#there are more but these are the ones I’m most coherent about

[bussyyeukie]

Fresh Meat p.2

(butcher!simon x student!reader)

part one. part two.

Your shoes crunched under the loose branches and earth as you walked. It was a very familiar path you'd take nearly every day on your morning walks. The ground was hugged with fog and your hands were firmly in your pockets, the old lady you rented from had called you the other day. It wasn’t the first time you’d spoken to her but it was not something that happened often. She’d go quiet every now and then and you’d hear the shuffling of walkers and beeping of machines in the background. She’d repeat a question and then interrupt you mid answer.

Not that you minded, it was obvious she wasn’t all there and honestly you don’t think she could really hear that you were answering. After about 10 minutes of an old lady rambling and odd updates on her health, she’d asked you a favor. Suddenly much more coherent, she’d asked if you could keep her collection going. Bones, stones, dead things, bugs–that sort of collection. Said she’d hate to see the house lose its touch. Although you’d argue that most wouldn’t step foot inside that house if they knew what was in there.

It piqued your interest, you’d picked up a few things here and there on your morning walks but nothing big, and nothing remotely as interesting as what she’d already had in her home. But you agreed, it would give you something to do while you were job hunting and working on your classes work-load. Minorly (very) jealous when you’d been emailed a picture of your old dissection team working on a new body the lab got–everyone smiling and you had to close your computer for the rest of the day when you realized what a shut-in you'd become.

You’d hadn’t even been to your favorite butcher in two weeks, granted you’d not been cooking meals, mostly living off muffins and coffee and whatever you happened to leave on your bedside table. 

Warm breath huffing into the cold air, your heart hammering a little harder.

You've gone to the butcher once a week for about two months now. Not sure if you’d consider Simon a friend but he was close enough to one that you missed him. Of course the fact that he was a near perfect specimen to you didn’t help much, or that he listened to your ramblings, or that he gave you good cuts nearly free, or that he was hot. Really hot. 

Shaking your head of the thought you groaned, shouldn’t get those types of fantasies in your head, it never worked out well. Once you convinced yourself this boy in your class had a crush on you–turned out he was just spooked and thought you were freaky. He had obviously said no when you’d asked him out. Easy to tell you didn’t date much, and that experience didn’t help your confidence on the subject.

Glancing to your feet you paused your steps, holding a steady pace till now, following the trail that led through the woods behind your home. You spotted a nice femur of something. Almost polished clean, minus the dirt.

You pulled out a ziplock you had in your pocket and picked it up, the weight of it heavy in your palm. Glancing over it with a smile.

“I’m sure that old bat will figure out something with this,” you giggled to yourself. Then licked your lips as you looked around, only a few feet off the trail, very unworried about getting lost or anything like that. Plus you’d walked this path for months, surely you’d know where you were going at least a little bit. Stepping further off the trail you brushed your hand along the thick, mossy trees surrounding you. It was scary quiet except for you. 

For your light puffs of air, nose cold, for your shoes (socks now damp) crunching along the mud and the sticks forming the ground under your feet. The shifting of your clothing, fabric rustling against fabric.

Your eyes raked the ground, a few small bones lay before you but you were looking for something bigger, no use holding pocket space for a bunch of random mouse tibias and ribs.

Breath hitching slightly as you heard a loud snap around you. 

You perked up, head on a swivel, spinning slightly to look at your surroundings. Empty. Nothing but trees, not even a bird.

Licking your lips nervously you looked back to the ground–the trail was still within your vision–and you ventured further into the woods. Grinning when you come across a pelvis, not large enough to concern, and obviously not human the closer you got to it, long and narrow. It was dirty with the ground and the elements, but mostly clean from any gore that would’ve been leftover from a meal.

If you had to guess you’d say it's a deer pelvis, but you didn’t hunt, and you didn’t study animals. So it was really up in the air, but deer seemed like the best guess. 

You looked around to see if any other remnants of a meal laid around, possibly a spine or a few ribs. Tucking some hair out of your face with your free hand, turning your head to peek over your shoulder. The lingering feeling of eyes boring into you was something you couldn’t shake.

It felt, familiar almost, like something you’d experienced before, a weird sense of familiar dread leaking into your gut, dripping down the back of your throat as you expected hands to appear and the heavy feeling of them grabbing onto you.

A shudder ran through you at the thought, smacking your forehead with the butt of your palm to get it out of your head. 

“What the fuck brain,” you grumbled, voice incredibly clear in the air even when whispering, “Why would you think of that?”

Placing the pelvis gingerly in the bag you continued looking, thoughts drifting to Simon…

He would know what animal this came from, he’d probably be able to tell you anything about an animal you'd want to know, you thought about his butchering. The motion of his arm, the wide swing and the harsh collision. The way his muscles tensed and worked perfectly, generating so much power and the way his whole unit seemed to move with a sense of power. Everything he did commanded a sense of respect at the sheer size of him, like hunters not even bothering with a bear too big cause they know they won’t be able to kill it.

Simon was your bear, and you were the foolish deer who kept trying to drink from the stream it was hunting in.

Everytime you entered the shop it was like a heavy blanket fell on you, Simon’s eyes glued, you swore he didn’t blink until you left. Even if conversation was short and typically one sided he was enraptured by everything you said. You’d never seen anyone so engrossed in you.

In the back of your mind it concerned you. You’d never seen him angry but you were sure it was terrifying. The times you’d seen him actually irritated and not just annoyed were scary enough, loud voice snapping orders and meaty fists clenched and threatening. There was a shift in him, like a dog with it’s hackles up, or when a hound would let out a bark that was deeper than normal and put you on edge.

He’d pitched a fit last time you skipped a week, you couldn’t imagine the whining you’d hear this time.

Like a big baby, complaining and asking if someone kept you from coming in, or if something was wrong. Once he offered the meat free as if pricing was the issue, and said you could “Just bloody take the thing, free, if you’re gonna be petty about it…”

You’d rolled your eyes, pinky promising you wouldn't miss the next week, Simon’s cheeks turning peachy when your skin touched. You didn’t know he held his pinky for the rest of the day acting like it was your hand. 

You giggled at the memory, everyone in town thought he was this big stoic butcher but he was just like those big dogs you had as a kid who would whine about everything and just had to fall asleep cuddled up in a blanket with you. No real threat to anyone…well you thought so…

You paused, looking at the animal tracks in front of you, were they animal at all?

Brows pinching as you leaned down to look closer, they didn’t really look like animal tracks, but they definitely weren’t human. Now you didn’t know animals, but you knew enough to distinguish certain tracks–you’d gotten a guide to help you out in the woods. These tracks looked like nothing that was in that book. The fingers were almost too long, with weird claw marks, and the butt of the paw–you think it was a paw anyway–was animalish enough.

A weird stone sat in your stomach, your skin prickling with chills. You didn’t like this at all. Looking around cautiously, you stepped back, finding your way back to the beaten path. 

Jogging a little when you heard some movement in the still woods around you.

A shaky breath leaving you when your feet finally crunched against the path again. It was a safety line in your eyes. Shaking your head slightly and running a cold hand through your hair, beginning on the trek back home.

When you’d made it home, the house was warm and smelled of coffee, a very peaceful scene. Dropping your bag on the kitchen table as you shed some layers, a thin bit of sweat on your skin from the walk. Even with the chilled air surrounding you. The bones rattled against each other as you draped your jackets on the back of the kitchen chair. You started the water in the sink, turning it hot as it went. Letting it run as you rolled the sleeves of your sweater up and headed over to the table, passing by the window of the kitchen that opened to the backyard. Glancing at the thing looking over the fence as you passed the window. Just barely reaching over the fencing.

Hand outstretched to the bag on the table, you froze. Eyes staring at nothing as they widened. Backtracking, movements almost rusty, to the window, peeking out of it hesitantly. You swore you could hear your joints creaking as you moved.

Obviously you were just seeing things, a shadow that spooked you. 

But there was a pit in your stomach that made you second guess, for the life of you, you couldn’t identify what you’d peeked at as you passed. Looking through the window again, you saw nothing. A breath leaving you as you looked at the bare fence lining the yard, and the creatureless backyard. Rubbing your face, pushing hair back away from your forehead you walked back to the table.

“Jesus, I’m getting cabin fever or something,” you muttered to yourself looking at the screaming taxidermy coyote that was on a mount in the living room, which was only about ten feet from you, “What do you think? Is the Creature of the Woods gonna get me?”

You chuckled then let your face fall, snatching up the bag and grumbling.

“Great, now I'm talking to stuffed dead things…”

With a big huff, and your hands on your hips you turned on your heels and opened the cupboard by your feet, pushing around bottles and other cleaning supplies.

“Hm…” frowning a bit you tucked some hair behind your ears, and squinted, shifting on your knees, looking deeper into the cabinet, “Oh you gotta be kidding…”

Plopping back onto your heels and closing the cabinet. 

All out of hydrogen peroxide. You furrowed your brows as you stood, your knees were killing you honestly, creaking more each day. In this weird, freaky house you were being out of hydrogen peroxide. When you’d first moved in it was nearly stock piled.

Snatching up your coat and sloppily throwing it on as you shoved your phone and other such items into the pockets. Bumping the door open and closing it–it was a little tricky, cause you had to lift the handle a bit to get it to latch fully, jiggling the key into the lock.

A weird feeling took you over. The kind that made the hair on the back on your neck stand up and your stomach churn. You almost didn’t want to look behind you.

Turning the key forcefully, you turned around.

Nothing, there was nothing there, obviously there was nothing. What a silly thought to think something was behind you. The walkway up to the house is barren all for some leaves and the slightly overgrown grass.

Rubbing your face and sniffing and putting your keys back in your pocket.

You’d spent the last night watching ghost movies, and had spent the night looking up how spirits pass from one life to the next, and those who get stuck. Which was probably the reason you felt so watched. Not to mention you tended to look for things in places they weren’t.

Conjure up wild theories to things that have a simple explanation.

Many nights kept awake by stray noises, and unsettling dreams.

Even as a child, you were like this, so fascinated by things your mother had said were creepy and scary. Ghouls and creatures. Immersing yourself in the more grotesque side of things, the gory and the broken. Easily pushing yourself into the rabid, sick and the salivating jaws of the unknown.

Even surrounded by people who were interested in anatomy. You seemed to like it in a different way, often being the butt-end of a Frankenstien joke. Although if your masterpiece had been successful, if you’d reanimated a being, you wouldn’t abandon it. “Oh it’s too scary! I don’t like it anymore!” You rolled your eyes at the thought. That was your only critique of those jokes. Not that anyone really cared to listen.

