#there's just nothing that describes his devotion so perfectly

[johnslittlespoon]

something about bucky just wanting to be a good boy for buck drives me insane

GOD same. he could not care less about what other people think of him, but gale? he thrives off of his praise, is so eager to please, to prove he can be good, to make gale feel good.

and what gets to him even more than a simple good boy is when it's preceded by my.

"my good boy" and he's putty in gale's hands, all heart–eyes and soft edges and gazing up in reverence at the blond, ready to do anything he asks, looking at him like he's hung the moon.

he craves to be gale's in any and every sense of the word.

yes, i'm your good boy! yes, i'll do whatever you ask! yes, let me make you proud, let me make you feel good, let me draw pretty sounds out of you and show you how much i adore you. i'd wait at your feet forever like a dog waits for its owner to return home.

[euseokz]

@ anton — i've never felt this way before . . i hope it never ends ! . cws : virginity loss . oral (f) . wc : 0.6k+ . genre : smut + fluff

a/n : happy (belated) anton day !! decided to finish up this wip for our sweet boy’s day hehe 🫶🏻🫶🏻

FIRST LOVE! ANTON who is in complete awe of you, so enamored he can barely hold it in.

he has never felt this way for someone, how he always wants to be close to you, how he always seems to smile more around you, how your touch always is so warm and comforting, how being away from you leaves him with a weird feeling of longing. he can’t quite describe it, but he wonders if this what love feels like, if it is this giddy feeling he feels bubbling inside his chest whenever your name is mentioned or when he sees you. maybe he does love you, and thankfully, you love him too, feeling everything he feels perfectly the same, your first time experiencing all of this too.

maybe what led you two to take so long to fully find your ways to each other was the fact you were so inexperienced in this department, but regardless, eventually, you found yourselves in each other’s arms, every kiss leaving you filled with more glee than the last, perky smiles always making their way to your lips whenever you were together. all you needed was to take the next step, completely devote yourselves to one another, wanting more than just the make out sessions and daring touches. you wanted each other badly, drawn to one another like a moth to a flame — and anton hoped it would always be like this, that he’d always want you like he did the first time.

his touches were soft, tender, each layer of clothing getting peeled off of you with a sort of gentleness only anton could give you. he gazed at your naked body with wonder, already imagining all the things he wanted to do with you — and the feeling was mutual, as soon as he too was completely bare your eyes gluing themselves to his wide frame, looking curiously, expectantly waiting for what would come next.

anton left small kisses down your neck, each one fleeting but hotter than any other one he had ever given you, making you squirm under him, a sort of fire burning in your middle, begging to be put out by anton’s plump lips. he left his last pecks on your inner thigh, then moving to press them over your folds, anxiously gulping before peeking his tongue out, licking a strip up your pussy, attentive to your reaction. you whined, arching your back ever so slightly, already desperate for more, anton’s arms wrapping around your upper thighs while your hands held them, trying to find solace in touching him. experimentally, and almost curiously, anton continued, trying to flick over your clit, the swollen bud twitching at his touch, your unintentional reactions to him something that made anton smile, only adding fuel to make him want to keep going.

he sucked on your clit, continued pressing his tongue over it, kissed your pussy and even tried pushing his tongue into your hole. anton did anything he could think of that’d possibly make you feel good, all of his guesses right enough because sooner than later you were cumming against him, your walls clenching around nothing as he continued stimulating your sensitive clit, slowing down when you started whining that it was too much, until he eventually stopped, coming up from between your legs with a satisfied grin, his lips and chin glistening with a mixture of his saliva and your slick. anton’s eyes shined, glossy arousal covering them — much like your own, so without wasting more time he moved up to kiss you again, ready to keep going with you, his first love.

[f1gments]

DEVOTION - Gojo Satoru

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Flushed skin, soft kisses, moments of infatuation, whispers of adoration, crossing oceans, pure unadulterated love and seeking solace in one another with Satoru.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x female reader

word count: 7.4k words

R18, slight manga spoilers (?) making out, smut, nipple licking,oral sex, blowjob, vaginal fingering, missionary, doggystyle, vaginal sex, creampie,teasing & dirty talk, soft gojo, late night sex

a/n: pls don’t expect much from this fic lol. just wanted to update with a gojo fic i had in my neglected wips. enjoy!

If you’re a minor pls don’t interact I beg.

You’ve been having those dreams again. 

The same ones where you try to stop Satoru from going to the station in Shibuya. You try to tell him that the person who’s stuck in the body of his best friend isn’t Geto Suguru, but an imposter who knew that he could manipulate Satoru by showing up that night. But it’s too late. The part that constantly appears in your visions is the one where you try to scream out tell him it’s a trap and to stop the person possessing Suguru’s body. 

You stir awake and slowly open your eyes just a little to see the moonlight brightening the bedroom. A sense of relief fills you when you realize you’ve just been dreaming again, that you’re in your shared apartment with Satoru again. You let your eyes close once more as you reach out an arm across the bed, searching for warmth. Instead, you’re met with cool sheets beneath your hand, touching the empty spot where he usually sleeps, guessing that he probably hasn’t gone to sleep yet. 

You sigh and slip out of bed to look for him. Your soft voice echoes in the hallway of the apartment when you call out his name and when you reach the living room, you see him standing at the balcony, in nothing but dark gray sweatpants. 

You’re not sure if he heard you since he doesn’t make any attempt to turn around. You come up behind him, gently touching his back with your fingertips. He starts to turn around but stops as you press yourself into him, hands and forehead resting on his back. Your eyes close shut when you feel his warmth despite how cold it is outside.

Sleep is a foreign concept to a man who barely lets sleep reach him, forever wide-eyed and watching the bright illuminating lights of the city and the few cars that drive on the streets below. It comes with being someone of his position. 

“I thought you were sleeping.” he quietly claims, his voice a deep smooth velvet.

“And I thought I was sharing a bed with someone.” you sigh, inhaling his natural scent and the sillage from the cologne that lingers on his skin. Satoru turns to face you and grabs your hand to hold it against his cheek. 

He then brings it to his lips, a small smile on his handsome features. He reminds you of the midnight sun that is beyond the horizon. His fingers are much longer than your own, the knuckles curling around your palm, almost swallowing it up whole and you find yourself thinking how uncanny it is that they fit so beautifully together, jigsaw pieces that match perfectly.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask softly. 

“You.” he replies simply before he leans down to kiss you deeply, pulling your body closely to his. He leans down, into you and quickly dusts his lips against your own, pretty and light and shooting electricity up your spine. The briefest of touches already makes you both feel utterly dizzy, drunk with exhilaration. 

Satoru kisses you like it’s the first and last combined – again and again. His cold fingertips turn warm as they cup your chin and your breath gets taken away in return for soft lips against yours, the gentle scraping of his teeth against your lower lip then the uproar in your gut takes a toll when his forehead meets yours, the same time his arm comes around your waist to pull you closer, as if he’s afraid you’d disappear. If you asked him to describe it, he’d probably say he’s incapable of doing so. 

But inside, kissing you feels like he’s a desperately dehydrated man, who discovers water for the first time in weeks and dives into the cool liquid, inhaling it until he feels full. Satisfying a yearning with an immensity that is only completely understood in all of its sensational intensity when he presses his lips to the soft seam of your own.

When the pair of you finally separate, catching your breath, you notice that his eyes are shimmering like an ocean reflecting moonlight, his white hair softly blowing with the gentle breeze. He appears completely dazed with his gently swollen mouth, intoxicated by the way you drew love from his lips with your own, evoked with the flick of your tongue.

You remember your blurry, teared vision struggling to recognize that it was indeed him the day he came home. That it was Satoru. They couldn’t grasp that it was his snowy white hair, now a slicked dark silver from accumulated sweat and drizzle, a few stray strands swooping over his sharp eyes.

A strong, sure hand brushes up your nightgown — nimble fingers bunching it into curls of soft silk and lace while your lips place themselves onto the pulsepoint on his neck. His hands go up to cup your chest where your nipples have slightly gotten hard underneath the blue fabric from his previous actions, making him grin. 

The man standing in front of you is Gojo Satoru to the absolute core, for anyone who knows him by his facade. This is the real him. But you have always been one of the special few that knew his labyrinth of a heart. The endless wrong turns and hurdles and traps. His burdens are your burdens but he never seems to think so. You also knew that Satoru had tucked his heart right beside your own and deemed the spaces between your ribs a place for it to call home. 

Your body gets pushed onto the cold metal railing of the balcony, but you don’t care in the least. As you drink in everything that Satoru gives you, your tongue slides into his mouth, eliciting a low groan that leaves you shuddering. The hands that grabbed your dress before are now pushing the soft fabric up your thighs. Higher, higher, not high enough. 

“Satoru,” you gasp as he impatiently thrusts his weight between your legs. 

“Not here.” You shake your head. “Why not?” he murmurs, kissing your neck. You put a hand on his chest to stop him and give him a look. “The neighbors could see us.” A playful smile pulls the corners of his lips up. “And? You say that as we haven’t done it in public before.” You slap a hand over his mouth. “Enough.”

You scoff and push yourself past him to enter the house. “Should’ve stayed in that damn box.” you mumble under your breath, making him chuckle as he follows behind you. You walk to the kitchen to get yourself a drink from the fridge. 

Your mind drifts to when Satoru opened up about who he was. Who he really was on the inside. The way he talked about being the strongest was like a heavy burden that sunk ships into the depths of dark oceans, that swallowed light and only provided eons of black oblivion. It seemed to hook into his bones and dragged him down, down, and at the time you wondered, for somebody who must have had the world at his feet with such abilities and power, how he could experience such a feeling, a distaste for the life that he has.  

You pour your drink into a cup and turn to look up to see Satoru staring at you with an unreadable expression as he leans against the kitchen counter in the opposite direction. 

“What?” 

Satoru, eyes still weighted with the pull of desire, gazes at your thighs, the way your dress has hiked itself up to reveal the smooth flesh further when you bend over slightly to place the cup into the sink. His fingertips itching to touch you, especially with the sensual flicker that skirts your gaze when you turn back to face him, though instead, he settles for words.

“Nothing, just admiring how beautiful you are.” he replies, giving you no time to feel embarrassed when he walks over to close the space between you both. You are instantly reminded of how kissing Satoru could never, ever possibly become old and boring. 

He brushes a gentle finger down your cheek then cups your jaw with a hand while gripping your hip with another. “I can’t decide on what I want to do with you.” 

Impending scenarios race behind your eyes, and all you can do is groan when you open them to look up at him as he towers over your smaller frame. “I know what I want,” you hum with a growing smile and brazen eyes.

“And what is that?” he hums in response, sending you careening into another plane when he brings up one of your hands to his lips and leans down to playfully nip on your index finger. 

Your vision focuses for a second to observe his tousled hair, his angular nose, and into bright mischievous eyes, blue of every dancing sky, infinite hues illuminated by newborn light. 

“Why waste time talking about it when we can show each other exactly what we think?” you tell him. In seconds, you’re lifted up onto the kitchen counter making you gasp in surprise as when the cold marble touches the back of your thighs.

A warm breath rolls down your face as he chuckles—a low, honeyed sound that took you by surprise the first time you ever heard it—before he murmurs, “I figured you of all people would take any opportunity to speak what’s on your mind.”  

You tut before rolling your eyes. “Well, now I do have something on my mind, but you’re certainly not going to—”

Satoru shuts your annoyance up with his lips again. He takes your arched back as an opportunity to slide an arm underneath your waist, kissing you deeper and rendering you thoroughly speechless. His mouth leaves yours only to descend down your jaw, trail down your neck, latch onto your pulse. Enthralled, your legs squeeze his hips. A mewl leaves your lips while your hands frantically skate across his broad shoulders, and when your nails leave tiny red half moons on his bare skin, you feel his cock harden and push further into your center. 

Seconds later, you’re being lifted up off the counter and Satoru wastes no time to carry you to your shared bedroom. 

Your back hits the mattress as a hand shoves the hem of your nightgown above your waist. Before Satoru moves any further, his lips nick your ear and cause you to elicit a soft moan towards the ceiling. “That’s it,” he whispers, pushing his mouth into your neck hard and making you bite your lip, “You sound so pretty, baby.” 

The groan you suppressed comes out in earnest, and your fingers dig into his shoulders at the same time. “I wanna hear you, too,” you admit, earning a low rumble in your ear. 

“Thought you didn’t like me being loud.” he teases. You click your tongue in annoyance. “That’s only when you talk too much, now hurry up.” 

“So impatient.” Satoru chuckles in amusement. “Open your legs for me.” 

The command makes you whine, but when you slowly spread your thighs only for Satoru to shove them wider, a full whimper leaps from your throat. A few light taps on your thigh are what you get before your lover cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not getting shy now are you?” he says with confidence and a bit of suspicion. 

“Shut up.” 

“I thought you said you wanted me to hurry up.” He says jokingly, until he notices the anxious expression on your face. 

Warm, large hands stop to rest on both your thighs. It’s not like you haven’t had sex during the past few weeks, since he returned. But somehow tonight things feel a bit different. You can’t figure out why. During his absence, you never really had the thought to see anyone else. You were too busy with missions and you mostly spent time with just Shoko or got too busy with work. Your days were filled with nothing but constant worry and anxiousness over Satoru being gone. 

No one could really replace the feelings you had for Satoru. The both of you had gone through a lot. There were too many precious memories together for you to simply be able to move on to someone else. So you really wanted to take things slow with him, just for tonight. To be able to feel all of him. To make up for all those days and nights you weren’t with him. 

“Are you alright?”

“It’s just. I want us to take our time for tonight.” You tell him simply. He immediately understands what you’re telling him and he stands to bend his body over your smaller form between the silken sheets. “I’ll be gentle then,” he murmurs before molding his warm lips onto yours once more. 

Each kiss he had given before had been full of passion, but this one is different. He’s being much more gentle compared to before. There is nothing but comfort in his touch, and you can feel any stress drip from your body and tenseness dissolve from your bones. If this is earth, then what is heaven?

