#those sexy sexy nature spirits....

[blooberrries]

『consequential』 — satoru

— pairing: satoru x afab!reader — wc: 5k — content: mdni, nsfw; vampire au, college/university au, jealous/possessive satoru, blood drinking, vampire bites (chest, neck and arm), alcohol, mutual pining (a distant relative of idiots to lovers), piv sex, love bites (heh literally), standing/sex against the wall (he holds you up the entire time because he's actually insane), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming,he's a bit of a simp really idk if that was planned — notes: got possessed by the Horny Spirit, also not proofread. enjoy? also be gentle with me I haven't written smut in over a year

prompt: ["Oh, don't be cute."] + [“you’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “i’m all yours”]

While slightly spiteful, your plan had been simple and had about a 50/50 chance of succeeding, with minimal loss to you if it didn’t.

Two weeks ago Gojo Satoru had— after months of asking for it and being denied by you— finally gotten your permission to drink your blood. So he’d gone ahead and bitten you, you’d loved it and probably fell even more annoyingly head over heels for him as a result of the oddly erotic experience, and the way he had acted during the whole ordeal gave you a decent indication that he most definitely felt the same way you did.

You’d expected things to finally change between you after that, hell you’d actually been excited for it.

But instead of leaning into the shift in the dynamic between you, Satoru had instead decided to pretend you didn’t exist and proceeded to completely avoid you for the last two weeks.

(Which is actually quite the feat considering how much overlap there is between your friend groups. But you’re not impressed. You’re mad.)

To say you were upset would be an understatement. Your pride was wounded along with your ego, and you felt foolish and embarrassed and stupidly angsty. The unfortunate reality is that you’re not very good at processing those feelings, so in your time of need you turned to your most faithful, long-time friend: spite.

You know for a fact that Satoru likes the way you smell and taste– it’s one of the many things he’d let slip when sucking the blood ever so gently from the puncture he’d made in the soft flesh of your inner forearm. So you decided to wait until the prime part of your cycle, where the supernatural consensus said humans smelt their best, and you’d procured a tincture from your witch-in-training friend that would accentuate the natural appeal of your blood for certain creatures of the night (she’d assured you it was safe, but you have your own means of defending yourself anyway so you aren’t too worried.)

Then, you’d waltzed your way into a party that was being held at his shared accommodation and made it a point to have fun. The real goal of your plan, besides sticking it to him in the most subtle-not-subtle way ever, was also just to feel better about yourself. Your expectations being upended regarding how you’d hoped things would develop with Satoru had been a big blow and would take some TLC from yours truly to recover from.

You’ve had fun so far, you’re only a drink or so in and pleasantly buzzed, and you’re getting a lot of compliments on your perfume. You can’t exactly tell them you’re not wearing anything but eau de spite, but it does feel nice nonetheless. Each comment is like a balm to your poor, chafed ego. The only wrench in the works is that as expected, not long after you arrived, Satoru noticed you.

And then proceeded to continue in his efforts to avoid and ignore you. He’d disappeared into the throng of people on the other side of the house before you could even blink.

It takes a strongly mixed cocktail, courtesy of Shoko who you’re not sure isn’t trying to kill you with the alcohol content of these drinks, for you to settle your fuming. This is stupid— no, he’s stupid. Stupid sexy vampire with his stupid pretty eyes and stupid pretty face. How dare he let you make a fool of yourself by thinking there could be anything more between you! You never should have let him bite you. At least then things would still be the same and you wouldn’t be so torn between throttling him and kissing him.

Angrily, you take a hearty gulp of your drink. Despite the superficial fruity flavour it burns on the way down, unsurprisingly, and you have to breathe slowly through your nose so it doesn’t come back up. You’re no longer uncertain; you’re confident this cocktail is an attempt on your life.

It’s as you’re nursing that drink and leaning angstily against a wall in the corner of the room, that you sense someone approach you. Your eyes take a moment to adjust as you look up, surprise filtering through you once you register the figure by your side.

“Hey.”

Your brows shoot up, a small grin tugging your lips. “Oh? Long time no see, Mei Mei. What cave have you crawled out of to be here tonight?”

The snow-haired woman rolls her eyes, lips twitching. Her tongue darts to swipe over the tip of a pointed canine.

“Oh, you know, every homebody has to come out to play every once in a while.” Her nose twitches, and she leans forward slightly to inhale. Her eyes flutter wide in pleasant surprise. “Well, don’t you smell absolutely divine tonight. Special occasion?”

Kind of, but you’re not about to tell her that. Mei Mei can be a decent enough acquaintance so long as you keep her at arm’s length.

“I’m trying something new,” you answer simply. She hums, and when her body angles towards you again ever so slightly you become aware of the most odd, prickly sensation. It tickles the hairs at the back of your neck, and you fight the peculiar urge to turn and look around. All you’d see is dancing bodies and stumbling drunks, anyway.

“It suits,” Mei Mei purrs with a smile that makes you a little nervous. Music throbs against your body so strongly that for a moment you’re not sure whether the beat you’re feeling in your chest belongs to your heart or the song. “Though you ought to be careful going on campus smelling like that. You’ll lure in every bloodsucker in a five-mile radius.”

You suppose that means the tincture is doing its job. The way her eyes are appraising your pulse points keeps you feeling nervous, though. Perhaps… it wasn’t the best idea to make yourself smell so scrumptious after all. There are more than a few loose canons in the area.

It’s a little too late for regrets now, though. At this point you just gotta double down and own the decision.

“Noted,” you say, taking a hearty sip of your death-in-a-cup. The burn is now a pleasant distraction. You smile at Mei Mei and feel that prickly, hot feeling increase tenfold. What is that?!

The sensation has your heart rate elevating slightly, and it must make the aroma of your blood a little stronger because the vampire before you lets out a soft groan, her eyes fluttering shut. Almost like it’s instinct, she takes a step closer and leans her head towards the crook of your neck. Your startle is almost imperceptible, and you’re thankful that the top you opted for is one that saved the neck exposure for a well-placed boob window instead. The fabric covering half the expanse of your throat is probably the only reason you don’t freak out at her actions.

Her nose brushes your skin, dragging up the column of your throat until it flirts with the bottom of your earlobe. Your heart skips a beat before tumbling into a full gallop. It’s different to how it felt with Satoru— you don’t like this nearly as much. Your legs tense with the urge to leave.

“Really,” she says, purring your name. “You’ve got me feeling quite peckish. Won’t you let me have a little sn–“

A grip winds around your wrist like a vice, not painful but certainly unforgiving. Startled, you look up and see the person of the hour, the vampire you went to all this effort to torment in the hopes he would want you again. Wow, it doesn’t sound great when you think of it like that. The alcohol is certainly not helping your self-esteem right now.

Satoru’s pretty baby-blues are dark, pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen before, and his entire body is riddled with tension. He almost looks like the slightest pressure would have him snapping in half. His jaw is locked tightly, and he hisses through clenched teeth and descended fangs.

“Come with me. Now.”

You don’t get the chance to bid Mei Mei farewell, not that you really want to, and the last thing you see as you’re dragged out of the room is her waving a manicured hand your way, mouthing a playful ‘goodbye’. She looks far too amused for your comfort.

Right now, Satoru is nothing like the cheeky, carefree, shit-stirring bastard you’ve come to know and love. That isn’t to say you’re completely opposed to it, because the way he looks like know is a pretty big turn-on. But still – the difference is startling. You’re not sure how to navigate the situation.

Before you know it you’ve been unceremoniously relocated to his bedroom, and he is pressing you against the door the second it closes behind you with a heavy, loud THUD.

For a moment, the only sound that fills the space is that of the music beyond the wooden barrier. The bass is no longer indistinguishable with your heart beat – the stuttering rhythm that echoes against your rib cage is all you.

Satoru inhales deeply as though to calm himself down, only to let out a long, low groan immediately after. The sound affects you more than it probably should, heat winding pleasantly up your spine.

“What was that?” He demands, brows snapping together. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s most likely referring to Mei Mei being horny on main just before. His massive frame boxes you in against the door in such a way that you’re almost embarrassed by how much it makes your tummy flutter.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you breathe, chin tilted up as you hold his gaze. Something feral flickers through his expression.

“Oh, don’t be cute.” The words snap into the air, causing your breath to hitch. Satoru’s eyes flick to your forearm, where the slightest bruise still remains from the last time you were in close quarters like this. He swallows, piercing gaze returning to your own.

“I told you.” Satoru’s words leave in a snarl, his fingers firm against the flesh of your hips. His own body is so close to yours that you can feel the heat of it, the tingle of electricity that arcs between you. “That I would be able to smell it if another vampire so much as breathed near you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you getting chummy with one in my own home?”

You can easily recall him saying that to you almost a fortnight ago, when he had been commenting that he could tell you hadn’t been bitten before thanks to his sharp senses and all that. You didn’t think he was lying. You are surprised that he cares, though. Something like indignation bubbles beneath your lungs, because how dare the bastard spout that shit when he just spent the last two weeks since your ‘encounter’ pretending you didn’t exist.

“Not sure why you give a shit,” you retort, squashing down a whine that begins to rise in your throat when his hips begin to press into yours. “Seemed like you were done with me after you finally got that taste you wanted so bad.”

His brows scrunch together, appearing confused for a second amongst the agitation on his features. You decide to fill the gap in the conversation on his behalf.

“I really was just a Sip ‘n’ Dip to you, huh,” you scoff, letting your head fall back against the door. His eyes snap to the column of your throat, more of which is now exposed. “At least now I know the only thing you want from me is my blood. Really saved me some grief there, Satoru.”

“Excuse me?”

When your eyes slide back to his face, he looks like you’ve physically struck him. His fingers dig into your hips almost out of habit, just shy of being painful. Anger still bubbles beneath your sternum, and you glare at him.

“By the way, as far as I’m aware, biting me once doesn’t give you any exclusive rights to my blood, so where the hell do you get off getting so shitty because someone else took a whiff–“

Satoru snaps.

“I don’t just want your blood,” he snarls, lips curling away from pin-prick sharp fangs. He has the nerve to look insulted. “I want you, you stupidly oblivious pain in my ass. All of you.”

He then leans in, erasing any foreign scents lingering on you and replacing it with something of his own, whatever pheromone bullshit vampires do. You’re too busy trying to stop your heart from having palpitations to focus on it too much because what the fuck did he just say—

“Do you have any idea how close I am to losing myself to a frenzy, like a fucking fledgling?!” His lips brush over the pulse point at your neck, and then teeth, razor-sharp and full of promise, drag over the skin of your clavicle, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You shiver, flushing with heat and desire. The threat of another bite is already enough to have your body reacting in memory of how the last one felt. You want him, god you want him so, so badly.

“I haven’t fed since then because I can’t get the taste of you out of my head, and I can’t stomach anything else. I can’t stop thinking about the noises you made when I sank my teeth into you, and the scent of absolute desire that filled the entire fucking room the second the venom kicked in for you.” Satoru’s words are punctuated by a prick just below your collarbone, the brief sting eliciting a gasp. Warmth begins to trickle thinly from the site and is quickly staunched by a press of his tongue, and he moans. You’re so painfully aroused that it nearly makes you dizzy. He groans, long and suffering. “Just like now.”

He moves lower and lower, hauling you off the floor and completely into his hold so his mouth can reach your chest without stooping. Suddenly in the air, you can’t help the way you yelp and wrap your legs tightly around his hips – which, in turn, presses the heat of your core against the very prominent bulge there. You both echo a groan.

“Coward,” you manage to pant, out of sheer spite if nothing else. “Stupid idiot. I clearly want you. I literally could not have been any more obvious, you’re so –“

His teeth sink into the exposed top of your breast, retracting once they puncture deep enough to get a good flow. Then, he latches firmly onto the flesh, sucking it into his mouth. The act startles a moan out of you, the venom from the initial bite already transmuting the pain into heady pleasure and sending heat through your veins, all while kicking your heart into an even faster beat. Perhaps one of the best perks of the venom is that after that first dose settles in, the only part of the process left for you to feel is pleasure.

Even while you’re unable to help the way your hips roll into his own, and unable to ignore the feral, sinful moans vibrating against your chest as he suckles the wound he made and drinks from you, you manage to continue insulting him.

“You’re so stupid, why the hell did you avoid me for two weeks huh?” A moan breaks up your complaint as he swipes his tongue in broad movements over the bite, his hips snapping into yours and pressing you further into the door. The wood creaks, but neither of you pay it any mind. You can barely function around the incredible sensation of his cock grinding against you through layers of clothing. “All you did was send mixed messages and piss me off and, ngh fuck–“

He pulls back enough that you can see the flush in his face, the feral gleam in his eyes and the smear of blood over swollen lips. His brows are furrowed, but he’s too besotted by the taste of you to have as much heat behind his glare as he did previously.

“There are some things you can’t take back,” he grits out, tongue coming to clean the red from his lips. Your heart stutters, pulse thudding in your ears. “Especially for my kind. If I didn’t stay away, I probably would have ended up doing one of those things.”

Your core positively throbs with need, clenching around nothing. The extent to which you want him right now has you more irritable than usual. “Satoru, I wouldn’t have let you drink from me if I wasn’t interested in everything else it would entail—“

“You don’t understand,” Satoru groans, freeing a hand to rip at the material of your shirt. Clawed fingertips slice through with ease, taking out the bra straps underneath as well. He makes quick work of the band beneath your chest and the underwear is then torn from your form and thrown somewhere in the background. The material of your top remains, and he yanks it down below your aching breasts, watching with rapt attention as they bounce free heavily. Barely allowing you time to moan, he lifts you higher in his arms and dives down to drag his teeth over the swollen globes. He nips and nibbles across the sensitive skin, eliciting all sorts of sounds from you and an unbearable amount of desire that shoots straight between your legs. You can feel slick arousal trickling from your aching cunt with each new miniscule bite Satoru delivers, but honestly at this point you’re too horny to be embarrassed.

“I already want everything you can give me, and more.” He bites the inside of your breast and the flesh gives easily beneath the razor-sharp point of his fangs. One of his hands comes to grip the other side of your chest while he laps and sucks at the blood welling in the wound. Your nipples are painfully hard and you feel like you could cry in relief when his long, nimble fingers begin to deliver them some much-needed attention. “I want every single part of you and I don’t want to share. This is the way I am built. I can’t do this with you again and let you go afterwards. I want you to be mine.”

You probably shouldn’t find that as romantic as you do, but aren’t really in a position to psycho-analyse your response right now. It’s not all that surprising, either, since you recall someone mentioning to you before how strongly vampires bond with their partner when they finally make their choice. As it happens, his confession serves to not only make your heart soar but your pussy throb. You’ve been pining for this man for years, so even amongst the haze of lust clouding your mind you don’t have to think about how to respond to it.

This is, after all, the solution you were hoping for two weeks ago.

“I don’t want you to let me go, or take anything back. Please bite me again, mark me up–” You pause to gasp, Satoru having shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips. Your panties are gone a split-second later, likely discarded in the same manner as your bra, and the hand that was at your breast is now trailing your slit and gathering all the slick that has pooled there. His middle finger dips in, causing a stutter in your breath. You lean forward to whisper in his ear, snowy strands of hair tickling your cheeks as you do so. “And please, please fuck me, Satoru.”

Something snaps in him, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

A feral snarl escapes him, a gravelly “fuck” the only warning you get before his teeth sink down just above your nipple, fangs retracting once blood wells to the surface, and he pulls both the wound and your stiffened peak into his mouth, sucking hard. There isn’t a single ounce of pain, only the white-hot pleasure that shoots to your clit and has you keening as a result, hands scrabbling for purchase along his broad shoulders. That free hand that was at your slit has made quick work of his pants and is now guiding his scalding member to slap against your clit, and then press against your entrance while you recover from the shock of pleasure.