You were sure if you’d been a boy, you’d be institutionalized at some point by your fascinations–you’d never hurt anything, killed animals and all that–but you were often written off as being a “different little girl” who had a vivid imagination.

Your hands snug in your pockets as you walked down the street, heading into town.

As you thought of the ghost stories you’d read up on last night, you wondered about the Creature the locals warned you about, you’d never really taken it seriously, since it was all a bunch of BigFoot type talk. Only a bit more frightening, talks of attacks in the 40’s and stuff like that. Not to mention BigFoot had been debunked in your eyes. Weird accounts of hunting incidents and missing animals.

You believed in that type of stuff, but not blindly. You were an academic afterall, you enjoyed the study and the proving of theories and such–and thinking of school made you think of your school, and your little dissection lab. You did miss it. It was where you’d spent most of your time, going in at early mornings and late nights when other teams requested your help.

Maybe you’d get into taxidermy or something.

“Maggie would like the new additions to her house i’d bet…” you muttered to yourself, giggling a bit. 

It wasn’t a long walk into town, but enough that you’d worked a bit of a sweat around your hairline and on your palms. Watching the townsfolk wander around the streets. Mothers coralling their children, couples hand in hand–swinging their arms, old folk with canes poking at things in their way. 

You turned a corner, heart skipping a beat as you recognized the road, the street the butcher shop was on. The thought of the shop always made your heart beat faster, the thought of seeing Simon excited you to an almost concerning level. Working yourself into a near frenzy typically with how giddy and anxious you’d become.

You didn’t see him on the street, your muscles tight with nerves. You hadn’t been this nervous around someone in a while–you just really wanted that lumbering butcher to like you.

He was the only thing close to a friend you had in this town.

As you get closer to the shop, you subconsciously slow your pace, still no sign on him. As you got closer your foot hit a raise in the ground. Jolting you forward, a gasp leaving you as you steady yourself, snapping your gaze down to your feet. Hair in your face as you finally balance. 

“Christ, fallin' for me already, luv?”

Your breath was sucked into your lungs with a choking sound as you snapped your head up, cheeks burning red and eyes wide as you were met face to face (chest really) with the man in front of you.

Hastily pushing your hair out of your face and grinning with probably too many teeth and chuckled, “O-oh! Simon! Funny, uh, seeing you here!”

He stared at you with a blank stare, softly bringing the half smoldered cigarette up to his lips, his shirt splattered with blood near his shoulders and collar, almost outlining the apron he wore in the shop. His other hand is in the pocket of his jeans. Which had definitely seen better days.

You swallowed nervously, eyes glancing at the cording muscles in his forearm as he dropped it back to his side. His eyes lifeless as ever and his lips pressed against the cig, smoke fluming out his nose.

“I mean,” you chuckled, “You work here, so, it’s not that weird. Or funny…”

He stared at you intensely for a few more seconds, before pulling the cigarette from his mouth with a sharp suck and crackle.

“That ah do,” he didn’t bother looking away to blow the smoke out, licking his teeth, “Where’ve ya bin.”

With your hands clasped behind you, you shrugged, “Eh ya know, got kinda busy recently, my Professor sent like 20 assignments he forgot to grade for the class I TA for, and so I needed to crank those out–oh and then he sent me the wrong key for it, so that was a hassle.”

Simon didn’t react. If you’d been paying more attention you’d realize the way his shoulders tensed and his feet shifted.

“He keepin’ ya busy huh?”

You nodded, “Yeah, it's really lame.”

Simon nodded, placing the cigarette between his lips, which you couldn’t help but feel your eyes linger on. 

“Come in this week,” he grunted out, his voice gravely as he spoke, “Missed ya’ around the shop.”

“Aw really?” you chuckled, perking up, “That’s sweet.”

He shrugged again, “As irritatin' as yer, yer make good convo. Can talk an' 'ear off, woman.”

You deflated a bit, huffing, crossing your arms over your chest, “Well jeez…not like anyone else is gonna.”

He huffed a breath of laughter out his nose, “Tha’s true. Not many are this friendly to their butcha.”

You grinned softly, rolling your eyes, “Forgive me?”

Simon stood silent. Watching you. Sniffing roughly as he tilted his head. 

“Gonna 'ave to put more work inter it than that for me forgiveness, girly,” he dropped the cigarette onto the ground, snuffing it with the toe of his boot.

He turned and walked into his shop, “Aw what? Come on Simon–”

You followed him inside, almost blindly–you would’ve followed him wherever he went, it was empty in the shop. Cold as ever inside, fittingly, as cold as a big freezer. The bell dinging was a sound you didn’t know you found as soothing as you did till you heard it again. The wet smell of raw meat filling your nose, that and the mix of the smoke that lingered around Simon.

He walked behind the counter, reaching down under it, the sound of a latch clicking made you pause. Leaning over the counter the best you could, seeing as it was rather tall, the floor behind it higher than the floor you stood on. You looked back up to Simon, who was staring at you, as he usually was. His gaze locked and unblinking as he grabbed whatever he was looking for. 

He was tall already but behind that counter he looked unreal. Like some mythical giant in a fairytale.

You broke eye contact first, flushed as you looked down to the package he dropped in front of you, neatly wrapped with a pretty bow on top, tied in twine.

Of course it didn’t slip past you the way Simon was more careful with the bow tying on your meat. Like he was trying to impress you with it. But you were more impressed with the meats, the cuts and how he handled it all so professionally. Like it was something he was born to do. To butcher things…

A smile spread across your lips.

“Yours,” he said, almost jerking the word out, “Special for yer, was gonna 'ave a nice cut for last week, but yer never showed.”

Guilt gnawed at the inside of your cheek.

“Sorry Si, really,” you pouted, blinking dramatically as you placed your hands together under your chin, “It looks beautiful.”

He rolled his eyes, looking off to the side, then back to you, “Don’t matter.”

You grabbed the package and placed it in the side pocket of your coat, zipping it back up. The feeling of Simon’s eyes on you as you unzipped made your skin crawl. With unease or excitement you weren’t sure–probably both. 

“I won’t miss next week,” you cleared your throat, watching as he leaned against the counter, biceps pulling at the sleeves of his shirt, “I’ll come in twice.”

Simon seemed pleased with that, humming.

“You been in the woods recently?”

You blinked up at him again, “Yeah! Actually I was there this morning on a walk!”

“I can tell.”

You snorted, “Yeah sure. What–do I have leaves in my hair?”

“I can smell it.”

Now this made you pause, confused. Nose scrunching a bit.

“What?”

You smelled your coat, it didn’t smell any different than it usually did to you. Possibly a little more damp.

“Yer smell like them woods…”

There was a beat of silence between you two, a weird feeling again scraping its nail at the back of your neck.

“Oh, is it bad?”

“No.”

You had no clue what Simon was talking about, maybe he had a really good nose and could smell the trees on you or something. Or he’d been here so long he could smell native plants, surely you’d walked through some on your trek. Or maybe you just really smelled like mud and dew…

“You shouldn’t go out there alone, dangerous for someone like you.”

Shrugging, you waved him off, “I’m plenty safe, I stay on the paved trail, and I carry a pocket knife.”

Simon didn’t say anything, tapping his finger like he was thinking. 

“Call me next time you want to go out there, I’ll take you.”

Your heart jumped. Call him? Like, so he could come out? To walk with you? Anytime you wanted?

“R-really?”

Your tongue felt stuck as you spoke. 

“I wouldn’t offer if I weren’t serious,” Simon scoffed, he held out his hand, “Give it ta me.”

Snapping into action, you dove into your pocket, pulling out your phone, handing it to him, shakier than he was as he held his steady hand out. You’d never really thought about him having a phone before, it seemed so out of place.

“Thank you, that’s…sweet,” you’d never felt more awkward. Watching him type on your phone, it looked so small in his hands. Your stomach flipping as you thought about it, watched his fingers and the twitching of his forearm as he moved.

He set it down on the counter.

“Buncha shit in them woods, animals an' idiots alike.”

You nodded, looking at the screen, it just read his name–no last name, or emojis or anything, just ‘Simon’.

“I'll definitely let you know next time I’m heading out there,” you smiled, “No one will mess with me if I have a damn bear lingering around.”

Simon’s lips twitched into a soft smile.

You glanced at the time, sucking in air between your teeth.

“Shit, I gotta go, those papers need to be turned in like an hour,” you put your phone back in your pocket and took a step back–hesitating, “I…thank you, really…”

“Don’t mention it,” Simon shifted, going from leaning on his elbows to his palms. Shoulders were broad and thick as he settled.

“I’ll text you soon, save my number!”

You forced your feet up as you exited the shop, each step felt like you were walking on glue. You didn’t want to leave, as strange as the conversation was there was something about Simon that was addicting to you. You wished every talk was hours longer, every brush of your hands was stronger. You could always feel the staring, it was hard not to notice since he was always staring.

Even as you closed the door behind you, you could feel his stare burn into your back, then your face as you threw him a wave.

He sent a stiff one back, and disappeared into the back of his shop.

[earthlybeam]

Requested by @morganas-pendragons

The elves reacting to the different types of kisses (forehead, cheek, jaw, wrist elven ear, nose, shoulder, lips...)

Celebrimbor version below. enjoy Gurlie as you love Celebrimbor 😉❤️‍🔥🫶✨ (I’m still working on Gil-galad one)

💍𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓫𝓸𝓻

Forehead Kiss

The forge had grown quiet, the rhythmic clanging of metal replaced by the soft crackle of embers in the hearth. Celebrimbor sat on a low bench near the fire, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. His long fingers, so skilled and steady, were now laced together tightly, betraying the weight of his unspoken thoughts. Shadows played across his face, accentuating the lines of exhaustion etched into his features.

You approached him silently, your footsteps muffled against the stone floor, and rested your hand gently on his arm. He didn’t move at first, lost in the labyrinth of his mind, but when you stepped in front of him, his silver eyes lifted to meet yours. There was a flicker of weariness in them, mixed with a quiet gratitude he couldn’t quite put into words.

Without speaking, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, letting your lips linger just long enough to feel his tension ease beneath the touch. His breath hitched softly, his eyes fluttering closed as if savoring the moment. He leaned into you, resting his brow against your chest, and his hands rose instinctively. One cupped your face, his calloused thumb brushing tenderly along your cheek, while the other settled on your shoulder with a grounding weight.