Heaven is the gliding of slender fingers under your dress, looping around your lace panties. It is a groan tucked into the dip of your collarbone, a palm fasting itself against wet warmth that elicits ecstasy through your veins, the final shreds of your underwear abandoned to the floor, no longer required, never needed in the first place. It is the touch of his mouth marking fields of lavender and dusty rose across the sensitive skin of your throat.  You don’t register the way he has shifted far enough to close your legs together, slipping your panties off with ease, before widening them again. 

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Satoru kisses down your neck again, but he descends lower, his teeth grazing the slope of your breast before his mouth picks one to kiss over your lacy gown. A warm palm closes over the other, squeezing before pulling the material down, and when your breasts spill over they are enveloped with his tongue and large hands once more.  “Satoru,” you gasp, arching your back and digging your elbows into the mattress. One of your hands shoots into his soft platinum locks, and your tug causes his grips on your hip and leg to tighten immediately. 

Latching onto a nipple, Satoru gives it a hard suck while twisting the other enough to make you cry out, and you can feel your legs shaking. “Don’t stop.” you cry, gripping his hair tighter. 

“God.” Satoru abandons your breasts to the chill of the room as he goes back down between your legs. Your dress is fully bunched around your waist and Satoru spreads your thighs apart, revealing your center like a rosebud in bloom. However, the pause that greets you makes you frown and close them. 

“Stop staring like that.” You push his hands away.

He ignores you and pulls your legs apart again. “Quit it,” he hummed, sounding too satisfied for his own good. “Be nice or I’ll change my mind and make you scream instead.”

Teeth nick your thigh, and the dark laugh you hear has you growing wetter than you already are. Satoru brings his face closer to your cunt, inhaling your natural musk. 

“You smell so good.” 

You don’t know how to respond. But the fingers that slide across your folds tell you that you don’t need to, and you throw your head back in pleasure. The wetness you feel has pooled onto the bedsheets and is now being coated on Satoru’s long fingers, one after the other rubbing your clit in slow, tiny circles and sliding deliciously up and down your slippery folds.

His fingers twitch against your covered slit. They drift across it wide, up and then down, and his mouth is parted in a complete loss for words. 

You start to shake in need, but a firm hand shoves your stomach back onto the bed. “Relax, baby,” Satoru orders. “Let me take care of you.” 

When you settle back onto the bed, you squeak as your hips are yanked forward to the edge. Your legs are hoisted onto Satoru’s shoulders. Words are lost on your tongue as his hot muscle dives into your center. You can feel the way your walls immediately flex, you can hear the loud wet laps and sucking noises when he works on your clit.

He feasts on you like a man starved. 

Everything feels familiar yet new again at the same time, like you hadn’t already experienced this with him before and the sheer intimacy has your eyes squeezing shut. Moans spill constantly from your lips. 

You meet his eyes again, and he shoots you a sideways grin as you feel a sudden swipe come across your heat, making you let out a breathy moan. You feel him moan into you, sending vibrations up your body making you grip tightly on his hair. 

“Satoru,” you gasp. Frazzled, your arms flail to find anything for purchase, only to settle on the sheets beneath you, where your fingers grip tight, knuckles going white. He looks up with a hooded gaze, groaning into your center when he sees your newfound position. Your lidded eyes drink in his wet lips, and your foggy mind barely realizes that it’s your juices that coats his face until he dives back down again. When Satoru’s tongue fully presses into your core before his soft lips suckle your clit, you cry out in need for more. Instantly, that is what you’re given: long, deft fingers enter your folds to the knuckle, curling up to hit a spot that has your entire being soaring into the ceiling. Exquisite. You’re floating. There’s something inside of you winding and winding. 

“Come for me,” is the last thing you hear before your body obeys. A white light blinds you and curls your toes, snaps your limbs rigid and has your knuckles aching as you grip the sheets even harder. The loud whine you hear is your own, you recognize, and you bite your lip to smother its volume. His warm mouth closes over yours, and you can taste yourself. 

“As much as I want your pretty lips around my cock right now,” Satoru rasps into your mouth, “I can’t wait any longer this time. I need you.” 

Your fingers are pried off of the sheets—you hadn’t known you needed help with it until Satoru assists you with slick digits of his own.  

Satoru moves back to pull both his sweatpants and boxers off. Broad, rippling shoulders come down to a defined chest and stomach, and powerful thighs encase a cock so large and pretty that you can’t take your eyes off of its curve. He looks at you smugly, to which you return with a smirk. 

You take him by surprise when you pull him by the arm and push him onto the bed. 

He raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” 

“I wanna make you feel good.” 

“I thought I – oh fuck,” he hisses, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he steadies himself on his palms when you don’t waste any more time to lick a single stripe from the base of his cock to the tip before you wrap your hand around it, giving it a good tug with a twist of your wrist. Satoru grunts in response, his eyes fluttering shut as you repeat the gesture with your mouth a few times to create some lubrication for the movement of your hand up and down his growing shaft.

Satoru throws his head back with a long groan and his eyes leave yours to close shut as his mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape while your hand works. You switch between easing the tip of his dick into your mouth, circling your tongue around the head, and the tugs of your wrist until he is releasing breathy, choked sighs into the quiet air of your bedroom. 

You kiss sloppily around his pelvic area, toying with the sensitive skin as you graze your teeth across the upper skin of his thigh; He jumps a little at the movement, making you grin. You’re avoiding the thing he wants most, which is to be taken into your mouth fully. But you like the way he reacts to being toyed with too much to give in just yet— his head kicked back into the pillows, legs rigid and toes flexing, hands stilled on the covers beside him because they are just itching to grab your head and direct it to where he needs you most. 

The movement of your hand up and down Satoru’s shaft slows as you lower your face to his balls, sucking one into your mouth. You toy with it for a minute before moving to the other, all while keeping the slow movement of your wrist going. You begin to wonder how long Satoru will let you keep him in this spot, but just as you do so, he speaks up in his usual hoarse, quiet voice.

“Fuck,” Satoru grunts. “Can you stop teasing already?”

There is a part of you that wants to continue denying him, but you don’t. You let go of his balls from your mouth with a lewd pop and sink your mouth down onto his shaft as far as it will go. Satoru reacts with an outward groan and his body sinks into the mattress with relief at the warmth and wetness coating his cock.

You pull back to the tip but don’t let it leave your mouth completely, circling your tongue around and tasting the saltiness of his arousal before sinking down again. You hollow out your cheeks. The grunts, groans and breaths from Satoru only increase your desire to please him, so you fondle his balls with one hand while you work. 

Your own arousal coats the space between your legs. “Shit, baby, slow down,” Satoru croaks, hands finally making purchase in your hair. 

He combs the strands back from your face as you bob up and down a few more times; he looks torn between letting himself go in your mouth right then and there and tearing you from his lap so he can fuck the daylights out of you, but he finally makes a decision when his hands lightly push you away.

“You’re the one who rushed me.” You say after pulling back a string of saliva connecting from your mouth to the tip of his dick, and you swear you see Satoru swallow hard at the sight. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” you ask, playing coy. It takes everything in you not to smile a little at his reaction.

“Is it wrong to think you look pretty like this?” he murmurs, reaching a hand out to swipe the bottom of your plump lips with his thumb.  

“It would disappoint me if you didn’t.” you hum before going back down on him, the vibrations drilling electricity through his cock. 

No, no more, he needs you right now. 

Satoru slips his hand from the side of your face down to your chin, his thumb lightly putting pressure onto the dip beneath your lower lip in a silent demand to stop. Understanding, you come up and lock your gaze on his mouth, letting him draw you into a fervent kiss.

“I need you,” He breathes into the grooves of your lips, shivering when the tip of your tongue draws lightly against his own. “I need to be inside of you, baby. Let me show you how much I love you.”

He wastes no time to get up and grab the hem of your garment mumbling hands up before he gently pushes you onto the mattress. Satoru caresses you, holds you, like you’d never once fucked, like he never had his cock inside of you and enacted the greatest moment of his life. Your skin is an uncharted map, marked with fingers of the past that were too intoxicated to think twice, to enjoy and devour the expanses of smooth flesh. But now, he has all the time in the world to do that. Every single day, every waking second. 

Yet he still cannot get enough of you. Not even when his lips reach your throat and you are gasping into the shell of his ear, blooming meadows of lilac and blue on the delicate skin while his palms smooth down your sides. 

Your back arches off the bed with when his tongue circles around the perked bud of your left nipple, and Satoru situates his thigh between yours so that each time you move, your heated center grinds against his leg. He switches between the two — sucking, grazing and tweaking your nipples with his hands and placing pressure on your most sensitive parts until a strangled moan escapes your throat.

“God, that’s hot.” He grins up at you, moving from your chest to slant his lips against yours.

Taking the length in his palm, Satoru hovers above your still form, eyes never leaving your body. Obeying, you push yourself up into the plush sheets, gasping in surprise when a strong body immediately covers yours right after. “You really are impatient.” 

“I am.” He smirks. Your arms are thrust above you, and you let out a quick mewl as your wrists are pinned together with one of his hands. “And you are going to learn why in a second.” 

Months of tension, loneliness, regret. All of them melted away at the sound of you calling out his name. With the strong arms caging in your vision, veins prominent under their skin, Satoru steadies himself as he slots his cock in between your legs. Your moan at the feel of his nakedness escapes in a soft puff, and your nipples pebble in anticipation. Your boyfriend gazes unabashedly at your sex. When his lidded eyes come up to meet your curious ones, he swoops down to claim your mouth again, tongue rolling across your lips and jutting inside to tether his passion to your heart. You respond in kind, trying and failing to release your arms from his grip above your head. When your attempts prove futile, your whimper echoes into his mouth, and his deep chuckle stirs something primal within your core. 

Satoru’s ravaging continues as he leans his sharp cheekbones into the side of your face, his tongue licking fire along your neck. Unbeknownst to you, one of his hands wanders down to your folds, and you jolt in shock when familiar fingers slide along their path.

“Please,” you gasp in his ear, tightening your arms again and bucking your hips to move anything, anything at all in response to the pleasure. “Satoru, please.” 

“What do you want, hmm?” 

Your first attempt at a response is cut off by his teeth nicking the pulse on your neck, and your entire butt leaves the bed and thrusts into his beautiful fingers, causing them to slide deeper into your cunt. Satoru’s proceeding groan is enough to have you keening back for more, but you still have it in you to answer with, “You.” 

“You already have me.” he says as a matter of factly. 

“No, I mean”—you gasp as he moves his fingers around, thumbing your clit and causing slick to gush from your center—“I mean, I need you.” 

“That’s the same thing, sweet,” Satoru tuts, knowing full well he is being an ass. “I need you to be specific for me.” 

As you feel the incredibly hard cock against your thigh twitch in want, you wonder why the hell your lover is stalling. You try to jerk against his strong restraint on your wrists again, and he laughs at your feeble attempt. “You’re impossible,” you huff. 

“And you’re going to tell me what you want, or else you won’t be getting it.” 

“Baby,” you pleaded, almost certain you weren’t capable of holding it in anymore.

Satoru shoves his hips down into yours, and the feel of his length presses into your core. You cry out in want, thrashing in earnest and groaning in a mix of frustration and pleasure. Smirking, he leans next to your ear and whispers, “Sorry. I just like seeing you like this.” 

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” you huff. 

“When it comes to you? Always.” There is a brief, light slap to your cunt, and your body jolts up until your fingers knock the dark wooden headboard above you. “What do you want, sweetheart?” 

“For my boyfriend to stop being an—” 

Another slap to your aching folds causes your back to arch again, your nipples grazing Satoru’s firm chest. “Try again.” 

You suck in a breath and exhale shakily, your legs straining with the constant pressure against your core and your arms growing beautifully sore above your head. 

“I want it.” You stare right into your boyfriend’s eyes. “I want your cock.” This makes Satoru snicker before his focus goes down to your pussy. 

“Fuck.” Satoru slides his fingers in one long swipe up your cunt again before bringing them to his mouth. As he licks them clean, you let out a shuddering breath, wondering how there is still room for you to swoon. “I knew my girl wasn’t shy.” 

Instead of a biting retort, you watch as Satoru leans down slowly to kiss you once more. He positions himself, sliding his hardened length against your slick folds and letting you feel just how thick and warm he is. 

His lips leave yours too soon, but it’s to tell you, “I’m putting it in, okay?” 

When you nod, Satoru slowly enters, and he’s just as big as before only since it’s been a while, it’s a bit of a stretch. You hiss at the feeling, and Satoru is merciful in the way he releases your wrists to sling an arm behind your head. His eyes never leave yours as he pushes in, inch by inch and both of your mouths fall open at the slick contact. Instead, breath rushes out, mingling warm in the air between your parted lips as you pant in anticipation. His hold on the back of your neck is gentle, and he whispers, “Oh god, thaaat’s it. I missed you so much. I missed this.”

You hum in delight. “Are you sure you missed me and not just the sex?”

“Believe me, it was the only thing that made me look forward to getting out of that place.” he says in a teasing tone. 

“You’re asking to be put back in that box so bad right now.” 

Satoru chuckles again before he leans down to kiss you. “I’m just kidding, baby. Don’t be so serious.” 

“Satoru, you’re killing the mood. Hurry up and fuck me already.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He replies before wasting no time to position his cock at your entrance. Satoru loves how your hair is splayed onto the pillow, teeth sinking into your lower lip as he slowly slides himself into you and it makes his mouth part at the image of it. Your freed hands immediately look for solace on his shoulders, gripping them while you follow his direction and take deep breaths. The intrusion starts to feel welcoming as your cunt adjusts to the sensation, your walls fluttering around his length and starting to suck him in further. 

“You’re so tight…” When Satoru is fully in, he stays as still as he can to let you get used to the feeling. “So, so good for me,” he tells you. “Open your mouth for me.” 

You immediately obey, sucking onto the two fingers he taps against your lips. You hollow your cheeks, and when Satoru groans, you swirl your tongue around his digits.