You expected him to be well-endowed, and you’re not at all disappointed. Satoru’s cock is fat and long, and with one roll of his hips it spears right into you. There is no resistance, you’re far too aroused and wet for there to be any, but the feeling of being split open by such a monster quite literally knocks the breath out of you. You hardly recognise the noise that escapes you as one of your own, hands gripping the vampire’s hair and shoulder so tightly you’d be worried about hurting him if he was human. He isn’t, though, and without even noticing your grip continues drinking from you while latched to your breast, tongue pressing and rolling your aching nipple all the while.

A second is all you get to adjust to the foreign length inside you before Satoru rolls his hips back with a moan, the fat head of his cock dragging against your walls as he does so, and then slams it back in. He builds a rhythm immediately that is almost animalistic in its desperation and fervour, each thrust firm and hitting so deep inside that you honest to god think it has you seeing stars. Whines and moans tumble from your mouth, no longer able to be held back when the only thing your brain can comprehend is the sheer pleasure and ecstasy that burns and sparks along your limbs. He begins to hit a certain spot when he fucks up into your heat that has you clenching around him, slick gushing forth.

“FUCK.” He rips away from your chest to tilt his head back in a rough, stilted moan, his hands gripping and digging into the meat of your thighs where they melt into your ass. In the absence of his mouth, blood begins to dribble down the swell of your breast. His crystalline eyes are hazy and blown out in lust, brows drawn together and expression twisted in pleasure, his breath coming in pants. He is visibly barely holding it together, completely drunk on the taste and feel of you– and it simultaneously is the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “Yes, fuck, squeeze me just like that.”

You oblige, relishing in the full-body shiver that tears through him in response. He bites your name out amidst a tortured groan, hands shifting to your hips. His mouth returns to clean up the mess he left on your breast, lips latching around your nipple to suck and pull once more, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the way he suddenly begins to lift you by the hips and drop you back down on his cock in time with his thrusts. Almost. You have to bite back a scream at how fucking good it feels, the pressure and pace and just how full you feel. You can feel yourself rapidly beginning to come undone.

With the combination of his venom’s aphrodisiac effects and the sheer amount of time you’ve spent longing for this, you don’t imagine you’re going to last much longer. If the unforgiving pace of Satoru’s hips is anything to go by, you estimate the same to be the case for him.

He groans into your chest, releasing your breast to bounce in time with his thrusts, the action accompanied by an almost audible pop, and shifts his hold to free a hand. The pressure of two fingers against your clit has you crying out, body jerking at the sudden rush of pleasure – your head whips down to find him already looking at you, gaze swinging from the juncture of your thighs to your eyes. Evidently pleased by the expression he finds on your face, he continues his circling of your clit and leans his head down to trail kisses from your already-healing chest, up the column of your throat, across the line of your jaw, until he finally arrives at your lips.

“Mine,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours in a feather-light caress. His baby-blue eyes are lidded heavily and almost dazed, coherent thought lost to the throes of pleasure and his most simple instincts. He nicks your lip at the same time as he angles a particularly wonderful thrust, the head of his cock hitting against that spot that makes you see stars and release a loud, wanton cry. “You’re all mine.”

You pull back to nod rapidly, unable to form words when all you can think – all you can feel – is the throbbing pleasure of his cock splitting you open with each heavy thrust. His head follows, lips seeking your own once more. The kiss is hot, and needy, and his oversized canines scrape your bottom lip more than once, and yet all you can do is return the fervour in between moans and whines. His hand is still at work between your legs, and you feel in your bones that you’re really not going to last much longer at this rate.

Satoru releases your mouth with a final nip, and moves his head to nestle it in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He groans, low and long, and the vibration turns to a shiver as it travels over your skin. His lips begin to move.

“Say it.”

You struggle to think let alone figure out what he wants, lost in the current of your rapidly approaching orgasm. His fingers pick up speed, aided by the generous amount of arousal still gushing from your pussy in between thrusts. It takes everything you have not to scream, your hips bucking.

“Say it,” he says again, an oddly uncertain note infiltrating his rumbling gasp. He utters your name while nosing at your throat and you feel yourself melt. “Please, say it.”

Realisation as to what he is looking for hits you at the same time as your orgasm. “Fuck! I’m– I’m yours, all yours! God, fuck—“

Satoru’s pace stutters, undone by your pussy clenching and throbbing around him in a fight to keep him inside, and it takes him a moment to recover before he begins to fuck into you again in earnest, movements growing sloppy and frantic but no less punishing. It all serves to prolong the wave of absolute bliss you’re riding in the wake of what has to be the strongest orgasm of your life. Those vampiric toxins are no joke.

You wind your arms around his neck, clutching him close and trying not to lose your mind as he fucks up into you, the drag of his cock against your walls somehow even more delicious than before. He mouths at your neck, hips beginning to stutter once more. You clench around him, and he breaks. There is barely enough time for a curse to escape his mouth before its clamping on your neck, teeth digging in deep— deeper than he’s ever bitten you before— and tingling heat spreading out from the puncture sites. He gives one, two, three final, dragging thrusts, body trembling and muscles taut, before his cock throbs and he buries it inside you, spilling into you with a deep, rumbling groan against your throat.

Soft, panting moans escape you as his hips continue to roll into you softly, riding out his orgasm, and you bite back a wanton groan as you feel his cum beginning to trickle out around his softening member. As soon as he comes back to his senses to a degree, he has the presence of mind to navigate the two of you to the bed before he loses strength in his legs, his mouth slipping from your neck after he laves his tongue over the wound to seal it. Unceremoniously, he drops the two of you against the mattress, but surprisingly keeps you snugly in his hold and his length still buried inside you. Ignoring how hot that is, you decide to view the action from a purely romantic light and nearly melt into the mattress.

Vaguely, you register the thumping club beats still booming beyond the confines of the room. Evidently the party was still ongoing.

“This wasn’t how I planned for today to go,” he admits, after a few beats of contented silence. He nuzzles his face to your chest, dragging his nose across your collarbone. “I was going to talk to you tomorrow morning.”

You snort; that’s likely.

“… This is how I planned for today to go, though.”

He huffs a laugh before pressing his lips together, clearly trying not to enable you further. He allows for another few moments to pass, and in that time you let your own eyes flutter closed.

“You can’t change your mind, by the way,” he says suddenly, tone odd. You open your eyes and turn to see his crystalline gaze directed to your neck, where the latest of his bite marks sits proudly. “I may have done one of those things I can’t take back.”

You’re not sure how to tell him it’s not as bad of a thing as he thinks it to be.

likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 lmk what you think!

[simping-acefully]

Ep 3 got me acting really unwise

Nsfw headcanons for Laios under the cut (gn unspecified partner for Laios)

Warnings: NSFWish, probably ooc, reader insert implied?, probably not very sexy because I used this for character analysis.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Laios is very attentive, though he's also very insecure when it comes to engaging with others. So I imagine he'd be a little clumsy, though very eager to provide the best aftercare for his partner. He's also very cuddly.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

The favorite part of his own body are his hands. They are strong and calloused, and he's used them to protect others and to create new stuff! (Aka, cooking) the fact that those hands can also help him please a partner is a plus.

On a partner? Probably lips. I imagine Laios struggles to read people's facial expressions (the 'tism go brr) but seeing his partner's smile is reassuring. He also really likes running his thumb over them and maybe getting his fingers nibbled.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a lot.He has tasted his own cum out of curiosity in the past, too. And if he had a partner that ejaculated or squirted he would be delighted to taste it all.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has probably jerked off to thoughts of his partner before they get together and it's eating him alive :(

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Zero experience, lots of book knowledge though! He's confused but he's got the spirit. Will need some leading at first, but he's a quick learner and is curious enough to experiment and try new things once he's gained confidence.

As an ace myself, I like to think that Laios is either ace too, or has a low drive and thus, sexual intimacy is a matter of doing something intimate and unique with a partner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that will allow him to see his partner's face for smooching! The emotional intimacy is the most important part for him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He tries to be serious to the point he's almost uptight. But his clumsy and eager nature ends up organically devolving into somewhat goofy intimacy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The carpet matches the drapes, but this man keeps it all natural because ?? Why would he waste time/energy on such things??? (Aka, he's not used to grooming the area, but he would do an effort if asked)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very!! The main driving force for the act. Laios is constantly kissing and checking with his partner. He loves them so much and this is a physical way to convey those feelings!

He holds hands with his partner, kisses their face and neck and tries to keep them as close as possible, the mental image of melting into a puddle together comes to mind.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn't do it often, but when he does it's more of a thing of connecting with his own body than getting rid of any urges. He won't be able to get off unless he's in a good mood.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Has a wee bit of a praise kink that he doesn't fully understand.

Shibari is one he wants to delve into, too. There's something to be said about the artistry of the knots, and the feeling of compression can be quite comforting.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Probably his partner's bed. He shares a room with Falin, so intimacy on his place is a no-no. He doesn't particularly enjoy motels or inns either because he feels kind of self conscious/pressured to perform within a time limit. He was to take things slow and he wants to cuddle to sleep afterwards, dammit!

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I think his biggest driving force is an emotional connection. He craves to be understood and loved, so feeling that coming from his partner will make him want to show his appreciation in a physical way.

Probably jealousy is another good way to make Laios seek out his partner. He wants reassurance, to kill any doubts in his mind and any lingering feelings of inadequacy.

Also adrenaline too! Sometimes when the blood is pumping, his mind wanders. If he and his partner just were in a situation of danger, the physical reminder that they are there, alive and safe will make him desperate to feel them.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doesn't like/understand degradation, and wouldn't do anything that he felt could hurt his partner.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to give, and lives for pleasing his partner! He's not very skilled at first, but he's very observant and receptive, so he gets the hang of what his partner likes even if they do not say so themselves.

However, after getting head himself, he's hooked. He loves it, he loves the look on his partner's eyes and the physical feeling is overwhelming on the best possible way.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually slow and sensual, unless he just had a life or death situation with his partner, then he's desperate and anxious.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not one to really go for quickies, but if he's on the rare mood for one, he'll be sure to get and give lots of affection.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Laios would be interested in trying everything at least once. He's curious and inquisitive, and just as he is fascinated by monsters, he's fascinated by his partner and wants to learn what turns them on, and see what also works for him

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Stamina for days! He can last one very long round. If he didn't get sleepy and cuddly afterwards, he could probably do more, but hnnnggg comfy

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't own toys, but if introduced to them he's up for trying pretty much anything, both on himself and his partner.

I can see him growing particularly attached to non-human looking dildos/strap-ons and ropes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's not much of a tease, but he low-key enjoys being teased. He doesn't seem to understand it, or be fully aware of the fact, but yeah.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not particularly loud out the impulse to self restrain, but Laios is a whiner. He can get pretty loud when he's about to cum though.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Would love to roleplay as a monster with their partner but when he did bring up the idea he got laughed off and passed it off as a joke. It was not a joke.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I like to think that it would kind of mimic his silhouette, length slightly above average and overall on the thicker side. The widest point is right after the head.

Not very high at all. I kinda imagine Laios on the gray sexual spectrum so, it only becomes a thought after he begins pining for his eventual partner. It starts with him wondering how soft their hands would be, how about their neck and lips? And it eventually escalates to wandering thoughts of intimacy.

Once he does become intimate with a partner, he longs for intimacy more than he longs for sex itself.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

VERY. He's an eepy man.

[mtcloudsworld]

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | +18, mdni, black!fem reader, boyfriend! JasonTodd, backshots, saying I love you for the first time, pet names: baby, edited but in case of any errors, ignore please and ty <333. Enjoy!!

⏜︵♡︵⏜ ︵୨୧︵ ⏜︵♡︵⏜ ⏜︵♡︵⏜

"Oh, baby~"

You were breathless and out of your fucking mind.

You couldn't say much but his name as you were getting fucked from the back with your mouth gaped open for your next door neighbors to hear and endure.

You were feeling so much all at once, and for the very first time you were unsure of what to do with these... emotions.

Neither did he.

One moment you two were at the gala, dressed sexy as hell and smelling like VS seductive love perfume.

Shit, you had him hooked.

It was one of those nights where neither of you could take your eyes off each other. Never leaving each other's side. His hands never letting you go.

He was watching your every move, and you? You were...feeling hot and bothered. Feral, even.

With every touch, the feeling of his callused yet soft hands along your exposed thigh or arm left this burning sensation to linger along your skin.

And sure you could blame it on your ovulation and mother nature but gotdamn were you feeling so much all at once.

It was like you were in fucking heat.

You had to keep excusing yourself to the bathroom to calm yourself down.

But one thing led to another and here y'all were fucking passionately and sensually in his dimly lit bedroom.

The night was late and the moon was shining through his curtains. The city was quiet for once and the only sound heard was heavy breathing, moaning, whining and groaning filling the room with the constant banging from the headboard against the wall.

Jason wasn't sure what this was.

He wasn't sure why both of you were acting so needy and clingy with each other, as if either of you hadn't fucked in ages.

But it felt like that.

It felt like two distant lovers reconnecting after not seeing each other for a while and suddenly get hit with those same exact emotions they felt back in high school.

It was like...reality hit him like a truck and for the very first time he wasn't sure what to do.

These emotions...you were feeling, left you nervous, scared and uncertain

Considering his past and what he had gone through, you didn't want to be the next person to ruin what he's been longing for. Closure, security, loyalty and trust. You checked every box off his list, though.

So why were you hesitating? Why were you scaring yourself from saying those three little (BIG) words?

The moment it started festering in the pit of your stomach, you tried not to give in, holding back and running away from him.

But he didn't want that. He wanted you to feel every part of his soul, pushing forwarf on you locking you in till there was no room for you to move. His dominance loomed over you like a cloud, his hands effortlessly controlling and molding your body the way he wants, and once he had you in a more vulnerable and open position, your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, your moans...they sounded different, intense and elated, like you were finally giving in and throwing in the towel. Admitting what had been hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"J-jay, I love you" You'd whimper-coo.

And at first it didn't register with him what you said.

It didn't hit him but a few seconds late when his movements started to slow down, his grip along your waist softened and he was staring at the back of your head in a daze with a frown along his face...

What?

Did she just say what I think she just said?

No...heh...there was no possible way.

You couldn't have said that, no not to him. That can't be right...

But it was right.

Deep down inside he knew it was right. It was for the right person at the right time.

He's known for awhile actually.

He's seen it before. Many times. The way you look at him, how your body naturally responds to him, physically, emotionally and mentally. Your spirits were kindred and you were completely attached and obsessed, just like he was.

But he knew you were just too shy to say it.

And in an intimate setting like this, it caught him off guard.

Although his thrusts were deliberately slow, watching as your arousal coated his dick with a glossy shine.

In your mind, you thought you had fucked up. You thought you had fucked up everything and now he was gonna tell you off, tell you that he wasn't ready and just become distant.

...I beg to differ.

This man...

There was a smile, as wide as the crescent moon, from ear to ear, it grew on his scarred face.

Part of him was amused and charmed, the other was going insane.

And then... his pace starts to increase. Your lips were parted and eyes glossy as you feel his hand come around your neck, fingers gripping your jaw to hear your moans eradicate every negative energy and thought from you.

He was looming over you dangerously like the Eiffel tower, his hand gripping the sheets along side yours, muscles rippling as he dipped his head low to kiss where your pulse beated. They ventured near your ear, listening to those soft sweet whimpers and moans as you feel his hips buck up against you relentlessly.

He utters through grunts, "say it again."

His thrusts were in mean patterns, deep strokes, rhythmic and on beat with the headboard. Your brows were knitted in concentration, gasping for air, as you couldn't seem to catch your breath, unable to control the pathetic sounds from your voice box, your nails clawed at the sheets as you pushed yourself up against him.

"Say it again, baby please." He begs between moans, "please, I wanna hear you say it loud and clear, moan it for everyone to hear."