“You steady my heart,” he murmured, his voice a soft, fragile thing in the quiet forge. His fingers tightened ever so slightly, as if anchoring himself to you. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” You stayed there for a moment, the warmth of the fire on your back and the steady rhythm of his breathing against you. In that small bubble of peace, the burdens of the world seemed far away, and the ever-dedicated smith allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability, resting in the quiet reassurance of your love.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Cheek Kiss

The forge buzzed with energy as Celebrimbor bent over his workbench, utterly engrossed in his latest project. The mithril necklace before him glittered under the soft light, its intricate filigree design nearing perfection. His brow furrowed in concentration, and he muttered to himself about symmetry and balance, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

His focus was unshakable, his quill poised midair as he examined the delicate etching in front of him. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him like this—completely lost in his craft, his silver hair falling messily around his face. Stepping quietly behind him, you leaned in and pressed a quick, playful kiss to his cheek.

The reaction was instant. His quill stilled mid-stroke, and his shoulders stiffened momentarily before he turned his head to look at you, his expression shifting from surprise to warmth. A faint blush crept across his pale cheeks, his lips parting slightly as though you’d momentarily stolen all coherent thought from him.

A soft, unguarded smile curved his lips, and he chuckled under his breath, the sound warm and laced with affection. “Always so sweet with your gestures,” he murmured, setting the quill down carefully as if this moment mattered more than even his most delicate work.

He stood and turned to face you fully, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer. The calluses on his palms brushed against the fabric of your tunic, grounding and gentle all at once. His silver eyes sparkled with a teasing light, though there was no mistaking the adoration behind them.

“But I warn you,” he continued, his voice soft yet laced with amusement, “distracting me like that is dangerous work.” He leaned in, his lips brushing yours briefly before pulling back, his smile widening. “You may find yourself entirely at my mercy if you’re not careful.” His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, the world beyond the forge ceased to exist. There was only the warmth of his touch, the deep timbre of his voice, and the love that radiated from him like the faint glow of mithril under firelight.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Lips Kiss

The late evening light spilled through the open window of the forge, its golden hues mingling with the soft glow of the hearthfire, casting a warm, almost ethereal light over Celebrimbor. He stood by his workbench, shoulders heavy with exhaustion but his hands still steady as they gently polished the edge of a newly forged blade. His focus was unwavering, but you could see the toll his work had taken on him—the faint circles under his eyes, the weariness etched into the lines of his face.

“Celebrimbor,” you called softly, stepping closer. He didn’t respond at first, too absorbed in his task, but at the touch of your hand on his arm, he froze. Slowly, he turned to you, his silver eyes lifting to meet yours. There was something disarming in the way his gaze softened the moment he saw you, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips as if you had brought a moment of peace into his ever-busy mind.

“You’ve been working too hard,” you murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. The faint touch made him sigh, his shoulders losing just a fraction of their tension.

He caught your hand, holding it as if it were the most fragile thing in the world, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His gaze lingered on you—your eyes, your lips, every detail of your face—as if committing you to memory. Slowly, with an almost reverent pause, he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was unhurried, deliberate, like he was pouring his heart into the act. His hands slid up to cradle your face, his touch firm yet tender, grounding you in the moment. His lips moved with a gentle rhythm, as though each movement was meant to reassure you, to communicate a love he sometimes struggled to put into words.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his breath came in soft, uneven sighs. His hands didn’t leave your face, his thumbs tracing gentle circles along your cheekbones as if reluctant to let go.

“You make my world brighter,” he whispered, his voice raw and filled with emotion, his lips brushing yours again in a featherlight caress. “You are my brightest star, my light in the darkness.” For that moment, the weight of his responsibilities, the forge, and the dangers of the world melted away, leaving only the warmth of your embrace and the quiet intimacy shared between you.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Elven ears kiss

The cool night air drifted across the balcony, carrying the faint scents of Eregion’s gardens mingled with the distant smoke of Khazad-dûm’s forges. The stars gleamed like diamonds above, their pale light mirrored in Celebrimbor’s silver-gray eyes. He sat beside you, his posture uncharacteristically relaxed, though the faint crease between his brows told you his mind was still caught on his endless toils.

You studied him quietly, the way his sharp features softened in the starlight, his hand resting idly on the stone ledge beside him. Even in this rare moment of peace, there was an aura of quiet intensity about him—a man whose thoughts were never far from his craft or his duties. Reaching out, you brushed your fingers over the back of his hand, drawing his attention. His gaze shifted to you, and as he met your eyes, the tension in his expression eased. His lips curved into a faint smile, the kind that was reserved only for you, and his hand turned to intertwine with yours.

“You always know how to bring me back,” he murmured, his voice low, warm, and filled with quiet gratitude. A playful glint sparked in your chest at his words. Tilting your head, you leaned in, pressing your lips to the delicate tip of his ear. The warmth of your breath lingered, deliberate and teasing, against the sensitive skin. The reaction was immediate, visceral. Celebrimbor’s entire body stiffened, his breath catching sharply as a shudder ran through him. His silver eyes fluttered shut, his head tilting slightly as though caught between retreating from the overwhelming sensation and leaning into it.

A soft, breathless gasp escaped his lips, followed by a low, uncharacteristic groan that sent warmth pooling in your chest. His hand shot up, gripping your arm tightly as though anchoring himself, while the other rested firmly on your hip. His flushed cheeks stood out starkly in the moonlight, and his breathing turned uneven.

“Vanya…” he breathed, his voice unsteady as he whispered the Elvish word for “beautiful.” His usual eloquence seemed to fail him, leaving him vulnerable, his composure crumbling in the most captivating way. Smiling, you leaned in again, this time brushing your lips slowly along the sensitive curve of his ear. His breath hitched, his grip on your arm tightening as another tremor coursed through him. His fingers splayed against your waist, pulling you closer, as his free hand moved to rest at the nape of your neck. “Cala nórelya,” (light of my life) he murmured through uneven breaths—“You will undo me.” His voice was a mix of playful reproach and raw affection, though it cracked slightly, betraying the intensity of the moment.

When you finally drew back, his eyes blinked open, clouded with emotion, the silver depths reflecting a potent mix of love and longing. He pulled you close, wrapping both arms tightly around you, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. You could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his breath against your skin. For a long moment, he simply held you, his composure gradually returning as he basked in the closeness you shared. When he finally pulled back, his smile was soft and unguarded, a rare and breathtaking sight. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin.

“I should warn you,” he murmured, his voice low and husky as his lips ghosted over your temple. “Such power in your hands could be the ruin of me, my love.” Though his tone carried a teasing edge, the depth of the emotion in his gaze was undeniable. And as he held you, his body still trembling faintly in the aftermath of your touch, you knew there was no place in all of Arda where he would rather be.

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Nose Kiss

The soft morning light filtered through the windows of Celebrimbor’s study, painting the room in shades of gold and amber. The air was warm and still, broken only by the faint scratch of his quill against parchment. He was hunched over his worktable, silver-gray eyes focused intently on the intricate designs he was sketching. His brow furrowed slightly in concentration, and yet, despite the weight of his meticulous work, there was a calm serenity about him.

You watched him for a moment from the doorway, a soft smile curling on your lips at how deeply immersed he was in his craft. You stepped closer, your footsteps quiet against the stone floor. “Still working?” you teased lightly, leaning against the edge of his table.

Celebrimbor glanced up, his gaze lifting from the delicate curves of mithril designs to meet yours. The faint lines of tension in his expression softened instantly, replaced by a gentle warmth in his silver eyes. “When inspiration strikes, it does not wait,” he replied, a faint chuckle in his voice. The corners of his mouth quirked in that almost-smile that always made your heart flutter.

You leaned over, pretending to inspect the sketches in front of him. The lines were precise, almost impossibly so, a testament to his unparalleled skill. But your true intent wasn’t to admire his work. Instead, you tilted your head and leaned in closer, pressing a light, playful kiss to the tip of his nose.

The reaction was immediate and utterly endearing. Celebrimbor blinked in surprise, his quill stilling mid-air as his lips parted slightly. A quiet chuckle escaped him, warm and unrestrained, as his hand reached up to brush softly against your cheek. “A bold move,” he murmured, his voice low and tinged with amusement. Despite his playful tone, a faint flush colored his pale cheeks, betraying the delight your gesture brought him.

Before you could pull away, he leaned forward, tilting his head slightly to meet yours. His nose brushed against yours in an affectionate nuzzle, the gesture so tender that it left your heart aching. His laughter was soft and warm, wrapping around you like a gentle embrace. “You make me feel so young again,” he said, his voice carrying a rare note of unguarded joy. For a moment, the weight of his responsibilities—the forge, the guild, the growing demands of his people—seemed to melt away. All that remained was the golden morning light, the quiet warmth between you, and the love that shone brightly in his eyes.

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Shoulder Kiss

The evening was quiet, the gardens of Ost-in-Edhil bathed in soft silver moonlight. The stars above seemed impossibly close, their faint glow shimmering like scattered diamonds against the darkened sky. The scent of blooming flowers drifted through the air, mingling with the cool breeze that rustled through the leaves.

Celebrimbor sat beside you on a wide stone bench, his arm draped loosely around your shoulders. His other hand rested on his knee, fingers occasionally tracing idle patterns against the fabric of his robes. For once, the master smith’s hands were still—no tools, no sketches, no heavy hammer strokes breaking the quiet.

His silver eyes gazed out over the moonlit blooms, his expression relaxed but distant. You could tell his mind lingered on his work, even in this rare moment of rest. The faint crease in his brow and the way his fingers twitched betrayed the thoughts that refused to leave him.

Shifting slightly, you leaned closer, resting your head against his shoulder. The tension in his body seemed to ease at your touch, his gaze flickering down to you as a soft, almost shy smile curved his lips. Without a word, you tilted your head and pressed a gentle kiss to the curve of his shoulder, just where the fabric of his robe parted slightly to reveal his skin. The kiss was light, but it carried with it all the affection and comfort you felt for him.

Celebrimbor froze for a moment, his breath catching at the unexpected gesture. Slowly, his silver eyes softened, the faint crease in his brow disappearing as the meaning of your touch sank in. With a quiet sigh, he tightened his arm around you, pulling you closer as if to shield you from the world.

His head lowered, and he brushed his forehead against your temple, his voice breaking the stillness. “I feel whole with you beside me,” he whispered, his words a quiet confession of gratitude and love. You felt his cheek rest against your hair as he breathed deeply, as though trying to memorize the moment—the scent of the flowers, the warmth of your presence, and the comfort of your touch. His hand drifted to rest lightly over yours, his thumb brushing small circles over your skin.

