#the guide of how to be perfectly capable of handling this

[porelarte]

Edwin Payne & The Cat King moodboard

[cailinsblog]

Lando’s Little Protector | Lando Norris

Lando Norris x reader

Masterlist

The morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of your shared bedroom, casting a warm glow on the cozy space. You stirred beneath the covers, blinking slowly as the sound of soft footsteps approached. Before you could even sit up, the familiar face of Lando Norris appeared beside the bed, holding a tray with breakfast.

“Good morning, love,” Lando said softly, his signature smile lighting up his face. He carefully set the tray on the bedside table, revealing a plate of toast, scrambled eggs, and a cup of tea. “I brought you breakfast in bed.”

You chuckled, sitting up against the headboard. “Lando, you didn’t have to do all this.”

“Of course I did,” he said, placing a pillow behind your back for extra support. “You’re carrying our baby now. You shouldn’t have to lift a finger.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “Lando, I’m only two months pregnant. I’m not helpless.”

He huffed, crossing his arms in mock seriousness. “Doesn’t matter. You’re growing a tiny human, Y/N. That’s a big deal. I want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his determination. Lando had always been protective, but ever since you told him you were expecting, he’d taken it to a whole new level. He insisted on doing everything for you—cooking, cleaning, even carrying the groceries, despite your protests that you were perfectly capable.

As you ate your breakfast, Lando sat beside you, watching you closely. “How are you feeling today? Any nausea? Headaches?”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “No, I’m fine, Lando. You don’t have to check on me every five minutes.”

“I’m just making sure,” he said, his tone serious. “I don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby.”

After breakfast, you got out of bed and stretched, ready to start the day. But as soon as you reached for the laundry basket, Lando appeared out of nowhere, gently taking it from your hands.

“Uh-uh, no way,” he said, carrying the basket out of the room. “I’ll do the laundry.”

“Lando, I can handle—”

“Nope,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You sit down and relax.”

You followed him to the living room, where he had set up a cozy spot on the couch with blankets and pillows. He guided you to sit down, then handed you the TV remote and a glass of water.

“There,” he said, satisfied. “Now, you stay here and watch something. I’ll handle everything else.”

You sighed, but a warm feeling spread through your chest. His protectiveness was endearing, even if it was a bit over the top. As you settled into the couch, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for how much he cared.

---

Later that afternoon, you decided to test just how protective Lando could be. While he was in the kitchen, you stood up and started tidying up the coffee table. As soon as Lando noticed, he rushed over, his eyes wide with concern.

“Y/N! What are you doing?” he exclaimed, gently taking the stack of magazines from your hands.

“I’m just cleaning up a bit,” you said innocently.

“No way,” he said, placing the magazines back on the table. “I’ll take care of that. You’re supposed to be resting.”

“Lando, I’m not made of glass,” you said, trying to suppress a laugh.

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but also determined. “I know, but I don’t want to take any chances. You mean everything to me, Y/N. I just want to keep you safe.”

Your heart melted at his words. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. “I know, Lando. And I love you for it. But you don’t have to do everything on your own. We’re in this together.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes softening. “I just want to make sure you and the baby are okay.”

“And we are,” you reassured him. “But if I need help, I promise I’ll ask. Deal?”

He sighed, nodding reluctantly. “Deal. But I’m still going to keep an eye on you.”

You laughed, pulling him into a hug. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

---

As the weeks went on, Lando continued to hover, but he also started to relax a bit. He still insisted on doing most of the household chores, but he allowed you to join him for walks and even let you help with small tasks, like folding laundry.

One evening, as you sat on the couch together, Lando placed a hand on your still-flat stomach, his eyes filled with wonder.

“I can’t believe there’s a little person in there,” he said softly.

“Me neither,” you said, resting your hand on top of his. “But I’m so excited to meet them.”

“Me too,” he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your stomach. “And I’m going to be the best dad ever. Just wait and see.”

You smiled, your heart full of love. “I already know you will be, Lando.”

As the months ahead stretched before you, you knew that with Lando by your side, everything was going to be just fine. His protectiveness might drive you a little crazy at times, but it was also a reminder of how deeply he loved you and your growing family. And that was more than enough.

Requesting and rebloging helps me a lot guys 💕

[starkeyisthelastname]

dealer!rafe asking his girl to marry him🥹🥹

it’s official. he’s ready to tie it down 🥹 💍

It was rare that Rafe let you do anything by yourself, but telling you he had some business to handle that day with Barry, he handed you a stack of cash and told you to spend the day pampering yourself. He told you to get your nails done, and pick out something to wear that night as he was taking you out to dinner. You had a closet full of things to wear, but weren’t going to argue when it came to shopping.

Rafe was a nervous fucking wreck all day as he watched the people he had hired to set everything up along the beach. He was going to do something that he had never wanted to do until he met you. He had spent months designing the perfect ring for you, his princess about to turn his queen. He never thought he would want to spend the rest of his life with just one person, always having been selfish. You were so different though in a way he couldn’t even explain.

Rafe stole a quick glance at his reflection in the mirror before inhaling deeply and making a slight adjustment to the gold Rolex adorning his wrist. Dressed in a perfectly fitting navy blue suit, a lavish gold chain draped across his neck, he exuded an air of confidence. After running a hand over his freshly trimmed buzzcut, he carefully placed the red box in the pocket of his dress pants, just as you emerged from the closet.

The moment his eyes locked onto you, he knew that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Your hair was styled flawlessly, your makeup adding a sparkle to your pretty blushed cheeks and glossy lips, and the dress you wore embraced your stunning curves in the same shade of blue as his suit, as if you had known what he was going to wear.

“Oh mama…” His voice cracked but quickly clearing his throat. “You look fucking amazing.” He said, watching as you walked towards him. You held up the diamond necklace for him to help fasten that held the initials R.C, little did you know that was going to be your last name soon.

“Where are we going for dinner?” You asked, eyes grazing over how had some he looked. You wondered what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up that night at his house, confessing to him that you could not stop thinking about him.

Rafe glanced over at you, a little startled as he glided the Range Rover down the island roads. He had been deep in thought, realizing he was about to propose to the girl he was in love with. Yes, love. Something he never thought he would be capable of getting, let alone quite literally landing in his lap one night. He swallowed back the nerves, and took a hand off the wheel to grab your fleshy thigh. “It’s a surprise baby.” He said, squeezing your smooth skin in his large palm.

You never argued with Rafe, and you did love surprises, so with that, you looked out the window at the serene view until your man spoke up again. “Can you do me a favorite my pretty girl? Close your eyes for me, yeah? We’re almost there.” He said, his voice low.

You were use to the occasional surprise by Rafe, so him asking you to close your eyes wasn’t something unusual. You trusted him with everything and sometimes that scared you since you didn’t know the depth of what Rafe did but you knew it wasn’t all good, despite him reassuring you he’s just making money. You filled lashes, fluttered close and you soon felt the car come to a stop and your door being opened.

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” You heard his voice, eyes still closed as you felt the straps being unfastened to the Dior heels you wore. You desperately wanted to open your eyes, but squeezed them shut tighter to not peek. You wondered why he would be taking your shoes off to go eat dinner? Nonetheless, he took your hand and helped you out.

“Now don’t open those pretty eyes for me mama until I tell you to.” Rafe said, voice gentle yet firm to let you know he was being serious.You nodded your head, letting him guide you along the way until your feet touched warm sand.

Rafe had never been so nervous in his entire life and he had done a lot of bad shit. From robberies and to something even more sinister, those things didn’t faze him. This was something entirely different, and something he never thought he would be doing. Slowly letting go of your hand, he took a deep breath and carefully got down on one knee. “Open your eyes for me.” He said, voice a little shaky.

As soon as your eyes opened, you were met with a sight that made your heart stop. The beautiful red rose petals surrounded down the path you had just walked, small candles lighting up the sand as the sun started to set along the Outer Banks. Your eyes then focused on the handsome man kneeled before you, biting his lower lip as he watched you look around the beautiful set up.

“I’ve told you so many times, that I don’t know what you’ve been doing to me. Got a grown man wanting to cry and shit.” Rafe said with a nervous laugh, knowing deep down as cold as he was that he was also quite sensitive, but he always pushed his vulnerability down.

You swallowed the building lump in your throat as he continued to talk, his thumbs grazing across your hands as he held them. “Being in a serious relationship was something I never wanted. I was only about making money, and spending it on myself. Then you walked in, and I had never seen a more beautiful girl in all my fucking life. I never expected to want to tie it down, and give someone my last name. You aren’t just beautiful baby, but you see something in me that I don’t even see. I’m not a good man, and I do a lot of bad shit..” He said, swallowing the guilt down. “You choose to see the good in me. Not the messed up, fucked up side that everyone else is afraid of.”

You watched as he removed one hand from yours, reaching down into the pocket of his navy blue slacks. He pulled the crimson box out that read Cartier in gold letters and slowly opened it, to reveal a stunning rock.

“Remember that night you came back to my house, and told me you couldn’t stop thinking about me. I asked if you wanted to be mine, and I meant that. I gotta make you my fucking wife mama, can I?” He asked, eyes glassy as he waited for your answer.

You were a little naive, and went into this not knowing how thing would turn out with you and Rafe. The first thing you ever heard about him was that he was an asshole, and yes you saw that. But you also saw a man that struggled with an internal battle, a man who provided you with everything you could ever imagine, a man who treated you like the most precious jewel that ever existed. A man that you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with without any question.

“Y-yes..” You whispered, tears spilling as you saw the white smile break out on his face. Something he didn’t do very often. He plucked the huge diamond from the velvet that it took place in and watched as he slid it on your ring finger with ease.

He slowly stood back up, pulling you possessively toward him as gripped you tightly. “I’m so fucking in love with you my future Mrs. Cameron.” He whispered against your lips, pulling you into a heated kiss.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

In what ways would you change Yuu (or would you get rid of them entirely)? The writing feels inconsistent on their place/importance. If they were just a conduit for the player to watch the events unfold that's one thing but in another story they are an active player.

I'd personally play into the beastamer aspect more. They are supposedly the reason why Ace, Deuce, and Grim were able to work together thus I'd want them to have more agency in making plans, giving orders, etc. Rook calls them Trickster but in what way (lol). The vagueness of being a self insert pains me. I'd also want to give them some magically infused weapon (or has a magestone embedded) just so they aren't fodder or sideline material.

Mmm… As much as I dislike the blank slate self-insertiness of Yuu (I’d prefer to read about an actually realized character), I wouldn’t want to get rid of them altogether. I think they’re important for the role they serve in the narrative even if in execution is inconsistent and not done well.

The problem with “changing” Yuu is that there has to be a certain level of ambiguity due to the design of the game. You cannot give them too much personality or you risk alienating the audience that likes to project or self-insert. There’s also a limit to how much uniqueness a mobile game can lend its players characters; the format isn’t exactly known for having super in-depth player arcs, it’s known for their colorful casts of rollable characters. The devs have to toe that line carefully, not to mention juggle Yuu’s participation with letting the other characters shine. It is for this reason that I won’t be doing a total overhaul of Yuu or just deciding “give them a personality!” as what I’d change about them. Rather, I’ll be proposing alterations while thinking like a dev (ie preserving the current story and as much of the self-insertiness as I can while also trying to give Yuu more to do/say).

Now Yuu, being the outsider to this world, is perfectly poised to have others dump exposition on them. This serves the dual purpose of being able to diegetically explain things to the player. (We wouldn’t get this advantage if the player character was changed to be like… a Twisted Wonderland resident; you could explain some magic things to a layman, but a resident wouldn’t need more common knowledge like country names exposited to them. Were this the case, we’d need an additional excuse for Crowley to take in a native.) It’s also convenient to have them be the “eyes” for the player to experience the world through, since Yuu is able to conveniently be present for most major main story events. It essentially makes them a human-shaped video camera.