"I..." Your eyes began to flicker, tears rolling on the sides of your face. You feel his pink tip press into your cervix with quick precision, angling himself so you could feel every inch of his dick, deep inside your soaking pussy. His dick was twitching in anticipation. Waiting to hear those same words you were whimpering a moaning a few minutes ago.

"I..I love... you."

He could've sworn he felt you clench around him.

He chuckles with a wide grin on his face.

Somewhere deep down in that chaotic mind of his, he was just getting more turned on by those sweet beautiful words. Coming from you it was special and satisfied his entire being.

Aside from your touch, hug, kisses, gifts and affection, I love you was the only thing that made him fall deeper. Stimulate him, excite him, sexually arouse him to the utmost

And after countless rounds of him rocking your gotdamn world, giving you the most sloppiest yet thirst quenching, heart wrenching fuck of your life, all was quiet.

Both of you were laid on your side, face to face, in closure and in warmth with his hand drawing circles on your back, feeling the soft texture of your golden bronze skin, curls brushing along his knuckles and the duvet draped over your lower body.

You both hadn't said much after, just enjoying the aftercare of being in each other's presence a little more.

And when you thought you had messed up everything, he reassured you with those same three heartfelt words.

"I love you."

You looked at him in shock.

His heart shaped irises welcomed you with genuine, pure love from the depths of his soul.

To him, you were his prize possession, meaning, nothing was gonna keep him away from you, keep him from coming back to you.

You were his, he was yours, permanently.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑��𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 | ghostface!darren (pig) x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | he probably wasn't even invited to this party, because who would invite him? but he came anyways... just to torment you. far more than you could've imagined, in fact.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 2.5k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | NONCON DARK SMUT 18+ ONLY!!, public sex, degradation, pain kink, knife kink, a bit of predator/prey, blood kink, smoking, unprotected sex/implied risk of pregnancy, darren is kind of an incel lmao

It was a pretty traditional high school party— overcrowded, loud and sweaty, bad music and worse liquor— but at least the sea of costumes, ranging from scary to silly to sexy, added at least some new layer of interest to the whole thing.

You hadn’t tried very hard with your devil costume— more accurately an attempt at a ‘sexy devil’ costume— but you put on horns and heels with a tight red dress and nobody can really complain.  You weren’t really here to get into the ‘spooky spirit’ or whatever anyways, just an excuse to drink and maybe chat with some people you’d been missing.

The person you ended up chatting to right in that moment, though, was exactly the last person you wanted to talk to.

You didn’t even know there was someone behind you until you felt him press up to your back, suddenly hovering right by you.  “Want a drink?” he asked, shoving a cup towards you, but you were too busy nearly jumping out of your skin to care— you almost knocked the drink over, actually some of it did splash onto another partygoer, but she was too drunk to notice.

“Fuck!” you yelped, turning to see the gangly boy behind you.  “Christ, Darren, do you have to always sneak up on a girl like that?”

He just smiled and tried to offer the drink to you again.

“M’already holding one,” you pointed out with a frown, “didn’t ya notice?”

“O-oh yeah,” he mumbled, lowering the cup finally.  “Costume looks good.”

“Thanks,” you shrugged, though you suddenly felt the urge to tug down the bottom of your dress.

“You’re not worried what the boys are gonna think with you dressed like that?” he asked, and you glared at him as you shoved his shoulder.  

“Don’t you think before you open your fuckin’ mouth?” you spat.  “What are you, anyway?”

The black robes didn’t really tell you anything— not until he reached behind his head and pulled a Ghostface mask over his face.

“Oh,” you snorted, “not the most original, is it?”

“Don’t like t’movie?” he wondered as he pulled the mask back again.

“I mean, it’s pretty good,” you relented, “but—”

“You wanna fuck ‘im, don’t you?” he insisted suddenly with a lascivious grin. 

“What?” you squinted.

“Ghostface,” he clarified, “you’re one of the girls who thinks he’s fit, yeah?”

“Why are you always such a creep?” you asked him with a grimace, but then you decided to change the topic quickly.  “Kinda thought you’d be a pig or something,” you admitted, “with the nickname and all.”

“Nah, that’s stupid,” he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms— which made you notice the prop knife in his hand.  It actually looked pretty good, shinier than most plastic costume knives.

Just then, Jimmy O’Doyle sauntered up beside you, slipping his arm around your shoulders.  “Ay, little devil,” he greeted, flicking the red horns on your head as you smiled sheepishly.

He hardly acknowledged Darren, spare for a quick nod, but Darren was staring at Jimmy for a little too long before he looked at you again.

“Thought you said you didn’t want a boyfriend,” Darren said sharply, glowering a bit.

Jimmy scoffed and you shifted uncomfortably; Darren tended to be… what’s the word… desperate?  Clingy?  Overall bizarre?  He certainly couldn’t take much of a hint.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said first, though that didn’t really matter— you didn’t need any reason to reject Darren, outside of your natural self-preservation instinct.  He actually wasn’t bad-looking, but it was hard to tell past those leering eyes and the uncomfortable smile.  He wasn’t smiling now though… he looked quietly enraged, sipping pointedly on his drink as he glanced away for a moment.  

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Jimmy smirked at you, hardly waiting for your nod before disappearing back into the crowd.

Suddenly, as you felt Darren’s livid gaze from awkwardly close, you decided that you needed a little fresh air.  And by that, you really meant a cigarette.

Not wanting to tell Darren that you were going outside for a smoke, you instead mumbled some excuse about going to the loo— somewhere he was just sane enough not to follow you to— and bumped through the crowd until you found a door out into the neighbourhood.

There was a slight drizzle still going outside— more of a misting, really— that made everything all foggy and grey, spare for the yellow-y glow of the streetlamps dotting the way.  It wasn’t a full moon, as cool as that would be, but near to one… regardless, it wasn’t visible behind low, dark clouds, leaving the night starless and dreary.  There wasn’t much to look at in the alley as you lit your cigarette and took slow drags from it, so as you stared blankly forward at brick walls with chipping whitewash, your mind wandered a bit.  Nothing of great merit: upcoming assignments, the possibility of an afterparty, the lingering hope you could find a steamy hook-up for the night… you didn’t just put this outfit on for the pictures.

Before you could get too far into your imagination, you were startled by a distant sound, jumping slight as your head turned towards it— but it was just the dark alley, not much to see.  You squinted, trying to make out movement in the shadows, but for quite a while you couldn’t see anything.

Only when you turned your head back forward with a shrug was there any sign of what you’d heard, just a shift in the corner of your eye.  You looked at it again, and you hated to admit it, but your heart froze up for a second when that white face emerged from the darkness.

Of course, you gave your best unaffected scoff when you actually processed what you were looking at.

“Quit it, Darren,” you warned, willing your voice to sound stable as you shouted down the road towards him, “you’re not gonna scare me.”

You watched him move closer, stepping into the light so you could see him better, and tried to ignore the way the hairs on your neck stood up.  If he knew he was getting to you, he’d just keep doing it; you rolled your eyes and took a drag through your cigarette to try to seem nonchalant… but you had to stop your hand from shaking just a bit.  Only because it was chilly out, surely…

You thought it was a joke— a stupid joke, but still just a joke— until he dragged his knife along the brick wall as he stalked toward you.  The sharp, high-pitched screech of metal against stone was unmistakable… and that was how you realised it was a real knife.  A very sharp, very real knife; he’s going to actually kill me, you thought, just before you let out a primal and instinctive scream.

Turning on your heel, you ran as fast as you could.  Each rapid pulse of your heart pumped adrenaline through your veins, and you felt so shaky that you worried the light night breeze would knock you over.  

These were far from running shoes, though— they were pretty excruciating to just stand in, actually— and it was only a few blocks of a chase before you tripped.  Yelping in pain, you tried to scramble up or even crawl forward… but just as you rolled over and winced from landing on your hip, you saw him stalking forward into the flickering light of a streetlamp.

He was probably just going to take the mask off and laugh at you, right?  Reveal the whole thing was a silly prank and the knife was fake and that he just wanted to prove you were scared of him.  Yes, that would be the most sane thing for him to do at that moment, even after being so not-sane by chasing you with a knife.  Instead, as you tried to crawl back, he just tilted his masked head curiously at you, and with his free hand reached down and palmed at his groin.  He was hard— you could see the outline of it through his costume, his hips rocking forward slightly into his palm as you heard a muffled hiss from his mouth.

He knelt down and grabbed your kicking legs, roughly yanking you closer and hovering above you menacingly.  “C’mon and scream for me,” he ordered with a delighted purr, pulling his mask back, laughing when what came out of you was more of a wail or sob instead.  “Louder, y’little whore—”

“Get off me!” you shrieked, trying to fight him away, whining as he laid down over you instead and licked your neck.  You turned your head with a grimace, shuddering as his weight pinned you against the slightly-damp pavement.

“G’na show Pig how tight the little hole gets when you’re scared— aren’t ya, fuckin’ slut?”

“Be serious, Darren— s’not funny, get away from me!”

You struggled less when he flashed the knife; as little as you could, in fact you actually nearly froze as he teased you with it, running the tip down the front of your dress with just enough pressure to pop a few sequins off, making you whimper in terror.  He laughed, though— a small, dark, chuckle.  “Quiet now,” he noticed.  “Don’t make a fuss, sweetheart.”

You had to bite your lip to hide a shout, though, when a gloved hand up slipped under your short dress, grabbing greedily at your lacy panties.  He licked his teeth, bared by his grin, as he stared at you with those haunting eyes of his.  “Wet, aren’tcha, girl?” he taunted— not that he’d be able to feel it through his black gloves, but past your own groaning you could almost hear it (though you tried not to).

“You’re such a creep!” you spat, though you tried to regulate your tone as you glanced at his knife again, held against you by one of his hands on your arm; maybe part of you still thought he would stop and admit it was a joke, but the darkness in his stare made you doubt that more and more.  The gravity of the situation still hadn’t really set in yet— sure, you were coursing with fear and had goosebumps all over, but it didn’t totally feel real.

“Won’t take too long,” he promised with a sigh as he hastily tugged his costume out of the way, still pinning you down with one hand (if not as effectively).  When he roughly yanked his cock out, proudly brandishing it between your legs as your eyes went wide… that’s when it felt real.

“Don’t,” you gasped instantly, looking up at him with pleading eyes.  “Don’t, Darren, please— you can’t—”

“Shh,” he hissed quickly, “s’good— gonna feel good, alright?”

He gasped loudly as he pushed inside you, eyes shutting tight before he dropped his head down onto your chest.  “Fuck, girl— what’s a whore cunt so tight for?”

Not wasting any time, he pulled his hips back and roughly thrusted forward into you again, making you choke on your cry.

“S’for me, isn’t it?” he decided with a sick sort of grin.  “Want Pig to feel good?  Like t’squeeze the thick cock, don’t ya?”

“I— I fuckin’ hate you,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes tight, in disgusted disbelief that this was happening— that it was him inside you, holding you down.  But you couldn’t forget it, not with him moaning and purring above you, mumbling stuttered praises… and the feeling of it, it was impossible to ignore, as much as you hoped to somehow.  It was a deep stretch, each thrust making your chest tighten out of more than just fear.

“Mmf, fuck,” he grunted, holding onto you tighter— another reminder he still had that fucking knife.  “Pretty— it’s a pretty thing… it’s warm inside…”

Grimacing, you hated the way your body responded to his lewd comments about it; your walls clenched on him slightly, you could tell by the way you felt even more sore inside than before.

He pressed the knife up against your neck, growling in amusement at your wince of fear.  “Think Pig’s gonna slice you?”

“I… I don’t know,” you stammered out your answer, eventually.

“Waste of a pretty face, no?” he smirked, moving the knife up and caressing the side of your face with it— not that it could really be called a caress, all rigid and cold like that… “Say please.”

“Huh?”

“Say please,” he repeated, “beg me not to hurt you.”

“Already are,” you sneered at him, but he pressed the knife to your neck with a little more intention— a little more pressure, a wild look in his eyes suddenly— as he insisted again.

“Wanna hear you beg,” he spat.  “Do it or Piggy might hurt you worse.”

“Please, please,” you whispered shakily, shutting your eyes.  “Please don’t, Darren…”

You gasped sharply as he pressed the knife down just enough to draw a thin line of blood, only to pull the blade away and lick hungrily at the wound.  Feeling dizzy and sick, you winced at the sting of his tongue lapping at your pierced skin, lips wrapping around and suckling as teeth dug painfully into your pulse.

He thrusted faster, recklessly so, and bit down on his lip as he breathed heavier.  You were too focused on how painfully deep he was going to really process anything when he started to slow down— that is, you felt that he was slowing down, and didn’t think for a minute about why he was slowing down.  

His loud, low groan gave it away; you snapped back to reality and looked up at him in a new kind of fear.  “Fuck, Darren, did you just—?!” you whimpered, squirming harder as you realised what he’d done.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed you sharply, hissing as he grabbed a tight hold of your hip.  “Stay fuckin’ still, girl— fuck, I’m still coming—”

You yelped and tried harder to fight him off, but he kept you pinned down easily, even forcing you into a rough and sloppy kiss.

He sighed into it after a second, relaxing on top of you until it was a little hard to breathe under his weight.  You whined and tried to break away, but the hand with the knife still in it held your jaw, the cold metal pressing threateningly against your face.

Whimpering and blinking up at him, you met his icy gaze and he smiled proudly down at you.  “Little devil, eh?” he smirked as he toyed with your horned headband, which had become quite dishevelled from all the running and struggling.  “Your blood matches the outfit— poor whore, red all over…”

“Darren,” you choked, fighting a sob of disbelief as you felt him pull out of you with a hiss— a steady, sticky leak giving away how much he’d come.  “What the fuck did you do?”

“Don’t be fussin’, girl, like I said,” he rolled his eyes, though he was still grinning wide.  “Ready to go back to the party now?  Or do you just want Pig to take y’home, sweetheart?” 

[bellaveux]

more fuckgirl!wanda x reader , can we have wanda show her protective dom side

OFF LIMITS | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: wanda hates the way everyone is ogling at you, and makes sure to remind everyone that you are, very much, off limits.

content warnings: minors dni please. college au!, fuckgirl!sorority president!wanda, dom!wanda, jealousy, possessiveness, bottom!reader, smut! – mirror sex, semi-public sex, overstimulation, fingering, marking/hickeys

word count: 3.28k

note. writing feels kinda all over the place am sorry,, i went both protective and possessive (they sometimes confuse me while writing loool) but i hope u enjoy it and ty for request!

Wanda was both a woman of contradictions and a force to be reckoned with. On one hand, she was a disciplined and hard-working leader, respected by her peers and admired for her dedication to the sorority. On the other, she was a party animal, a woman who loved nothing more than to let loose, have a good time, and charm women left and right. No doubt was she popular, with everyone from the freshmen to the seniors looking up to her as a role model. Her energy was infectious, and her spirit was unstoppable, as she flitted from one party to another, always with a smile on her face and a drink in her hand.

And her game was undoubtedly unmatched. With the tiniest twinkle in her eye and a sultry smile on her lips, Wanda could make even the most stoic person melt with desire. She was the object of desire for many who crossed her path, making her popularity with everyone on campus legendary, people drawn to her like a magnet. Enjoying the game of love, teasing and tempting those around her, she loved the attention, and always knew how to charm and seduce with ease. Her flirtatious nature was a part of her, an extension of her personality, and it was something that she enjoyed using to her advantage. It was a game that she played with finesse and skill, a dance of words and gestures that left those around her breathless and wanting more.

But while others voluntarily gave her attention, there was only one person she wanted, and that was you.