In that moment, there was no forge, no looming responsibility, no shadow of the burdens he carried. There was only you and the unshakable bond that held him steady. The faintest smile tugged at his lips as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You are my peace,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, but you heard it clearly. It was a truth he carried deep in his heart, one he rarely allowed himself to say aloud—but tonight, he gave it freely.

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Hand Kiss

The forge had grown silent, the once-roaring flames reduced to a low, flickering glow that cast long shadows on the stone walls. The faint scent of smelted metal and burning coals lingered in the air as Celebrimbor stood by the window, his tall frame outlined by the pale light of the moon. His hands rested on the sill, their calloused surfaces illuminated by the silvery glow, and his gaze was distant, lost in the quiet contemplation that often followed his long hours of crafting.

You approached him softly, your footsteps almost soundless on the stone floor. He didn’t turn right away, but you saw the faintest shift in his shoulders, a sign that he was aware of your presence. When you came close enough, his silver eyes flickered to you, and the lines of weariness on his face softened.

Without a word, you reached for his hand. It was warm from hours near the forge, rough and textured from centuries of work. You held it carefully, cradling it as if it were something delicate despite the strength it bore. Celebrimbor stilled, his breath catching as he watched you bring his hand to your lips.

When your lips pressed a tender kiss to the rough skin of his palm, he exhaled a slow, uneven breath. His fingers twitched, curling ever so slightly as though trying to hold onto the sensation. For a moment, he simply stared at you, his silver eyes wide with unspoken emotion. There was no trace of his usual composure, only quiet reverence and a vulnerability that made the moment feel achingly intimate.

He raised his free hand, cupping yours with a gentleness that belied his strength. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lifted your hand to his own lips. The kiss he placed on your knuckles was lingering and deliberate, his warm breath ghosting over your skin as his eyes stayed locked on yours.

“These hands have forged much,” he murmured, his voice low and weighted with emotion, “but none of it as precious as the love we share.” His thumb brushed over the back of your hand in slow, soothing circles, as if trying to ground himself in your touch. The way he looked at you—soft, open, utterly unguarded—made your heart ache in the most beautiful way. In that moment, it wasn’t his legacy, his craft, or his burdens that defined him. It was the love you shared, the quiet connection that made him feel seen in a way no one else ever had.

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Wrist Kiss

The workshop was dim and tranquil, the embers of the forge casting a faint orange glow that flickered across the walls. The scent of heated metal and the faint tang of oil filled the room, mingling with the quiet hum of the evening. Celebrimbor sat at his workbench, his posture relaxed yet focused as his long fingers moved with precision over a piece of delicate filigree. The faint scrape of tools against metal was the only sound, until your footsteps brought a soft rhythm to the quiet.

You stepped behind him, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. He paused, his fingers stilling as he leaned slightly into your touch. When he tilted his head to look at you, his silver eyes were warm, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Am I being summoned away from my work again?” he teased gently, though there was no annoyance in his tone. If anything, it was laced with affection. Instead of answering, you slid your hand down his arm, taking his hand in yours. He let you guide it, his movements slow and curious as his eyes followed your every gesture. Holding his hand delicately, you lifted it toward your lips, brushing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin of his wrist.

The reaction was instantaneous and visceral. Celebrimbor’s breath hitched audibly, his shoulders stiffening as a visible shiver coursed through him. His eyes fluttered closed, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. When he opened them again, they glimmered with something unspoken, a mix of awe and vulnerability that made your heart ache.

The soft skin of his wrist, rarely touched and sensitive from years of meticulous crafting, seemed to heighten the intimacy of the moment. His free hand rose to cradle yours, his thumb brushing over the delicate veins beneath your skin as though tracing the lifeline that sustained you.

“You…” he began, his voice catching slightly as he paused to steady himself. His tone, when he spoke again, was quiet and reverent. “You remind me how fragile yet strong love can be.” His fingers tightened slightly around yours, not with urgency, but with a quiet, grounding need to hold onto the moment. He set his tools aside, turning his body toward you fully as if to give you his undivided attention.

Slowly, he guided you closer, his hand slipping to your lower back as he brought you to sit beside him on the workbench’s edge. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. He simply held your hand, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your wrist as though he couldn’t bear to stop touching you. His expression was open, soft, filled with a tenderness that few ever got to see.

“You do more than remind me to stop working,” he murmured eventually, a small, almost wistful smile crossing his lips. “You remind me to live.” In your kiss, he had felt more than affection; he had felt trust, warmth, and the weight of a love so deep it could sustain him through even the darkest days. The intimacy of it lingered, leaving him utterly enchanted and more deeply connected to you than ever.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Jawline kiss

The air in the forge was thick with the mingling scents of hot metal and the earthy undertones of ancient stone, yet a soft tranquility hung over the room. The rhythmic hum of the forge had quieted to a low murmur, and the distant clang of hammer on anvil barely registered as Celebrimbor stood hunched over his workbench. His long fingers traced the delicate etching of a bracelet with meticulous care, his silver-gray eyes narrowed in deep concentration. The flickering glow from the nearby hearth cast long shadows across his face, emphasizing the sharp angles and proud demeanor of his features. He was unaware of your presence until you stepped up behind him, your quiet approach undetected amidst the quiet pulse of the room.

With gentle, deliberate steps, you moved closer until you were only inches away. You could feel the heat emanating from him, the warmth of his body filling the space. Without warning, you leaned in, brushing your lips lightly along the edge of his jawline. The tenderness of your kiss caught him completely off guard, and his breath hitched in his chest. His fingers froze mid-motion, the metalwork momentarily forgotten as a shiver ran through him, the soft touch of your lips igniting something deeper inside.

For a long heartbeat, he was still—his heart racing faster than he would admit. He turned his head, eyes meeting yours with a flicker of surprise and something that bordered on vulnerability. His usually composed voice faltered, a breathless quality seeping through. “Teasing me, are you?” His lips quirked into a playful smirk, the rare warmth in his eyes making him seem less the stoic smith and more the man who was utterly undone by you.

His hand rose slowly, a movement that was almost reverent, and he cupped your cheek in his calloused palm, brushing a thumb tenderly across your skin. He pulled you gently towards him, your foreheads meeting with a soft touch. “I will never grow tired of these little surprises,” he whispered, his voice thick with affection, warmth, and something more—a deep, unspoken desire.

The playful edge in his tone remained, but there was a sincerity beneath it, one that only you could draw out. His lips brushed lightly over your forehead, and you could feel the smile on his lips against your skin, the rare, unguarded joy he found in your company.

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Temple kiss

The glow of the hearth was the only light in the room now, casting a soft, flickering warmth that contrasted with the growing coolness of the night air outside. Celebrimbor sat in a wide, plush chair beside the fire, his broad shoulders and tall frame relaxed, but his eyes—those silver-gray eyes—were fixed intently on the flames as they danced and crackled in the hearth. His posture, typically so precise, had softened in the quiet of the evening, though there was still an air of gentle tension around him.

You sat beside him, your body close but not touching, savoring the stillness of the moment. The world outside was asleep, and in this brief quiet, you could hear nothing but the crackle of the fire and the soft beat of your own heart. You knew, though, that Celebrimbor’s mind rarely found peace, even in the stillness of such moments. But he was here, with you.

After a long silence, you leaned in, your lips brushing delicately against his temple. The soft, intimate pressure of your kiss on that sensitive spot sent a shiver through him. For a brief moment, his eyes fluttered closed, his breath catching in his throat as his body responded instinctively to the unexpected tenderness. The temple, often a place of sharp focus and thought, was now the site of a quiet vulnerability—a place where he allowed himself to soften, just for you.

His hand moved, fingers brushing over yours as he rested them over the top of your hand, pressing it gently to his chest. He leaned into the touch, a quiet sigh escaping him as the weight of the day seemed to slip away. “You are a quiet storm, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and filled with affection.

There was a teasing lilt in his tone, but it was undercut by the depth of the emotion there. His hair brushed against your cheek as he leaned his head against yours, his breath warm and steady in the close proximity. “But I could get lost in these moments with you forever.” His words were soft, almost as if he were speaking to himself, as if the act of simply being with you in this quiet moment was a luxury he rarely allowed himself. His arm subtly encircled your

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Back of the neck kiss

The study was bathed in the soft golden light of a nearby fire, the shadows in the room flickering and dancing across the stone walls. Celebrimbor sat at his large oak desk, the room filled with the faint, soothing scratch of his quill as it moved across the parchment before him. His silver-gray eyes were narrowed in concentration, brows furrowed in a way that spoke of the weight of his thoughts. The work at hand was important, but you could tell that even in his focus, a part of him was still burdened by the ever-present duties that came with his position.

The quiet hum of the fire seemed to magnify the stillness of the room, but you entered soundlessly, your steps soft against the stone floor. As you moved closer, the warmth of his presence wrapped around you, drawing you in with a sense of quiet comfort.

Celebrimbor was unaware of your approach, too absorbed in the world of ink and parchment before him. Without a sound, you leaned in, your lips grazing the tender skin at the back of his neck. The sensation was immediate and electric, sending a rush of warmth through his body, breaking the focus he had so carefully maintained. For a split second, he froze—his quill halting midair, the subtle tremor in his fingers a sign of the effect your simple kiss had on him.

A soft, shuddering breath escaped him, and you could feel the heat of his skin as he slowly turned his head to meet your gaze. The silver of his eyes shimmered in the firelight, caught somewhere between surprise and admiration, as though you had revealed a part of him he didn’t often let others see. His lips curved into a slight smirk, the familiar confident composure returning, but now laced with a tenderness that only you could draw out.

“Such a subtle attack,” he murmured, his voice laced with both amusement and something deeper—an appreciation for the unexpected intimacy of your gesture. His hand came up slowly, his long fingers stilling the quill before he placed it gently on the desk, his attention now fully on you. His lips parted as he spoke again, the words carrying an affectionate weight, “Do you know the power you wield over me?”

His voice was thick with something more than simple teasing. There was a vulnerability in his tone, one that you rarely heard, a depth that he only revealed when he was in your presence. He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxing, as if the sudden surge of affection had momentarily lifted the invisible weight he had carried for so long.

You moved closer, and without a second thought, he cupped the sides of your face with both hands, pulling you in towards him. His touch was gentle yet firm, as though he was claiming you, pulling you into his world of quiet strength and unspoken emotion. His lips brushed against your forehead, a soft, tender gesture that spoke volumes.

“You always know just where to place your touch,” he murmured, his voice now a whisper that seemed to tremble with a rare kind of longing. He pressed his lips to your forehead again, lingering there, a slow exhale escaping him as he absorbed the quiet moment. “It drives me mad.”