I’ve often heard people suggest that if we need a POV character, why not go with Grim since he basically serves the same purpose now anyway. My answer to that is: Grim is also an arrogant asshole who picks fights, just the same as any other NRC student. If Grim were the player character, he wouldn’t be contributing much or helping to guide the other students learn to get along. We need Yuu here to be that driving force for change because Grim simply isn’t capable of it when he’s instigating himself half of the time.

A smaller thing about Yuu that I love is the idea of them being the school photographer! (This is something that is shown in the second anniversary animated video too!) It gives us context for the cards we roll and it implies that Yuu is the one documenting these precious memories. I want Yuu to stay if only for this reason.

Personally, I wouldn’t make Yuu a combatant. This is antithetical to their role and I feel would instead work against them (or at least create a scenario where Yuu has to have some level of battle prowess; this impedes on the self-insert nature of them). Sticking a magic item in their hand makes little difference since they most likely wouldn’t know how to handle it in the moment. (Nor would a magicless human even be able to use some of them; for example, a magestone is completely useless to them.) A magicless human with no combat experience is just another liability to account for, not to mention it actively puts them in harm’s way. It might be cool in theory, but I think in practice it goes against the very concept of Yuu. They’re meant to be here to show that there is “another way” to the NRC students—that violence doesn’t solve all your problems, proof that you don’t need to be a powerful being to “change” others or the world around them. They’re supposed to be underestimated and not seen as much of a “real” fighter, and they’re supposed to prove those notions wrong by demonstrating their worth via other avenues. In this “the weak obey the strong” school, Yuu has to be the one to show them that strength comes in forms that are NOT magic power or battle prowess.

I feel that Yuu works best on the sidelines as a supporter and strategist. Strategy is, after all, half of the battle, and it’s a part that people tend to overlook in favor of the flashier fighters. But strategy is crucial and it can turn the tide against a formidable foe (as we see in the prologue)!! I think this is something the NRC students need to be made more aware of too, so Yuu should stay as the strategist; they just have to be given more opportunities to show off those skills!

With all of that being said, here is what I would change about Yuu:

Drop the beast tamer thing. It gets mentioned prominently like once in the prologue and then never becomes truly relevant. Maybe it’ll become important when it comes to taking down OB Grim, but that will be SO late in the main story that the payoff doesn’t seem worth it. There are no examples of Yuu’s beast taming skills ever being used in the main story, so the whole “oh you have the makings of a beast tamer” thing is so useless. If you really want to keep it, then let Yuu’s innate talent/skills for beast taming help them out at least once per main story book. This means I’d want to see instances of Yuu getting other creatures (ie not just Grim) to help them out.

Allow Yuu the agency to act on their own when it comes to finding a way back to their own world. Going home is so often relegated to a single line or a few sentences and then not addressed again until next book. Have Yuu take initiative instead of waiting around for updates from Crowley. They should go out and ask questions, investigate on their own, etc. Maybe have them get involved in each book’s conflict because they happen to get mixed up in it while conducting research instead of being TOLD to go and fix a problem. Book 6 marks the only real time I can think of Yuu making a drastic decision against Crowley’s advice. It puts them at great risk, and that’s something they’re willing to take for the sake of saving their friends. We need more moments like this throughout the rest of the story. However, Yuu won’t be allowed to do whatever they want unrestricted because 1) it falls out of the scope of a mobile game title and 2) we want to largely retain the capacity to self-insert. So when I say give Yuu more agency to act, I mean it ONLY in the sense of being more proactive in their efforts to get home.

Add a short comment or two from other characters depending on which dialogue options are picked for Yuu. It would be too ambitious to incorporate a full-on branching storyline or strong “choose your own adventure” elements, but at least have the other characters consistently comment on whatever brief dialogue option Yuu has rather than ignoring them 90% of the time. This wouldn’t alter the story in any way but it sure would be nice to have a little more flavor text and more of Yuu actually being acknowledged as present.

Yuu should fully commit to being a planner and strategist. We get to see this aspect of Yuu like once or twice in the prologue (when they tell Grim where to spit fire at the ghosts/planning how to beat the Phantom in the mines) and then are left to extrapolate this to the rest of the game. Maybe you can argue they figured out Azul’s scheme in book 3 too, but this isn’t good enough. If you’re going to set up the idea, then have consistent segments in each book that reinforces that idea. Have Yuu brainstorm ways to jailbreak in book 4, have Yuu be perceptive enough to notice that Malleus isn’t feeling great in book 7 (only for Malleus to brush them off/insist he has a solution), etc.

Have a short story segment that explains how or why Yuu earns their nickname “Trickster” from Rook. We got this with Floyd, so the other known nicknamer should reveal this, especially since the name “Trickster” implies intelligence and cunning. Yuu should have an opportunity to demonstrate this (in book 5 maybe?), which earns them Rook’s respect and the new title. This should also be informed by other parts where Yuu shows how smart they can be.

More time bonding with Grim. I say Grim specifically because I commonly see him as a hated character in part because of how he “steals lines/time” away from Yuu. (Adeuce and Malleus are fine as they are because the former already stick up for/help Yuu out and the latter is meant to stay mysterious until late in the main story.) This means that if you don’t already like Grim, the whole “Yuu chases them to Styx HQ to save Grim” plot point in book 6 rings hollow. To truly build a bond with Grim, please give us moments prior to book 6 that show how much they care for one another and are linked to each other as partners. Times when Grim causes inconveniences for Yuu don’t count. Give me instances of them cuddling at night or talking to each other about their hopes and dreams or whatever. This would establish the value that Grim sees in Yuu, as well as the value that Yuu sees in Grim. It makes it more believable that Grim would cry when he’s alone or realizes he hurt his partner, and that Yuu would defy the headmaster’s advice and put themselves at risk to save Grim.

Better incorporate the ghost camera and its usage in the main story. The ghost camera provides an in-universe explanation for gaming meta (ie the card illustrations); in the main story, it’s hardly ever mentioned save for its introduction in the prologue and when Yuu takes a picture of Mickey with it. What should happen instead is Yuu will take a picture of the characters involved in that chapter. This way, it’s a physical reminder of the time everyone spent together and the bonds they’ve developed. It further strengthens the idea of the students learning to get along and Yuu being there to facilitate that while also keeping the ghost camera relevant.

More time where Yuu actually bonds with/“changes” the other characters. One huge gripe I have with the main story is that we’re TOLD that Yuu’s presence changes and improves the boys for the better, that they teach them how to get along. Very little of the actual main story supports this (outside of the prologue). At best, Yuu has a very short chat with some of the OB boys at the end of their respective book. Yuu should have a little more time in this regard. I don’t know, maybe Idia is still struggling to socialize when he comes over to play video games at Ramshackle so Yuu has to gently encourage him to give it a try or says something to help include him in the conversation. Little things like that! Keep the strong interactions the other characters have in changing the OB boys (like Trey being the one to rush to Riddle’s side, the twins teasing Azul, etc.), but have Yuu help facilitate them opening up emotionally and being vulnerable with one another.

This last point is debatable (I keep changing my mind about it), but possibly make a point of showing how Yuu is adjusting to this new world. This honestly might mess with the self-insert aspect (which is why I debated to leave this out), but I also feel like it might be interesting to reinforce Yuu’s desire to go home h demonstrating homesickness or issues with settling into Twisted Wonderland.

To summarize, the changes I’d make largely involve making TWST commit to briefly mentioned details (that they largely don’t follow through on) and making Yuu actually do a little more to warrant crediting them with resolving issues + fostering friendships. A lot of the problems that exist now are due to promising a lot but then poorly executing on what was promised.

[loganwritesprobably]

When You're In Danger (Straw Hats P2)

Feat. Nami, Robin and Jinbei

Content/warnings: Reader is GN, canon-typical violence referenced, injuries referenced

Nami is a coward and she knows it

Rarely does she rush head first into danger

But she'd do it for you

You're her most prized treasure, and she'll be damned if anyone things she'll let you get hurt

She can't do much damage herself, so she'd prefer to stay closeby so the two of you can back each other up

If the two of you are separated, and she sees or hears that you're in trouble, it'll give her a new surge of determination

She may cross the battlefield screaming, but she'll do it to get to you

Nami knows she might not be able to save you, but she can be there to at least lessen the hurt you suffer

Rather than showing she guilty that she couldn't help you, Nami would lash out at the stronger crew members because they should've helped

Even though she knows you don't normally need the help

If you got hurt because you were protecting her though

That'd devastate her

She hates that she isn't as strong as the others, and it would never hurt more than in that moment

Robin is a powerhouse in her own right

She can more than handle herself in a fight

But diverting attention is dangerous

She will focus on her own fight first and foremost, even if you're in danger

She can't help you if she ends up hurt because she was careless

Once her own fight is over, she'll be at your side instantly

She'll insert herself into your fight without waiting for permission, because she knows at that point for sure if she's needed

She'll protect you first, then deal with your attacker second

You are capable, and she always makes sure to explain that she doesn't involve herself because she thinks otherwise - she just wants you to be safe

If someone hurt you, they'd see no mercy from the Devil Child

She'd be the one to carry you to Chopper, even if you were perfectly capable of walking

She'd remain by your side, reading aloud, until you were well again

We've seen already what Jinbei will do to defend someone he thinks deserves it

You're no different

He'll dive directly into danger if it means he can keep you safe

He knows that you're capable, but you're also both aware that he is more capable, and so him coming to your defence isn't an insult

It's a sign of how much he cares

9/10 times if Jinbei comes to your defence, you won't get so much as a scratch

But that one in ten creates hell to pay

He's been through a lot in his life, but he cares for you more than most, and so you getting hurt is way up there on the list of things that piss him off

He's able to dispatch whoever was causing you harm immediately, and then check on you

Before he takes you anywhere, he'll check in and ask how you're feeling. He's calm and collected while he gathers the information he needs from you

Only then would he take you to be seen by Chopper

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf

[gogogodzilla]

day 9, size difference

paladin danse x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, from danse's pov, mentions of riding & blowjobs, no dialogue, mentions of reader's breasts kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

Danse was a hulking figure, and he knew that. His power armor helped, of course, but even out of it, he towered over his peers. He towered over you. 

You stood tall in your own ways. You were a leader in every sense of the word. When you defended him against Arthur’s rage, he swore you were eight feet tall. 

Danse loved how small you were, physically, compared to him. It was cliché, but he loved to hold your hand against his, taking in the difference. He also loved the difference in a more selfish way. His size made him feel like he could protect you, even if you were perfectly capable of handling yourself. You’d proven that time and time again. 

In a more intimate setting, he loved towering over you and bending your smaller frame however he liked. His favorite was to have you under him, legs pushed up so they were nearly over his shoulders, taking his thick cock like you were made for him.

He loved watching you squirm as he pushed inside you. You were so good for him. He was nearly drooling as your tight hole swallowed him inch by stimulating inch. Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly fit another centimeter inside you, he was buried completely. He was gentle, most of the time. He knew he had to be and he didn’t want to hurt you. Other times, however, he’d lose himself and get so wrapped up inside you that he couldn’t contain himself. He’d bury himself to the hilt over and over again, the tip of his length brushing up against that sensitive spot over and over again. 

He’d apologize profusely when he saw you wincing as you rose from bed. He wasn’t a monster, and beneath his rough exterior, he cared for you. It’d gnaw at him for ages afterward, and he’d be terrified to touch you. You’d coax him back into your bed when you were ready and convince him that you’d speak up if you were hurting. 

In your not-so-rare moments of boldness, he loved when you rode him. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you slowly sunk down his cock, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you focused on taking every single inch of him. Large hands palmed your breasts as you began bouncing up and down on his cock. When your thrusts became sloppy or you slowed down, he was quick to grab your hips and rut into you from below. He loved seeing you become a whining, cockdrunk mess as he took what he needed. If he was feeling particularly nice, he’d grab the globes of your ass and help guide you up and down on his cock. He loved watching your tits bounce as you leaned back and let him move your body how he wanted. 