You and Wanda always had an undeniable attraction towards each other, a magnetic force that seemed to draw you together, no matter how hard you tried to resist. There was a tension between you two, a spark that ignited every time you were in the same room, eyes locking, and bodies leaning in closer. It was as if you shared a secret language, a hidden connection that only you and her could understand, and that seemed to grow stronger with every passing day. And yet, despite your chemistry, you were not together, and it seemed as if you would never be. Much to Wanda’s disappointment, you have always rejected her pursuits and advances. Unlike her, you valued the time you spend with another person, wanting more than to be a fling. You wanted love from someone who adored you, someone who made you feel special, and initially, you didn’t think Wanda could be that person.

Wanda stood at the edge of the crowded sorority party, drink in her hand, eyes fixed on you. The room was alive with music and chatter, but for Wanda, it all faded away into the background as she watched as you entered the room, greeting everyone who came up to you with such gracefulness. Wanda always knew you liked to look good, but God, why did you have to wear something as sexy as that? The black dress hugged your curves in all the right places, the skin on your back completely exposed for everyone to see. Wanda was entranced, her heart beating faster as she felt the pull of attraction towards you. She tried to look away, to focus on something else, maybe on the girls who were already talking to her, but no one could compete with you, the woman who had captured her attention completely, dependably each and every time. Wanda couldn't help but admire the way you moved in that dress, with a grace and poise that seemed effortless. And as your eyes met across the crowded room, Wanda felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her body just right before you smirked and turned away from her, returning to your friends.

And so, she watched you all night, unable to focus on the rest of the people around her, who wanted her attention. She was too captivated by you, like she was under a spell, and couldn’t do anything else but stare.

Soon, she noticed that she wasn’t the only one who saw you. Of course, she wasn’t. Everywhere you walked, between the sea of people, heads turned and eyes followed, as the other people in the party looked on in awe and admiration. Your beauty was almost surreal, a dream-like quality that made you seem like you were from another world entirely. You, like her, were popular in the way that everyone on campus wanted to be with, but no one could quite capture. And Wanda wanted to have the honor.

She watched as all sorts of people came up to you, asking to dance, for your number, and introducing themselves like they even had a chance. As the seconds passed, Wanda’s jealousy grew. You would throw that pretty smile of yours their way as you politely rejected them. Some of them would even become quite touchy with you, and Wanda hated being the one to watch on the sidelines. She wanted everyone to back off, tell everyone that you were hers, a territory no one shall trespass.

And when you allowed a bubbly freshman, dressed in an all black suit, named Kate, to stay a little longer than Wanda would’ve liked, touching you softly down your back as you spoke and drank from the cup she had gotten you, Wanda decided to take action.

“Don’t touch her,” Wanda said firmly as she stood closely behind you, watching the younger woman immediately pull her hand back off of you.

“Wanda,” you warned, glancing up at her, cautiously eyeing her with your sly eyes for her next move.

Kate watched the interaction carefully, seemingly finding it hard to butt in under the sudden tension that Wanda had brought along with her, “S-Sorry… Hi, I’m Kate.”

Wanda said nothing, and instead, she threw a tiny, bitter smile at her before turning back to you, her hand slowly creeping up your waist. You did little to stop her touch, and if anything, you found yourself leaning closer. It never surprised you how good Wanda was at being territorial and overprotective she was when it came to you, and under your facade, you found it attractive.

“Do you think I could steal you away for just a second?” Wanda whispered into your ear, but loud enough for Kate to catch.

You put your cup down against the counter of the bar and smiled artfully, shaking your head at her, “Uh, actually, Kate and I were having a conversation here, so I really don’t think you can.”

Wanda hummed in annoyance, taking a moment to glare at you as you turned back to the other woman. She felt a pang of jealousy in her chest, watching you and this Kate interact as if she wasn’t even there, and she wanted nothing more than to drag you away from her and all the lingering eyes that were currently still on you. At this point, her blood boiled at every little thing everyone did around you.

“Kate,” Wanda tried again, more firmly this time, as if steam was coming from her ears, face almost red with anger. “Do you mind?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, no— of course,” she laughed awkwardly, backing up as slowly as if she had just angered a lion.

And so, Kate left, much to Wanda’s satisfaction, but it did much to fuel your irritation towards Wanda’s actions. And right when she left, another person came up, as if they were in line to talk to you, but instead, Wanda shot them a deathly glare, and they immediately backed off.

You sighed and turned towards the counter, rubbing your temples without even looking at her, “What is wrong with you?”

“I just did you a favor,” Wanda scoffed and folded her arms as you moved away from her. “She wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you, (y/n).”

“Why is sex the only thing on your mind, Wanda? I was just talking to her. Like a normal person,” you tell her, rolling your eyes.

“Oh, come on, you and I both know what she was doing,” she said. “She was all over you.”

She couldn't help but feel possessive over you, and the thought of anyone else touching you or even flirting with you was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

And finally, you turned to her and smirked, your chin in the palm of your hands as you looked up at her through your eyelashes, “Mm, and why is that so important to you?”

“You know why.”

You, in fact, did know why. After all the times Wanda has chased after you, trying desperately to get you to accept her advances, you never did, not wanting to be a part of her seemingly long list of women that she played with. No, initially, you decided you’d do the playing, teasing her without any further intentions afterwards, and it only made her want you more. But at this point, you longed for Wanda’s touch, despite how infuriating she can be at times. The undeniable attraction you had towards each other tied you together, and Wanda only wanted you all to herself.

You shook your head once more and stepped forward, bringing your hand up to flatten out her collar neatly, “It’s kinda cute when you’re jealous.”

Wanda said nothing to deny that and instead, she clenched her jaw while savoring your touch, feeling the tips of your fingers graze her neck softly.

She stood close, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to keep her cool. But you were teasing her with the way you stepped forward, looking up at her with those pretty eyes in a way that made Wanda's frustration grow with each passing moment. It was maddening, the way you played with her, toying with her emotions. Wanda felt a surge of anger rising within her, a fire that threatened to consume her if she didn't do something about it. She tried to maintain her composure, to keep a cool head, but it was no use. Everything you did and said was like a knife, cutting deep into Wanda's heart and making her ache with desire.

Ultimately, unable to take it any longer, she grabbed your wrist and dragged away from the bar, away from every single person who eyed you, through the crowd and into the hallways where she pulled you into one of the many bathrooms in the whole building.

Wanda wrapped her arms around your waist, her front pressed up against your back, holding you close with her lips barely grazing the skin of your neck and her hands running down the sides of your dress. This damn dress. The way it clung to the curves of your body, the fabric draped in such a way that showcased your back, revealing just enough to keep her wanting more. The sight of your bare skin was tantalizing, and Wanda felt a flutter in her chest as she pressed up against you.

“I don’t like the way they keep staring at you,” Wanda confessed as you watched her slowly pepper soft kisses down your neck to your shoulder through the reflection of the mirror.

Your eyelids fluttered closed, reveling in the softness of her lips against your skin, “What are you going to do about it?”

And you felt it — a smirk against your shoulder, making you realize what you had suddenly gotten yourself into. Wanda squeezed your hips with her hands, proudly looking at you through the mirror as if she were savoring the moment she now had you all to herself, in her arms, in her hands.

“I’m gonna remind them that you’re off limits.”

Surprisingly, Wanda was being so gentle, kissing and sucking at your skin softly, marking you, littering plenty of hickeys down your neck and shoulder, and you watched her do it in the mirror. You watched when one of her hands would travel up from your waist to wrap her palm around the swell of your breasts, fondling them eagerly, making you hum a moan in satisfaction. Her other hand found its way down to your thighs, moving slowly under your dress. You couldn’t help but watch again, the sight in the mirror almost making your knees give out, as Wanda moved the hand that was on your breast down to the hem of your dress, bunching up the fabric to pull it up your thighs.

Her fingers finally traced the hem of your panties as she watched your face carefully in the reflection. You looked so pretty like this, practically melting in her arms, lips parted with your eyes closed, as she played with you. After a second of admiring the way you looked, Wanda brought a hand up to grab your jaw, turning your head towards her, before leaning into you for a sloppy kiss, opening your mouth as she pressed a finger to your clothed clit. You moaned into her mouth, giving her perfect chance to slide her tongue into yours, immediately falling in love with the way you tasted. Oh, Wanda just couldn’t wait to have her way with you.

“You’re so wet for me already,” she whispered in your ear, fingers still playing over your clothed sex. “I’ve barely touched you yet.”

“Wanda,” you breathed, eyes closed as you laid your head back against her shoulder.

“No, baby, open your eyes,” she smiled into your cheek as you followed her instructions. “I want you to watch when I fuck you.”

You didn’t know how your knees didn’t just give out the moment she said those words. Not wanting to disappoint, you made sure to keep your eyes open as best you could, watching how her hands moved underneath the fabric of your dress. When you finally feel her fingers slipping into your panties, Wanda moans against your shoulder, her eyes rolling back as she feels the wetness of your pussy. You were practically dripping.

Without wasting another second, Wanda pushed two fingers into you with ease. You moaned softly, immediately clenching around her as she curled her fingers into you, pressing against the sweet spot in your pussy, which she seemed to have no trouble finding.

“You can do better than that, baby,” Wanda whispered, fingers suddenly pumping in and out of you at a brutal pace. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“Mmh–W-Wanda,” you moaned out, holding on to her wrist as she fingered you. “Oh, fuck!”

Her second hand was brought into play shortly after, using it to rub your clit roughly, making you jolt against her, legs shaking, and your slick slowly traveling down your thighs. The sight of you writhing against her in the reflection was almost too hot for you to look at, always turning your head away, only for Wanda to grab your jaw and turn you back to face the mirror. You were tight around her fingers, and Wanda couldn’t help but groan at the fact, staring at you through the mirror as you came undone on her fingers.

You shook erratically as you came, unable to think about anything else but the orgasm she had just given you. That was until you felt her pushing in a third finger into your leaking hole without any warning. You tried to push against her, to ask her to give you a second, but something about the way her eyes looked in the mirror as she stared at you gave you a feeling that she would just keep doing whatever she pleased.

So, you let her, no matter how sensitive you were.

“That’s it, baby,” she groaned. “Being such a good girl for me.”

“Please, please—“ you whined, not sure if you were begging for more or begging her to stop.

The stretch of her three fingers was enough to make you chant her name like a prayer as she fucked you through your first orgasm. She was knuckles deep into your squelching pussy, curling them in a rhythmic pattern against your sweet spot, and it made you wonder how you were still standing. Her fingers piston in and out of you, bringing you to the edge for the second time tonight, making your bones feel like jelly. And finally, you arch your back against her, coming right on her fingers once again, screaming her name out without a care in the world, knowing everyone outside the door must’ve heard you.

But Wanda kept going. She continued to finger you, lost in thought after watching you come twice in the mirror, your cunt gushing so loudly, it’s embarrassing.

“Look how pretty you are, (y/n),” she cooed, using her other hand to grope your tits.

“I- I can’t, Wanda, p-please—“ you whined, gripping onto her tightly, unable to watch yourself through the mirror anymore. “T-Too much, please!”

“But you're so pretty when you beg. Why wouldn't I just keep going and going and... going?”

And so, she does. She fucks you until you can barely stand anymore, when your knees buckle, and she has to hold you up with one arm around your waist and even then, she still keeps going, and you’re sobbing at the overstimulation. You almost nearly fall and curl in on yourself, but Wanda made sure to keep you steady, bringing you to the edge another time, and another… and another.

By the end of it, you laid back against her, holding you up completely as your legs have given out. Your eyes were heavy, threatening to close as Wanda soothed out your dress with one hand, kissing you softly down your neck again, this time over the prettiest purple bruises that littered all over your skin. Her lips were warm, soft, and settling as she kissed you. She took in the sight of you with her eyes locked onto you through the mirror; you had your eyes closed, heavily exhaling, hair ruffled and messy, and yet, you looked like the prettiest mess ever. Her pretty girl.

“You’re so perfect,” Wanda whispered lovingly into your ear, her breath ticking your skin. “I don’t like having to fight for your attention.”

The way she said that last sentence was kind of sad, in the way that it hurt her feelings, and you could only hum in response as you slowly but surely regained your composure, shifting slightly in Wanda’s arms. You always knew Wanda was the jealous type, maybe overly jealous, but you found it endearing how she endlessly chased after you, how she still wanted you after tonight.

“You really don’t even have to, Wanda,” you tell her softly, trying to stand upright, wobbling slightly as you did so, to turn and cup her face with your hands. “You know everything I do is so that you can keep your eyes on me.”

“It works every time.”

You chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to her lips, melting when she smiled into it, “That’s why I do it.”

Wanda took a moment to look at you after you pulled away from her lips. Your lipstick was smudged, spreading slightly down under your bottom lip sexily, making Wanda want nothing more than to kiss you again. And nothing was stopping her, so she did. She was happy, finally being able to have you like she had always wanted and knowing the fact that when you walk out of this bathroom, everyone will see all the marks and bruises Wanda left on you. Because of it, she felt a surge of satisfaction as she pulled you close, determined to show everyone outside just who you belonged to.

That way no one would even dare to try to take her woman again tonight, reminding them that you were hers, and hers alone.

— navigation!

[kaibutsushidousha]

Thoughts on Shuten and Ibaraki (separately)?

Really challenging (separately) there since Shuten and Ibaraki are part of the same myth, introduced in the same event, and generally depicted together, but sure, I can work with that. Shuten and Ibuki, however, are part of the same character and have to go together. Also, see this post if you haven't yet.

Ibukidouji/Shutendouji

In 2002, Colorful Tsukihime established that oni come from two possible origins. Shimousa adds a third kind later, but what matters is that Shuten and Ibaraki were conceived as examples of the original two. Unworshipped gods, those who failed to abide to the rules of civilization, and their bloodlines (Shuten) or mutants with power far beyond what falls within the human category, those perfectly unrecognizable as human, and their bloodlines (Ibaraki).

Her backstory is horribly fragmented, even for Sakurai's standards, but assuming we already have all the pieces (and it really looks like we do), I believe it goes like this. The Hii River existed as part of nature, and the faith of the ancient Izumo tribes deified the river spirit (who was also a dragon for some reason) into Yamata-no-Orochi, who was then slain by Susanoo. Orochi's eight heads continued existing as eight mountain gods, one of them being Ibukidouji at Mt. Ibuki. Yamato colonization happens, despite Yamato Takeru's death at Ibukidouji's hands, and Ibukidouji loses her worship. She takes a wholly unelaborated trip to China during the process, and around the late 900s, returns to Japan now with her divinity pretty much fully degraded. After a minor stop at Mt. Sagara, she eventually takes nest at Mt. Ooe, meets Ibaraki and spends the rest of her life as a freeloader in Ibaraki's place until Kintoki cuts her neck.

Ibuki/Shuten has been through multiple self-identities there and displays completely personalities each time, but there are things are a couple of things that are consistent in every version of her. The first and more outwardly obvious is her free-spirited hedonism. Her moral compass doesn't judge in terms of beneficial vs harmful, it judges in terms of pleasant vs unpleasant. Drinking obviously poisoned sake? Fun. No regrets, no grudges against Raikou. Getting her head lopped off by a sexy blue-eyed blonde? Fun. No regrets, no grudges against Kintoki. But what is her criteria of what's fun and what's not? That's where the other consistent trait of all of her personas comes in.

Shuten describes herself as a devoted oni. Despite her lack of inhibitions, she's very loyal and devoted to the ones she likes. You can see that since her debut event, where she orchestrated temporarily giving her powers to Ibaraki, but the extreme extents of her subservience only show for real when you see her multiple personas. Ibuki/Shuten is, above all else, loyal to the labels assigned to her. She will be what she's expected to be, at all times.

Ibukidouji originally identify as a god, and while this is not a timeframe ever covered on screen, in a few moments, mainly through her Heian portrayal and her costume, she shows her ability to behave regally and imposingly as expected of a god. She also assigned brutal trials to Saburou like he believed a god should and did the same to Dorothea during his own tenure as a Divine Spirit, but I don't know which of the two started this cycle. There's also the one time Yamato Takeru got fatally owned, but we get surprisingly little detail on that.