He swoops in to steal a kiss from you again, and he digs an elbow into the bed for balance as he starts to move. You love the way his brows scrunch in concentration, the way he looks down to watch himself make love to you while in the act, the way he makes you feel nothing and everything at once. When Satoru’s small thrusts end up not being enough, you tell him to go faster. He only laughs before obliging. 

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes. The fingers that had summoned you curl around your chin now, forcing you to look only at him; his grip too strong to break free from.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you grin, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. 

Instead of responding, your boyfriend picks up the pace, his muscles rippling under his sweaty skin and his stray strands of platinum hair bobbing with each motion. Your moans and mewls mix with his deep groans, and you have decided that those are your favorite sound in the world. Maybe even better than the soft pitter patter of the rain that begins to fall outside. Feeling full and complete is unrivaled. 

Flushed and with your eyes squeezed tightly shut, your brow furrowed, you murmur his name senselessly, over and over like a prayer, a plea, a please, please, please that slips in breathless turns from your lips uninhibitedly. 

The feeling gets overwhelming. The more you look at him, the more you feel like you’re about to cry whenever your mind reminds you of what happened. Days where his usual corny jokes and occasionally immature behavior were replaced with days of you being cooped up wishing he’d come back to you, hoping that wherever he was that he’d be okay. You feel the incessant sting at the back of your throat as you fight back the tears that threaten to fall onto your cheeks.

For this beautiful instance in time, nothing matters, absolutely nothing but this. 

Your body is acting on instinct, moving with him and even wrapping legs around his built frame. The grunt and low fuck you get in return is a prize you sigh at, and when Satoru pins your wrists above your head again, you revel in the restraint.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he tells you, to which you respond with a grin. 

Your legs slide against his buttocks and the rest of his skin, but your muscles endure. His cock rubs against your walls in the best way possible—each stroke deeper than the last—and you know you’re close to euphoria. 

But Satoru has different plans. He lunges in with two particularly hard thrusts before he pulls out completely, eyeing your messy state as he pulls you up, shifting you so that you find yourself on your knees somehow, underarms pressed into the mattress when he pushes your torso down with your ass in the air for him. He wastes no time to push his cock into you, pulling out a cry from you. He slides in easily from how wet you’ve gotten when he fucked you on your back. “Fuck you’re so wet for me.” You hear him say from behind you. 

You gasp as you drop down to your elbows from the feeling of him stretching you out in the most perfect way. He gives you a few seconds to adjust before he starts to move, and shameless noises start to leave your mouth instantly. You feel him grab your hips, and he starts to slam you back at the same time he’s thrusting forward, creating a deepness that has you seeing white. He bends over to kiss your back, making you arch yourself more into him. 

“Oh fuck.” you drawl out. 

Satoru’s lips ghost over your ear and you can feel him smirk against your skin when he asks, “You like that baby? You’re gonna show me what I missed, yeah?” he pants.

At this point, you don’t care how loud you’re being. Satoru on the other hand is enjoying this as much as you are. Each thrust has him feeling like he wants to have it his way and cum deep inside you. He moves back to look down where you’re both connecting, taking in the sight of his cock sliding in and out easily of your cunt. His teeth are caught between his lower lip when he sees the white ring around his cock, making him even crazier. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes throughout the room, arousing the both of you even more. Your moans are muffled by the sheets as you bury your face in the mattress. Satoru’s palms imprint their mark on your hips as he pulls them as close as he can while he thrusts repeatedly into you. 

“Ah, Toru, go harder.” you cry out.

“Oh, you feel so good.” he moans as he begins to thrust harder into you. You’re too lost in the pleasure that you can’t find the words to speak. You can only afford to respond with high pitched moans every time the tip of his cock touches that one spot inside of you. You feel yourself nearly reaching your high when suddenly Satoru pulls out again, pushing you onto your back while he steadies himself on his knees. 

“Wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum,” he smiles, before he pulls both of your legs apart to slide his cock up and down between your slick folds teasingly. A groan sounds from his throat, sending a rush through your body when warm lips come down to latch onto your breasts, and you throw your head into the soft pillow beneath you. 

“Satoru...” you whine. “Hmm?” he grins. 

“Stop teasing already.” you sigh in frustration. He chuckles at your neediness. “I know baby, it’s just fun seeing you like this.” You glare at him before you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Satoru takes this as a cue to take full command, settling on his knees and bringing both his hands to grip your hips as he continues to pound himself vigorously into you. No words are exchanged between the two of you, but the feelings are conveyed perfectly. Passion, longing, love. Everything unsaid the day he returned on your doorstep. 

“Oh,” you breathe, “Toru, you feel so good. Please don’t stop.” 

Everything from your hands gripping his arms to the way his cock fills you to the brim is too much, and your legs finally give and slam back down onto the sheets. 

Your body goes limp as Satoru thrusts into you, hard fingers digging wonderfully into your skin and brows knitted in pleasure. He continues to bite down on his bottom lip as he watches his cock disappear in and out of your pussy again and again, and your gaze is hazy as you watch his chest ripple with each thrust, enamored. You find sanity in the taste of his tongue and stability in your fingers grappling for mercy against his shoulder blades, close, so, so close.

You feel it before you recognize the winding. The edge you toppled from before is in reach again, and after a breathy moan you gasp, “I’m close, go faster, please.” 

God. He loves it when you get so needy, so desperate under him like this. He loves the way you call him by his nickname. It shows how much you’re tightly wrapped around his finger. He finds it adorable how one minute you’re giving him an attitude but the next you’re begging for him to fuck you. Just like right now. Which is why he doesn’t mind when you call him an asshole or roll your eyes at him when he says something stupid. Because at the end of the day, Satoru knows how to please you, he knows how to treat you right. That’s why you’re taking him like such a good girl, right? 

“Yeah? Then let go for me, cum for me baby.” he grunts, low and leaving no room for objection. One of his hands reaches down between you, a thumb rubbing your clit lovingly. The feeling is immense, and your vision blanks. Every limb in your body locks with pleasure. You can only describe the feeling as a constant wave crashing against your shore, slamming its powerful crests into you again and again. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You hear the words somewhere above you, but they’re blurry in your ears. 

Finally—slowly—your limbs settle back onto the bed. Satoru smiles down at you before asking, 

“Did I lose you before this?” 

“You’ll never lose me,” you confess truthfully. 

Satoru huffs in amusement before whispering something under his breath. You don’t have time to ask what he said before he starts back up again to chase his own high, and your body is heavy with content as you watch.

A hand threads beneath your hair to curl around the back of your neck and pull you up to press his mouth against yours. His lips are soft, and he sinks into the kiss with teeth and tongue and fire that makes your mind go blank. You let him nip at your lips until they’re swollen and sore, letting him twist his tongue against yours until you’re both gasping and his grip has turned to iron. You pour your entire body and soul into the connection, and your boyfriend's thrusts start becoming frantic and jilted. His free palm grabs your hip to steady your quivering form; your hands swing behind his shoulders. 

Fingers rake marks across his back, and Satoru outright moans into your mouth before his thrusts are so rough that your body is shoved up the bed. 

“I’m not gonna last much l-longer.” He stammers as you begin to tighten around him, letting him know exactly how close you are. His thrusts become quicker and erratic while he leans down closer towards your face. 

You almost feel yourself reaching the third orgasm of the night, but it’s him you want to come before anything else. 

And he does seconds later, his voice gravelly as he groans above your face — your list of favorite sounds forever multiplying. You feel the warm sensation of his cum shoot into your cunt. Your eyes wander up to Satoru’s face, which contorts in pleasure at the new found tightness of your heat. You use your last bit of strength to move your hips along to meet his movements, and then after about a minute he stills himself inside of you. As his forehead presses into yours, you hug him close, almost brought to tears again from the emotions spilling from your chest. For a moment, nothing else exists. Only the feeling of his bare skin sliding against yours, the connection between your legs, and the souls dwelling within appear on this plane. It’s a strange thing to think about. But it is yours to store away in your memory forever.

You both lay there in silence, catching your breath. Basking in the afterglow. Your boyfriend then turns to you, resting on an elbow. The early morning shadow that casts into the room catches onto your skin, painting it with a pale glow, making you appear ethereal. Your lips are softly pouted, dried out roses that puff patient exhalations of air in time with the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

You turn your head to him. “Satoru?”

“What is it?”  

“I love you.” 

“I don’t blame you.” he grins. You glare at him and slap him on the chest making him laugh. “I’m kidding, baby.” He smiles down at you genuinely. “I love you too. More than anything else in the world.” 

Your lips connect, they connect in warm, rosy flesh, as if nothing could ever go wrong. That no matter what obstacles you both face, what hardships you must conquer, you will always get through it together. 

The same three words slip down your face once more and into your mouth, only to be thrown out again as you reciprocate. As you both pant in exhaustion, you already feel sleep start to claim you again as the early morning light peeks through the sheer curtains.

You make love two, four, twenty or a hundred times, enough for you to lose count on your fingers and for the sun to ascend from the horizon. It is moments like this, watching you out of the corner of his eye, absolutely adoring the soft exhalations you let out and beating heart against his bare chest, that he knows what he feels so strongly within his heart is the unconditional truth.

He is helplessly in love with you.

[hazbin-writings-and-musings]

Lucifer Morningstar x Pregnant!Reader Headcanons Part 2

I had a blast writing part 1, so here's some more headcanons of reader progressing through their pregnancy!

Warnings: Pregnancy Mention, Implied Smut

- He doesn't have a pregnancy kink per say, but... seeing you pregnant with his child does things to him that he can't even begin to put into words. He's always found you beyond gorgeous, of course, it's just that now it borders on literal worship. Said worship will be expressed quite physically on a daily basis; he'll slide his hands over your middle, leave trails of kisses up and down your body, and catch himself staring multiple times even before the two of you get out of bed each morning. He can't even really believe that you've somehow managed to get more beautiful, but he'll consistently try to describe the depths of his devotion in song, gifts, and countless hours spent adoring your presence.

- He'll want to start preparing for all baby related events as soon as possible, in part because the arrival of another heir is going to be quite the occasion, but he also just wants everything to go perfectly. The official announcement will come with multiple days of celebration across Hell, including a massive party in the castle itself, and each event that follows will somehow manage to top the last. You'll get enough gifts to fill up multiple rooms, and so many cards with well wishes you could fill up an entire library, but Lucifer expects nothing less. Every ounce of his considerable power is dedicated to making sure you get the best of everything. This dedication also applies to the little things the two of you do together, like decorating the baby's room. He'll insist on hand crafting the furniture, the toys, and every decoration with you directing at his side, and he'll use the most magical materials at his disposal. Hand painting the walls with stardust is not out of the question.

- Things have changed a lot since Charlie was born, and he was previously unaware of the many technological advancements now available for expecting couples, specifically ultrasounds. He's amazed and wants to attend every appointment even more at the prospect of actually seeing your child before they're born. Of course, upon beholding the lopsided blob on the screen for your first check up, he's far more overwhelmed than he could have ever imagined. He can see little hooves and everything! The doctor doesn't quite know what to make of the King near to weeping at the sight of a being no larger than a peanut, but you take it all in stride. Once he finds out that pictures can be taken of the scans, he requests as many as he can carry, and his pockets are bursting with photos of Charlie and her not-yet-born sibling. He'll show them to everyone that does and doesn't ask.

- While he can be overly protective and his efforts to provide for you are more akin to spoiling, he's not at all without cause in doing so; carrying a child of Lucifer is no easy task. As your body becomes the epicenter for a developing power beyond imagination, you'll need him by your side with increasing frequency, especially once the baby's uncontrolled magic starts surging and affecting your reality. You'll be unharmed, but it's still quite nice to have Archangel level powers around to get things back to normal once you start inexplicably walking up the walls, speaking in dead languages or levitating random items with a glance. He takes it all in stride with humorous stories about how Charlie did the same before her arrival, though your cravings for increasingly esoteric rare foods do have him apologizing for the inconveniences of angelic biology, as even he needs a few days to acquire the rarer items your body demands.

- As delighted as he is to have another child, he can't help but be haunted by doubts of all he's done wrong as a father so far. No matter how much of it was out of his control, he fears everything that went wrong will happen again, and that he might just be gaining a second child to fail. It's only through your loving reassurance that he retains some faith in himself, and dares to believe he'll be a halfway decent dad to two children.

[reginnaofallwaters]

☆ HONKAI: STAR RAIL

things that changed since they met you (gn!reader)

featuring: argenti, blade, dan heng, jing yuan

a/n: first time writing for blade and dan heng. might be ooc? oopsie. some of the guys already have an established relationship and some don't :>

☆ ARGENTI

He finds himself falling silent as he admires your beauty.

Argenti is a man of many words. If there is one thing he never runs out of, it's compliments. Constant, sincere compliments stream forth from his lips like a waterfall everytime he sees you. In his eyes, there are so many words in this universe that he can use to describe your beauty. He genuinely loves you and what better way to show it other than the blush-inducing and cheesy compliments he constantly gives?

However, there are times where he falls silent as he gazes at you when you two would be cuddling or you're doing something. It feels a little.. odd sometimes. There's no sudden compliments that are thrown your way or praises sung to your name. It's these moments where he is silent when his gaze is so intense— his emerald eyes practically swimming with devotion and so, so much love for you.

When you softly chuckle and ask why he's staring, he'd only shoot you a charming smile like the lovesick fool he is. He'd tell you it's nothing to worry about, that he's simply appreciating you.

Argenti's praises for you never end but sometimes, beauty is best appreciated in silence.

☆ BLADE

The mara in him dwindles a little by your side.

Immortality comes with a price, Blade learnt that the hard way. Now an immortal, unable to die, and stricken with mara that slowly eats away at his mind, he has to rely on Kafka's Spirit Whisper to keep his mind intact— to keep himself sane. A part of him envies the short-lived, you know. One day, they will get to experience the release he craves so desperately.

Being mara-struck is difficult. Memories of his past always return to haunt him, driving him mad. That's where you come along. Though he's distant, he finds comfort in your presence. Something about you feels safe and warm, helping his mind to ease, to forget the past memories that bubbles in his mind. With you, he feels as though the mara takes a lesser toll in his mind.