He loved it when you jerked him off, your small hand barely wrapping around his length as you stroked him. You quickly made up for it by using both hands to milk his cock or using one hand to stroke what your mouth couldn’t reach. Fuck, he loved that mouth of yours. He loved the way you gagged around him when you tried to take all of him. Trying to be so good for him. 

You were always good for him, in any way he could get you. He thanked whatever omnipotent being was out there that he was lucky enough to spend even a second with you. He loved enveloping you in his arms when he held you at night. He loved the way it felt like he was keeping you safe in a world that was hell-bent on killing you at any waking moment. He loved that he could provide that solace for you.

[cryptidsmagick]

Collecting Familiar Spirits

Sometimes, a witch can't afford a pet, or their pet just isn't a familiar. It happens—there's no guarantee that every cat you encounter will have the magic touch. Or they don't have the heart to face the possibility of their beloved companion passing away. That's perfectly okay! Familiar Spirits are always an option.

A Familiar Spirit is a spirit, normally taking the form of an animal, that assists you in spells and rituals. They are not your spirit guide and should not be mistaken as such.

Familiar spirits can be caught on the Astral Plane or purchased from a shop. When purchasing them, you might find that the spirit is bonded to a vessel, normally a crystal, wood carving, or other charm. That's because this serves as the spirit's anchor to keep it with you.

It's important to note that familiar spirits are incredibly intelligent, and some are even capable of speech. When catching one, you should always ask if it wants to be a familiar, as it's bonded to the vessel until it's either released or the vessel is permanently damaged, ending the contract.

Catching a familiar spirit requires the ability to enter the Astral Plane safely and effectively. Once you are on the astral plane, you are to search. Keeping your intention in mind will help guide you. You might not find one on your first voyage, and that is alright.

Once you find a familiar spirit and gain its consent, you might not have a vessel immediately at hand. There's two things you can do:

Use a temporary vessel. Like a stuffed animal (plushies and dolls can be permanent vessels if you wish!) or other items.

Place an astral anchor in the spot you found the familiar spirit. This is an item or energy you visualize to easily come back later.

Some witches are naturally adept at working with spirits and can imbue the spirit into an object. Others might need a little help from a ritual or spell. Regardless of your personal method, the goal is the same—guide the spirit into an object.

Now that you've guided the spirit into the object, you can have them assist you in your craft, or you can gift or sell the charm to another witch. However, if you intend on selling these charms, please make the familiar spirit aware of this. Some will be happy to help you earn funds to make your way in life, others will be infuriated, and some might view it as a violation of your contract (and potentially refuse to work with whoever purchased the charm). In the case of the latter, this can cause some issues for your shop as refunds may be demanded for the "dud."

Evidently, as some people sell them, you can catch more than one! You can have multiple spirits help you in spells, which is good for people with less mana or difficulty using magick.

Other Tips

Sometimes, the familiar spirit chooses you, you don't find it. This happens with corporal familiars too. When the familiar chooses you, it will be yours, and only yours. They aren't exchangable.

Familiar spirits, rarely, are not always animals. Fairies and demons and other creatures might offer to be your familiar. In the case of specific beings, you have to be careful and have knowledge working with them. Especially to avoid being disrespectful to them. If it's more than you can chew, decline.

You should always clearly write out your contract/agreement. If you're selling it, give the buyer a copy. Keep a copy for yourself in case they return it, or in the case they release it and the familiar comes back to you, you know how to handle it.

Releasing the familiar can include a spell or none at all. It depends on the witch. If you're selling a familiar spirit, I recommend writing the spell down clearly and including this alongside the contract for the buyer to have at hand. After releasing your familiar, cleansing the vessel may not be possible. Sometimes it becomes too tainted with energy. In this case, burn or bury it.

[barfygutcheck]

pizza-logged

/uhh to be perfectly honest this is just pure kink and little else. it involves a stethoscope and some pizza overload. enjoy/

Sawyer was knocked out cold, splayed across the couch in the typical position that followed an indulgent meal. Her legs extended past the edge, one arm loosely covering her eyes while the other dangled over the side. The coffee table bore witness to her indulgence, cluttered with an empty pizza box from Sawyer’s favorite place in Kingston, discarded greasy napkins, and the subtle scent of pepperoni still hanging in the atmosphere.

Jackie nestled up against her girlfriend, one hand gently resting on Sawyer’s broad chest. Instances like this left Jackie unsure of what to do with herself. Sawyer had emerged from football practice “starved,” and Jackie, ever the supportive girlfriend, had urged her to eat… perhaps driven by a desire to see Sawyer grow full. Part of her reasoning was practical: to recover adequately, Sawyer needed to consume sufficient calorie intake. The other part?

Slightly adjusting her position, Jackie let her head rest on Sawyer’s shoulder, her gaze instinctively falling on Sawyer’s belly: markedly swollen, her muscles slack, the fabric of her shirt pulled tight.

With a moment of pause, Jackie felt equal parts self-conscious and concerned before she allowed her hand to settle directly on the expanse of Sawyer’s abdomen, where the pizza had settled, mindful of how stuffed Sawyer must feel. The heat of her skin was striking against the distension.

Normally, if Sawyer was awake, Jackie wouldn’t even get this close. Sawyer operated in two distinct modes: boasting about her food consumption or lamenting the consequences of her indulgence. In this instance, it was clear that she had reached her limit and would be grappling with a stomachache if she were conscious. However, she was far from awake. So, Jackie indulged her curiosity, tracing circles across Sawyer’s expanded stomach, her fingertips exploring the surface. As she applied gentle pressure, she could sense the tightness of the bloating — much like a balloon blown up to its near-bursting point.

She could practically imagine the digestive process occurring in her girlfriend’s abdomen; the stomach walls contracting in a rhythmic fashion, guiding the hefty mass of food toward the intestines. Given the sheer bulk of cheese and dough, this process was inevitably sluggish and inefficient.

No wonder Sawyer was out cold. Her head lolled to the side, mouth slightly open, completely knocked out from her food coma.

Jackie couldn’t help but feel aroused.

Just as she was settling deeper into the couch, she heard it — this faint gurgling sound. It was so soft at first that she thought she might’ve imagined it. But then it came again, a quiet, low rumble that seemed to echo from Sawyer’s belly. Jackie lifted her head slightly, peering down at Sawyer’s stomach again.

“Huh,” Jackie murmured, raising an eyebrow. “Is that your stomach, babe?” Of course, Sawyer couldn’t respond.

Jackie bit her lip.

The gurgling continued, a gentle but persistent noise that made her own stomach twist with a vague sense of unease.

Jackie’s medical training took over, and though she knew it was important not to jump to conclusions — Sawyer was a big girl, more than capable of handling a simple stomachache — her concern deepened with each passing moment. The sounds from Sawyer’s stomach were growing harder to ignore, and Jackie couldn’t shake the feeling that it might be more than just a typical food overload. She didn’t want to deal with chunks of half-digested pizza all over the couch, or worse, risk Sawyer waking up in agony.

Jackie shifted slightly, careful not to wake Sawyer. Her hand slid off Sully’s chest as she reached over to the coffee table where her stethoscope lay. She always kept it close, a habit from long nights of studying.

 Sawyer would probably give her so much grief if she knew Jackie was taking this medical approach, but since Sawyer was completely out, Jackie figured there was no harm.

“Alright, don’t hate me for this,” Jackie whispered as if Sawyer could hear her. She gently lifted Sawyer’s shirt, revealing her toned stomach, now slightly distended from all that pizza. Pronounced was one word. Swollen was another. Jackie had helped with a few slices; two and a half, precisely because she ate like a bird.

Sawyer had taken care of the rest, but one would have been able to tell just from the looks of her stomach.

Jackie placed the stethoscope’s diaphragm against Sawyer’s warm skin and pressed her ear to the other end.

The soft growling noises she had heard earlier were much louder now. Jackie’s brows knitted together as she listened intently. It wasn’t just normal digestion but rather intense bubbling, sloshing, and churning. Periodically, a sharp, almost groaning noise emerged, as if Sawyer’s stomach was actively protesting the overwhelming volume of food it had been tasked to manage. The sounds weren’t alarming in a medical emergency kind of way, but they certainly weren’t… pleasant. Her stomach could hardly grapple with the excess.

“Jesus, Sully, what did I get you into?” Jackie muttered under her breath, pulling the stethoscope away for a moment. She frowned, her hand resting lightly on Sawyer’s stomach. It was warm to the touch, but not unusually so. Still, with the way it was rumbling and shifting beneath her fingers, Jackie had a feeling Sawyer was going to wake up in for a rough time.

Sawyer shifted slightly, her face scrunching up in discomfort, but she didn’t wake.

Jackie felt a pang of guilt. She’d encouraged Sawyer to eat the entire pizza, and now her stomach was working overtime to deal with it. Jackie pressed the stethoscope back to Sawyer’s belly, listening again. The sounds were just as unsettling — a mix of liquid sloshing and air moving around in ways that didn’t seem like they should be. Under normal circumstances, the sounds would be rhythmic but somewhat gentle; occasional burbles, gushing as digestion kicked in. However, Jackie picked up prolonged periods of silence followed by harsh gurgling and strained noises, indicative of a cramped digestive tract.

Perhaps nausea was building up.

Sawyer’s body jerked slightly, a sudden hiccup escaping her lips. The hiccup was so forceful it jostled her entire body, and Jackie’s hand felt the sloshing inside Sawyer’s belly. The sound was unmistakable — a thick noise that made Jackie’s eyes briefly widen. She froze, listening as another hiccup followed, this one even louder.

Jackie leaned back with a sigh, pulling the stethoscope from her ears and setting it aside. There wasn’t much she could do now except wait for Sawyer to wake up and see how she felt. Jackie just hoped she wouldn’t feel too awful.

Her gaze softened as she looked at Sawyer’s peaceful face, her breathing steady despite the clear turmoil happening in her gut.

The growling from Sully’s stomach continued, but Jackie was at least reassured that nothing serious seemed to be happening. It was just a classic case of overeating.

Jackie leaned her head against Sawyer’s shoulder, letting the gentle rise and fall of Sawyer’s chest calm her own nerves. For now, all Jackie could do was wait and make sure Sawyer didn’t wake up in too much pain. After all, it wasn’t every day your girlfriend devoured an entire pizza and then passed out like a rock.

Jackie chuckled softly, resting her hand on Sawyer’s warm stomach again, feeling the faint vibrations of her digestive system working overtime. Sully might grumble when she woke up, but Jackie would be there, ready to help.

[izumkay]

~KNOTTED DESIRES~ |CH-3|

—SATORU GOJO

♡Pairing- SatoruGojo×TeacherFem!Reader(main), Reader×Nanami.

♡Summary- As a new teacher, you step into the prestigious halls of a modern high school, ready to guide and inspire your students. But your plans take an unexpected turn when Satoru Gojo, a charismatic and self-assured senior, makes a move on you, challenging your boundaries and professional. What starts as a clash of personalities quickly evolves into a forbidden connection, leaving you both caught in a whirlwind of desires.

Gerne/Tags- Age difference(8 years), Student-Teacher relationship, Satoru is obsessed over you, high school setting, Love triangle, complicated relationship, happy ending.

Warnings!- MDNI. Explicit sexual content, angst, mentions of death, blood, fluff, strong language, hurt/comfort.

Wc- 6.5k

Previous chapter!

The week passed in a blur of lectures, grading, and stolen moments of quiet frustration. Despite your best efforts to keep things professional, Gojo’s antics were relentless. Every smirk, every sly comment, every lingering glance—it all left you questioning how to handle him.

Now, it was Friday afternoon, and you were tidying up the classroom after the final bell rang. Most students had already cleared out, but, of course, there was one who lingered.