Ibuki's 1st Ascension aka Tinybuki is, as shown on her interlude, Ibuki with her divinity pretty much fully degraded. It's Ibuki/Shuten at her most serious ever, acting less like a god who does what it wants and more like a part of nature teaching young Kintoki its rules. It's an interesting phase where she lost the freedom of her god label and has yet to discover the freedom of her oni label, so she's kinda just vaguely bitter and no-nonsense. In different terms, it's after she stopped being loved by many and had yet to come to terms with the liberating idea of being the enemy of many idolized by a close few.

Then Shutendouji is the textbook oni. A walking disruption of human normalcy. Shamelessly depraved, violently monopolizing of anything that piques her interest, selfish as selfish can get (superficially) and easily prone to harming, killing, and eating people. An oni so oni that Ibaraki fell in love with her ability to perform the oni label. More on that in Ibaraki's half of the post.

But then Assassin Shutendouji doesn't eat people because her new label is Fujimaru's Servant and Fujimaru doesn't want her to do that. Then she makes a silly magical girl persona for Ibaraki's sake. Then Fujimaru's Ibuki just takes it a step further and adopts a whole new persona as a nice lady from Fujimaru's era. Compare and contrast to the Douman-summoned Ibuki, who stuck consistently to her most divine persona because Douman only wanted power out of her.

Heian's ultimate self-sabotage gets funnier the more you understand the characters, honestly. Douman gave up last minute on making Ibuki a new Beast because he couldn't trust that Ibuki would remain loyal to CHALDEAS like he is, but Ibuki is all about being who others want her to be. And Douman failed to realize despite her use of absolute loyalty to compensate for her lack of a more self-originating personality being something that Douman shares with her identically. I've talked about this before.

Her last major identity is her summer form. Arctic Summer World and her profile phrase her change into a Berserker Saint Graph as "redefining her self as a goddess of summer" and iirc there's even some mention of dismantling and rebuilding herself in there, making the concept feel more literal than it sounds. It shows how radical Ibuki's label swaps are, if true. There she tries to make an eternal summer for Fujimaru to enjoy (mixing her labels as a summer goddess and as Fujimaru's Servant) and then asks to be pacified in combat when rejected (mixing her Berserker and oni-god labels). It's only when her main collaborators Skadi and Douman tell her to stop that she does, because Ibuki/Shuten always is what the people she cares about want her to be, and this reaction proved she was using a persona literally no one wanted.

Then there's Samurai Remnant portrayal that's just weird. She mixes and matches traits from all her versions in FGO, with no intention of trying to be what Yasuhiro wants her to be. I guess having an identity independent of her Master is a that's a mark of impartiality characteristic of the Ruler class, but I think I'll have to come back to this one after the Ordeal in April.

Still, there are a few characteristics that are wholly unique to Shutendouji. Things that clearly came as a product of time and experience rather than as her nature to comply to expectations. The first being that Shuten is far more protective of her Shuten identity. Ibuki is willing to immediately throw her more divine persona to be Fujimaru's sweet neighbor figure, but Shuten, even becoming Oni Cure for Ibaraki, remains very recognizable Shuten. Also, when the Ibuki side of her Saint Graph tries to take her over in her Interlude, she very aggressively says she's Shutendouji and her older self doesn't get a turn on her Shuten Saint Graph. Ibuki and Shuten are otherwise very unshakably flippant, so Shuten's rejection of her past behavior stands out as her rare moment of vulnerability.

The other trait exclusive to Shuten is her clever talent to attend to her friends' needs. Ibuki is described as a corrupting force that ultimately kills everything she touches, but Shuten is very helpful to the one she cares for in very thoughtful ways, while ensuring the circumstances still make her look evil.

Her debut has knocking herself unconscious for the whole event give Ibaraki the power she needed to prove herself and overcome her complexes about not being oni enough. The pair's dialogue is designed to resemble interactions between an employee and an abusive boss, but in reality, Ibaraki is the real boss who only lets Shuten have control because she loves Shuten as an example of a what an oni should, and takes Shuten's fake authority as a lesson that lets survive leading her army of oni. She orchestrates the whole first tower event to help Tomoe sort through her denial of her oni blood while under the pretense of self-interest in human-oni relationships. And so on.

Disclaimer: I hereby promise that I really, really tried to fit a "snake sheds skin" metaphor to describe Ibuki's ability to easily discard personas, but I couldn't a proper place for it in the text. Sorry.

Ibarakidouji

Ibaraki, despite being the more interesting part of the duo, has a lot less things to talk about. She's surprisingly straightforward. Her backstory is as fragmented as Shuten's, but her fragments are clearly meant to be a neat puzzle the player is meant to solve. I have a past post about it. Plus addendum.

Ibaraki's deal is that she's a naturally conscientious, diligent, non-proactive, and cowardly kid trying and failing to be live up to the capricious, arrogant, and decadent image of an oni as described by her dear mother. Ibaraki was raised without freedom and instilled with the idea that should embody freedom as an oni. But when she kills her mother and begins living by her oni identity, she doesn't know how to be free.

In her very human-like way of thinking, she becomes the leader of a band of oni, something unprecedented because a true selfish oni would never think of grouping together. Through that she discovers Shuten and grows enamored with the ex-god's ability to embody the platonic ideal of an oni. So while Ibaraki remains the leader on paper, she made Shuten the freeloader who call the shots. As someone who processes the world as rules that need to be followed, having a role model like Shuten around is the most reassuring thing ever.

What Ibaraki can't possibly know is that she struggles so hard to be an oni correctly because there's a complicated human behind her oni mask, while Shuten, as shown mainly through Ibuki, can perform any label effortlessly because there's a blank slate behind her multiple masks.

[celestialtarot11]

thank youuu < 3 your thoughts on leo rising woman < 3

Leo rising woman—

—Creative entrepreneurial spirit and youthful energy! Charismatic, funny, intelligent and flamboyant. Great at having a good time with others and she knows how to party. Depending on her other placements however—she may not necessarily appear extroverted at first.

—It’s like this, she can be extroverted around the right people.

—Curious and passionate, and romanticizes life. Her inner child and spirit is what drives her to live vivaciously.

—But since it’s a high way up, she knows it’s a long way to fall down. She can experience low lows, and struggle a lot with coping with negative intense emotion. It’s very possible toxic positivity ran in the family, so there could have been a struggle to keep up with appearances.

—Jack of all trades! Can market very well, be into finance, business, arts. She can do well in theatre acting, especially in positions where she is able to take lead.

—But she can also struggle immensely with self confidence, lots of Leos experience others trying to diminish their authenticity. Especially their truth and integrity.

—Some Leo women can be strategic with their generosity for the appeal that comes with it. They may put themselves in certain positions of attention to be liked, approved of, validated, which I notice is common in disempowered Leos.

—Empowered Leos know they don’t need others validation, or attention to feel like they can be themselves. And they know the love they give will always return to them tenfold. It’s about showing up for yourself the way you want others to do so, and leaving behind those who give less.

—She is sexy and attractive, knowing how to carry herself with a natural grace. Persuasive when needed. Her laughter is infectious, and her smile is enough to melt the coldest hearts.

—Leo women also tend to have prominent figures, even though it doesn’t have to fit in the beauty standards! Their silhouette is naturally attractive. When she loved herself the world falls in love with her too.

—Incredible eye for detail. She may prefer to be organized, handle financial affairs accordingly and privately. She is observant with those around her, and encourages others to have boundaries and to think critically.

—She can be critical of herself and look down upon herself, sucking up the negativity of those around her. It’s quite possibly why she has such a great style or looks put together often—because she hears that voice in her head.

—And when empowered Leo women know they deserve to look and feel comfortable in their own skin regardless of what the people around them think. They know appearance is not a factor in determining how much love they should receive.

—Charming communicators and lovely to talk to.

—Protective and loyal to their closest friends and family!

[camillechan]

The light Emissary - Azriel x fem!reader (Chapter 1)

Hi guys! Here I am! Back for more actions! The first chapter after the prologue of my fanfic! Please, don't hesitate to leave comments about how you feel, how is it written and how I can improve myself!

Summary: Azriel and Y/N are suppose to meet at nightfall to do an under cover mission. Will they be able to seek what they need?

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Nothing also on this chapter, but for the incoming sexy times, violence and all that jazz.

Previous chapter / Next chapter

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

Chapter 1:

Y/N P.O.V

As soon as I arrive at the Day Court, I walk at a determined pace towards the armory. The interior of the Day Court palace is a masterpiece of light, gold, and elegance, designed to embody the eternal brilliance of the sun. Vast halls are bathed in a warm, golden glow that radiates from the walls, creating an ethereal and divine atmosphere. Polished marble floors shimmer in tones of pale gold and cream, veined with silver that catches the sunlight streaming through towering arched windows. High, vaulted ceilings are adorned with frescoes of sunny skies, soaring birds, and glowing celestial bodies, framed by intricate gold and white plasterwork. 

Magical golden orbs provide illumination when sunlight fades, ensuring no corner is ever cast in shadow. The Grand Hall boasts a breathtaking sunburst chandelier of enchanted glass and gold as I pass through it. Every element of the palace—from the glowing plants to the subtle floral fragrances—exudes tranquility, warmth, and timeless beauty, embodying the ideals of clarity and radiance that define the Day Court.

Everything I own, from my armors and weapons to my clothes, reflects the same description of this place. I need to find something suitable for the incoming mission. Something that will fit  for a spy. I have a feeling it won’t be easy to find what I need, but we do have spies in the Day Court, don’t we? As I reach the door, a messenger from Helion catches me before I enter. Mistiel, a childhood friend of mine. As my eyes set on his face, I remember our first encounter.

He had always been a whirlwind of sunshine and laughter, his golden locks catching the light with every playful tilt of his head. From the moment we met, he seemed to embody the very essence of joy, his presence like a warm breeze on a crisp day. His eyes, a sparkling shade of amber, held a mischief that was both endearing and infectious. There was a charm to him, not just in his radiant smile but in the way he seemed to find humor and light in the smallest things.

Growing up with him was like being tethered to a storm of energy—always moving, always laughing, always dreaming. He had an uncanny ability to lift my spirits, whether it was with a clever quip or a spontaneous adventure. His laugh was the kind that made others join in without knowing why, a bubbling, unrestrained sound that could pierce through even the darkest moods.

Despite his effervescent nature, there was a depth to him that he rarely let others see. In quiet moments, when it was just the two of us under the starlit sky, he would share his hopes, fears, and dreams with an openness that felt like a gift. He had a heart too big for his own good, always putting others first, always searching for ways to make the world brighter for those around him.

He was a contradiction—bubbly and carefree on the surface, yet fiercely loyal and protective underneath. I could never decide if his golden hair was more fitting as a reflection of his sunny disposition or the warmth of his soul. 

“Y/N, you are back. I could sense your arrival. How was the meeting with that spymaster?”

His voice brings me back to the present. The blond male is smiling faintly, but I can tell he is annoyed. His slender body is tense and his hands are in fists at his side.

“Good. We are gonna investigate my lead tonight.”

I tell him nonchalantly. He sighs and passes a hand in his short hair.

“It’s a bad idea. I know we are “allies” with the Night Court, but we can’t trust them fully. You shouldn’t put yourself in danger. Have you told our High Lord of that mission of yours?”

He reprimands me now. I furrow my brows and cross my arms on my chest. What happened to that warm boy I thought about a moment ago. It’s me who is annoyed now.

“You can’t tell me what I can or cannot do. I don’t want to waste Helion’s time if the mission leads to nothing.”

Since I outrank him, Mistiel backs down.

“Fine, but be careful.”  

He turns gracefully on his heels and leaves me there. What is going on with these males about being careful ? I know how to take care of myself. I shake my head and enter the armory. I look around carefully. 

The Day Court armory is a radiant haven of light and precision, where functionality meets artistry. Sunlight streams through narrow windows, amplified by enchanted mirrors, illuminating rows of golden plate armor adorned with delicate sunburst and floral engravings. 

The air carries a faint metallic tang, mingled with the scent of polished wood and leather. Weapons are masterpieces—swords with sun stone-inlaid hilts, golden-tipped arrows, and bows strung with enchanted silk. Shields gleam with radiant sunbursts, while enchanted items like speed-enhancing bracers and light-shielding cloaks add a magical edge. The armory embodies the court’s ideals of brilliance and grace, preparing warriors to shine like the sun in battle. 

But, shining in battle is clearly not what I have in mind for an undercover mission. I sigh and start to shuffle objects around. A mess later, I finally find a black leather armor that is sleek and form-fitting, designed for agility and stealth. Its surface is smooth yet durable, reinforced with subtle etchings of shadowy patterns that seem to shift in the light. 

I grab two twin black daggers that are equally menacing, their blades sharp and gleaming with a faint, dark sheen. The hilts are wrapped in textured leather for a secure grip, with understated designs that hint at deadly precision. Together, the armor and daggers exude an aura of lethal elegance, perfect for a shadowy warrior. Exactly what I need. Relieved that I have found what I need, I leave the room fully armored. I have the impression it will be a rough night.

***

As agreed and on time, I winnow to the Night Court border, the rendezvous point. I am fully prepared for what is coming and can’t wait to confirm my suspicion. I hope we will be able to find the information we are looking for to locate the damn Cauldron. I look around to see if Azriel is already here. As if on cue, the shadow clung to him like a second skin as he materialized from the darkness. I can see his eyes rake over my attire, noting the daggers at my waist. His slick voice pierces the silence of the night.

“Good, you’re prepared.” 

He murmured, voice low. He moves closer to me.

“We will fly there. We will be able to assess the area from the air.”

He unfurls his wings, the membrane dark against the night sky. Without any warning, he steps closer, strong arms encircling my waist.

“Hold on tight and don’t let go.”

He whispers into my ears sending shivers down my spine. He lifts me against his chest. My pulse quickens at the contact of his body against mine, but I don’t have much time to focus on the feeling since we launch into the sky. I grip his shirt, to pull myself closer. I have never flown with him before. The wind whipped around us as Azriel’s powerful wings cut through the sky. He held me close, his scarred hands firm but gentle. After a few moments, his voice resonated deep in my chest, his warm breath on my ear.

“We are approaching the area. I’ll put you down and go back to scout a bit. Hang it tight, we are landing.”

His muscles tensed as he began our descent, shadows swirling around us to conceal our approach. We land into a forest.As soon as our feet touch the ground, he releases me. I instantly feel the cold breeze of the night hit my back. 

“I’m gonna go scout, hide. I’ll be right back.”

He launches once more into the air. I watch him disappear concealed by his shadow. I turn around to assess my surroundings. The towering trees from this forest form a dense canopy, blocking all but the faintest glimmers of moonlight. The air is cool and heavy with the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves. Soft rustlings and distant calls of nocturnal creatures echo, their sounds amplified by the eerie silence. The ground is uneven, covered in a mix of gnarled roots and fallen foliage, while patches of mist swirl low among the trunks, adding an otherworldly feel. 

I place an hand on one of my daggers to reassure myself. I move a bit forwards, knowing the camp should be close by. Suddenly, a twig snaps nearby. In one fluid motion, Azriel is already back and pulls me behind a tree, pressing me against the bark. His body is shielding mine, wings half-unfurled. 

“Guards.”

He breathed, lips barely moving. 

“Two of them, armed.”

My heart is racing one mile an hour. I try to keep my breathing low. I can feel some kind of tug in my chest at the proximity of our bodies. I can feel the weight of his chest against mine and his scent… I close my eyes to try and regain my composure.

“When I give the signal, we move. Silent as death, understood ? Follow me close.“

His hazel eyes are locked onto mine, intense and unyielding. I want to stay hidden against him, but I need to focus on the mission. I peer into his eyes.