His words, thick with both affection and desire, sent a wave of warmth through you. The composure that he so often held—so tightly—was slipping away, and in its place was a man undone by the simple, intimate affection you gave him. His hands gently cupped the back of your neck, his thumbs brushing across your skin in a motion that was both soothing and intimate.

In that moment, his armor of emotional distance seemed to vanish completely, leaving only the raw honesty of how much you affected him. He had always been strong, composed, and carefully guarded, but now, in the quiet intimacy of the moment, he was entirely yours—vulnerable, tender, and completely unafraid. Your kiss had shattered the walls he had built so carefully, and it was clear that, for him, this moment was as much about you as it was about letting go of everything he carried.

“Never have I been so grateful for a tease,” he whispered against your forehead, his voice thick with emotion. His lips brushed against your skin again, and you could feel the pulse of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. There was nothing but this—this closeness, this shared vulnerability—and in it, both of you felt an undeniable connection that transcended words.

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

Is there a story you despise but whose worldbuilding you like?

Bro so many. I could never list all of them if I tried. Part of what fascinates me about bad books is seeing the lost potential and reverse engineering better stories in my own imagination.

Short list:

I love everything about the dragons of A Song of Ice and Fire. Don’t actually despise the series, a lot of it is very good, it’s just not my cup of tea. But the dragons, man. Nuclear bombs that are your pets. Special but subtle magic bonds. No matter how close those bonds are, no one can ever fully control them. They never stop growing. The implication that they aren’t naturally occurring animals and were in fact created artificially via lost magic. The weird fucked up cultural practices that developed believing it would keep them connected to dragons. The implication that that magic wiped out the empire that created them because they were never satisfied with their already unmatched power.

Bad YA book called Shiver about werewolves whose transformations were tired to temperature as opposed to the moon or their emotions. Shame the book around that interesting concept sucks ass.

The lore of Genshin Impact is super interesting. There used to be tones of gods but most died off in a war with each other. The surviving gods each have a country that they exercise varying degrees of control over, some ruling directly, some indirectly, some just kind of being around. Each country’s culture is shaped by its god’s values and personal hang ups. The gods nuked one atheist country into oblivion. The gods let a handful of designated cool people have elemental powers if they want them bad enough. My personal headcanon is that it’s only socially acceptable to dress differently from the norm when you are a designated cool person, explaining the incredibly drag copy-pasted npcs. Used to play the game but realized I wasn’t having fun, i was doing busywork so i could earn gambling points, so I stopped.

Stephenie Meyer’s The Host is about a race of body-snatching aliens who travel the universe “peacefully” conquering planets and “improving” the cultures of their hosts. One host ends up not being fully dead when a new alien is inserted and so the alien learns that taking people’s free will is bad. Genuinely fantastic sci-fi premise that could have opened the doors for a critique of colonialism and assimilation, or just a fun romp, but because it’s from the author of Twilight all the attention goes towards a love triangle/trapezoid that’s also deeply uncomfortable.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Ok I am back and no more coherent than i was last night but this was incredible and can I say first off that I appreciate immensely the fact you included so many of the lads (and Marge!!) not just the most main beloved ones. Second- the sheer accuracy? For the ones I’ve given thought to myself *cough* your scenarios resonated so hard as being such a given for each of them while the one’s I hadn’t thought about I read while at the edge of my seat knowing the oracle was speaking and now- can’t change my mind, that’s how Jack Kidd eats pussy.

Specifically died at not the suggestion of Egan’s delighted messiness but the way you described it. Also Gale and face sitting go together like bread and butter and I love the agenda being spread. Really made a weird noise about desperate Robert Rosenthal that… was… well, let’s say I wasn’t prepared. I will be next time he needs me, thanks to you. HARRY CROSBY getting his dues and a munch award! Bless. Genuinely been a little dreamy for Bubbles lately but with no clear definition and dang, you sure colored in the lines for me I’m down bad. Amazing. aaaand Crank?! Mind blown. Again, love and appreciate how you wrote for so many of them. Made my night 🥰

────── ౨ৎ kinkmas 2024

preferences - oral (fem!receiving)

characters: john 'bucky' egan, gale 'buck' cleven, marjorie 'marge' spencer, curtis 'curt' biddick, robert 'rosie' rosenthal, harry crosby, joseph 'bubbles' payne, james douglass, everett blakely, howard 'hambone' hamilton, john brady, ken lemmons, bernard 'benny' demarco, charles 'crank' cruikshank, jack kidd

౨ৎ — John 'Bucky' Egan

Oh he’s a wild ride. Whether you’re on top or he has you on your back or John gets on his knees for you, he doesn’t have a preference as long as he can get his mouth on you. He knows how to make you melt in a handful of heartbeats but he also likes to tease and draw things out. Bucky keeps his tongue flat and licks long stripes and really makes you squirm for it before he really starts eating you out. If you let him, he's not holding back, he’s noisy and sloppy, making a mess between your thighs before pulling away to admire his work just long enough to get you restless again only to then dive back in. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that John Egan can and will go down on you at any given opportunity.

౨ৎ — Gale 'Buck' Cleven

Sit. On. His. Face. Sit on it. He’s got that beautiful face and those plush pink lips that were made to eat somebody out. It would be a crime not to let him get that mouth on you. He has the tendency to let his hands wander up and down your thighs and calves, trailing his fingers across your skin, cupping your ass and urging you to not hold back and really ride his mouth. Lovely nose to grind against. Even though you’ll end up a downright mess, a half melted puddle of satisfaction, he makes sure you’re all cleaned up. Not a fan of kissing you after until he’s at least cleaned himself up a little bit. Gale is not too noisy when he eats you out but he tends to hum and you swear you can feel the vibrations of it in your fingertips. 

౨ৎ — Marjorie 'Marge' Spencer

She’s real sweet with it. Enthusiastic. Likes to start off with just touching you (or the two of you touching each other) before she goes down on you. Get you excited for her. A lot of kissing, lots of skin contact, she just wants to be close to you before slowly working her way down your body. Can’t really use her fingers to help out since she likes to keep her nails long but she does what she can, thumbing at your clit with the pads of her fingers and holding you open for her so that she can lick you better. When you get close to falling over the edge she’ll just pull away and smile up at you, telling you that you can hold on for her just a little bit longer.

౨ৎ — Curtis 'Curt' Biddick

He’s a mouthy guy, of course he’s good with his mouth. On top of that he has no issues getting on his knees in front of you and sticking his head under your skirt whenever your dirty little heart desires. He keeps his hands busy, playing with the lacy tops of your stockings or teasing his fingers where he’s tonguing into you. When you come he licks you through it but things only veer into overstimulation occasionally. If you don’t have a handkerchief he might wipe his face on your underskirt. When the two of you can take your time he can make your thighs shake like they should.

౨ৎ — Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

When Rosie’s really needy for it there’s little holding him back. He’d get on his knees for you so fast, not even waiting for you to get undressed, and just hike one of your legs over his shoulder so that he can get his mouth on you. But when he can properly take his time he’ll draw it out until he’s had his fill. Lays you out and makes you see stars. Just languidly lapping at you while he slowly eases his fingers into you. Rosie’s just a touch too soft, a little too gentle, but he won’t let you hurry him along. You can try and get yourself off against his mouth but he’ll just put one of those gentle arms across your hips and hold you steady while he continues his sweet torture. That mustache…

౨ৎ — Harry Crosby

Theee munch of the 100th. I’m sorry. You can’t deny it. That scene was HOT (and we’ll not be speaking about the morality of it) and there is not a single doubt in my mind that Harry eats pussy for his pleasure. If you’re in a hurry his talented mouth can have you falling apart before you know it but if he has the time? Best believe this man takes his time. If he didn’t love oral so much he might be better at teasing but nobody better introduce him to the idea of edging. Harry’s a bit of a biter but he keeps that to your thighs (or clothes). Knows how to navigate all the right spots that will leave your thighs shaking long after he’s done with you.

౨ৎ — Joseph 'Bubbles' Payne

He might be an expert navigator but Bubbles sure knows how to get lost in you. He has a talent for really savoring the time he gets to spend between your thighs, not going slow but drawing it out until you’re begging for him to let you come, only for him to stop swirling his tongue on your clit at the last second before sweet release would’ve washed over you. He’s not doing it to be mean, he just wants to keep going a little longer. Can and absolutely has come from grinding his hard cock into the mattress while eating you out. 10/10 whimpers. But if you don’t want him to do everything by himself and instead tease him too, just ask if you can blow him while he puts his mouth on you. Loves a good 69.

౨ৎ — James Douglass

Whenever James gets the privilege of putting his mouth on you he makes sure you’ll see stars. Absolutely loves having his mouth on you and is unashamed of it. Any morning you allow him to wake you up with his hot mouth is a good morning. Let him kiss his way down your body until he can taste you. Always gives you a little kiss to the top of your underwear before easing them down your legs. His nose>. Dougie will press a kiss to either side of your inner thighs before guiding them around his head. Let’s you chase your pleasure any way that you like but you’ll have to pull him away by the hair when you’re done. If you give him the chance James will worship you like you deserve.

Sit on his face. As a treat.

౨ৎ — Everett Blakely

Oh he’s got a wicked mouth and he knows just how to use it. Everett will keep his eyes on you the entire time while he makes you feel good. And truly there is no better sight than to see him come up between your legs until his strong hands can hold them open, preventing you from closing them and hiding away from him. He pays a lot of attention to the way your body reacts to his touch and he loves knowing that he’s bringing you so much pleasure. His dirty talk is next level but when his mouth is too busy eating you out then the sounds he makes are just as erotic, even if they’re muffled against your flesh. His moans are beautiful and you swear you can feel them vibrate against your clit. Everett will lick you through it until your back arches and then some. 

౨ৎ — Howard 'Hambone' Hamilton

Can get slightly feral about it but good lord does he know what he’s doing. Hambone is an oral fiend. An aficionado. There are few things he loves half as much as burying his face between your thighs. Big kisser. All over the inside of your thighs and your hips. Your clit. If he can tear himself away from you long enough to talk it’s absolutely filthy. Telling you how pretty she looks and how you’re his favorite meal because you taste so good. He’ll get himself so drunk on you that you’ll barely have to do anything to take care of him after. 

౨ৎ — John Brady

John loves you and wants to please you, of course, but he also believes in keeping your loving fair. Who is he to crave your mouth if he doesn’t put his own to good use? He learned real quick just how good he can make you feel and even though he doesn’t boast about it to the guys he feels a lot of pride in it. At the start he was a little hesitant, unsure about what to do, but nowadays it’s almost second nature to him. Loves to kiss his way down your body before diving in. He’s no longer shy, really licking into you and leaving you shaking, taking the good lord’s name in vain as you wrap your thighs around his head. Best way to start the day if you ask him. Loves it when you get your hands into his hair while he goes down on you.