He doesn't know why he finds your presence so comforting, but he does know that he needs to keep you safe, though you're perfectly capable of handling yourself. Blade doesn't get too close to you at first, but he keeps an eye on you.

Blade knows that eventually, he'll meet his end– his release, and he doesn't want you to see him go after getting close to you.

☆ DAN HENG

His shy side comes out more often.

Dan Heng isn't the type to openly express his emotions like March 7th. He doesn't have a problem expressing his feelings, he's simply too reserved. Attempting to make Dan Heng laugh, blush, or cry will usually result in a very unimpressed expression gracing his features, which is somehow funnier than trying to make him express the three aforementioned emotions (The Trailblazer told you all about this little experiment with Dan Heng's range of emotions. You aren't too sure what to do with this information, honestly).

Amidst March 7th and the Trailblazer's (failed) attempts in making Dan Heng blush, you discreetly smile to yourself as you send a knowing glance in his direction, which is then returned with a narrowed glare from the man. Little do they know just how ridiculously easy it is to make Dan Heng flush like a tomato.

A surprise kiss on the lips gets him blinking in surprise and you relish in the way his cheeks slowly start to pink as he averts his gaze from you, muttering about something that you can't quite catch. He trusts you the most to.show these emotions of his that others rarely witness themselves. It doesn't matter to him if you tease him to death (much to his disappointment) or kiss him so much til he can't say a single word, as long as it's you.

He'd rather not let the others know though.

☆ JING YUAN

He allows himself to be vulnerable.

Being the Luofu's General is difficult. Though everyone calls him by his moniker as the "Dozing General", Jing Yuan is far more cunning and careful than he lets on. Beneath the lazy smile playing on his lips and the sleepy personality he shows, Jing Yuan never shows an ounce of vulnerability. He never lets his true thoughts and feelings slip. Unfortunately, Jing Yuan has always been quite evasive literally and figuratively.

Very few know of the human lying beneath the surface of the Dozing General. To be honest, Jing Yuan isn't the type to tell you, his partner, his problems either. It's his own way of protecting you from the dangers that the Xianzhou faces. That's why his vulnerability is all the more special to you. It's a testament to the trust he has in you. Though Jing Yuan has many allies, there are very few who know what he truly is thinking and feeling.

He doesn't say that he's worried, no. Instead, he seeks you out, pulling you in a tight embrace, a silent plea for you to stay– to comfort him for a little while. Each time, you oblige, leading him to somewhere more secluded and private so he can cuddle you to his heart's content. Nothing is said, but the atmosphere is comfortable and safe. Nothing is heard except for the soft chirps of the finches hiding in his hair and the content sighs that leaves his dry lips.

Until he gets his energy back, he'll allow himself to be vulnerable around you. Just for today.

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟕: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐝𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐒.𝐌𝐆 ♡

Dedicated To You

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : Your sweet producer boyfriend wanted to share something with you. But your neediness had other plans.

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 :  915

-> ɢ��ɴʀᴇ: Producer Au. Suggestive. Fluff.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Producer!Mingi x F.Reader 

[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Teasing. Clit stimulation. Clit play. Thigh riding. Humping. Some use of fingers. Pet names.

Thank you, @ia-ateezscupid, for requesting Mingi for this story and the plot concept ♡♡♡.

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List

There were two simple rules you had to obey whenever you were in the studio with Mingi. One, always sit on his lap or couch, wherever he could have contact with your body. And two stay quiet unless told otherwise. You see, your lover boy was a very busy man, and normally, if you came over to his studio, it was to drop off food or simply be in his company. But this time, you had headed over to his dark studio for another reason. A reason you would normally wait until he was home to ask for. But tonight was different. Tonight, you needed him so badly that you felt like you were going to combust.

So here you sit, perched so quietly on his lap while his fingers click on a keyboard behind you on the deck, and his other hand rakes the mouse at a vigorous pace. You tried to be still and not disturb him, but you couldn’t help but just re-adjust yourself every so often. Wiggling your hips side to side, raking your hands along his shoulders. You were losing willpower fast, and Mingi seemed to take notice.

But he wanted to tease you a bit, or in this case, torture you a little. He loved seeing you squirm and become all shy when asking for what you wanted. And In this situation, he, too, was craving for the perfect attention. He quickly went back to touching up the song he made, ironically just for you. A bedroom song if you will. He had been wanting to release a new album of ‘sensual’ songs and melodies, and he had some of his favourite artists such as Park Seonghwa and Choi San sing the tracks. He was just about finished with them too and was so excited to show you, since, of course, you were his muse behind them.

But when you stomped into the room in your cute little outfit, huffing for cuddles―even though he knew you wanted more than a simple hug―. He thought of a new idea, one that would get you begging for him. So as he finished up the tracks, after what felt like an eternity. He could finally give his attention to you. “I wanna show you something.” His deep voice suddenly caught your attention, leaning up to see what he wanted.

He pressed some buttons before unplugging his headset so the music could play through the surround sound system in the room. His smirk never fell from his face as he adjusted himself on the chair so you would only sit on one of his thighs. you didn’t notice the sudden position, thinking it was nothing more than him trying to be comfortable. But when the song started to pool out of the stereos, you could hear the filth he created.

The song goes into detail about treating a woman named “Angel” as a goddess. Pampering her with love and devotion and not to mention how good he would fuck her over and over again. It was then when it hit you that the song was dedicated to you. Your nickname he gave you all the time was angel and all the details perfectly describe you to a tea. This man really made a sex song for you.

His hands dance around your hips as you close your eyes to bask in the music around you. He took this moment to lift up your skirt seeing your pink panties wet against his dark jeans. You didn’t even notice him pull your skirt up until his thumb made contact with your clit. “Like the song huh?”

Your eyes snap open, locking with his in a second. Your brows scrunched, gulping slightly at the sensation. His free hand gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back, then forth, in a way that sends pleasure through your system. “Show me how much you liked that song.”

You start grinding your hips without the need of Mingi, bracing yourself on his shoulders. Your little pants started to fill the room alongside the low-based song. You could feel your pussy clench around nothing as your humps got quicker. His thumb didn’t move off it’s spot, letting you use not only his thick thigh but his large thumb for stimulation. Eyes rolling back you found the perfect pace, losing yourself trying to reach your climax. Mingi could tell you were going to come any second so without another moment his lips latched onto your neck, sucking a hard purple mark along your jugular that you are going to have to explain to your friends tomorrow.

“Min..I, Fuck…” Your brain was in scrambles, and you could get even a single sentence out before moaning or whimpering soon after. You were so close just a little further, your grinding so harsher and harsh, needing the blissful release, and when Mingi clenched his thighs, you lost it. Coming so hard, you saw stars. He finally moved his hand away from your clit, letting you exhale a shaky breath. He wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you close into a tight embrace. The song finished shortly afterwards, now bringing silence into the room, with slightly panting and heavy heartbeats.

“So I’m assuming you liked the song.” He asked, making you giggle sightly before leaning up to kiss his cheek with a goof smile painting both your and his features.

“Yes, I love it…”

- ♥︎

[musicalmoritz]

The common misconception that Akane has no personality outside of Aoi is a sign of immaturity among many fans, in my opinion. This isn’t really their fault, seeing as the majority of the tbhk fandom is on the younger side, but it’s still something that should be noted

When people say this, they are talking about his hobbies. It’s true that every hobby Akane has is something he started to impress Aoi. I’m of the firm belief that he stayed on the Student Council because he enjoys it but that’s slightly up to interpretation (it could also be a way for Teru to keep an eye on him). However, in general, Akane doesn’t seem to have much going on outside of Aoi. His favorite food is something he imagines her baking for him, he joins clubs based on what type of guys she shows interest in, the books he reads all have a character that shares her name, and when she asks him what he enjoys, his response is “I like you, Aoi.” He’s even shown to zone out of conversations when Aoi isn’t mentioned. This is clearly unhealthy, though he does eventually learn to give her some distance which is beneficial to the both of them. But he still doesn’t seem to actively engage in hobbies that have nothing to do with Aoi

This is a consistent character flaw, but it does not mean Akane has no personality or character outside of Aoi. This is where the immaturity bit comes in, kids want to describe themselves entirely based on their interests. With the rise of fan culture and the internet, many adults do the same. It’s not just a young people problem, it’s an issue of how we identify ourselves. We like to put people into categories, understanding them based on their hobbies and careers. These are very important elements of identity, but they aren’t everything. A person with no job and no hobbies is still a person. They might struggle due to having no outlet for their creativity, but they are a person nonetheless

Fandoms notoriously love to understand characters based on their niche interests. Aoi is a gardener, Hanako loves the moon, Nene plays idol games, Teru has a very sad life. These are absolutely elements of their characters, but there’s more to them than their hobbies. They have personalities too, goals and passions outside of what they do in their free time

Akane puts his all into helping others, he takes his Student Council duties very seriously and keeps his hands full during every school event. He is a very empathetic character, able to understand characters like Aoi, Teru, and Nene without them having to tell him what they need. He’s competitive, as seen in his friendship with Teru. He’s romantic, as is the driving force of his character (and romance is a perfectly acceptable goal, marriage is one of the most common things for a person to strive towards in life). He’s violent and overprotective, striking down any man who makes Aoi uncomfortable. He’s emotional, prone to fits of joy, anger, and tears. He’s easily annoyed and carries a chip on his shoulder, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to help people. He hates supernaturals because of how they hurt others, and despite his stance as a School Mystery, he is so painstakingly human. He can be aggressive, especially when someone he loves is trying to do something self-destructive. He cares so deeply for people, wearing his heart on his sleeve. He’d stay up all night playing video games if it made the girl he loves happy, but he won’t attack Teru for having genuine feelings for her. He’s incredibly loyal. He’s also casually bisexual so there’s that

Idk there’s just so much more to Akane’s character than people give him credit for, I didn’t even cover everything. Remember when you’re analyzing a character, it’s important to look deeper than “they enjoy this” or “this is their job.” Akane may devote so much of his life to Aoi, but he is still his own person, whether he realizes that or not

I am begging ya’ll to stop throwing the “no character outside of Aoi” allegations at this man

[mossyvil]

vil thoughts yay!!! i love this man so much it's not even funny ough... :') 🩷

get this; vil with an s/o that treats him like an actual princess. not in the way that belittles his queen, fairest of them all title, in fact it follows it perfectly,,, but i mean it in a soft way. like his s/o will look at him and go "I would go to the ends of the earth for you",,, vil knows how devoted his lover is, and he can't help but feel a new sense of praise,,,

and you know just reciprocating that feeling of safety and comfort that he brings,,, giving him warm hugs, spooning him while in bed with his head on your chest, kissing his face slowly and tenderly,,,, and always giving him genuine compliments far beyond what he usually gets from his status and the parasocial relationship with his fans,, just reverent, you know? idk im just so soft for him and i want him to have a soft relationship where he finds comfort in his lover :') 🩷 🩷

i want this injected into my bloodstream

giving vil the soft relationship he deserves!!!!!! he really enjoys praise from his partner because he knows it’s coming from a place of actual love for him, and not just the image he shows his fans. it feels like it’s actually for him, not the actor and model that the world sees. and you can tell he likes it, he gets this very content look on his face that can only be described as soft. all the tension in between his brows fades and everything that’s been weighing on him falls away when he hears your praises for him. he’s also a very big fan of being the little spoon, he loves the feeling of safety he gets in your arms and he feels so close to you with his head on your chest. gently play with his hair and he’s in heaven. a very devoted partner may seem like it would be something he wouldn’t like, considering he has millions of devoted fans throwing themselves at him all day, but it feels so comforting when it’s you. letting himself go to your love is a welcomed break to acting like the perfect celebrity everyone wants him to be. and that’s not to say he doesn’t reciprocate- he does, very well in fact, but he savors the moments where it’s just the two of you and he feels completely and utterly safe in your arms and he has nothing to worry about until the next morning

[rom-e-o]

A Moment of Weakness (Emmrich/OC)💚F!Rook

The game isn't even out. We don't know Emmrich's personality, VA, ... really, anything beyond the bare bones as I write this ... but I couldn't help myself! I hope this little story is enjoyable, despite inaccuracies, haha!

TW: alcohol mention/mild tipsy behavior.

It had started with a simple sentence, but one that Emmrich immediately realized was shrouded in complex sentiment.

Hours before, Belisma (“Rook”, as she was affectionately called) had knocked on the door to his study and invited him to share a drink with him. More specifically, she had wanted to toast a successfully long day of battles and negotiations by imbibing together at the Lighthouse, a base that was unnerving as it was beautiful. She had even surprised him with a dusty bottle of red imported right from Nevarra. It carried the region’s distinct fruity notes; a stark contrast to the stench of death and semi-permanent haze of stale incense the region was known for.

Perhaps that was why such bottles were so coveted. Even he, with all his knowledge and history of the reason, carried not the knowledge of a versed sommelier. He did know, however, that the drink was strong.

The drink had boosted their spirits quickly, and loosened lips even more so.

Moments before, he'd been laughing amicably at an amusing anecdote she'd told him about an awkward encounter with a former suitor. Quite the crude young man, from what the woman had described. Hardly someone suitable for a woman like her, he'd thought.

Then, she’d let the sentence slip.

"I’m glad I can be useful here … I’m more suited for the battlefield than a quiet life anyway.” Then, she added, "Could you imagine … me, with a husband waiting for me back home? What poor soul could I do that to?”

Emmrich, dressed casually in a starched shirt and trousers (but still adorned in his rings and jangling bangles), paused to flick his gaze at present company.

"What?"

With a little hiccup, she allowed herself to sink against the weight of the table. "It's amusing, isn't it?"

"What is?" Emmrich prodded, a silver brow lifted. Her self-deprecating words had sobered him. "The thought of you with … a husband?”

"Right," she said. "Or a lover or ... someone of similar station. Even if someone was interested, I have nothing to offer. Mages aren’t exactly known for their large dowries and influence – even the wealthiest ones – compared to normal nobles.”