“Lead the way, Spymaster.”

He nods, giving me the signal. He moves silently, shadows clinging to him like a second skin. His scarred hand reaches the lower of my back and guides me forwards. We move in the dark. I follow him as we approach a dim lighted camp. Two guards are monitoring the entrance.

“I was able to see from the airborne view at least thirty soldiers in there. At the center of the camp, there is a war tent. Probably where we can find the information we need.”

His voice is above a whisper, he is still close, too close. With the shadows at his command, we pass through the entrance without much problems. We move fast, but quietly towards the tent he mentioned. Strangely, the entrance of the tent is not guarded. I look towards Azriel.

“This is weird, why isn’t it guarded?”

He hums as an answer and his kneen eyes scanning a bit more carefully the area. He pushed a bit more in my lower back.

“Let’s go. If something happens, I'll get us out.”

As we reached the entrance, he lifted his hand to stop me from moving further.

“Lay low, I will go check if it’s safe.”

I crouch and hide myself in the shadow of the tent. Azriel moves inside with grace. I wait for a couple of minutes, before his voice calls me from inside.

“It’s safe. Come in.”

I enter in a swift motion, my eyes adjusting to the soft light in the tent. I watch around. Two guards are unconscious on the ground. Azriel is already searching through bookshelves that are placed against the wall.

“Let’s hurry. I’ll search here, go look towards that table.”

He points towards a huge table at the center of the place. I walk closer without any noises and start looking at the paper sprayed on it. There are some texts irrelevants, but by moving the documents around, I find a map marked with red dots written across Prythian. 

“Azriel! Come and look at this.”

In an instant, he stands next to me, his eyes intensely watching the map.

“What are those?”

I can see he is thinking fast, trying to figure out what those red dots mean. Suddenly, I feel a dark energy pulsing from behind. As I get my daggers out, my body feels rigid. I drop my daggers on the ground. Azriel is now facing the direction of my frozen stare. Then, a voice, rich and dark, can be heard.

“Well, well, well… What do we have here ? An Illyrian and a kitten in my tent. Interesting…”

My eyes widen, we are in trouble.

[bonesandchalamet]

from the shining lights, to the sandy beaches, I’ll only love you — p.mellark

masterlist | pairing: peeta mellark x fem!reader

summary: bored and facing the capitol, you give the citizens of panem some drama to spice up the games

warnings: slight mentions of 18+ ideas but nothing graphic + mentions of insecurity

hours you think. it had to have been hours layered laying in woven grass blankets with flattened bread in your pockets that’s sure to be moldy soon from the moisture.

“how long have I been out?” a grunt escapes your lips to signal your awakening to them. you attempt to sit upward, but your hands were badly blistered and your arms were weak.

peeta lunged into the makeshift tent, he gently lays you back down shushing you to not worry about taking the next shift. after all, you’d been the one to trip over rocks in the acid rain, if anyone should get sleep it’s Finnick who carried you like it was nothing.

Finnick. sweet, sexy, district four, Finnick odair. the man women are obsessed with, and you could see why. his beautiful blue eyes and cocky smile, if it weren’t for the baker beside you, you’d be all over that fine man.

there was nothing wrong with peeta. his tenderness, the warmth he provides, he was an amazing boyfriend. but the ever thought of another man seemed to spark a load of questions piling up in your brain.

the storm had been out for awhile now, leaving you with some time of peace. you flip onto your left side, facing peeta, a wicked smile lifts your lips that he can’t even read. but it gives him something to laugh at in this place, “what’s your problem?”

“if you could fuck someone in the capitol would you do it? someone dressed like Effie?”

finnick makes a repulsive noise. hes had a fair share of capitol women, and even the sight of Effie was enough for him. having ran into her with zero makeup on, and nothing but a wig, Finnick odair would rather steer clear of any women from the capitol.

“I’d really prefer we think about our game plan—“

“it’s a simple question.” johanna finally wakes, she sits up carefully, her voice draws finnicks attention briefly from looking out.

sweat thickens above his upper lips. peeta knows there’s a correct answer. being in love with you, he’d never thought of another woman, so why would you ask? he can only imagine to lighten the mood, lift the spirits of the citizens watching in boredom, so he thinks it’s not harmful to play along?

“I’ve only ever wanted intimate moments with you.” peeta extends out his hand, the roughness of his palm touching your cheek, “you know I only love you.”

“this is such a yawn.” Johanna counters, she eagerly sits forward breaking the moment, “not a single woman caught your eye on the tour? you’re going to die anyway, might as well admit it.”

peeta let’s out a light laugh, and you know he’s serious. he’s only ever had eyes for you, but to Johanna, Finnick, haymitch, and potential sponsors, he needs to play in. he needs to draw them something, so he does what he’s a natural at; story telling.

“well there was a girl,” he pauses, eyes swiftly glancing at you before back at johanna, “hard to tell how old she was under those capitol lights, but she just kept following me. every room she was there, and I just couldn’t take my eyes off her.” he looks up the makeshift tent, a sadden glow casts across his face, “I wonder if I’ll see her again.”

you can’t quite remember a woman who followed him in every room besides yourself. maybe that’s who he was discussing? but he’d bought Finnick and Johanna’s approval leaving peeta to slip out the tent.

“what about you, y/n? sleep with a capitol or finnick?”

finnicks head snaps his head in the direction of his name, a spark lights in him earning a bright cocky smile, “I don’t bite, babe.”

it’s your turn to make a repulsive noise, but you know everyone at home is inching closer to their screens: would you screw around with Finnick for a night? or would you dare head back to the capitol? Finnick it is.

“just for a night,” you pause taking a long look at peeta. he’s fixated his eyes on something with the sand, probably just to occupy his mind from this conversation that’ll haunt his last memories with you, “I’d do Finnick, on the count that peeta can be there.”

“a threesome?” Finnicks words echo across the sandy beaches practically giving away your hiding spot, “I’m not sure I’ve ever done that.”

“I’d pay to be a fly on the wall of that night.” Johanna grins.

“I’ll pass. I don’t think I’d well with sharing.” Peeta blurts out.

a wide grin takes hold of Johanna’s face, yours is covered in a deep red blush that you’re thankful no one can make out in the darkness.

“peeta, possessive? never would’ve thought of that.”

it’s a shock to everyone, even you. peeta never showed any care that you were close to other guys, like Finnick or even beetee, but maybe it’s because he always knew you’d come back to him. he always knew it was him you’d love and swear you’d never leave. it must be the insecure feeling that if you saw what Finnick had, you’d leave.

to answer his worries, you wrap your arms around peetas neck and press a long kiss to his lips, “I kind of like it.”

“I’d rather sleep with haymitch than either one of you lovebirds.” finnick answers johannas question that was slightly forgotten from you three in the tent.

“come on, it’s my turn to watch.” johanna crawls out the tent, and for a second it’s just you two alone. you slip beside him, resting your head against his bicep, “who was the girl from the capitol?” you whisper.

a smile lifts to his lips, his shoulder slightly budges you to sit up, “who do you think?”

it was you. only you.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The Dating Game 3

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9

Okay, Rio, you can do this. Just act natural.

agatha agatha agatha

You know I can hear your thoughts, right? Focus!

yes beloved

…ugh.

"Hi, Jen."

"Oh hey, there's my adorable fake girlfriend! I was thinking that we should do a swimsuit shoot, what do you think? I look great in a bikini."

"I bet you do."

She does not. Why would you even say that??

you said act natural

Act natural, not flirt!

jealous you're jealous I love that you're jealous

"Hey, you're not starting to fall for me for real, right? Because I would completely understand if you were, but I'm not really looking at the moment. This is more of a 'me' era."

As if.

"Oh. Heh. Don't worry, you're not my type."

You tell her!

"…Okay, rude. So what did you want?"

"Do you want to do a ritual with me?"

"What, me and you, doing magic? …Sure. That's kind of sexy."

WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS

"It is."

Stop. Flirting.

hehehe jealous jealous jealous

"…Hey, Agatha. I know you're there."

"What?! How?"

"Your crazy girlfriend growing flowers all over my shop is kind of a dead giveaway."

"…Rio…"

"Heh. She called you my girlfriend."

"You know, Agatha, you're incredibly predictable. I knew you'd show up sooner or later."

"…No idea what you're talking about."

"I did think this would be harder, though. I mean, you're this centuries old famous witch. Honestly, I expected better."

"…What? Hey, what is that?!"

"It's the ritual for containment of hostile spirits, of course. You really should recognize it. You invented it, after all."

"No, no, no, hey, Jen, come on, you don't need to do this, we can talk about i—"

"Shouldn't have bound me, Agatha. Or planned to kill me. …Or let Lilia die."

"…Hey. What did you just do?"

"Put Agatha Harkness in a bottle. Maybe I'll sell her to the highest bidder, she's got so many enemies I could probably retire on what I got—hey, hey, hey, no need for that! Violence is so crass."

"Release her."

"Hey, sweetie, let me give you some advice. Agatha Harkness is a bad bet. She loves yanking you around, playing with your feelings, because she gets her rocks off on manipulating people. She doesn't love you."

"I won't say it again. Let her go."

"What if I had a better offer? What if I could help you actually get over her?"

"……..how?"

"Here, let me show you—if you'll simply put the knife down—look at this. One of my specialties, the exact opposite of a love potion. Think of it as an emotional cleanse. Clears all those nasty feelings out so you don't end up drunk texting your ex at 2 am. I made this one especially strong, because girl, you need it. Drink this and you'll finally, finally stop obsessing over Agatha Harkness."

"...Okay."

to be continued

[emmafrostdefender]

a fine line between god and animal | logan howlett x fem reader

prologue - that which cannot be held in your hand | masterlist

your mother was a god-fearing woman. but she feared you much more. some part of you was wrong, at least in the eyes of god, but you answered to something much bigger. and so did he.

hi friends, this was written when i was struck with inspiration by the one and only ethel cain. of course, the inspiration was paired with my recent renewed interest in wolverine and x-men. some of the characters are more like how they are in the comics because the movie writers did them dirty! like jean slays in the comics okay! anyways, i wanted to write about wolverine and it be sexy in an ethel cain way. do we get the vibe? i hope so. also, i, in fact, do not have religious trauma but if you do this might be the story for you. enjoy.

warnings: cursing, religion, religious trauma (will pick up), lowkey a lot of blasphemy, people be bad sometimes, reader's mother was not chill, a ton of exposition (sorry!), i’m writing this mainly for practice (especially regarding dialogue, so that’s why some of it might be kinda choppy), definitely won't be canon compliant, 4k words

━━━━━━━━━━☆━━━━━━━━━━

By the grace of some unholy god were you created.

The priest with silver hair expelled the demons from you; those crawling, crushing, wriggling, squirming demons that lived within you. Those demons that whispered in your ears, caressing your skull with a language lost to time. They pushed to be revealed. Today, your mother shoved you to your knees before the altar of your true Mother, the Mother of all. “Holy Mother, bless this rotten soul,” she whispered by your side, eyes clenched shut. You watched her. There were no tears, not for your lost soul. Your rotten soul. As if your morality was like an apple. Something that could shrivel up and die if left too long in the scorching sun.

Your skin crawled under the light that beat down on you through the skylights of the church. The air was thick with incense and smoke from the ever-burning candles. The stench filled your nose. Your mother grasped your hand in hers, forcing you to focus on her words. She spoke so quietly, so quickly, you’d think she was chanting some spell. Something to save you from your fate.

“Heavenly Father, take the Devil’s spirit from her body; take this ugly, horrid wickedness from her.”

You closed your eyes, not in prayer, but to lend your ears elsewhere. To the birds chirping outside. The wind whistling through the trees. 

You were connected to nature. In some primal, peaceful way.

Before your father died, he would take you into the woods and you would wander together. Sometimes you would pack supplies for overnight trips, sometimes you would bring nothing but your spirit with you. Now, you thought he knew that something was different about you before you did. When you were a stumbling child, he knew. There were days he would force you to lead the both of you back to safety after getting you lost in the middle of the woods. Force you to reveal yourself to him. The part of you that God shunned.

And you did.

Your spirit became one with the natural world around you. You could hear and smell and see. For what felt like the first time. It was a beautiful thing that came over you.

The trees spoke to you, in their ancient language lost to humanity. And you spoke back. Using sounds that had never before emerged from your lips. 

And they led you home.

Never once did your father ostracize you for your gift. That’s what he called it. A gift.

When you turned sixteen, your gift shifted. You fought back as it reared its ugly head at you. It pushed and pulled at your insides, begging to be released fully. The day your father died, lying still in a sterile hospital bed, it burst out of you. The monotonous tone that rang out death filled your ears as you lay beside him on the thin sheets. He wasn’t supposed to die like this. Not here. The thought blared in your brain. He should’ve been somewhere he could see the sky, the trees, the clouds, not the plastered ceiling of a hospital room.

In your memory, nothing changed. But your mother, eyes blurry with tears, watched as something inside you morphed. You became still, grasping your father’s hand, and whispered something that sounded to her like sin. The tongue of some animal, some demon. She watched as her daughter became something unholy. Your eyes went pitch black, your skin glowing with a soft light. And suddenly, vines were creeping into the room from all around.

Through the window, the door, from the cracks in the ceiling. Crawling to the thrumming in your veins. The winds answered your call, blasting open the window, broken glass scattering across the linoleum floor. Your mother screamed at the sound. 

As vines wrapped around your ankles, around your father’s bed, your mother watched as you continued your senseless muttering. She couldn’t move to stop you. She began to chant a prayer of protection. For herself, for her husband’s lifeless body, for your soul. 

Anger filled your spirit, the anger of a thousand year old mother. Tar filled your veins, smoke filled your lungs, oil in your eyes. The drilling, the pounding, the burning, the slaughtering. It all pushed into your brain as the vines choked your soul. And you screamed.

Your mother grabbed the metal tray from your father’s final meal and slammed it against your head.

And she continued to pray. Gripping your hand until it hurt. And you let her. Let her expel the demon from you. 

Your bare skin bathes in the moonlight shining through the early autumn foliage as you sit on your knees before a different altar. 

You cringe at the memory of your bruised knees and that crushing hold on your hand. Begging God to turn you into a flower, while your mother begged for your mortal soul.

You shake your head to clear the memory. That was ten years ago now. Seventeen and terrified of who you were, what you were. She was wrong about you and you were wrong about you. 

The day the priest came to perform another exorcism of sorts, something that had no effect on you whatsoever, a new man had entered your bedroom. A man in a wheelchair. Professor Charles Xavier. He saved you. 

Made your mother forget who you were.

And you came to live on a beautiful estate in upstate New York with people like you. Mutants. A word used in such a way you had never heard before in extremely rural Oklahoma. “What do you mean, mutant?” You asked, not sure if you should feel insulted.

Professor X looked at you from across the plasticky diner table, studying your features. You studied his right back. Soft eyes and a kind smile. Such a stark contrast from your mother’s severe gaze and thin-lipped grimace. “Mutants are like regular people, only with a mutated gene that gives them special abilities. I’ve been studying mutants and their mutations for decades. Each mutant I meet is unique and you are no exception.”

Your eyebrow raised ever-so-slightly as you sipped on a strawberry milkshake. “How many are there?”

And so began your relationship with Charles Xavier. He became your mentor, someone to go to for guidance. He assisted you in harnessing your abilities, treating them like a muscle to train rather than a burden to bear. And yet, every night you prayed to God that you could be rid of it. That you could go back home and live a normal life. 

In your years at the mansion, friendships blossomed all around you. You never made friends easily back home, but here they came quickly and firmly.

And you felt complete. You are complete. You remind yourself.

Something deep inside of you grumbles in response.