౨ৎ — Ken Lemmons

When he’s going down on you he likes to start out slow. Leisurely lapping to get you dripping, needy and squirming for him before he pays attention to your clit. Ken does these little kitten licks that drive you half wild. He doesn’t hold back how much he loves it and every little sound he makes echoes through your body, only heightening the sensation of his hot tongue. Not a big fan of eye contact but he likes to hold your hand while he’s going down on you. His hands are rough from all the work he does but they’re so gentle when he touches you.

౨ৎ — Bernard 'Benny' DeMarco

Benny’s a romantic at heart. He doesn’t fuck, he makes love, and that 100% includes oral. He’s sweet with it, peppering feathery light kisses all over the insides of your thighs, starting out with gentle licks to ease you into it.... This man won’t stop unless he has you absolutely dripping. Might give you a finger or two if you beg nicely but usually those are reserved for the second round. Benny could use those strong arms to hold you down but he won’t because having you absolutely writhe against his face just tells him he’s doing a good job. Loves to make eye contact during and that just works best when he has you all properly laid out on a bed (or just horizontal surface, he’s not picky, as long as you’re comfortable) but he has also been known to just get on his knees for you if you’re feeling desperate.

౨ৎ — Charles 'Crank' Cruikshank

Charles is an absolute sweetie. His touch is light and gentle when he parts your legs for him and he never fails to mention how pretty she is. He’ll pull your thighs over his shoulders until they’re wrapped around his head on either side all proper because it helps him focus on you and only you. Takes his time to get you all worked up just by licking at you before getting his mouth on your clit; not to tease you but just because he wants to give you time to get worked up before throwing you over the edge. His curls are so nice to get your fingers tangled in them and Charles lets you just move his head to your heart’s content. His nose is so nice to grind against when he bullies his tongue into you. After you come he works you through it until your legs stop shaking and then gets you all cleaned up. 

౨ৎ — Jack Kidd

He is meticulous to a fault in everything he does and of course that includes bringing you pleasure. You never know what to expect with Jack because he switches things up (lest you become bored) but there’s rarely a time your legs feel strong enough to support you after he is done between them. Keeps a thumb on your clit while he works his tongue so you have that pressure because he’s not letting you writhe yourself against his face, working towards an orgasm. That’s his job. Puts his arms across your hip to keep you motionless against him and it remind you so much of the times when he puts pressure on your abdomen when he fucks you that it sends you spiraling nearly every time. 

Please do both of you a favor and put him out of his misery… just sit on his face. This man needs to relax. Keep him in bed.

[crystallizsch]

hi ian i come bearing angst fuel for the yuusha as twsted elsa (maybe an idea for her possible overblot idk she kinda reads to me as someone whod preemptively isolate in the case she feels...blotty)

(also seeing that art of her playing violin totally didnt fuck me up im still nursing my bruised heart 🥴🥴💕💕)

https://youtu.be/NDldNaEZTt8?si=Wm71pgTltuJLjFvk

^^this is from the frozen musical where they gave a song to elsa to explore her emotional turmoil and it just fleshed out her character so much more than the orig movie (ok i havent seen frozen 2 oops) but just this section here:

Is everyone in danger as long as I'm alive?

Was I a monster from the start?

How did I end up with this frozen heart?

Bringing destruction to the stage

Caught in a war that I was never meant to wage

anyways lmao i jus think the song is neat i think yuushas neat (i wanna see more of her ahehehe i love seeing infodumps abt ur yuus)

-diodellet

(throwback to this “what if yuu had magic” ask where i had a ✨realization✨ and this more recent yuusha lore drop that i gave zero elaboration on 🙃)

very rough ob yuu design??? idk i came up with it on the spot ;;; and it’s kinda based on disney’s concept art of elsa when she was supposed to be the villain.

evil ice queen vibes :3

also i know the ob monster is supposed to be based on the villain— which is elsa in this case— but lowkey. an ice monster is way cooler.

also also i just realized after i drew this i couldve done a grim/yuu tandem overblot ough 🤧🤧 (next time I'll do that instead if i ever go back to this concept)

(read more below because it got SO long)

AAH anyways hi hi dio!!! when i saw your ask i went —

— with this entire post

AAGH HOW MANY MORE UNINTENTIONAL CONNECTIONS ARE GOING TO BE BETWEEN FROZEN AND YUUSHA

i guess watching the movie everyday when it came out when you’re like 9 does something to your brain chemistry (and still haunts you at least a decade later) 💀

but anyways the angst ;;; overblot yuu ;;;;; my brain is rotting and the worms have taken over

also i didn’t even know that there was a frozen broadway musical so im gonna have to check it out later 🏃💨💨💨

(also dont worry frozen 2 is a nice watch for the most part but the way they concluded the characters did not feel 100% satisfying to me 😭 BUT i love some of the songs tho ;;; kristoff’s goofy 80s ballad song is one of them specifically, i need everyone to listen to it)

hfgnnfhfgv anyways thank you so much i’m chugging that angst fuel as i expand more on a possible ob yuusha with another infodump 💪💪💪

⚠️⚠️⚠️ ALSO IM SORRY BUT mentions of taking one’s own life so please proceed with caution ⚠️⚠️⚠️

i had to reread what my initial thoughts about it bc it was months ago??? and after rereading im just like, huh what was i on— (just that feeling when you just cringe at your old posts ;; but idk i think the insanity/cringe sometimes can loop back into being a genius and the cycle just continues)

anyways i’ve been on and off writing yuusha’s bio and overblot yuu was just at the back of my mind chilling but i didn’t really do anything with it.

but now that i have the opportunity,,,, im gonna go on the magicless route this time bc i feel like I've said all what i thought if it was an overblot due to her own magic.

so uh from what i gather overblots are a mix of overuse of magic + intense negative emotion.

since it’s magicless yuu, i guess the one of the general headcanons around the fandom is that they’ve been too exposed to overblots and then intense negative emotions suddenly just triggered their overblot.

uh anyways onto the elsa parts

Is everyone in danger as long as I'm alive? Was I a monster from the start? How did I end up with this frozen heart? Bringing destruction to the stage Caught in a war that I was never meant to wage

THE LYRICS ARE SO GOOD ;;; i really love how some broadway interpretations expand on the source material

and yeah you're right 🤧🤧🤧— yuusha would try to hide and escape, especially as she overblots bc she would try to avoid hurting people (and like elsa, it'd only hurt others more trying to escape bc of probably how she leaves destruction in her wake trying to make others stay away from her 😔)

(this is a small tangent but i remember thinking about an overblot kalim and i imagine him to be similar, like he would not hurt anyone intentionally in his overblot.)

anyways so the way it would go is that i imagine her friends got fatally injured either because a) she feels that she’s too “useless” without magic to help and wasn’t able to do anything OR b) her attempts at helping to try and prove that she can help without magic made everything worse.

and then she just goes into a guilty spiral then boom — overblot.

ALSO in the song, the way elsa briefly contemplated taking her own life but then realizing there’s no guarantee that would solve anything hnghgh (<- another unintentional parallel to my yuusha lore because that’s actually how she ended up in twst except she did NOT have the latter realization)

there’s this “yuu is dead” theory i’m just using and that the black carriage actually just caught yuusha’s soul after she took her own life from all the burden.

also some bonus angst context for that violin post :3

yuusha back in her homeworld is raised and known to be a gifted musician. people can feel the life and soul in her music but when people interact with her, they are usually met with an ice-cold (heh) personality.

the dead family member was the one who taught her music and the only one who was kind to her.

there’s always an expectation from her family to perform well and to keep up appearances as to not be a humiliation since anything she does can reflect on her entire family. (also hi, slight yuusha/jamil parallels maybe???)

the way she presents herself also stemmed from an incident as a child when she went apeshit on another kid bc she was defending a friend.

so from then on she was taught taught to conceal don’t feel those emotions — which just unfortunately extended to any positive ones, not just negative ones like rage.

so when she is brought to twst, there’s no memory of her being forced to hold back her emotions so she’s just unapologetically affectionate and open with everyone bc that’s how she really is.

but every now and then, memories of her breaking down haunt her in her dreams or as subtle reminders in the waking world.

then yuusha just goes on her day like she just wasn't reminded of her past.

(unnecessarily tragic lore my beloved, but anyway—)

another extremely brief tangent and bonus -> the two songs i had on loop while drawing pre-twst yuusha

lindsey stirling my beloved i love her music

the songs are such a vibe

her instrumentals in “lose you now” especially makes me feel some sort of way 😖

[pfhwrittes]

i’m having a high pain day and can’t take painkillers (womp womp) so i’m going to distract myself by thinking of gaz working all the knots out of my fucked up shoulder and neck

[adriancatrin]

been thinking about this for a while and wonder if my opinion is “““controversial””” so. figured i’d just ask

[bearenjoyers]

sorry im just thinking about bcs but like. why not add a few smaller scenes of gus interacting with his own men? why does it seem like, in comparison, mike is almost immediately elevated to a higher status than those two in bcs purely because we actually get to see him having normal conversations with gus? like i understand they might not keep the plot moving as well because of the fact obviously if victor is currently doing something it’s because gus told him to etc. but for the most part all of the smaller interactions gus does have with those two ends up being in a somewhat high stress situation where it feels very tense between everyone. and it’s just like damn! is it always like that?? why do those two even care that much about their jobs if their boss is a bit of a dick? etc. i think even an additional scene or two with those guys (either alone or the both of them) talking with gus in a more normal situation could’ve both added a bit more depth into how gus treats his employees (we got a lot with how he treats lyle and co., but not a whole lot with the illegal side of things), how comfortable vic and tyrus feel around him in a calmer setting, and exactly why they both feel the need to be as loyal as they are to the guy.

and also on the other side of this i don't think it'd hurt to maybe elaborate on their pay just a bit..? i'm not saying to randomly put a number out into the atmosphere but i just mean some smaller things like. do they buy nicer things for themselves? what's their housing situation? what's their car situation? are the escalade / yukon their own vehicles or does gus just use those two for business situations? do they use them when they're doing their own stuff off the clock or do they have their own cars? etc. that can also help with understanding their motivations a bit. don't get me wrong i don't think they should be visibly rich or something because that's not what gus would want but just smaller things! cause it's easy to write their loyalty off as Well they probably get paid super well, which i'm sure is true, but if they don't show a single hint of that then what's the point. even something as simple as giving tyrus a nice watch, or maybe victor having a nicer looking gun, etc. something small like that. because as it stands right now the average 41 year old viewer who watched the show once only knows and will only ever know victor and tyrus as those two guys in the background who do random stuff for gus with no clear motivation. just the personification of "On it boss (salute emoji)". and to be honest this is true for a whole lot of fans who do watch the show multiple times and enjoy thinking about it more in depth, because on screen we barely have anything about the two.

and to be clear i'm not trying to say we should have an episode just for them or something like no i understand they're side characters. i understand we don't need all that. and i understand this is also primarily Jimmy's show. but it's not like these two are on the same level as like, arlo or paige and kevin etc. these guys have been around since brba. victor was literally introduced in the same episode gus was. and they are a huge part of gus's story, especially in brba. s4 wouldn't have been what it was without victor and tyrus. and in bcs, ignacio's situation wouldn't have been the same if it weren't for victor and tyrus as well. and i just personally believe that if their goal with gus in bcs was to go back and elaborate on how everything came to be and show what he was like a few years younger, they could've dragged victor and tyrus into that. and i think his character would've benefited from taking that extra step with those two.