She paused, her eyes drifting askance as she tapped her nails on the oak table. “That was what he said, anyway.”

"Who?"

"Cyril," she reminded him. "I just told you about him. He was my last ... suitor, I suppose. I was 25. We met in a Circle. It feels like yesterday, but... his words stuck. Evidently."

The man gently lowered his chalice onto the table, the sweet wine forgotten. His eyes, rimmed with intrigue but touched with sadness, examined her. While a devoted scholar, Emmrich was also a man with decades of experience working with peers of many ages and backgrounds. Many called him a gentleman for the ways he seemed to invite conversation and put others at ease, but he preferred to his he simply put proper effort into listening. He leaned in, encouraging her to say more.

The silent prodding bore fruit. "I mean, it's inarguable. Look at me."

He did. He had been since they'd started working alongside each other.

He saw a lovely woman, just a small handful of years younger than him. She was a head shorter than him, with a feminine but muscled build from years of training as a mage and honing her skills. Her jaw, cut perfectly square enough to put the gems on any viscount's ring to shame, was adorned with bright eyes and lips that were ... very pleasant.

Her eyes reflected the color of freezing cold sap, tapped from the tree of Emprise du Lion. Her lips, painted with a swatch of coral, looked full and soft as far as he could tell. He hadn't been blessed enough to feel them pillow against his skin, but he could imagine. Her skin bore a light tan, and her hair swung gaily over her shoulders with each spin and flip on the battlefield. Starlight-gray waves sprouted from her scalp, and he thought they framed her face beautifully. Elegantly.

"I ... see you," he said carefully. He stammered a moment, eyes still searching for what she could mean. “I see you quite well, as a matter of fact.”

To him, she looked like a partner anyone would be lucky to have.

"Well, there you go," she added with a light, almost flippant laugh.

"I fail to see what's funny."

"...Emmrich, you don't have to be polite," she said, her voice becoming softer as a result of his stern but inquisitive tone. “I’m not a child.”

"I am being honest, with the politeness always secondary," he reminded her. “Lucanis can testify to that.”

A tense beat of silence passed. Before he could speak up, she sighed and pushed her chalice away. It flared bottom skipped lightly across the uneven wood grain. "I-I'm sorry. That's my cue. I’ve had enough to drink, I believe."

Another shaky laugh left her. Emmrich heard a telltale tremble in her voice, and rose to pursue her.

"Belisma, wait—”

"I’m sorry," she said, cutting him off. Palm flattening against the wall to better support her weight, she made her way toward the great hall's door to exit.

It only took one hobble for him to round the table after her. "You’re unsteady. I'll walk you."

"Please. Stay."

A man of many years, he could easily transcribe her true request from the dismal look on her face: “Keep back and let me go.”

So, he did.

Not one to disobey their leader, especially when she requested something so simple, he respected her desire for space. Falling back, he watched her go. She did not falter again, from what he could see.

Her shadow eventually slinked out of the room and to the left, which was the path he knew led to her quarters. As he watched her vanish into the night-darkened halls of the base, regret filled his lungs like sea water.

He should have said something sooner.

Night.

Night in the Fade was … very similar to the day, he had to admit. It wasn’t even really night, he supposed. Just an agreed upon hour where they all stole moments of slumber between onslaughts of enemies.

Back home, night was the most comfortable hour for the necromancer, as it shrouded the work in a silver-tinted darkness. Temperatures cooled, and his mind could home in better on his duties as an esteemed member of the Mourn Watch. Night was a time for study; a time for work. A time for solving problems he refused to let fester.

Here, the air still shimmered like mica, but the sky did not grow inky like it did in the mortal realms. Its comforts felt somewhat hollow, but it was all he had, so he took them.

When the Lighthouse was quiet save for his footsteps, he left his chamber and began to walk.

Emmrich knew his destination, in theory. There was a sparse list of places their Rook would, or could, travel to for relaxation. One of those areas was a small room located a few floors up, overlooking the Fade’s ever-twitching horizon. A small, stone room where mages could practice magic without risk of rogue spells hurting others.

Upon arriving at the room, he heard her voice from within. Grunts and yells of exertion peppered the otherwise quiet air. The older man took a deep breath, which served the dual purpose of bolstering his confidence as well as calming his racing heart.

He knocked. A beat of silence passed.

Then, a voice called from beyond the iron-enforced frame. "Come in."

A pleasant voice. A kind, womanly, familiar voice that could lure enamored men to burn their tomes for her.

Ignoring that he fit into that category all too neatly himself, he swallowed and entered the chamber. As he laid his palm against the frame, the metal was warm to the touch, even through his adorned glove.

The room was built from stone, top to bottom, with only a few slots to serve as windows. They also provided the handy attribute of ventilation, as this chamber was one mages utilized to train their abilities.

It was quite common to enter the training room to find the air crackling with electricity, or to nearly slip on ice-covered stones from the last mage practicing a bout of freezing spells.

In this case, Belisma appeared to be practicing fire magic. Her staff drawn and the smell of cinder permeating the air, she turned and gave the visitor a smile. The iron-clad tip of her staff still burned red-hot in the semi-darkness as she turned to him.

"Oh! Emmrich."

She looked pleased to see him on the surface, but he knew her better by now. There was a slight, nervous way her lower eyelids would upturn when she peered at him, like she was squinting through him, as if to see better intentions.

Nodding, he risked a step forward. "I thought I heard you in here. I ... wanted to check on you."

Although he spoke carefully, her face still fell at his admission. "Ah. Because of earlier."

"Yes, earlier."

A measured sigh snaked in and out of her lungs.

"It … was a moment of weakness," she confessed, hands dropping to her sides. He noticed with a heavy heart that she cast her gaze to the opposite corner of the room. An obvious sign of shame. "I shouldn't have burdened you with that. I'd had too much to drink and ... I suppose the ghosts of the past got a hold of me. I apologize."

"You needn’t apologize for that," he said kindly. "You're hardly the first one to divulge personal secrets over a chalice of wine, and I'm sure you'll be far from the last."

Her brown eyes sought his. "W-Well, when you put it like that ... perhaps you're right."

"I often am," he teased.

She smiled at that, and his heart leapt again. Gods above, how had any man made the woman before him feel unworthy of affection. Had time-altering spells been more his forte, he might have chanced traveling back a few decades just to clobber the fool with a skull. Or two. Perhaps a dragon skill, if he could lift it. Taash could help, he reasoned.

As the silence spurred his thoughts, it quieted hers in tandem. She sighed, tapping the leather-wrapped end of her staff’s hilt against the floor.

In a split second, bright sparks flitted between the crevices in the stone, snaking their way upwards through the narrow channels until the fire leads to the wicks of the candles adorning the room's small chandelier. With the formerly cavernous room now aglow with firelight, he could more keenly observe a notable flush to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I'm glad I didn't scare you away from wanting to talk to me."

He snorted in amusement. "It'll take more than banter to scare me, dear."

The realization of the term slipping out hit too late, and he cleared his thought awkwardly. "I-I've seen more death than some armies, you know. So n-no. Not scared at all. No."

He heard her chuckle warmly at his stammering. Perhaps she found it endearing, he hoped.

Nonetheless, fighting his own blush now, a hand lofted to scratch his temple. It was also his turn to look away, lest he become lost in those syrupy eyes again.

“I promise to hold my drink better when we hold our next private celebration,” she noted gaily. “You won’t have to listen to an old maid ramble, haha. Nobody here needs that in our only place of respite.”

Just as Emmrich had turned to scuttle away, he was lured back. “Stop that.”

She paused, glancing up at him. “Hm?”

“Stop with the self-depreciating comments, Belisma.”

Unlike his voice before, which had wavered from boyish shyness, his tone in the moment was pure bravado. He allowed himself to take pleasure in watching her cheeks turn cherry-red. Despite the color that bloomed on her face, her eyes remained glued to him.

“E-Emm—”

“You are a woman of immense talent and beauty, and while I enjoy your company here more than the company of any other, I cannot abide by you taking every opportunity to be so disparaging of yourself.”

He took a step toward her, and Maker, she stayed in place. He didn’t so much as take a breath as he dared to advance another. Before he knew it, it had crossed the threshold between them enough for their chests to barely touch. He couldn’t help but note that she was even more captivating from this angle.

“You are our leader, a talented mage, and your dedication to leading us through this rather unprecedented situation is nothing short of remarkable,” he reminded her.

“You think—”

“You call yourself an ‘old maid’? Please. You are an incredible woman, and any soul across Tevinter, Nevarra, or bloody Thedas would be lucky to share a room, or a drink, with you. I certainly am.”

He saw her eyes widen, but he couldn’t stop himself. The floodgates had opened, and it was impossible to bring them crashing down again.

“They’d be even luckier to have you as a partner…a lover, as you said before.”

A stern finger lofted to prod her collarbone lightly, a gesture that would have potentially felt patronizing if they weren’t too adults that seemed to be drifting closer by the second.

The next words caught in his throat.

“A-As I…should …”

The molten intrigue in her eyes vanished in that moment. With the poise he often saw her display on the battlefield, her eyes fell shut as she flowed forward.

He braced for a slap, but felt her lips press against his instead.

Maker, he thought in a blitz of passion, how long had it been since anyone had kissed him? Decades, probably. The thought was met with fleeting entertainment, but quickly passed as he realized he wasn’t going to overthink himself out of appreciating the moment.

He leaned in, hands finding purchase on her hips for balance.

Her lips, as he’d thought, were so soft. They became even more pliable when he reciprocated, angling his head in a way so that slotted his nose beside hers and pressed hard into her cheek. The better angle allowed him to nudge all the closer. Her bottom lip was nestled between his at first, but with another sway of their bodies, she tilted away, and he took the opportunity to take that lip between his teeth just slightly.

He worried for a moment it was too forward, but concerns melted when she moaned (gods, a glorious sound!) and inched her arms upward. First, she gripped his shoulders. Then, her arms wrapped around his neck, nudging their pounding hearts into further alignment.

Just the scrape of his teeth made her gasp again, and her strong arms hauled him closer. With her bosom pressed to his chest and their thighs flush, it was euphoria. The man was too enamored to realized that he’d walked her backward across the room, pressing her to the stone wall gently. Unable to help himself, he smiled against the kiss, and she chased that smile with her own.

When they parted for air, panting and breathless, he stared into her eyes. They looked even darker than they had before. All the more tempting to become lost in them, he noted.

“I…I have not been kissed in a very, very long time …” he admitted breathlessly.

Belisma’s lips, now a slightly more muted shade after he’d kissed her lipstick off, curved into a smile.

“I’ve never been kissed like that,” she confessed with a whisper. “Ever.”

Shared mirth leapt between them, and he dared to rest his forehead against hers.

“P-Perhaps I should get tipsy more often if it leads to pleasant moments like this.”

A laughter, warm like summer thunder, rumbled in his chest. He eyes crinkled as he cupped her cheek, noting how she leaned int his touch.

“Well,” he husked, his voice shifting to a pleasant burr as he urged her close, “All the more reason from you to not drink alone again, dear.”

This time, he leaned in to capture her lips against his.

And she, their fearless Rook, leaned into him with abandon.

I'm now going to go back to begging BioWare for crumbs, haha.

[360iris]

I don’t really write smut nowadays but fuck it— without further ado, here’s my nsfw moon knight system headcanons (plus scene blurbs)

Steven is considerate. You could use a myriad of words to describe how he is in bed in fact, like attentive, or accommodating and devoted to pleasing you.

The word that truly encapsulates the experience, that describes what mindset he so seamlessly slips into when his eyes darken and his objective becomes razor focused however, would be generous.

Because Steven, first and foremost, always aims to please when it comes to you. He wants to know that you’re throughly satiated and well aware of how desirable you are in his eyes.

A misconception you’d had early on in your relationship with him was that he’d be gentle, in a borderline overboard kind of way. Not that you would have minded much, but somewhere along the line you’d just convinced yourself that he’d be soft, meek and docile— looking to you for encouragement, or perhaps even instruction on more than one occasion.

You most certainly did not expect for Steven to be the type of man that uses you like he needs it.

Like nothing in the world could get between him and his objective to have your cum covering him, sliding down his fingers and dripping from his wrists. His nose, chin and throat wet from how ferociously he eats you out.

Steven fucks you dumb, making it his personal mission to have you cum so many times that you lose count, but don’t worry because he never does.

“The kitchen counter is cold, the metal handle to the cabinets that currently press into your shoulders even moreso, but you deem the momentary discomfort minuscule and insignificant to the sexual tension that surrounds you and your boyfriend.

The unadulterated want courses through you like electricity. It makes you jittery, causing your hands at your sides to clench at nothing, making futile clawing motions on the dark surface as your pupils dilate, swallowing your irises whole and perfectly mirroring his reflection back at him.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed by how intense and delicious a simple caress of the tips of his fingers against your covered bundle of nerves feels— because it’s a signifier of how desperate you are for him, but any inklings of potential shame are quickly smothered in a blinding instance when his hand slips past the band of your underwear.

The pads of two coarse fingers set into a rotating circular motion as his left hand palms and firmly squeezes at the exposed skin of your thigh, holding your legs open even as you twitch from pleasure.

His grip maintaining even as you begin flinching and jolting in small, sporadic bursts. Even as you helplessly grip at the material clothed on his broad shoulders, cry into his collar and cum so intensely the long sleeves of his shirt are wet to his forearms.

Steven is many things, can be described many ways but above all else, he is generous in his affection and in the way he makes love.”

Jake could be described as rough, unrelenting. Possessive even, in the way he commands so much of you, that he might as well be taking all you have to offer and what remains after that too.

He’s consuming, with a hungry, ravenous sort of appetite for you, you, you.

Jake’s guaranteed to take the cake for the messiest fucks you’ve ever had.

He wants you wanton and cock drunk. Demanding nothing short of your makeup ending the night smeared and unrecognizable to its initial form, with his spit on your face and his cum dripping out of your cunt.