"Miss," came that familiar, infuriatingly playful voice.

You didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was. "What do you need, Gojo?" you asked, your tone laced with exhaustion as you continued organizing the papers on your desk.

"I was serious about needing help in math, you know," he said, his voice closer now.

You turned, meeting his bright, mischievous gaze. He was leaning casually against one of the desks, his bag slung lazily over his shoulder.

"You’re perfectly capable of understanding the material on your own," you replied firmly. "You just don’t try."

Gojo tilted his head, a mock look of hurt crossing his face. "Ouch. That’s harsh, Miss. You’re supposed to believe in your students."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Gojo, I don’t have time for this. If you’re not going to take your education seriously, that’s on you."

"Who said I wasn’t serious?" he countered, his tone softening. "Look, I get it—I joke around a lot. But I really am falling behind. You’re a great teacher, and I think I’d do better with one-on-one help."

His sudden sincerity caught you off guard. You stared at him, searching his expression for any sign of his usual teasing. But he looked… earnest.

"Are you asking me to tutor you?" you asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," he said, shrugging like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Unless you’re too busy for your favorite student."

You frowned, unsure if you were making a mistake. But then you thought about your role as a teacher. If he truly needed help, wasn’t it your job to guide him?

After a long pause, you finally said, "Fine. I’ll tutor you. But this is strictly professional, Gojo. No games, no jokes."

His grin returned, brighter than ever. "Deal. When do we start?"

You regretted your decision almost immediately. The moment the word “fine” left your lips, Gojo’s grin widened to an infuriating degree.

"How about tonight?" he asked casually, as if he hadn’t just thrown your entire weekend into chaos.

"Tonight?" you repeated, incredulous. "That’s not happening. I have plans."

He tilted his head, his grin turning sly. "Plans, huh? What kind of plans? A hot date, maybe?"

You shot him a sharp glare. "Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’m grading papers."

"Sounds thrilling," he said with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "But seriously, Miss, let’s get started soon. Midterms aren’t that far off, and I’m in desperate need of your genius."

"Monday," you said firmly. "After school. I’ll tutor you for an hour in the library."

Gojo pouted, his lower lip jutting out slightly. "The library? That’s so boring."

You crossed your arms. "Then I suggest you find someone else to tutor you."

"Fine, fine," he relented, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "The library it is. But just so you know, Miss, you’re going to regret how much time you spend with me. I’m irresistible."

"Shut up," you said, already turning back to your desk.

As he sauntered out of the classroom, you sighed heavily, wondering what you’d just gotten yourself into.

—♪°.•✧•.°♪—

♡The First Tutoring Session♡

Monday arrived faster than you expected. After the last bell, you headed to the library, your bag heavy with lesson plans and materials you’d prepared for Gojo.

He was already there, sprawled in a chair like he owned the place. His tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and his ever-present smirk greeted you as you approached.

"Right on time," he said, kicking a chair out for you with his foot.

You ignored his casual tone, setting your materials on the table. "We’re here to work, Gojo. No distractions."

"Of course, Miss," he said, feigning innocence.

For the first twenty minutes, he actually seemed to be trying. He followed along as you explained equations, scribbled notes in his notebook, and asked questions that—shockingly—weren’t sarcastic.

But then the smirk returned.

"You’re really good at this," he said, leaning closer. "Ever think about tutoring full-time? You could make a killing."

"Focus, Gojo," you said, pointing to the problem on the page.

"I am focusing," he said smoothly, his voice dropping slightly. "Just not on the math."

You froze, feeling heat creep up your neck.

"Do you ever stop?" you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Not when it’s this fun," he replied, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin.

You exhaled sharply, determined not to let him get under your skin. This was going to be a long semester.

You could feel the occasional glances of students from nearby tables, their whispers barely audible but still enough to make you aware of their curiosity. It wasn’t hard to guess why. Tutoring Satoru Gojo, of all people, was bound to attract attention.

His reputation preceded him—not just as the loud, cocky student who dominated every social circle, but also as the one person everyone seemed to orbit around. Whether it was his natural charisma, his infamous antics, or just his good looks, he had a presence that was impossible to ignore.

And now, here you were, sitting across from him, trying to get him to focus on basic algebra while he looked far too amused for someone supposedly "desperate" for help.

"Do you always attract this much attention?" you muttered under your breath, your eyes briefly darting toward a group of students pretending not to watch.

Gojo followed your gaze, then turned back to you with a lazy grin. "Jealous, Miss? Don’t worry, you’re the only one I’m paying attention to right now."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "I’m not jealous. I’m just wondering if you ever take anything seriously."

"I take you seriously," he said smoothly, leaning forward slightly.

Your breath caught for a moment, but you quickly recovered, narrowing your eyes at him. "Focus, Gojo. This isn’t a game."

He chuckled, sitting back in his chair as if you’d just told the funniest joke. "You’re so serious, Miss. But don’t worry, I’ll make this worth your time."

You didn’t respond, instead pointing to the next problem on the page. "Solve this one. And no shortcuts."

For once, he didn’t argue. But as he bent over the page, pencil in hand, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a very fine line with him—a line he seemed determined to blur.

As you leaned over to check his work, you became acutely aware of how close he was sitting. His thigh brushed against yours under the table, sending a jolt through you that you immediately tried to dismiss. The faint heat radiating from him was impossible to ignore, and the subtle scent of his cologne—clean and sharp—lingered in the air between you.

No. Absolutely not.

You straightened abruptly, shaking off the intrusive thoughts. Focus. You’re his teacher, for crying out loud.

"You okay, Miss?" Gojo’s voice was laced with amusement, his eyes glinting with something that told you he’d noticed your sudden flustered state.

"Fine," you said briskly, your tone sharper than you intended. "Just concentrate on the problem, Gojo."

He smirked, leaning slightly closer as if to test your resolve. "You seem a little distracted, though. Should I be the one tutoring you instead?"

You shot him a pointed look, your professionalism barely holding steady. "If you don’t finish this equation in the next five minutes, I’m leaving."

His grin widened, but he picked up his pencil again, finally turning his attention back to the worksheet. Yet, even as he worked, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was playing a completely different game—and you were already losing.

You tried to keep your gaze on the paper in front of you, focusing on the neat equations you’d written to guide him. But every time he shifted, his leg brushed against yours again—light, fleeting, but impossible to ignore.

"You’re awfully quiet," he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

"I’m waiting for you to finish the problem," you replied curtly, refusing to look up.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a strange shiver down your spine. "You sure that’s all you’re thinking about?"

You froze for half a second before quickly masking it, pretending to flip through your notes. "Do you always talk this much during tutoring sessions?"

"Only when it’s fun," he said smoothly. "And you, Miss, are very fun to talk to."

You finally looked up, fixing him with a glare that you hoped masked your growing unease. "I thought you said you needed help with math. Or was that just an excuse to waste my time?"

"Harsh," he said, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. "But I really do need the help. You’re the only one who can save me, Miss."

"Then stop flirting and start focusing," you shot back, your patience thinning.

His grin widened, and he leaned in closer, resting his chin on his hand. "Flirting? You think this is flirting?"

You blinked, thrown off by the question.

"Relax, Miss," he said, his tone dripping with mischief. "I’m just messing with you. You’re the one making it a big deal."

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you hated how easily he could fluster you. You glanced down at the paper in front of him, desperate to shift the focus back to the lesson. "You’re still wrong. Fix this step," you said, tapping the page with your pen.

"Anything for you," he teased, finally picking up his pencil again.

But as he worked, the smirk never left his face, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking straight into a trap of his making.

As the tutoring session came to an end, you let out a quiet sigh of relief. Finally, you were done—for now.

You glanced at Gojo, who leaned back in his chair with a lazy yawn, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt shifted slightly, revealing a sliver of skin that you immediately forced yourself not to notice.

"Was it that boring?" you asked, your tone half-joking but tinged with genuine curiosity.

He dropped his arms and looked at you with that same infuriating smirk. "Not boring, just exhausting. You’re a tough teacher, Miss."

"That’s because you need it," you replied, gathering your materials and shoving them into your bag.

"Need it? Or need you?" he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard, but quickly masked your reaction by standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. "Save the smooth talk for someone else, Gojo," you said firmly, though you couldn’t stop the faint heat creeping up your neck.

He chuckled, standing up as well and slinging his bag lazily over one shoulder. "Whatever you say, Miss. But I think we both know I’m not giving up that easily."

You rolled your eyes, stepping away from the table and heading for the door. "Be on time next time, or this arrangement is over."

"Yes, ma’am," he called after you, his voice teasing as ever.

As you walked out of the library, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of frustration and anticipation swirling in your chest. You were supposed to be the one in control, the professional, the teacher. So why did it feel like he was the one leading the game?

—♪°.•✧•.°♪—

You sat back in your chair, trying to enjoy the moment of peace. The warm glow of the cafe, the soft hum of background music, and the rich taste of your iced caffe mocha should’ve been the perfect escape.

But of course, peace was not something you could have for long.

The bell above the door chimed, and you felt it—the sudden presence of someone. The unmistakable, overconfident aura of Satoru Gojo.

You looked up just in time to see him strolling into the cafe, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. He grinned, as if he’d just found a treasure chest.

"Well, well, fancy seeing you here, Missy," he called out, his voice smooth and casual, as if you were long-time friends.

Missy?

You furrowed your brows slightly at the nickname, feeling your annoyance spike. You hadn’t exactly invited him into your personal space.

But of course, Gojo had already started making his way over to your table, weaving through the small crowd of customers with that same confident swagger.

He leaned against the back of your chair with a wide grin, not even waiting for an invitation to sit.

"Hey, Gojo," you said, trying to keep your voice neutral, though the irritation in it was undeniable. "What are you doing here?"

His smirk widened, clearly amused by your less-than-enthusiastic response. "What, can’t a guy enjoy a nice cafe on a chill evening? I think it’s fate we ran into each other."

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of your drink, trying to ignore the fact that he was now standing way too close for comfort.

"You’re seriously everywhere," you muttered, not quite sure if you were talking to him or to yourself.

"Everywhere?" Gojo repeated, feigning offense. "I’m just trying to be in the right place at the right time. Seems like that’s exactly where I’m supposed to be."

You shot him a look, still trying to process the situation. Of course, of all places…

Gojo, oblivious to your internal battle, finally pulled up a chair and sat down across from you without asking. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table as if he’d known you for years.

"So, what’s a pretty lady like you doing here all alone?" he asked, his voice dripping with that signature teasing tone.

You tried to maintain your composure, but his casual demeanor was starting to wear on you. "Taking a break. Is that a crime?"

"Not at all," he replied, his grin never fading. "But I’m starting to think you’re trying to escape me."

"I’m not escaping you," you shot back, your patience already thinning. "I’m just enjoying a quiet moment. Something you seem to have no concept of."

He laughed softly, clearly unbothered by your irritation. "Relax, Miss. I’m just here to keep you company."

You sighed, shaking your head. "You’ve got a strange idea of company."

He just winked at you, as if that made everything okay.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, glancing around the cafe. If anyone from school saw you two here together... The thought of rumors starting made your stomach twist. You had worked hard to establish a professional image, and the last thing you needed was to be caught up in gossip.

Clearing your throat, you leaned forward slightly, lowering your voice. "Gojo, you should sit somewhere else. If someone sees us—"

But before you could finish, he cut you off, his tone casual, almost mocking. "So what?"

His response was so nonchalant, it threw you off for a moment. He was clearly unfazed by the possibility of rumors, as if he didn’t care what anyone thought.

You opened your mouth to argue, but he continued, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. "Let them talk. Who cares?"

"You're not taking this seriously," you said, feeling your patience slip. "This is a professional setting. I’m your teacher, Gojo."

He leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Yeah, and I'm your student. But we both know that title doesn’t really mean much when it comes to us, does it?"