You ignore it and stretch your arms to the sky, cupping the moon in your hands. The moon is slightly out of your jurisdiction, but she controls the tide, which controls the winds. It all works in harmony, you’ve learned. When another girl with similar mutant abilities arrived at the mansion a few years after yourself, you became close partners. Storm, Ororo by birth, was your closest companion. She had striking white hair and a piercing gaze and a personality to match. In combat, she is your most trusted partner. 

You spin your arms in a practiced circle, beginning to feel the thrumming of power in your veins. Every full moon, Charles would send you out into the woods of the estate to become one with your abilities. He says the most dangerous mutant is a mutant that severs all connection to their powers. One that has no real idea what they are capable of. “They could destroy a whole city and not understand why,” he replied when you first asked him the meaning of these exercises. “You must be in tune with yourself if you ever want to feel some semblance of control.”

Control. The word forced a shiver down your spine. Mother Nature revolts at it.

And yet, you managed to tame the primal part of yourself. The part that screamed to be let loose. 

The world pulses around you as your eyes flutter shut. This is your favorite part of the night. When you merge with the natural world. When you feel and hear and see everything around you. The flapping of an owl’s wings. The beat of a young doe’s heart. The smell of the moss and the dirt and the stream miles away. You feel another heartbeat. This one is firmer. More distinct. It reminds you of the steady thumping of your father’s heart when you would lay on his chest as a small child. You can’t pinpoint its location. It seems to come from everywhere at once. A sense of serenity washes over you. 

And you simply listen.

You spread your fingers on the plush grass below you, feeling that heartbeat skitter along your skin and wash itself in the blood that pulses through your veins. You hear the sound of drifting snow, feel its cold sting before it melts against warm skin. Your eyes scrunch up as you focus. The thought of even wondering what you’re tuning into never crosses your mind. You just want to keep feeling and hearing. Your gluttony for the senses takes over and you taste the sheen of melted snow on this stranger’s skin as if you licked it yourself. Salt and something man. You hum. And then you smell something so distinctly like smoke that you are thrown from your reverie. Your body repulses against itself and you cough. Being connected to Earth has its disadvantages. 

Desire to return to that state of complete contentment fills your mind, but you stand. Your nude form basks in the moonlight for not a minute longer. You shrug a pretty little silk robe on and make your way back to the mansion. Although it is early October and New York has not yet succumbed to the winter weather, you still feel the keen chill of snow. 

As you slowly walk back to the mansion, the new thrum of energy courses through you. It spreads down your legs to the pads of your feet, which leave trails of newborn flowers. As quickly as they are born, they die. The circle of life and death. Darkness and light.

The exact breadth of your powers is still unknown to you and your fellow mutants. Before being taken in by Professor X, you thought they were limited to simply being one with nature. The memory of your father’s death and the events that quickly followed were hazy, but being far away from your mother and her religious zeal allowed you to connect to that piece of your past. To your chagrin, Charles refused to go into your mind to help you remember. It took you two months to fully remember the events. Memories came in dreams, waves of disconnected images all straining in your mind. The first night Charles sent you into the woods to “figure it out,” the pieces fell into place.

And you finally knew yourself again.

Now, you’ve chalked your abilities up to being a reincarnation of Mother Nature, a realization that pulls at the small cross that rests in the hollow of your neck. Despite the trauma incurred by your mother in the name of the righteous God, that part of yourself hasn’t been severed. You remember your father knelt in the church, clasping the chain around your neck, thereby forever bonding you to your faith. You’ve never feared any man you’ve gone against in combat, but you fear the one waiting to judge you.

If He’d even bestow that luxury upon you.

You look up at the sky as you step through the woods, drawing lines between the stars like the ancients. Stringing stories and myths and legends. You wonder if the monsters of olde were simply mutants, like you. Misunderstood and begging to be believed.

The soft glow of the mansion enters your vision. The weight of sleep hits you in the shoulders and you slouch to the back entrance. All the young mutants are asleep at this time, but you hear the skittering of a few rebels in the halls. The mansion never fails to awe you, with its tall wooden walls and bright windows. A far cry from your small rancher of a childhood home. You pass the main entrance and make your way up the stairs that lead to your bedroom on the third floor. This floor is for the older mutants, the X-Men.

Originally, you declined Charles’ offer to be a part of the mutant bad-guy-fighting team. A lack of confidence in yourself, you realized later on. The belief that something was still too wrong with you to even have the ability to help anyone. That belief changed rather quickly. 

When you realized there wasn’t much of a place for mutants in this world, you accepted his offer. You took on the name Proserpina, the Roman goddess of spring, at the behest of your teammates. Despite your initial disdain towards the alias, you soon grew fond of the name.

Your ears perk up at the sound of whispering voices down the hall.

Coming from Jean’s room.

Jean Grey is another member of the X-Men and another close friend of yours. You were one of the first people she met when she arrived at the mansion a few years ago. You were the first to confront her about her obvious feelings for Scott Summers, who is something of a brother to you, before she even recognized them herself. You are the first person she goes to whenever she feels out of control, which seems to be more frequently as of late. “He wants you and Storm to track them down,” she says in a soft voice.

“Just the two of us?” Scott asks.

You assume she nods.

You raise your eyebrow. Track who down?

Deciding to enter the conversation, you continue to her room and open the cracked door fully. “What, so Charles doesn’t want me tracking anymore?” You question with a hand on your hip.

They both stand in the center of the room and turn their heads to look at you. Jean rubs at the space between her eyebrows. “Not necessarily. He just isn’t sure you should go on this one.”

“Why? Is it because we’d be fighting Captain Capitalism or something?”

Scott quirks a smile. “He’s found another prospect for the X-Men.”

“And how does that impact my ability to find them?”

Jean approaches you slowly. “Don’t be offended, honey, but sometimes you come off a bit…”

“Bitchy,” Scott finishes with his arms folded across his chest. 

Your mouth drops open and you move to slap him or punch him or kick him, but Jean puts her hand on your sternum. “I meant to say, you can come off a bit guarded. And that isn’t always helpful with new recruits.”

“But no one is better at tracking than me,” you say with a pout. “Besides the obvious.”

“Sorry, babe, Charles isn't letting you come on this one,” Scott says with a grin. “Too bad.”

You flick him in the forehead and he flinches. “Asshole.”

“You can stay here and help me with my exercises. Charles is trying to get me to move a car,” Jean suggests. “I know,” she says in response to your eyebrow raise. 

“You can barely move a book without it flying at your face. Or, in most cases, my face.”

She shrugs. “Out of the frying pan and into the fryer, I guess.”

“Fine. I’ll be nice.” You turn to leave and toss a dismissive hand up behind you at Scott. “Good luck tracking without me, bitch.”

He hums. “Goodnight.”

As you shut the door he throws out, “Can’t wait to bring them back in record time tomorrow!”

Them. So it’s multiple. Interesting.

That night, your dreams are filled with images of your old church. The windows stain everything around you a blood red. 

You are on your knees before the altar of Mary. But today, her hands are folded away from you. She scorns you with a downwards glance of repulsion. You know this isn’t real. It’s not real.

Yet, your body burns in her gaze. Your skin is on fire and no one is there to quell it. You are chained to the floor by your hands, you feel your chest being cracked open to onlookers. Your heart is yanked from your ribs, your impure blood oozing from gray hands. Roaming hands belonging to a wisp of smoke pull at your bones, branding them in silver. Bugs crawl out of the cavity in your chest, maggots and cockroaches. You scream and the onlookers laugh. Your body vibrates with fear and disgust. And you scream. 

You wake with hands pinned to the bed by your own force, your necklace set between your teeth. 

Your nightgown is soaked in sweat, sticking to your skin. Your heartbeat pumps hard and fast in your ears, an almost unbearable sensation. Not the way you hoped the night would go.

Despite appearances, you are used to the nightmares that plague you whenever there is a full moon. With the resurgence of your power, comes a resurgence of memories. 

You spit the cross out of your mouth and slam your head against your pillow. 

Dawn has skipped across the sky, bringing streaks of hazy light into the darkness. You stare at the ceiling, allowing your heart to return to its usual rate.

It seems like the dreams are only getting worse with time. You thought they would subdue after a few years, but they’ve been building steadily. And you would never tell Charles that, lest he pry into your brain and see for himself. You couldn’t let him, or anyone, see that part of you. The part you worked so hard to tamp down. It would only make things harder.

Therapy for one?

You laugh in self-pity and sit up, your muscles tense. You stretch out your arms, moving them in circular motions as you control your breathing. The last thing the team needs is something else to worry about. Magneto, your main opposition, has been pushing harder and harder toward his goal of world-domination and mutant-superiority. Charles doesn’t need another burden. You crack your neck and stand. 

Your room has floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the gardens and the woods. A special request you made the first time you moved in. You can just barely see the sun beginning to peak over the horizon, glimmering off the dewy leaves. 

Someone knocks on your door. “Yes?” you ask, turning to face the entrant.

The only other person ever up this early is Storm. She stands before you in her leather suit, stark white hair hanging by her shoulders. “Put some clothes on, Charles wants to speak with you.”

“You don’t think he’d appreciate this?” You gesture to your sweat-stained dress.

“Bad dream?”

You shrug. “I was actually having very passionate sex with Christian Bale.”

“Slut!” She smiles, but her eyes see right through your lie.

You wink. “Always.”

Ororo is the only person you’ve let see the terrified side of you. The side that you keep locked away. And it makes your skin crawl when she sees straight through you. As if she’s the one that can read minds.

When you’ve changed into a sweater and jeans, you follow Ororo downstairs to the professor’s study. The sun has fully risen by now, along with many of the students. You dodge sleepy children and annoyed teenagers as you make your way to the study. 

“I’ll wait out here for you,” Ororo says softly as you open the study door. 

“I feel like I’m about to be scolded for something.”

She laughs.

You shut the door behind you and see Charles sitting at his desk. “Good morning, Professor.”

“Take a seat.”

You grin as you make your way to the plush seats in front of his desk. “Am I in trouble?”

He smiles back. “No, you’re not in trouble. But I did need to speak with you.”

You nod, allowing him to continue.

“I understand that you already know about the retrieval mission Scott and Ororo are to be sent on today?”

“Yes, I overheard Jean mention it to Scott last night.”

He hums. “How was your night besides?”

He’s referring to your monthly ritual. You smile. “It went well.”

“Anything interesting occur?” he asks with a quirk of his brow.

You narrow your eyes slightly. Is he asking about the dreams? You pivot. “Not really. I seemed to connect to someone far away, though. That hasn’t really happened before.”

He nods, a glint in his eye. He knows you’re omitting something. But he lets you get away with it by switching the topic. “I suppose you might be wondering why I’m not sending you on this particular retrieval?”

You shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. “I mean, it crossed my mind. But it’s your decision.”

“I’m not sending you not because you aren’t useful, you must understand. Or because of you’re 'attitude,' which I must admit, I disagree with. You are truly the best tracker we have. And you are fairly good at calming new people down. However, I have recently been made aware of a plot by Lehnsherr to somehow use you to further his plans,” he says with a straight look on his face.

Before you register the second part of his statement, you feel smug pride at the fact that you were right and Scott was wrong. “Wait, he wants me?”

Charles nods. “Yes, it seems he believes your mutation would be useful to him. But I am not aware of how exactly.”

“How were you able to read his mind?”

“We were both at a speech given by Senator Robert Kelly a few days ago. I found his mind in my scan of the room. His is much different from everyone else.”

The unspoken part: We are connected.

The professor never seems to fully admit the strong connection he has to Erik Lehnsherr, but you sensed it the same way you sensed Jean and Scott. It might be different, it might be the same, but the history they share has never fully dissolved.

You wonder if a part of your mutation is sensing innate connections between people. That invisible force that pulls some together, while pulling others apart. That which cannot be held in your hand. You suppose it is something only nature could define.

He continues. “He believes that your connection to nature could be used in conjunction with his control over metal. How? I’m not sure. I’m not sure even he knows.”

You consider this, bringing your hands together. “So you’re nervous I wouldn’t be able to hold my own against his goons?”

“Not necessarily. But if you were abducted, we might not be able to reach you. It’s safer if you stay here with all the protections this mansion affords.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?”

“It’s the only reason I need.” He looks at you with such care that your annoyance pauses. “If not sending you on a monotonous tracking mission means keeping you from uneccessary harm, then I will do it. Even if it upsets you.”

You break his gaze and sigh. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

He leans back in his chair and smiles.

“I just hate seeing Scott’s ‘I-did-better-than-you’ face. He’s so smug,” you whine.

“You two have that in common, I see.”

The grin that spreads across your lips is impossible to fight.

Scott and Ororo board the jet after an hour of briefing from the professor about where the mutants are most likely located. Somewhere in Canada. Far, far north.

Before they head off, Scott ruffles your hair. “Hey, don’t look so disappointed. You can stay here and grow some flowers or something.”

You shove his hand away from you. “Shut up.”

“Save that fire for when we get back. You never know what these mutants are going to be like. They could be gearing up for a fight.”

“I think I’ll just let you handle that, since you’re so confident you’ll even be able to find them properly without me.”

“It’s not just confidence. It’s a guarantee,” he says with a grin.

“Whatever. Be safe.”

“Always am. Keep Jean company.” 

“Mhm. ‘Bye now!” You say with a wave of your hand.

Jean exits the jet where she was speaking to Ororo and comes to stand next to you. Ororo gives you a thumbs up and she and Scott exit your line of sight. Although you would never admit it, you like going on these missions to keep your teammates safe. And not being able to protect them itches at your skin. Before you go crazy pacing in the hangar of the jet after it takes off, just waiting for them to get back, Jean reminds you of her own practice.

“Time to move that car!” You say with gusto, hooking your arm with hers. 

You fight the urge to glance behind you. Your other hand comes up to worry the cross at your neck. They’ll be fine. 

ugh i know i know she didn't meet him this chapter aw man....

[thevalkyriesshadow]

I have a naughty Gwynriel fic idea I'm planning for October 😈

Claim Me by TheValkyriesShadow

Priestess Gwyn works as a healer in a small village. One day, a stranger appears - terribly wounded. Gwyn takes him in and cares for him, but slowly begins to realize there may be something more to the stranger she's welcomed into her home. Something more...sinister.

Read a sexy little snippet under the break!

Please note, this snippet contains acts of voyeurism and mentions of breeding kinks.

I've been watching this quaint cottage in the middle of the woods for three days. I was first drawn in by the enticing smells that wafted from it; the rosemary and lavender that hung drying in the windows, a hearty stew cooking on the stove, and something else, something…salacious.

No one came out the first night. Just a figure drifting past the windows, their shadow illuminated by an array of candles inside.

They must be a healer, for the next day many people came to the cottage; an elderly woman, a young boy, a pregnant couple…

I grow ravenous as the smell of the fetus yet born met my senses.

Soon. I tell myself. Soon.

Despite half the village coming and going, whoever lived in the cottage never came out. Until the third day of my watch. I was diligent and patient. I knew what I wanted - what I needed - was in that cottage.

Good things come to those who wait. Very, very good things.

The sun was just setting on another busy day for the healer. Gathering herbs is what brought them, brought her, out from the cottage.

My heart all but stopped. She was perfect. Beautiful. I couldn't stop staring at the way her copper hair glowed like molten metal in the low light. The way her eyes - bright like the twinkling sea water - glowed as she hummed a tune. Her voice as she sang, was like a beacon, drawing me near. Her hips, swaying side to side as she bustled around her garden…

The perfect hips. Sat just wide enough to hold my heir in her womb.

I breathed in deeply, my chest rumbling. That scent. The scent I'd been trying to place…it was her. She had that wonderful, lustful scent that had invaded my senses and mingled with the herbs and food she made. 

I stilled. She was standing straight like a rod, like she'd heard something. Heard me. Crouching in the trees. Watching…waiting….

She turned around, perhaps deciding that the low growl she heard was not the rumble from deep in my chest, but something else, a bear or badger…but not me. 