[sableeira]

okay but ada dazai is so pretty princess vibe and prison dazai is so cat vibe. pre-dark era dazai is also cat vibe but not in the silly way but in the haunted way. dark era and beast dazai are both bastard vibe but in a tragic way and in the most affectionate way possible. the peak of dazai’s pretty princess vibe was during dead apple.

[mabaris]

ok i’m listening to yesterday’s vows and vengeance episode and i had to pause immediately because harding swearing by the stone was so unexpected??? the idea that surfacer dwarves still believe in the stone as an actual religion is so interesting because unlike the other religions in thedas that believe they were abandoned by their respective deistic force(s), it is the individual who abandons the stone. the maker left the physical world and the creators were locked away against their will, but the stone is always there until you leave it, by choice or by force.

to have someone born and raised on the surface who still pays some importance to the stone introduces the idea of redemption to the philosophy of the stone. to me, being on the surface and still putting some kind of importance on it implies you left unwillingly right? because if you choose to walk away from it, you don’t care about preserving those ties. i wonder if she’s going to be something of a foil to varric—a child of exiles, born and raised on the surface, but she actually does have a desire to connect to that culture. and maybe that desire to reconnect is related to her weird new powers

[callixton]

i’m like. so actually into this guy like i Really like him but i simply can’t imagine a world in which he’s attracted to me like. whatever my friends say i think that in reality there is an equally high or higher chance that he can see i have a little thing and does not make the same jokes w me as he does his other friends bc he’s trying to be nice abt it

[deus-and-the-machina]

applying to zines is always a crapshoot bc you want to participate in a fan project with people and want to put yourself out there for this opportunity but even the nicest possibly worded rejection of something as personal as your writing is just a terrible terrible feeling

[stormingfrost]

I added two more!

Jack’s sister

Spirit of the woods

Happy Holidays! I made playlists for RotG characters (even minor characters from the books)

Jack

Bunny

Pitch

Sandy

North

Tooth

MiM

Kathrine

Nightlight

Emily Jane

Ombric

Kozmotis Pitchiner

Lady Pitchiner

Shadowbent

Lermantoff

[exopelagic]

supervisor was met. god help our souls

[brittlebutch]

i can’t stop thinking about this weird little storm chaser AU my brain dreamed up where bill&ted are the POV characters but crucially not the main characters but the problem is that I truly don’t know anything about storms and I worry I’m not smart enough to understand if I do start researching LOL

[shegetsburned]

Uhm hi 👋🏻 could you please write something about Gojo, Nanami, Geto and Toji's reactions to their significant other's life being threatened? Like heartbreaking stuff that ends up well? 👉🏻👈🏻

LOSING YOU w. jujutsu kaisen men ˚ 𐙚 ⋆.

.angst/fluff.

• — ft. satoru gojo, kento nanami, suguru geto, toji fushiguro. took me ages to get to but i’m a sucker for angst, so i just had to do it. thanks for the request, luv! • — content. their reaction to your life being threatened. • — tw. mentions of death, violence, murder.

satoru gojo

₊˚⊹ ᰔ as soon as your name came out of yaga’s mouth, satoru wasted no time and vanished. he searched every place he knew, every corner and alley, in a matter of seconds. there was no coherent thought in his mind while he teleported. the only thing he could clearly see was you. that you were in danger and that you needed to be saved. that he couldn’t let you die and that he previously had so clearly promised that he’d never let anything happen to either you or him.

a liar, he thought he was. how could he have let this happen? what was the point of being the strongest sorcerer if he couldn’t even protect you. he really did believe nothing could happen to you if he was by your side. he’d murder anyone who’d ever try to harm you without even looking back. this time wouldn’t be any different.

he felt his heartbeat reach his ears when he finally felt you near an ally, back pressed against the wall. a hand on your chest, crimson blood dripping down your shirt. jerky breaths escaping your trembling lips. this curse had taken his sweet time with you. it wanted to feed and you were a tasty dinner. there were marks of struggle on your shredded clothes and bruised wrists.

nothing came out of satoru’s mouth when his eyes landed on you. he just couldn’t believe he had let this happen to you. his expression was stoic. when he slowly approached you the curse immediately felt it. the strongest sorcerer doesn’t let most curses escape from his grasp. but this one.. this one would inevitably suffer the most.

it wasn’t long before the curse felt his body being pushed against the wall in front of you. a yelp was heard when his skull hit the wall head-on. you could hear the bones crack and send shivers through your entire being. that’s when you realized your boyfriend had finally arrived. but when you lifted your head trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes he had already turned all his attention towards the threat.

you had never seen him like this. he was lifeless. his eyebrows were lowered and pulled closer together. you could’ve sworn his eyes bulged. he was enraged. he didn’t even bother to raise his arm towards the curse, he just advanced and slowly- very slowly crushed every little bone in the monster’s body.

you were out of breath but couldn’t shift your gaze from the horrible spectacle in front of you. the wall caved under the pressure as gojo used his infinity to create a space between him and the curse which only crushed it more. it was cruel. cruel but deserving considering the circumstances.

the curse’s body was retracting upon itself with no way out. a loud and piercing cry followed the sound of the wall being crushed under the weight of the infinity. the only thing you found the strength to mumble under your breath was your boyfriend’s name.

after a few seconds, black smoke emanated from the crushed bricked wall with no curses in sight. no remains, nothing. your heavy breath filled the air as satoru finally sighted. you could barely see his eyes when he turned to you, crouching down at your height.

his violence had surprised you, but you were so relieved. tears ran down your cheeks when you tried to speak. you tried to reach for satoru when he crouched but he was quicker and wrapped one arm around your back and another supporting the back of your head. he held you close and it made you feel at home. his scent and touch reassured you when you buried your head in his neck.

still silent, he held you tightly close to his chest. his hand threaded your hair, a slight pressure applied so he could make sure you were okay. you could feel all his anger slowly fade when you returned the gesture with one hand against his chest. your tears slowly fading as you felt the warmth of satoru around your body.

“satoru..”

he shushed you. always pulling you closer and closer to him. he wasn’t going to leave this time. he’d never let you endure something like this ever again.

“i’m right here. you’re safe. lend me your pain, baby. i’ll carry you the rest of the way.” he whispered into your ear, caressing your back so that you’d warm up to his touch. you could feel he was slowly coming back to being the satoru you knew.

you were safe in his arms but guilt still ran deep inside of him. he promised to take you to shoko as soon as possible, resting by your side until you were completely healthy. he also promised himself to assign you with an escort when he couldn’t be here to protect you.

satoru’s only concern was you and he’d never let anything get in the way of your well-being ever again. if he had to show every curse on this earth that he’d destroy them if they ever tried to get near you, he’d have no hesitation in doing so. you were safe. you knew it, now.

kento nanami

₊˚⊹ ᰔ you were the most important person for nanami. his one and only. his love, his soul, his heart. he would’ve resigned in an instant if you hadn’t begged him to keep his job as a sorcerer. but knowing his personal feelings about loss, you knew it’d break him if something came to happen to you. that is precisely why you always acted cautiously, never putting yourself in harm's way and living your life as safely as you could. unfortunately, this time, your efforts had been in vain.

when he saw you, helplessly struggling at the mercy of a first-grade curse wrapped around your throat, all he could think about was how much he regretted not having taken a safer job and bought you that house you both talked about so much on a beach in malaysia.

he knew he needed to act quickly or the curse would finish you off as easily as it had taken you hostage.

you wiggled your feet when it lifted you off the ground, hands desperately scratching and holding onto his grasp so he’d let go of his claws around your throat. you could feel kento’s eyes on you but couldn’t even dare to look at him or do anything else than push against the claws so they wouldn’t crush your neck further.

therefore, you couldn’t see him remove his tie, wrapping it tightly around his knuckles. he knew he couldn’t use a weapon, scared that the curse would use you as a shield. his fists were more precise and his sword wasn’t enough to unleash the rage he had built up inside.

he slowly made his way to the curse but, with every step, its hold crushed you more. you were so scared, almost out of breath with tears rolling down your cheeks. these cheeks kento had kissed so many times to take away your pain. you were hoping he’d do it once more.

once he realized that the threatening stance he was in only alarmed the curse, kento stood down, lowering his curse energy’s flow to an almost invisible state. he made himself look harmless in the face of the monster which slowly but surely helped you to breathe better.

you knew your husband. you had heard it several times from yuji and Ino and you also personally knew that he always handled things the right way. this is was kept you from breaking down and letting go of your almost meaningless fight against the curse’s strength. you had never doubted him and you wouldn’t now. he built his strength with yours. that’s what kento had told you the day he had asked for your hand.

his eyes were locked with your struggling gaze. despite him trying to contain himself, his veins stood out from how tightly he clenched his fists. he would’ve massacred the curse right here and now if it hadn’t cowardly taken you hostage. nanami might have seemed harmless in the moment but his anger was apparent.

without thinking much about it, he threw his sword aside, lifting his hands above to show complete surrender to the curse.

“let her go.”

the furious and deep voice of your husband made you whine, finally hearing a sign from him. unfortunately you could feel that the curse was still hesitating. the clinging of the sword on the ground had startled it which only showed kento how weak it really was. it also showed that it did not want to fight but preferred to flee.

this strange demeanor encouraged kento to step closer, hands still in the air, and that’s when he saw his opening. the curse was looking left and right to find an escape which diminished his attention and loosened his grip around your throat. it lasted just a few seconds but it was enough for you to breathe out his name.