You froze, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. He was pushing boundaries again, testing you.

"I’m just saying," he added with a shrug, "if someone has a problem with us sitting together, that’s their issue, not ours."

You didn’t know how to respond. You wanted to maintaiqn your professionalism, to stand your ground, but Gojo had a way of making everything feel so... casual, as if none of the rules applied to him.

"I think you should go," you said finally, your voice a little more forceful than you intended. "I’m trying to enjoy some peace and quiet."

Gojo didn’t seem put off in the slightest. In fact, he only smiled wider, his eyes glinting with mischief. "You’re no fun, Miss."

You could feel the tension building again, but you forced yourself to stand up, grabbing your things. "I’ll see you at school, Gojo."

"Of course you will," he said, still lounging in his chair as you walked toward the door. "And don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance... for now."

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or frustrated. Either way, you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see him in places like this.

—♪°.•✧•.°♪—

Gojo watched you walk away, his eyes never leaving your retreating figure. He leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips as he mulled over the challenge ahead.

This week was crucial. He’d made a bet with Suguru, and he wasn’t about to lose. Making you his girlfriend in seven days seemed like a joke to most people, but to Gojo, it was a challenge he couldn’t back down from. He didn’t lose. Ever.

His thoughts drifted to the next move. He’d have to be careful, strategic. Inviting you to his house was too bold, too soon. It might be the perfect move eventually, but for now, he needed something that would bring you closer without pushing you away.

He drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. You were strong-willed, no doubt about that. And you were clearly trying to keep things professional. But that only made the game more interesting.

What would it take to break through that professionalism?

Gojo smirked again, already planning his next step. He wasn’t about to let Suguru win. He’d get to you, one way or another.

"One week," he muttered to himself, determination settling into his voice. "Just one week, and you’ll be mine."

Gojo leaned back further in his chair, letting his mind race with possibilities. He knew he had to be more subtle if he was going to pull this off. If he was too forward, you’d shut him down immediately, and that would ruin everything.

He thought back to the tutoring session, how you’d tried so hard to maintain your professional distance, yet he could see through it. The way you’d flinched when he got too close, how your voice faltered when he teased you—it was clear you were affected, whether you admitted it or not. That was his opening.

But still, there was a line he couldn’t cross too quickly. He’d seen how hard you were trying to hold onto your composure, and that made the game all the more exciting. Gojo didn’t just want to win—you were a challenge, and that was the best part.

He considered the idea of dropping a hint here and there, slowly chipping away at the barriers you’d built. Maybe he could "accidentally" bump into you after school or find an excuse to keep showing up where you were. Slowly but surely, he’d break down your resistance. He had time.

But not much time, he reminded himself. One week.

Gojo’s grin widened, and he pushed himself up from the chair, feeling the thrill of the game. He wouldn’t lose. Not to Suguru, and certainly not to anyone else.

He’d make you his.

—♪°.•✧•.°♪—

The morning air was chilly, a calmness lingering in the school as you made your way to the classroom. It was quiet, the halls still mostly empty, with only a few students arriving early. You were looking forward to a peaceful start to your day, maybe even getting some work done before the chaos of the school day began.

But as soon as you entered the classroom, your expectations were shattered.

There, seated casually at his desk, was none other than Satoru Gojo. He was already there, as if he had been waiting for you. His eyes locked onto you the moment you stepped through the door, and with that signature smirk of his, he waved lazily.

"Hey, Missy!~" he called out, his voice too casual for your liking.

You stopped in your tracks, annoyance immediately creeping into your voice. "What are you doing here so early?" You couldn’t help but sound irritated. Was he always this unpredictable?

Gojo leaned back in his seat, unfazed by your tone, his smirk widening. "I'm always early," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing around the empty classroom. Of course you are. You couldn’t deny the fact that you seemed to run into him at the most inconvenient times. Alone, just the two of you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doing this on purpose, trying to make things... complicated.

"Seriously, do we always have to run into each other like this?" you muttered under your breath, hoping he wouldn’t hear. But of course, he did.

"Always, Missy," Gojo replied, his voice light but with a certain edge. "Seems like fate wants us to cross paths, don’t you think?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your composure. "I’m just here to teach, Gojo. I don’t have time for... whatever this is."

He only chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. "You say that now, but I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for each other, Missy. After all, I’m your best student, right?"

You sighed, already feeling the tension building. Why did everything with him feel like a game?

You shot him a pointed look, not even bothering to hide your annoyance. "You're not."

Gojo only smirked wider, his confidence radiating from him like an unstoppable force. "I know I am. I’m your favorite student," he teased, leaning back in his chair with a cocky grin plastered on his face.

Tch.

You couldn’t help but feel a knot tighten in your stomach, the frustration and confusion swirling inside you. Why did he always have to be so confident, so self-assured? It was infuriating. You hated it, you told yourself. You had to hate it.

But then, why did his smirk seem to send a strange flutter through your chest? Why did you feel a mix of irritation and... something else when he spoke like that?

You shook your head, trying to focus on the task at hand. No. This isn’t about him. You were here to teach, to maintain your professionalism. You weren’t supposed to let him get under your skin.

"Gojo," you said, trying to regain control of the situation. "Stop acting like you own the place."

He only shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face. "Maybe I do. Maybe I’m just getting comfortable."

You let out a frustrated sigh. How was he always so calm, so unaffected? And why was it always you he had to test like this?

---

You sat down at your desk, trying to focus on your paperwork, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Gojo was still watching you. It was like his eyes were drilling into your soul, making it impossible to concentrate.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the silence between you both stretching out far too long. Finally, unable to stand the tension, you spoke up, hoping to break the awkwardness.

"Since you're this early, don't you have anything to do?" you asked, keeping your voice neutral, though a hint of irritation still lingered.

Gojo didn’t even flinch, his gaze never leaving you as he lazily rested his chin on his hand. "Nah, I’m good. I prefer to hang around with you," he said, his tone too casual, almost like he was joking, but there was something about the way he said it that made you question whether he was really joking at all.

You stared at him, trying to suppress the warmth creeping up your neck. "I’m not here for your entertainment, Gojo," you replied firmly, but you couldn’t help the faint hint of frustration that seeped into your voice.

He only grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I’m just trying to keep you company. You look lonely."

Lonely? You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered at his words, though you quickly brushed it off. "I’m fine, thank you," you said, hoping he would take the hint.

But Gojo, of course, didn’t. He pushed himself off his chair and walked toward your desk, his presence overwhelming. "You sure about that? Because I think you need someone to talk to."

You fought to maintain your composure, keeping your eyes on the papers in front of you. "I don’t need anyone to talk to, Gojo. I have work to do."

But he was persistent, his gaze unwavering as he leaned against your desk. "Work, huh? Sounds boring." He flashed you that trademark smirk again, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you.

You bit your lip, trying to hold onto your professionalism. Why does he always make everything feel so... difficult?

You sighed, doing your best to ignore him and focus on the mountain of work in front of you. But it was impossible. No matter how much you tried, your attention kept slipping back to him. The way he stood there, leaning casually against your desk, looking like he owned the entire room.

And then, of course, came the familiar, irritating sound of his voice.

"Missy, I’m boreddd," Gojo whined dramatically, stretching the word out as if he were a child who didn’t get his way.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "You’re bored? You’re literally in class right now. Do you want me to give you more homework?" you snapped, trying to sound stern, but even you could hear the frustration in your voice.

Gojo grinned, clearly entertained by your irritation. "Homework? Nah, that’s not what I want. I want your attention, Missy," he said with a wink, his smirk widening.

Your heart skipped a beat—no, you couldn’t let him get to you. Not again. You refocused on your papers, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you to your work. But of course, he didn’t.

You could feel his presence hovering just inches away from you, like he was intentionally closing the gap. It made your skin feel warm, your thoughts racing. Focus, focus, focus...

"Gojo, please," you said, your voice quieter this time, but laced with an underlying sense of annoyance. "I have work to do. If you’re so bored, maybe you could go to your next class."

Gojo just chuckled, his voice light but somehow insistent. "But I’m already where I need to be. With you, Missy."

You fought to keep your composure, even as your heart raced. This was ridiculous. He’s just a student, you reminded yourself. A student who’s crossing every line, but still just a student.

"Gojo," you said firmly, though the edge in your voice was starting to falter. "You really need to stop this. I’m not here to entertain you."

But Gojo only leaned in closer, his eyes mischievous, voice lowering slightly. "Maybe you should entertain me, then. Or at least make it worth my while, Missy."

You felt your heart race as he leaned in closer, the tension thick in the air. You quickly tried to compose yourself, but his presence was almost overwhelming. Every part of you screamed to push him away, to maintain some distance, but he was persistent, his smirk never faltering.

"Gojo," you said, your voice shaky despite your best efforts. "I’m serious. You need to stop."

He tilted his head, looking at you with that cocky, knowing grin that seemed to say he knew exactly what he was doing to you. "Stop? But I’m having fun, Missy. You don’t mind, do you?" he teased, his tone playful, but with an underlying edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

You fought the urge to take a step back, to put some space between the two of you. "This isn’t a joke, Gojo," you replied, trying to steady your breath. "I’m your teacher, and you’re crossing lines."

Gojo just laughed, the sound carefree and maddeningly confident. "Crossing lines? Come on, Missy, you’re just not having fun. I can tell. I think you’re starting to enjoy this," he said, his voice dropping lower as he leaned even closer.

Your mind raced. No, I’m not enjoying this. You were frustrated. Annoyed. You hated how he made you feel this way, how his teasing seemed to break down all your walls. You were supposed to be the one in control here, the professional, but Gojo was making it impossible to stay composed.

You quickly pulled your chair back, putting some distance between you. "This is inappropriate, Gojo. You need to leave," you said, your voice firmer now, though your pulse was still racing.

He looked at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, but then, as if he were finally getting the message, he pushed off from the desk with a sigh. "Fine, fine. I’ll go," he said, though the smirk on his face never wavered. "But I’ll be back later, Missy. You can’t get rid of me that easily."

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Your hands were shaking slightly, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. What is wrong with me? You asked yourself, trying to regain some semblance of control.

But deep down, you knew this was far from over. Gojo was going to make sure of that.

As the minutes ticked by, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was lingering in the air. You tried to refocus on your work, but the image of Gojo’s smirk, the weight of his presence, kept distracting you. You were sure your thoughts were running in circles, but you couldn’t help it. He had a way of getting under your skin like no one else.

The classroom slowly started filling with students, each one settling into their seats as the bell for the next class was about to ring. You glanced up, knowing that Gojo would be walking in any second. And sure enough, as the last student took their seat, he strolled in with his usual casual confidence.

His eyes immediately found you, and without hesitation, he gave you that trademark smirk. "Hey, Missy," he said, his voice carrying across the room like it was just another casual greeting.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, keeping your expression neutral. Focus, you reminded yourself. You’re here to teach.

But even as you mentally prepared yourself, Gojo's presence seemed to fill the room, and it made everything feel… different. The usual rhythm of your class was now overshadowed by his gaze, the weight of his attention on you. You couldn't avoid him now, and worse yet, your class with him was just about to begin.

"Alright, everyone," you said, trying to sound as professional as possible. "Let’s get started."

Gojo, however, had other plans. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving you, as if daring you to maintain control. The entire class could feel the shift, and you knew it wasn’t just you. You could practically hear the whispers starting already.

As always, Gojo and Geto were whispering to each other, their heads leaned together in what seemed like a never-ending conversation. You could hear bits and pieces of their banter—Gojo’s obnoxious voice and Geto’s more subdued replies. It was almost like a background hum to your lecture, one you were growing far too used to.

Despite the distractions, you did your best to maintain your focus. You kept speaking, your voice steady as you went over the day’s lesson. But every so often, your eyes would drift toward them, and you’d catch Gojo's smirk or see Geto's unimpressed expression. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of their attention, even though they clearly weren’t taking the lesson seriously.