In the way that Steven uses you like he needs the satisfaction of knowing your pleasure is a direct product of his labor— Jake uses you as though you were a sex doll, made for his pleasure, for his use.

Though it’s not to be mistaken that he doesn’t care for you, when on the contrary the man loves you like you were akin to a cherished stuffed animal.

He focuses in on you, making the act of fucking you his only priority and mission. And you can’t say he doesn’t play to his strengths, doing his job well.

“Perhaps not every woman, but as you imagined it, most women wanted to feel pampered and special during sex.

A nice dinner date beforehand, the end result happening somewhere comfortable and lush, like in a comfortable bed fitted with soft sheets, a plush duvet and fluffy pillows. The whole nine yards laid out essentially.

You wondered how many expected to end the night like you were, slouched in the fine leather seat of your partner’s limo? Your left leg extended and pressed against your chest, leaving your core as open as the space— and your current level of flexibility, would allow for.

But you were more than certain that not many could say they’d experienced Jake Lockley like this. His cap, gloves and outerwear long since discarded. His pupils blown as his hips surge forward, hips meeting your own in ferocious and sturdy thrusts that have you moaning unintelligibly.

“Keep your leg up.” He commands, growling into the juncture of your neck as he maintains such a relentless speed— the intensity making it increasingly difficult to hold your limb up without any additional assistance.

After a particularly penetrating slip of his cock, your grip falters for the umpteenth time and Jake’s retribution is swift and brutal but sweet as he finally takes charge of the one task you were currently fucked too dumb to do.

The trimmed nails of his left hand dip into your thigh, creating half moons in their wake as his other hand finds it’s way into your hair. Looping his fingers into the strands, he issues out a rather punishing tug.

Freeing his digits only to give your face a disciplinary slap that seems to offer less towards correcting your insubordination, and more towards encouraging it as you simply moan shamelessly in the wake of the sting.

The sharp impact easily overshadowed by the resounding sloshes that originate further bellow. Slick thoroughly coating your thighs, his cock and the snow white leather of the seats below you.”

Marc’s method is slow and purposeful. He prefers to take his time with you.

It’s always the little things with him. Like the way he makes a point of holding the back of your neck, his forehead resting against yours as he thrusts in such a deliberate and gradual manner— all just so he can make sure you feel every inch fill you up before hollowing you out again.

He’s needy, just as he wants you to be for him. He’s also firm in his grip on your body as he pleasures you. Marc always makes sure to hold you close to him, as though you’d slip out of his grasp like drifting sand.

This is also the reason he has a bit of a cum play kink? Though it’d have less to do about “breeding” and more to do with claiming you as his own.

Marc wants to leave you used simply because he quietly enjoys the sight of his cum leaking from you; and loves the act of slipping your underwear back over the mess to have you walk around with.

Orgasms are more impactful and earth-shattering focused with him because he wants you to be obsessed with how he makes you feel. He wants to leave you unwilling to ever settle for fucking anyone else again.

This guy has the most debilitating praise kink, and that means that simple phrases like ‘good boy’ don’t cut it! You have to get creative and personal!

He would absolutely dematerialize and reform into the most feral version of himself if you ever whispered, “Your cock is made for me, baby. I need you, Marc. I need you, honey.” —into the shell of his ear as he fucked you.

“Desire is generally a fickle concept. People’s feelings ever changing and fluctuating in the same way nature alternates between seasons.

What someone wants today, they scoff at tomorrow, rolling past wants off their plates like freezer burnt peas.

When it came to Marc, the things that he wanted seemed to stay the same. He was just a simple guy like that, in a sense. Old fashioned and committed once he had his mind set.

Marc makes how head over heels in love he is with you abundantly clear, every time he fucks you.

With the way he holds you in between his arms and against his chest like he never wants to let go. And the way he makes a mission out of kissing every inch of your face, no matter how sweaty you are.

He wants his love to forever be a part of you and he’ll get the job done, no matter how many kisses it takes.

Though you keep this tidbit to yourself, your favorite part of sex with Marc is when he cums.

He’s all tensing muscles, deep breathy moans and needy hands that grasp for you as he struggles to make his way back through the foggy veil of dopamine-induced euphoria.

The man having a habit of fighting through his pleasure like he’s being forced to wade through high levels of water. But you try to make it as calming as possible, mouthing at his Adam’s Apple with tentative nibbles and kissing into the curve of his jawline as he rides it through.”

a/n: just finished my final proof reading! this took me days to work on in short sections because I have work and stuff— but reading everything back has me so shdhdh lmao this is just so hornknee!!

this really isn’t something I do much of anymore because i find my old nsfw fics to be really cringe,, anyway I hope you guys enjoy it 🫣🫠😩😭

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

If it’s okay, can we have a short story or headcanon (whichever works) of w!finn/y!finn witnessing orchid’s first murder and comforting them from their panic attack as he helps them hide the body/ evidence?

Killing might seem bad. But I'm here, don't worry.

TW: Typical yandere stuff, first killing, description of an open head wound,

For some reason they were numb, the shock of their actions weighed in the air. The shovel they held had that women's blood on it, of they focused on the sound, they could hear the blood lightly tapping on the floor. Creating a small puddle at their feet, but they couldn't stop.

Raising the shovel again, Orchid was angry. At the situation they gotten themselves in, this woman below Orchid caused so much trouble. She kept flirting with Finn, even after all the times the blonde shot her down and kept trying.

"...Orchid."

Why....Why couldn't she fucking get the hint? Finn was so OBVIOUS about his devotion to them. How fUCKING BLIND WAS SHE? Did she not hear Finn praising them, how amazing and perfect they were for him?

"Orchid."

Frustrated tears fell, Orchid didn't want to do this. But seeing that woman, Eva, someone who couldn't believe Finn didn't like her back. Kept PUSHING, trying to stalk Finn and do other things that he ONLY allowed ORCHID to do.

"Orchid, do you hear me?"

The woman's head was smashed in, blood was splattered everywhere as Orchid kept hitting the same spot. They could see some of her brain on the floor from the repeated hits to the head. Then, a gentle hand touched their arm. Turning they saw Finn smiling at them, his silver hair falling perfectly.

"Orchid!" Hearing their name, Orchid flinched as they listenedto Finn, "she's dead. You don't need to continue." Whispering, the words made them look down. Seeing the opened head made them turn and throw up.

They didn't know they were sobbing until Finn held their face. Making them look at him as he quietly shushed them. Bringing them close and rocking them, were they always capable of doing this?

"Orchid, I know it's overwhelming at first. But, you did nothing wrong." Sternly explaining, soft hand made them look away from the dead body. The words to describe Finn's face was, proud, proud that Orchid was willing to do this.

Sure, they did do this because the jealously and anger that Eva wasn't taking Finn seriously. She only liked him for looks, Orchid saw all of him and loved it. Even if he did do too much on some occasions but they never stopped him.

"Come on, let's get you in the car. I'll get the body in the trunk." Smiling, Finn helped Orchid up and got them in the passenger seat. Orchid sat in the car, blankly looking out the window and then down at the review mirror.

Finn, wrapping up the head tightly had a smile. Seemingly to be giggling to himself as be dragged Eva's body to the trunk. Luckily they were pretty deep into the forest near Finn's cottage.

Turning their head Orchid pulled down the sun visor, looking over their face. Blood was speckled on their face lightly, looking down they saw their hands. The sudden realization of all the blood made Orchid look back up.

They had a crazed smile, was that really them? Thoughts were cut off by Finn closing the trunk and getting back into the car. Turning to his lover he smiled brightly, looking them over and leaning to give them a kiss.

"Don't worry yourself over the body, Orchid. I'll handle that. Luckily, you killing close to the forest was a good planning in your part." Giggling out, Finn pecked their cheek. Starting the car and driving the short distance to his cottage.

Parking Finn got out and went to the passenger side. Opening the door and making a butler type gesture giving out his hand. Pulling a laugh out of them, Orchid took his hand and got out still holding hand they went to the trunk.

"Orchid, please go open the green house? I think Cleopatra would love to eat this. I've been meaning to get her human meat for her growth." Chatting as if Orchid didn't just kill someone. Nodding, the now, new killer walled to their boyfriends greenhouse.

Opening the door and sighing as they see all the flora, Finn had made and collected. Smiling to themselves, Orchid couldn't help but wonder if they could get use to this? Turning their head they watched as Finn dragged the body to the greenhouse.

[keresnotceres]

MW2 CHARACTERS: as Lovers (explained through songs)

[sfw] cw(s): lyrics/themes of death, mentions of abuse/ghost's past, brief mentions of sex

i spent an embarrassing amount of time on this, so enjoy it lol.

Ghost is disastrously Everlong (Foo Fighters). The genuine emotion that song manages to evoke in me is painful and refreshing at the same time — that’s the type of feeling Simon “Ghost” Riley exudes.

As a lover; he’s very distant at first. He refuses to become more attached to you than he already is — convinced he’s going to lose you too (or, worse, become his father). It very likely takes him years to truly open up to you about everything, and when you don’t stop loving him, he never want to leave your side. Ghost likely feels like he is never going to do enough for you until the two of you finally have that unbreakable connection, and then he finds himself to be everything you could ever need through your actions/words.

The instrumental sections, especially the part that emulates the opening of the song after the second chorus. The change from strong drums and electric guitar to the simple bass line and indistinguishable radio chatter that slowly ramp up into the loudness again is so goddamn emotional. If that isn’t Ghost then I don’t know what else is.

Ghost is one of the most tragic characters in MW2, Everlong has an incredibly emotional tone that perfectly captures the feeling of tragedy, something Ghost has been through countless times. This heavily reflects in his romantic relationships.

Lyrics such as “Come down and waste away with me” and “If everything could ever be this real forever / If anything could ever be this good again” are so Ghost coded, especially when it would come to your relationship.

Gaz has intense Die For You (The Weeknd) energy. Do I really have to explain? (Yes the fuck I do) Gaz is absolutely smitten with you, there's no damn doubt, and he will express it to you in any possible way he can, even if the two of you are in a rough patch.

Gaz is likely very in tune to his emotions, but that doesn't mean he can express them that easily. That being said, the one thing he can express without a hitch is his devotion and love for you. It doesn't matter how long he spends away from you, how long it's been since he last spoke to you, the first words out of his mouth upon seeing you are "I love you." There is nothing in the mortal plane that could stop him from loving you, he would do fucking anything to be able to be yours and have you be his. However, he finds issue in communicating issues he has, whether it be ones to do with the relationship or outside of it.

He has a need to be in control of the emotional state he's in, which makes a relationship with him a bit difficult. He'll do his best to change how you feel about something just to make it match his, or he'll try to mold a situation into something it's not so that he can find a way through it without making himself vulnerable.

The background music of Die For You manages to be something playable in a club, but emotional at the same time, which is rather conflicting when it comes to trying describe it. But that makes it utterly perfect to describe Gaz with.

"The distance and the time between us / It'll never change my mind" has major Gaz vibes due to the obvious divide between the two of you whenever he's deployed, but also because there's sometimes going to be an emotional distance between the two of you if he finds he can't communicate his.

Soap is so RUNNING OUT OF TIME (Tyler, The Creator) coded you gotta believe me here. I find Soap to be subdued when it comes to you; the military aggression he can be so capable of slips away when it comes to love you. This is why I chose this song instead of the other IGOR songs.

I see Soap as someone who gets into a relationship quickly so that they don't get bored of being in a "talking stage." Soap often feels that you'll get bored of him, especially when his thoughts slip to you when he's deployed. He's not home as often as another man could be, he can't spend all the time in the world with you -- he's always so scared that he'll come home to any empty flat after you left, too bored of being alone. Due to this fear, Soap tries him damn best to show off just how much he loves you any time he can, he becomes so involved with you he almost has nothing else in his life happening except for you.

Very much intense in his loving, would probably do anything you asked of him, and years of reliance on others in the military has left him needing that energy reciprocated. There's a sense of security he feels knowing that you would do what he would do for you.

I feel like the instrumental sections of the song are reminiscent of Soap's personality when he's with you. He doesn't have to be calm and militaristic, but he doesn't have to play up the energetic part of him. With you, he's able to be genuinely happy and has a somewhat bubbly go-with-the-flow disposition . The electric synth-y sounds of the outro and breaks between verses showcase this type of feeling very fell.

"Your waves wash over me / I drift to the deep end" is a really representative pair of lyrics for Soap, he's just in love with you that he's willing to go to the farthest lengths for you.

Price probably looks like he should be some 80s love song, and he does, but I am a firm believer that he is a Florence + The Machine song, specifically her cover of Stand By Me (a song from 1962). Price is likely more emotional around you than his boys, so you get to see a softer, probably sadder version of him.

Emotionally matured in his years of military service, and it shows in the way he loves you. He adores being domestic with and for you; just waking up in bed to you sound asleep next to him is enough for to make him happy. Likes to be by your side, holding you. It's comforting to him to know that you're there, to know he's there with you, and that he's surviving for you. Price lives for you because he knows that his death would be a devastation to you, the same way your death would hurt him irreversibly. To Price, you are home and you are safety. Coming back to you after being gone for months is one of the best feelings he has ever felt.

He's very work-oriented, almost to the point that, if he's exhausted enough, he might treat you as if you were one of his soldiers. It doesn't take him long to realize what he's doing, and he'll feel extremely guilty after it (even if you assure him it's alright). He'll let you take care of him after this, you can convince him to rest because he feels too bad to say no to you.

Florence's version of the song is much more orchestral than the original version, a harp is one of the first things you hear, along with other string instruments. It's flowy, almost water-like, and most of all, calming; it feels like a falling asleep with the window open on an autumn night, which fits Price immaculately well. The swell in the music is even calming to some degree. The amount of emotion in the song makes it all the more loving.

"I won't be afraid / Just as long as you stand, stand by me," demonstrates the comfort that he feels with you, how you are the one thing that he can rely on to be safe.

Alejandro would've been Lorde coded, but you guys have to hear me out on this one. This man is the epitome of That's All (Kris Jonathon). Alejandro is devoted to you in every sense of the word, he is so utterly in love with you that he is yours.