“kento..”

that’s when he drew his fist and used all of his force and cursed energy to deliver a devastating blow right into the curse spirit’s face. it was sent flying several meters away after dropping you so kento could easily catch you and keep you from hitting the ground, arms wrapped around your body.

it only took one hit. one punch to obliterate half of the curse’s body in pieces. the shock had been so violent that your savior’s knuckles bled on your shirt through his yellow tie.

“mine.”

you could feel his heavy breath against your neck when he got on one knee, holding you against him, a hand carefully placed on your cheek. his thumb caressing your skin and whipping the single tear you shed.

“my love..”

kento’s expression had returned to the one you knew. the calm but stoic gaze he wore returned your breath to a normal pace. his arms pulled you always closer to him and he felt his sense come back when your fingers brushed the hand he had placed on your shoulder. you couldn’t talk or you’d burst into tears so you smiled in admiration.

he placed his warm lips upon your forehead and you could feel how scared he had been, maybe even more scared than you. his eyes were stuck on your finger, the one that wore his ring.

losing haibara had crushed his soul to tiny little pieces and you had been the one to delicately put them all back together with your innocent kindness and understanding. he’d be damned if he was to let something happen to the one who saved his heart.

this was the first and last time your life had been threatened, thanks to the careful supervision of kento but also his promise to quit his job and buy that house. he hadn’t realized how much he already had with you and would curse anybody who tried to take his happiness away from him ever again.

suguru geto

₊˚⊹ ᰔ you trusted him. you trusted that, if you were in pain, suguru would find ways to eradicate that pain. you trusted that if you showed any sign of distress, he’d be by your side helping you in any way he could. most importantly, you trusted that he’d protect you no matter the cost and no matter the consequences, because he was devoted to you. if there was something he’d burn the whole world for, it’d be you.

these men, these humans, these pathetic monkeys that had attacked you on your way home never knew what would come for them. you were beaten and almost lifeless when the men started searching for any kind of money or jewelry you had on your person. of course, you had resisted. that’s the only thing you could do, because you were so scared that if you had willingly complied to their demand they would’ve asked for more.

being helpless was scary. you thought it wouldn’t be so scary with suguru by your side, but right now you had never been more terrified. you also knew that your boyfriend would never forgive the men that harmed you, so the only thing you could do was wait. because you did not doubt him. you never doubted him. you knew he’d come for you.

when the men had finished checking your bags and any belongings you had on your person, one approached you, lifting your chin with a vulgar smile. you couldn’t even look at him in the eyes but hit bullseye when you spat directly in his face making him drop you in anger. he cursed under his breath before tightly grabbing you by the collar. a hand in the air so it’d land on your face.

with a weak and desperate groan you turned your face away but was surprised when the slap never landed.

when you reopened your eyes to look at your aggressor, he had his own hands wrapped his throat. it’s like he was struggling to breath, a firm pressure was crushing his neck as he tried to break free from this invisible hold.

when you realized what might be happening you tried to take a peak at the other men who were all struggling with the same problem. scratching and screaming at the invisible menace that were preventing them from breathing.

under the distressed shoutings, a cocky laugh attracted your gaze. when you turned to look at the source, your face lit up at the sight of suguru. but he didn’t look as relieved as you were. his laugh was dark, almost cynical. it was psychotic and displeased.

you had seen him despise simple-minded humans before but killing them was a different story. he wasn’t only taking their lives, he was torturing them. their necks were getting slowly squashed by the curses he had sent on them.

seeing you struggle to breath, helpless at the hand of those who had harmed an innocent girl like you. his girl. it had awaken another kind of hatred in him. a hatred that had been buried deep for so long.

suguru took one good look at you, searching for your eyes but you were incapable of keeping them open. you were just glad your boyfriend had arrived. you knew you were safe when you rested your eyes, a small smile of satisfaction drawn on your lips.

when he concentrated his gaze back on the man that had touched you, he crouched in front of him, getting to his level before taking over the curse and wrapping his hand around the stranger’s neck. tormenting him and taking the air away from him. suguru tightened his grip, his smile fading when he brought the man closer and closer towards death.

“so you think you can just harm her and get away with it?”

the man was hissing swears as small cries of help escaped his bloody lips. his face was swollen and breaking down under suguru’s hold and his watering eyes looked like they would pop out of their socket sooner or later. that’s how tight he held the man.

“pathetic.”

he fed on their cries. helplessly calling out for help, the men only fueled his rage with their insufferable sounds. the sorcerer remembered every time he had felt an ounce of empathy for these beings in the past and regretted every actions he had done to protect them when he saw your wounded state. what they had done was inexcusable and no amount of pain would be enough to atone for it.

after a while, resigned, your offender chocked out a weak apology. but as he did, all the bones in his body instantly broke under another a new kind of pressure coming from yet another curse suguru had unleashed upon him. so now he laid there, between your boyfriend’s compressed clutch. dead.

after a few seconds he dropped the body on the ground like garbage waste and walked to you, passing by the other men that were struggling to breath. he pushed the first one aside with his foot, throwing one on the ground, creating a path for him to walk to you.

“move. i’ve come to take what’s mine.”

on suguru’s command, two snaps followed when the curses broke the other men’s necks before they fell on the floor. three lifeless corpses were now scattered in front of both of you, and as soon as he made sure those stupide monkeys had payed for what they had done, he joined you.

when he leaned towards you, his hand grazed yours, wrapping it with his own in a warm grip. his eyes searched for yours, lifting your chin with his thumb before running it along your jaw, making comforting circles on your cheek.

“are you alright, my love? can you walk?”

suguru’s tone was calmer than before. his eyes never left yours when he wiped one of your tears. his comforting smile reassured you and you nodded at his question, holding onto his wrist when he helped you up, closing the distance between the two of you.

you could hear his calm heartbeat when you leaned against his chest, hiding between his arms and you wondered how he could be so tranquil after killing these men so easily. little did you know the only thing he felt was rage. he knew he was right to despise these inferior beings that had harmed the only important thing that mattered.

he could’ve burned the world for you.

toji fushiguro

₊˚⊹ ᰔ toji fushiguro was an asshole. a first-class asshole. you guys had slept together left and right and he always left first. you had no expectations regarding the man. no doubt that you were replaceable. he didn’t open up much and never talked about his work which didn’t alarm you much considering toji’s character.

basically, emotionally and personally speaking, you two weren’t close. that’s why, when two strangers raided your apartment, screaming fushiguro’s name in anger, you wondered why you had accepted to sleep with a man with a secret and violent past.

your furniture was on the floor and the men had destroyed most of your electronics so you had no way to call for help. one was guarding the door while the other took care of questioning you. it had something to do with a bet and broken promises. of course, money had to be involved, otherwise, why would they be threatening the girl he had slept with once or twice to know of his whereabouts?

tied to a chair, almost unconscious, he had been covering you with bruises and scratches using anything that he could find but you still gave him the same answer. you had no idea where toji was as he never kept contact with you. he was always the one that came to you. and if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t expect him to come save you anytime soon.

after a while, when the man realized he might not easily get an answer out of you, he reached in his back, pulling out a pistol from the edge of his pants. at the sight of the gun, your heart shattered. that was it for you, you thought. you couldn’t get out of this mess and you would die convinced toji was out there somewhere, probably getting rich and fucking naive girls like you.

you couldn’t even talk anymore, your head was hanging in front of you, blood dripping from your mouth to your thighs. you didn’t know if you’d last long, your vision was blurry and you felt yourself chasing the dark tunnel that clouded your eyesight.

you could hear faint words of command when your chin was lifted with the cold metallic canon of the pistol. the man had your life between his hands. you knew he’d pull the trigger if he eventually realized you couldn’t give him any information he needed. you knew he would kill you. it was so easy and you were pissing him off.

your eyes never left his nervous figure which only frustrated him more and, out of instinct, he slapped you with the handle of the pistol, almost knocking the air out of you. your jaw was broken and tears were flooding your eyes when the blow forced you to look away.

but as he pulled his arm up, preparing for another strike, he seemed to stop in his movement, startled by something behind him. sounds of struggles and a broken door were heard when he shifted his gaze entirely towards the front of your apartment. his accomplice had disappeared which alerted the man and made him call out to him.

several seconds and unanswered calls later, on his guard, the armed stranger decided to go take a look. as soon as he took a step towards the broken piece of wood that was left, a corpse dropped to his feet.

it was the other man, and he seemed to have been brutally murdered from the back, a hole at his heart’s level revealed the level of violence he had endured which left the man panicked and distressed. sweat was covering his forehead when he tried to peak out the door, fingers trembling against the handle and trigger.

unfortunately for him, a tall and broad shadow quickly covered him, before a shot came off. one single gunshot followed by a loud thud.

you could barely make up the identity of the person who had saved you with your weak sight, but his odour was enough for you to distinguish the man clearly. he always smelled the same.

toji was here. he was standing in the doorway, a tight grip around his gun and a grin covering his scarred lips. “can’t believe they send these weaklings to come after me.”

he carefully stepped between the cadavers, examining the poor state of your apartment and their lifeless bodies before his gaze shifted to you. a quick exchange was enough for you to sigh in relief and let yourself relax to an unconscious state.

despite himself, he did feel an ounce of guilt when he took a good look at you. his mistakes had almost gotten you killed. he couldn’t have imagined how he would’ve felt if he had arrived too late. the blood on your face, the broken jaw and the many scars were revealed by the moonlight passing through the door. the cold air misplaced your hair for toji to see tears strolling down your face.

his grin faded as he stood still in front of you and the mess he had made. his grip had loosened around the gun but he slowly moved the canon towards the second man he had killed. without hesitation, he emptied his clip through the culprit’s head, a look of contempt and disgust plastered on his face.

“tsk.. you just had to go and get yourself noticed, hm?” he said, now focused only on you.

thanks to toji, you were safe now. and you had silently thanked him for coming back for you.

carrying you bridal style as you laid there now unconscious but safe in his arms, he placed his thumb against your jaw, tilting your head to get a proper look at you. even now, you were so beautifully calm and your cheeks wore a pink tint, probably because of the cold, which only accentuated your beauty and innocence.

with a sigh, like it weighed on his conscience, toji murmured. “guess someone’s gonna have to take care of you, from now on.”

but the truth was far from what it appeared to be. saving you that night had just brought the man closer to the conclusion that he cherished you more than he thought he did. you weighed on his conscience like a guilty obsession which he could only nourish by spending more time by your side.

© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.