"Gojo, Geto," you said, your voice sharper than you intended, trying to regain some control. "If you're done with your... conversation, I’d appreciate it if you focused on the lesson."

Gojo’s head snapped up immediately, and that trademark smirk spread across his face. "What? You want us to stop talking? But Missy, I thought we were just getting to the good part," he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

Geto, on the other hand, just gave you a bored look, as if he was used to this routine. "Gojo, stop," he muttered under his breath, but it was clear he wasn’t interested in helping you either.

You clenched your jaw, trying not to let them get under your skin. "I’m not asking for a conversation, Gojo," you said, keeping your tone professional despite the growing frustration. "I’m teaching a class, and I expect my students to respect that."

Gojo’s grin only widened, and he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Respect? Oh, Missy, you know I respect you... in my own way," he said, the double meaning in his words hanging in the air.

Your mind raced, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of showing how much his words affected you. "Focus on your work," you said firmly, redirecting the class back to the material.

For a moment, Gojo didn’t respond. But then, in a voice that was far too casual for your liking, he muttered, "Alright, Missy. Whatever you say."

You turned back to the whiteboard, determined to finish the lesson without letting him derail you again. But you knew—this was only the beginning. Gojo wasn’t going to make it easy for you.

You were furious. The way Gojo talked to you, so casually, so disrespectfully—it was as if you were just another peer to him, not his teacher. It infuriated you how he always acted so unseriously, as if everything was a game. You hated how easily he got under your skin, how he made you feel small, like your authority didn’t even matter.

The way he smirked at you from across the room only made your frustration grow. You hated that you couldn’t control your reactions, hated how he could make you feel this way. It was as if nothing you did had any effect on him. You were just another obstacle for him to toy with.

You clenched your fists at your sides, forcing yourself to breathe. Calm down, you told yourself. Don’t let him get to you.

You took a deep breath and continued the lesson, but it was hard to focus. Gojo’s presence, his gaze, everything about him was a constant distraction. You kept your eyes on the board, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crack.

The students seemed to notice the shift in the air, the tension growing thicker in the room. Even though Gojo wasn’t speaking, you could feel his attention on you, like a weight on your shoulders. You hated it.

"Alright," you said, trying to push through the discomfort. "Let’s move on to the next section." You wrote a few problems on the board, your handwriting sharp and quick as you focused on the task at hand.

But even as you continued to speak, you couldn’t help but feel Gojo’s gaze following you, lingering like a silent challenge. Focus, you reminded yourself again. Don’t let him get to you.

You could feel the weight of his eyes, the way he was always watching, always waiting for you to break. And deep down, you knew—you hated that he was winning.

The rest of the lesson dragged on, your every attempt to stay focused constantly interrupted by Gojo’s presence. His gaze never wavered from you, and you could feel it like a weight pressing down on your every move. It was maddening. Every time you glanced over at him, he was lounging in his seat, looking far too comfortable, that smug grin still plastered on his face. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was watching you, studying your every reaction.

It felt like a game to him. He was enjoying this—making you lose your composure, making you feel like you were out of control. You hated it.

"Alright, class, we’ll go over this together," you said, trying to steady your voice, trying to act like you were still in charge. You walked to the whiteboard, writing out the next problem, but your mind was elsewhere. How were you supposed to keep teaching when Gojo was making it so difficult?

You could feel his eyes following you, even from across the room. It was almost as if he was waiting for you to slip up, to show any sign of weakness. But you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. You were a teacher, and you weren’t about to let a student—especially Gojo—distract you.

You cleared your throat and continued the lesson, your words coming out with more force than you intended. "This is an important concept. You need to understand this if you want to move on to the next level. Are we clear?"

The class nodded, but Gojo’s smirk never faded. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, as if he was completely at ease. The audacity. The way he treated you as if you were just another student. You could feel your irritation building up again, but you refused to let it show.

The bell finally rang, signaling the end of class. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, though you knew it was just a temporary escape. You gathered your things, ready to leave, but as always, Gojo wasn’t done with you.

"Hey, Missy," he called, his voice lazy, casual, as if he hadn’t just spent the entire class throwing you off balance. "Same time tomorrow, right? You know, for our tutoring session."

You turned to face him, feeling a mix of frustration and something else—something you didn’t want to acknowledge. "We’ll see," you said, keeping your tone cool, but the heat in your chest was undeniable. "And keep it down next time. I’m not your friend."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his smirk only growing. "Of course, Missy. Whatever you say." He winked, and for a split second, you thought you might actually lose your composure. But you kept it together, turning on your heel and walking out of the classroom.

As you left, you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could keep up this facade. How much longer you could pretend that Gojo’s presence didn’t affect you. Because deep down, you knew it was only a matter of time before everything you were trying to hold back came crashing down.

As you walked down the hallway, your mind was a mess. Thoughts of Gojo, his constant teasing, and the way he seemed to effortlessly break through your walls, kept swirling in your head. You tried to push it all aside, focusing on the task at hand, but it was impossible to ignore the growing tension every time you were near him.

Get it together, you told yourself. You’re a professional. He’s just a student.

But as the weight of his gaze, his words, and his presence hung over you, it was harder than ever to convince yourself of that. Every time you tried to draw a line, Gojo seemed to find a way to erase it, leaving you more confused, more frustrated than before.

You reached the exit, your hand on the door, ready to escape to the calm of your own thoughts, but as you turned the handle, you felt a sudden pull—an overwhelming sense that things were only going to get more complicated. You glanced over your shoulder, the echoes of his teasing words still fresh in your mind.

And just like that, you knew: this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

You stepped outside, the cool air hitting your face, but even it couldn’t cool the heat building inside you. This was just the beginning.

Previous chapter!

A/n- hope you liked this chapter! Feel free to drop your thoughts, and they're definitely gonna get so close next chapter!♡🤭

[jayden-writes]

respite

pairing: Lucifer x gn!Reader

wordcount: ~0.8k

genre: fluff

cw: none!

summary: a serene evening with Lucifer

other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // based on this drawing I commissioned from @stulili // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic!

“Come on now. Don't be shy,” Lucifer said, his hand stretched out towards you expectantly, a soft melody filling his bedroom. It was rather late in the evening and you had spent most of the day with him, taking advantage of the fact that he had taken a day off - for the first time in who knows how long; he was wearing those sweatpants you had gotten him once half as a joke, even if only in the privacy of his room.

“You know I can't dance and I don't want to step on you,” you rebuffed him, but he refused to be deterred by that.

“I am perfectly capable of leading you. Besides, I assure you that I can handle a few missteps here and there,” he pointed out while he watched you, his expression and posture relaxed. A satisfied smile tugged on the corners of his lips when you eventually relented, and he guided your palm up to press a kiss on your skin, causing your cheeks to heat up. He settled his free hand possessively on your waist, and you rested yours on his upper arm, keeping a small, yet comfortable distance. Both of your socked feet were moving silently, and your eyes were fixed on the wooden floor as you struggled to keep up and at the same time not step on him.

“My eyes are up here, dear,” he teased you after a few minutes of silence and slow movements - his were practiced and cadenced, yours were clumsy.

“Well, I don’t want to step on you”, you reiterated, feeling embarrassed by the obvious difference in skill between you and him.

“You won’t,” he reassured you softly, “at least try not to look down so much and relax, just exist in this moment and let go. You will do fine, I promise.”

You huffed quietly and kept staring at the ground, your brow furrowed with the effort of not misstepping. Without a warning, he snaked his arm around your waist until his palm came to rest on your lower back and he carefully, but assertively, pulled you closer to him. For a second, your already unpracticed steps faltered, though miraculously, you didn’t tread on his feet. Out of instinct, you wrapped an arm around his torso to steady yourself and he continued to guide you, unperturbed by your blunder.

“H-Hey!” you stammered. At that, he chuckled affectionately, thoroughly enjoying having caught you off guard. He nuzzled your hair with his nose, his breaths gently tickling the top of your head and you shuddered a little, goosebumps forming on your skin. Being pressed flush against Lucifer allowed you to feel the rise and fall of his chest, the familiar heat of his body seeping into you. With your ear resting right above his steadily beating heart, you finally let yourself relax a bit more and trust in him.

He led you a bit longer until gradually, he became slower, coming to a stop, and the two of you simply stood in the room, holding each other. Lucifer let go of your hand and cupped your cheek instead, tipping your face upward to meet his gaze.

“I love you,” he whispered into the small space between you, his garnet-red eyes brimming with warmth as he regarded you tenderly and you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach. No matter how many times you had heard these words from him, it still made your pulse race and your knees weak.

“And I love you,” you muttered in response, closing the remaining distance. When his warm lips met yours, he tightened his grip on you marginally, pressing you even closer as if he never wanted to let you go and you let him, melting into Lucifer’s all-encompassing embrace.

After a few moments you pulled away, needing to catch your breath, and he used the opportunity to press light kisses on the corner of your mouth, cheek and temple, making you giggle. He laughed faintly, placing his lips on your forehead, then he withdrew, taking your hands in his and kissing your knuckles as well. The flush on your face grew more pronounced and you sheepishly averted your gaze.

“Now, now, none of that,” he murmured, tilting your head back towards him with a delicate grasp on your jaw. “There you go, that’s better.”

Lucifer looked at you, his eyes crinkling as he smiled fondly, pecking your heated cheek once again before pulling you with him to his bed. Lying on the mattress, he tugged on your hand until you laid down next to him, and almost like it was second nature to him, he wrapped his arms around you to draw your body closer to his. You nestled your face into the crook of his neck, the skin cool against your blush.

He hummed contentedly, tucking your head underneath his chin while he held you securely, tangling his legs with yours; there was no way you could move away, even if you wanted to.

There was nowhere else you’d rather be.

[madelynhimegami]

Arle Nadja Guide

I've heard a couple people say that they feel like they don't really get a good feel for who Arle is. Dunno if this will change their minds any, but I hope it helps.

Arle Nadja is freewheeling and easy come, easy go girl.

She loves adventure and exploring. Especially when that prominantly involves dungeon crawling.

Helps that she's been doing it from age 4.

Arle is, in fact, so hooked on dungeon crawling that Ringo and Amitie had to actively prevent her from entering what she already knew was a trap made to look like a dungeon entrance.

In addition to the adventuring, Arle likes travel as a means to meet new people with different ways of living.

She's well aware that most of her friends (especially from her own world) are insane. But she loves them regardless.

Arle isn't materialistic. As long as she has a way to get her basic needs met, her interest in wealth is, at most, transient.

Similarly, she's not particularly interested in becoming powerful.

I think she still likes learning new stuff about magic, including new spells, but the power of the magic in question is inconsequential to her.

Arle acts and speaks very casually, regardless of where she is or who she's talking to. She doesn't really care for formality and dislikes being expected to act a certain way.

Consequently, she has no reason to really ever acknowledge or respect authority without them earning it.

She made fun of brick jesus and his decisions to his face (at least before learning she was dealing with a small child).

I feel like Arle tends to be pretty good at reading vibes of others. As in, she can generally tell if someone is dangerous, stupid, struggling, being forced to act a certain way, sincere, or manipulative.

If so, she doesn't use that skill very often, because she's encountered too many people she will never understand she prefers to live and let live.

Arle is always willing to lend a hand to those in need of one. In fact, she's not very good at refusing to help, if asked.

Arle doesn't plan ahead very much. She just goes with the flow of things and assume that it'll all end up working out for the better.

She's not particularly inclined to strategic thinking (though she is perfectly capable of it). Her preferred method of handling obstacles is to face them head-on.

Satan doing something stupid? Beat him up. Door blocking the way? Tear it off its hinges.

That said, Arle is quite flexible, able to work with rapidly-changing circumstances, plus she's good at imrovising solutions.