Alejandro is, and always has been, a lover at his core. He's charming and affectionate to everyone; but god, when he has you in his arms, it's like you're the only thing that has ever existed. His love for you runs deeper than the oceans, it's sometimes so intense it's overwhelming, but you always know that Alejandro loves you. He always finds a way to make you feel seen, feel loved. Alejandro makes an effort for you, even if he's tired and overwhelmed. His job inhibits his ability to see and live with you all the time, so he often finds himself thinking about a future with you, when he's retired from the military, and can be by your side far into old age.

Despite his openness in loving you, Alejandro is likely another person who despises being vulnerable in other states. Sure, he can tell you how much he loves you with ease, but he couldn't tell you how tired or depressed he was. But sometimes, Alejandro will let you in a little further and whisper to you how much he wants to be by your side always, and that leaving you behind with the possibility of leaving you behind is harrowing to him.

That's All is slow, it's a ballad, it's about wanting a fairy tale love story, and god does the slow background music with the overpowering hi-tat give me major Alejandro vibes. It's passionate, the instruments and the lyrics that accompany them, and it makes for a loving sounding song that encapsulates Alejandro's style of loving you.

"I want a tale, a giddy after with you," Alejandro wants a life with you, he wants to live with you by his side until he no longer can, which the lyric, "Till death's kiss, I'll promise you this," shows. Alejandro will always be with you until death takes parts the two of you forever.

Rudy is easily Fantasy (Kali Uchis, Don Toliver) and I will not be taking any comments, complaints, or concerns. If you think for a second that Rudy is not an intense and loving partner, you are so so so wrong and I am here to prove it to you.

Rudy is one to love you like no one can touch you ever again, he knows full well that you are his. He wouldn't go so far as to say he owns you, but he knows that you wouldn't say a word against it if he said you belonged to him. This possessive part of him is usually choked down and he's often much more passive to you and everybody around. He's honestly rather sweet, often calling you a nickname or a pet name instead of your name, but you can always see something a bit more passionate in his eyes when he looks at you. He has eyes for no one else, he loves you too much to even think about someone else in the ways he thinks of you.

He tends to idly enjoy your presence, his thoughts stray quite a bit when you aren't there, oddly enough. When you're there, he just wants to be with you, not an imaginative version of you. Holding you close is something he treasures, sexually or otherwise, he likes having you near him and often never wants to let go.

The background music begins with a rather calm piano, which is basically the impression you get upon looking at Rudy for the first time, but the upbeat rhythm that follows it is more representative of Rudy's way of loving you and what it's often like with him.

"I belong to you / Know you're all mine too," is the only lyric I need to pull from the song to push my agenda onto you. Your relationship is built off of knowing that the two of you are each others, Rudy relishes in this knowledge.

Valeria is literally the embodiment of Summertime Sadness (Lana Del Rey). You can scream and cry but Valeria is so LDR coded and I will die on this hill. The nature of her work really makes it unpredictable to know if she'll come home to you, so the two of you live your lives like you're about to break up but god do the two of you love each other.

It took her so damn long to admit it and understand that she loves you, but once she did, everything was for you. She lives for you, she breathes for you, because you're all the good the world has left for her, and she'll keep an iron grip on you until you're ripped away from her. Valeria knows that one day, she likely will leave you on your own, so she lives every single day with you as if its the last. Even if it's a small day, where you just live with one another, there's always a feeling of longing between you two.

Something hat Valeria will likely never get to have is a wedding with you. She knows, deep down, that marrying you is putting an even larger target on your back, but that won't ever stop her from wanting you to be more than just her lover, wanting to be more than simply dating you.

The slow drums in the background accompanied by the soft strings and guitar during the verses and choruses have a longing feelings attached to them, which gives way to the way Valeria feels about your relationship. There's always longing between you even if she's right by your side.

Lyrics that particularly scream Valeria and your relationship with her include, "I know if I go, I'll die happy tonight," "I just wanted you to know / that baby, you the best," and "Like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky." All of these have a feeling that any of the above paragraphs explained, but they're also pretty self explanatory.

[thlayli-ra]

The Chain

Characters - Drew McIntyre, CM Punk, AJ Lee (mentioned)

Pairing - Drew McIntyre/CM Punk, CM Punk/AJ Lee

AU - Soulmates AU

Rating - Mature, 18+ only

Warnings - Physical assault, blood and gore, wound-fucking (mentioned), this is NOT a love story!

Words - ~ 2000 words

Summary - After viciously attacking Punk at Smackdown, Drew steals something very personal. (Written from Drew's POV.)

I'm just a girl. Looking at a boy. Stealing a bracelet from another boy and wondering... how can I make this so much worse?

I never understand when people talk about these little red strings of fate. Where I'm from, we are connected by chains. Linked to our bodies by a sharp hook embedded in our chest, directly into our hearts. Does it hurt? Oh aye, it hurts. But doesn't it always hurt? Love, I mean? Maybe we're just raised to believe that...

The hook appears first. You don't even need to actually be with the person in question, but as soon as a soulmate connection is made, the hook starts to form. And the pain begins. It's the worst part of the whole process.

But then, the chain starts fading into existence, softly as first, like a haar, getting clearer and heavier until - if you're lucky enough to find the perfect partner - it snaps into being. Then you're hit with this... I don't know how to describe it... this shockwave of euphoria. And it's all worth it. The pain, the hurt. You don't even notice it anymore once your chain has formed.

One soulmate? Are ye daft? No, you don't just get one soulmate per person. This is the real world ye numpty! I've had two chains in my life. Some chains form then fade again, others start off faint and snaps once they've worked at their relationship. For some folk, no chain forms at all - other's don't even get the hook! - then you know you're completely wrong for each other. But then... I've seen couples who were full-on toxic and they've got a perfectly formed chain between them so who am I to judge?

And as I'm standing here, the echo of a steel door colliding with a man's face reverberating around my skull, I'm reminded of the very few who snap right from the very beginning. Punk's was like that. I can see it now, his chain snaking around my feet as he lies there, coughing up his own blood.

I've known Punk a long time so I can still remember it happening. When him and AJ began making out sloppy style in front of the cameras and the two of them parted with a wince to find the hooks digging their way into their hearts. The chain was already manifesting then too.

Must have spooked them because their instant reaction was to run in the opposite direction, straight into another's arms. But it's always the same with these things; once you've seen that chain, you start to wonder. From what I heard, the very instant they decided to give it a go between them, the chain snapped with a blinding light. It's been the same ever since, even through some very trying times for them both.

I hate that fucking chain. Just another reminder of something he doesn't deserve. Isn't it enough that's he's held all the gold, all the prestige, all the accolades and respect and devotion of his mindless fans when he's nothing but a cancer in every locker-room he's ever been in. How could he possibly deserve the girl too? And the dog?

And the chain?

He doesn't!

If I could, I would smash that chain to pieces but I can't. It's sitting right there by my toe at this very moment, but if I move my boot, it just ghosts through it like an illusion. I can grab my own chain, but nobody else's.

The hook, however...

The doors begin to open and I'm reminded of why I came. Grabbing Punk, I haul him over my shoulders and march my way into the bowels of the arena, heading straight for gorilla.

This is Chicago. Punk's home crowd. They love him here, always have and always will. No matter how much of a prick he is or how many sins he commits against others.

Like me!

Less than a week ago, I was in front of my home crowd. Unlike Punk, I had to fight to get a PLE in my home, to bring the WWE to Scotland. It took years but I finally got through to the higher-ups and convinced them that my bonnie wee country was ripe for a major event and that the crowd would raise the roof. I was proven right! They welcomed us with open arms and brought the energy, flooding the OVO Hydro with ear-splitting noise.

Was there any doubt? After all - no Scotland, no party!

But for me personally, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. After all those years of being snubbed, of being overlooked, called a Chosen One by the boss then getting fired and dumped on my arse like yesterday's rubbish, I was finally going to get my time in the spotlight. I was the main-event, competing for the World Heavyweight Title and I was going to win it. How could I not with my people cheering me on, their support the wind in my sails, spurring me to greatness.

But Punk stole that all away from me! Why? How was it fair? I could have gone down in history, inspired a whole new generation of Scottish wrestlers! We're only a country of around five million - Chicago itself has half of that alone! Didn't we deserve our share of the glory? Weren't we allowed to believe for a single bloody night that we could be more?

But no! He left me lying on my back in my home town, clutching my bawsack where his stupid over-priced trainer had struck me. A cheap shot, like the cheap-arse bastard he is!

I'm here to repay the favour. Finally punching my way through the curtain, I stand at the top of the ramp, the jeers ringing out all around me, feeding me. I let them get a good eyeful of their so-called 'hero' slung across my shoulder like a stag I shot in the woods. Then I throw him to the ground. He lands with a satisfying crunch, a tangle of noodle limbs and blood splatters.

The noise increases. I lap it all up like a sponge. Punk's been lucky enough to triumph in front of these people. The roar they made when he faced Cena at Money in the Bank was deafening, became something of legend in its own right. He won it for them, then tore off through the crowd with his stolen prize and they loved him for it. Guy isn't even from Chicago! He's from fucking Lockport!

(But then, I guess the same could be said for me and Glasgow. I'm from Ayr, thirty odd miles away but I started out there, lived there, worked there, made my reputation there and rebuilt it there when everything seemed lost. My heart belongs to Glasgow. Guess Punk feels the same about Chicago.)

But it's not the only thing his heart belongs to, is it?

I crouch down. Punk is still reeling from the head blows and barely registers me looming in so close. I can hear his raspy breaths, see his chest quivering up and down. I then spy his hook half-embedded, off-centre to the left.

It's considered the height of moral corruption to touch another person's hook. Degenerate, perverted, an abomination. Like cooking a meal for a guest with your own shit. Yet, as my hand draws near to it, my fingers trembling, I feel a spark of electricity dancing through my nervous system. A frenzied anticipation that I can't quash. It screams through my veins as my fist wraps around the hook, feeling the weighty bulk of it on my palm.

Then I yank on it.

Punk's whole body jerks and his eyes leap open but it's too late. There's nothing he can do as I pull on his hook like King Arthur with his sword trapped in stone. It's stuck deep! I am no weakling by any stretch of the imagination but it still takes me all of my strength over several attempts to finally wrench it free.

It slurps loose with a wet squelch. Punk tries to scream but his voice is trapped in his throat beneath a fresh pouring of blood. His blood smears my hands too, falling freely from the grisly hook as I stand again, taking it with me. I admire it. It's not large, slightly bigger than my palm, and is marred with wear and tear, much like its owner.

However, up close, it shines. I had never noticed it before. How, when the light hits, it glints a golden hue that sparkles. It's dazzling. I suddenly feel the burden of having something I shouldn't in my possession, like a British archeologist taking an Ancient Egyptian mummy from its tomb. I'm every bit as fascinated by it too, stroking my hand over it, dirtying my fingers even more with Punk's blood.

'No...' Punk feebly whines. The lady doth protest, it seems.

The outcry from the mob is thunderous but I'm already tuning it out. All I care about is the golden sickle in my hand and the chain that dangles from it, so flawless and beautiful and-

I hitch a breath! The chain! I can... feel it! Solid in my hand, like magic. I'm too shocked to wonder why but every instinct in me is shrieking to test the limits of my newfound power. I grab the chain in both of my large hands. There's a rhythmic sensation like a pulse running through it, and it's so warm. Like something small and fragile and living. A captured rabbit, trembling in my grasp before I twist its neck.

I yank hard and the chain cleaves straight in two. I hear a horror-filled cry. It was Punk! Ohh, he felt that! I enjoyed that sound! Gathering up the tattered remains of his chain, I consider breaking another piece to hear that delicious squeal again when I'm distracted by the gaping hollow in his chest. A gruesome wound, wide like an open mouth. I'm actually shocked to feel a burning desire between my legs, thoughts of sticking my dick in there and fucking that cavity raw like a pussy. Shoving my hand in to hold his heart in my palm, feel it pound with terror as I squeeze it tighter. Could even just lower my breeks and piss right in there, why not? Wee shite deserves it!

But before I can do anything, I hear an angry shout and there is Nick Aldis himself. Fucking cock-blocker that he is! I'm raging at the interruption and shove him back but he's swarmed by his lackeys and I'm forced to retreat for now.

I take one last look at Punk's mangled body. What was it you said Punk? That you would "break my heart"? Did that make you feel like a big man, eh? Some kind of Johnny Big Baws? Well once again, you proved how empty your promises are and showed everybody that your sweet sentiments are hollow.

Now you have a chest cavity to match!

I pocket my prize, the blood tainting the lining of my jeans. I tap it lovingly, enjoying the solid mass of hook and broken chain through the denim.

I'll hold onto it for now Punky. For safe-keeping. Maybe, just maybe, if I feel like it, I might try it on for size. See how it is to have a little piece of you inside of me.

For a fleeting moment, I think my own chain flickers, but I'm sure it's just a trick of the light. Hope Kaitlyn didn't notice.

They're loading Punk into a stretcher now. Strapping his stupid, bloodied face into a neck brace. He looks so small and pathetic without his chain, but that's what I want!

A boat without its anchor.

Cast adrift.

Waiting helplessly for the monster from the deep to wrap its tentacles around and swallow it whole.

[loopy777]

So I've read 'The Reckoning of Roku'

This isn't a real review, just my impressions and reactions. No spoilers.

I'll start by admitting that to me, Randy Ribay is no F.C. Yee. I vibe perfectly with Yee's stuff, to the point where he's on my "Read Anything They Write" list; I vibe with his genre choices, his dialogue, his characters, his scope, his storytelling, etc. By contrast, Ribay's writing is functional for me, but nothing more, and feels bit more narrow. There are a few instances, even, where I think he made some amateurish wording choices, but most people probably wouldn't be bothered by it and that's likely me just being snobbish. What I'm leading up to is that I think the story is Fine, and I don't have the enthusiasm for it that I do for the earlier Avatar novels, but neither do I think it's bad.