Whoever she was, she didn't know I was out here. Had no idea what lurked in the woods surrounding her cottage. If she did…she wouldn't have left her curtains open. 

Nor would she be undressing.

My cock, already hard from her scent on the wind, strained against the restricting pants I wore. I watched as she let her light blue dress fall to the floor revealing a white silken slip underneath. Her nipples hardened against the cool, autumn breeze that blew through the trees and into her window. I wanted to taste them. Touch them. Suckle them. 

She let one strap fall, then the other and by the gods, good and evil…She was perfect.

Her milky, white skin scattered with rust colored freckles glowed in the dim light. The shadows played with the curves and lines of her body. I was jealous of the natural shadows of the world, feeling her - touching her.

I could. If I wanted to. I could send my shadows out and caress her skin and she wouldn’t know. Would think it is just a string of fabric or a bit of hair.

But - no, this female…this female would know. She’d sense the strange touch of my magic. 

I couldn't place why or how I came to this conclusion. It was this new, inherent feeling I had....perhaps it was the way she diligently checked each and every herb she plucked from the garden earlier. Making sure every piece she took was meticulously inspected. Or how she was currently meandering her room, book in hand, and completely naked. She was an enigma to me. Studious, yet free-spirited. Self-aware, yet careless - leaving her curtains open at night when anyone could peer in.

So for now, I hold them back and enjoy her figure from afar.

Soon.

Soon I’d get to feel her pert breasts, her silky hair, and thighs carved of muscle beneath my hands. Soon I’d get to mark her, claim her, fill her…make her scream my name into the night.

Soon.

Soon she would be mine.

[lawchwan]

they love me because i'm a woman! (law)

summary: a headcanon on how our beloved law would be as a woman requested: @makemake22 reader: gn!reader disclaimer: law is just being her fine self, suggestive content, the hearts crew are lowkey perverts but its done in a comedic way not in a violating way genre: headcanon, fluff, suggestive a/n: ugh i love fem!law so much. i wanna write another adaptation of this, so if you want a part 2 or a whole fic of this lemme know.

crossposted on ao3

what a woman she would be...

you know that song, Foxy Lady by Jimi Hendrix? I feel like that would be her theme song, not joking.

not to be biased, i feel like she would be a stunner without meaning to, much to her dismay.

she does not want to the symbol of her existence through her beauty or her sexiness.

although she never cared for labels, Law would rather be known as what the government calls her by the surgeon of death than the colloquial and dehumanizing description that men give her—hot tattooed surgeon with tits.

she fits the hot big tiddie goth mommy type, which everyone swoons over, including her own crew.

She could never deny their loyalty, she loves them as much they love her (which she’ll never admit to), but at times she absolutely can’t stand her crew—especially the male ones—when they would ogle their eyes at her figure until she raised her voice.

"Right, so, you're assigned to bathroom duties—Shachi, stop staring at my chest" Law spoke sternly, her eyes still glued down at the chart in front of her. Shachi jumped from his place, wide-eyed back to her unfazed expression. "what—how'd you know I was looking?!" he protested. Law simply rolled her eyes at him and shook her head, "Because you always do." she sighed before walking away.

Moments like these happen way too often, and if it were not for her love of her crew, she would’ve killed them a long time ago.

Ikkaku has her moments of admiration as well, but she's still the only crew member who understands her pain of being sexualized and not being taken seriously as a woman in a male-dominated field like piracy.

Bepo also gets it, but he doesn't fully grasp the idea as not only is he a mink, but a male at that. Hey, at least he got the spirit.

However, with her being the only female crew, Ikkaku still maintained that respectful captain-crew member boundary and simply looked up to Law, rather than maintaining a closer bond. (although, I'd like to think that fem!Law would have a soft spot for her and look after her like an older sister would since losing her little sister but that's neither here nor there)

Furthermore, she uses Bepo whenever she gets her period, and her cramps are aching her.

That’s just a headcanon for me, which you can disagree with me if you want, but I feel like she’d be extra sensitive on those days, and just would not care at the moment. She almost turns to a whole different person whenever she’s in her menstrual cycle.

Fem!law walks in one day while her male crew were playing in the lounge room, tears welled up and a slight pout coming out of her lips as she approached Bepo. All eyes were on her, as they await any order their strict hot captain would give out. She attempts to maintain her cool but her hormones are acting up. “Bepo… can you please come and cuddle with me? I’m in so much pain.” Law asked, her bangs falling forward as to divert eye contact from her crew. Bepo sympathetically gave her a tight lipped smile and nodded, “yeah, sure, captain, lets go…” he cooed as he got up from his seat and carried her bridal style while she place her head on his shoulder and her arms around her midriff. And that resulted in a roar from the male crew, both swooning over how adorable their captain is and from jealousy, wishing that they could be in the mink’s place instead of him.

Naturally, once the pain wears off and can be on her own, she goes back to her strict self and goes after any of her crew who calls her cute and give them any harsh duty if they speak of these events.

”I liked the old Law better” they would claim.

Fem!law, like the real Law, is cold and aloof, yet the difference is that she happens to be more maternal than she actually seems, especially towards her crew members.

She could be seen scolding them like a mother would.

"Check it out, boys, I finally caught Law's shirt that she wore yesterday—OW!" Penguin's devious choice of words put him into trouble as he felt an aching pinch by the ears as his head was pulled and pushed by the source holding his ears. "How many times have I told you to stop putting my clothes on auction?! I know money's tight, but I'm losing shirts to wear! You cannot keep going like this..." Law scolds him further as her fingers pinched harder making Penguin wince in pain. "Okay, but that would be so hot seeing shirtless around polar tang—OW! OW! I was joking, please! I was only kidding!" Shachi took another pinch as well.

"Law..." Bepo walked into Law's office with a pout. "What, Bepo?" She spoke without looking up. Bepo walked in, simply just showcasing his cut finger. Law simply shook her head as she opened her drawer, "kitchen duties?" "Yes... I cut myself opening a can..." "How the hell did you—Ugh, forget it just give me your finger..."

Now we've touched on how she acts with her crew, let's get into how she'd be when she has a crush.

Fem!Law would be the type to be very hard to read when she has a crush.

Almost like she never wants to admit that she has a crush.

When she took a peep at you, her heart almost skipped a beat, and she didn't know how she would act around you.

Unfortunately, she'll more than likely act really cold towards you. Not her intention, she just simply does not know how to confront her feelings.

That maternal instinct that you heard of made you believe it was a rumor. You felt like she didn't care about you, which hurt you a little bit the longer you stayed.

You began developing feelings and she was pushing you away without her knowing about it.

Meanwhile, fem!Law is going through her own turmoil with you.

Even though she’s cold, the fact that she runs away from any interactions with you pains her to a deep end.

Just like masc!law, she has repressed a lot of her emotions thanks to her trauma and losing her parental role.

she had developed attachment issues that takes time for her to open up.

but that’s something neither of you would open up about and the relationship remain like this for a long time…

characters are owned by oda. i will not tolerate nor accept translation, reposts on other websites, or plagiarism. divider made by mmadeinheavenn.

[faegoddessog]

Day 28: What happens when he's amazing

January's DDof AB @dailydoseofaustinbutler

Warnings: Bear with me as I try, maybe a little TOO hard, to include the daily theme. 🤦🏼‍♀️ I promise it'll be worth your while.

Peeps who may want to know! , @purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight @thisworldisntrealhoney,  @1nho,  @megangovier, @briaandthephantoms, @andro-inherdreamworld @callumsgirl @blombardo  @fefeisastar @hacunamy @nestito702 @denised916 @jayydep @r0m4nitcl0v3r @heyidc03, @secondchild-2, @flander42 @natural-born-rebel-spirit @lecosymood @kathrynzaragoza @bsunshinexo @jayydep @ifyouloveweedletsgosmoke @peggyao3

I pointed to a framed article hung on the wall. It was an old, faded magazine cover of Geology Monthly. A little girl holding two roughly spherical chunks of pyrite smiled from the cover. Her hair was in long braids and one adult tooth in front was only partially grown in. 

“This is me, I found those when we were digging the pond out there” I nodded to a shelf, two golden spheres sitting next to the other semi precious stones. I hoped he would put two and two together and get what I was trying to say. 

“ ‘A little girls’ Golden Globes?” Austin read the caption blazened over my head, He looked at me confused and shocked even. 

“Ok, it’s a terrible headline,” I admitted “ but look at the date.” I pointed, “I was seven. Austin… do the math.” 

He blinked twice and looked at me. I couldn't tell if he was astonished or  flabbergasted or simply fed up with me.

“Wait, is this what you are worried about?” he understood exactly what I was getting at. “After all this time, you think I care about what year you were born?” 

“What will people say,  Austin. They’ll roast you, roast us both.” I crossed my arms around my waist protectively trying to hold that terrified part of me at bay. 

“Pff, there is always someone saying whomever I’m with isn’t good enough and I’ve never fucking cared,” he said. 

“Not good enough, not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not young-” my mind started to spin.

 “No,” he interrupted,”no, none of that. Y’know what I’d say to any of that bullshit?” He put his arms on my shoulders lightly, recognizing my potential spiral.

I shook my head.

“She’s more that good enough, so beautiful, and so fucking sexy and so perfect for me.”

“Austin,” a smile tried to creep onto my face, but still had my doubts.

“We are both grown adults,” he stated, “and I’m long past the need to mold myself into what I think other people want. Besides, it’s not without precedent. Hugh Jackman, Sarah Paulson, Heidi Klum, they all have age gaps with their partners.” 

“I don’t need to be compared to Heidi Klum,” I could feel the insecurity fueled tears, “besides people would still-”

“Those people aren’t in here,” he poked his chest with his fingers, “they don’t get to dictate what I’m drawn to, what makes me happy, or what I love.”  

I took a shaky breath, letting his words sink into me. I let him carefully unwind my arms from my middle and place them around his waist. He brushed under my chin with his fingertips. I looked up into that stunning face that I had fallen so completely for. 

“And I’m so in love with you,” he said simply. 

[hydrangeapartridge]

Opinion and thoughts on Emmrich’s questline’s last choice (with spoilers of course) :

How that choice stressed me the second the Liche thing was introduced… until when truly faced with it, it didn’t XD. I regret worrying so much but that’s in my nature (PTSD from Solas Romance and other stuff...). The second Manfred came into the picture, I was sold for one of the endings. I couldn’t imagine continuing the story without our beloved skeleton child.

With that said, I still played the two choices and the little wrapping quest after the choice. In the end, to me the whole choice felt like choosing between heart and mind. Here’s why:

- Emmrich becoming a Liche (the path of reason/logic)

In this ending Emmrich follows his dream/project. Just before you make the choice he is still very eager to become a Liche and barely talks about Manfred. I felt that’s what he really wanted and had worked hard for (contrary to other companion quests where other companions seemed less comitted to one choice over the other).

It is a more « selfish » (it’s a too strong word but I haven’t got a better one) ending and feels colder too. Emmrich follows his academic goals.

Rook and Emmrich’s interaction before the ritual made me a bit sad, like a farewell. The worry for Emmrich’s life and the unknown felt real. And when Vorgoth stepped out with the bloodied dagger, I felt a pang in my heart. The cutscene was very well done, every mortalitasi stepping out and suspense as Emmrich steps out last : he succeeded but changed forever.

Emmrich won’t have to face death because he succeeds in becoming immortal (he somewhat faces it because he could have died during the ritual but you see my point). When romanced, even if you can say it changes nothing to Rook’s feelings, that is obviously a big thing. It felt a bit too big for me for a romance that just starting blooming.

- Emmrich saving Manfred (the path of sentimentality)

To save Manfred, Emmrich will have to abandon becoming a Liche. He’s sacrificing something for Manfred, just like Manfred did for him. It’s warm and cute, and Manfred comes back with new magic powers. Plus you see the spirits of the first quest again which was a nice detail.

The first thing Manfred says when he realizes he’s got magic is « Magic, like you », showing he really admires Emmrich. That line killed me honestly, so heartwarming! The hug and the following scene with Rook are adorable, absolutely wonderful, and when in a romance with Emmrich it gives the family vibe that I personally enjoy very much. Father figure/teacher Emmrich does something to me… (I promise I don’t have daddy issues, I’m just getting older XD)

Emmrich will teach Manfred, pass on his knowledge to him, and somehow he’s giving his life to him since he turned down immortality for him.

Maybe it is selfish of me but I prefer this ending because Rook gets both Manfred and the same Emmrich as before. It feels happier. As Emmrich said when asked about his regrets: “I wouldn’t have it any other way”. This moment, with that sweet expression he made while watching Manfred discover the world again brought tears to my eyes. My heart was moved by this ending. It is by far my favourite.

Final thoughts:

I’m reminded of Baldur’s Gate 3 where the endings I preferred were those where the companions didn’t go through with their initial goals. It feels more like character growth that way maybe.

I’ll have to see if the other romances are as impacted by the final decisions of companion quests but I’m not sure. I didn’t feel like the other choices were that big (except Taash and Harding maybe) but maybe I’m wrong, I’ll see when I watch the other romances.

I’ll do another post soon about my overall opinion on the companions and their quests.

I absolutely do not regret choosing Emmrich’s romance, it made me feel lots of different feelings, and that proves it had me invested! It was very good. I hope there will be a few more scenes with him (especially a sexy one XD) because I can’t get enough of this lovely man!

(Link to my opinion on his last quest if you want more of my rambling)

[gilgil-machine]

Character ask game: 2, 25, and/or 8 for Gilgamesh?

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

I have a lot of things that I love about Gilgamesh.

Him being a total tsundere. Like I just can't look at him without a goofy smile on my face when he acts like this. He's just so adorable when he's like this.

Like just look at this dude, he's literally sweating😆 It's okay, Gil, we know.

His love for manga and video games and that that he also sometimes makes references from those pieces of media as well. Like this dude is just my spirit animal😅

He's a competitive idiot. Like you can make him do the most dumbest shit by just saying "What's wrong, chicken? Scared?" and he would do anything to prove his point.

Him talking nonstop about things that excite him, dear to him or he's just passionate about while looking all proud and smug. Really love when he does this.

Him being a soft and gentle soul. It's quite a rare thing but it happens and it's the sweetest and most beautiful shit you'll ever see.

Like he got so mesmerized by nature that he decided to make a small poem but when he realizes that it came out not good he decided to make another one. It's just so CUTECUTECUTE🙈💕

And I just love him being a goofy goober in general😆

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

I really hate when people mischaracterize him and twisting the whole information about him. And sometimes it makes me think that people read VN and watch anime with their asses and not eyes.

When people hating him for just the sake of hating and treating him like he's the only terrible character in the series. It's just so frustrating and tiring to see him always being dragged through the dirt without any reason. I mean sure he did some terrible things (that I judge him for and hold him accountable for) but also Nasu did his best to show everyone that he's more than just arrogant asshole. He has a great story and deep character that is worthy to have a chance to be learned about in my opinion.

And when people separate archer Gilgamesh and caster Gilgamesh (also I've seen how people were separating archer Gil and treating each version like some alter ego and in that moment my whole being just left the chat completely from the sheer stupidity that I've read). Like there's a lot of proofs and moments that show us that archer and caster Gil is one and the same person and it just makes me furious when people separate them and treating caster Gil like pure saint and archer Gil like pure evil which is completely wrong and stupid in my opinion and it feels like people just tearing his character apart and making him being incomplete with such actions.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

In the beginning it was quite neutral I would say. I mean, he caught me with his unique design and his abilities (like the dude just shoots swords, the 13 year old me was baffled to no end😆) also I loved his design in UBW (that leather jacket and white shirt mmm sexy 🫦🫦🫦). But after a few years I got back into fate, read CCC, Hollow Ataraxia and obviously the original source the Epic of Gilgamesh, I fell in love with the guy completely and he's not letting me go ever since and honestly I don't mind and I'm happy that I found a character like Gilgamesh.