She also probably has plenty of survivalist skills. You don't survive 12+ years of dungeon crawling without having a good sense of knowing what will or won't kill you, and how to protect yourself from the latter.

(I hate that I have to say this, but that does include bathing. Not washing dungeon gunk off is how you get fun and exciting new diseases.)

Her spells reflect those priorities, as well. Most of her combat-oriented spells aren't for dealing direct damage, but for self-defense.

Even then, she's has a blasé attitude towards danger, and doesn't get threatened easily in the slightest.

This is a girl that got into multiple fights with an owlbear and won before she started kindergarten.

She's not reckless, however. She's very aware that she's not invincible or unstoppable, and has reliable risk assessment.

Tight situations where she's in more trouble than she was prepared for is where a lot of her improvisation skills shine.

Arle's really forgiving. She doesn't hold grudges or resentment, even if someone has reduced her to her last frazzled nerve.

Case in point, she became friends with a man that abducted her and subsequently tried to kill her. Despite his protests.

Her gregariousness tends to grow on people, making her pretty good at making friends (albeit not as good as Amitie).

However, her forgiving nature only extends to herself. Threaten or annoy her all you want, she'll let it slide. But if a friend of hers has a problem with you, so does Arle.

Arle has a very dry sense of humor. She can snark with the best of them.

She mostly employs sarcasm to tease her friends (mostly the ones from her world), but she'll use it in full force if something annoys her enough.

(These often overlap, especially when Satan's involved)

She also can and will verbally destroy you for your nonsense if pushed far enough.

While known to get annoyed, frustrated, or agitated, Arle very rarely (if ever) gets truly angry. I firmly believe attacking a friend with intent to seriously harm is one way to do it, however.

She tends to have more patience with anybody younger than her. Doubly so if she has reason to believe they're relying on her.

Arle is very stubborn. She dies hard and never gives up.

It also makes her strong-willed enough to resist possession. She's actually on the record for forcibly expelling Ecolo from her body by attacking herself.

Both the above tie into Arle's greatest fear: helplessness. She is terrified of being trapped in a situation where there is absolutely nothing she can do to affect it, even superficially.

Much like Ringo, I think Arle is, in theory, a perfectly capable cook. But unlike Ringo, where Arle goes off the deep end is her obsession with curry. She'd pretty much always prefer making that.

Although not a powerhouse, Arle isn't your typical squishy mage. She's fit and resilient enough to get by a lot of her situations. And she can throw a good punch if needed.

We don't see it very often anymore (which is a shame imo), but Arle is a capable staff wielder, and will use one as a magic focus if it's available.

I think Arle used to be more self-centered and interested in magic for her own gain, but changed after a certain incident while she was at magic school.

Because of the incident, she's decided that there is no knowledge, possession, or power that is more important than the lives of other people, especially those you care about.

That being said, she actually doesn't remember the incident very clearly.

Of note, even before this personal epiphany, Arle was against fighting lethally and made it a point to only leave those she fights unconscious. She's even begged her friends to not kill someone even if it would help her.

The epiphany is another reason why she's less materialistic, however.

Arle is a believer in the idea that it's the journey, not the destination, that matters. Several of her adventures end in disappointment or anti-climax, but she gets over it quickly.

No matter how an adventure ends, there's bound to be another one over the horizon.

Because of the above, and her aforementioned penchance for flexibility and adaptability, Arle doesn't let setbacks bother her. If she can stand back up, she can always keep going. And she will.

Although Arle isn't at all shy, she doesn't like to be made the center of attention or put on a pedastal. She's just a girl doing her thing, y'know? To her, that's not something she needs to be lauded for.

She's also doesn't really show signs of physical or romantic attraction of any kind. She can recognize a person as being handsome or beautiful, but only does so as a neutral descriptor.

Arle is the only one that can truly understand Carbuncle. She's fully fluent in gu, as well.

Somehow that lets her understand other mascot-like critters, on the rare occasions she comes across them.

[androgynealienfemme]

"When I was eleven or twelve years old, I used to shop in the boy's department at Bloomingdale's, just as the other prepubescent private school girls did. That was where you could purchase polo shirts, Shetland sweaters, and all the other socially acceptable androgynous clothing for our age group and gender. They fit and suited me just fine, but what would have suited me even better was nothing other than an actual suit: the three piece variety mad of thin-wale, beige corduroy with brown simulated leather buttons.

I knew exactly where they hung in the boys' department, and I paid them a visit each time I was in the vicinity. It's funny, but though I can't remember at the time ever seeing a girl or woman in one of these suits, that did not hinder my imagination of what that would look like. Neither did the shortage of real life models ever lead to any questions about why exactly there was one. Somehow I had simply gotten it into my head that such a sight would be wonderful. And, though once again I felt no need to ponder precisely how I knew this, clearly, the most appropriate person to wear such a suit would be me.

Picturing myself in the suit, I was suddenly a lot taller and older and stunningly sophisticated,. The suit seemed to have the almost magical power to make me strong, wise, just. The vision of myself naturally included physical as well as mental capabilities well beyond those of an eleven-or twelve-year-old, but who was I to disbelieve the suit's mystique?

I never tried one on. Although the desire to own one felt perfectly natural to me, it had been met with a mixture of mocking laughter and horror by my mother. Something about her response definitely said, "No." and, "Tell no one." So the suits, like forbidden fruit, remained there untouched by me for years, moved at times from one corner of the department to another, but always just out of reach of my young body's many secret yearnings.

Roughly fourteen years later, as I was walking in the rain, I suddenly realized I was butch. Everything made sense. My butchness came as much more of a surprise to me than my lesbianism, which, despite some years of procrastination on my part as to actually adopting it as a daily lifestyle, I always knew and comfortably accepted.

The way I ever so swaggered and stomped my clunky boots when I walked, and felt sort of proud of it, now made sense. The way I firmly held the umbrella over the woman I love and protected her from the rain as I guided her down the Brooklyn street took on new clarity. The freedom and invincibleness I feel after a close haircut I better understood. The pleasure and vanity I indulge in when I stretch my muscles to lift something that looks heavier than I can manage all at once held new meaning. The childlike glee I feel every time I discover something needing to be fixed in the house and the puffed=up self-importance that fills me each time I fix it had new significance for me. Even my tremendous need for control could now be explained. And my assertive overtures of passion in the dark where I gently bur firmly demand submission most of all seemed to fit.

I gripped the handle of the umbrella tighter and walked along with, I'm sure, the stupidest grin on my face, flashing the woman I love periodic glances of affection as she continued to talk happily, oblivious to the volcano that had just erupted beside her. There, in the rain, as a flood of feelings and enlightenment washed my insides, I had one final glimmer of insight. I at last understood that without ever actually buying the three-piece suit made of thin-wale, beige corduroy, with the brown, simulated leather buttons, I had been wearing one all along."

-"Sweet Suit Suite" Audrey Grifel, The Persistent Desire, (Edited by Joan Nestle (1992)

[yomica12345]

“Patton, stop.” Janus placed a gloved hand over Patton’s, halting his movements. He waited until tired eyes met his unusually soft gaze, concern flickering as he took in the moral side's worn figure. “You’ve done enough.”

Patton hesitantly lowered the shirt in his hands, eyebrows pinching together. “But-” He began, bringing a hand up to stifle a yawn. His body tensed up as he struggled to fend it off before it finally slackened letting it overtake him. 

“Roman’s an adult, Patton. He’s perfectly capable from here.” Janus pointed out. He slipped the shirt out of Patton’s hands, placing it carelessly on the table. Honestly the creative side needed to learn how to do more for himself. “You already stayed up all night with him, you do not have to fold his laundry for him too. You are not his mother.”

“But I’m almost finished, Jan. It’s really no big deal.” Patton offered, gesturing weakly over the pile he had already folded, his arm dropping slightly after the motion. “I can—”

Janus grabbed the basket of folded laundry and dumped it onto the table in one swift motion. Without hesitation, he scooped the clothes back into the basket, quirking an eyebrow as his attention flicked back to Patton. “Roman will handle it.”

Patton stared at the basket, his frown deepening. His hands hovered over it for a moment before he spoke, voice tight. “But I want to do this for him… I want to help.”

Janus’s gaze softened. “Patton, you’re exhausted. You’re pushing yourself too far.” He paused, looking at Patton with quiet concern. “When was the last time you took a moment for yourself?”

“But that would be selfish. Why would I—” Patton cut himself off, eyes widening in realization. “I mean, not that you— I mean…” He grimaced, his hands fumbling awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“Taking time for yourself is a necessity, Patton.” Janus sighed, guiding Patton toward his room. “You cannot continue at this pace indefinitely without finding yourself in a state of inability or dysfunction. Would you prefer pushing yourself to the point of needing help, or would you rather be self-sufficient?”

“Well, no…” Patton glanced back at Janus, his eyes pleading with him. “But… what if someone needs me?”

“I’m sure we can assist each other with any needs we may have,” he said, his voice low and calm. “You need to rest, Patton. Once you’re well rested and feeling more like yourself again, we’ll handle everything together.”

Janus untied the hoodie from around Patton’s shoulders, folding it with care before resting it on the small brown nightstand by the bed. His movements were deliberate, ensuring Patton felt comforted. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured Patton into his cat onesie, lifting the bedding out of the way gently so Patton could lie down.

Patton watched the smooth, gentle movements that felt uncharacteristic for the deceitful side. His voice was soft, almost unsure. “Why… why are you helping me?”

Janus’s lips quirked at the side, his usual smirk softened as he rested the blanket over Patton. “Well, I couldn’t possibly be doing this because I care. I surely must be doing this for my own personal gain.”

Patton reached up slowly, as though uncertain if Janus would accept the gesture, but his hand found Janus’s cheek anyway. He placed a gentle kiss against it. “Thank you, Janus.”

Janus’s cheeks warmed as he struggled to clear his throat, taking a step back. “Of-Of course, Patton.” He gave an awkward nod before stepping back. “If you need anything just…” he summoned a bell, placing it over Patton’s cardigan, “ring this.” His eyes met Patton’s again, the earnestness in them clear. “I mean it. I really do.”

Patton smiled, the weariness in his features softened by quiet gratitude. “Bell, I guess I’ll have to then.”

Janus turned off the bedroom light, leaving only the soft glow of the hallway light to illuminate the room. As he closed the door behind himself, he paused for a moment, raising a hand to his cheek as he glanced back at the door. A small, affectionate smile tugged at his lips. Perhaps he would have to help Patton more often. He certainly didn’t mind it.

[callsignmarz]

MDNI| 18+ | Keegan x Y/N | Fem

TW- mentions of weapons, sexual content & adult language.

“Claim Me.” (Final Pt.)

God, you were sore in all the right places.

But as much as you would love to put all the blame into this morning's work out session.

There was no argument that Keegan did a number on you last night.

You still couldn't fathom how he simply demolished your inner walls. Repeatedly bulldozing his way in, chipping away parts and taking each piece to reconstruct you back together to suit him and him only.

Recrossing your legs for the 20th time today, you squirm in your office chair, fighting the urge to extinguish the wildfire of arousal.

It was a struggle to maintain focus with last night's performance replaying, distracting you from paperwork that was due by the end of the day.

Deep rooted embarrassment swarms with unquestionable desire. As frustration weeds, you finally force yourself to step away from your desk, taking a break to go and walk around the company.

Surely, some fresh air will do the trick.

After walking aimlessly for some time, you wandered into the company's armory. There you saw the regular bunch, fucking around per usual.

Soon, the overlapping voices gradually hushed with all heads in the room turning in your direction. A few soldiers quietly snickered and whispered amongst themselves, thinning your eyes in suspicion, but decided it was better to not ask any questions.

Somehow, last night, word had gotten out and rolled over into today's hot gossip. Unknowingly to you, the swirl of rumors had knitted a blanket of awkwardness, swaddling you completely.