Part of that ambivalence is our familiarity with Roku. Compared to Kyoshi and Yanchen, we know a lot more about him. We have an entire episode of AtLA devoted to his life story. This book finds a slot we haven't explored before, but I think I could summarize the feel of the story by describing the prologue: the book opens after Roku has learned he's the Avatar but before he says goodbye to Sozin, then skips the scene where said goodbye is said (since we saw it the cartoon and I guess there was no desire to novelize it), then resumes the next morning for their final public formal goodbye, all while trying to achieve the same feel and impact of the actual goodbye scene from the cartoon. Similarly, my impression is that the book covers a character arc for Roku which feels very much like what was covered in 'The Avatar & The Fire Lord,' presented as a kind of microcosm of that lifelong story, via events set shortly after he begins his Airbending training.

For all that, though, it fits poorly considering what we already know about Roku. These novels have been very free with retcons, especially when it comes to Avatar Kuruk, but I've been pretty tolerant of that since so little was known about those characters previously and they obviously weren't constructed to be protagonists of their own stories, just props to Aang's. But Roku was a bit more developed and got a whole episode devoted to his life story, so I feel like some things are revealed about him in this book that should definitely have been mentioned in 'The Avatar & The Fire Lord.' Likewise, what we see of Roku's Airbending training in the cartoon doesn't really fit with this story, and I feel like a hint about Sozin's father in the cartoon is interpreted in an awkward way here. None of it "breaks canon" or anything, but it sticks out as a poor fit.

But I'm sounding pretty negative so far. Let's talk about what I like in the book.

Young Gyatso is wonderful. 10/10 no notes, as the kids say.

Sozin is a real piece of work, as he should be.

Ta Min is a lot more interesting than I expected.

As I've noted in a lot of my talk of the AtLA comics and the other Avatar novels, I'm usually very down on forced references to random stuff in AtLA/Lok, and especially needless explanations for elements of those stories which would be better just as something random. However, there's something in this novel that's both a forced reference and a needless explanation, and I thought it was hilarious and wonderful. So good on Ribay for making that work for me. I'm still grinning about it.

The plot is more straightforward than the previous novels, but still creates tension and mystery. It also has a few beats that feel rather mythical, which I always enjoy. And I think it does a great job creating a balanced set of stakes, where things feel urgent and important without leaning on the old Fate Of The World too much.

The story feels complete while also having some very clear paths for the sequel to follow.

So, overall, I think the Avatar novels continue to outshine the comics, even if I don't want to kiss this book.

[anonzentimes]

I'm probably very mean for thinking this. But seeing this one post somewhere on this site (can't remember where) about Class 78 and 77 swapping their Lucky Students for the day and Class 78 begs them to re-swap ASAP (which their senpais are reluctant to go), made me imagine some angst material. That turns the whole idea on its head in the most depressing way possible.

Nagito quickly realizes that there's something very special about Makoto Naegi. He brings such love and joy to his own class, Nagito's classmates think he's wonderful, and even Nagito himself realizes he adores him...And it absolutely crushes his almost non-existent self-esteem. The thought that the Ultimate Lucky Student position really does have value, which Makoto embodies. And it being something that Nagito just can't do. He can't make his classmates happy the way Makoto does. Nagito slowly begins to shut down completely, unable to even keep up a fake smile after a while.

Realistically if this sort of thing did happen he would probably just be coping meaning focusing on his luck cycle therefore he’d be smiling more since the main concept with him is tonal issues due to his coping mechanism coming off as weird and being morally gray when it relates to something for the sake of hope. Simply put I think he would still be smiling, it’s angst of course, but still a boring answer to say he would be unable to fake a smile it’s not Komaeda enough in my opinion. He sees himself as nothing and he sees Makoto as way more than the average ultimate mostly for his Ultimate emphasis on Hope status but also for the small relatability with luck so I’m not sure it would be that easy for him to see him as lesser let alone nothing, a lot of it is artificial “selfless,” admiration in the first place. He already understands his luck is different and views himself with as something that deserves no love in return despite his devotion to the ultimates, so I really don’t see it being that soul crushing or happening in the way described here.

Anyways, pardon me for being nit picky aha, I feel I may have been harsh but I’d rather be honest. Keeping the concept in tact, here’s how I would do it. They swap Lucky Students for a day, the fact of the matter is that the falsehoods he believes about his worth are even still with a different class proven right because they treat him poorly due to thinking he’s weird which gets interpreted as just the factual hierarchy of their world to him. That, or alternatively they treat him well probably because Makoto or someone else told them to which makes him confused and conflicted. I can’t think of much else,,

Anyways, apologizes for being a downer, but it is an ask so I assume I’m allowed or possibly even expected to give my opinions if I have any on the concepts being provided and since I had some I expressed them. Hope it didn’t come off as annoying, I’m sure you can do something cool with the concept! Personally it just doesn’t feel like what the characters are to me, which is perfectly fine. Thanks for your Ask <3

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Keep You Near - Tolya Yul Baraar

This one, this one was due to a car ride conversation and won't leave my mind so.

Content Warnings: Canon Compliant Threat, Violence And Injury. Not Beta/Proof Read, We Die Like Men.

The job was meant to be simple enough, especially given you were being sent on it with Tolya and Tamar, two of Sturmhond's finest, arguably the finest he has to offer, and the most adept to violence if the need arose. Each as much as a threat with their weaponry of choice as they are as Heartrender's.

You had boundless trust in the twins, not just from the way Tolya moved with such certainty despite the treelike stature, you cannot help but recall all the times you had known exactly whom anyone was referring to by the expression "the giant with the golden eyes."

It wasn't even the way in which you fully believed Tamar could and would likely take down the entire Fjerdan Army over as little as a spilled drink or out of line comment about her natural born gifts. A fight you had no doubt she would win.

It was down to the simple fact of trust, in the time you had spent with the twins, the eagerness to fight, the resilience of their nature and the power of their skills with both their gifts and weaponry was not what had you believing in them. But their unwavering loyalty.

One of the crew aboard the Volkvolny had described Tamar once as "the most trigger happy woman" he had ever met. You thought that sentiment did her a misjustice, for all of Tamar's willingness to fight she did not out of a sheer desire for violence, it was always with reason, maybe not always a perfectly agreeable reason her brother would often argue but a reason nonetheless.

As for Tolya, you had come to believe there was nothing he was not capable or willing to do in the name of his faith and his loyalty. You'd never known someone so fiercely devoted as the bare armed giant.

He had no death wish, that many of the crew you'd seen before have had, but he wasn't unwilling to die for what he believed in, and you admired that, even if it scared you in ways you could not express, to depths of your soul which whispered quiet concerns in the emptiness of conversation.

You would willingly lay down your lives for either of them, and you knew that to be true, but there was something in the way you feared Tolya coming to harm that made missions like this, with just the three of you increasingly difficult.

Tolya offers you a grin and you're brought back to the moment, for all his size and skill, Tolya possessed a softness and a kindness you would have never expected from such a man.

You understood why those who did not have the pleasure of knowing him as personally as you, would fear such a giant. His stature alone was enough to be threatening, and then his sword which remains unholstered besides the looming risk it presents. But knowing him as you do, it is the poet within the warrior that you see above all.

"This is where I advise we part ways," Tamar comments looking at the fork in the path ahead. "Not least of all because I can sense Tolya is about to start reciting and I cannot fathom a worse pastime right now."

This is the part of the plan you like least of all, the part in which for the remaining sunlight you shall part into separate groups.

Before you manage to get a word out Tamar just gives you a large smile. "Enjoy my brothers company, and try not to run into trouble, I hate to think of you having fun without me," she says.

"See you by dusk sister," Tolya says, watching her eager to get out of here. Once she is out of earshot Tolya gives you a small sideways smile. "She was right, I was about to start."

"I do not mind," you remind him. "I quite enjoy your poetry."

The stop at the boarding house was entirely unplanned, the journey should have been straight on until you two reached the market and likely had Tamar waiting for you both, acting as if she had won some imaginary race.

But things had not gone according to plan.

You knew Tamar had volunteered for the path in which she took because she believed it to be the most dangerous path of the two to take, meaning that if anyone was likely to get attacked during the mission, it would've been her and she could have had the joy of a fight for the first time in a while. But as likely as the odds had favoured that outcome, it was yourself and Tolya that had run into trouble.

A few Fjerdan's much further south than you'd ever seen them to be, and a few mercenaries looking to make a quick Kruge where the Fjerdan's failed. One of those would've been easy enough to deal with, between your combined skills and training, but back to back fighting the arsenal of the Drüskelle and then the numbers of the mercenaries, it was a unfair fight to say the least.

An unfair fight that had left you with likely broken ribs and a contemptible cut across your forehead that seemed to continue to bleed no matter how much you tried to attend to it. Which admittedly is not as much as it needed with your focus being elsewhere, for all your injuries you had sustained against the attack, Tolya had sustained worse ones in an attempt to keep you safe. A fact you were not letting slip by unnoticed.

With no Corporalki Healers in any kind of distance, and only the one Otkazat'sya at the boarding house that has remotely any knowledge of true healing, barely even a boy in age. There is no way to let Tamar know what has happened, and your only option is to allow Tolya, who despite the haze of pain and faded consciousness, is insisting you needn't worry about him, to have some time to heal in the way the body intended. Slowly.

Once you had paid for a room, and twice as much for silence on the two of you being there, you had gotten Tolya to lay down, which between the sheer size of him and his repeatedly insistence that he can continue to the ride, was no easy task.

Now lain with his shoulders against the bedpost, making it only comically more obvious that this bed was simply far too small to hold him, his eyes find yours again, as you are emptying out supplies looking for any kind of remedy or assistance that may have been hidden away inside the satchels you'd been carrying.

"You are worrying too much," Tolya insists, but you can hear the pain as he breathes in, the way it is a struggle to get the sentences out. You cannot help but worry that you must keep him away for at least a little while longer, to be sure that if he falls asleep he will in fact wake again.

"Tolya, tell me a poem," you insist, trying to keep him engaged, trying to keep him aware so you can focus on the task of treating him. Trying to keep your mind from wandering back into a memory, from how quickly and without thought Tolya put himself between you and the danger. Like it was nothing. Like it was second nature. Like there had been no other option but to do so. And just how quickly that had got him knocked to the ground. You try not to think of how your heart stopped in the moments where you weren't sure he would make it. How you're still not convinced he might make it. How if he doesn't make it, he will have died to save you. You try to push that thought as far from your mind as you can, but it is ringing out in your mind like the a message from the Saints.

"It’s time, my friend: it’s time! The heart wants rest –," he begins.

"Maybe not this poem," your voice cannot withhold it's tremble. But he doesn't seem to hear you through the fog of his own pain and the feeling of his mind slipping into unconsciousness.

"the days slip by, the hours take away

fragments of our life: and you and I," he continues. As long as it keeps him awake, as long as it keeps him awake, you tell yourself over and over.

"plan how to live and, – just like that – we die.

No happiness on land, yet there’s freedom, peace.

I’ve long dreamt of an enviable fate –

I’ve long thought, a weary slave, to fly

to some far place of labour and true joy," he finishes and he must be able to feel your eyes boring into him, and the sound of your heart threatening to tear its way out of your chest to aid him in any way you can. He laughs and tries to hide the wince as he does.

"You cannot die now, koja, because you cannot leave me on that poem," you don't even realise you've said it.

"Everyone mourns the first blossom. Who will weep for the rest that fall? I will remain to sing for you, long after the spring has gone," Tolya whispers, his voice so quiet is sends a ice cold wind of fear right through your blood and into your bones.

"Kebben’a," you say quietly, recognising this one. You pull out a small glass vial from one of the satchel pockets and thank the Saints that there was some kind of elixir to be found.

You recognise from the colour and the vials stopper shape that it was not exactly meant for injuries like Tolya's, being a low level assistant to healing and a medium strength painkiller, but your grateful for it regardless.

You hand him the vial and he drinks it. "Now that won't do massive amounts but at least it'll help," you say, more for your own benefit than his. You still cannot tell exactly how severe the injuries are, and Tolya is ever insistent on hiding it.

"I am not in need of your courage right now Tolya," you say, moving to sit beside him, "I am in need of your honour and your honesty, I cannot help you without knowing just how badly you are hurt."

"Not so badly," he says, but his voice is still quiet. It crosses your mind that with injury and pain like this he may not even remember most of it come tomorrow. The blanks in memory when it comes to injury are usually a gift, a measure to protect yourself from the intensity.

But you know even if he was to forget what he had done for you today, you never could.

"You needn't have thrown yourself towards the mercenary like that," you say matching the quietness of his voice.

"He was not unsteady," Tolya says between a laboured breath, "he likely would've killed you."

"He nearly killed you," you remind him, allowing your voice to carry more loudly with this sentiment. "And where would that have left me?"

"He didn't" Tolya reminds you.

"If you're improved by morning," you start, "then I will ride ahead and let Tamar-,"

"No," he whispers, the relief from the elixir taking affect but bringing some well needed sleep with it, "stay."

"I will return," you say.

"Please stay," he insists. "I want you to stay with me."

You doubt he is lucid enough now to be much aware of what he is saying, and you're almost grateful because if he could notice the way your heart was hammering in your chest there is no way you would be able to hide how you feel any longer. There would be no denying anything with the way your heart is calling to him now.

"You want me to stay with you?" You ask. "Now?"

"Always," he says, the whisper turning into a mumble, he reaches out and grabs a hold of your arm gently, lacing his fingers around you, as if to be sure to keep you near. "But especially now."

The room falls quiet as Tolya finally gives into the sleep. You do not rest, making sure to keep a close eye on him, his breathing, his heart.

It's a miracle you can hear it over the sound of your own. But you must stay awake, to be sure, to make sure he is healing, improving.

Not that you could sleep if you wanted to, with the racing of your mind. His grip on your arm is not tight but it also doesn't waver in his slumber even once. "Moi sol ye tselai," you whisper, "I will stay, for as long as you want me to, I will stay." Even though he is asleep you daren't say the last part aloud.

Eya fyela chi.

For as long as you shall live.