why I should off myself. But then I used the tools I needed to use and came before God and He pulled me from the brink. And the time before that was like... four months ago. A looooong time! It gets longer each one. Praise God.

You might say that I used a way too extreme example and that I'm wrong. But the point is we should never let our emotions get the better of us, no matter how extreme they are- emotions are temporary but the glory of God is forever. This applies to everything ever.