"You have fun last night, L/N?" Asked a random soldier. By the sound of his tone, he was definitely a dared. The question alone had your cheeks glowing with palpable embarrassment but, as hard as it was, you kept your cool.

"Depends on who's asking?" You retort as you faced the giggling soldiers, folding your arms defensively across your chest, giving them an audacious look of ‘Just try and fuck with me.’

At this point, Keegan had just strolled in, placing his rifle meticulously on the leaden gun rack, paying no mind to the room’s current focal point. It wasn’t until what he overheard that made him see nothing but red.

“You were playing with yourself last night?”

“Actually, I wasn’t, Corporal Neece.” You shot back moving a hand to your hip, rolling your eyes to the back of your skull, disgusted that this was even up for discussion.

“Riiight…then, you must’ve been playing with your imaginary boyfriend.” Neece meddles on, getting a kick out of how red your face had turned. “Awe, don’t be so bashful, Y/N.”

Your mouth flops open and right as the natural instinct to slap the ever living shit out of this man, Keegan’s large hand seized your wrist and stationed himself on your front lines. His veins bulge on the verge of bursting with rage. Curling his fingers tightly into a fist, Keegan’s piercing gaze waned in on the now mousey soldier.

“How about this, Corporal. I’m the boyfriend. Do I look real enough to you?” Keegan attested, taking a step forward and cornering Neece with fear lodging itself in his throat, he frantically nods when his back pressed against the cool metal of the weapon’s cabinet. “Good. Now, get lost…all of you.”

Keegan’s authority was never one to be messed with and when he started barking out orders; it meant business. Everyone scrambled, heading Keegan’s order before they all scurried off.

All, except for you.

“I didn’t need you to come to my rescue.” You said sharply, snatching your wrist back, desperately trying to conceal the humiliation you felt. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

Keegan scoffs. “You’re not denying it this time, Sweetheart.”

“There’s nothing to deny. We’re just friends.” You repeated your infamous rebuttal.

Taking a finger, Keegan gently guides your face, lifting your chin up so your eyes meet with his frosty blues. You innately hold a breath in when you feel his other hand snake to the small of your back. “Are you done? Because I’m getting real sick of this little game you’re trying to play right now. We both know what happened. You know damn well that we have something…something real…”

Your bottom lip backpedals between your teeth when Keegan’s thumb skates across, reimagining how they perfectly molded to his last night. With the heat between your bodies radiating, you lean into Keegan’s supportive embrace, perching your arms over his shoulders, no longer denying the insatiable chemistry.

Resting his forehead on yours, Keegan’s next words bristled your skin with goosebumps.

“Claim me.”

Right on cue, you pull Keegan’s skull balaclava up to the bridge of his nose and without a second to spare, your lips collided fervently. Keegan deepens the kiss as his tongue eagerly invades your mouth, exciting a few soft moans out while you relish on the taste of his control. Keegan’s hand falls to cup the shape of your ass, flawlessly it manipulated underneath his palm, his pants grow uncomfortably tight when the flashbacks of last night begin rolling in. The fire of arousal continues to spread when Keegan lightly nips at your bottom lip, your hips take initiative, desperately gyrating against his, igniting primal urges of his own.

Just as stars began to fill your vision, a husked voice took you both by surprise, nearly pissing yourself in the process.

“So you two are an item.” Logan casually publicized with a studious expression. “Could’ve fooled me, to be honest.”

Panicking, you immediately shoved Keegan away with enough force that the air in his lungs come out as a hushed grunt and his expression sours at friendly distance you created as well as the stammering excuses that started pouring from your mouth. Logan’s hand eventually comes up in protest, putting a pause on you.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Y/N. You two make a cute couple. I’m just happy Hugh Hefner over here finally found a good one.”

[meguwumibear]

brief follow up to this <- doesnt have to be read but it will provide additional context big thank you to the kind soul who took the time to comment on the og fic. you got me thinking about this megumi and world again tw omegaverse, noncon impact play (not detailed or described in depth)

The pack is communal. They share everything.

Responsibilities.

Meals.

Beds.

Even mates are shared from time to time. Especially during full moons when temperatures rise and spirits are high. Nothing here belongs to one wolf which means that everything here belongs to every wolf.

It’s a problem, then, when Megumi introduces you to the pack with the intent of keeping you all to himself.

Wolves take human mates from time to time, but the practice is rare. And no one in their right mind would do such a thing without running it by the pack master first. In many packs, the offending wolf would be banished for such behavior. If anyone other than Megumi would’ve pulled such a stunt, perhaps they would’ve been.

But, Megumi is different. Megumi is special.

It’s no secret he’s favored by the pack master and the pack master’s brother. When they were pups, Sukuna often scented him, boasting about how pretty Megumi was going to look with a claiming bite pressed into his flesh.

For a time, Megumi could picture it, could picture himself beneath Sukuna, pretty head empty of all thoughts, ass split open on Sukuna’s thick knot, neck purpling and stinging from the mating bite.

Megumi’s first rut shocked everyone. No one expected such a beautiful boy to present as an alpha. If proper protocol were followed, an older omega would have been brought before him to act as a guide and ease the transition.

But, it was Sukuna who helped Megumi through it, fisting the swollen knot formed at the tip of Megumi’s flushed, smooth cock. Swallowing load after load of Megumi’s warm, salty cum.

The two continued to share their ruts with each other, often forgoing both human and omega companions. Sukuna swore up and down that Megumi didn’t need such a thing, that the two of them were perfectly capable of satisfying each other’s sexual needs.

And, Megumi ate that shit up for a while. He believed he didn't need anyone else. He fucked around a few times just to see what it was like, but the humans cried too much and the omegas were so needy after. None of them smelled particularly enticing anyway.

None of them until you.

Sukuna hates you. He hates you more than the white-haired asshole he had to fight to earn his title. He hates you more than the poachers that stick their underdeveloped noses into his pack’s business. He hates you more than he has anyone ever before.

He hates you so much he resolves to kill you; the only problem with his plan is that Megumi never lets you out of his fucking sight.

It makes Sukuna’s stomach twist in disgust to see him handle you. To watch him press his engorged scent gland against your own, flat flesh. To feed you bite after bite of food he prepared specifically for you from his own, outstretched hand.

You’re fussy. Especially in the early days. Sukuna knows this takes a toll on Megumi. Precious thing wasn’t meant to provide in this way. Alpha or not Megumi has always flourished best under Sukuna’s own thumb.

The solution is a simple one; he offers to help Megumi break you in. The alpha is stubborn at first, insisting that he doesn’t need the help of his pack master, but little by little you wear him down. Megumi comes crawling back to Sukuna before the next shift, all but begging for his assistance.

Poor thing doesn’t have the stomach to discipline you properly. No matter. Sukuna doesn’t mind taking you over his knee. You cry through the whole thrashing, begging for Megumi to stop him, peppering him with your peas and apologies.

But Sukuna knows something you don’t; his nose detects something yours can’t.

Hidden beneath Megumi’s loose trousers is a hardening, leaking cock.

[iliketangerines]

hiii can i request something about jax?? havent seen much work about him hes soo 🤤

for hire

a/n: keeping things fluffy because i guess that vacation really took a lot out of me because i'm so exhausted every day lol

pairing: jackson briggs x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

Jax stares at you balancing the knife on the end of your finger, the sharp end on your finger, and you don’t turn your head his way

you’re sure you’ve seen him, knows you’ve seen him because how else would you be a for hire mercenary if you didn’t have eyes in the back of your head

Sonya stands next to Jax, scowling as you waste more of their time by balancing the knife on your hand

it’s perfectly still, not a single quiver in the metal as you concentrate on how it balances on the tip of your finger

Jax clears his throat, and you effortlessly flip the knife in your hand so that you grip the handle of it, turning your head to look at them with a smile on your face

you give them a friendly little wave, hopping off your seat and eying the both of them up and down, as if sizing the both of them up to see if they were up to par with you

Jax straightens his back and crosses his arms, sizing you up all the same, and you tilt your head at him, directing your full attention onto him

he asks if you know why they’re here, and you roll your eyes at him, saying that of course you know why you’re here, helping the OIA search for the Black Dragon in Outworld

Sonya says that you’re doing more than that, you’re helping guide them around Outworld since you’ve been there plenty of times for a few jobs

you squint your eyes at him, muttering something under your breath about losing your spark if the government could get ahold of information like that

you saunter on to the both of them, patting Jax on the shoulder, before saying that you hope that they packed light because it’s going to be a long journey

Jax glances over at Sonya before following you out of the compound you’d been waiting in and into the wilderness of the outside to whatever portal will take them to Outworld

it’s a long few days, trudging through the wilderness and getting all sorts of things stuck in his boots, but at the very least it had been informative and entertaining

informative in that the very many near death experiences he had and then you swooping in to save him showed that you were more capable than almost anyone he had ever met

entertaining in that you were great company, charming, funny, a sick and fucked-up sense of humor that say just right with Jax

the three of you sit around a campfire, you’re right next to Jax and even though the fire was hot, with your skin pressed into his, you were searing

Sonya was asleep, taking her rest while the two of you took watch, and you stare up into the night sky as you take a sip of your water

neither of speak, letting the sound of the animals fill the space between you two despite the closeness of your bodies

you were staring off into nothing before you turn to Jax, staring down at his metallic arms and looking back up at him before asking what was up with them

Jax snorts, wondering when you were finally going to ask, people always did, but he was surprised it took so long for you to ask

he just tells you he was stuck in an unfortunate mission that ripped off his arms, and you shrug your shoulders and accept the lackluster answer

silence fills the gap between you two, and the awkwardness is almost unbearable for him, glancing back down at you to see if you also seemed uncomfortable

you seem relaxed, completely unbothered by the lack of conversation, until you look back up at him and then snap your fingers together

you say you’ve nearly forgotten how to converse, having spent so much time alone as a mercenary, can’t have those other assassins trying to stab you in the back, literally

Jax says he wouldn’t do such a thing, though the money from your bounty does sound tempting, and you snort at his joke

you say that he earns enough money that he doesn’t need to take your head off and present it to earn that kind of money

besides, he was government, he would be hacked into pieces the second he stepped foot within a 500-mile radius to the criminal compound

Jax shakes his head and disagrees, but he knows you’re right, a light smile on his face a slight chuckle

you smile as you make him laugh, and you keep your eyes on him, tracing the features of his face and staring at him

he just stares right back at you, admiring how the fire lights up your features and how your eyes don’t even leave his for a second

you lean in for a second, as if trying to get a better look at his features, and Jax tilts towards you, letting your eyes explore him all you want

it’s silence between the two of you, charged with something beyond the relationship the two have now and something that could change the course of both of your lives

you two are so close that he’s sure you can smell his breath, how the scent of a cigar clings to his skin, and yet you don’t move away

Sonya stirs in the corner, throwing a jacket at Jax’s face and telling the two of you to stop making bedroom eyes at each other and focus on the mission

Jax turns his attention away from you and toward the fire, feeling the heat creeping into his cheeks, but all you do is give Sonya a playful pout before standing up letting her sit next to Jax and take you spot

you assume the place where she had been napping, and you draw the your jacket around you a little tighter before letting your chin dip down

your chest rises peacefully, slowly, but he knows that you’re only half-asleep, too wired and too experienced in the field to actually go into deep sleep

Sonya elbows Jax’s side, earning a slight grunt and a side eye from the man, and she warns him to not get in too deep with you

this was only a temporary alliance with you right now, and after the mission, you two would go right back to being on opposite sides

Jax purses his lips and looks back at your sleeping figure, how your fingers leave your weapon and how your lips look so plump in the warm light

he says that he knows, clamping his hands together as he stares

you’re just a mercenary for hire, and he worked for the government, it would never work

and yet, he still found himself drawn to you anyway, failings of a human heart he supposed